#uroboros update

[uroboros-if]

Chapter 1 Update is Here! ✦ DEMO

+10k words added to Chapter 1, bringing the total word count to 50k (with code)

More curt/unfriendly options towards mortals and other gods (Salvatore, parents, etc.)

More customization options, including new hair colors, eye colors, and distinctive features in Chapter 1

Multipronouns you can set in Chapter 1 (may change in future chapters)

Choice of clothes to wear to the Ceremony, which ROs may compliment if they like (3 out of 6 options for each of them!)

A new scene with your parents before the Ceremony where you can decide your relationship with them! (affects dialogue)

Option to storm off if you're mad at Ciocana, especially if you're touch-averse

Misc edits, bug fixes, and background performance improvements

This update is a massive improvement for new readers rather than warranting an entirely new playthrough. If you have any saves right before the Ceremony, you can find the most content there! However, the changes and additions are all over the demo.

... and Discord! ✦ Join here 🌿

My friend suggested I start one up! I hope to set up some events, share more sneak peeks, and connect with others more with this! 🫶💕 I also added some fun things like anonymous confessions and customizable color names, so please join! :)

(Very detailed changelog below if you're interested!)

Minor rewording for Karen encounter.

MC can now openly grimace when mortals call for MC's attention in Chapter 1. Previously, the only real negative reaction to them is turning away, which is open for any interpretation as to why MC does so.

When mortals ask for MC's help, MC can snap at them to speak quickly.

Most choices suggested you are friendly with Nero, so added a couple of options that are neutral towards him, leaning towards dismissive.

Rewrote a line that says you waved to Nero goodbye. It simply says that he departs.

Added an option to be frustrated with the conversation about mortals, when the only other non-positive options about mortals were about being completely disinterested.

Added an option where the MC says they can take care of themselves or they don't need other people worrying about them so much.

When choosing to be touch averse, selective, or not touch averse, you can now choose to be selective and not want to touch Rafaele, which initially was not an option.

If you are the Universal Eye, you tell Salvatore about the Universe being in pain and they dismiss it, you may be able to refuse conversation with them. They might keep talking to you, but you won't respond to them.

Can decide your relationship to your parents. Can also decide if you're open about your feelings towards them or not.

Variations in how your parents speak to you while preparing and during the Ceremony if they are aware of your bitterness towards them.

Can again openly express disdain for mortals or keep your feelings to yourself when answering Rafaele's question, when originally those options were absent

Can storm off from Ciocana if you do not express positive feelings about the dance, especially if you are touch-averse.

Added blue, pink, purple, and no hair options to Chapter 1, not available in the prologue.

Added red and gold eye colors to Chapter 1, not available in the prologue.

Added clothes option to Chapter 1 to wear to the Ceremony.

ROs will comment on your clothes if they particularly like it during the Ceremony (each have 3 out of 6 clothes they like.)

Added pronouns before the Ceremony. You can have multiple pronouns, remove them, and add multiple of the same kind to increase its chances of frequency.

Minor edits and bug fixes.

See you guys soon for the Chapter 2 update :)

[totchiiiiii]

[yuuugay]

simple luciel from @uroboros-if lineart to complete my list of stuff to draw this weekend sabfjkgfgsg

[anxietytwist]

𝐍𝐢𝐭𝐲𝐚, 𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝑊ℎ𝑜 𝐿𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝐹𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟

“𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑈𝑛𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑎𝑙 𝐸𝑦𝑒/𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔”

[ ∞ | 𝟻'𝟻" | Agender | Queer | 💝ꜰ!𝐂𝐢𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐚 ]

⧼Personality⧽

•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•

⧼Fashion⧽

ꜱᴛʏʟᴇ➺ Rococo inspired

•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•

⧼Notes⧽

ᴘʀᴏɴᴏᴜɴꜱ➺ They/Them ʙᴜɪʟᴅ➺ 𝐴𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒 ꜱᴋɪʟʟꜱ➺ Mysticism & knowledge ꜰᴀᴠᴇ ꜰʟᴏᴡᴇʀ➺ “𝐾𝑖𝑟𝑜 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑎𝑓𝑎”

