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wil-o-wispy · 3 months

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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.

#resident evil fanfiction #jake muller #resident evil 6 #resident evil 6 spoilers #chris redfield x reader #not in this chapter though because PLOT #fanfiction #slow burn #no beta we die like men #The Wife the Lover and the Bastard Son

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amphibious-thing · 1 year

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Nothing puts the arbitrary nature of gender roles in perspective like historical gender roles. For example in the 18th century umbrellas were considered feminine and men who used them were characterised as effeminate and foppish. In the 1780s as umbrellas became more popular amongst men there was a cultural pushback to the perceived gender transgression. On the 16th of August 1780 the Morning Post complains of of the “canopy of umbrellas” bemoaning that “the effeminacy of the men, inclines them to adopt this necessary appendage of female convenience”. On the 4th of October 1784 a letter to the Morning Chronicle goes on a tirade against men using umbrellas:

Sir, Fashion, or custom, stamps an authoritative power on every absurdity, otherwise by what right do men establish the several inconveniences, which are daily felt by all who wish to pass unmolested in the public streets. If any one is so ridiculous as to make a dead stop in the common path, and gape about like a country lout, the frequent gibes and jolts, which are the common consequents of such misconduct, will in little time enliven the understating; but what shall we say to evils which are unavoidable to the most attentive and alert? Of this kind is that vile foppish practice of sheltering under a umbrella, and moving forward with such momentum, as might very quickly scoop out an eye, draw a tooth, or detach an ear, were those parts to be opposed to the severe stroke of one of those fantastic instruments. That the ladies should be allowed to secure their beauty and persons from the heat of the sun, or the inclemency of the weather, every one is too much interested to deny; it is natural, and has a striking effect. Besides the base of the hoop, and a decent respect, keeps us at an awful distance, and prevents any ill to those who are so happy as to meet them; not to mention the peculiar adroitness with which they manage both superior and inferior shades. But to see a great lubberly cit, bounce from his shop, with a coat, hat, and wig that are not together worth one groat, with a bloated ruddy countenance, which bespeaks him to have guttled like a hog, shelter his heavy [illegible] from the influence of the solar beam, is intolerable. Let him be stationary under cover of the shade of his shop window. The macaroni being of the doubtful gender, may in part claim a feminine right; his dress is too delicate to bear an heavy shower, perhaps his person is so too; but a coach, if a clean one is to be found would serve his purpose much better, as there would be less likelihood of his being washed away into the kennel, which he deserves to be kicked into for his d-----d affectation.

Upon the whole, let me tell you, this is a vain and dangerous custom- For the safety, therefore, of his Majesty’s liege subjects, who sensibly fence themselves with a good beaver and surtoot upon necessary occasions, let it be enacted, that the Levitical Law be put in full force in case of injury done to any party, viz. “an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,” &c. if the face should be scratched or torn, let the Coventry Act be in full force; but as prevention is preferable to penalty, be it also enacted, that all such male animals as use these unhandy instruments be drove off the foot path into the streetway, and that their umbrellas be left to the mercy of the hackney coachmen.

#fellas is it gay to shelter oneself from the rain?#macaroni

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ellenblogs-blog · 1 year

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Hi, I saw your post about Oswald Cobblepot and decided to ask. Can I ask for the second part of the headcannons for the penguin Btas? I know he's not on your character list and sorry to bother you

A/n: No problem really. I like to write for Btas penguin and if you have any more requests, please contact. I will write for him as a small exception.

Oswald likes to quote writers, especially Shakespeare, his great love for classical literature gave him the opportunity to know many great quotes and phrases at any moment of his life. Oz quotes them for you. You're the only person who finds it more endearing than weird. Not everyone can praise you with a quote

Oswald would probably give you a bird for your birthday. He takes it very seriously, as he does everything. But he wants the bird to become not only a gift, but also your friend. He starts talking about birds and asks which breed you like more. Therefore, you may be surprised or not when you have a bird in your pet.

Oh, don't forget that Oz is a passionate ornithologist, he not only finished his education on them for the sake of a tick, he sincerely loves birds, after all, they were his only childhood friends. He likes to tell you about the birds that you met on the street or that you are asking to tell you about. In the evening, when you are at home, it can turn into a real lecture. You swear that you have never seen a person so passionate about anything, joyful eyes and a wide smile are all you need for happiness

You will have your own personal umbrella. Yes, the same modified umbrella that he always carries with him. To protect himself, he knows that the streets of Gotham are not as safe as he would like, and if he is not around, he would like you to be able to protect yourself. But! Do not forget about the original function of the umbrella, it will protect you from rain and bright sun! A convenient thing.

He knows how to cook simple dishes, but does not do it so often. He cooked with his mother as a child and knows a couple of recipes and to your surprise they are not so bad. But if you want to cook something new with it, please do it together. Not because he wants to do a lot of things together with you, but it also makes him feel needed and loved.

#oswald cobblepot x reader #Oswald cobblepot #penguin x reader #Penguin #Batman animated series #btas #btas oswald cobblepot

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 11 months

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By: Leor Sapir

Published: Jun 28, 2023

A growing number of countries, including some of the most progressive in Europe, are rejecting the U.S. “gender-affirming” model of care for transgender-identified youth. These countries have adopted a far more restrictive and cautious approach, one that prioritizes psychotherapy and reserves hormonal interventions for extreme cases.

In stark contrast to groups like the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP), which urges clinicians to “affirm” their patient’s identity irrespective of circumstance and regards alternatives to an affirm-early/affirm-only approach “conversion therapy,” European health authorities are recommending exploratory therapy to discern why teens are rejecting their bodies and whether less invasive treatments may help.

