#emmy024

[emmy024]

I’m just so happy she’s back 🥹

[ladydimitrescusdarling]

[emmy024]

There's no other good reason to make a render other than wanting a new background for my phone, and since I love what I did with moldy boy here it is. It's not my best of all time nor the best to date, but I truly enjoyed the process of making it. Thanks to RE: Village since I played it and it gave me the inspiration I needed to create yet another render of Ethan xd

Now on Artstation!! Here

[emmy024]

After an intense semester in uni I ended up completely drained and just wanting to rest a bit, you know how it is, specially after three weeks of pure stress over two decisive exams. After that I only wanted to have a looooong break from creating/thinking about create stuff. One day I was looking at some old renders I printed and I saw my old (and favorite) “Happy Hour” render, and as I smiled decided to do something with my girl “just for fun”. And that “just for fun” ended up searching for a little inspiration (thank you Daz Studio) and I found what I wanted. So here you have, the last/first render of this year (last render of 2022 since I started rendering/editing on the last days of December) of my beloved Chelsea 🥰

[emmy024]

After many months of not knowing what to do with this render (including not having a great light setup, or even a perfect background) I finished it and I love it ❤️ love the results, even if I had to sacrifice resolution a bit (or else my computer would explode xd). Enjoy

[emmy024]

Prideful, arrogant, cold and distant. Being a member of one of the most illustrious families in Europe sure makes you a bit of these.

[emmy024]

It’s been a hell of a week (and month so far), but I know for sure that this render, even if it doesn’t make much sense) is my personal favorite 'till date. I’m just in love with that outfit Leon wore on RE2 2019 and I wanted to give one of my protagonists a handsome look. Enjoy

[emmy024]

I had this render hidden for a while now, so it’s time for the internet to see it too

[emmy024]

Made a render of Moira just because I was feeling it was about time of remaking some of my older renders with my new “style” or approach. Whatever you want to call it.

And just as a funny reminder we will never know what happened to her or if Natalia (aka Alex Wesker with a new body) ever did anything to the Burton’s. Enjoy!

And I’m absolutely delighted by this render 🤩

[emmy024]

[emmy024]

December 22nd, climate about five degrees and the sun high in the sky. Light rays poured in through the window that was patiently cleaned by the brown-haired young woman; although the photo on the table was an indicator that she had her hair long, it was now an almost masculine cut and with a visible scar on the upper left half of her head.

The whole house smelled of cleaning products and lemon thanks to the spray diffuser. Julian Casablancas’s furious voice was heard even on the sidewalk. She hummed the melody while moving her body to the music’s beat. She still remembered how and when she first heard them: on the radio she turned on solely to place one of the records she inherited from her late father.

There she met one of her greatest pleasures. And all thanks to the birthday man who was not available to celebrate today. "Surely his friends throw him a huge party wherever he is. It’s a pity my invitation was revoked just a few months ago." Almost by miracle and quick medical attention, if she could add.

Rub a little more until you placed her hands on her waist. It looked perfect, in a much better state than she found it when she started. "Well, now I can see my reflection. Cool" she thought with a satisfied smile. “Now I dare Emily to tell me something because my house "looks like a garbage dump."

Her mother (she hated being called “mother”) was an overly obsessive person about cleanliness. Not even because she opened her head like a coconut Emily was able to leave it alone. Eh: at least she gave her daughter a few months of pure peace until her life was in order.

But at least cleaning was entertaining. Away from sad thoughts that could put her life at risk. Also, it was a good activity for a Sunday afternoon. "Until I start cooking Christmas dinner. Then everything will go back to the mess it all was."

Since her mother hated the idea of anything related to cooking, it was her duty to make good use of grannie Constance's recipe book and prepare a delicious Italian dish. That year the Vickers-Luciani would celebrate with the Redfields as an addition to the five-person dinner (including Jake Müller). It was her duty to do things right.

The recipes written by nonna Vickers had to be interpreted perfectly, or three generations of angry Italians would fall on her head. And no one would want that...

She though about it a lot. What could be prepared? Something easy or going to charge? Pasta? Parker's favorite lasagna? "No, we eat that almost every Sunday. I must do something different for once..."

