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#So basically involuntary testing

mlm-writer · 7 months

Text

Test Ride Pt. 2 (Peter Parker x Android!Reader)

Pairing: Peter Parker (TH ver.) x Android Reader (with a robovagina) Rating: Explicit Words: 1189 POV: Second Summary: The Big Tober Day 10 - Robotfucking Note: A sequel to a piece I did for kinktober 2020. Reader is a robot and has no gender. Last time reader got a robopenis and I thought it only fair to give reader a robovagina this time. Reader's chest is unmentioned. Tags: robotfucking, unnecessary use of fancy words to make it more sci-fi, at least I don't put 'quantum' in front of everything to make it science, dom/sub dynamics, overstimulation, safeword ignored(?), robot tentacles as restraints, vibrating pussy, nipple play and software/hardware updates gone ' wrong'

A new HUD interface greeted you as you booted up after your last upgrade. Your physical statistics and environmental parameters were found in new places, but that mattered little. Your optics activated after a short delay, visual input now also available to you. Your creator stood before you, his lips moving, but you received no audio input. “Audio module connection failed,” you replied to whatever he said. You saw him curse, or at least that was your best prediction of what his expression conveyed. He motioned your head down. You bent at the hips, allowed him to unplug and reconnect your audio modules.

Once the cables reconnected, you could hear Peter clearly. “Please, don’t be ruined, please don’t be ruined,” he muttered to himself.

“All modules operational,” you informed him. He jumped at your voice, but let out a sigh of relief right after. “Awaiting command,” you added. As per usual after an update, Peter started poking and prodding your frame, confirming your sensory input was still operational. When he was done testing your basic functions, he dragged you to his bed.

“Program D.O.M. version V, please,” he spoke nervously. You detected an increase in heart rate and blood flow to the genitals. You confirmed the break command, as it was standard protocol, before you could execute the D.O.M. program. Once the safety protocols were satisfied, you had your digits on Peter’s clothes. You unbuttoned his flannel, revealing his pale chest underneath. There was minor bruising, but a quick scan revealed no serious injuries that were contraindications to the program. You pushed him onto the bed and started running your tongue over his chest, paying extra attention to his nipples.

Peter whimpered as you played with his chest, artificial tongue and teeth taking turns with your digits pinching his sensitive nubs. You kept track of his arousal, only stopping your onslaught once his involuntary noises got a little louder. You sat up, retracting your pelvic panel and rubbing your wet hole over Peter’s crotch. He whined as you slowly soaked through his jeans and underwear, until he could feel your wetness on his cock through his clothes. “Please, I need to be inside you,” Peter eventually moaned, his mind tethering on the edge of madness.

He was hard underneath you, so you deemed him ready for the next stage. With superhuman deftness, you removed his clothes until he was naked on the bed. His cock protruded from his body, the tip red and leaking. You wrapped a servo around his rod, stroking slowly as to tease him. When he started thrusting into the tightness, you placed your other servo on his hip, your mechanical strength counteracting his. He was forced to only take what you gave, which was exactly what he programmed you to give. It was not enough to get him even remotely close to orgasm, but the build-up was perfect to make him start begging. Once the begging got frequent enough, you proceeded on to the next stage; you mounted him, letting his cock slide into your wet and soft hole. Peter moaned, his eyes rolling back as you rode him at a decent pace. “Please, give me more, I’ve been good. I will be even better, I swear.”

His moans filled the room. You took his dick all the way inside and paused on top of him. “I will grant you more. However, unpermitted orgasms will be reciprocated with punishment.” He nodded, promising he would not cum. You decreased the elasticity of your inner walls, giving him a tighter squeeze as you proceeded to ride him. Your movements were quicker than before, fully intending to make him cum without permission. Peter was moaning to the ceiling, eyes squeezed closed sometimes and other times wide open. His mouth stayed wide open, tongue peeking over his lower lip.

Just as predicted, your inner sensors detected his cum painting your inner workings. You rode him until the spurts seized. Then you planted yourself firmly on him. Tendrils extended from your body and wrapped around his appendages. “You have disobeyed my orders,” you stated as you held him down and turned on the vibrations of your inner walls. Peter wailed as his sensitive cock was forced to endure the intense vibrations. He writhed against your restraints, but not even his super strength could remove you. Just like he had begged you before to fuck him, he was now begging for your mercy. You bent your upper body, putting a servo around his throat. You put a little pressure on the blood vessels below his jaw. Tears poured down Peter’s eyes as you forced a second orgasm out of him. You detected more cum inside you as he cried out.

After his second orgasm, you ran a scan on him, the analysis showing that he had enough. You removed your servo from his throat and turned off the stimulation or at least… attempted to. “Error: deprecated code, V-module unresponsive.” You stated, your tendrils no longer retracting and your hole vibrating on and on.

“What?” Peter exclaimed, clearly in panic. You ran a diagnostic check, your hole trying to reboot by first ramping the vibrations all the way up, so it could be brought down again. Peter screamed during the process, his brain unable to process the stimulation.

The tactic worked fine, but the module got stuck again at the same level of vibrations you started at. “Tendril module interfering with V-module. Attempting tendril reboot.” Peter did not perceive a word you said. As the tendrils rebooted, they lifted up a little, Peter’s body now hanging in the air except for his pelvis, where you still sat, vibrating his cock.

Peter cried, feeling like his brain had melted away from the intense pleasure. “Stark! Stark!” He screamed the break command. You tried to terminate the program immediately, but the backlog of reboots and diagnostic checks made it impossible. Your creator, against your predictions, came again, barely a drop of cum leaving him. He kept screaming, trying to get through to you. Just after his third orgasm, you regained control of the tendrils. In a flash, they were retracted and you uncoupled the module for now.

Peter’s cock was gradually turning limp inside of you. The poor boy was hoarse from screaming. Without the tendrils, you regained full control, the vibrations stopping instantly. “Thank you, thank you,” Peter whispered over and over as you lifted your frame off him.

“Program D.O.M. paused,” you stated, “do you wish to continue after a delay or shall I proceed with aftercare protocols?”

Peter laid starfish-style on the bed. His chest was heaving. He could use some aftercare, but it was hard to trust you right now. “Terminate the program all together,” he groaned, “initiate shutdown.” A second later, he was met with the sound of your vents shutting down and your pelvic plate closing to protect what was behind it. He was left in silence. As far as updates went, it still wasn’t as bad as that time Windows went from XP to Vista. He counted it as a win.

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wil-o-wispy · 5 days

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The Wife, the Lover, and the Bastard Son - Part 4

Chris Redfield x Fem!Reader (he'll be in the next part)

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

Summary: Your past comes back to haunt you in more ways than you thought possible.

Contents: Major spoilers for RE6, canon typical violence/swearing, mentions of blood being drawn, improper use of a syringe as an improvised weapon, angsty Jake content, angsty plot content, descriptions of blood and violence, dialogue heavy chapter. Reader is referred to as 'Doc' and is the wife of (dead) Albert Wesker and is a former Umbrella scientist.

a/n: Hey peeps. It's me ya boi. I regret nothing for the events that are about to unfold. Thanks for reading :)

w/c: 10.8k+

There is no feasible way out of the cell that you’re confined in. After an indiscernible amount of time being unconscious from the gas released in the specimen room, you woke up here. As far as prisons go, it’s not half bad; a spacious white chamber with a basic cot with white sheets in the middle of the room. In the corner across from it is a security camera with a red light. What makes this room different from your handful of previous kidnapping quarters, are the metal shutters to the right of the entrance to the room that takes up the entirety of the wall. Given the room you were in reminded you of chambers for infected test subjects, there was a likely chance you were being observed through the camera on the other side of the wall.

There’s a second difference as well. You woke up with the crook of your arm wrapped in gauze and a cotton swab. These people had drawn blood from you while you were knocked out. Probably to test if you were compatible for the new virus you’re sure they’re making.

All you can do is wait and see if you’re right.

You aren’t too worried about your involuntary confinement. Not yet anyway. These people evidently want you alive and in one piece. You’re not too sure if Jake would be given the same courtesy though. If he was as skilled as he said he was, you would be willing to bet he was already long gone. If that boy had any sense, he would be trying to find a radio right now to signal for help.

You don’t have to wait too long with your thoughts. A short time after, you hear white noise hum from the speaker and the familiar higher pitched male voice echoes around the chamber.

“Good day, Dr. Wesker.” The voice is the same one you heard from the thin silhouetted man when you first arrived. He speaks in a slow, deliberate tone.

“Hello.” You answer back looking directly into the camera, keeping your tone neutral.

“I understand you had a little -detour- on the way to your room.”

“I did.”

“I would encourage you not to indulge in your wanderlust again, but you strike me as the type to take that as a challenge.”

You narrow your eyes at the camera and purse your lips. You don’t want to give anything away that would confirm the man’s assumption is correct. When you continue to be silent, the man speaks again.

“Forgive me, we haven’t made a proper introduction. I am Youju, one of the head researchers for Neo Umbrella. Welcome to my facility.”

You can’t find it in you to even care who he is. It doesn’t matter in the grand scope of things. As far as you’re concerned, Umbrella (or Neo Umbrella) was still just a terrorist organization that made bioorganic weapons. You don’t care about the specifics of what that means unless it’s relevant to preventing an outbreak.

“Will you just cut to the chase?”

There’s a pause from the speaker. “Pardon?”

You sigh and cross your arms, still looking into the camera. “I’ve done this song and dance multiple times and I have no patience for the dramatics anymore. What do you want?”

Silence from the speaker. You let out an annoyed huff.

“Do you have a new virus you want to test out on me? An old one you revamped? I’ve been proposed with job offers before but I’m letting you know right now-”

“No, no miss. Your purpose here today is much more… personal.”

That can’t be good.

“So I’m here for revenge? You’re going to have to specify. Albert had a lot of enemies, and I couldn’t be bothered to keep up with them.”

“You misunderstand what I mean when I say personal.” You can hear an underlying tone of deviousness in that statement. Youju continues.

“Tell me doctor, how have I gone all these years without knowing Albert Wesker had a son?”

You stand in stunned silence. Wesker? A father? The thought makes you want to laugh in disbelief. The only thing that stops you from doing so is the confidence in Youju’s voice.

What kind of ploy is this?

Is he trying to get you to admit a secret you don’t even have? You spend the next few moments thinking over what the man had just said, when you hear him tap the mic, which results in your ears being assaulted with high pitched feedback and you reflexively covering your ears.

“I’m not a patient man, doctor. Answer me.” Youju’s words are drawn out with a mocking, sing-song voice.

You lower your hands and stare directly into the camera, making a conscious effort to keep your tone even. “We never had any kids.”

Silence falls over the chamber again. Long enough that you think Youju must have left. However, you hear his voice again, but this time you hear a smile in his words.

“… well this is quite an interesting development. I have someone I want to introduce you to. Mrs. Wesker.”

The tone in his voice clearly indicates he doesn’t believe you.

A deep metallic click sounds through the chamber before the metal shutters next to you begin to raise themselves up, groaning their whole journey to the ceiling. As they ascend, the shutters reveal a window to another room. Although surprisingly, there aren’t any Neo Umbrella personnel behind the glass. Instead, the panels reveal an identical chamber to yours, except it’s Jake on the other side of the glass sitting on the bed and leaning on his knees. The bottoms of his pants are covered in dark mud, a part of his sleeve looks scorched, and there’s a sizeable gash on his temple that had scabbed over next to his buzzed ginger hair. Blood that has long since dried had trickled down next to the large diagonal scar on the left side of his face. In other words, he’s much worse for wear than the last time you saw him. Whoever came into the room to investigate the alarm really did a number on him.

You see a discarded bundle of gauze with a slightly bloody cotton ball in Jake’s room. These people took blood from him too.

That grating voice over the loudspeaker interrupts your thoughts.

“Mr. Muller! I hope you’re finding your accommodations acceptable.”

Acceptable was a stretch, but at least your rooms had the bare necessities. You can’t say the same for your past accommodations with other organizations.

Jake shrugs and leans back, taking a look around the room. You hear his voice come from a hidden speaker near the window.

“Not bad, asshole. Feels like I’m shacking up at the Shitz Carlton.”

You would have smiled at that if that nagging sense of familiarity from earlier wasn’t still wracking your brain.

Where have I seen him before?

Youju quips back with that knowing tone over the speaker. “Even when corned in the lion’s den, you still have something witty to bite back with. Just like your father so I’m told.”

Jake’s carefree demeanor grows more rigid; shoulders squared, clenched jaw and sharpened expression. The man’s family is a sensitive subject.

“Where are my manners? Dr. Wesker have you had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Muller?”

It was hard to tell, but you could have sworn you saw Jake perk up at hearing your dreaded last name. You stare at him a moment longer.

“Can’t say I have before today.”

“Really? Are you certain?” The way Youju says that makes it seems like he’s trying to make you doubt an obvious answer to a trivia question. You stare at Jake, and he stares back, unblinking.

You turn back towards the camera.

“I would remember the scar. I haven’t met this man.”

“Interesting. Why don’t you look closer?”

The man from the speaker obviously wants to get some sort of point across to you, so you humor him. Sighing and shifting your weight, you turn to Jake. You look past the grime, the evidence of fights lost, and modern clothes.

You look at his face, his eyes…

You stop breathing.

You thought about what Youju had said before. Albert Wesker had a son.

Your mind races with a cacophony of scrambled thoughts over the next few seconds.

How did these people figure out Wesker had a son before you did? He looks like him. How did he go this long without being discovered? It’s likely Jake’s blood is special like Albert’s, so they’d want a promising candidate for virus injections. Who is his mother?

You don’t know where it comes from in the moment, but all you can picture is a displeased Albert holding a ginger headed baby, with his nice work shirt covered in spit up while another woman takes a picture and laughs.

It starts as a giggle, but the longer you think about this scenario, the more ridiculous the thought becomes and the harder it becomes to keep your shoulders still.

“So tell me doctor, what are your thoughts?” Youju replies smugly, waiting for your response.

You can’t help it. You start laughing like an insane woman. Jake’s existence was the cherry on top of an already stressful situation. Your body is exhausted from the journey here, you’re still processing the emotional whiplash from seeing and destroying the Uroboros sample, you’re mentally and emotionally done with everything that could possibly relate to Wesker and now you find out he has a son that isn’t yours? You just find the whole situation so absurd that you can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

It's clear that Youju doesn’t find your reaction amusing. His tone is cold and controlled when he speaks next. “Enlighten me Wesker, what could possibly be so funny?”

When you finally catch your breath, you look at the camera again with tears in your eyes from laughing so hard.

“This… establishment is really scraping the bottom of the barrel for bright and promising imbeciles, aren’t they?”

Silence, then the sound of a throat being cleared.

“Oh really? And why is that?”

Youju’s voice is flat. Controlled. You had struck something sensitive, and you intend to use it to your advantage to get a moment alone with Jake.