If implemented in American clinics, the European approach would effectively deny puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones to most adolescents who are receiving these drugs today. Unlike in the U.S., in Europe surgeries are generally off the table before adulthood.

Why are more countries turning their backs on what American medical associations, most Democrats and the American Civil Liberties Union call “medically necessary” and “life-saving” care? The answer is that Europeans are following principles of evidence-based medicine (EBM), while Americans are not.

A bedrock principle of EBM is that medical recommendations should be grounded in the best available research. EBM recognizes a hierarchy of information. The expert opinion of doctors, for example, even when based on extensive clinical experience, furnishes the lowest quality — meaning, least reliable — information. Slightly higher on the information pyramid are observational studies. Systematic reviews of evidence, meanwhile, furnish the highest quality evidence. They follow a rigorously developed, reproducible methodology. They do not cherry-pick studies with convenient results, but instead consider all the available research.

Most importantly, systematic reviews don’t merely summarize the conclusions of available studies on a question of interest. Instead, they assess the strengths and weaknesses of these studies to determine the reliability of their findings. To do this, systematic reviews typically use the GRADE system (Grading of Recommendations, Assessment, Development and Evaluations) and rank the quality of evidence as “high,” “moderate,” “low” or “very low.”

Systematic reviews by EBM experts in Scandinavia and the United Kingdom have concluded that there are serious gaps in the evidence base for sex modification in minors. The U.K. systematic reviews found the available research to be of “very low” quality — meaning that there is very low certainty that an observed effect, like reduced suicidality, is due to the intervention, and therefore the studies’ claimed results are unlikely to represent the truth.

Importantly, even the famous Dutch study that is said to be the “gold standard” of research in this area received a rating of “very low” due to serious methodological problems. Sweden’s National Board of Health and Welfare has said that the risks of treating gender dysphoric minors with hormonal interventions “currently outweigh the possible benefits.”

Last year, Florida’s health authorities commissioned what is known as an “umbrella review,” or a systematic overview of systematic reviews, from independent experts at McMaster University, home of EBM. Unsurprisingly, that overview came to the same conclusion: There is no reliable evidence that youth transition improves mental health outcomes.

Because U.S. medical groups don’t always use EBM, their conclusions can be based on studies whose fatal flaws are overlooked or ignored. Consider, as an example, a study done at Seattle Children’s Hospital and published last year. The study’s authors reported that use of puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones was associated with 60 percent lower odds of depression and 73 percent lower odds of suicidality. Leading mainstream publications, including Scientific American and Psychology Today, celebrated the findings. More recently, major U.S. medical associations cited the study in federal court proceedings.

But a careful look at the study’s data shows that the kids who received hormonal interventions did no better by the end of the study than at the beginning. The researchers’ claim about improvement was based on the fact that the kids in the control group, who received psychotherapy but not hormones, got worse relative to the hormone group. But even this isn’t accurate, as 80 percent of the control group dropped out by the end of the study, and a likely reason for this dramatic loss to follow-up is that many or perhaps all of the non-hormone-treated kids improved without “gender-affirming” drugs. It’s quite possible that if the researchers had followed up with all the participants, we’d see this study become Exhibit A in the case against pediatric sex changes.

Similar problems exist in studies purporting to show a rate of transition regret of less than 1 percent. The true rate of regret is not known and won’t be known for years to come. The claim that gender dysphoric teens are at high risk of suicide if not given access to “gender-affirming” drugs and surgeries is likewise baseless and irresponsible. In February, Finland’s top expert in gender medicine emphasized this point to the country’s liberal newspaper of record.

The American Academy of Pediatrics’ main statement on gender medicine, authored by a single doctor while still in his residency, is not a systematic review. The author himself has conceded as much. A later published peer-reviewed fact check found the AAP statement to be a textbook example of cherry-picking and mischaracterization of evidence.

The World Professional Association of Transgender Health (WPATH) says in its latest “standards of care” that a systematic review of evidence is “not possible.” Instead, WPATH used a “narrative review,” which has a high risk of bias according to EBM because it doesn’t utilize a reproducible methodology. England has broken from WPATH, and the director of Belgium’s Center for Evidence-Based Medicine has said he would “toss them [WPATH’s guidelines] in the bin.” In the U.S., WPATH’s standards are widely accepted as authoritative.

The U.S. Endocrine Society has relied on two systematic reviews in developing its own guideline. But these reviews were not for mental health benefits, and in any case the Endocrine Society ranks the quality of evidence behind its own recommendations as “low” or “very low.”

All other U.S. medical groups cite these three sources when assuring the public about “gender-affirming care,” thus creating an illusion of consensus around “settled science.”

Earlier this year, an investigative report in the prestigious British Medical Journal concluded that although pediatric gender medicine in the U.S. is “consensus-based,” it is not “evidence-based.” Gordon Guyatt, distinguished professor in the Department of Health Research Methods, Evidence, and Impact at McMaster University, Ontario, and one of the founders of EBM, recently called American guidelines for managing youth gender dysphoria “untrustworthy.”

Consensus can be produced by misguided empathy, ideological capture or political pressures. Consensus can also be manufactured. The new president of the American Medical Association (AMA) has said there should be “no debate” when it comes to offering kids “gender-affirming” drugs and surgeries.

Yale School of Medicine’s Dr. Meredithe McNamara calls the questioning of the evidence behind pediatric sex changes “science denialism.” Her protest is ironic. Science is a process of ongoing inquiry and debate, not a set of predetermined conclusions. Science depends on skepticism, especially about sensitive subjects. True science denialism means restricting rational, evidence-based debate — exactly what McNamara and the AMA’s new president want to do.

