theme
     T Y R A N T

he was never more SINISTER
than when he was most polite.


albert wesker as written by diya.
est. october 2012.

| |
DO NOT STEAL or MIMIC ANY OF MY MATERIAL.


semi-private ✖ selective
paragraph to novella length.




Slept So Long
Jay Gordon - Queen Of The Damned - Played 2,951 times.
2900 follower giveaway ;

immortalcorrupter:

as a thank you to my friends & followers, i am pleased to announce an impromptu giveaway, as i have always highly enjoyed creating graphics of all kinds. i just want to give back to the community that has already given me so much and shown me such kindness. just what are the prizes?

i offer ONE WINNER A FULLY CUSTOMIZED THEME, CODED FROM SCRATCH ( original code, i do not do heavy edits on pre-existing codes ) & with its respective background graphic based on the mood of the blog and character being portrayed.

TWO MORE WINNERS will each receive a pack of 40 icons of the respective character/faceclaim, either raw or with colorings/borders/textures, your call.

RULES? you must be following me, no exceptions. only reblogs count, 1 per blog & you have until october 7th to participate.

examples of finished themes ; 

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examples of icons ;

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Then let me eat your heart, Ophelia, which sheds my tears.
Heiner Müller, Hamletmachine (via lifeinpoetry)
/scratches at. If you ever decide to take icon commissions - let me know? I don't want to reblog the giveaway because I can make my own - best saved for people who can't, but I'd still love to have some of your beauties on day! SO YEAH. ♥ Also hoping you're having a good day. c:
whispers kodomotsuki

i do take commissions! thank you for sending this ask, as it gave me the opportunity to be clear and get the word out there for now, at least until i can get up my commissions masterpost with basic pricing ( prices are negotiable based on the complexity of the project and the time i’ll have to invest ) and paypal information and whatnot.

i offer theme commissions ( custom code + graphic, please keep in mind i will NOT use fan-art for paid graphics because i don’t want to make a profit off others’ work, only live-action screencaps/game screencaps/anime screencaps and official art, etc. ) i also do overall graphic commissions, such as online/offline banners, icons, promo banners, url graphics, anything you’d like.

if anyone is interested you can contact me privately about the matter to reserve slots before i post the masterpost! thank you also for showing interest!

2900 follower giveaway ;

as a thank you to my friends & followers, i am pleased to announce an impromptu giveaway, as i have always highly enjoyed creating graphics of all kinds. i just want to give back to the community that has already given me so much and shown me such kindness. just what are the prizes?

i offer ONE WINNER A FULLY CUSTOMIZED THEME, CODED FROM SCRATCH ( original code, i do not do heavy edits on pre-existing codes ) & with its respective background graphic based on the mood of the blog and character being portrayed.

TWO MORE WINNERS will each receive a pack of 40 icons of the respective character/faceclaim, either raw or with colorings/borders/textures, your call.

RULES? you must be following me, no exceptions. only reblogs count, 1 per blog & you have until october 7th to participate.

examples of finished themes ; 

image

image

image

image

examples of icons ;

image

— furious angels.

( protege )

image

I’ll take that under advisement, professor. ’ It’s an acquiescent response, framed by a lazy uptick of his lips in what might have passed as a smile but was more closely natured to a challenge, albeit an amiable one. A man less likely to wreck himself than Vincent Moretti, there were few; a man more likely to decimate Vincent than Albert Wesker, however—of those there were none. Still, whatever degree of distance the elder might maintain, whatever manner of reserve he held between himself and others, Wesker was more than tolerant of him even at his worst. Fond, even.

Sable eyes followed the elder out of the room, then found themselves something else to focus on, but only for as long as it took for Wesker to return freshly attired; the man came in adjusting his tie and Vincent’s gaze was inexorably drawn back to his mentor. 

‘ The car’s fine with me. ’ He rose from his spot on the couch, smoothing his own tie (a darker crimson, by no coincidence) and buttoning his suit jacket closed absently. He crossed the room at a saunter to join Wesker, fell into his customary spot at the man’s elbow (a fraction of a step behind him, but always beside him) and offered him the ghost of a boyish smirk. 

‘ After you. ’

Whatever paradox they carried with them went unspoken, but it was found lingering with stolen glances, snarky remarks, sides brushing in their close physical proximity but Albert didn’t care, something uncharacteristic considering his natural aversion to touch. But he had known the younger for nigh a couple decades by now ( still remembered the way Vincent’s hand shot up with a response to his every question, Professor, pick me! ) and he resigned himself to a certain placidity found only with decent company and conversation. They were constantly at the game of chess and their respective Kings were set to be swapped mid-game whenever they so chose, only to begin again from square one much to the satisfaction of both. He would never admit it to anyone, let alone the boy himself ( who took a chip off the old block with that ego ) that the latter was the single best choice as his protégé and heir to his gargantuan Pharmaceutical Empire when he chose to hang up the coat.

Mentor and mentee were an unstoppable force when together, their combined brain-power enough to bring the world to its knees and they knew it, but they would only act on such a whim in small, subtle increments, their business deals kept under the counter and well concealed from the prying eyes of the government and the B.S.A.A ; though the United States fit so very well in his iron fist that the blond Tyrant, at one point, had considered wading into the foul river that was Politics if only to claim the title of POTUS for his own full-to-bursting resume. But he had shaken it off and gone back to scribbling away in his Virology journal, for Science always took precedent over everything else —

Well, almost everything.