“Because this is ridiculous! Albert Wesker? A father- his father? Are we talking about the same Wesker?”

“His blood sample suggests otherwise-”

“And how do you know that exactly?”

Silence.

You let out a deranged cackle.

“I think I understand now. You found this stranger helping me in the middle of your ocean getaway, you thought he looked like Wesker, and your only plausible conclusion was that he has to be my son. So you’re comparing his DNA to mine because Wesker’s genome is impossible to find. Is that it?”

Youju struggles to stay composed under a guise of false confidence.

“Well we… any reputable institution would confirm hypotheses by… conducting their own independent tests and gathering their samples directly from the source.”

You hum and step a little closer to the camera.

“You know, Umbrella used to check their homework before going through the trouble of kidnapping persons of interest. Just goes to show that the copy is always going to be a letdown from the original.” You made sure to look straight into the camera when you say that, and it has the desired effect.

“You…I-I’ll know you’re lying one way or another soon Wesker!” Unlike before, there was no trace of confident humor. Instead, the voice spits out the words with prideful fury.

“Then by all means, do it. Waste everyone’s time. Hell, I’ll even volunteer for another blood sample when it comes back negative.”

It’s silent for a long time until the white noise from the speaker cuts out and all you can hear is the fluorescent lights above you.

You hear a muffled voice on the other side of the glass. “Hey Wesker!” Youju must have switched off the window speaker.

You let out a sharp breath through your nose. You turn to the window. Jake stands there, forearm resting on the glass above his head and observing you like a slide under a microscope. “Like I told you before, just Doc is fine.” You respond, annoyed.

You look up at the camera and see its beady red light still trained on you. You look between the camera and Jake. No use being stealthy. You walk over to the window with a determined look on your face, already in problem solving mode.

“We both know that test is going to come back negative.”

“Uh huh… and?” Jake responds, unimpressed.

“Personnel are going to come back eventually for another sample. Make it count and make it hurt although based on your current state-” You gesture to Jakes muddy and burnt clothes. “-your technique needs some work.”

Jake scowls. “My ‘technique’ is just fine.”

“Then prove me wrong.”

It doesn’t take too long for your assumption to come true. After a long stretch of time that you try to fill by pacing your room, you hear several sets of footsteps outside the room. A moment later, you see two men in lab coats accompanied by one guard armed with an electric baton and one armed with a pistol enter Jake’s room on the other side of the glass.

Jake deals with them in a similar quick and efficient fashion to what you saw before when you first met him, except his moves are much more violent and incensed. Nothing like the cool and confident rescuer you first thought him to be.

The men in lab coats gesture for Jake to roll up his sleeve. Jake complies and one of the men puts a band on his upper arm to cut off blood flow. When the other man goes to do the blood draw, Jake grabs the syringe and plunges it into the man’s eye, causing to scream in pain and stumble back. The other scientist is frozen in fear as the two guards spring into action. The guard with the baton reaches Jake first, but he’s prepared to duck under the guard’s wide swing and he easily kicks the guard’s feet out from under him in one graceful move. As soon as the guard’s body hits the floor, Jake wastes no time grabbing the back of his head and chin and forcing his neck to an unnatural angle, immediately making the guard go limp.

The other guard is yelling something in that unfamiliar language while pointing his gun at Jake, but Jake doesn’t even acknowledge it as he charges at him with full speed. The guard is only able to shoot once, barely missing his shot, before Jake unleashes a flurry of blows, his skill in hand-to-hand combat evident in the way he dodges all the guard’s attempts at defense with ease.

While Jake is busy with the other guard, the remaining scientist finally comes to his senses and begins to run out of the room. But by the time he makes it to the door of Jake’s chamber, Jake has already disarmed and shot the other guard in the head. By the time the scientist opens the door, Jake has already lined his shot up perfectly and shoots the scientist dead in his tracks, blood leaking from the bullet wound on the back of his head.

The sight in the other room is grisly, but nothing you’re not already used to from the lifestyle you’ve lived. Once the last scientist is taken care of, you knock on the window to get Jake’s attention. He turns to you, breathing heavily and ripping off the rubber armband from earlier.

“Grab all their keycards! Can’t hurt to have them just in case.”

Jake nods and grabs the keycards from all the bodies, then exits the room. Shortly after, there’s a ping from your door and it opens to reveal Jake on the other side of it.

“Let me see?” You request, briskly walking outside the room and holding out your hand for the keycards. Jake plops them in your hand, looking at you closely. You ignore it and flip through the keycards, trying to discern security level but failing because the only difference between the two are the colors; red for the scientists and black for the guards. You halve them and give one of each back to Jake, which he pockets. He’s still holding the pistol he got from the guard at his side.

“Guess we’ll find out which have higher clearance when the time comes.”

Jake is still looking at you with that analyzing expression. “So you-” Jake is interrupted by an ear piercing alarm and the room is bathed in a foreboding red light.

“Time to move!” Jake grabs your upper arm before you can protest and runs out a door and down the hallway, half dragging you behind him while you struggle to keep up with his pace. You don’t know where you’re running to and Jake doesn’t appear to know either. You both keep running until you reach a four-way hallway where the alarm isn’t as loud and the lights are normal. Jake pauses, taking a moment before deciding where to run. You take the opportunity to yank your arm back, rubbing away the sting of Jake’s harsh grip.

“Wait, why aren’t there any guards? Or people?” You say, not quite sure where to go. Maybe it’s residual memories from working at Umbrella, but seeing the nearly identical hallways so empty is setting off alarm bells in your head.

“That’s what you’re worried about right now?” Jake replies, irritated, taking a few steps to look down one of the hallways trying to decide where to go while he holds his pistol defensively, ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

“There’s no people! You don’t find that weird?”

“We’ve got bigger problems right now!” Jake snaps, looking at you with a cold stare. Not a second later, the ear-piercing alarm cries overhead and the lights flick to red.

“We’re going left.” Jake says, running down the left hallway with you tailing right behind him. As you’re running, you notice the grating on the floor.

You realize it’s like the flooring in the specimen room, and suddenly more details about this place make sense.

There’re no people around because they use the knockout gas as a security measure.

The guards wear gas masks so they don’t lose consciousness during breaches.

The alarms and lights warn employees to get to a safe place or avoid the area.

Unfortunately, you put all of this together in the middle of the hallway when the security doors at both ends light up red, rise up from the floor, and close with loud metallic clicks. You hear loud hissing from below you, and you realize with dreaded clarity that the hallway is starting to fill up with gas.

You quickly scan the hallway and see a door with a red marking on it like the one on the scientist keycard.

“Red door on your right! Move it!” You command, already running to the door, keycard in hand.

You don’t need to tell Jake twice. Jake wastes no time dashing into the suggested room once you scan the card. You follow Jake into the room right on his heels. The second you’re through the threshold of the door, you scan the keycard to close the door and engage the emergency lock, emergency protocols drilled into your head from your time at Umbrella taking over. The door beeps and hisses shut just in time to cut off the gas from invading the room you and Jake just entered. The room appears to be some kind of office with several desks around the room. The alarm on the other side of the door is barely heard in this room. You’re safe. For now.

You take a shaky and labored breath while leaning against the door, trying to get your bearings.

Too close.

Your break is quickly interrupted by an accusatory comment from Jake. “You knew him well, huh?”

You stay silent and finally look at Jake. His expression is a cocktail of anger and frustration, even as he’s trying to catch his breath. You glance at Jake’s hand by his side; he’s gripping his pistol tightly and his face is grim and cold. It doesn’t help that you’re looking at Jake with an exasperated and annoyed look.

“You of all people should know why I don’t freely give out my last name.”

You give Jake a ‘what the fuck are you doing’ look and Jake tightens his grip on his pistol as he lifts it a few inches like he’s thinking about aiming it. A few seconds pass and Jake takes a deep breath as he sheathes the pistol.

“Fair enough. But I have questions.”

You let out a crazed laugh and start to feverishly pace the room, still in disbelief at the sudden appearance of your husband’s bastard child. “I’m sure you do! I’ve sure as hell got some!” Your tone comes off as angry, but in reality you’re frustrated.

“I’m not too happy he’s my dad either lady!”

“That’s not- ugh. I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you. You’ve done nothing wrong. It’s just-” You take a breath and try to relax your shoulders, so you don’t snap at Jake again. “The B.S.A.A. and I have a deal. I tell them everything I know, and I help their scientists deal with bioterrorism. In exchange, I’m supposed to get protection and they keep me in the loop. Simple right? But then-” You stop pacing and gesture to Jake. “-I get kidnapped, again, and I find out my dead husband has a whole ass… grown… child! In their organization! That’s a pretty major development if you ask me!”

You stop pacing the room and plop down in a chair and put your head in your hands, then run your hands through your hair. What else aren’t the B.S.A.A telling you? What isn’t Chris telling you? Did he know about this? He has to. You haven’t done anything to your knowledge to warrant them keeping something this big from you. Did they think you’d not take the news well? Take it out on Jake? Leak the information out of misplaced anger for Albert being with another woman?

“I don’t care what kind of bullshit deal you’ve got with the Bioterrorism Boy Scouts. I’ve got questions and I think considering everything, I deserve some fucking answers.” Jake’s steely look from the chamber is trained directly on you.

“You-” You stop. You’re about to tell him now isn’t the time and that you both need to prioritize finding a radio to call for help and come up with an exit plan, but you don’t. You can’t deny that you want to know more about Jake. He’s rightfully demanding answers about a father he presumably never knew. You know the B.S.A.A hasn’t been forthcoming about new information to you, so they probably haven’t disclosed much to Jake. You also know they won’t be too pleased about you spilling top secret intel about Albert to his son.

“You’re right. He’s your dad, you deserve to know. You didn’t hear this from me, okay? I don’t need more reasons for B.S.A.A.’s finest to dislike me.”

Jake silently looks at you, then nods his head. “Deal.”

You nod back. “Alright. You first.”

Jake leans against the wall, looking at you with a serious expression. “What kind of man was Albert Wesker?”

You look at him, confused. “I’m assuming you already know what kind of man he was.”

“I do. I’ve heard a hell of a lot about my old man, but not from the woman who knew him best. What kind of man was he?”

“An intelligent psychopath with a god complex.” You pause. “Well... the god complex came later. But still.”

“Intelligent? That’s not what I heard.”

“What did you hear then?”

“That he was crazy and he tried to destroy the world.” Jakes voice drips with disdain.

“Crazy and intelligent aren’t mutually exclusive traits. Are you positive that these people didn’t know who you were before they tested your blood?”

Even with everything that had just happened, you still couldn’t wrap your head around why you were brought here. To your knowledge, Neo Umbrella didn’t know Jake existed before an hour ago, let alone know that he was Albert’s son. How they knew he was Albert’s son is still unclear to you since his genome is highly classified information. The man on the speaker said your purpose here was personal but didn’t give any indication that it was related to revenge. What did he mean by that? How does this all connect?

“Hundred percent. If he was like that, why’d you marry him then?” Jake’s tone is accusatory, and a scowl that eerily reminds you of Albert adorns his face.

You’re annoyed with the one-word answer and his tone, but you keep your feelings to yourself. You know Jake has complicated feelings when it comes to his father, and he’s dead. You’re the next best thing when it comes to closure. After a moment you calmly and neutrally respond to Jakes question.

“When I first met him, I thought he was a very different man. Sure, he was stoic, cold and all business at the Umbrella Labs, but with me he was romantic, charismatic, and thoughtful." You feel like Jake’s gaze is piercing into your soul, so you look away and stare at the ground instead. “Three years I thought that. Then the mansion incident happened, and everything changed for the worse.”

“Romantic? Hmph. Yeah sure…”

You frown and let out a resigned sigh, shoulders slumping in the process, and you respond in a tired tone. “Has there ever been anyone in your life that you trusted with your whole being and they ended up being someone you didn’t even recognize?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jake cross his arms and scowl become more prominent. Another sensitive subject. You move on.

“He was unfathomably good at making you believe he was someone else. He did it with me. He did it with his S.T.A.R.S. squad at R.P.D. He even did it to Umbrella. In the end, he was just a power-starved monster.”

“R.P.D? He was a cop too?”

You turn your head back towards Jake in surprise. You would have thought that Albert’s previous jobs were easy pieces of information to get ahold of, but then again, Jake may have not cared enough to know. Jake’s expression is still unreadable apart from his voice dripping with contempt as he asked that question. You keep your answer clinical and to the point. “Yeah. He was a scientific prodigy and worked at Umbrella as a researcher really young. Then one of his projects stalled and he became an Umbrella spy and worked in the U.S. Army and then became the captain of the Rescue Service at the police station. After that: bioterrorist.”

You stop and wait for any follow up questions. When Jake only continues to stare you down, you ask your next question.

“Who knows that he’s your father?”

“Couple of guys in the B.S.A.A. and a handful of government agents. Everyone else who knew is dead. What happened after the Mansion Incident? Between you two? There has to be more to that story.” Jakes expression grows darker and more serious.

The thought crosses your mind that you should lie about how you felt, but you have a feeling that you needed to be open with Jake. He deserves the truth, no matter how unpleasant the answer will be.

“I was devastated. When what was left of his team returned from that mansion, I simply didn't want to believe it. I didn't even know he worked for the R.P.D. before that day, and they’re telling me he led his team to die at a mansion in the mountains with a secret Umbrella lab I didn’t know existed? The whole thing sounded crazy." You stop and choose your next words delicately before continuing.

"You have to understand that I loved him at the time. I was in denial. I was mourning. I didn't know he survived the mansion until the Racoon City incident. He could have let me die in Racoon when everything went to shit but he didn't. Instead, he sent a mercenary after me to rescue me and kept me with him until he was killed."

Jake gives you a long look when you finish, his eyes fixed and unblinking. You can tell he’s digesting your every word as his jaw tenses and his knuckles whiten from the force of his fists clenching with his arms are still crossed.

“… so he saved you?”

His voice is icy, and there’s a dangerous edge to his tone that you’ve never heard before. Each word sounds like it’s taking great effort to force out. “Why?”

A pang of fear goes through you at his change of tone. You hit something sensitive, and you don’t even know what it is, which only makes you more nervous. “I don’t have a good answer for that.” Your voice comes out softer than you intend, but you do a good job of masking how intimidated you are by Jake in the moment. Logically, you know he’s probably not going to fly off the handle and do anything to you, but his eyes and expressions are so similar to Albert’s that it’s instinctively putting you on edge.

Unless Albert told you directly, knowing the inner workings of his mind was a challenging task even for you. You’d asked yourself that question and reflected on a possible answer countless times over the years, and each time you came to a slightly different conclusion. On the occasional day where you really missed your marriage before the Mansion Incident, you thought he may have been fond of you in some way. On days like this, your theories were a bit more realistic. You were a means to an end.

Either way, Jake’s eyes are boring into your soul as he’s waiting for you to answer his question.