Their calls are bearing fruit. Just this month, gender activists successfully pressured a medical journal to retract a paper whose conclusions they found inconvenient. The ongoing campaign to suppress scientific debate allows a pseudo-consensus to emerge around “gender-affirming care.”

Put simply, pediatric gender medicine in the U.S. is out of control. Medicalization of gender diversity in children is a fast-growing industry that shows no signs of self-correction. Doctors and therapists who practice “affirmative” medicine consistently demonstrate ignorance about EBM principles and deceive the public about the grim realities behind the euphemism “gender-affirming care.”

A Reuters investigation last year interviewed providers at 18 pediatric gender clinics and found that none were doing comprehensive mental health assessments and differential diagnosis. Those who promote and practice “gender-affirming care” themselves tell us that their approach is child-led. “Gatekeeping” of medical transition, they insist, is pointless, even “dehumanizing.”

The author of the AAP’s position paper on gender medicine has said that a “child’s sense of reality” is the “navigational beacon to orient treatment around.” The director of the gender clinic at Boston Children’s Hospital has admitted that they give out puberty blockers “like candy.” Even the founding psychologist of that clinic has warned that kids are being inappropriately “rushed toward the medical model.”

Why the U.S. has become an outlier on pediatric transgender medicine is a complicated question, but at least part of the answer is that European welfare states have centralized health bureaucracies and public health insurance. Before medicines can be approved for state funding, their evidence base needs to be evaluated. The American health care system is more vulnerable to profit motives, activist doctors and political pressures. Medical associations claim to advocate for patient health but can have other motives as well.

The situation is so dire that when pediatric gender medicine experts in other countries want to defend their practices before a skeptical public, they sometimes say that at least they are not as bad as the Americans. That is one kind of American exceptionalism we can do without.

[A] “child’s sense of reality” is the “navigational beacon to orient treatment around.”

Holy shit.

How can you claim that it's "settled science" and "consensus," and then leave everything up to the most immature, most depressed, most anxious, least experienced person in the room?

There are no grown ups in charge.

#Leor Sapir #gender ideology #genderwang #queer theory #medical corruption #medical scandal #gender affirming #sex trait modification #gender affirming care #affirmation model #affirmation #weak evidence #poor evidence #evidence based medicine #settled science #religion is a mental illness

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haobinsgirl · 3 months

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Toothache.

synopsis: Differently from what you’ve always known is starting new, something old or even a cold cast of grayish-blue. Something that was so bitter to you like iron in blood, and how your plans become a dud. a semester abroad where you meet 5 cold-blooded bastards,turns into a week of disaster.

warnings: reader is sick asf. (series will be nsfw once completed by chapter but this is mild)

TEASER!!

i wanted to release a teaser for the first chapter of the series before releasing it! please let me know what you think !! <3

Monday 8:53am

“Fucking hell” your voice weakly spits out as you abuse the snooze button on your alarm set on your phone, unfortunately thanks to the 4 previous alarms that had gone off you were awake enough to begin feeling a throbbing pain at your temples. Sitting up in your bed rubbing at the tender spots you yet again question your choice of extending your flight 48 hours before you start classes, but alas the damage has already been done painting itself as a “cold” or at least thats what you were convincing yourself it was because otherwise you would have to hear the never-ending “I told you so” from your best friend back home who specifically requested you take care of yourself. After debating the pros and cons of attending class in this condition you ultimately decide to take the day off to better settle in and take care of this god awful headache you’ve had since upon arrival of Incheon airport, plus missing syllabus day isn’t the biggest crime you could commit.

Upon searching the cabinets of your new apartment and the leftover boxes that you still haven’t unpacked..(lets not talk about it okay) it was apparent that you had nothing to calm this headache, therefore it was time to conquer the streets of Seoul and find some medicine..and hopefully some food. With that you got ready as much as you could possibly feel like doing for your condition and headed out, umbrella in hand because it would be raining the first day out on the town. For the most part you had no idea where you were going and you would be damned to pull out directions because you knew eventually you would have to learn your way around without a map in hand so why not get lost on a day where you had no where to be anyways, well besides In your bed rotting way because you chose to study aboard alone and now your sick and alone in another country, but you would never admit that to anyone it mattered to.

25 minutes of walking later and you finally wrapped a corner to a corner store holding the medication you needed, cruising the isles you scanned the different products available for purchase and the types of people in a convenience store at this time of day. The typical 9-5 people that come to grab coffee, students hoarding the snack isle and then theres you starring at 4 bottles of fucking ibuprofen trying to figure out what is going to best suit your symptoms in another language. “At this point I think I should just close me eyes and pick one” you mumble to yourself thinking you should let fate decide your potential mistreatment.

“This one is good for headaches.” A arm wrapped in a navy blue sleeve reaches over your shoulder from behind you to grab the blue bottle to the left of your hand on the shelf before the soft linen like voice comes to your side to hand it to you. The cold graze of his fingertips that touched yours doesn’t match the face that stands before you offering warm smile that oddly kind-of resembles a hamster. Your eyes don’t know where to go between his sweet gaze, the killer smile on his lips, the soft scent of caramel that sticks to your stuffy nostrils after not being able to breathe properly for 2 days, or the fine line tattoo peaking from the V-neck of his navy blue cashmere sweater that hugged his tall frame so well. “I- thank you..sincerely” Is what you manage to get out finally meeting the captivating look in his eyes that has your heart beating a little faster and your head go a little foggy before you feel a hand on your shoulder pulling your attention back to reality.