Despite enjoying their role in 𝑳𝒖𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒐, they do wish they had more time to simply relax

They're touch-averse with strangers & only ENJOY contact with those they implicitly trust/care for 🙅‍♀️

𝐍𝐢𝐭𝐲𝐚 gets overwhelmed if there's too much stimulus around them

Even though they don't get much time to hang out, 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞 & they are still friends (though it is different from when they were “younger”)

Though they prefer to be femme-presenting most of the time, 𝐍𝐢𝐭𝐲𝐚 ONLY wants to be referred to with gender-neutral language

...

☼ 𝐍𝐢𝐭𝐲𝐚 means “𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠, 𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙” (Sanskrit) ☼

•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•

𝐼𝐹: @uroboros-if

•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•

W/ their dads™

Picrew used:

[itsgrimeytime]

The Nurse (Part Four) || Rick Grimes (TWD)

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

Taglist: @strnqer @1985bitch @curlycarley @imaginemyfavoritefics @t-uroboros @crazytxgradstudent @addisonnie @whos6claire @taylvvrr @quicksilversg1rl @catt-leya @1tsk1tty @pascalshearts @hopefulatrocity @xoyouronlyamorrxo @fuseburner @idkseraphine @all-for-kpop @carlgrimeskisser @emo-potato-virgil

Summary: Before all this, you were a nurse. A nurse who had patients, one of which was a man in a coma. A sheriff, you think, it was all kinda fuzzy now. When it all went sideways, you set up what you could for the man - but had to leave. You'd always wondered where he'd ended up; until in your search of shelter, you run into a familiar face.

TWS: Blood, gore, mentions of death, gun violence (just violence in general), swearing, angst, angsty!Rick, hallucinations, and all things typical of TWD.

[[A/N: Thank you all so much for the outpour of support :))), I hope I can do right by you guys and this story. I kind of have a plan, but we'll see where it goes. Thanks for reading, and enjoy! This one is based loosely off Rick's hallucinations of Lori, etc. A short update for the girlies (gn). Expect some slowburn soon :)]]

"Y/N?" Beth spoke as you shifted around -Judith tied tight to your chest in a makeshift carrier (out of sheets for a few of the extra cells) so you could still do the rounds. She was under your care until further notice because of a cough she'd seemed to gather from someone.

"Beth, hey," you answered, relaxing slightly at the unrushed tone of her voice -you'd been waiting for the emergency to come. The one where your hands would shake and your breath would quicken, but you'd still remember exactly what to do.

It was a relaxing feeling, your body knowing better than your head -the stress of a life on your hands would make them shake, but your brain wouldn't stop the function.

Then, you looked at her.

"Beth? What's wrong?"

She frowned, biting at her bottom lip and you could see the shine of tears in her eyes, "Daryl saw Rick standing aimlessly in the yard. He said he was crying-"

"Okay, okay," you spoke, placing your hands on her shoulders, "-calm down. Did he seem lucid?"

"I don't- I don't know," she stuttered out, her tone shaky and just... scared, "-Daryl said he was getting too close to the fence. I mean, he can't be-"

"Alright," you took a deep breath, hoping to get her to match it, "-let's get you and Judith to Maggie, okay? And I'll go check on Rick."

Your steps were quick with a purpose, and it felt distantly like your life before. Instead of concrete and barbed wire fences, it was white hallways and the squeak of tennis shoes. It was nostalgic, almost, but it was short-lived.

"Maggie," you spoke, hushed, "-can you keep an eye on these two? I've got to-"

"I know," she answered, hugging Judith to her chest - eyes a bit fallen and a shine of fear as bright as you'd seen it. Your eyes flickered to behind her, where the big blue eyes you'd found familiar looked at you - Carl.

You nodded with your lips sealed, knowing Rick would've rather this be private. No one wanted their issues so plastered as his were. With a sensitive structure as the apocalypse could only create, seeing their leader in this state could only do harm.

Your steps echoed through the halls along the concrete as you made your way to the courtyard - which was still fenced in, but if you got too close...