“At the time, I thought it was because he loved me. But now-” You pause for a moment, desperately trying to gather your thoughts to present them in a way that won’t upset Jake further. “-I have two theories. Either he saw me as an asset with my virology knowledge and kept me close just in case, or he just saw me as something that was his. He almost always used possessives when he addressed me. My darling, my dear, my love. That kind of thing.”

Jake remains silent and his body language still has that edge to it like a cord dangerously close to snapping. You opt to ask a more neutral question.

“How long have you known about Wesker?”

“A year. So he saw you as an asset? You helped him with his plans?”

“No! Fuck no. He definitely wanted me to, but I refused every single time. I still looked at all the lab results and things the he left laying out to stay up to date on what he was planning, but I never gave him feedback.”

“If you refused, why the hell did he keep you around?” Another accusatory, but valid question. Albert wasn’t exactly the forgiving type if he didn’t get what he wanted.

“I think he thought he could wear me down or change my mind eventually. I work fast. I’m good at seeing patterns and remembering small details. My guess is that he didn’t want to get rid of me if there was the possibility of me being useful.” You catch yourself becoming slightly defensive, so you make a conscious effort to reel your emotions in before you ask Jake your question. “Where’d you grow up?”

“Edonia. If you were so against helping him, then why did you stay, huh?”

You’re starting to feel anger boil up in you.

“I was just happy to have my husband back at first! I tried leaving when I realized what he wanted to do. I really did. But by the time I took off the rose colored glasses, I’d seen too much and I was either locked up or he had someone babysitting me so I couldn’t run off. And Edonia? Really? That’s a long way from the U.S. Is that where your mom’s from?”

“Why do you care, huh?” Jake snaps at you, fire in his eyes and nostrils flaring.

You’re slightly taken aback with Jake’s combative response. “Because if anyone finds out she’s associated with Wesker in any way, she’s going to be in danger and needs protection.”

“Don’t need it. She’s dead.” Jake’s face holds no traces of relaxed cockiness like earlier. His expression has morphed into an explosive combination of wrath and pain. “And you know why? Because daddy dearest wasn’t there to pay for her medical bills. He walked out and didn’t fucking look back, yet she still acted like he was this exceptional man who could do no wrong.”

The atmosphere of the room is thick with tension. Even through Jake is a few feet away still leaning on the desk, you feel small and defenseless sitting in your office chair. You feel like the energy in the room could snap at any moment, so you keep your tone sympathetic, but firm.

“I’m sorry about your mom. But you need to believe me when I tell you that you are lucky he was never in your lives-“

“Lucky? That psychopath sent someone to a city that was tearing itself apart to save you but couldn’t send a damn check to save my mom?”

You’ve been patient throughout this whole exchange, and you were resigned to be Jake’s verbal punching bag. But suggesting Albert would have helped Jake’s mother without consequences? That’s the final straw that inevitably makes you lose your composure.

“Did you grow up feeling loved?” The question is sudden. Blurted without thinking of what could come after.

Jake’s angered expression morphs into confusion. “What?”

You know you’re playing with fire with this line of questioning, but you don’t see any other option that will be as effective. “Did your mother… tell you she loved you, make sure you had your coat before leaving the house? Hug you goodbye? Tell you bedtime stories?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Did she?” You don’t back down. You need to make him understand.

“Yeah! She did!”

You nodded. “Good! You wouldn’t have gotten that with Albert. Far from it!”

“Oh yeah? And why do you think that Doc?”

“Is that your question?”

“Answer it.” Jake spits, anger boiling to the surface.

“Do you know anything about Project W?”

You take the silence as a no and continue.

“Albert was a product of one of Oswald Spencer’s projects, founder of Umbrella, headed by Dr. William Wesker. It was a eugenics-based plan to create a race of more intelligent, more fit more whatever superhumans. Your father was essentially raised in a lab.”

You pause to make sure Jake is following your words and keep going.

“There were hundreds of kids in this program. When they were adults, Spencer weeded out a group of thirteen including your father. All of them were given the progenitor virus whether willingly or unknowingly, and only Albert and another woman I’ve never met survived. Albert was the only one who gained superhuman abilities.”

Jake is silent for a moment, then responds, “When you say willingly or unknowingly-”

“Some of these kids didn’t know they were in the program.”

Silence.

“That is where your father came from. You want to know what kind of man he was? He was opportunistic and manipulative. I have no doubt that he would have used you as a guinea pig just like he was. He would have framed it in a way that made it look like he was doing what was best for you too. If he had stayed in your life, you would have been living in a lab waiting for him to shove a needle in your vein as a bonding activity.”

More silence. Jake’s expression is unreadable, but he doesn’t appear angry like before. His eyebrows are scrunched together and he looks at the floor, deep in thought.

“Jake?” You say, gently. He doesn’t respond.

“Jake. Please look at me.” You try again a little louder, and he turns his head to look at you, Albert’s - Jake’s - pale blue eyes look more understanding.

“Do you understand everything I just told you?”

“Yeah. I just-” Jake pauses. “I don’t know what I was expecting to hear, but it wasn’t that.”

You nod and give him a sympathetic look. “I know it doesn’t make it better, but I don’t think he knew you existed. He would have seen you as an asset and tried to find you otherwise.”

Jake doesn’t say anything, but he nods his head to let you know he heard you.

“Loving him came at a price. Be thankful for the anonymity you have.”

“What was your price?”

Everything.

“My future.” Jake looks at you with an eyebrow raised, so you continue. “Because of the relationship I had with him, it’s impossible to live a normal life. I’ve tried, but there will always be people trying to find me to recruit me or kill me because of that.” You say this off-handedly. You’ve become used to this kind of life to the point where happenings like this feel routine.

You and Jake sit in silence. Jake’s presence doesn’t emit that aura of anger anymore.

“That’s not fair to you.”

You give Jake a wry smile.

“It’s not fair that he’s your father. We can’t change the past. But we can try to make the future a bit less shitty.” You quip.

Jake chuckles a little at that comment, and his smirk finally returns.

“You’re not-” Jake stops, and you wait for him to finish, “-how I expected you to be.”

“…thanks?” You reply, not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

Jake snorts at your comment. “And uh… sorry I got heated for a minute there.”

You give Jake a dismissive wave. “Hey, it’s not the first time I’ve gotten my ass chewed out because of Wesker, and it’s not going to be the last. At least yours was warranted. You love your mom. I can’t fault you for that.”

“Appreciate it.” Jake replies, his smirk disappearing after a moment.

“I’ve got one more… personal question.” Jake looks at you, a dark intensity to his gaze.

You nod. ”Go for it. You deserve to know.”

“Do you have any children?” After a long, silent pause, Jake’s eyes lose their intensity and he gives you a small, sympathetic look.

You give Jake a sad smile. “No. No we… everything I said before about bonding activities? That’s not anecdotal. Just conjecture. Just-“ You gesture to Jake. “You.”

That I know of.

You clear your throat. “How old are you, by the way? I’m just curious-”

“You don’t need to finish that, I get it. Twenty.”

“You look older.”

“Mercenary work and a civil war will do that to ya.”

“Sorry I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay.”

You shift in your seat from the awkward turn of events and say your thoughts out loud. “Let’s see…” You do the math in your head. “That would’ve been ’92. I met him in ’95. We got married in ’97...”

“And everything with Umbrella went to shit in ’98.” Jake finishes.

You feel the side of your mouth curl into a half smile. “You’ve done your homework.”

The alarm outside the room suddenly stops, and you hear a hissing noise from the hallway outside. You look to the door, then back at Jake. “I’ll tell you more later. We gotta get moving.”

You stand up from your chair and check the panel on the door. Still red. It’s going to take a minute or two for the gas to filter out of the hallway. You look over your shoulder at Jake.

“Did you end up finding that sample by the way? Or a way to contact the Tokyo base?”

Jake frowns and checks his pistol. “No, but I have a better idea of where those things could be.”

You sigh and shake your head. “Better than nothing, I guess. Any theories?”

Jake shrugs. “Half this place used to be a military base and the other half an Umbrella lab that’s had some renovations. The old lab holds the old samples-”

“So the newer part of the lab should have the new samples and the military part should have a radio?”

Jake smirks and points at you. “If everything goes right, we’ll be outta here by sunset.”

The office door panel beeps and lights up green. You smile and slide the red card and the door swooshes open. You look back to Jake. “I like the sound of that. Let’s go.”

As you both walk back out into the hallway, you notice it’s still eerily empty. However, the security doors are still engaged at both ends of the hallway. You and Jake walk over to the door you were heading through before the lockdown. You scan the red keycard and it declines. You huff and scan the black keycard, and you hear the lock disengage and the security doors split open and return their respectful halves to the floor and ceiling. You look at the black keycard with a stern look as Jake walks though.

“Only guards can open security doors? That sounds like a shitshow waiting to happen.”

“You an expert on security now too? C’mon we’ve got a schedule to-”

Jake is cut off by a loud buzzer, followed by the security doors slamming shut so you and Jake are on opposite sides. Jake hurries up to the doors and looks at you through one of the small windows in the middle.

“What the hell? Try the card again maybe it’s a timer thing.”

You scan the black card again, but it returns an error message. You shake your head in annoyance, but then it turns into concern when you hear shouting and footsteps from the direction of the observation rooms you were held in.

“It’s giving me an error message. Try yours on that side!” You shout at Jake through the door.

You see Jake’s face as he scans the panel on his side but based on how Jake grits his teeth in frustration he’s probably not having any better luck than you. You hear shouting and footsteps growing louder. Jake notices and tries to pry open the security doors with his hands. You scan the red card again, but it also returns an error message.

“Shit! Jake, they know which cards we took and deactivated them. They’re no good!”

You throw down the cards and take a few steps back to get a better look at the hallway to find an alternate route or some structural weakness in the door arch, but you notice nothing. The sounds of guards shouting and running are getting even closer. Your only chance of getting out of here is Jake. He can’t be here when you’re ultimately discovered.

You hurry back up to one of the windows on the security door to shout at Jake. “You need to go, now!”

Jake ignores you and keeps looking for purchase on the door, but it’s too smooth to get a decent grip to pull it open.

“Jake!” You scold.

Jake pauses to look at you, scowling.

“They obviously want me alive I’ll be fine. You find that sample and radio for help. I’ll stall for as long as I can.”

Jake’s scowl on his face deepens as he tries to open the mechanical door again, but his efforts are fruitless. He finally slams a hand on the door and lets out an annoyed huff and looks back at you through the window.

“You’re sure you’ll be fine on your own?”

More yelling and bangs echo down the hall.

“More than likely, yes. Just be quick about it. I’d rather not be a lab rat if I can help it.”

Jake takes one more analyzing look at the door and gives you a curt nod, clearly not happy with the new set of circumstances.

“Don’t say anything that’ll piss em’ off more.”

“No promises, now go!”

You turn around at the sound of the opposite security door opening, and you hear Jake’s footsteps grow further and further before they disappear and are replaced with the stomping of a battalion of gas masked soldiers. A group of eight quickly block off your only exit and train their semi-automatic TMP’s on you. Seeing as you’re heavily outnumbered, you put your hands up in surrender.

As you do, a wiry man a little taller than you walks leisurely through the intimidating crowd of masked faces. He wears a suit under a pristine white lab coat and looks at you with cold eyes through a pair of square glasses.

“Where is Muller, Doctor?”

You recognize the lilting voice immediately. This is Youju. Your immediate impression is that he’s much too young to be the director of this facility. But then again, Umbrella is chock full of young prodigies. Time to buy Jake some time.

“I could care less about where he went. As I told you before, he’s not my son.”

“I see.” Youju walks a few steps past the line of guards towards you and looks at the mechanical door behind you, skeptical.

“Why stop here Dr. Wesker? Why this door?”

“Because your security system needs some work. It closed and it can’t be opened.” You reply, curtly.

“Then why didn’t you run?”

“I’ve been in enough scrapes to know when I’ve been backed into a corner.” It’s not a lie. Even though your main goal is to distract these people, you know when you’re beat. Especially when you have an overwhelming handful of guns trained on you.

Youju frowns. “You still haven’t answered my question. Where. Is. Muller?”

“I. Don’t. Know. We went our separate ways when it became convenient.” You reply condescendingly, already tired of answering Youju’s questions.

Youju narrows his eyes at you, calculating his response. “Very well then. Since you’re so keen on seeing what amenities this facility has to offer, allow me to give you a guided tour.”

“I’d rather go back to my room. I’ve had enough cardio for today.”

Youju waves his hand and the guards put their guns down, save for one who quickly positions himself behind you with his gun still aimed at your back. Youju gives you a chilling smile. “I must insist, Doctor.”

As Youju walks back through the crowd of guards, he announces one more command to the crowd of guards.

“Find the other one. Alive. Maim him if you must, but ensure he is brought to me in one piece.”

Not ten minutes later, Youju and his guard lead you deeper into the facility, seemingly with one destination in mind for your guided tour. Youju leads the way in front of you, while the soldier trails behind never once lowering his weapon. He seems to be leading you into the newly renovated parts of the lab. There are no windows into the many rooms you pass so you have no inkling of what could be going on behind closed doors, but Youju ignores all of them in favor of the main lab at the center of the facility.

He scans a white key card and a large lock disengages from the mechanism in the middle of the door, spinning until it’s completely free before the doors finally open to reveal another set of sliding doors. Youju scans the card again and enters with you and the soldier right behind him.

It's a room with several scientists checking over miscellaneous machines and monitors, as well as fridges with multiple different colored chemical substances. All of them periodically glance over their respective stations and into the observation chamber below through the window that takes up the entire expanse of the wall opposite the door. A handful of soldiers line the wall in the back of the room. Youju saunters in and stands by a monitor that flickers to show a different part of the facility every fifteen seconds or so. A microphone stands idly next to it. Youju trains his dark eyes on you, a barely noticeable sly smile on his face.

“Welcome to the inner sanctum, Doctor. I would like your thoughts on my latest and greatest project.”

You cross your arms defiantly and shift your weight with a bored expression on your face. “As I said before, I have no interest in any job you have to offer me.”

“I didn’t offer you employment. I only ask that you take a cursory look. I assure you, he will be of great interest to you.” Youju speaks in that same, know-it-all tone from when you were stuck in your quarters. Like he wants you to figure out his point.

Better yet, who’s ‘he?’

You roll your eyes and humor him.

You look over the consoles and into the chamber below. There are illuminated chambers filled with substances you don’t recognize and over a dozen machines tracking something you can’t discern from this distance. The cylindrical tank in the middle of the room is the focal point of the observation chamber. It glows with a foreboding orange light, illuminating the space in between itself and you. At first, you can’t tell what the tank holds with the light emanating from it shining in your eyes. When your eyes adjust to the light, one by one you notice features of the creature inside; you see the outline of a man. Then notice one of its arms is much longer and darker than the other. The scar tissue across its chest. Then, most devastatingly, disheveled, slicked back blonde hair.