“You don’t look too well..are you feeling okay?” The tall man gets slightly closer to your face examining the tone of your skin which was surely soon to show the pink dusting your cheeks with how pale you were from the cold that was kicking your ass and just maybe if you were feeling anything like yourself you would’ve been extremely skeptical about a unfamiliar guy being this close to you but unknowingly to yourself he and your headache were just the dose of hypnotic delusion you needed to not question it or the fact that he somehow knew you had a headache in the first place. But delusion isn’t stupidity so you bring yourself to respond before there’s too awkward of a silence. “ oh uh yes, I’ve just been a bit down with-“ “jet-lag.” He cuts you off briefly finishing your sentence. Now this you were able to comprehend as something a stranger shouldn’t know. But before you could argue your case he begins again. “ you’re holding a passport, I could only assume.” The stunning guy chuckles, eyes directing to the passport in your right hand you were using as ID to purchase the medication. You mentally facepalm for jumping to conclusion before joining him in a small fit of laughter. “ you’re right.” You add rubbing the side of your head as you temporarily forgot about the pain being subjected to your temples.

“Its nice to meet you, I’m Sung Hanbin.”

#zb1 #zerobaseone #zb1 x reader #zb1 smut #zb1 imagines #zb1 hanbin #zb1 hard hours #kpop

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sophieinwonderland · 7 months

Note

Hello ^^

Usually I never talk on social media but I really wanted to answer your poll on God. Also, I'm not fluent in English, so I'm sorry in advance for my mistakes TwT

While it would be correct to describe God as somewhat plural, to say that He is an endogenic system is problematic for multiple reasons:

1. Man is made in the image of God, and this reveals His nature to us.

If God is an endogenic system, could we say that systems are inherently closer to God than singlets? No, this is heretical in both ways. Neither the singlets nor the plurals are closer to the nature of God because we humans share the same nature. This is similar to gender: God is neither a man nor a woman or any other gender, men cannot claim to be closer to God because they are men (no matter how hard they try 🥲) So is God a man? No. Is God an endogenic system? No.

If He was, it would mean that humans are divided, with some having a superior, holier nature than others, and that isn't the case.

2. It's not a term He uses for Himself.

Most of the terms we use to describe God come from scripture and tradition that we believe are inspired by Him. Words for God are chosen, or at least approved, by God. If we invent a term for God, it would have to preserve God's holiness (+ not contradict Revelation, but it's not the case here). God is sacred, and using "endogenic system" feels off as it's a term that takes God's sacred nature away.

3. Any comparison of the Trinity is heresy.

Then, can we compare God to an endogenic system ? Unfortunately, we soon realized that any attempt to compare the nature of God fails. Yes, it is convenient to teach the Holy Trinity to children by comparing it to a clover or water ...but that is heresy because nothing can compare to God 🤷‍♀️ Therefore, please be careful when trying to compare God's nature, especially when doing so with a secular term, it is inevitably inaccurate and may seem offensive.

4. God's origin

I'm not sure about my last point, i'm not a theologian but personally, I think the term "endogenic" bothers me the most because God's nature has no origin. He is the Creator, not a creation. Everything finds its origin in the One who has none. So using this concept that accounts for human nature and how plurality manifests in humans seems to me inappropriate for God, who has no origin.

To conclude, I want to add that in Christian mysticism you will find people who describe plural experiences like living with the Holy Spirit instead of your own spirit, communion with God, the birthing of Christ, etc. If we can recognize that these fall under the plural umbrella (“there is more than me in me”), please avoid the term “system” or other community term to describe this person before discussing this with them. Most religious people would prefer christian terminology to make sure it is suited to God and distinct from other types of experiences.

Thank you for reading 🤗

Thank you for sharing your perspective. If you don't mind, I'd like to offer my own counterpoints.

1. God's Traits And Making Man in Their Image

In some passages, God is described as a jealous God. So would that mean, therefore, that jealous people are closer to God than those who are less envious of others?

I think you can argue this with any trait that God is stated to have in the Bible. And if God being plural makes people more holy, then it would stand to reason that so would people being more jealous. Except jealousy is also treated as a sin when it's a trait of mortals. So clearly, a human feeling jealous does not make them more holy.

Similarly, I think just because God is plural, it would be fallacious to assume that being plural makes one more holy or closer to God.

I would also like to note that the passage you refer to of being made in God's image uses plural pronouns.

Then God said, ‘Let us make man in our image, in our likeness, and let them rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, over the livestock, over all the earth, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.’

In fact, the original text used the term "Elohim" for God which is traditionally a plural word. Some Christians have argued that this could refer to the Trinity.

Perhaps a better way of looking at this would be not that God made some people plural and some people singlets. But that God made all people with the propensity for plurality, in God's likeness.

2. We Regularly Use Terms For God That Didn't Appear in the Original Text

Obviously, broadly, none of the words we use to describe God are words approved by God. That is, the Bible is an English translation of older text. And as time has gone on and language changed, there have been updated Bibles using more modern terminology.

But it goes further than that. The very word Trinity doesn't appear in the biblical text. It's not part of the scripture. It's something added later to further understand certain passages.

Certainly, the word Trinity is not considered heretical despite not coming directly from the scripture.

3. Comparisons to the Trinity

Comparisons to a clover fall short because they lead to partialism, where each leaf is just one totally separate part of the clover.

Comparisons to water usually refer to the different states of water, and therefore enforce modalism.

I would argue that a comparison to plural systems avoids these issues. Conceptions of plurality typically acknowledge the overlap between headmates in a way the clover comparison doesn't. See the popular Plural Rings, for example:

And some have even used similar imagery to represent the Holy Trinity:

And while you might think comparisons to humanity would diminish God's divine nature, as you yourself said, mankind was made in God's image which reveals His nature.

