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"Never before have I encountered a creature so utterly repulsive — "

@lasplaga : " sit down before you fall down. "

exhaustion has rattled his body, much too busy working on the newest modifications of the plagas to get any sleep, much less drink anything than horrible coffee ( brewed up for himself in his lab ) and smoke cigarettes during this time. when saddler had come to his lab for presumably information on the new modification of the virus and what it could do to its hosts if infected by it, luis had nearly toppled over, the sudden rush of standing up making him lightheaded. a sheepish smile forms to lips as he waves his hand dismissively, he appreciates the concern. ❛ i'll be fine, you see this is much more important. don't you want to know about the new progress i've made ? ❜ a brow ticks up as eyes flick over to saddler, part of him wonders if it's really a good thing that he's working so hard on this. surely he had ever reason to trust saddler.

❛ i am your god and your executioner. ❜

"That so?"

He flips the knife in his hand, catching it effortlessly by the handle. If he could charge for each time someone proudly declared themselves his killer then wouldn't he be a rich man. Pity that time has never managed to deter any of them.

His expression darkens briefly in consideration. "Not much of a God if you took this much time to try and stop me."

Are there some characters from the franchise you can’t stand? What’s the worst thing about the fandom? [ SPILL ]

Oh my. Um...okay, sorry RE7 and 8 folks, but I'm not crazy about them. The Dimitrescu sisters? Can't tell them apart. It's just copy/paste times 3. Ethan is a bland, boring character and Mia? Stop acting like she's innocent. She's a bio-terrorist. I also don't really care much at all for Steve Burnside. Maybe if they ever remake Code: Veronica, they'll improve him some.

And worst thing about the fandom? Uh...the ones that think the best in the series are the games that had tank controls. I think it got better when it went more actiony, but the older fans disagree and will still argue that RE4/5 aren't "real" RE games.

But I do that about RE7/8.

@lasplaga​ asked:  " Why do you defy me? Have you no compassion? "

  hah. a harsh laugh escaped red lips. this was the funniest joke that she’s heard in a while. “ oh... i’m so sorry. i know laughing at you also doesn’t show the compassion. “ heels click on the surface as she walks a bit closer to saddler. the great lord saddler. black gloved fingers wrap around her gun, but she doesn’t hold it up to him, she doesn’t truly defy him -- not quite yet.

  “ it’s nothing personal of course, precious. “ the voice that leaves her lips almost sounds like a mother talking to her baby. “ i just think it’s finally time i take what is mine and leave. “ a pause as she tilts her head to the side, a smirk toying at edges of her lips. “ i’m sure you understand. “

" Feed on their weakness, such pitiful imperfections. These apostates must be taught. "

krauser isn't a religious man , but he thinks he's been seeing god lately. saddler's gift thrums in his veins ― can feel it breathing beneath his skin. sights , sounds ! all of his senses heightened , & the lord's reach inescapable , even in his own head. when he speaks , the major hangs on every word. what a privilege it is to be a blade for him : an angel for the heretical lord.

upon a knee he waits , bowed before the master as a disciple should be. ❛ i am yours to command. ❜ dedication declared , an eager hound ― longing to give chase to rabbits.

❥         𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐋'𝐒      𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆      𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄     (    ₂₀₀₅   )     ﹔accepting.

@lasplaga asked: ❝ you’re being so obedient. ❞

It   was   violating   how   this   man...   or   rather...       'thing'   corrupted   her.   -   Ashley   obviously   wanted   no   part   in   his   atrocious   plan   but   her   body   did   exactly   what   he   wanted.

Such   a   terrifying   thing,   having   no   control   over   your   own   movements.   -   At   least   her   mind   was   still   clear.   ...(   for   now)

"N-No   ...."   she   spoke   through   clenched   teeth,   tears   stinging   at   the   corners   of   her   eyes.   "S-Top   ....   stop   ....-"   as   frightening   as   things   were...   she   knew   she   had   to   fight!   If   Saddler   got   his   way   the   world   would   be   doomed!