Your feet sped up.

Daryl was along the outskirts of the fence, and probably the least composed you'd ever seen him, hands messing through his hair and fidgeting along his clothes.

"He's just-" his voice faltered, just slightly, "-just starin'."

Sure enough, Rick was in the courtyard -eyes distant as he faced away from you to, into an empty corner. He looked purposeful, though; his stance curved forward as his head hung ever so slightly -like it was resting against something but there was thin air in front of him.

"No," you spoke, focusing on the hum you could hear, "-he's speaking too. Whispers."

"Whose he talkin' too?"

You started at the man, his open defeat, vulnerability, and the gentle whisper of his tone. He could trust them, or at least he had once. Just then, in the way the sun landed across the field, his wedding band glimmered.

"I think I know."

Daryl didn't say anything else as you stepped forward into the area, slow and precise. You carefully stepped among the grass -just to avoid startling him. It could only worsen what he'd been experiencing or what you assumed he was.

"Rick?" You questioned, so soft it was almost a whisper. The man didn't move an inch, head still tilted forward, and eyes trained ahead of himself. He stood a fair bit away from any oncoming walkers, so the danger wasn't immense. You could take this as slow as you needed.

"Rick?" You hummed again, gentle and barely a tone above the first one.

You were close enough to hear him now, his tone was quiet, but you could hear it -a desperate plea, "I'm sorry."

"Rick..." you whispered, as close as you felt he'd be comfortable with at the moment, "Rick, can you hear me?"

He didn't move toward you or move his head at the sound, yet he responded -tone just a hair above a whisper, gravelly and distraught, "Yes."

"Okay, good," you spoke in response, "-who are you talking to, Rick?"

You had an idea, but confirming it could only help. Assessing the situation calmly was the main key to talking someone down in any sort of situation -other than comfort and making sure no one was getting hurt.

"Lori," he spoke, not necessarily in response, but more so pleading, "-god, Lori, I'm so sorry. I couldn't- I didn't protect you and Carl."

He was gulping through air, breaths becoming shallower and the tears falling faster. Now, was the time to intervene, as the walkers stirred against the fences -thrashing and hopeless.

"Rick," you spoke, tone calm and settled, "-what's going on with Lori?"

"I just," he spoke, so quick after your question, you weren't sure it was an answer, "I just wanted to apologize. I could've-"

"Rick," you hummed, "-just breathe. Lori's not..."

"I know," he spoke, gravelly and direct. His tone was cold, and you felt a sort of unsettled chill down your spine, "-I know, she's not..."

He faltered off, eyes more lucid now -the fog you'd once seen not quite there now, but not exactly looking at you. His hands fidgeting at his sides, and his eyes stayed focused on the ground below him.

You didn't want to overstay or cross a boundary, so you stayed put. There was still an intimacy there, as you watched Rick curl into himself -hands moving at his eyes as if to wipe away tears that weren't there yet.

"Has Carl..." he started up, the whispery drawl low and almost... desperate, "-did he see me like this?"

"No," you answered, soft and reassured.

He laughed, a little bitterly, as he placed his head in his hands. His posture sinking, and his breaths becoming deeper -you stayed still, "Good."

You hummed, and your brain was distant with its constant worries, you felt your heart speak for a moment, "Rick?"

He spoke then, soft and quiet, barely a word. You took this as a notion to continue.

"I'm sorry. No one... no one deserves to have that pain. Especially you and Carl. You're-" you faltered, losing your words, "It's not your fault."

Rick stayed still, the hollow hum of his breaths being the only thing that really gave you the clue he was breathing. And you didn't even really know if he was listening, but you decided to take a chance on it.

"It'll be easier," you spoke, voice a little unsteady, "-eventually. I... I know."

He stayed quiet there, for a few more moments. The only noise was the distant wails of walkers, and the buzzing of some bugs around you. As you pushed on your heart, letting it seap through just to give someone comfort. You'd lost a lot, and you didn't think you'd ever talk about it. Not now, at least.