What would Mr. Brad Vickers tell her if he were there? "He would probably be as pragmatic as any man can be, saying 'I don't really mind” and get me frustrated. Just as what he did to Emily."

She decided when cleaning the oven’s door to go for dishes that he once liked. They were relatively simple. And the bonus point was that they would work with her mother. Minestrone soup with the addition of a delicious starter of grisinis along with a spicy sauce. Also, some carbonara for her and her stepfather who both loved the taste of cheese in their throats.

He finished scraping a dirt stain that seemed permanent and finished cleaning the kitchen. At last, she could relax.

"And now?" She made a very thick coffee and added whipped cream from the supermarket. A thawed croissant and two sachets of sweetener. She took a seat at the kitchen table, caressing the head of her tabby-haired Boxer who watched her eat.

The music stopped once it reached the end of The Strokes' second album, leaving her in silence only interrupted by the incessant whimpering of her three pets. "Aaaand… what now?" A sense of dissatisfaction accompanied the emptiness felt inside.

She lit a cigarette and reached out her cell phone. She checked some notifications received during a well-deserved moment of peace and noticed something. In one of the recognized functions to return one (or not) to a happy past: exactly four years ago she shared her favorite photo. Chelsea and her dad.

"What a handsome guy he was! I got the best of him: nose and chin. And a little bit of personality too." She smiled feeling sadness. How much she would like to call him to make a father-and-daughter day. "How old he would be? About fifty-four? Damn, old man!”

"Key word of the day: would be" she lamented, giving the last drink of the delicious and hot coffee. “See, Polly-Sue? If it weren't for this man and his fascination with dogs, you'd be with another family that wouldn't give you this little bit of a delicious croissant.

"Dog’s madman", he whom left mom the most unbearable Cocker Spaniel and therefore my absolute favorite."

She handed the tip to the dog, her four-legged best friend wagging her short tail excitedly. She got up to clean utensils to go decisively to look for a precious object... That for some reason her guts demanded to have it on hand. Sometimes those things happened to her: a sudden desire to go for something related to her past. As a faithful anti-everything of things with a mystical side, she attributed it solely to longing.

True to their style, the three dogs followed her devoutly into her room. Chelsea scrambled her drawer of her wardrobe; she ran documents and other artifacts. She took the most important one: a huge photo album, copied by a melancholic Emily so that she would have something to hold on to. Chris confessed that it all was by pure regret for multiple mistakes Emily let run in the past. Things not said and actions not taken. Well-hidden lies and drawn truths.

In her opinion it was time to remove that painful thorn. "But that's the way she is. You can't teach an old dog new tricks."

She went back to the kitchen. It was her pleasure to see familiar faces of unknown people. She picked up the nicotinic cylinder again and gave it a long puff at the time she opened the album. The title was "Copy number four. Take great care of it and don't do anything I wouldn't do. “As if I were going to use it for a Fourth of July barbecue!”

A succession of photographs from her parents' wedding to her first steps was made available to her. She always found it enjoyable to watch two adults in love enjoy their stellar night surrounded by friends, family and office mates; it was embarrassing to see her sit on a toilet, learning both to stop using diapers and learn not to urinate on herself. “I’ll never understand why this was worth photographing. Like what the actual fuck is wrong with parents!”

Mr. Vickers appeared smiling with a drink in his hand, wrapping around Barry and a man named Marvin. From what she heard about Marvin, he was a good colleague, an admirable father and an exemplary policeman. Constantly thinking about the well-being of others. Barry, on the other hand, was the typical red-haired father who made terrible jokes in order to embarrass his daughters and entertain others; but the heart of that muscled man could house planet Earth.

“I missed him so much! I should send at least one message to ask how things are going, it feels like I’m an ungrateful bitch”. The poor man always cared about her well-being, even if he was covered with work.

Emily exuded her classic strong, confident woman's attitude, surrounded by tall, handsome guys. Something that always made her laugh was the fact that her uncle Josh of just thirteen appeared among adults, much more handsome than him. What a spoiled child's face! Acne, an embarrassed expression next to an awkward smile as he was kissed with affection by his sister and brother-in-law.

