My canon is real

Jk btw, here's the real deal, lol.

Wesker: He is appalled by this abomination that is supposed to be him smiling. Because a) he rarely even smiles in the first place and b) on the rare occasions he does, he doesn't show his teeth. 0/10, will turn you into atoms for mocking him like that

Chris: Screeches like a freaking banshee and will punch your phone out of pure reflex. Will not regret doing so either

Jill: Stares in utter shock and disbelief because what in the name of the seven deadly sins is that?? How dare you put a curse on her that will haunt her bloodline for generations??

Brad: Also screeches and will call the cops on you (aka Jilly-bean), to have you dealt with, because clearly you are being a danger to society showing this horrific imagery of his boss to everyone

Joseph: Dies for real

Barry: “Heavens, that looks even worse than my mother-in-law when she smiles. And when she does, puppies literally die.” He is not happy and fears for his safety

Enrico: Will have a literal laughing fit and ask you to print it out a couple hundred times and decorate the halls of the RPD and especially Wesker's office with it (At least he's having fun with it)

Richard: Will have nightmares from now on thanks to that. Hope you're happy now that you essentially gave him his very own sleep paralysis demon

Forest: Will come to haunt you in retaliation for bestowing upon him The horrors and would rather have a murder of crows peck his eyes out than ever see something as horrific as that again

Kenneth: Is speechless for the rest of the day and will be wary of you from now on, because what the actual hell?? Why do you have such a picture? Where did you get that and most importantly, what could have possibly made Wesker smile like that??

Rebecca: Will call Billy and have him hunt you down.

Edward: He just stares at it in silence for a few seconds before looking back at you with a displeased frown, uttering a quiet “Why?”

Kevin: Lets out a shocked “Oh shit” and covers his mouth in complete shock. He never thought he’d ever want to avoid seeing anything as much as this sight.

Bonus:

Chief Irons:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Days seemed to stretch into weeks and those weeks into months. Jinx sat in the hovel she considered to be her home.

That was before Silco died. She tried so desperately to drown out any sense of the world, Jinx would fail miserably.

VI and her pretty little enforcer had split paths. Her sister was just as much a wreck as her. Her Piltie Princess on the other hand was doing miraculously well for someone who was just betrayed by their girlfriend.

Jinx had been out with Isha one day, both of them running around Zaun as carefree as they could. Spray painting walls and putting bows on random animals.

The sounds of Isha's lighthearted laughter was enough to bring an actual smile to Jinx's face. Not the fake shit she went around parading all the time.

The nape of her neck tingled, the pricking sensation never went away but she simply chose to ignore it. There were many prying eyes in Zaun, often those Jinxers.

After all, who expected Piltover's most wanted to be running rampant with a small child? Certainly not anymore in Zaun, and certainly not Caitlyn Kiramman.

It would start off small, Caitlyn finding the two running amok in the city. She didn't know why it made her stomach twist so pleasantly.

Despite it being towards Jinx she couldn't help but crave the feeling. She started to follow them. Now going out of her way to see what childish things they would get up to.

Seeing someone who she considered so monstrous being so soft was a welcome sight. Unnerving albeit, but welcome.

Caitlyn would leave small gifts. A few of her old clothes as a child that she never rid herself of, children's books, and for both of them she got acrylics and spray paint.

It would baffle Jinx, always so paranoid she would triple check to see if anything was tagged or bombed. Also suspicious of how her location had been compromised.

"Y'know, awfully suspicious how things seem to keep appearin' around here." She muttered one day, Isha poked her head out and made grabby motions at the bag of expensive paints.

Jinx gave in, eventually after so long of it going on she would simply hand the bag to Isha and stay posted outside. Looking for any clues on who the mystery merchant could be.

It took another month before Caitlyn was caught. Jinx worked tirelessly on a camera system from junk she had found.

It beeped to her as it detected movement. She specifically rigged it so that it wouldn't set off any loud alarms outside.

She snuck up into the rafters and popped out on the side of the building. Quickly dropping down onto the ground with a soft 'Plunk'.

"Care to tell me why the commander of Piltover is leaving gifts at my doorstep?" Jinx spoke, walking out of the shadows seamlessly.

The sigh was beyond unnerving for Caitlyn, but it was also so tantalizing. She hadn't realized just how mad the obsession with Jinx had taken her.

It had distorted her view of the girl, but seeing Jinx with Isha for the first time warped it even further. She was a mush of feelings that she didn't even know could exist.

That's why when she saw those glowing pink eyes staring at her she froze.

