#click for better quality ♡

[imtomiee]

Яд

[arklay]

RESIDENT EVIL → THE WESKER FAMILY

To the public, little is known of the families behind some of the world’s most renowned bioterrorists, but the question remains: did they play a role in causing their children to walk down the path that they did? Or are these individuals simply ambitious criminals with delusions of grandeur?

For Diana Wesker (née Afanasyeva), her introduction into the bioweapons black market trade was upon discovering her employers were using her research into limb regeneration with salamanders to further their experiments in creating enhanced soldiers, instead of developing human therapies with which she was recruited for. Although the prospect of using biological weapons in the military did not appeal to her, the concept remained fascinating for her own selfish endeavours. Born on the 27th of October, 1963 in Sydney, Australia to Russian immigrant parents, Diana had harsh expectations placed upon her at a young age, ones that no matter how hard she tried she could never live up to. Her mother, Tatyana, was an unfeeling woman, absent for long stretches of time with little regard to how it affected her daughters, much more concerned with her craft as an accomplished opera singer. Viktor was no better. A strict man whose role as father and ballet master blurred, he pushed his girls to one day follow in his footsteps. Whilst Sofia enjoyed ballet, and went on to become a professional ballet dancer, Diana’s heart was set on going into the field of biology. She wished to make a name for herself, separate from her family – to which she succeeded.

Diana was married to former U.S. Marine, Dave Monroe, for only a year until he was declared dead in 1992 after succumbing to injuries sustained in a horrific car accident. Foul play was ruled out while Diana played the role of the grief-stricken widow, but in reality, she had snapped after years of mistreatment at her husband’s hands, and opted for something she could pass off as an accident to be free of him. For years she believed he was dead – and he was, legally – but that proved to not be the case when he found his way back into her life again in 1999. Unbeknownst to her, she had been lied to by the police and coroner, who were paid off by her employers when they took Dave’s body for themselves and used him as one of their first test subjects in developing supersoldiers. Before he could ever hurt her again, Diana’s second husband, Albert Wesker, tracked the man down, captured him and tortured him, before allowing Diana to get her violent and bloody revenge.

The origins of Albert Wesker’s involvement in bioterrorism, alongside his twin sister, Alex, are much different than that of Diana’s. The two hail from London, Canada, but unfortunately, they hold no memories of their lives there, nor what happened to their biological parents when they were eight years old. Agents of Oswell E. Spencer, an aristocratic billionaire and eugenicist, took the twins from their home and executed their parents as per Spencer’s orders. Albert and Alex were then placed in a home funded by the Spencer Foundation where they were given new names and a privileged upbringing. They had access to the best education possible, free to pursue whichever field they decided, but it was by no accident they both went into virology and bioengineering; at home, their adoptive parents – agents whom they believed to be their real parents – instilled them with the beliefs of Oswell E. Spencer, harbouring disdain for war and pestilence, and believing humans to be an evolutionary dead-end in need of a rebirth. They were only two of the hundreds of children “adopted” as part of what is known as Project W, a plan intended to develop an advanced race of human beings. The most promising candidates were headhunted by Umbrella Pharmaceuticals, the twins amongst them, where they went on to create bioweapons for the company founded by none other than the man who had handpicked them for his plan. The final stage of this was to infect the thirteen Spencer saw fit, however, only two survived; Albert received the intended effects, now possessing superhuman abilities, however, Alex was only offered more time to live due to her terminal degenerative illness.

In the summer of 1995, Diana was working undercover within Umbrella to gather development data on their projects for her company. Here, she had a chance encounter with Albert, an intelligence officer at the time, which permanently altered the course of her life. The two were never seen far from one another’s side, marrying in 1998, and they went on to become notorious in the bioweapons industry. The development of the Uroboros virus was where things took a turn for the worst. Although Diana’s infection was successful and she bore abilities that rivalled her husband’s, the plan itself did not succeed as they had hoped, and almost cost Albert his life at the hands of his former subordinates.

Now, they work within the shadows, with Diana declared missing and Albert believed to be dead. Their legacy, however, lives on with the mark they left on the world. As visionaries in their field, they influenced bioterror attacks carried out by countless individuals and organisations. In turn, they also inspired others to fight against such atrocities. One such person happens to be Albert’s son from a former relationship, Jake Müller, whose existence he was unaware of.

[mocha-tapioca]

I KNOW I’M NOTHING MORE THAN AN EMPTY GHOST !!

[a-phanboys-fanboy]

René boss battle speedrun strat

[upperranktwo]

Finally edited my favourite photo I've ever taken and I love it!!!! 10 month old cub! She is absolutely gorgeous just like her mother!