In your urge to comfort him, you'd joined him in the grass -almost unintentionally, you navigated to him. It was natural to you, comforting someone in a tough situation. Soft words, well wishes, hopeful promises.

Then, as your heart clenched in your chest and your eyes fogged up in just... grief, your hand was suddenly warmer than it had once been. Your eyes flicked to your hand in alarm, dispelling what had come on just before and-

There it was, he was holding your hand.

The gesture was innocent, really, a rock between the two of you -a sort of solidarity. The blades of grass under your fingertips just as grounding, but this was personal. An acknowledgement that despite not knowing each other that well... there was support there between the two of you.

With the shakiness of an inhaling breath, you murmured -just as low as the buzzing of the bugs, "Thank you."

Rick didn't respond, and he didn't really need to then. You understood enough.

[polarspaz]

InfectionRE AU

((A couple people wanted see an updated version of Chris’s design from the old Infection AU, so here ya go! While Leon/Chris is not the focus of the InfectionRE AU, you are still more than welcomed to ship this too!))

Driven to the brink of death by Chris, Wesker, in a rage, manages to infect Chris with a new Virus, a strain mixed of Uroboros and the T-Virus. It starts to mutate Chris immediately, who finds himself struggling against a fog of confusion and anger that is threatening to swallow his mind.

Despite this and the pain, Chris manages to use his new strength to finish Wesker off and get himself, Sheva, and Jill to safety.

The three radio for help, informing the B.S.A.A of Chris’s condition, who in turn radio the Government for help. While they wait, Chris’s mind slips further and further, and his muscles begin to quiver again with danger of further mutation as the hours creep on.

Suddenly Jill and Sheva find themselves fighting against Chris, who manages to snatch Jill in his clawed hand and clenches his fingers, trying to squeeze her to death. Before he’s able to break any ribs, a heavy weight slams into his back and he lets go of Jill, who tumbles away alive, but winded

A thick needle is slammed into Chris’s neck as is manhandled into the ground by Leon, who just arrived. Chris is knocked out and Leon is able to drag the man onto to plane with the others and get them back to the lab.

There, Luis is able to figure out a short term solution for Chris in the form of daily pills. These pills stop Chris from further mutating or from losing control, but he has to take them, if not, Leon is the only one who is able to wrestle him down and stop him.

((If you wondering about the knife-shaped nail Leon has, it only grows that when he’s engaged in a physical fight. After the fight if over, the nail falls out and a normal one grows back in it’s place.))

[2nd-toughest-in-the-infants]

Uroboros (WIP) on itch.io Review

@uroboros-if

Characters: ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Plot: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Choice: ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Writing: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Replayability: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Overall: 3.8/5

Pros: Angst 😁, well-written, smooth interface, lovely supporting characters

Cons: short demo, not the fastest updating WIP, so far not much romance

**SLIGHT SPOILERS**

Notes:

So, for me this was a great one to revisit for a first review on this blog because it was actually one of the first WIPs I played on Itch.io and boy did it set the standard. It’s also one I’ve revisited a few times and is deefinitely on my list of most anticipated WIPs.

As I understand it, you are born into a kind of mount olympus-esque realm and play as the deity of eternity which, in a rather cruel twist of fate, makes you essentially powerless as of course, nothing lasts forever. This is a rather nice spin on the typical gods/mythology IF MC and also gives us the opportunity to play a super angsty MC (which I love). Also a big fan of the in depth character customisation you can do.

There are also a handful of (gender selectable) ROs which so far have great potential and can have some really interesting interactions with MC BUT unfortunately the demo is still pretty short so romance with the RO’s is still quite limited. I have to say though, that the lack of romance (so far) hasn’t really bothered me as I am in love with MC’s parents and they way they act towards them is just so wholesome and such a refreshing departure from the usual tragic home life trope and also provides a really nice respite from the (at times cruel) way MC’s world treats them because of their situation.

Another thing I’d like to add, is that in general, it’s just a really beautiful game, which I know seems odd to write about a text based game but I think that the attention to detail in the UI along with the high quality writing really makes for an immersive experience and that in and of itself makes the game worth checking out.