....Just   a   little   longer   -   she   only   had   to   wait   a   little   longer   and   then   Leon   would   burst   in.

She   could   hold   out   until   then....right?

{ 🕶️ }  ━  @lasplaga​​  sent  :  “ the question isn’t ‘who am i ?’ the question is where am i ? ”

How  cute.  Behind  his  dark  sunglasses,  it  was  near  impossible  to  see  the  roll  of  his  eyes  he  gave  to  the  "strangers"  cryptic  message.  So  this  had  to  be  the  one  &  only  Osmund  Saddler.  The  man  he  had  heard  about  from  the  Organisation,  a  charismatic  cult  leader  who  had  taken  charge  of  this  little  backwater  community  and  a  bit  of  an  expert  on  the  creatures  known  only  as  "Plaga".  He  was  here  due  to  the  Organisation's  interests  in  these  new  bioweapons  but,  far  more  importantly,  his  OWN  ever-growing  interest.  

His  "handlers"  had  their  own  agents  sulking  around  in  the  hopes  of  collecting  data  &  a  sample  of  these  "Plaga".  Their  efforts  underhanded  a  quite  roundabout.  However,  as  of  his  observations,  Wesker  wasn't  sure  if  this  was  the  best  method  to  obtain  what  was  sought.  He  was  opting  for  a  slightly  more  direct  approach,  at  least  as  far  as  his  own  intentions  went.  He  didn't  care  much  for  the  Organisation  or  its  goals.  They  were  only  a  means  to  achieve  his  own  ends.  

There  was  something  about  Saddler.  Something  that  told  Wesker  he  was  no  mere  man.  Perhaps  it  merely  came  down  to  game  knowing  game  but  Wesker  was  quite  certain  of  his  suspicions.  Even  if  he  was  wrong,  the  community  here  still  revered  him  like  a  god.  That  was  worthy  enough  of  some  kind  of  praise.   

❝  Hide  and  seek ? ❞  he  asks,  the  amusement  clear  in  his  voice. ❝ I  would  have  thought  men  of  our . . .   Disposition  beyond  such  a  thing.  Its  nice  to  know  some  of  us  retain  such  spirited  whimsy. ❞

❝ you’re plotting something, aren’t you? come on then - out with it. ❞

Caspian cannot help but laugh softly. It is good natured, genuine, the sort of laugh one gives when they know they have nothing to fear and no judgement will be cast, for the other knows them better than they themselves.

And who knows him better than Lord Saddler? His mind and body alike are open books to be thumbed through gladly. Caspian's faith and devotion were not implanted, not products of The Plaga's influence upon him (though truthfully, now there was no degree of seperation between parasite and host as there had once been). No; Caspian had believed in The Holy Body's power even before he had stumbled into Lord Saddler's embrace.

"Am I so obvious, My Lord?" Caspian asks as he bows his head, the faintest of smiles playing on his lips. His Plaga (he) writhes slightly with pleasure, vibrating in the presence of Saddler's all-consuming might.

"I find my thoughts drawn back to some of our earlier works." He begins gently, the journal in his hands being neatly closed and placed upon the table he was sat at. "Our initial experiments on the Island that we conducted were-... clumsy and ill-refined as we sought to better understand The Holy Body. In that regard, I looked into what was done in Africa."

He inhaled, the sort of sound one makes when they do not wish to say what comes next.

"And I am-... impressed with what they accomplished. Even if the reasons were nothing short of blasphemous. As we continue to rebuild, I wonder if it might be an avenue you wish explored in our way, My Lord."

𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

@lasplaga asked: ❛ it’s the silence that scares me. ❜

ೃ⁀➷ Getting the one up on Ada Wong wasn't an easy feat, but it certainly wasn't impossible. Saddler had one very significant advantage over the spy: she was sure he was dead. Catching her off guard during a job was easier than it should have been for him. The last thing she remembered was that voice before everything went black.