[satirn]

when the colors pink and green 💖💚

+ with bg because i cant decide which is better.

though ive already drawn them i wanted to redo it bc I thought i could do better with their design. honestly glad i did the first drawing i did was ROUGH 🥲

[bearculaa]

𝑒𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒'𝑠 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑓𝑖𝑡𝑠 ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ 

𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑓𝑖𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑒 jacket (tsr) ✮ top ✮ skirt 𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑓𝑖𝑡 𝑡𝑤𝑜 blazer ✮ dress 𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑓𝑖𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒 sweater

[ghostdog1999]

THANK U :) HAVE A NICE DAY / BEIJING MARCH 2023

[edenfire]

✨️🌈 oh tohru... 🌈✨️

was experimenting with a slightly new way to color to destress💗 I love my ladies so much, and I want s3 so bad🥺💞🌸

[pomescythe]

The Lutwidge Academy uniforms are strangely popular to outsiders lately...

My secret santa gift for @/wormtopi on instagram! ♡

[minwooks-moved]

14.05.22. | BEATBOX | STUDIO TRIO : ONE

( NCT DREAM’S MARK - RENJUN - JAEMIN )

[arklay]

DANI HAINES x CARLOS OLIVEIRA / template.

[writing-in-glitter-pen]

love🥺🫶🏻I click at my notification so fast when I saw your posting again adfkgk you have no idea how much I like your writing! also I'm new to your blog but if anyone trying to hurt you I'm......going to give them a really bad time... 😤💪//hj

Anyway 🥺🫶🏻🫶🏻can I request a reaction of wrio and neuvillette with a darling who has a habit of looking at the price on menus...like why worry your silly little head? when you're with them those silly little numbers mean nothing. it's one of your habit that's hard to let go but he find them really cute so it's okay!

Awwww thank you so much, dear!!!! You'll be happy to know that I've got nothing but love on here which I'm so so grateful for ♡ but I appreciate you so much for your protection ♡

And what a lovely idea!! This is so something I struggle with so it was interesting to write about and imagine what our favorite boys would say!! I hope you like it ♡

✧˖° you're worth all the mora in the world⋆.˚✧

Wriothesley & Neuvillette x gn!reader (separate) II fluff!

"You're not allowed to order water."

"Wriothesley..."

He slides the drink menu over to you with a stern, "Pick one."

"...but I don't need—"

"It's not about needing. I took you out to spoil and indulge you, don't deny me that pleasure."

You've been dating Wriothesley long enough for him to find your cautiousness when it comes to his funds an issue.

On the first few dates you two shared, though he'd rather have pampered you with lavish meals and treats, he decided to look the other way when it came to how you'd always miraculously choose the most inexpensive dishes on the menu.

"I guess that's only polite...", he reasoned with himself, weighing whether or not he should mention to you that money was not a problem for him; but eventually, he thought it better to just give you time.

"Once we get more comfortable, it'll change."

And once you two did get comfortable, and he found that your behavior, in fact, did not change, his patience wore thin.

Why were you still so uncomfortable with him? It was almost an insult that you thought so little of him to assume he'd find paying for you a burden.

So, he takes to ordering for you. He knows what you like, and he knows if he lets you choose for yourself, the price will play a factor into what you order—even subconsciously.

Until you start choosing the most expensive meals on the menu, you're not allowed to make objections or requests without grounds like allergies or dislikes; which you won't have, because he knows you too well by now.

If you try to lie and tell him you don't like something he's picked for you, you will fail. Miserably, so.

"I don't like crab.", you argue—peeking over your menu at him in an attempt to hide your tells that he's become much too familiar with. He could read you like a book, and you have no idea how he's gained so much expertise in the field of you.

"Uh huh, sure, doll.", he doesn't even look at you, his attention on the waiter as he orders. "That one—", he says, flicking his finger to point at you, "is going to have golden crab.".

"And the crab will be market-priced. Will that be all right with you, sir?", the waiter feels the need to confirm, as market-priced foods are often quite expensive.

You jump in, "How mu—"

"That's fine.", Wriothesley interjects, giving you a stern look as he plucks the menu from your hands, revealing your red cheeks (a symptom of your fibbing), and passes it to the waiter before handing him his own. He doesn't need to hear the price, it's just a number, and you're worth more than all the mora in his bank account. No matter how ardently you can try to protest, he's committed to giving you what he knows you want—even if you hesitate to ask for it.

And watching from across the table how your eyes glimmer and beautiful cheeks turn rosy pink as the opulent flavors hit your tongue is more than enough compensation for him to recieve in return.

