#...ive definitely never done this

[extended-play]

Fighting for my life

[aether-weather]

HAPPY NATIONAL CHAMELEON DAY EVERYPONY

HAVE ESPIO 👍👍

[stefisdoingthings]

ark aftermath

[thecursedcreator]

so youre telling me. toby fox gave us a tv head as tall as he is pathetic and tragic. and he expected us to be normal about it?

[hitsuzenhusbands]

something just happened to me. here's approx 1.7k words of a trope i'll never get over

-

The wedding is all white, glowing and glistening like freshly pulled teeth. William is dripping in it, suit freshly pressed, fit to his wider form (courtesy of all the time he’s been spending with Annette, feigning domesticity, clinking rings preparing a dinner he nearly always ruins, giggling over spilt wine and unevenly chopped ingredients) and stark, LED white–save for one single red rose, a spot of blood clear against his left lapel, its petals crooked and withered from where he’s been running nervous fingers over it all day. 

It’s all over now, though. His frayed nerves flitter out of his pursed lips in a thin line of smoke he doesn’t choke on anymore, simply lets circumvent charred lungs and stain the air with the scent of addiction. He’s become addicted to a lot of things, recently. 

Addicted to Annette, he joked earlier, as if his hands weren’t slick with sweat, twitching every minute he spent off his pills at her request. Just one day, she had told him, he doesn’t need them to get married, does he?

Addicted to cigarettes, but that’s a given–ever since Wesker lit his first with an ever-polished Zippo, allowing him entrance into his quiet moments, his breaks spent spilling ash onto academy grass, the only time he could ever be truly away from the world. The habit followed them both into the depths of Umbrella, and now it’s here, backs pressed into brick, passing what was left of the pack Wesker smuggled in between them. It was full, earlier, before the ceremony, before William was tucked away in his spot at the altar, rocking back and forth on giddy, anxious feet as Annette walked down the aisle–before Wesker was there, right at his side. William doesn’t know that, though. He doesn’t know every butt Wesker snubbed out until his perfectly clean soles were smeared in cinders, and Wesker doesn’t tell him.

“She’s wonderful, isn’t she?” William brushes his hair away from his eyes as it falls from his middle part, once carefully combed as he preened himself in the bathroom mirror, desperately trying to rid his eyes and cheeks of the redness every hot tear had left in its wake. Wesker isn’t entirely sure why he was crying, wet and ugly, hands pressed to his face, splashing himself with cold water and running the faucet to drown out his choked sobs. He bore witness to the outburst in silence.

Wesker remembers when he used to wear his hair like that all the time. Ages spent fogging up their shared bathroom, combing through all-nighter tied knots, pulling ties tight around his neck, tucking shirts into freshly ironed pants, all so that he’d have an easier time sucking up to Markus and Spencer alike. Annette has never seen him like that–she only knows his matted side part and ill-fitting button-ups, the lines Umbrella has since worn into his face and the bags they’ve carved beneath his eyes. 

She takes to the dance floor with no particular ease, but her friends gather around her and her dress flows with such elegance Wesker isn’t sure anyone would notice her fumbled steps and half-trips aside from him. He swirls his drink in idle hand, the alcohol stronger than anything he’s ever had. Then again, there was whatever William had snuck into their dorm way back when, tucked beneath his bed until they had cause to celebrate and drink the whole thing in one night he can’t quite recall. “She’s fine.”

“Albert.” William sighs. “Don’t say that. You like her. I know you like her.”

He does like her, in a way. She’s perfectly fine to have at the lab. She minds her own business, finishes her work on time, and whenever they do cross paths she is relatively pleasant, more so than many of the other scientists he’s met (William, being one, with his sharp temper and wild possession over the communal coffee machine). Still, he shrugs and sips from his crystalline glass.

“Okay, fine. You didn’t want to be here, I get it,” Wesker used the invitation as a coaster for approximately a week before William just about begged him–his only colleague, the only guest that wasn’t invited by Annette–to RSVP. For my sake, Albert. “But you showed up, and I’m grateful, but the least you could do is be nice about my goddamn wife!” The last words are hissed between grit, caffeine-tinged teeth as he turns to face Wesker at last, piercing blue eyes wedged beneath knit brows trying to catch Wesker’s unmoving gaze beneath his sunglasses. He fails, of course, and throws the still-lit cigarette onto the ground, storming away in a blur of mumbled curses and shuffling porcelain fabric. 

Wesker watches as he meets up with Annette on the dance floor. He drinks when all the tension eases from William’s shoulders the moment she pulls him into her arms and convinces him to sway with her. He drinks when he runs his fingers through her hair. He drinks when he settles his hand on her waist. He drinks when he presses his forehead to hers and, for the first time in a long while, looks entirely at ease.

-

He isn’t sure why he stays, but he certainly doesn’t leave, even when the sky fills with patchy clumps of stars and the glasses wearing dents into the bridge of his nose becomes less of a peculiar fashion statement and more of a topic of whispered conversation between Annette’s wine-drunk friends, giggling and pointing as if he can’t hear them. 