[fallen-if]

Do you have any IF recommendations?

My time has come. Everyone listen as I grant you with the knowledge of all my favorite IFs…

Gotta start strong with Uroboros by @uroboros-if . It’s a fantastic IF with amazing worldbuilding and characters. I could not recommend it enough.

Mind Blind by @mindblindbard is another great recommendation. Honestly it’s one of the IFs that got me interested in actually following the authors and community actively.

The Night Market by @night-market-if. Another one with fantastic worldbuilding and characters - I would recommend a million times if I could.

The Exile by @exilethegame. It’s a classic for a reason! The ROs and worldbuilding literally keep my eyes glued to the page every time I play through it.

Infamous by @infamous-if. I’m usually not a fan of this genre but this IF has me absolutely hooked. It kinda gives me Daisy Jones and the Six vibes (which is a book I absolutely adore).

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: Affair of the heart by @doriana-gray-games. One of the BEST IFs I’ve had the honor of reading. It fantastic and a good read even if you aren’t into Sherlock Holmes stories.

Emberwood by @emberwood-if. It’s fantastic - the characters are intriguing, the plot is attention grabbing and it reminds me of the X-men which is a huge plus!

The Voice of Silverking by @lilac-den. Vigilante shit? Robot sidekick/caretaker? Sign me the hell up!

Next in Line by @nextinline-if. Fantastic, wonderful, 10/10, would recommend a million times. It’s a genuinely wonderful story!

Defiled Hearts: The Barbarian by @defiledheartsblog. This is my guilty pleasure read. It has the best “enemies to lovers” I’ve seen in an IF.

Fields of Asphodel by @chrysanthemumgames. Genuinely one of the best pieces of fiction (interactive or not) that I’ve read so far. I’ve spent literal hours playing it every time it updates!

Of course this isn’t all the IFs I read but these are definitely my favs that I keep coming back to!

[carawenfiction]

Will we have an update soon?

Tumblr won't let me make normal posts for some reason, so the update will have to be in form of an answer to this ask smh. Anyway:

Hey everyone!

This post is long overdue, I know. I’m really sorry to those who have been worried about my wellbeing, as well as those who have been waiting around for an update for so long.

I’ve put off writing here because this “update” is something I’ve been wrestling with for a long time. But I can’t keep going back and forth on it forever, which is why I’m now letting you all know that the Shadow Society is officially discontinued.

I know that this might not come as much of a surprise to anyone at this point. I’ve tried to salvage the story by remaking it into something I’m happy with through a rewrite. But I’ve rewritten the rewrite itself more than once, and no matter what I do, I’m just not happy with the result. Rewriting something that’s already published with all the coding it involves is a lot more tricky than I initially thought it would be.

This is not a case of me being needlessly harsh on myself, however; it’s simply a truth I’ve come to realize after struggling to find a way to keep going with the story. I’ll never be fully content with it, or even content enough, unless I’d be able to completely remake and rewrite everything from scratch – and consequentially, I will never find enough motivation to continue because of how unhappy I am with it.

I’ve seen some speculation about my reason for rewriting the story and my long absence, and that they’ve had to do with comparisons to other IFs (well, you know which one). This isn’t entirely the case. While the comparisons did happen and probably still do, and while they were discouraging in the beginning, I can definitely understand where people have been coming from when making them. I talked about this more in-depth in the forums right after the release of TSS.

The main reason for why I can’t continue is that it’s not a series I feel passionate enough about to work on. My tastes have changed, and so has my writing to some degree. I’ve tried to convince myself that I am passionate about it. It’s hard to admit that you’re not when it’s been in your head for so long, when you’ve tried for so long to make this work and when you know that one part is published and that some people are anticipating a continuation. But it had to be done sooner or later.

Other reasons:

-While I don’t think that my writing style has changed drastically, I feel like it is somewhat different from how I wrote back in 2018 (which is a GOOD thing). Whenever I tried working on the rewrite or second book and attempted to emulate the writing of TSS, it just didn’t sound right anymore, and that took a lot of fun out of it.