The bible also speaks of God's divine nature being revealed through creation.

“They know the truth about God because he has made it obvious to them. For ever since the world was created, people have seen the earth and sky. Through everything God made, they can clearly see his invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature. So they have no excuse for not knowing God”

Would it not stand to reason then that God would design aspects of human psychology in His likeness as well so that humans might better know and understand Him?

4. God's Origin

On this, I will simply say that "endogenic" is an umbrella term currently used for any origin that isn't trauma based, and is used synonymously with "non-traumagenic." It includes the term Protogenic which refers to a system that has been a system since birth or for as long as they can remember.

Admittedly, it's a little strange to apply a -genic label to a being whose plurality had no origin, but I think weirdness of the words aside, I think it's reasonable to say that God's plurality would technically qualify as protogenic in that the Trinity has existed for as long as God has, which puts God's plurality under the broad endogenic/non-traumagenic umbrella.

Though I'll concede that perhaps it might be more accurate to classify the Trinity as an agenic system, with Their plurality having no origin at all.

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salvadorbonaparte · 5 months

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Hi! I go to UMass Amherst! I'm in my third year of undergrad so take all of this with the consideration that my experience will be quite different than a grad student's, but I have certainly got some things to say about public transportation and the area :)

Main thing: despite the fact that public transport /exists/, it's.... not great honestly. People make it work but a car will make your life 10 times easier.

As a UMass student you'd get free access to the PVTA buses run by UMass transit, which can generally get you around campus, most places in Amherst itself, and some surrounding towns like Sunderland (more residential) and Hadley (quite a few grocery stores/chain restaurants). UMass Transit don't ask to see ID, either. You just hop on and go. However, this means that buses are often really crowded at rush times and especially so during rainy or snowy weather. These buses also do not consistently run on time, so you would not want to rely on the scheduled times; instead, look at the tracking apps. I have a few friends who live off campus without cars and they make it work, but it does often mean planning classes/work around the busses. It's certainly not CONVENIENT.

During the academic year you would also be able to get to Northampton and Springfield free with your student ID. They do charge fares over school breaks. The bus to Northampton leaves hourly and is much more consistent with timing than the UMass transit busses. The bus to Springfield, the closest "bigger" city, runs (I think) every two hours. All these busses are run by the PVTA as well, but not under the UMass transit umbrella.

From Springfield, you can catch Amtrak trains -- the Northeast Regional runs there, as does the Vermonter, and I'm sure I'm forgetting some. Springfield is also the home base for Peter Pan buses which operate frequent buses to NYC, Boston, Hartford, and other locations in the general Northeast.

There is a bus to Worcester, where you can catch an Amtrak or connect to the Boston commuter rail to get to Boston pretty cheap, but it is /crappy/. Due to PVTA driver shortages they usually run it as a van, not a full bus, and frequently passengers will be left behind even after people squeeze onto the floor of the van and sit in the back or in the aisle for the 2-hour ride. It costs about $9 to go from UMass's transit hub to Worcester. Once I got stranded in Worcester and had to uber back to Amherst because that van only runs about 3 times a day and not every day of the week, last departure around 4 pm.

The Amherst area has a housing crisis right now as UMass consistently admits increasingly more undergrads than it can house, and therefore once those undergrads finish their first year and are no longer guaranteed on-campus accommodations many of them move off-campus to Amherst and its surrounding towns. The best, cheapest, and most convenient housing is usually locked down by returning students the winter before an August move-in for the fall semester. This pushes many new grad students to the surrounding towns like Sunderland, South Deerfield, etc, where buses are a bit of a crapshoot and campus is no longer within reasonable walking distance. Housing's also pretty expensive for the semi-rural location. I'm looking at off-campus housing for next year and will be happy if I can find a place where I'll pay less than $1000 a month (usually, this covers a room in a shared apartment or house).

All this said, the area itself is beautiful, and I've had a great experience with the academics here. I have heard really good things about the translation and linguistics programs and I'm sure you'd be able to find a great niche. You'll also be in close proximity to 4 other great schools (Smith College, Mount Holyoke College, Amherst College, and Hampshire College) and have the ability to take classes, work with profs, etc from those schools through the 5 college exchange program. I don't know what PhD program you're thinking of applying to but I'm in the comparative literature undergrad program (complit encompasses a lot of our translation classes, undergrad and grad level) and have nothing but good things to say about the faculty, the grad student instructors I've had, and the program as a whole.

Feel free to reach out for more information if you'd like!!

Thank you for the info!

Unfortunately I can't drive (never learned) so I'd have to rely on buses. The bus system in Ireland was surprisingly bad (almost daily delays and I lived an hour away from campus) and in Spain I lived on a mountain in the middle of nowhere so grocery shopping took up to 5h but minimum 3h so by now my standards are pretty low. I'd love to travel a little while I'm there (Boston, Salem, Maine, Buffalo etc) so I'm just glad there's buses and trains at all. A free bus system that's kinda crappy is still better than one that doesn't exist or one that's crappy and expensive (shout out to Ireland's 2€ bus fares and Hannover's 8€ metro tickets)

The housing situation is a little worrying but I'm not above a flatshare and I'd get a scholarship so I'm sure I'd find something?? But I'll start looking as soon as soon as I know where I'm moving to because the housing situation is bad in those cities too.

I know something who went to Smith and someone who went to Mount Holyoke so I heard good things about the general region and landscape etc.