It wouldn't have been their last encounter. They grew closer, very slowly. Caitlyn having stopped her hunts for Jinx when it came to her task force. She simply redirected their efforts into stabilizing the order of law.

Noxus was eventually dismissed, the council restored. That didn't mean jack for a relationship. As peace settled for the nations unrest would stir between the two women.

"No Jinx, I can't just drop my work and come home." Caitlyn growled into the wall phone in her office. She was busy sorting through documents.

They bickered for the good part of an hour. Eventually Caitlyn sighed and hung up. She would later on regret that.

She found Jinx up on the roof as she was let out of her coach. She grumbled something under her breath about pink eyes idiots. But her tone still held all the love she had.

This wasn't their first spat, certainly one of the harsher ones. Caitlyn got herself comfortable before heading out onto the balcony Jinx was sitting over.

"You plan on making me climb up there?" She joked, getting no response from Jinx other than the humming of a song.

Caitlyn sighed for what felt like the billionth time today. She just barely managed to scrabble onto the roof. Boots slipping multiple times. Despite her athleticism climbing was not her strong suit.

For the first time she got a good look at Jinx. She was holding a utility knife, slowly tracing it over her arms.

It was barely hard enough to break skin, even then the shimmer sealed it right up. "You act like you hate me."

Her voice was soft but the words felt sharp. Caitlyn's chest felt like it was tightening in on itself.

"You know I don't."

Her reply was almost inaudible. The sound seemingly as fragile as the wind that danced lazily around them.

Pink eyes met blue, the blade tracing seemed to stop for the briefest moment. One could see the guilt in those icy blue depths.

"Everyone says, 'Actions speak louder than words'," Jinx looked back down to her wrists. The knife gleaming dully in the afternoon light, "I wish I could believe them."

They say quietly for a few minutes, Caitlyn at a loss for words and Jinx simply enjoying the silence. She had always thought of taking the easy way out but with Caitlyn and Isha it was now impossible.

The world seemed to hang from her shoulders. Caitlyn looked at Jinx again before speaking. "We both wish it was that simple. We both know it isn't."

She shuffled herself closer to Jinx, just enough so she could gently slide the blade from her hand. After that she quickly snapped it shut. Tossing the cheap metal weapon off of the roof.

Caitlyn let out a long sigh, she hated coming back to Jinx like this. She wasn't the best person to go to emotionally. It was something she always compartmentalized. Jinx was another of those people.

Both were struggling in their own ways but it was like the other was speaking a different language. VI had been right about being Oil and Water, she still felt guilty for that night.

Anything she bottled up often carried into day to day life. Her nervous shuffle, flinching at loud noises. The shower wasn't a help. Even knowing Jinx wasn't going to hurt her anymore.

Caitlyn looked at the silent Jinx, she slowly moved her hand as not to startle the girl. Gently brushing a stray strand of her hair.

"I might not be able to show that I care but I do."

Caitlyn pulled something out of her pocket. It was a small piece of paper with a number scrawled on it.

"It might be a long stretch, but I thought maybe we could try therapy? I found someone discreet and tight-lipped in Zaun." Caitlyn murmured softly, Jinx's eyes snapped back into focus, slowly swiveling to look down at the paper.

"Worth a shot." It was a halfheartedly shrug and an attempt at a joke. Jinx waggled her missing middle finger playfully.

Shimo had gotten used to feeling the air getting knocked out of her.

Each time the crystal sang its distorted song that pierced through her thoughts, her lungs felt like they too could shatter just like her mind came close to. But there, blinking her eyes clear of a daze she had been in for as long as she could remember, and standing over a familiar realm she had never thought she would be able to see again—she got that feeling without the accompanying ringing of torment.

Because beyond the mildly worrying sight of the approaching King and the Ape Skar had forced her to hurt, rushing through a vortex in a burst of golden light and soaring closer with that incoming charge, was Mothra.

She had forgotten what it felt like to feel something good bloom in her chest. She had forgotten what it felt like to long for the feeling of warmth that wasn't searing, to see light that wasn't blinding, to rush forward into that brightness with no fear of being burnt and no chains holding her back from escaping that scorching cage.

And seeing Mothra flying closer with her wings still gleaming with light brought such a deep feeling of hope, and glee, and relief and a sudden will—that it was bursting out of her as a roar, a call, a plea. Skar startled on top of her, his hand tightening warningly around a crest on her head, but she paid it no mind. Only shook her head and shrugged the touch away. Her heart was singing inside of her, just waiting for a duet to join in. Pain didn’t matter anymore, Mothra was right there.