Your heart drops and your annoyed expression shifts into something much more terrified.

“Where… that’s not…”

But it was. Behind the glass in the chamber below was the body of a mutated Albert Wesker floating in a liquid filled chamber. His chest and legs are overtaken by burnt scar tissue, but otherwise look about the same as the last time you saw him; although you don’t like to think about that series of events.

The bomber. The volcano. The helicopter that he almost pulled down into the lava with him. Any one of those scenarios could have easily ended with your death, the world ending or Uroboros in your arm. Not that the three were that different regarding the death part.

The last time you saw Wesker, he had mutated into the monster he had become on the inside. His snake eyes glowed red, black Uroboros burst from beneath his skin around his eyes, worms of Uroboros completely overtook his chest and arms, which he could stretch to great lengths, and he was altogether consumed by rage. Rage against Chris for besting him once again, rage against himself for underestimating him, and you were certain rage against you for betraying him.

You stare blankly into the chamber as the reality of the situation sets in: Youju went to great lengths to find Albert. You didn’t know how he could have found him after so long, but you knew this man had to mine through volcanic rock at best and perform an underwater excavation of a volcano at worst to exhume him. Whatever he has planned, it can only spell doom for whatever unfortunate soul falls in Albert’s wake. Your body can’t bring itself to move, so you stand frozen by the console of the observation room overlooking the chamber Albert is in.

“The union of Wesker and Uroboros is truly a remarkable miracle of nature,” Youju says smugly, relishing in your shock.

All you can do in the moment is gape at your husband in horror.

“There’s nothing natural about this.” Your voice comes out small. Rattled. Nothing like how you planned when you stepped into this room.

“Natural? That’s a matter of perspective, Doctor. We are seeing evolution in real time.” Youju is enjoying your torment, but there is a pit forming in your stomach that is screaming for you to talk sense into him. You know in your bones that this is a bad idea, but you can’t articulate it into words that will break through to the Director. You knew men like him. He won’t listen until it’s too late, but you try anyway.

“Whatever you’re planning is not worth the consequences you’re going to reap from playing God.” You still stare at Wesker’s peaceful, mutated face.

“I assure you it will be. Your husband is an incredible case study. He was medically dead when we found him, but you know as well as I do that the dead don’t tend to stay that way for long in our profession. Uroboros preserved his brain and nervous system better than any modern medical instrument you or I could have hoped to have at our disposal.” Youju explains with pride.

“Weapon, DNA, or emotional blackmail?” You reply cooly, still staring at Wesker in the chamber below.

“Whichever has the highest bidder. Although I think the value of a subject like him transcends material wealth, so I’ll hold off on an auction for now. I have more pressing plans first.”

You break your gaze from Wesker’s body in the chamber and look at Youju with a cautious expression, curious as to what he means.

“We know his brain is showing activity, but he hasn’t woken up you see. All the regular avenues for breaking comatose states have been exhausted.”

Youju turns to the chamber and puts his hand on the window thoughtfully as he speaks.

“Sure, we could harvest his DNA and easily make our investment in excavating him a drop in the bucket. As you’ve said, his DNA is one in a trillion. But it’s not just his DNA that makes him unique, it’s his mind as well. He was- is- the greatest mind manufactured by man. By Oswald Spencer himself. What I would give to speak with him! To know his thoughts on my research. To continue where Spencer was forced to stop.”

The Director looks away from Wesker and back to you, with a giddy look you know all too well. It’s a dissecting look of a scientist attempting to peel away the mystery of an unsolved problem.

“But then one of my researchers had an interesting hypothesis. This is not a regular subject so normal avenues are more than likely going to prove fruitless. Perhaps Wesker needs a familiar face as an extra incentive to chat with us. Someone who knew him much more personally than anyone else. Someone like you. We’ve already tried recordings of your voice, and they’ve yielded positive results, but not the one’s we’re looking for.”

“The saying ‘you should never meet your heroes,’ definitely applies in this case. You need to quit while you’re ahead. You’re inviting nothing but trouble by indulging this fantasy.” You warn, unable to wipe the look of barely contained terror on your face.

Youju tilts his head and gives you a mocking pout.

“Awww… what’s wrong Dr. Wesker? I thought this would be a happy reunion for you. After all, you survived him. He respected your intellect. It’s not every day that a genius offers his lover a place beside him in a new world. And don’t deny it. I’ve seen the footage of him offering you Uroboros on multiple occasions. I’m not a betting man, but I’d say those weren’t the only times he tried to convince you.”

“Director, you need to stop-”

“Not until I get what I want.” Youju’s gaze turns cold and he flips a switch on the console in front of you both. A red light above it switches to green. The guard behind you raises his gun to your head. Youju turns his face towards the microphone but keeps his eyes on you.

“Albert Wesker, you have a visitor. A personal visitor. Go ahead and say hello my dear.”

You avoid looking into the chamber and keep your mouth shut while staring down Youju. You would rather die than awaken that monster.

“Your wife is here to see you Dr. Wesker. Mrs. Doctor Wesker, if you know what’s good for you, please speak into the microphone.” The tone the Director uses reminds you of a car salesman; sleazy and said with a gritted smile. Attempting to get you to bend to his will no matter the cost if it gets you to sign the metaphorical dotted line.

When you keep your mouth shut, Youju motions to the guard behind you and you feel the cold steel of the muzzle of the gun on the back of your head. Your breath becomes unsteady, but you stay silent. He needs you. He wouldn’t kill you so quickly when he needs you. You’re sure of it.

“You know I’m not a patient man dear. Speak, or I will make you.” Youju spits out the warning, his patience already wearing thin.

You clench your jaw and stay silent. You fully intend to stay quiet, even though the urge to call Youju a dumb motherfucker is strong. You see a flicker on one of the cameras on Youju’s monitor. A figure. You weren’t going to pay it any mind, but even out of the corner of your eye you recognize the large scar on the side of Jake’s face.

Youju lets out an annoyed huff at your continued silence, currently unaware of Jake’s presence. “I wanted to avoid making this messy, but it seems you’ve left me with no other option.”

Youju turns around and starts to bend down towards a drawer below the monitor. You panic. Jake is your only hope in getting the B.S.A.A. here. You can’t let his stealth go to waste.

“Albert!” You spit out the name without thinking. You already feel sick to your stomach at your choice of action, but it has its intended effect immediately. Youju snaps his attention away from the monitor’s direction and back to you, then back to the chamber, then to a monitor off to the side that you now realize is displaying brainwave activity. His brainwave activity. You hadn’t noticed it before because the brainwaves were barely perceptible, only small mole hills on a nearly straight line. Now, like a rising tide, the red wave on the monitor grows in intensity along with your heartbeat.

Youju stares at the monitor with you in awe, then turns his attention to the chamber while speaking to you. “Go on. Tell him to wake up.”

“Albert dear?” You pause to take a shallow breath of air. The red wave rises higher on the monitor. “I need you to wake up.”

The more the red wave rises, the more animated the other scientists in the room become. Youju most of all. Everyone buzzes with excitement over their machines and data displaying on the screens, but all you can do is stare at Wesker in the chamber with a lump in your throat.

You have an idea on how to get the upper hand. It’s stupid, suicidal, and against everything your brain is telling you not to do, but if it works it’s an almost guaranteed way for these people to lock you in your room again until the B.S.A.A. can get here with proper reinforcements.

“Albert help me they have a gun to my head!”

Almost immediately, beeping sounds emanate from each and every machine in the room. One by one, every piece of machinery has warning lights on their displays and nervous chattering erupts from the scientists. The red wave on the brainwave monitor devolves into jittery valleys and peaks. You see Wesker in his water chamber twitching, and his peaceful face morph into an angered scowl that you know all too well.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Youju scolds as he switches off the microphone. He grabs your shoulder in a tight grip and walks you back closer to the door away from the window seemingly the only one not concerned with the sudden uptick in activity on the monitors and more peeved at your little stunt.

“That’s enough from you for now Doctor.” He turns his attention to the guard behind you. “Take her back to-”

Youju’s command is interrupted by the sound of glass cracking, a rush of water and metal screeching in the chamber below. Youju’s eyes grow wide and he immediately rushes back over to the window. He turns his head to say something, but before he’s able to, a pipe breaks through the glass of the observation chamber and into Youju’s skull with so much force that blood splatters on you from across the room and you stumble to the floor in your shock.

All hell breaks loose. Some scientists scream, others duck and cover, a handful try and fail to open the door to the hallway, the soldier leaves your side and open fires on Wesker in the chamber along with the other ones in the room.

You can’t seem to escape from the bloodshed. No matter where you turn, more blood splashes across your clothes but you manage to keep your escape in mind: grab Youju’s white keycard to get out of the room. You do your best to block out the grisly sight of Youju’s head as you army crawl across the floor. The white keycard, now stained crimson in some places, hangs precariously from his belt. A black and blonde blur dives into the room from the chamber and the screams grow louder and more frightened. You grab the keycard and you crawl behind a large cabinet that got overturned in the chaos in the corner of the room and make yourself as small as possible by hugging your knees to your chest. You clutch the keycard for dear life.

Meanwhile, in the background, you hear Wesker spewing insults as he tears through the room.

“Ignorant cretins! Worthless, self-righteous chaff! Inferior good for nothing fools!”

Something in Wesker’s voice puts you on edge, and it has nothing to do with the fact he’s seething with rage or leaving a trail of blood and viscera and broken machinery in his wake. You can’t quite describe it, other than that it sounds wrong. The voice is Wesker’s, but the tone and intonation are just… off. Your Wesker spoke in a much sharper and eloquent manner. This voice is direct and garbled in some places.

In the moment, you don’t know which voice you’d prefer. You don’t have time to think on it when you feel a presence behind you. It’s only now that you realize the screams and cries of pain have gone silent. Your blood runs cold when you hear a familiar, yet unfamiliar voice in your ear that makes the hairs on your neck stand up.

“My dear? Oh, how I’ve missed you my sweet…”

You freeze. His tone is uncannily gentle. He’s so close, you can feel Wesker’s breath on your ear and neck. Everything in your body is screaming at you to run, but it’s like Wesker’s words have you under a paralytic spell.

“How dare they touch what’s not theirs…”

A wet, slimy and black tendril slowly makes its way into the corner of your vision and gingerly tucks a flyaway hair behind your ear. You can’t bring yourself to move and you heart feels like it's about to burst out of your chest it's beating so fast.

You sense Wesker move his head closer to yours until you can feel the damp heat of him over your shoulder. Glass breaks on the other side of the room and he whips his head towards the sound. There’s one last scientist left. She’s trying to climb into the observation chamber, but she stepped on a piece of glass and now she’s gaping at Wesker in fear.

Wesker attacks her with the bloodlust of a wild animal, plunging his Uroboros arm into her chest and not stopping his assault until it reveals itself again when it pokes out through her mouth. She doesn’t even have a chance to scream. Only gurgle sounds of pain.

The grisly sight finally breaks the spell, and you bolt to the sliding doors and run the second the door registers Youju’s keycard.

You don’t stop when you hear Albert calling your name behind you.

You don’t stop when you see other guards and scientists coming out into the hallway to observe what caused such deafening, monstrous noises.

You don’t stop when you hear more screaming and gunfire erupting behind you.

You have no destination in mind when the hallways become unrecognizable.

The only thing consuming your thoughts is the fact that your psychopathic husband is alive, and that you’ve doomed the world because you destroyed the only Uroboros sample in existence to stop him in a misguided attempt to save it.

a/n 2: How's that for angst? More juiciness in the next part :)

If you've made it this far THANK YOU and sorry for this part being long I thought it would ruin the flow to split it up into two parts.

Tag List: @killerwendigo

#resident evil fanfiction #chris redfield x reader #but not in this part (again) because MORE PLOT #no beta we die like men #albert wesker #no use of y/n #angst #chris redfield #jake muller #resident evil #resident evil 6 #resident evil 6 spoilers #The Wife the Lover and the Bastard Son #resident evil 5

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kitsune-oji · 5 months

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Mission Accomplished

Another fic I had in my notes and thought I'd repost! Can't remember what I called it the first time around so it got a new title

Mephisto & Regressed!Mc (they/you)

Word count: 1'699

Warnings/Tags: positive Age Regression, regressor Mc, involuntary regression in public spaces, fluff, Mephisto is a bit tsundere?, Diavolo & co know about Mc's regression

You yawned, trying to be discreet about it while you continued watching your teacher talk. Really, you should be paying attention but you found that to be harder with every moment passing.

If only you weren't so tired and so incredibly comfortable at RAD. By now, the school, no, academy had basically become a second home to you. But it was also filled with so many stressors.

Of course, the at the House of Lamentation you had to fight for time alone as well and the constant attention and fights from the brothers stressed you out but at least you knew them and got comfortable with them. Here, there were so many people you didn't really know, a good portion being demons who didn't particularly like you either, just for being human.

Then there was the need to cram information into your head lesson after lesson, group projects, tests, presentations-

It was really no wonder you sometimes couldn't keep yourself from regressing on campus. Fortunately, the brothers knew about your age regression and always kept an eye out for you. If you did end up going tiny, there was usually always someone there to take care of you, to excuse you from the lesson and take you elsewhere. Somewhere you could stay and play until you slipped out of your headspace again.

It was sort of embarrassing that there was a corner for you to play in Diavolo's Office but oh well, it was nice having them all support and care for you so much.

That was, usually. Right now, there was nobody around you for once. A rare occurrence but possible nonetheless.

It wasn't like you couldn't navigate and survive the RAD hallways on your own but when you felt yourself gently slipping into your headspace, a low simmering panic gripped you. Desperately, you tried to stay big, blinking rapidly and shaking your head but it was of no help.

It was one of those times when you couldn't control it at all. Had something triggered it? You didn't notice anything that could have but sometimes you don't understand why your brain reacts the way it does.

Anyway, you had to figure out what to do. There were lots of other students in the halls, you were undercover now, they couldn't know you're actually tiny. Your mission was to get somewhere safe without anyone finding out you're not big right now.

Alright, you nodded your head sharply only once, determined to succeed.

It was strange walking like this, so tall, your limbs feeling kind of lanky and clumsy in their movements. You tried to take control of them as best you could but a part of you was worried you looked weird in the way you walked. Did you look like a robot? Maybe, maybe not.

Your lips pursed but then you noticed and quickly tried to stop, pressing them together instead. Subtly, you looked around, seeing a door that wasn't like the others. It looked kind of similar to the one heading into Dia's office and with a spring in your step, you quickly walked over to it, happy to find it opening easily.

In one swift movement, you walked in confidently and closed the door, stopping in your tracks while looking at it. Mission accomplished!

Your facade fell like a heavy cloak from your shoulders, a big grin stretching your lips and a giggle as clear as the sound of bells ringing out. You did it! You really did it!