It was that voice that echoed in her head as she slowly came to. A groan escaped the brunette as her head pounded in pain. The first thing she registered was that she was sitting down. The chair was metal and cold. Her hands, she quickly realized, were tied behind her back. That information was enough to jolt her back to consciousness. She blinked and stared at the man, lips parting in surprise as she realized who her captor is.

"I don't know," she said, trying to regain her cool. "I could think of a couple more things scarier than silence." What could he want? She didn't know if this was for revenge or if he knew that she'd stolen a sample of the amber.... and kept it from Wesker.

@lasplaga TO CONDOR ONE. BANDERSNATCH PROMPTS.

i've given you the knowledge . i've set you free . do you understand ?

Scarce moment of clarity,  though still shattered and gnarled akin to a mirror smashed  (  after the reflection stared back at you for a bit too long  ).  What remains between reality and the parasite-induced hallucinations tearing through his skull and dripping into the world around him is a thin veil pulled over the straying agent’s bloodshot eyes.  Welcomed by the void swallowing up the tall embellished columns fallen from their dim  &  distant triumph of the better days the village had seen,  he waddles forward enclosed by the stalagmites morphing their forms and shapes with each blink.  The knife adjusting in the white-knuckled grasp,  the grating sound of Saddler’s voice echoes down the dismal waterway and sends an arrow-like tremor through the intricate webbing of his system,  striking each nerve ending.  But he resists.  As depleting as it is.

“  Change the tune,  Saddler,  ”  he barks back,  assuming the position to slash whatever dares collide with him.  Blade facing outward,  gaudy lime eyes flashing in the water and vanishing,  joined by the flutter of wings.  “  I thought cult leaders were supposed to be charismatic,  ”  Leon challenges,  looking around the vast darkness while wading towards the flickering light at the tunnel’s end.  How symbolic.  Could he even hear him?  Is he even around or simply riddling his brain the very same way he does with his disciples?  Climbing up slippery cracked stone stairs,  a waft of chilly air hits his clothes soaked to the last thread.  Back close to the wall,  he listens out for more worthless aphorisms.  At last,  or alas,  quiet.  “  Was it something I said?  Come out and let’s really talk.  ”

@lasplaga

❝  you belong to me.  ❞

          𝘁𝗵𝗲  𝗴𝗼𝗱'𝘀  𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄  𝗴𝗮𝘇𝗲  𝗳𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀  𝘂𝗽𝗼𝗻  𝘁𝗵𝗲  𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗿.  𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗲  𝘀𝗶𝗹𝘃𝗲𝗿  𝗼𝗿𝗯𝘀  𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗲  𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁  𝗮  𝘄𝗮𝘆  𝗼𝘂𝘁  𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴  𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲'𝘀  𝗮𝗻  𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗮𝗽𝗲  𝗿𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗲  𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲,  being  just  out  of  sight  ;  that  with  enough  effort  &&.  planning,  she  could  flee  the  rotten  body's  filthy  grip.

          when  she  was  seven,  miriam  considered  herself  stronger.  harder  to  brainwash  &&.  manipulate.  nowadays,  she  almost  believes  them  —  ramon,  saddler,  the  monks  and  whatnot.  perhaps  she  really  is  what  they  deem  her  to  be  ;  a  saviour,  a  goddess  ;  a  holy  body  &&.  mind  to  be  worshipped  till  the  end  of  time.

          which  is  never.  the  plagas  parasite  slows  aging  so  much  it  seems  like  the  hosts  are  immortal.  and  she's  more  than  mortal  —  she's  tired,  starved,  drugged,  resigned,  unable  to  think  straight.  on  the  verge  of  death.  she  doesn't  want  to  die.

          am  i  broken  already?,  she  questions.  am  i  still  me?

          lord  saddler's  —  no,  wait.  saddler's,  just  saddler's  words  do  not  sound  right.  something's  wrong  ;  more  than  usually.  thought  process  takes  ages,  newest  gears  in  a  quantum  computer  now  rusty  and  damaged  yet  still  working  start  to  turn.  what  did  he  say?

          with  the  calmest  voice  she  can  muster  after  hours  of  weeping  &&.  tone  hoarse,  the  one mistaken for divine  being  defies  the  false  priest.  ❝  no,  my  dear  child.  you  belong  to  me.  ❞

" You don't scare me. "

"Good."