But she heard the clacking of bones clinking against each other, saw the flash of aged white from the corner of her eyes, and when the pain came it wasn’t a surprise. She just wished she could have held her pain back so Mothra wouldn’t hear it.

When the daze let her go from its sharp talons, the sudden answering boom of Mothra’s trill ripping through the grove wasn’t what she had expected and dreamed of for millenia. It was angry, anguished, rageful—so unlike Mothra. But it was still Mothra’s voice. Her beautiful trills and croons and chirps that echoed and echoed in the winds like the air itself was always hesitant to let her go too.

Mothra answered her and her heart bloomed with glee. A soft brush of something gentle and kind nudged at her mind and she welcomed it even after so long, even after coming to hate and fear anything that came close to her thoughts, after knowing only the pain and agony that came with it. There was the ghost of anger in that faint nudge, a whisper of seething fury. But that rage was not directed at her.

Skar pulled at her crest again, reeled her head back and brandished the crystal forward. And she blinked and tried to focus through the numbing pain, teeth clenching together as he urged her forward towards—what? Towards the King? The Ape? Towards... Mothra?

No.

No.

She refused.

Order her to turn against her King. Order her to hurt an Ape who had done nothing to deserve it and stared at her with the kindest eyes she had seen in so long. Chain her, beat her, ride her to battle—do as he had and more, but he would not make her hurt her Queen. Let the crystal shatter her mind into a million pieces, she would not care. At least Mothra would be the last sight she would see.

Thrashing and shaking her back, she snatched her crests away from Skar’s hold and bucked. Her defiance got her another burst of piercing pain, ringing so deep and sharp the crystals on her back screamed and screeched as that one stolen piece of her hurt her own body. But she still refused. When Skar whipped at the ground next to her feet, she refused to move. When he tugged at her head and kicked at her sides, she still refused to step forward. And when he brandished the crystal again, she pushed herself up and stood with a roar ripping through her chest.

Skar's warriors crowded around and reached for her, their fingers dug into her scales as they pushed her down, but then they quickly ripped their hands away when the cold she projected bit their skin. And yet Skar still would not fall, would not let go, even as she kicked and turned her head to snap at what she could reach of him, he still clung to her crests and held on.

But focused as she was on getting him off, she hadn’t noticed the sound of strong wings whipping against the wind. Not until they were much closer, not until she stood in just the right way to block the sight that filled her eyes. And as those wings came to life with a bright glow, she slammed her paws back down and leaned forward.

Mothra’s roar echoed as the following pulse of wind slammed Skar back. And while she was still pulling herself up and turning around to look at the fallen Ape, grunts and choked roars reached her ears as she caught the moment those warriors fell back on the ground. Mothra’s silk held them tight as they kicked and struggled.

Skar growled as he pulled and pushed himself up, quickly looking from side to side, his eyes narrowed at the sight of his fallen warriors. She braced herself when his eyes slid to her.

With a snarl, he shook his head and wrung his whip around his hand. Her eyes lingered on the crystal clutched between his fingers. But Skar was too focused glancing behind her—at the approaching King and the Ape that challenged him no doubt—and she used the opportunity to allow herself the chance to be distracted too and look at the skies behind his back. Where Mothra gracefully flew in an arc to turn back to them. Antennae glued to her head. Claws brandished.

When she turned her eyes back towards Skar, his eyes were just focusing on her again too, and she saw the moment he caught where she had been looking at in the small pinch around his eyes. She didn’t let herself think much before taking in a deep breath and letting her ice leave her as a roar. Memories of pain rushed through her mind, of the agony that followed every time she had ever fought back against the crystal’s influence. A quick, horrible flash of a scene, of Skar turning his whip around and towards Mothra, flashed behind her eyelids. But she did not think. She only felt, and let that feeling strengthen her breath as it grew colder and stronger. The crystal shone in Skar’s hand. Between one blink and another, he dashed to the side and brandished the damned thing while her ice missed just shy of hitting his shoulder. Her ears rang, pain pushed and pulsed behind her eyes—but it was enough.

The distraction had been enough.

Silk hugged Skar from behind in a blink, and Mothra brushed past him with enough force to knock him forward. He struggled and kicked, snarled and growled, but the silk didn’t let up. And try as he might to reach for the crystal with his feet, it still laid too far away.

But she noted that with just a fleeting glance. She had more important things to pay attention to.