The professors I talked to (German Department) were really nice and it sounds like a really cool phd program. Even though Amherst is not as prestigious as two of the other unis I'm applying to it's a very good school and I'd be happy to go there if that's the one I get accepted by/the one I pick.

#Asks

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greatmuldini · 2 years

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Any household equipped to receive the television service of the British Broadcasting Corporation in 1954 would almost certainly have done so on a “table-top” set not unlike the moderately priced and now iconic “TV-22,” which featured a circular 9-inch Mullard “television picture tube” capable of displaying the 405 lines its electron beam had to travel to draw the “high definition” images coming from London’s Alexandra Palace or the Birmingham transmitter in Sutton Coldfield. First manufactured in 1950 by Bush Radio, then under the umbrella of the Rank Corporation, the Bakelite-clad receiver came with connections for a dipole aerial and AC mains power, and no option at all to change the channel. What today would be considered a serious limitation was in fact a pragmatic decision as long as the country's airwaves remained limited to a single channel. (The set would have been ready for three additional channels which were proposed but never implemented.)

Growing audiences and an expanding schedule forced the new medium to create new content if it intended to fulfil its mission as a public broadcaster to “inform, educate, and entertain.” While the BBC's radio service had famously been on the air since 1922 and earned its merits during the war, television remained for a long time an experimental technology of questionable utility. Early programming therefore relied heavily on the spoken word and the conventions of live theatre, including the singular, and ephemeral, nature of each performance: very little was pre-recorded (on film), and once a programme was broadcast it ceased to exist. Much of the BBC's live programming and even material recorded on tape is now lost; what we do have from the era before and just after the introduction of magnetic tape in 1956 was routinely filmed off the television screen in a process known as kinescoping. Preservation of its output did not rank among the BBC's priorities; recording everything on film would have required vast resources dwarfing the convenience of "canned" content: repeat showings on the BBC often meant repeat performances – bringing the original cast and crew back to the studio was, after all, a well-rehearsed operation and more efficient than any existing technology. Similar traditional arrangements continued well beyond the arrival of effective technical solutions.

The lack of definition, in every sense, at first prevented the new medium from being recognized as such not only by those who worked in it but also the sceptical consumers into whose living rooms the images would be beamed. The privacy of the viewing experience would prove decisive: like its theatrical rival, television was visual, and it was live. With radio it shared the spontaneity of the live broadcast and a large audience that would not need to come together in a single room. Film could offer none of the above, certainly not in combination, but where television (and radio) opted for intimacy on the small screen, film went big and promoted the communal experience – a very basic, fundamental division which remained in place for more than half a century and is only now being challenged by the most recent innovations in streaming and subscription services.

In 1954 the BBC, as the sole operator of the new technology in the United Kingdom, looked to other pioneers abroad for suitable formats with which to fill their expanding schedules. In the United States, commercial television was in full swing by the early 1950s, with major broadcasters such as NBC and CBS competing for viewers and, more importantly, advertising partners – sponsors in the terminology of the scheme developed for radio that had businesses pay for the right to name an entire programme (today's wealth of "archival" recordings from the era is a direct result of the legal requirement to provide proof to the customers that their money was well-spent). Here, too, tried and tested radio content was being adapted for television and, in the process, began to take on hybrid features. One promising concept on the CBS network that appealed to the BBC decision makers was a former radio show turned televisual experiment: You Are There fused (fictitious) contemporary radio reportage with historical re-enactments – easily done on radio but more challenging – and more rewarding – as a live spectacle for audiences to see. Not quite ready, in technical terms, to rival the offerings of the film industry but arguably an alternative to a night out at the theatre, the "night in" promised to become an event in its own right.

You Are There set out to transport the viewer back in time and to bring them face to face with historical figures, who are moreover prepared to pause and be interviewed by modern-day (all-male, often real-life) TV news correspondents. The deliberate anachronism of the programme, examining a fictionalized version of history with the most modern tools available and presenting it to the viewer in the privacy of his own living room was the message and the medium rolled into one: the historical subject under scrutiny was by no means chosen at random or pre-determined by the American creators; licensees around the world dramatized historical events from their own national perspectives. Only seven episodes were produced for the BBC in 1954, none of which exist today. Press reviews and summaries confirm the use of exterior location sequences pre-recorded on film to supplement the live performances in the Alexandra Palace studio, but we can only speculate on the precise treatment of each subject.

The series opened, appropriately, with the Charge of the Light Brigade in the year of its centenary, followed by the trials (and tribulations) of Mary Queen of Scots, Charles I, Captain Dreyfus, and Julius Caesar. Joining this eminent circle were, somewhat less obviously, the instigators of a minor mutiny, as well as a major figure, arguably, of the Anglo-Irish political struggle whose historical – and literary - significance has only grown since 1954. The Fall of Charles Stuart Parnell has inspired generations of writers engaged in the fabrication of alternate histories. The enigma of his personality, and the complex set of circumstances surrounding the events of 1890 continue to be explored in imaginary what if variations. You Are There, by contrast, portrays a moment in time that must contain a myriad of possibilities. [Part 1 of 2]

#Patrick McGoohan #Helen Shingler #mother of Murray Head and Anthony Head amazingly #You Are There #The Fall of Parnell #would have been closer to audiences in 1954 #than the TV programme is to us today #incredible to think that some 60 years later #participants would still have been alive #even though key protagonists had dided by 1937 #when the first Hollywood romance was crafted #starring Clark Gable and Myrna Loy #Ireland of course continued to struggle right through #the first half of the 20th century and beyond #with the unfinished business of Parnell's now #heroic failure #though the BBCäs perspective may have been more detached and compressed #into a 30-minute lesson about a charismatic leader who did NOT change British history #when the country was experiencing victory and rationing and had not yet reinvented itself #where conformity was indeed the norm and individuality abnormal unless it came off as eccentricity #and modernity as technological advance #which it did in the case of television before morality caught up #within one year commerical television was on the air and the tv set obsolete #if one wanted ITV #and people did #with consequences for all of us #what a waffle so sorry