-With everything that has happened with CoG over the past few years, they are no longer a company I want to write for.

Please know that none of this has discouraged me from writing in general. I still love doing it. If anything, this has taught me a lot about what I actually want to write and the writing process in general. Whether I end up publishing anything else in the future or will simply do so for my own enjoyment we’ll just have to see, though.

I still have the idea of a shadow-like world in my head, and maybe it’s one I will revisit at some point. Maybe there will be another version of TSS someday, albeit very different from the original one.

But for now, I can only thank you all for the overwhelming love and support over the years, and apologize for any disappointment this has caused. If people are interested, I’d be happy to share parts of the rewrite and unused ideas. The Tumblr page will still stay up at least for some time, but I will probably not be answering any asks from here on out.

EDIT: Forgot to add, but if anyone wants a genuinely amazing IF read you should check out my friend's wip here: https://uroboros-if.tumblr.com/ ❤️ Play the demo here: https://mistyriousness.itch.io/uroboros

[wil-o-wispy]

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

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

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

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

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

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

w/c: 7.1k

1 Year Later:

Don’t puke. Don’t puke. Don’t puke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You know better.

His interest is much more personal than that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No witnesses. That’s never good.

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

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

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

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

Huh. How’d that happen?

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

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

Help the stranger it is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure thing.”

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

“So… you’re the hot shot scientist.”

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

“That depends… who’s asking?”

“Name’s Jake.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know the periodic table?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m consulting.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Give me a rundown of the G-Virus.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mind taking a crack at this Doc?”

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

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

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

“So you can solve it.”

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

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

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

“But his name’s Pierre. You sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stop walking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where you headed?” You call after him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Use this.”

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

He’s holding a lighter.

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

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

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

You scan the card.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

__________________________________

Thanks for reading!

Tag List: @killerwendigo

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

[l0sercat]

wesker for the nsfw alphabet plss

Y'all the amount of requests I have rn are crazy and I'm so fucking tired so I'm going to be slow to update and just do he asks I feel like doing so I dnt burn out. Hope y'all understand :')

Albert Wesker NSFW alphabet

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

There is aftercare if he has been rough. He will prepare a bath and get you whatever you need.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves his eyes. They are just so cool and makes his look intimidating. And they always seem to make you shiver when they pierce you. He loves you ass. That's all I need to say.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He doesn't like messes so he prefers to cum in you. Also because he wants to breed you..

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

You came to his work wearing a small skirt and it got him really distracted and hard. So when you left and he could slip away he jerked off. The image of you in that short tight skirt plagued his mind and he moaned our your name.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Hardly has experience but what he lacks in experience he makes up in confidence.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Cowgirl but he's still dominant. Or doggy style. I can't pick 😮‍💨

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He more serious. What's so funny about sex?

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

It's all nice and trimmed. What else did you expect a bush? No not from this god. Nothing is messy or sloppy. It perfect.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He can be romantic. It usually is but sometimes it's not. He can be really sweet and gentle. It's kinda rare.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He hardly masturbates he just doesn't feel the need to.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He likes gags. Especially gag rings.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

The bedroom. You guys have privacy and it's easier to breed you.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing you all dolled up for him. Seeing you in your best clothing and hanging onto his arm it's gets him going.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Share you. You are his and his alone.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He prefers to give. He just loves tasting you and having your juices coat his face.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

It's depends. Most of the time the speed is n between fast and slow.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He doesn't really like them. You don't have them that often. He prefers proper sex so he can properly breed you.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He doesn't take a lot of risks and he's okay to experiment as long as it's not too risky or bad.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He can last for hours. With uroboros he has so much stamina.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He does not own toys he doesn't need to. He will never bring the into the bedroom. He has himself and his tentacles so toys are not needed.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He likes to tease but doesn't do it a lot

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He grunts a lot and here and there he moans. If your sucking him off and catch him off guard he'll whine.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He likes to be edged. Idk why but I feel like he'd just love you to tease him back and try to take control.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He's 8 inches long and 3 inches thick.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It's not that high. But when he's horny oh boy...