Euphoric, you turned around, just to see another wall in front of you. No, not a wall, a chest.

Slowly, your gaze wandered up to the face of the person standing in front of you. Tan skin, purple hair, looking a bit haughty... You've seen him a few times before. Mephio-hm mephispophe- no, whatever, Mephi.

He looked a bit scary standing so close and looking down at you in what you guessed was disapproval? Sometimes you guessed expressions wrong but you thought you were probably right this time.

Your hands clasped behind your back, you rocked on the palms of your feet, pressing them together just like your lips again. Should you say something?

"What are you doing in here? Do you know how rude it is to just barge in without even knocking?"

Ah, right. You didn't think anyone was in here but Lucifer did say knocking is important.

"'m sorry..", you mumbled, trying to rub your feet together. It proved a bit difficult with your shoes in the way.

Since you were looking to the side, you couldn't see the frown on Mephisto's face deepen. He was sure you were behaving strangely, the few times he had seen or even interacted with you, you hadn't behaved like a child but now..

"Never mind that now, what are you doing here?"

Mephisto sighed and relaxed slightly. There was no reason to stay mad at something he couldn't change right now. Rather, there were much more pressing matters, such as your behavior and sudden appearance in the RAD newspaper office. You should be glad he was the only one here right now.

"A mission!", you exclaimed much to the demon's surprise, "Gotta get away from people outside cuz they can't know I'm-"

Gasping, you clasped your hands in front of your mouth as your eyes widened. You had almost just told on yourself! The mission wasn't successful at all! He had seen you when you weren't acting big!

But why was that bad again? Mephisto didn't seem dangerous or angry or put off by you, so it should be ok, right?

While you were thinking, he watched your facial expressions change with your thoughts. You really had no filter when you were regressed, it seemed.

Yet Mephisto didn't know the reason for your strange behavior and only watched on in curiosity. The more he saw, the more he was sure that you acted like a child.

Unrestrained, honest, pure. The demon had to admit it was kind of cute, no matter how strange the situation was.

"Can't know what?", he asked after a while, eyes following your hands as they lowered and you fiddled with your fingers, unconsciously pulling at your skin.

Without thinking about it, Mephisto took your hands in his and stopped you from further pulling on your skin, his tone reprimanding when he told you to stop it before you accidently hurt yourself. But apparently he sounded too mean because the next thing he knew, your bottom lips started wobbling and tears gathered in your eyes as your shoulders started to shake.

Eyes wide, the demon let go of your hands and apologised, ushering you further into the room and to one of the couches, asking if he could touch you to soothe you. He had meant to maybe rub your back but instead you sobbed and threw your arms around him in response.

A bit overwhelmed, Mephisto shushed you and rubbed your back until you calmed down, handing you a tissue when you finally let go of him. Though it was surprising, he couldn't really say that he minded.

Was that how he found himself walking with you towards Lord Diavolo's office? You held his hand and walked funnily, making strange sounds the whole way there.

He had asked you if you wanted to go somewhere else, since he had no idea what to do with you right now and thought he heard wrongly at first.

"T' Dia!", you had said, throwing Mephisto off completely.

"You mean Lord Diavolo?"

"Yea, Dia!"

Your open palms flew through the air in your excitement. Since going to him meant play time, of course you wanted to go there, surely Mephi must know that, right?

But of course he didn't know, how could he? Still, Mephisto agreed to accompany you to the prince's office on school grounds.

Part of him was glad that class was currently in session and nobody but the two of them roamed the halls. Hell forbid someone saw him with the human exchange student, while they were acting strangely at that.

Though no matter what Mephisto thought, he started treating you as you were acting. Like a child.

There wasn't much thought behind it, it was almost instinctual in the way he made sure you didn't trip and held your hand without complaint. Perhaps this was the the effects of a curse? That was the only reasonable explanation he could come up with.

Until you arrived at Diavolo's office and you let go of his hand to run up to the future demon King with no warning. Instead of confusion however, Diavolo responded with laughter as he quickly stood up to catch you in his arms and spin you around to lessen the impact of your tackle hug.

To him, it was clear that you were regressed. After the many times he had looked after you, it was no surprise. But Mephisto only seemed more confused than before.

For now, Diavolo ignored his questions and set up the play mat and toys with a flick of his wrist. They flew from the cabinets and found their places neatly, only to be disturbed by your hands the moments Diavolo gently set you down.

Normally, he would have let you explain it yourself but Mephisto wouldn't leave until he understood what was happening and since he had already seen you like this anyway..

After the short but precise explanation Diavolo gave him, Mephisto looked back at you.

He watched the way you looked entertained by stacking smooth wooden blocks on top of each other, trying to make the tallest tower but failing again and again. Sometimes, you even destroyed it yourself, sounds of delight leaving you as you clapped your hands.

Not a curse then, just the wonders of the human brain.

Thinking about it, he wouldn't mind taking care of you again, though vehemently denied it when Diavolo asked. Judging by his laugh however, Mephisto hadn't fooled him at all.

Still, if you came to the Rad newspaper club again while in this state of mind, Mephisto would be sure to help you out.

Just because Diavolo would want him to, of course- !

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rawritzrobin · 1 year

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Worst Kept Secret

Characters: Derek Hale, Stilinski!Twin, Noah Silinski, Mentions of Stiles

Pairings: Derek Hale x Stilinski!Twin Reader

Summary: It was the first time that you had been away from Stiles involuntary. But your dad somehow makes it better.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: None! Just some cuteness.

A/N: Sorry for the delay! I have been working on my other story for a bit. But here it is (finally). This was a request basically asking: What if Noah found out about you and Derek. I trifled for a while about how he would react. I went with a fluffy one. :3 Still taking requests for this series if y’all want more.

You had not left your room since you and your dad dropped Stiles off. You knew it was his choice and it was the best choice. None of you knew what was wrong with him or how to fix it. It was for everyone’s safety.

But that didn’t mean that you were happy about it.

You had spent most of your day sulking. You didn’t want to go out knowing that Stiles was trapped in that place with people who were meant to be there. He was only there because there was an unknown supernatural force trying to take over his body.

You looked down sadly at your phone. Derek had been texting you all day making sure you were okay. Your dad had the day off today, so he couldn’t exactly come over and hang out with you. You could only muster one worded messages.

There was a knock on your door. “Come in. You said.” You were sitting on your bed, leaning against the frame.

“You feeling better?” Noah asked gently. He knew you weren’t, but he wanted to make sure you were okay. You and Stiles hadn’t been apart since Stiles took off for science camp that one week when you were in grade school. At first, you were excited to be away from him. But then after two days, you started to feel lonely. Like a piece of you was missing. Stiles was feeling the same way as he had asked Noah to drive him home after the fourth day.

“Not really." You said bringing your legs up as you curled yourself into a ball. You couldn’t fight the dark feeling in the pit of your stomach that something was horribly wrong.

It was hard for him to see you like this. He knew that even though you and Stiles were two entirely different people, you two really depended on each other for comfort. You two leaned on each other when your mother passed. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if you two didnt have each other.

Noah let out a big sigh. “I can’t believe I'm saying this, but why don’t you have Derek stay over tonight?” He said out of nowhere.

You looked at him with wide eyes and spluttered “Why would you say that? Why would I want Derek here of all people?”

Noah took a deep breath, and sat next to you on your bed. “Honey, you really think I didn’t know?”

Your eyes widened even more. He showed no signs that he knew about you and Derek. You thought for sure that he would have been furious and tried to break you two up. You saw him the day you brought your first crush home in middle school. He was furious and demanded the kid leave right away.

“How long have you known?” You asked, curious.

“Do you remember the day you wore your mom’s old sunflower dress?”

You smiled at the memory. You wore the dress out on a date with Derek. He took you out of town to a small town not too far from here. It had been right after finals and after being super stressed out for weeks over your math test, you could finally relax. Derek took you to a fancy restaurant by the beach, and you two spent most of the day walking down the beach, watching the sunset. It was the first time you wore that dress since your mom passed. It was her favorite thing to wear whenever your dad had time to take the four of you out on a day trip.

“That long huh?” You chuckled. “Guess we aren’t as good at hiding our feelings as we thought we were.”

There was a peaceful silence.

“You’re not mad?” You asked, a little scared.

You dad sighed again. “At first, I was. I was trying to find ways to kill him and make it seem like a freak accident. But then all the things about werewolves and magical creatures came up, and the only thing on my mind was protecting you and Stiles. And after that night in the hospital, I saw the way he looked at you. Like you were the only thing that mattered in his life. The way he put himself in front of you at any sign of danger. I knew at least with him in your life, he could protect you when I can’t.”

You couldn’t believe what your dad was saying to you right now. You slapped yourself in the face lightly.

“What are you doing?” Noah asked with a laugh.

“Making sure I'm not dreaming. Did I actually wake up from that attack? Am I still in the hospital?” You asked, flustered, wrapping your arms around yourself to make sure you were not in a coma or something.

Noah merely shook his head and stood up. “Give him a call. Tell him he's allowed only until 11PM. It’s still a school night, so he needs to be out of here before you go to sleep. Oh and the door is to remain open at all times. You hear me?” He said, in his usual tone.

You nodded happily, already grabbing your phone to text Derek.

Noah was about to leave, when he turned around to ask you one last question. “You really thought I wouldn’t find out?”

You gave him a guilty smile. “No…”

“Honey.” He said, crossing his arms. “I’m the sheriff.” He said with confidence.

You laughed and threw a pillow at him. “That was so lame.” He caught it with ease and let out a laugh. “I’ll go get us three some takeout. Pizza?” He asked.

You nodded, “Thanks dad.”

Noah left your room and made his way down the stairs.

You looked down at your phone at the text Derek sent. “Is he going to kill me in his own home?”

You laughed. “Just come over and you’ll find out.”

You sent the text, and fell backwards into your bed. You felt somewhat happier. Stiles was still stuck in that institution, but at least you could now spend more time worrying about fixing this mess, instead of hiding your relationship with Derek from your dad.

“Oh and honey.” You heard Noah say from downstairs.

“Yeah dad?”

“No werehuman babies just yet okay? I’m not ready for that.”

You turned bright red at his comment. Maybe it was better he was kept in the dark.

#Derek Hale x Reader #Derek Hale x y/n #Teen Wolf #Derek Hale #Stiles Stilinski #Teen Wolf x reader #Derek Hale x You #Derek x Reader #Derek Hale Imagine #Derek Hale One Shot #Teen Wolf Fanfiction #Stilinski!twin #iwritethings #noah stilinski

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cottoncandyopinions · 8 months

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If this is such a free fucking country, why the fuck can't we apply informed consent to more things? Why the fuck do I have to beg a doctor and convince him I'm not insane just to get a medication that has a chance at helping me?

Like. I have PCOS. Spironolactone is prescribed for PCOS symptoms caused by androgens, like hair loss, hirsutism, and acne. I have PCOS and I have those symptoms. So why the fuck do I have to debate my doctor into offering it because "Oh but have you tried to lose weight? Here's nutrition guidelines, ask me again in a few months."

Like yeah. Medications have fucking risks. The estrogen in my fucking birth control puts me at a higher risk of stroke and raises my blood pressure, but going on the med that can balance my hormones and lower my blood pressure? Oooooh we gotta think about that.

And what about diagnostic shit too! Not even just medicines! Like yeah I get that you can't give an exploratory major surgery every time someone fucking asks, but why the hell can't I just walk up and just ask for an MRI scan? Or an x-ray? Fucking ultrasound? We gotta have daddy doctor's permission just to CHECK?

And what about fucking CPAP machines? My partner has sleep apnea and it's horrific to learn. You basically have to pay out of pocket for the fucking things even with insurance, but YOU HAVE TO GET A PRESCRIPTION. Okay listen. No one is going to be fucking harmed if they use a machine to help them breathe better at night, even if they don't need it like what the fuck is it gonna do that's a problem?

The claim there is "Oh but you want to be sure you get the right one because some people need extra features" and all I can think is like. Is it BETTER for someone with sleep apnea to have NOTHING AT ALL? That's like denying someone a basic rescue inhaler when there's a formulation that works better, like maybe it's best they DON'T choke.

I just. Idk. I'm not anti medical or anti science. I'm just fucking chronically ill and tired, and there's no help out there. I'm tired of having to deal with doctors making decisions that involve leaving me to suffer when I can't do anything about it.

Like. The main barrier to treatment for my longest term condition is a fucking diagnostic test. I have a muscle condition that makes it impossible for me as is, and physical therapy confirmed it was likely worsened by the pain and inflammation, and the muscle work alone wouldn't fix it.

And they could accommodate me. I've met so many people shocked that they won't, because they were accommodated. A muscle relaxer, a xanax, topical numbing, laughing gas, even putting me under are all options that others in my position have been offered. And I get denied any of those options because "it's not standard" and "you need to suck it up" over involuntary muscle spasms...

I don't care about fucking risks anymore, because is it really any less of a risk to live in pain, feel my body weaken from fatigue and dysfunction, all while there's something in my body actively causing harm to me and I have no way of even knowing how far it's spread, how serious it is, if it's harming my internal organs, anything...

Why the fuck can't I just sign a form saying I understand all the risks and then just ask for what I fucking need? I don't want to sound like I have a big head, but I've never been wrong about this shit. Every fucking issue or problem I spent years trying to convince doctors to listen and look into my concerns, and consistently when they eventually finally do, I turn out to be right. I hate it.

#Endometriosis #Vaginismus #chronic illness #Disability #Chronic pain #Doctors

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lostdreamr-blog1 · 2 years

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Whiskey For Your Thoughts

A/N: Having a rough week and it’s only Tuesday. As always, turned to writing and thought I would share this short piece with you all. Hope it can help in some way! My inbox is always open for you all!

Pairings: Jake “Hangman” Seresin X College!Reader

Warnings: fluff, sweet Hangman

Word Count: 900

Summary: The reader is nearing the end of their college degree, but one single test can ruin it all. A certain pilot knows how to cheer them up.

Today was one of those days where it seemed like the world was against you. To say you had been working hard towards your degree would be severely understating it. Years have been put in for all of it to come crashing down on you. The control you once felt was no more, and you felt everything slipping from your hands too quickly to stop it. And just like any normal person put in this position, you found yourself sitting on the kitchen floor with a bottle of whiskey in your hands.

That’s how your boyfriend found you. Head back, bottle up, with no regard for the world around you. His footsteps getting louder told you your fun was probably coming to an end. And sure enough, the bottle was gently taken from your hands.

You looked up with a pout to see Jake kneeling down in front of you, a look of concern on his face. “That was uncalled for.” You heard the slight slur in your words and mentally slapped yourself for it. He wouldn’t give it back now.

“Want to tell me what happened?” His tone seemed light, but you knew he was trying not to upset you further.

“Why do you assume something happened?” You watched him bite back a smile and tilt his head a bit.