His fingers, gloved as always, kept a firm grip on the wheel as they traversed the bustling streets of the City that Never Sleeps, light Sinatra playing in the background ( undoubtedly something Vincent’s cheek had suggested ; he knew how much Wesker enjoyed the music. ) Collateral damage all wrapped up in a neat package of Kiton, he sighed as hundreds of minuscule lights blinked into existence soon thereafter the sunset. The Mercedes glided to a stop soon enough between Madison and Park Avenue, a valet rushing to treat the restaurant’s most honorable guests while the tell-tale flashes of cameras hailed the two Tycoons. He kept a brisk pace, a close-lipped faux-smile fixed to his features, a perfect mask for the public.

It was only when they were seated in a corner booth did he give a monumental roll of his eyes, knowing their pictures would, once again, be stamped all over the New York Times and other publications come bright and early the next morning: Albert Wesker and Vincent Moretti: The Continuing Saga of America’s top Frienemies. The truth was a lot more complex than that but he couldn’t be arsed to let the Paps know a single thing about his private life.

 There are elephants trampling around inside my head-space. I feel pity in advance for my secretary tomorrow. ❞ A half-hearted grumble, but even a scowl didn’t look the part on his physiognomy ; the overhead lights made the harlow gold of his hair gleam as though it really were that precious metal

image

                   if you want a
                   m o n s t e r,
                   i  can  show
                   you             a
                   f  u  c  k i n g 
                   ( MONSTER )

[ ♔ ] meet the puppeteer

name: diya.
height: 5’5”.
eye color: dark brown. 
birthday: 7th of february.
favorite color: black, red, gold & purple.
best school subject(s): english & history & art.
current shirt color: pink.
day or night: night.
religion: bruh.
gender: sometimes a girl sometimes a guy w/e.
sexual orientation: gayyyy unless you’re zane holtz.
single or taken: taken by ohtyrannicide & viralpatriarch.
celebrity crush: yaaas.
coffee or tea: both but i really dig cappucino.
favorite food: indian food.





Mercenary
Panic! At The Disco - Batman: Arkham City – The Album - Played 31,251 times.

mercenary — panic! at the disco

— paraeidolia.

jillvalxntine:

The hand rose within the very instant the beast before her spoke his ever enticing words, the lethal weapon aimed directly at his chest as her heart danced, practically thundered within her own.

However, the finger that tightened almost desperately around the simple piece of curved metal, the trigger that would set off a chain of mechanical workings, could not so much as twitch in compliance with what she knew that she ought to do. She told herself she did not fire because to do so was pointless, that this creature in all of his sickening glory would remain entirely unharmed even if he hadn’t bothered to dodge the metal death sentence fired his way.

Jill denied to herself then that there was no choice in this… She couldn’t fire, even if she wanted to. The woman, she told herself that she simply obeyed logic, not desire.

Lips parted, breath sucked between them as her sky blue eyes stared without wavering at the man who had once held her trust, now shamelessly broken, all of these years later. Her expression surely was traitor to her thoughts though she remained oblivious of such things.

Teeth grit, palms sweat and finally… Finally words were spewed pointlessly.

What could be said that wasn’t already spoken or revealed to be a lie?

"Albert Wesker, I hereby place you under arrest with the authority bestowed upon me by the B.S.A.A.-"

You wont arrest him.

"Raise your hands and keep them where I can see the-"

He wouldn’t let you if you tried.

"-nything you say can and will be-"

Stop talking.

Stop.

The firearm, that same Beretta that she had somehow managed to keep at her side since the Mansion Incident, her good luck charm of sorts, faltered ever so slightly.

Her deep-seated antipathy did absolutely nothing to wipe the lethiferous smile that twisted his handsome features thereafter her anxiety-laden outburst. Feminine pitch wavered with her uncertainty and he had absolutely no desire to shift their current situation anywhere near her favor ( not like he allowed that in regard to anyone ) ; she stood upon and within his steel-and-concrete demesne with hackles raised akin to a hound, but she garnered not a single semblance of sympathy ( as he was nigh incapable of that psychological phenomenon anyway, it was useless to even attempt at comprehending such mundane concepts. ) Never would it be claimed that Albert Wesker was an impatient man, oh, but his infinite patience was just another attribute that made him such a deadly individual — it stretched betwixt whole timelines and constructs, both his own and his opponents’ with all the flexibility of a feline, an extension of its master.

The cold, business end of metal facing him was, at this point, common and second-nature for him to stare down ; he still had phantom sensations left over from the last time one had pressed against his pallid temple ( and it gave him a sick rush in knowing that the bullet would never find home, not even at point blank range. ) The puppet, how her hands faltered and quivered as a leaf in the wind…! He stood, taking his s w e e t time with gloved hands indeed uplifting to face her, palms-first and slightly above his head.

His new genesis had already been at hand, come to fruition in the most subtle and equally diabolical of ways. Even as they spoke the W-serum devised of his own thick, tar-like blood was within the inner systems of countless soldiers and militia men and women around the entire world. And they all benefited from the King Cobra’s venom, unknowing that at any given moment in time he could issue his mental command ( that silent link betwixt B.O.W.’s created from the same viral strain ) and they would stand at attention to him in a similar fashion the Lickers heeled when their leader, the sole humanoid Tyrant came into their vicinity.

 Your antics are charming at best and lackluster at worst, and I wager this performance borders on the latter

Painfully casual was his body-language as he slid from behind his desk, suit-clad body calm and controlled for her to witness.

You are simple meat that can be devoured any second, my dear.

His hands dropped down to his sides.

 Place the gun down on the desk, Jill. I don’t enjoy clichéd count-down warnings. 

The erstwhile Captain recognized it as their S.T.A.R.S.-issued custom Kendo-crafted Beretta 92FS and it only made it all that much better.

image

— the horror of our love.

( wretched )

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