Neuvillette finds your financial prudence to be a quality of yours he actually quite admires. Too often, he sees thoughtless individuals land themselves in his court with grave, unsettled debts due to gambling or overspending, so your conscientiousness is to be commended!

However, when he is the one footing the bill, he sees no logical need for you to apply this virtue. He knows what he can afford, so you need not worry about it; and to see that telltale crease between your eyebrows as you worry yourself over what to choose on a menu with nothing priced less than ˙✧12500 mora, simply crushes him.

He can never sit right with himself when you have that anxious look on your face, it makes him feel like he’s failing as your partner. And over something so small as a handful of mora! He finds it necessary to talk you through the logic of the situation rather than your—for lack of better word—illogical fixation on a metaphysical number.

“Sweetheart,”, he calls in that soothing, deep vibration of his voice that feels like resting in the coolest, calmest waters of Fontaine, “I am the Chief Justice of Fontaine; as such, I’ve been entrusted to oversee both criminal and civil trials due to my ability to apply sound judgement to otherwise complex situations, unrivaled by anyone else in the nation.”

“…”, you sit quietly with your hands in your lap and blink at him, tongue-tied as his explanation begins to make perfect sense.

“…don’t you think I would have the discernment to manage my own finances?”, he concludes, hammering his claim into you with one last strike.

You have no rebuttal. He’s pinned you so effortlessly, it’s embarrassing. Sometimes, it’s a challenge to date a man with such vast practice in rhetorical argument.

Your worries being soothed with such tact actually makes you quite flustered, your cheeks and nose turning a soft shade of red as you pout in defeat.

The way your expression graduated from nervous to sheepish with just a few sentences of reasoning makes him chuckle, reaching out to lift your chin with the knuckle of his index finger with a cheery, but reserved smile on his face.

“Darling, I’ve brought you out tonight to spoil you. Do me the honor of having some fun while we’re here? There’s nothing more I want right now than to see your beautiful smile.”

You find it’s impossible to hold back the simper that blooms on your face from that remark, to which he smirks with pride.

This was the most fulfilling trial he’s held in a century.

[westaysilly]

Love ♡

click for better quality <3

no filter version + doodles under the cut ♡!

^clothes design by @7roaches !!!!!!!

[satirn]

hehehhee imangel zim for future chapters n stuff :3. [inspo song]

[moonstruckme]

Hey!! I’ve spent most of my day catching up on my reading goal for the year, on your blog. I love your writing!! I wanted to know if you could write something poly!marauders where the reader comes home from work early due to chronic pain (winter weather sucks sometimes), and the boys take care of them? Pls add your own spin however you see fit! Hope your day is going well! :)

And happy holidays!

Thanks so much lovely, you're too sweet <3

modern au

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

“Breathe, angel,” James reminds you, eyeing you worriedly as he sinks into downward dog. “Deep breaths.” 

“I’m breathing,” you sigh, following him down. The movement, the stress it puts on your legs and back, aches, but you feel better than you had when you’d come home. 

You weren’t expecting James to be here (he typically likes to get out of the house on his days off, too energetic and cabin-fever-prone to stay in) but he hasn’t let you have even a moment of peace since you’d come in the door, unannounced and several hours from the end of your workday. He’d first tried to get you to go on a walk, but the frigid weather outside is what had doomed you in the first place so he’d settled for pulling up a short, low-intensity yoga video on his laptop. 

A small part of you resents him for it, just a little. The smarter part of you is grateful. 

“Just a bit longer,” James says, likely sensing your growing discontent. “After this we can get you a warm bath. Or a massage, if you like.” 

You hum a weary thanks. Either of those sound great, but a nap would be spectacular. You want to evanesce. Sink into a sleep beyond pain. 

The serene voice on James’ laptop guides you into a cat-cow pose, but you’re only starting your first cat when you hear the click of the door opening. You turn to James in confusion. He won’t quite look at you. 

You recognize the loud clunking sound of Sirius kicking off his shoes a moment before he comes into view. 

“Ooh, yoga.” He’s smiling, but there’s a watchful quality to his gaze as he drapes himself across the sofa. “Mind an audience?” 

You shoot James an accusatory look. “Why’d you call him?” 

“Excuse me,” Sirius says, reclaiming your attention. “Do you not want me here?” 

You give up on the yoga, sitting on your mat. “I don’t want you to have to leave work,” you say quietly. 

Sirius tsks, sliding off the couch and moving closer to you. “I couldn’t have been productive while I was worried about you anyways. Figured I’d save my boss the money.” His smile slips, a tiny pucker appearing between his brows. “You alright for a hug?” 