He’s drunk, too, but instead of contributing to workplace gossip and shedding tears over the newlyweds, he’s gone to the bathroom to throw up approximately three times and is bordering on a fourth when William joins him at the bar. It’s a solemn sort of olive branch he offers, sliding a beer in front of Wesker and drinking greedily from his own. There’s a buzz about him, flushing his face with the same pink that crawls up his neck, released from the previously firm grip of his collar. Wesker averts his gaze as best he can. 

“Sorry about that. About earlier.” William’s voice slurs through a mouth tinged red by what he can only assume is remnants of Annette’s lipstick he couldn’t quite wipe from the cracks in his lips. Wesker doesn’t respond. “I have a lot on my mind, y’know? I guess I just…I don’t know. I want you to…”

“To what, Birkin?”

He falters at the name, drawing back into himself like a wounded animal with just enough fight in him to bare his teeth and cough out a stilted: “To support me in the biggest decision of my life? If you ever got married–”

“I won’t.”

“If. I’d be there, alright? I wouldn’t sit there the whole time, fucking stone-faced, like I didn’t give a shit about my best friend.”

“I’m not going to get married,” Wesker repeats, taking a long swig from his drink, wincing slightly at the taste despite how numb his throat has become. “You weren’t, either.”

William glances back at Annette, dress wrapped up so that she can sit comfortably in a chair. She’s taken off her heels for the moment, having spent the past hour complaining about how uncomfortable they were while William insisted that he’d take care of her once they went home. She had laughed at that, a rare chuckle like tinkling bells and all the years ahead of them to spend tending to one another. Her hair has fallen from where it was carefully braided around her head, now lying on her shoulders in perfect waves, shifting when she turns to speak to the remaining guests not spilling alcohol as they dance and giggle in shrill tones to the pulsing music that sets Wesker’s lingering migraine alight. 

“No,” William answers at last, defeated. “But how could I not?”

Unfazed, Wesker continues. "You weren’t going to get married, you weren’t going to throw your life away for anyone.”

“I’m not throwing my life away–”

“All the time you could be spending making a difference in this world, you’re going to waste it on her, some…woman you barely know–”

“I know Annette!” William stands suddenly, hands pressed onto the bar to steady himself as his stool screeches behind him. Wesker meets his eyes, the bright red crawling up his cheeks in a mix of intoxication and growing irritation at every delicately picked word Wesker spits out in clipped, rigid syllables. 

“–and she doesn’t hardly know the half of you. Did you truly believe you were going to live out some idealized suburban life you conjured up? White picket fence, baby babbling in its cradle, calling out for a man who knows deep down he would never give up his work for anything?”

“I don’t know if I want a child!” He cries out, louder than he should, and quickly clamps a hand over his mouth as he returns to his stool. They both know it isn’t true. Wesker had caught a glimpse at the list on William’s desk, right next to some formulas scrawled down in chicken scratch only Wesker can decode: Emma, Sophia, Sherry, Annabelle, Liam, Oliver, Albert, Henry. "I don't have everything planned out, okay? Who does?"

Wesker does, of course, but he doesn't think about that. He clenches his fist so tightly it leaves bitten crescents in his palms, white knuckles digging into the polished wood of the countertop in a poor attempt to calm himself. “Albert–”

“You don’t even love her.”

William swings, and were Wesker more aware of his surroundings, he likely would have grabbed his trembling fist and bent William over the counter, but instead he simply catches it right in the jaw, blood trickling from his mouth as he follows its path right into the half-empty bottle beside him. It falls, rolls, cracks against the tile and spills beer across the floor, alerting the attention of everyone in earshot. Wesker steadies himself, adjusting his sunglasses from where they had tilted to reveal a single, bloodshot eye that glares at William with more emotion than either of them thought him to be physically capable. William merely stares back, chest heaving with coarse breath.

“Go home, Wesker.”

[dandelion-roots]

[ID: a gif of riz from fantasy high bopping up and down. he's drawn in pixel art. End ID]

been having a blast playing with asesprite since i bought it yesterday (the animation system is super easy to use), so have a riz to celebrate!