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ghelgheli · 8 months

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curious about the mesoudi? surely its not just social darwinism right

(re: Towards a Unified Science of Cultural Evolution [doi] and Is Human Cultural Evolution Darwinian? [doi], both by Alex Mesoudi, Andrew Whiten, Kevin N. Laland and listed on my september reading list)

nope, not at all! the thrust of both articles is similar: that those academic disciplines dedicated to studying the state and change of human culture (broadly construed—this captures linguistics, archaeology, sociology...) can benefit epistemically and methodologically from the wisdom of a century of work in evolutionary biology and its related umbrella as gained through a darwinian understanding of evolution

an example i'd give of where this has happened in a convergent sort of way (but still, imo, needs to happen more) is in the case of linguistic typology. the development of comparative and therefore historical linguistics in the 19th century, thru a wittgensteinian turn in the early 20th century, thru to today, destabilizes epistemologies that hold languages as fixed natural kinds, and sociolinguistic work (as well as an honest metaphysics of language) ought to destabilize the notion that languages are any sort of essential kind at all. the understanding of language as a relational phenomenon that only exists insofar as it is instantiated helps us understand why speaking of "a language" as an abstraction can only ever be the work of inventing taxonomies to describe vague and varying uses of language between people who are never really speaking the same platonic object of a language (i am definitely stepping on some realist toes here but i do not care. i've had professors who think that languages have some kind of independent metaphysical existence and this is honestly silly). this problematizes dialect/language distinctions and indeed ought to direct the sort of work any descriptive linguist does. if you think about it this is exactly the kind of destabilization that darwin offered to the use of natural kinds in biology. a species is not really a thing with an essence; it is a convenient generalization that is often vague, can be misleading, flattens variation, etc. (consider ring species, or paleontological work of building taxonomies of evolutionary history)

the first article gives an example (among many others) analogizing paleobiology with archaeology in the following way: inheritance is axiomatic to understanding fossil records, and those records are analyzed with evolutionary relationships via inheritance in mind. morphological similarities are no accident, but evidence of a genealogical relationship. in a similar way (they say—i'm now leaving my own wheelhouse) archaeology seems to have only recently adopted the methods of trying to analyze relationships between artifacts in the record thru inheritance. this is to be distinguished with firm lines drawn between different material "cultures" where one is supposed to have supplanted the other in a sort of punctuated equilibrium or displacement. instead, records of e.g. arrowtip morphology can be sorted according to similarity, and interpreted as a sequence of inherited cultural practice that changes over time according to "mutations". this also allows for taxonomies of ancestry, where families of material cultures can be hypothesized to descend from common material ancestors on the basis of inherited similarities

obviously the big one in this discussion, tho, is replicator dynamics. and the articles do mention memetics as the abortive attempt at applying replicator dynamics to human culture. what i think is done well is a complication of the conception of biological replicators as straightforward: biological inheritance can be rather more complicated than the gene coding for a trait (they give examples of overlapping, movable, and nested genes), and it isn't a priori a wrench in the machine that hypothetical cultural replicators would not be simply describable. they argue that it can be useful in a discipline like cogsci to try and develop an epistemology of discretized meme-like objects that could, perhaps, be tracked with more fine-grained observational methods than what we have now (there's a rather goofy paragraph about mirror neurons, which are far more contested than popular wisdom would have us think, but the article is from 2006)

now, this is where i think the analogy can sometimes be taken too far—but, to their credit, they don't do this in either article. because there is a tradition i've complained about On Here a number of times of using computational evolutionary biology to try and model cultural phenomena, and i just don't think that can achieve the complexity nor robustness that would be required, nor do i think it holds a candle to alternative methods we have available to us (like, you know, the science of historical materialism—which is in its own way, in the destabilization of kinds, stasis, and "progress" that dialectics offers and the uncompromising analysis of historical facts as proceeding from earlier facts, darwinian). these methods find purchase in evolutionary biology because, for all the genetic complexities involved, the notion of biological fitness is well-defined, as is biological inheritance, and the games that can be played in this sense have robust analogies to real-world competition (e.g. cautious ritual signalling between, say, stags). i'm very skeptical that this is something anyone is going to be able to do with the multiply more complex phenomena of intragenerational behaviour and culture. my immediate impression of anyone who claims to have done so, numerically, is that they fancy themselves the first hari seldon. but anyway, that's just to temper the optimism here. i think the essential thesis is strong.

#ask answer

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d03 · 11 months

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The Thief With Azure Skin-an wip sci-fi story-Chapter 2

It took only a few seconds, for the authorities to question Kion. He knew little of the why, he gave the impression of an unlucky victim.

“Can you tell me, if that Crying Boy is still kicking? I wanna know if theres trouble down the line” Asked Kion, his bandages straining to stay on his bruised azure skin.

“This is a high profile case, we can’t risk case sensitive information going out into the public.” Said interrogator, her voice professional and monotone.

After some research, the authorities agreed that his story checked out, so they let him go.

Kion sat at the bus stop, the rain crashing on him, enveloping him in a liquid coat.

“Need Help?” Said a voice, and then an umbrella shielded Kion from the rain. Kion looked beside him, to meet the eyes of the kind stranger, only to be met by nothing. Therefore Kion looked down and was met by the sight of a small trench-coat wearing figure standing next to him, holding a very long umbrella.