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He waits till you fall asleep then he'll fall asleep a little after.

[uroboros-if]

Small Update

Hello, just checking in again. 🩷

I'm happy to announce that I've successfully completed NaNoWriMo for my side project, which I'm super happy about. It really helped improved my confidence as a writer in proving that I am capable of staying consistent and productive, in spite of my less than typical neurology battling against me!

It has inspired me to set a goal of writing to contribute towards a goal. Maybe 10-25k would be a good start monthly instead of the hectic 50k, but I think it'll be a great relaxed pace for writing the IF!

On a very side note, it's also my birthday! 🎂

December will be extremely hectic as my work gets intense for the holiday season, and I will also be traveling continents to visit family. I hope to squeeze in some time to write, though. Again, maybe I'll set a goal so that I'll feel compelled to write even when I'm busy! But hopefully when work dies down, I can get some peace and go back to pulling all-nighters purely for entertainment.

Thank you so much for being incredibly patient about the development of Uroboros. I'm so excited to get back into it, and I'm glad I took a break because I'm massively inspired and ecstatic to return to it!!

- Misty

[ummmmandy]

Thank you so much for recommending those IFs because I have been brain rotting for the past five days. Are there any others that you like? The only one I’ve read aside from your recs is CTOS and I’ve finished them all, so I’m hungry for more

under the cut i guess cause this might be annoyingly long

this question is so dangerous actually, if I wrote all the ones I've read that I liked down it'd be a list a million years long

first, just the @interact-if tumblr is great if you don't already know about that, there's a lotta lists and resources for like..everything there, so you can go dig through that ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I'm just gonna throw a few things out there I can think of I guess cause idk where to even begin

--handful of completed games that are good -

Night Market

Fallen Hero Rebirth & Retribution

The Passenger

Blood Moon

The Fernweh Saga

The Golden Rose

(there are more of course…..)

--WIPS that are good (that I could recall off the top of my head or remembered to actually follow the project somewhere so I wouldn't forget about it, there are manymanymanyyyy more than these too)

Greenwarden

The Northern Passage

The Bastard of Camelot (love games that give me the option to burst into tears at every opportunity)

Mind Blind

Body Count

Checkmate In Three Moves

Project Hadea

Attollo

Adoriel's Tears

Sentience

The Gray Ascendancy

Uroboros

REMEMBER, YOU WILL DIE (looking at this, it's gonna have a new demo link soon it seems??)

Idk if there's a way to play the demo atm, but Larkin is also very good. (Vampire Western. Need I say more.)

& I don't know if this one will ever get updated but I still think about it sometimes and I think it's the only IF that ever made me cry forreal, like if The Velveteen Rabbit gets you this will get you, honorable mention for that reason,

The Cain Foundation

[stars-captain]

— Wesker | The Silent Sys ☆

— He/him | 23 | 18+ Only

— ♡ Horror, video games, science, queer history, & @sundybundy

— PFP art by: @june-buggies | Updated 4/29

Lifelong writer through both passion and career. STARS captain. Pianist. Affinity for hard cheeses. Choleric & INTJ & 5w6. Fictive.

Intersex, trans, & bisexual. Taking weekly Uroboros (testosterone) injections starting 4/20/24.

Alters will post to this blog frequently and will tag their posts accordingly. Collectively, we are The Silent System.

We don't often tag triggers but will gladly do so upon request; just ask.

[randomfandomdreaming]

Headcanons About DBD Killers Based On Their Lore and Play Style

This will be updated as I come up with them and as I get more Killers in the game.

The Trapper

You would never leave a trial with him alive.

Takes the Obsession very seriously, leaving them for last.

If you last long enough to have hatch spawn and the ability to open a gate at the same time, know that he’ll close hatch and come looking for you.

Seriously, you’d never leave his trials alive. Never.

The Wraith

Would really be a 50/50 on if you lived or died in his trials.

Would kill you if you blind/burn him. (Please don’t blind this man. He’s terrified of fire and being burned, and blinding him burns him. Please just let my boi exist.)