He doesn't taunt. Does not waste his time in asking the reason why. Like every move he makes, the words that come fourth from HUNK are calculated and sharp.

He is not shaking. Though, he suspects that brings the other disappointment more than it does delight. Stiff as a steel bar - rigid, unphased by the horror that while he cannot fully see, he does anticipate all the same.

If a voice could be a knife, why wouldn't his be the sharpest?

He grips the weapon in his hang. Holding it just secure enough that any false moves would be quickly repaid in full.

"I assume the feeling is mutual then."

"O' God! Festering Almighty of plagues! Hear your servants' prayer! Look upon the devastation I have wrought, the diseases I have spread, the unbelievers I have infested with your suppurating truth! I beg of your favor and boon, that I might strike all the harder to spread your blessing across the stars!"

"'Oh Gahd' is right," he thought to himself, breaking out another glass of whiskey and rolling up a hundred-dollar bill as he heard these miserable, ceaseless prayers. "Moah like 'oh brothah.'"

The voices never stopped. The crying, the praying, the pleading. Was that break in suppressants all it took and now there would be no silence or thoughts to himself anymore? Maybe he'd have to beg TRICELL to double, maybe triple, the dose. He downed the shot glass of alcohol then followed it with a nose candy chaser.

@lasplaga

( @lasplaga asked: don't leave me in the dark. ▶ "TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON" PROMPTS / always accepting! )

it's impossible to be here by accident. the old pathways for hikers have grown over — the region under a persistent quarantine to keep unsuspecting tourists from stumbling upon the ganados that persevered inside. but jake knew exactly where he was going.

( to an extent )

he's uninterested in the science that seemed to motivate his father to valdelobos nearly ten years prior. wesker's research is worse than unimportant — it's the pursuit of a madman. he isn't surprised at the cruelty and carelessness of people, but if he's learned anything, it's that the world was filled with malignancies that no one should have touched.

just because you can, didn't mean you should, right?

he's tracing the footsteps of a ghost, not digging for answers as much as he's digging for closure.

he feels a deep unease since he'd arrived, stomach jostled, mind too alert, like he needs to keep constant watch over his shoulder. he's made it to the castle and it's the opposite of a fairytale. the air feels heavy like tangible death, pain still lingers.

❝ shit, who lights all these? ❞ combat boots trudge through the audience chamber, focused on the eery candlelight, instead of the way his stomach swims. shake it off, jake. shake it the fuck off.

don't leave me in the dark, he hears and spins around, looking for the source of the voice.

❝ sorry, i'm not really the sharing type of guy. ❞

" Judgement draws near. Kneel, and I may yet show mercy. " ---- @lasplaga​

the storm raging the way it does outside only matches the feeling in leon’s heart. anger. frustration. the only thing stopping him is his own determination. failure isn’t an option, it never has been. it’s the one thing that keeps him from stopping. and there the lord is, trying to pry the sensation from the agent as if he ever would. they’re both aware that the blonde is headstrong. that nothing will stop him. the determination he harbors will send him directly into the ground. it’ll be his demise, be it now or much later in his life.

mentally, leon’s counting his bullets. he has ten in play, and blue eyes are just watching carefully. “ pretty sure your definition of mercy and mine are vastly different than each other, “ he points out, eyes narrowing as he just watches the lord -- looking for an opening that might only be a second long.. eye contact is made once again and the frustration that leon harbors is abhorrent. 

“ mercy isn’t using everyone as puppets with parasites, for the record. “ unsure if he has another chance, he shoots two bullets directly behind him into a crippling pillar to at least try to distract so he could make the move to lunge out of the situation. this was a distraction to keep leon even further from wherever they were keeping ashley.