“are you a journalist or something?”

“Not a journalist, but I still expose evil”

“And that means?”

“That means I search for threats and help neutralise them”

Kion squatted down to the same height as the small figure

“Could you specify?

It was only then that Kion could see under the fedora, a sight that sent him falling over.

“Your.. Your Psynov Ar-Ar-Ma, the revolutionary!”

“You don’t need to be scared, I have left those days behind.”

“Why are you bothering with me?”

“You proved yourself today as a capable lock breaker and sturdy warriors. I’’m interested in your services, also Diserata recommended you. I first will warn you, that this is a high risk mission”

“why didn’t you lead with that, I’m in! Good ol’ Dis, getting me jobs” said Kion and stood up with new energy.

“So what is it about?”

“We are going to the eastern desert of this planet, it's called Aredai, we travel to a research station there to extract an important individual. We will meet here back in the morning”

Psynov then went the towards a car that was cloaked in downpour.

“In another not do you know anything about the document, the one Crying Man was trying to steal?”

“Yes, it is related to our mission. I will explain further when we meet again” said Psynov and went inside his car.

“Eh, sorry, but could you give me a lift to my hotel?”

“Sorry, no” said Psynov and then his car sped away

Getting an extraction job just after getting tricked into a heist, was it a bout of luck? Kion knew that it was all too convenient, and that Psynov had a reason for not talking about the details in the public. He had to just test his luck, either way he needed the money. At least he would get a good story out of it. After a belated bus ride and nap, Kion awoke and put on his leather jacket, ripped pants and an old “Meteor Girls” shirt. Kion took the bus to the meeting place, the city bustling around him.

Kion gathered his knowledge about Psynov, trying to understand the one who had hired him. Kion knew that Psynov was a former revolutionary leader, but turned on his group when they turned into genocidal extremists. What Kion knew least about was Psynov’s species, he knew that they were energy beings that inhabited metal bodies. Though anything else was a mystery to him.

This build his exceptions, of the encounter with the Psynov. At the bus stop he met his new employer, still in his trench coat and fedora getup. Psynov emerald eyes looked up at Kion.

“Hello, Kion. Did you get sleep?”

#writing

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huriia1 · 8 days

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Get an umbrella holder from Huriia to carry umbrellas hassle-free!

These accessories offer the convenience of easy carrying of umbrellas. This is the most significant advantage of an umbrella clip. The umbrella remains secured to the dress or bag, and the hands stay free. People can use their hands to perform other activities. Therefore, these accessories allow multitasking. So, people can walk and roam around freely with the help of an umbrella holder.

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decadentduckpeanut · 2 months

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Nardi Omega Upholstery and Cushions

Nardi offers highend outside lounge furniture that's made with antistatic and moisture resistant resin, featuring elegant yet practical styles crafted in Italy for complete Created in Italy production processes.

An inflatable pool lounge chair can take your poolside expertise to the next level. Select from numerous colors, dimensions and shapes.

A variety of fabrics are used for luxury outdoor furniture, together with materials like olefin. Olefin may be a kind of solutiondyed artificial fibre, which is incredibly sturdy and stainresistant. This fabric can be found in an exceedingly big selection of chairs, sofas, chaise lounges and additional. It is resistant to UV rays, chlorine and saltwater, creating it excellent for outside use. It will also face up to abrasion, which means it can get on my feet to significant use. It is conjointly straightforward to wash, as it resists deterioration from mildew, chemicals and insects.

Out of doors resin furniture makes an attractive and purposeful addition to any home, while being ecofriendly and weather resistant. Furthermore, it resists mildew growth plus mildew growth.

Sara Kenton's passion for Van Morrison's music galvanized her to launch Tupelo Goods, an Austinbased company offering up to date out of doors furniture. Since launching in 2018, Tupelo Product has rapidly expanded with offerings starting from beach tote luggage which will simply be rinsed after long beach days, to chairs designed with silicone seats for both land and water access. In addition to selling traditional adirondack and hammock chairs, the whole additionally sells transportable fireplace pits that make entertaining easier, with Zephyr Flyer swings to promote slowness in neighborhoods. Their merchandise can be found through retailers such as Target and Whole Foods; with its mission being to bring people together through merchandise that make recollections and celebrate special moments; their future plans involve expanding its lineup by adding outside games that promote familyfriendly fun!

One in all the numerous benefits of outdoor furniture crafted from recycled resin is that it will withstand all sorts of weather it resists rusting, staining and mildewing while having the ability to stand up to extreme temperatures and sunlight without warping or rotting over time. Recycled resin furniture makes an excellent various to picket outside furniture that often needs regular maintenance for best performance and delight. Recycled plastic furniture offers another advantage over its counterparts: it's entirely recyclable itself. Several manufacturers utilize this material in the production method, guaranteeing ecofriendliness. By recycling this material and continuing production with quality furniture pieces from it, makers cut back oilbased polymers that will contribute to pollution problems.

To keep out of doors furniture beautiful and in smart condition, it's crucial that it's regularly cleaned and guarded against the elements. Regular soap and water cleaning can do just fine, whereas adding protective coating such as varnish or wax will keep pieces looking whole new for an extended period. Alternatively, water repellant spray can conjointly work effectively; simply be positive it's been specifically made for outside furniture as using regular household cleaners will harm its surface. One of the hottest trends in outdoor furniture design is mixing materials. Furniture makers often combine wood, metal and plastic into trendy designs that withstand weather elements giving customers additional selections so as to pick out pieces that best match their personal styles and add texture and depth to a area.

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