[gelarshiesprofruitboarder]

they make me ill /pos

[cherry-bomb-ships]

Aaaaaah I know I've been talking abt this art for like 3 days but I FINISHED IT HEEHEE 💖💘💖💘💖💘💖 The thought behind this was Cherry was getting mugged during their walk back to her apartment cuz Townsville be like that, and this is the moment Mojo swooped in to her rescue (How did he know it was happening? He deeeefinitely wasnt spying on them lol) ANYWAYS ENJOY If you want more thoughts look at my tags!! 💖💖💖💖💖💖

[[🧡 Reblogs and comments are all seen and very appreciated!! 🥺 Tag list below the cut, check out my pinned for my taglist form! 💙]]

@absentmoon @ava-ships @bee-ships @beetleboyfriend @berryshipbasket @canongf @clawfull @cloudyvoid @derelictdumbass @dissonantyote @edencantstopfallininlove @final-catboy @flowering-darkness @gible-love-nibles @nagirans @hoppinkiss @hotrodharts @hyperionshipping @iwishihadfangs @iyamifucker @judetama @lex-n-weegie @lficanthaveloveiwantpower @little-miss-selfships @little-shiny-sharpies @loogi-selfships @mandrakebrew @mintpecks @mothfinite @mrs-kelly @nameless-self-ships @orbitingaroundyourlove @nerdstreak @paper-carnation @p-i-t-s @qilinkisser @reds-self-ships @rexscanonwife @rotten--cotton @ship-trek @spacestationstorybook @squips-ship @toogayforthistoday @winterworlds

[newvegascowboy]

Idk i feel like complaining about relationship dynamics in shipping fandom is like looking at high fantasy setting and complaining that there's dragons. It's a fantasy. It's not a 1 to 1 mirror of life.

[rafyki]

Btw not to be dramatic or anything but Jack and Joker really changed the standards for me

[joonok]

but also youll still never understand namgyu how i do BLEHHH i grew up around substance abusers😛🔥

[puke-ur-gutz]

i will cashapp $10 to the first person who can name 3 real life harmful things bob bryar did without accusing him of thought crime

[laridawn]

so like... when you love somebody, you put your pants on for them. but if you hate somebody do you. take your pants off for them

[hergrandplan]

.

[milkweedman]

was doing the math, and next january I'll have been crocheting 10 years, knitting 9, and spinning 6 years.

Crazy how time flies...

[yuwuta]

If megumi asked uzhsjdhshd omg I totally see it tbh him wanting you, but I don't think megumi would ever ask yuuji to share you, in any type of way at all. (not trying to push my own hc here!!) I feel like yuuji himself would be the one asking megumi. Yuuji knows that he's yours just as much as he knows you're his. And he loves you too much, a lot, it's purest type of love he has ever felt for anyone. And megumi is his best friend, he loves him just as much, right? Yes, not the same love between you and him ofc but yes. And I have no idea what they were doing but yuuji's just says, kind of out of the blue, that he'd let megumi fuck you. The reason being exactly cause he knows you're his, and you're just so so good that he needs to have someone to talk to (about you and always so respectfully) and who better that his best friend?

you’re opening the pandora’s box that is itfs + reader…. god….. 

okok i agree. if you’re dating yuuji, megumi would never ask, yuuji would be the one to bring all three of you together. definitely because he loves you and you’re his, and he loves megumi too, so it just makes sense that his two favorite people also get to have each other—but also, yuuji can tell megumi likes you, and he can tell you think megumi is attractive and since yuuji’s so nice, what kinder thing to do than to set you two up so he can watch (: he definitely enjoys being the mediator, also enjoys the somewhat awkward air between you and megumi, how yeah, maybe it’s a little taboo that the two of you are about to make out while you’re boyfriend watches, but yuuji likes that too… also he likes knowing that you both like him. like how lucky is he that his best friend and his girlfriend adore him so much :(( you two together makes so much sense in his head, because he talks to megumi about you, and he talks to you about megumi, and now, he can just pour all his love for both of you out at the same time

but also…. i’d like to think that yuuji’s maybe not so nice when it’s the other way around—when he and megumi get together first, and you’re megumi’s best friend. he’s not mean, but he does like to tease... how naughty of megumi to ask out yuuji knowing he’s still got a crush on you, and god does yuuji like to tease him about it :/ jerks him off and taunts about how he knows megumi’s dirty little secret—that he’s in love with his best friend and fantasizes not just about having you, but about watching his own boyfriend fuck you too… 

yuuji knows megumi would take his feelings for you to the grave if he could (he’d have done the same with his feelings for yuuji if yuuji wasn’t the one to ask him out), but where’s the fun in that! you and megumi are sooo cute together after all, so yuuji doesn’t mind trying to get you two to confess to each other too. uses his proximity to megumi to get closer to you, takes advantage of his bubbly disposition to be physically affectionate with you, uses megumi’s feelings to his advantage to tease, to wink, to smirk whenever you and yuuji hug a little longer, when he texts megumi that he’s meeting up with you for lunch, when he gives you his jacket and doesn’t ask for it back… there’s so much fun in watching megumi blush and whine and get off at the thought of his best friend and his boyfriend together. and the thing is, yuuji genuinely does like you, too, he sees what megumi sees in you, and he thinks megumi is crazy to have not asked you out before, but he supposes everything happens for a reason, because now, this way, yuuji gets to be there and watch it all happen under his guidance. there’s something about the power, about being the bridge between you two even though you and megumi have known each other for much longer, about being in control of a dynamic that could have, but wouldn’t exist without him…