Mothra came to a stop in front of her with a single elegant beat of her wings. She closed her eyes as the winds whipped at her face, lifting up blades of grass and tiny rocks that flew around her, but the strength behind each flap of her wings soon disappeared. When she opened her eyes again, Mothra fluttered in front of her. And Shimo fought back the wail trying to escape her as she leaned forward. So many years. So many dreams. So many wishes. There was so much she needed to say, so much she wanted to hear and do and feel again.

Mothra’s claws clicked softly against her scales as she settled on her snout. Her fur so soft to the touch, her wings opened wide and glowing with bright bursts of color, and her eyes—her beautiful eyes—shone so brightly and squeezed together when she leaned forward to nuzzle at her snout.

Heavy steps came from behind her in a pair, but she did not worry. Mothra hadn’t reacted in any way, so she was safe. She knew everything was alright when Godzilla appeared at her side. He looked different. Leaner, his crests sharper and their color a warmer tone. But the eyes that met hers were just the same. If not much older. Kinder. Understanding.

Godzilla held Mothra’s eyes for a quiet moment, a silent conversation happening between them with that one glance, and Mothra chirped a lilting tone. Soft, in a way that sounded almost encouraging. Godzilla grumbled deep in his throat in response, his eyes sliding away from Mothra to rest on her instead. And then he stepped closer to her, his nostrils flared as he sniffed the air, until he closed the distance between them to press his snout against the top of her head. Mothra crooned and reached a claw out to Godzilla too, her wings opening to rest against his back. And Shimo closed her eyes and accepted the touch, leaned further into it, and grumbled a quiet airy sound of her own.

Safe, that touch told her, she was safe now. And she believed it.

When she opened her eyes, the Ape she had hurt stood in front of Skar. A little Ape stood next to him, a tiny hand clinging to his leg while he silently watched as Skar snarled and spat at them both. The little one was familiar. Sometimes, in those quiet and rare times they met and held each other’s eyes, she felt they understood each other. The other’s pain. The other’s prison. The other’s captor. She was there when he got the scar.

The Ape she hurt stepped back with a last blank look at Skar, and seemed to only then notice the whip lying on the ground next to his feet. He kneeled down, took it, and delicately held the crystal between his fingers, turning it as it caught the light. It whispered cruelly to her as it glinted and winked, and she must have flinched or tensed, because Mothra crooned a soothing tune and caressed her scales with a gentle claw. And Godzilla, rumbling a quiet sound deep in his chest, pulled himself away to stand taller, eyes fixed on the Ape.

The soft sounds drew the Ape’s attention. Their eyes met for a quiet and heavy moment—she thought of him cowering away from her, hand clutching at his other ruined one—and with the crystal held between them, the Ape closed his armored fist around it and crushed it, letting the shards rain to the grass below as he opened his palm again.

All at once, the tension in her body left as a sigh. Godzilla grumbled beside her, something surprised but approving in his eyes. And Mothra tilted her head to chirp at the Ape, before something caught her eye and she slipped down her snout to flutter away, a last apologetic coo following her as she went. But when she followed Mothra with her eyes, the Ape was stepping closer, palms open and reaching for her.

She only worried for a second, one irrational second that had her freezing and tensing, but she blinked, felt Godzilla’s presence still hovering close. And after a quick deep breath, leaned forward to press her snout to the Ape’s armored palm. His touch was gentle but firm, and guilt crawled at her chest to know what she had done to the skin under the strange thing clinging to his hand. But he didn’t seem to be in pain, and when she looked at his face, he didn’t seem to hold a grudge either.

A sharp chattering of mandibles had them all looking at Mothra again, where she stood on top of Skar, reinforcing the silk webbing him down that had just begun to fail against his constant struggling. And with a last hiss and a sharp flick of her claw at his face, Mothra batted her wings and glided to her again. Her brows relaxing back into a soft look, her antennae fluttering as they eased back into a relaxed position, those sharp claws tucked in so Mothra could hug her snout again and press closer.

Godzilla and Kong stepped closer to Skar, side by side, while the little one did his best to imitate the way Kong stood. And she turned her head up, stood on her hind legs and held Mothra like a star she had plucked from the skies. Mothra cooed sweetly, that familiar melody she used to sing when sleep refused to come to her. And Shimo pushed aside all thoughts of Skar from her mind. The crystal laid in pieces in the grass, Skar was doing his best to avoid Godzilla’s heavy glare, and she was busy staring into Mothra’s eyes like they were the skies she hadn’t seen in millions and millions of years. The song Mothra cooed nestled itself deep in her heart, deep in her mind, as it changed and shaped itself into words, and feelings, and lovely memories and a deep sense of belonging.

My love, Mothra cooed; soft as the clouds, warm like the sun. And her heart sung back.