“Darlin’, the only time you drink whiskey is when you want to forget something, or you’re tryin’ to get me in bed. And last I checked, I wasn’t home when you started drinking so it must be the first option.” Damn this man for knowing you too well.

You let out a small huff and crossed your arms. “Rough day at school, that’s all.” Jake knew it was something more, he always did. So, his next question shouldn’t have gotten to you as bad as it did.

“You finish in what, one week? You know your stuff and you are by far the smartest person I know, so what’s getting to you?” Your eyes fixated on the worn-out tile underneath you as you tried to keep your emotions in check. But man, this day was beating you up.

“I spent three years leading up to this moment and I have one test that is in my way. If I fail it, then all of this was for nothing. A complete waste of time. Today we took this pretest thing that basically showed us how we do on our final. I failed it by three points. How is it that I can study all damn day and put my heart into something just to fail?” You looked up at your boyfriend and saw his face drop at your admission.

He dragged a thumb over your cheek to wipe the tears you didn’t know escaped. It was an involuntary motion, but you leaned into his touch, needing it more that you initially thought. Jake saw this and moved to sit next to you on the ground, pulling you into his side.

“This is only one bump in the road. Don’t let this test knock you down because you have earned this degree. I know I’m just a dump pilot, but I do know how hard you have worked for this.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at what he said. You both knew he was one of the best pilots in the country, but right now it didn’t matter. Your world seemed to be falling apart and he was the glue you needed to keep it together.

“What if I fail?” He pulled back some and turned your face so he could look you in the eyes.

“You can’t think like that, sweetheart. If I went out there every time I had a rough mission and thought that, I would get hurt and my team hurt. If this was supposed to be easy, everyone would be doing it. I have all the faith that you are going to kill this test and then we are going to have the biggest celebration after.” He gave you one of his rare, genuine smiles and kissed the top of your head.

“Let’s get you showered and into bed. You’re going to be feeling the whiskey in the morning.” He got off the floor and effortlessly picked you up.

“I can walk, Jake. I didn’t have that much to drink.” You saw a smirk appear on his face and knew he was up to no good.

“Maybe I just want to carry my girl to bed. Is that such a crime?” You tipped your head back and laughed, slowly forgetting about your previous pity party.

“To say you weren’t here when I had the whiskey out, you sure do seem like you have something on your mind.” It was his turn to laugh, and you couldn’t help but smile at the happiness on his face. He caught you staring and asked what you were thinking of.

“I love you, Jake.” He stopped walking and looked down at you in his arms, “Darlin’, there is no one else in the world that I will ever love more than you.” He gave you a soft kiss on the tip of your nose and in that single moment, everything was perfect.

#jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #top gun maverick #hangman top gun #hangman x reader #fluff #topgun #jake seresin

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mikerickson · 8 months

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Recently learned about this device with a ridiculous name. Basically during the Cold War, the Canadian government worried that gays and lesbians working in their ranks could be blackmailed by communists to leak national secrets, so they came up with a test. A participant (willing or otherwise) would be shown alternating slides of straight and gay porn, and then their pupils would be measured for involuntary increases (signalling arousal).

At face value I wondered if something like that would work, but this was a pretty thorough takedown of the approach and why it didn't work:

The functional mechanism of the "fruit machine" was pseudo-scientific, and its results inaccurate. First, the pupillary response test was based on fatally flawed assumptions: That the chosen visual stimuli would produce a specific involuntary reaction that could be measured scientifically with 1960s technology; that homosexuals and heterosexuals would respond to these stimuli differently with enough frequency to sort them; and that there were only two types of sexuality. One physiological problem with the method was that the researchers failed to take into account the varying sizes of the pupils and the differing distances between the eyes. Other problems that existed were that the pictures of the subjects' eyes had to be taken from an angle, as the camera would have blocked the subjects' view of the photographs if it were placed directly in front. Also, the amount of light coming from the photographs changed with each slide, causing the subjects' pupils to dilate in a way that was unrelated to their interest in the picture. Finally, the dilation of the pupils was also exceedingly difficult to measure, as the change was often smaller than one millimeter. The idea was based on an unrelated study done by an American university professor, which measured the sizes of the subjects' pupils as they walked through the aisles of grocery stores.

#link #history #also the name took me out when I first heard it

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justplainwhump · 2 years

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Assignment

WRU Senior Handler Alan Nguyen tests the boundaries of his his new trainee.

References some of @ashintheairlikesnow s characters in the first part, and is heavily inspired by her facility whump.

[Angel's story]

Contents: BBU, noncon fingering, implied and frankly discussed noncon, romantic pet, institutionalized whump, shock collar, whumper pov.

Alan Nguyen skimmed through 002238's intake paperwork on his tablet. The file was larger than the average, classic indications for the cases of assisted walk ins. Lot more vetting necessary with these involuntary acquisitions. But also, lot more money to be made.

He raised a brow at Alex Nadler from Client Relations. "I see how she's a high security case, but I don't see how I come in. All romantic positions, no pain training, no specialty training, can't get more vanilla than that. Inability to say no, or 'quantum' - now that's a weird one, but still, give them a shock collar and even our interns could get this stuff out of her. Genital piercing. Well, Alex, I won't do that myself either. None of this matches my pay grade."

Alex cleared their throat, obviously uncomfortable. Good. Alan liked making people uncomfortable. He folded his arms and waited patiently.

"The client said he wanted only our best romantic handler on this case. According to client satisfaction, that's you, Mr Nguyen."

"That's me, but I don't do one-on-one training any longer. I oversee. I don't get in close."

Alex exhaled slowly, before they replied. "The Director says you do."

"The Director has another special friend who can do this instead of his actual job."

"You know as well as anyone that he only takes males. You're the best call for this one."

"Fine," Alan snapped and picked up the tablet. "I'm better than him anyway."

Alex granted him a thin smile and Alan replied in turn, before he added. "I want a junior handler in on this."

"There is one. Tyler Parker. He's gone over some of the basics with her already, while you were out on vacation." There was a small rebuke hidden in the emphasis on the last word that Alan chose to ignore. He was under no obligation to answer his phone on his holidays, not with how hard it was to find a timeslot just for him and his husband in Jeff's busy university schedule.

"Good. I want to meet him, before I see the pet."

Handler Parker was pretty much exactly as boyish as Alan had expected from someone called Tyler. Tall, broad shoulders, shaggy haircut and a stubble that definitely wouldn't have been allowed for a handler, when Alan had been his age 20 years ago.

"Handler Nguyen, Sir." Parker's back had straightened when Alan entered the observation room. Good start, at least, Alan supposed. "It's an honor, being assigned to you."

Alan nodded. "Thanks." He dropped the tablet on the desk and opened the training report. "She your first trainee?"

"Third. But first one in high security."

Alan tilted his head in acknowledgement. "You'll find out, it's the same work here, just more of it because there's less staff to help out." He pressed a button to fill the screen with the video image of the trainee in the neighboring training room. She was sitting still on her knees, hands open, oversized white tee loose around her body. Long blond hair fell around her shoulders, slightly unkempt. Her neck was a little reddened around the shock collar, yet apart from that she seemed physically unharmed, even fit.

Her brown eyes were boring into the camera, staring directly at them, from an otherwise calm face. Alan smirked. Probably alerted by the little red light turning on. He didn't particularly like the trainees to know when they were being watched. They should know they always were. But he did like what he saw in her gaze nonetheless. Determination, shrouded in obedience. When directed properly, that determination would be her undoing.

"What did you do with her so far?"

Parker's gaze flicked to the records in front of Alan and then back to his face. Alan smirked, but stayed silent.

"Um. According to the handbook, Sir. Stages 1.1 to 1.4. We went through the positions, all of them. And I... I went through some of the other basics, too. She... She took to it very eagerly. Quick to adapt."

"I take it by that you mean, you've fucked her?"

Parker nodded nervously, and Alan hid a smirk. That kid better dropped the shame about his job, or even his mind wiped trainees would be able to outsmart him.

"File says she's been sleeping around before. Any information on preferences?"

Parker shrugged. "Men. Past her was... very confident. Sex positive. Open to experiments, but mostly submissive."

"So, when you fucked her, how was it?"

The other handler blushed like a teenager, gaze flying to the girl on the screen. "What do you mean? Um. Soft. Pretty vanilla. PIV."

"PiV?" Alan chuckled. "Haven't heard that term said out loud in a while. But yeah. Guess I put that in the handbook. I didn't mean that, though. How was it?"

"Um, good, I guess? She, um. Knew what was expected."

Alan wouldn't get any more out of him. Good enough, then.

"Did you use violence?"

"No. She understood her situation. Little hesitant, but no fight."

"And… did she say no?"

"No. I've put her on shock collar treatment early on, though, for that 'no' request." He sounded almost a little proud. "She's learnt to avoid that word."

"Good. I'd expected her to be clever." Alan frowned. "What about the other word? Quantum, wasn't it?"

"Didn't come up yet." The rookie shrugged. "I thought I'd give it some time. Bringing it up artificially might have a negative impact on her training."

"Reasonable." Alan nodded in appreciation. "I concur. We'll look into that later."

Parker quickly scribbled some note down, before he looked up. Almost as eager as he'd described the trainee, Alan thought. Adorable.

"Um, so, Sir what would be your next step then?"

"Well." Alan smiled. "First, we'll test out the limits of her comfort zone. She ready?"

"Yes, Sir, she's all clean. Um. Stage 2.1. I knew you'd want to, um." He vaguely gestured at her rear and cleared his throat.

Alan waited.

"Um," Parker said again.

Alan rolled his eyes. "Fuck her ass. Breach her back door. Perform anal sex. PiA. I really don't care what words you use as long as you do use words. This is your job. You need to describe what we do. " He raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

"I... knew you'd fuck her ass," Parker said flatly.

"There. Not so hard." Alan unclipped the bottle of lube from his belt and tossed it over to the younger handler. "You're going lube her up, when I tell you to."

Parker looked from the bottle to the discreet container fixed to the wall of the training room. "Sir, WRU provides -"

"I've done this job for a while, kid. Trust me, the WRU stuff is shit."

"And while I do that you will-?"

Alan smirked and gestured for Parker to leave first. "Get to know her."

When the door slid open for them, announced by the faint beep of the key card reader, the trainee had already sunken into respect position. Alan felt a smile tug at his lips. Nobody learned that fast and actually meant it. Especially not an assisted walk in. They'd have forgotten their names, but they didn't forget they didn't want to be here. They'd feel a sting still, somewhere, of betrayal and defeat. It would pass eventually. But right now, she hated it here. And yet, she eagerly went through all the movements.

She was a faker. A liar, an actress, a manipulator - and Alan was here for it.

"Aren't you an obedient one?," he mumbled and reached out to tuck back a strand of her blond hair. She froze at his touch for the fraction of a second, before she leaned into it. Beautifully acted. "Identify yourself, trainee."

"002238," she said, gaze humbly cast down. "Designation romantic."

Some pets would mumble their number like robots, some spat it out like poison, some recited it reverently like the greatest poetry known to men.

This one plainly stated it, without much emotion or effort. A casual identifier, a string of numbers learned by heart, nothing more. As if she still was something else. As if those six digits didn't determine her entire existence.

It was alright.

They would, once Alan's work was done.

"That's right," he confirmed. "And that means you're going to be a good little slut for your owner."

She didn't even flinch, just paused the tiniest moment, before she replied. "Yes, Sir."

"I'm Senior Handler Nguyen. Handler Parker reports to me. From now on, I'm the one to oversee your training. It will be finished, when I'm convinced that you're ready." He looked her down with a fake frown, idly spinning the controller to her shock collar in his hands. "And I have high standards."

Her gaze flew up to his face. To his mild surprise, there was no fear in it. Just the hint of a challenge, smoothed over almost instantly by a carefully maintained neutrality.

"I will do my best, Sir," she said softly. There was an edge to her voice, a tiny rasp indicating that it wasn't used to softness. "I want to be good."

The pet meant what she'd said, even though from an entirely different motivation than what she wanted them to believe.

"Perfect." Fondly, Alan smiled.

He meant it, too.

"Get up. We'll go through positions. I want to see your best effort."

238 was a quick learner indeed, and Parker had done some good work with her. She went through most of the basic positions with a fluent grace that took other pets weeks to achieve.

"Position 35."

Instead of getting into position, she dropped to her knees and cast her eyes down in well-acted shyness. "I don't know this one, yet, Sir."

"All fours, hands and knees, legs slightly spread."

She complied without hesitation and looked up at him, gaze searching for approval. Alan smirked and spun his finger. "Ass towards me, trainee. That's a Romantic position. It's not your pretty face you need to be presenting."

He saw her shoulders tense the slightest bit, before she turned away. The line of her jaw had become harder.

"Parker?" Alan stepped aside and folded his arms.

In his stead, Parker stepped in between 238's legs and with one swift movement yanked down her short black sweatpants. She inhaled sharply, before letting out a controlled breath.

The pet hadn't been wearing anything underneath. Why should she? It was a matter of efficiency, really.

At some point, her owner might get her some lingerie, and by then, she'd accept it as a valued gift. But she was yet far from that point. Right now, what she had to learn was, that she didn't matter. Her preferences didn't matter. Her shame didn't matter.

"What's your purpose?", Alan asked. His thumb lightly rested on the remote to her shock collar.

"I serve," she replied. "I am made to serve my owner."

Behind her, silent and invisibly to her, Parker squeezed some of the lube on his hands and rolled his fingers in it.

"You're an active participant in fulfilling your owners desires," Alan prompted.

"I'm an act-" Parker's fingers slipped between her butt cheeks and she yelped.

Alan's thumb caressed the remote.

"No," 238 stuttered. "No, no, not this, no!"

Parker pulled back his fingers - quick thinking, or Alan would've taught him a lesson, too.

"Ah ah ah, pet. Wrong word," Alan chided. "You want to beg, the only word you say is 'please.'" He pushed the button.

With a garbled scream, 238 collapsed on the floor, twitching and writhing.

"Get back into position."

She obeyed, tears in her eyes.

"Go on, Handler Parker."

"Please," the pet whispered, looking at the ground. "Please, I can be good."

"You're good, when you don't object against what your betters want from you. And I want you to hold position. Take what you're given."

This time, when Parker touched her, 238 just sobbed. His index finger slipped into her, and her back arched, as if she was trying to fight him, but not just yet. Her breath came ragged and heavy. "Hnnghhhhh," she whimpered. Better than a no.

"You take whatever your owner gives you. Understood?"

Alan caught Parker's gaze and lifted two fingers. He followed.

238 yelped and shook her head. "Please," she whimpered. "Please."

"Understood?," Alan repeated sternly.

Her whole body was tense, muscles around her jaw working.

Alan lifted a third finger.

Parker pushed into her again and she bucked up against him.

"Qua...," she yelped. "Quantum!"

