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Which tag of AO3 are you?
What can I say: that's more than right! And this is so perfect for Alex and Albert Wesker.
Tagged by @bhaal-battle-beer-bard (thank you so much!)
I tag @doctor-hannibal-wesker, @thetentaclecommander, @judasiskariot @moonrausis, @grrreve, @jvgotic, @imnotwholewithoutyou, @aveimperator40k and anyone who wants to try.
You can find the quiz here!
which ao3 tag are you?
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Oldsker has scars and prosthetics from Shards of Obsidian On the threshold of despair he reached for the unknown. Every time, looking into a new abyss, he noticed how emptiness absorbs him. He did not know where the illusion ends, and the truth begins... where is his true self? And what awaits him, having just been appointed Captain. Discovery or inevitable failure? One thing he knew for sure - nothing is easy. The storm that only he could see was overwhelming, and it foresaw something that could not be appreciated or understood. It was just a feeling of something that was not visible, coming. The truth was known only by one who stood behind him. But only because in reality, he was really far ahead.
stupid shit me and my friend did on magma
It's getting colder!
Dress properly and drink more hot tea! Favorite Weskercest chilling (warming up haha) together.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Is she a good witch or a bad witch?
CM for @damadisangue 💕
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Her skin is a tapestry of red and purple hues — imprints of his desire, reflections of his hunger. Wesker traces the pattern with his fingertips, lingering on the small dip just above her hips. Alex laughs — a light, carefree sound — and buries her face in the pillow, sighing. She is a memory of blood and flesh, his sister, and when he breathes, he can still taste her under his tongue, down his throat. The virus will erase those stigmata; it has already begun to do so as he traces her vertebrae one by one, brushing the nape of her neck with a gentle touch that, to anyone else, would feel like a threat. The virus will make her skin flawless again — pale and smooth, as though it had never belonged to him, as though he had never desecrated it, turning her into a canvas of crimson and violet. The virus demands them immaculate, whole: the pinnacle of an evolution that had only made them too much — ambitious and selfish, fierce and ruthless. Wesker leans over her, looming above, burying his face in her hair. Alex smiles, closing her eyes and stretching beneath him — soft, warm. The virus could never take this away from him.
Stunning art from the talented Ericson