You answer by opening your arms, and he gathers you up. He doesn’t squeeze the way he normally might, hands careful on your back, but it’s still nice. 

“How bad is it?” he asks, turning his face to mush the words lovingly into the side of your head. 

“Not bad,” you murmur. 

“I’d say it’s pretty bad,” James contends gently, “if you had to come home from work.” 

You turn your head to look at him, offering a sheepish shrug. “The yoga helped some.” 

James’ smile is lopsided, eyes flickering with relief behind his glasses. Sirius isn’t so easily convinced, loosening his grip on you so he can see your face. Despite how used to it you should be, it’s still an effort not to shrink under that gaze. You’re not sure what he’s looking for, if he finds it or he doesn’t, but a few moments later Sirius’ hands slide up to your face. He kisses the skin next to your nose lightly. 

“Let me make you some tea, sweet girl,” he says, standing. “You’ve had pain meds already, yeah?” 

You hum that you have, and James says after him, “Not the chamomile, it’ll just make her sleepy.” 

You try not to sulk as Sirius calls back, “I’m not new here, Potter.” 

James is trying to get you back into the yoga when the door opens a second time. If you hadn’t gotten there by process of elimination, the soft, considerate footfalls would have let you know who it was. 

“Oh, hi,” Remus says when he finds you and James already waiting for him. Pity softens his expression as his eyes fall on you. “How are you, dove? Is the yoga helping?”

“It was,” James grouses, though his little smile lets you both know he’s only teasing. He extends his arms out in front of him, beckoning with his hands. “Come here, give us a hug. She got to go first last time.” 

Remus doesn’t put up any argument. James stands as he comes forward, weaving one arm over Remus’ shoulders and the other under. 

“I am ailing,” you point out. When Remus angles his head on James’ shoulder to give you a concerned look, you add softly, “Not terribly, though.” 

Remus chuckles, pushing a spindly hand slowly up and down James’ spine. The other cups the back of his boyfriend’s head, sinking into his plush nap of curls. “I think you’ve worried him down to the bone,” he observes. 

There’s a noncommittal hum, followed by a muffled smacking sound as James kisses Remus’ shoulder. 

“Have you considered that I’m just soaking up all the hug I can get?” 

“Nefarious,” Remus murmurs lovingly. 

“I leave the room for two seconds, and of course a lovefest commences.” Sirius strides in with a steaming cup of tea. “It should be outlawed. I feel swindled and scorned.” 

“You got to go first,” James argues, but Remus extricates himself from his hold anyway, folding a leg under himself to sit on the couch. 

“Irrelevant.” Sirius sets your tea down on the coffee tables, using his free hand to wave James off. “Do either of you want tea?” 

“No thank you,” Remus says while James shakes his head. “You didn’t give her chamomile, did you? Because that will only—”

“No,” you all say, you rather mopily. 

You scoot towards the table and reach for your tea. Sirius settles into the couch, leaning his back against Remus’ side. 

“Alright,” James relents, shutting his laptop, “we can call it quits on the yoga. We were basically at the end of the video anyway.” His big hand lands on your shoulder, squeezing gently. “Want one of us to get a bath ready for you, lovie?” 

A whole new ache starts up, right in the center of your chest. You set your tea back on the coffee table, too hot to drink, and lean your head on James’ shoulder. Your throat clogs slightly. So, so sweet to you. A bath does sound nice, but you’re not sure you can commit to it. That’s at least a half hour between you and sleep. 

“Thank you,” you say, making sure he hears the sincerity in the words, “but I think I just want to go to bed.” 

James’ sigh is so soft you think you’re not meant to hear it. “It’s a bit early for that yet,” he says, thumb swiping back and forth on your shoulder. “How about a massage?” 

“I’m tired,” you complain, and you try not to whine but a bit of it comes through anyway.  

“I know, love,” Remus says, leaning his elbows onto his knees so that his face is nearly level with yours, “but if you nap now you won’t be able to sleep tonight, and then you’ll be tired all over again tomorrow.” He reaches across the coffee table, the tips of his fingers brushing yours. “This is to help you, I promise.” 

You let your little sigh fan cool air over your tea, raising it again to your lips as you nod. 

“Go for the massage,” Sirius says. He raises his eyebrows at you, grinning like he’s letting you in on some sort of secret. “Trust me, babe. Jamie missed his calling with that one. Hands of an angel.”

You look over, and James is grinning so hugely you wonder if his ears pop. “Alright, fine.” He shrugs, feigning reluctance. “After I’m done with her, you can have next turn.”