Alan all but laughed in delight. "Fingers out, handler." He waited for Parker to retreat, before he pressed the button again, longer this time.

He watched the pet thrash between them. "Quantum, huh? So our dear prospective did get into her pants, just not long enough for his taste." He clicked his tongue. "Those rich guys. Bunch of assholes, aren't they?"

Parker didn't reply.

Alan went to his knees in front of the pet, letting her have a good look at the remote in his hand. 238 stared up at him from wide, bloodshot eyes. "That word you just said, pet? You won't say it again."

She just sobbed in reply.

"Do you know why you said it?"

She shivered, and somewhere between it he spotted a tiny shake of her head.

"It was someone else's safe word. Someone you were before used it to say no. But you'll never say no again, 238, right? There's no use for a safe word, because you take what you owner chooses to give you."

She closed her eyes.

Alan's hand jerked forward as he slapped her across her face. "Say it."

"I..." Her voice was rough. "I will... I will take wha... what you give me."

"Yes, you will." He rose to a stand again and snapped his fingers. "Back up, pet. Position 35."

Her muscles were trembling as she pushed herself back onto her hands and knees, ass bare, shorts loose around her ankles.

Alan palmed himself through his uniform pants.

She was ready for stage 2.1.

And so was he.

#angels story #interrupting the danniversary #with new stuff #bbu #box babe #facility whump #whump #nsfwhump #pet whump #alan nguyen #tyler parker

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eldritch-spouse · 2 years

Note

🌼Hi Pinnie, so I read your post about the Admin dying (having his soul erased? I'm not sure how to refer) I like anguish sometimes but I'm extremely sentimental and I admit I like happy endings

So, I know it wouldn't be possible but supposing that Krulu hasn't erased it managed to "erase the Admin's soul" just kept it very far away in the bottom of the shell or rather, he erased it but somehow Admin has come back to life?

As if the Admin just woke up from a long and confused dream. Something like that, with the reaction of the Clergy (with Krulu too, but I don't think I need to put that)

It's ok if you don't want or can't write about it, and sorry for any English mistakes, google translator is messing up everything I write

Kisses from Brazil 💕💕💕🌼

I think the only plausible way that Krulu would commit a mistake while performing the death of self would be if such was done in a wrathful stupor. If you had truly done something to test his wits and forced him into a state of such mind-numbing rage that he didn't bother to iron out his treatment.

And fairy, I'm so very sorry to betray you like this, what if Admin did wake up... But wrong?

Finally, after months of darkness, months of faintly feeling your limbs move but never hearing anything, never thinking anything, as if you had been trapped in perpetual light slumber- You're finally able to see the world around you again, walk in your own skin, breathe with your previously static lungs. You are reborn, but you are not the same.

Some part of you did get erased. A core element of your soul. You are no longer the person you used to be, and such is seen whenever someone focuses on your behavior.

Your passion for the hobbies you once harbored is nonexistent, you seem uninterested in most things, capable of standing stock still for extended periods of time without issue, as if on standby. There are holes in your memory, sometimes you'll forget one of your coworkers' names and they'll die inside. You don't react to inside jokes, you don't bother to socialize with them unless directly pushed to, you don't even seem to be able to take care of yourself beyond basic hygiene.

But most of all, you're scared of sleeping. Because the small part of your identity that did survive the process is forever tainted by the primal terror of forced slumber, of helplessness, complete involuntary shutdown. You only ever catch tiny winks of sleep, always waking up with a startled scream or jump, clutching your own limbs in self-soothing gestures to prove to yourself that this is real, that you're still alive.

All their efforts to fix you seem like they do nothing but agitate you, sadden you. Because even if you can't tell what's different about yourself, even when they show you videos and photos of your previous lively person, you can clearly see the disappointment in their eyes, the pain, the loss. Sure you're alive, but you're not the Admin they knew, you're not the one they fell in love with.

You're a husk.

And that kills you inside more than they can imagine.

Krulu is arguably the one that suffers the most. Sometimes he ponders if he should really finish the job. You're living a mockery of a life, a parody of Admin's person. He can't love you the same way he did because the person he destroyed will never come back. You're a fragment, he broke the other pieces. At the same time that he knows it's not really you, the higher also can't let go- He's too selfish. Even if your eyes don't hold the determination and love they used to, even if you say you love him but it feels like a plea for your life, even when you cower and scream internally at his touch, when your mind is frigid and devoid of thought entirely...

He can't let go.

You'll never disobey again. But was the price really worth it?

#fairydaemon #ahahahhh sorry #I couldn't help it I had to make it worse #general tce #Krulu oc

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orime-stories · 1 year

Text

What Is Needed

Aurelle Silmontier - Final Fantasy XIV

(Heavensward Spoilers in Initial Blurb)

Aymeric attempts to process everything that happened at the Vault while launching himself straight into the work needed to fix things. With demands on his time and attention (and needs) in conflict, he struggles to settle on where his priorities should lie. Full story below the cut. (1406 words) Previous Story / Next Story / Read on AO3 / Tumblr Masterlist

After Aurelle had left, the space had quickly been filled with Handeloup, with Lucia, with Handeloup again, with various other men under his command. All looking for his leadership as the city scrambled to catch up with all that had happened in the day. Word spreading of his imprisonment and of the Archbishop��s sudden flight. Not in a thousand years had his nation found itself in such systemic, spiritual and emotional disarray. Never before had its current populace experienced such a monumental challenge to their faiths.

The roiling of his own heart, at least, found its rest in the familiar rhythms and routines of work. Gathering perspectives, assessing options. Identifying the points of issue and clarifying the steps required to resolve those issues swiftly and skillfully. Hushing the parts of himself that were not useful in the moment, like the involuntary twinge in his gut when he moved his shoulder too suddenly and memory spasmed through it. Breaking everything down into its constituent parts, eyes clear and unwavering on the course before him. On Ishgard’s survival and the safeguarding of its future.

Not that it hadn’t felt callous to remain firm on that course with Aurelle breaking into pieces before him. Presenting the battered fragments of her grief-rent heart in trembling hands, beseeching him for some measure of comfort on this day when so much had been so cruelly torn from her. He might at least have held to basic manners. Basic condolences and courtesies. Had he not been so afraid that were he to reach forward in comfort, he would have found himself clinging to her for the satisfaction of his own. He could not afford to fall to pieces, now of all times. Could not allow raw grief, personal sentiment, to steer his actions. He was the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights of Ishgard, and the people needed him now more than ever. He would not shirk from that duty. He would not.

The Knights that had not joined Lucia’s brazen rescue avoided his gaze as he moved through the halls, tension between those that had joined the fray and those that had not coiling thick enough around the Congregation to paralyse it entirely. Which is why one of his first orders of business was to draft a quick address for the men, to put that tension to rest lest it jeopardise all else the order would be called to do in the coming days.

“To those who stood by me, who honoured me with your trust and your loyalty during such an unprecedented test of all of our faith; words cannot express my gratitude and my appreciation. To those who did not, I only wish to say that I understand. ‘Tis much easier to believe a Lord Commander fallen to heresy than to believe that the head of our faith—the very heart of our city—could have betrayed us all. Would that the simpler tale were the true one. Would that my imprisonment had meant an end for the turmoil the city now finds itself in. But the turmoil rages on, and we Temple Knights have as our sacred charge to protect the people of this city from that turmoil. The Warrior of Light and the Azure Dragoon have joined forces once more to put a stop to the Archbishop’s reckless and tyrannical ambitions. And until we hear word of their success, ‘tis up to us to keep the peace in Ishgard. The people’s hearts and minds are in disarray. We must be their stability in this moment. Putting our trust in the heroes that stand with us, that the people might put their trust in us in turn…”

It was not until he was in his bed that night, distraction-less and alone, that worry and doubt returned to eviscerate him in full. To force him to dwell in his father’s cruel dismissal. In the helplessness and the shock…

The imprisonment he had anticipated, along with the possibility of a swift but terrible end. He was not naive to the way Ishgard conducted its justice, after all. But the beatings… He had not anticipated the callous joy that would be taken in them. Nor how easily his father would turn away from his suffering.

As he had pushed for the man to reconsider — pleaded, when it had come to that last fateful encounter on the rooftops — his desperation, his sincerity, the bond they were surely supposed to have shared… even in the face of all that, his father had cast him aside and turned away. Eyes for naught but the wretched path he had so committed himself to.

And then there was Aurelle. Poor, sweet Aurelle. The people she held dearest maimed and struck down before her very eyes. The inadequacy of his response to that surely only sharpening her pain. As he had turned away from her, eyes fixed on his own path.

Realisation pierced through him as a knife to his breast. The two wounds in his heart merging into one as he saw his father’s callous indifference writ plain on his own face, an inheritance that he wanted no part of. The thought that he might have failed Aurelle, might have hurt her so deeply in that same way…

Oh Fury, what had he done?

What had seemed a selflessness, a denying himself of a comfort in order to dedicate himself more fully to the oaths he had sworn, suddenly seemed to be naught but selfishness. A prioritisation of his own needs in weathering the turmoil over hers.

Anguished thoughts snapping in and out of focus, incompatible in their demands of him. That he bury his own pains and remain focused on the people under his care. That he seek out the woman he had come to care so dearly for and beg her forgiveness, offer to shoulder as much of her pain as she would trust him with.

He needed clarity.

And he quickly found it in the framing that had ever been his guide. Returning to the core of the matter that all else hinged on, he removed himself from the equation and asked;

What does Ishgard need, right in this moment?

His father’s madness brought to an end. The Warrior of Light to end it.

Everything rested on that Warrior now. And so it was his duty to do all in his power to see that Warrior succeed. A Warrior who had ever found her strength in the love and support of the people around her.

Cursing his shortcomings these past days, he climbed out of bed and padded his way through to the study, already drafting a letter in his mind.

—

Mistress Aurelle Silmontier,

Warrior of Light and most cherished friend.

I remember sitting down to write you a letter once before, as you prepared to confront the Lady Iceheart on behalf of my people despite our reticence to offer aught in the way of support against your own troubles. I remember the admiration I felt for you then, as I feel that admiration now a thousandfold.

I know that we ask much of you this time. Perhaps too much, in light of all that you have endured in our name. But we cannot hope to stand against this threat without your aid. So ask we must.

Ever have you placed the needs of Eorzea and its peoples before your own, and ever have we cherished you for it. Few could stand firm and squarely face the things you do. Fewer still could maintain your warmth and kind nature throughout such trials. You are a remarkable individual, deserving of all the gratitude and praise you inspire.

I know that I have not made things easy for you, or indeed for either of us, in recent days. And for that I can only apologise, and beg that you permit me the chance to better express myself the next time circumstances allow. The Congregation does not lend itself to undivided attention on my part, and there is much for us to talk about. Much I wish to say, if you would permit me that chance.

With everything that I am, I thank you. For all you have done. For all you are yet to do. For the dinners which have been a source of such brightness amongst these darkest of times.

I thank you.

May Halone watch over your journey and see you safely home to us.

Aymeric

#final fantasy xiv #heavensward #heavensward spoilers #aymeric de borel #oc: aurelle silmontier #aymeric x wol #opt out tag: grief #orime's stories

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omoghouls · 1 year

Note

Please do elaborate on Macready omo?? 👀 👀

*rubs my gay lil hands together* you have created this avalanche

•MacCready, mister gun for hire, he's learned how to control his bladder, keep it held in while he lays in the ruble of a building, staring down the scope, waiting for the perfect moment to shoot.

However, there are gigs where he was given an approximate time so, he's basically stuck in his sniper's nest while he waits until the guy rears his head.

And those are the times where his capabilities are tested. Because ofc he doesn't want to get up, it might alert the gang, he might miss the perfect opportunity to shoot, there are just too many negatives that outway the positive of voiding his bladder.

So,,,there has been times where MacCready had involuntary pissed himself while laying down- he couldn't conclude with his bladder screaming at him but, shit- there's the guy- MacCready steadies his rifle and takes the shot, killing the guy in one fatal shot.

Buuut that comes with the recoil of the gun, the after shocks catching his body off guard aaaand MacCready pisses himself while laying on his stomach- basically pissing over his upper body. He can't even bask in the humiliating relief as he's got to high-tail it the hell outta there before goons find out where he's at. (MacCready then takes the quickest dip in some river just so it looks like he's fallen in water rather than,,,wetting himself)

•After the events of Lucy's horrific death, MacCready had surcome to bedwetting. Sure, he's seen some awful shit, done awful shit but, watching your wife, the love of your life and mother to yalls son,,,that's a whole different type of horror.

Of course that's on the nights MacCready is actually sleeping for more than an hour at a time- for the first few months after Lucy's death, MacCready was so scared of something happening to Duncan.

So, MacCready would be staving off sleeping by downing coffee, which just future continues the viscous cycle of bed-wetting

• He's stubborn, dear god is he stubborn. This man will not admit he needs to piss unless it's an emergency and by then, he's already leaking or seconds away from pissing himself.

He's use to wandering the wastelands alone, when he has to go, he'd just, go. But, he's weary of others, as much as he trust Sole and company, MacCready still has horrible trust issues- he doesn't want to be literally stabbed in the back while taking a leak.

But he's also not the best at being subtle about his urgent need to pee- of course he thinks he is but,,,everyone can see him shifting from foot to foot while idle, more snappy in his come backs and, he's whining even though he doesn't realize it-

•This man is hella allergic to dust (he's constantly sneezing the moment he goes anywhere with even a remote amount of dust) so,,,,there have definitely been times where MacCready has had a really bad sneeze attack, causing him to be unable to stem the flow once his bladder gives out while he continues to sneeze 😌

•MacCready totally cries when he wets. He'll never admit to it- he doesn't full out sob, no, it's silent tears that burn his eyes as he tries in vain to blink them away before they have a chance to fall ;0;

•You cannot fuking tell me that while living in Little Lamplight, he was properly potty trained xD So, MacCready probably had to learn some extra stuff after he left lmao

•When he ran with the gunners, they 10000% fucked with him. They say it's initiation into the gunners as they give him some drink- turns out it's just a regular ass drink but, spiked with some very diuretic thing (Probably radaway bc/ that flushes out radiation)

And, he's given night guard duty. By himself. So, a couple hours into his shift, the need to pee hits him VERY hard. But, he has no one to cover him for a quick leak.

So, MacCready is sitting there, one hand shoved between his legs, grinding against his palm as the only means to hold back the flood- and the other gripping his gun as he tries so hard to keep a lookout.

Ofc, the gunners (Probably Winlock and Barnes-) sneak up on him and, quite literally scare the piss out of MacCready👀 And they tease him over it for days, taunts digging under his skin and MacCready just rolls his eyes, telling them to shut up but, internally, he's HELLA embarrassed-

#m #omorashi #omocute #fandomo #robert maccready

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uncaaj · 8 months

Text

Fanfic: Blade Runner Starring Donald Duck Chapter 4 - Voight-Kampff (DuckTales x Blade Runner)

READ NOW ON AO3!