Might let you live even if you stun him with a pallet, especially if he was cloaked, depending on how well you countered his efforts.

The Hillbilly

If you showed this man kindness, he wouldn’t know how to react. Seriously. This poor man doesn’t even have a name thanks to shitty parents. They bricked him into a room and fed him through a hole.

Would be hard to get close enough to even try to talk to him because of that chainsaw. His cattle hammer doesn’t help either.

This man might cry if you show him kindness.

The Shape

There’s one generator left, he has a Fragrant Lock of Hair and Tombstone, and he just got Evil Within III.

No one leaves alive. He ensures it.

All four of you are getting choked and stabbed in the stomach, I don’t make the rules.

The Legion

Frank would kill you, but not before he makes you bleed for fun.

Julie would be right there helping him.

Joey would kill you. After he got done showing off how well he can chain Feral Frenzy.

Susie might just fuck off and leave you alone. She doesn’t want to be here either, man. Please leave this poor girl alone. She didn’t even want to be a part of this to begin with.

The Ghost Face

You wouldn’t know he was there until he pulls you off the generator.

Don’t count on getting out alive.

Brought an Ebony Momento Mori so he can fill up his camera’s roll of film, and he will get all four photos.

The Mastermind

No one gets out alive. Ever. This man is merciless.

Will hit you on hook just for fun. Will probably also camp you if you pissed him off. So, seriously, don’t stun/blind him unless you want to be left on hook.

Will take full advantage of Uroboros. Use the First Aid Spray if you dare.

He brought an Ebony Momento Mori. And he doesn’t miss.

This man is a literal god. What do you expect?

[manufactoredxbyxdesign]

[Carrd has been updated, but a summary of the verses is under the cut.]

Uroboros was stronger than he had anticipated. Stronger, in fact, than anyone could have realized. In the wake of his fiery conflict with Chris, Wesker emerged from the ruins damaged permanently and nearly on the doorstep of death. How he survived he accredits to his own strength, though perhaps it had more to do with luck. 

After recovering from the extensive burns sustained in the fight, he assumed an anonymous existence. Learning from his previous actions in order to keep himself under the radar of those who would’ve sought to bring him into custody. 

Stripped of all his former contacts and influence, Wesker remains a permanent fugitive. Constantly on the run in order to avoid re-discovery. 

(From The Ashes is Wesker's Post-Resident Evil 5 verse. It is canon divergent in the sense that he lives after his final fight with Chris, Jill, and Sheva. Because of the mutation caused by Uroboros he has suffered extensive damage to his body and remains a fugitive to avoid being rediscovered.)

There is little information on record about the day he re-appeared. Though reports taken from eyewitnesses seemed to suggest that he emerged from a dark fog that had plagued the coast for weeks. Originally declared a John Doe - the man recovered remained completely uncooperative towards anyone who spoke with him. It was only later through DNA analysis that he was formally discovered to be Albert Wesker - formally Captain Wesker of the S.T.A.R’s turned Tricell researcher. A man who had - according to all public records - been classified as legally deceased for nearly two decades already.

Everyone was baffled. 

How had Albert survived undetected for so many years? What had caused him to reemerge suddenly in a location so far from his original location? 

The answer only seemed to leave more questions. 

After undergoing extensive medical observation, the former S.T.A.R’s began to reveal bizarre information. Extensively talking about a black fog - and a mysterious realm where monsters and humans alike were made to fight and kill each other. 

Despite a previous history of being uncooperative and malicious - Wesker allowed himself to be taken into custody by the BSAA, who sought to confirm his identity and the status of the fearsome Uroboros virus he had been infected with just prior to his death. 

Now firmly under their custody, he remains a subject of interest. Both to the people once affected by his actions, and those seeking to resolve the mystery of his survival. 

(Out of The Fog is Wesker’s post-Dead By Daylight verse in which he has escaped from the clutches of The Entity and returned to his previous world. Nearly 15 years have passed since his untimely death and despite research conducted on him reaffirming his claims of being “frozen in time” he is considered a subject of unresolved mystery.)