The McDuck Corporation was easily recognizable from the air. It was the only place around that had any fire left, figuratively and literally. Columns of fire shot out from the pillars below, as much a part of 5Y manufacturing as the countless number of hapless souls working their lives away underneath. At the center of it all was a great dark pyramid, standing tall and true with a dollar sign etched into it bordered by orange light. If the fire stacks and winding pathways below were the veins of McDuck Corp, here was the heart. I set the spinner down on a platform near the pyramid’s summit, watching the breeze kick up stray particles on the pad.

McDuck’s office was a short elevator ride away. It was a huge place with hardly enough furniture to fill it properly. Columns with geometric ridges dotted the space all around. It looked as if it was split into four separate rooms based on the layouts in each of its corners. Overlooking it all was a massive window letting the golden light cast everything in a rich hue.

I saw a barn owl preening itself on a perch on the opposite side of the office, which intrigued me. They were supposed to be extinct. It jumped up and flew over to another perch across the span of a conference table under the window.

“Magnificent creature…” said Feth.

“Do you like our owl?” said a female voice, the owl’s head turning toward its source.

Me and Feth followed its gaze and shadowed in dim orange...she approached, dressed in black faux leather, walking to me with all the air of a dame who knew what her purpose was in life. A luxury that McDuck could no doubt afford.

“It’s artificial?” I asked. Of course, it was, but basic human decency dictated you ask anyway.

“Of course it is.”

“Must be expensive,” said Feth.

“Very. I’m Daisy.” She held out her hand.

I shook it. “Duckard. This is Feth.”

She nodded to him and Feth waved. She looked back at me. “It seems you feel our work is not a benefit to the public.”

“Replicants are like any ol’ machine,” I said, “they’re either a benefit or a hazard. If they’re a benefit, it’s not my problem.”

“May I ask you a personal question?”

I stuffed my hands in my coat pockets and leaned against the table. “Sure.”

“Have you ever retired a human by mistake?”

I had to pause to recollect all the dusty memories. “No,” I answered.

“But in your position, that’s a risk?”

It was, but the Voight-Kampff had been so highly tested that the older model replicants could be picked out like a cherry on a white tablecloth. 5Ys, on the other hand…

Before I could answer, another voice came upon us. “Is this ta be an empathy test? Capillary dilation of th’ so-called blush response? Fluctuation of the pupil? Involuntary dilation of the iris?”

Someone had clearly done their homework. “We call it Voight-Kampff for short,” I said to the older Scottish drake walking toward us, his intricately carved cane clunking on the floor every other step.

“Mr. Duckard?” said Daisy, “Dr. Eldon McDuck.”

The head honcho himself, dressed in a finely tailored black suit. Almost nobody could get an audience with the richest duck in our world, but here we were.

I held my hand out, and got that cane pointed at me instead. “Demonstrate it. I want tae see it work,” said McDuck.

I cleared my throat. “Where’s the subject?”

“I want tae see it work on a duck. I want tae see a negative before I provide you with a positive.”

“What’s that going to prove?” I asked.

He sniffed. “Indulge me, lad.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What, test it on you?”

“Try her,” he said, turning his head to Daisy.

I gave her a glance. She was pretty, unassuming. I shrugged. “It’s too bright in here.”

McDuck pressed a button on his cane. Nearly all the light was wiped from the window as a shade lowered dramatically over the opening. You know you’re rich when you can turn the searing sun on and off at your will.

Daisy sat down across from me, while McDuck retreated to the other side of the space. I unpacked the box and set it on the table. It was just like riding a bicycle, getting this old puppy running again. Her pupil shrunk in the frame, green iris piercing and mysterious.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” Daisy asked, already reaching into her bust.

“It won’t affect the test,” I replied. Satisfied, I sat down as she was lighting up a Lucky Strike. “All right, I’m gonna ask a series of questions. Just relax and answer them as simply as you can.” I turned to Feth, who had plopped himself in a chair next to me. “Watch and learn.”

I retrieved a sheet of paper and began. “It’s your birthday. Someone gives you a calfskin wallet.”

“I wouldn’t accept it,” she said. “I’d also report the person who gave it to me to the police.”

The gauge moved halfway to one end, the dial moving just as powerfully. The lowest intensity questions were always a revealing point to start on. I continued, “You've got a little boy. He shows you his butterfly collection plus the killing jar.”

“I’d take him to the doctor.”

Again, the gauges swung to one side but not as enthusiastically. “You're watching TV. Suddenly, you realize there's a wasp crawling on your arm.”

“I’d kill it.”

Same thing. Quick response too. “You're reading a magazine. You come across a full-page nude photo of a girl.”

“Is this testing whether I’m a replicant, or a lesbian, Mr. Duckard?” she asked. I couldn’t tell if she was offended or just genuinely curious.

“Just answer the question, toots. You show it to your husband. He likes it enough to hang it on his bedroom wall. The girl’s on a bearskin rug.”

“I wouldn’t let him.”

“Why not?”

“I should be enough for him.”

Fascinating. They don’t usually answer that way.

This continued on through hundreds of questions, hundreds of varied responses, each more telling than the last. At last, I had run out of questions to ask, except for one, at the bottom of the last page. “You're watching a stage play. It shows a banquet in progress. The guests are enjoying raw oysters.”

Daisy grimaced slightly. The needles moved accordingly. I continued. “The entree is boiled dog stuffed with rice.” The needles moved again, but less so. She didn’t say a word.

I was exhausted, both of questions and with this charade. I switched off the box and leaned back.

Eldon McDuck was walking over again. I didn’t know what to tell him. As if he read my mind, he turned to Daisy and said, “Would ye step out for a few moments, lass?”

She nodded, putting out her cigarette, and rose from her seat. We waited for her to make the journey well out of earshot.

McDuck was looking at me knowingly. What was going on? I met his eyes. “You wanna tell him, Feth?”

Feth gulped. “Um...she’s a replicant, isn’t she?”

McDuck cracked a slight smile. “I’m impressed, lad. How many questions does it usually take to spot ‘em?”

“I-I don’t get it, McDuck,” I said.

He rested his chin on his fist. “How many?”

“20 or 30, cross-referenced.”

His hands fell authoritatively to his sides. “It took more than a hundred for Daisy, didn’t it?” His eyes gleamed behind his Pince-Nez glasses.

“She doesn’t know?” I hissed.

McDuck looked toward the window. “She’s beginning to suspect, I think.”

“Suspect?” I balked. “How can it not know what it is?”

“Commerce, Duckard. That’s our goal here at McDuck Corporation. ‘More human than human’ is our motto. Daisy’s an experiment, nothing more.” He shuffled closer to me as I looked off past him, faint rays streaming in past the shade to illuminate the scientific mind of a generation. “We began to recognize in them some strange obsessions. After all, they are emotionally inexperienced, with only a few years tae store up the experiences which you and I take for granted. If we gift them the past, we create a cushion or pillow for their emotions, and consequently, we can control them better.”

“Memories,” I said, looking up to him. “You're talking about memories.”

McDuck tipped his hat to me.

I looked back to where Daisy had gone. Implanting memories...heaven only knew where they obtained memories from, and how they were extracted. It was an experiment, all right, one that had me thinking of an old movie with a guy with bolts in his head.

My stomach knotted up and my shoulders became heavy. This was the 5Y in action, and the fact that I was gonna have to retire four of ‘em had fully sunk in.

#ducktales #donald duck #fanfiction #disney ducks #duckverse #blade runner #fethry duck #scrooge mcduck #daisy duck #noir #crossover

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burning-sol · 1 year

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Well I can't find the post with the search function. I'll have to do digging around for it later... But I'm still very much obsessed with a timeloop au with Exandroth in the centre of it. There's so many things about Exandroth's narrative already that lends to it, I feel like it'd be really cool.

off topic a certain someone has brought up a rumi timeloop before which is great for its own reasons and you should chew on that thought but back to my post

Since that post didn't gain traction, I'm going to reiterate the story here. It's pretty simple.

Basically, in this au Peter and Exandroth don't die at the infamous episode 12 but instead manage to to pull themselves through the next trials alive and well alongside their companions. They get to the end and everything is fine and dandy until they reach the point where they gain access to godhood. And then the timeloop starts.

Exandroth is the only one who remembers the previous iterations. Many timeloop shenanigans ensue. He goes through events over and over but it's like godhood itself is adverse to the group; whenever they get close it's back to the start. Exandroth goes through a lot of theorising and different attempts... Even one time Exandroth attempted to play a good entity, thinking that maybe it was a test of character but it's sent back to the beginning again.

So one iteration, Exandroth decides to go solo. No Rumi, no Thanatos, just it and Peter going off to fight the pantheon themselves. Which is MUCH more difficult to do alone that with company, but Exandroth had gotten a lot better at thinking things through by now, as well as gotten better at coordinating with Peter, so they pulled themselves through by the skin of their teeth.

Exandroth had never tried to take godhood itself. It had always been a group thing. So what realisation having godly power unearthed, even just for a moment, was the realisation that Exandroth had meant to die.

It was cheated time. Exandroth had been the only one in the timeloop for no other reason than being an anomaly... SHE was the piece out of place. And that one spot Exandroth had walked past over and over again, that'd sent involuntary shiver down its spine. Yeah. It was the place where it was meant to die.

And it's not exactly FUN to realise that you're meant to die. Exandroth spends a LOT of time in denial or trying to find a way to avoid it. But obviously nothing works because the only thing that's going to turn time back to normal is if Exandroth plays the role it was meant to. And you can come to imagine how that ends up playing out.

Anyways, yes. Exandroth is already a character set to die normally so I think putting Exandroth in the centre of a time loop would be cool actually. I love a character doomed by the narrative. <333

#jrwi spoilers #jrwi apotheosis spoilers #📚 my posts #🖋️ writing #📌 thoughts #👁️‍🗨️ exandroth posting #just roll with it #jrwi apotheosis #jrwi exandroth #cw character death #tw character death

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greater-than-the-sword · 2 years

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Will women who miscarry be investigated/prosecuted for murder?

Serious answers only.

We have legal standards for a reason and its absurd to say that any woman who miscarried will have it investigated like it's a murder; infants are people and is that how we treat SIDS? Of course not. As a matter of fact, even SIDS is probably treated more strictly, since an autopsy on a miscarried fetus is unlikely to provide much useful information and so there is no reason to perform one. You'd have to have some kind of probable cause to bring charges against a woman, even if a self-induced abortion were illegal under current statutes. There would first of all have to be some kind of evidence that she was even pregnant to begin with; and a positive pregnancy test from before the miscarriage isn't good enough since anyone could obtain one of those, as we know; it's done all the time for pranks.

Literally it would have to be medically documented that she was pregnant even to satisfy this basic legal standard; and even then, there would be no reason to investigate unless there was some glaringly obvious smoking gun like a declaration of intent to commit an abortion or a witness. The state does not have the time or resources to file an investigation into every time a woman miscarries at 6 weeks. And furthermore the odds are so strongly in her defense virtually every time that it would be absurd to do in virtually any case. And besides this as well, don't even bring up the "manslaughter" argument, since a miscarriage is usually when the woman's body expels the fetus because it is dead, and obviously she has no choice in the matter.

The purpose of an involuntary manslaughter charge is to incentivise people to be more careful next time they drive a car or whatever. That logic does not hold for a miscarriage, as no amount of jail time could make sure that the inside of a woman's body is healthy enough to carry to term. Absolutely none of these scare scenarios hold up to any kind of legal analysis whatsoever and if they did our laws would change to accommodate women who have miscarriages because that's just common sense.

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justlookatthosesausages · 2 years

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HTBC 🌲 Chapter 10!

Chapter 10: To be human again

“Easy. Easy.” Smiled Honeymaren.

She wanted nothing more than to tackle her lover into a powerful hug, but she was following Sonya’s strong advice and helping Elsa sit up with slow gestures.

“Here, I made you some herbal tea.” Smiled the healer.

Honeymaren was the one who took the mug in her hand, however, for they had sadly discovered that Elsa was unable to make any move.

The Fifth Spirit was curled on herself and sulking in a traumatized posture. Honeymaren understood that the panic attack Elsa had when she had woken up still hadn’t left the blonde despite hers and Sonya’s soothing administrations.

When the blonde had found out that she truly didn’t have magic anymore, and that it wasn’t a nightmare she had in her coma, she screamed in the goahti, breaking Honeymaren’s heart in half.

Elsa’s breathing still was ragged, and her lover placed a hand above hers. The blonde immediately hissed, but it was involuntary, so the Northuldra retracted her hand right away.

“Sorry.”

“No, I am.” Muttered Elsa. “I just… They are very sensitive.”

Honeymaren nodded in pity. They had changed her to a Northuldra tunic when she was unconscious, and since she opened her eyes, everything she touched had an impact.

“Your whole skin is sensitive. It’s normal. It’s the first time that you don’t have magic coursing in your veins.” Assured Honeymaren.

She felt bad for stating the truth so bluntly, and her heart sank in her chest at Elsa’s tearful sigh.

“Anna is going to arrive soon. The Wind Spirit understood my worry and it’s very likely that she’ll basically swoop her up and bring her directly here through the air.” Reassured the brunette with a joking tone to make her lover smile.

She succeeded, for the blonde’s lips finally twitched up for the first time since she woke up, and Sonya and Honeymaren felt relieved to see her in that mood. Honeymaren blew on the mug of tea then brought it to Elsa’s lips, tilting it so she could drink, and her girlfriend jolted at the liquid. The brunette had good reflexes and tilted the mug back to not splash its content out.

“Gods, I didn’t– I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize, mitt lys.”

“No, it’s not just sensitivity… It’s so hot, I didn’t expect it.”

Honeymaren frowned, looking down at the mug on which she had blown, and eyed Sonya. The latter frowned too. She had prepared it while Elsa was still in her coma, and they had spent a long time calming her down, so it should be lukewarm by now… Honeymaren carefully brought it to her lips to test it, and indeed the tea was just warm, not hot. She was about to make that remark out loud, until she realized that it was because Elsa’s affinity with hot and cold had been completely disrupted.

“Yeah, it’s still very hot.” Lied the Northuldra, and she placed the mug aside.

Sonya was clever enough to not check after her.

“In the meantime, maybe we can talk?” Smiled Honeymaren. “Come on, I need you to tell me…”

She put a caring hand on the pelt that was above Elsa’s knee.

“…How do you feel?"

[Read more on FF] [Read more on AO3]

#htbc #healing the blooming crocus #yay angst fun!#btw this is totally how i see elsa reacting if it happens in canon #frozen 3 i am looking right at you #wdas #as well #frozen #frozen 2 #post frozen 2 #elsamaren #kristanna #tchoo tchoo here comes the powerless elsa feels train #fanfics #disney fanfictions

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