She recalled that such a photograph was on his personal desk, inside the lavish office of an aristocratic family full of books and dark aura.

A blonde man with messy hair dancing and making her mother spin like a princess was Uncle Joseph; in another a man with brown hair was none other than the older brother of his neighbor Tyler Speyer. They seemed to dance like there was not tomorrow, or that was her interpretation; Forest's affable smile next to his long hair brought a smile to Chelsea’s face.

If he had remained alive, she was certain that she would be fond of him, never mind the fact that he never liked children.

Magic continued with sporadic parties or gatherings to eat a barbecue between the STARS members. It was no secret among the survivors that all (or at least most) of them were on excellent terms. Except for some setbacks between Emmy/Brad may have had with Chris, the rest were good friends.

It was time to look at photographs of a long-awaited pregnancy. Rumors had it that there was once a photo of her mother crying while holding a pregnancy test. Sherry was a lot of things, but a liar wasn’t one of them; if she claimed it existed then it was one thousand percent legit. Also, how would a dude who loved documenting his life not go about portraying every happy moment of the long-awaited baby?

"Dad was the first hipster that existed. Had Instagram existed in his time, he would’ve been the king of daily posts." Not to mention that after four attempts that ended in miscarriages the mere idea of finally having a kid would probably be glorious to them.

They were very cautious: they didn’t announce it until after four months had passed. That's when the real party started.

A string of photographs announcing it to their work colleagues, receiving gifts in the form of stuffed animals and unisex clothes (they hadn’t yet bet what gender the baby had) and baby-related furniture. One of those gifts was ironically the best: Uncle Joseph had the brilliant idea of gifting them a skeleton-shaped bear. He found it funny and appropriate for a baby.

"Too bad I was afraid of that thing until I was five” she laughed at the time after she gave a puff to her cigarette “He never saw that coming.”

All those snaps were an absolute delight. Those smiles and excitement cheered her soul, much needed for a recovering addict.

One caught her eye: a rather handsome guy, straight nose and blond hair with a good guy face named Richard hugged his mother and handed over a bag of children's utensils next to a stuffed giraffe. The animal was sitting, smiling as he held a heart on his paws. Reggie the giraffe!

Rumors said that each one of the STARS members found that plushie so adorable and soft that they proceeded to hug it one by one. Twelve adults, with adult lives and work, worshipping a stupid giraffe. "And then I’m the crazy and childish one."

Maybe that's why she always felt accompanied and safe to have that giraffe in her arms. Perhaps they gave her a little bit of safety and love by hugging that thing.

A true pity was that it all ended months later. The rest of the pictures looked somewhat lacking in charisma along with color. They only showed their parents, rarely appearing in the same photograph. Either it was her dad sitting in the rocking chair surrounded by stuffed animals, or Emily with a belly almost twice as big as her body. Chelsea did not want to imagine the pain that they must have gone through as a couple to have lived through such a setback.

Time went by and arrived at the first photos where she was already born. The very first contact with her mother's skin was captured, Emily cried and caressed her dirty head barely covered by hair. Why on earth babies come into the world like that? Next, she was held in her dad's arms, resting both on the couch in the hospital room.

No one to congratulate them, they lived in fear that a handful of mercenaries would kill them; there was no newborn party or introduction to friends. The Vickers family (at least the third’s son’s branch) took refuge in the two-room house waiting for the storm moderate.

They needed nothing more than themselves in those ten days stolen from the clutches of fateful fate. It was a follow-up until she found her favorite. Despite not remembering anything, Chelsea was glad to have lived them. It gave her the possibility of having that beautiful image on her hands.

She finished the cigarette and lit another one, although that time she went to the fridge for a bottle of water. She carefully stole it off the album, observing it carefully to delight her eyes and soul.

Her dad was sitting on a purple rocking chair, probably cross-legged. It was a beautiful day out, late summer and approaching autumn; the sun was still shining strong enough to leave a beautiful yellowish glow as it filtered in. This luminous effect radiated perfectly against the strong profile of a man mesmerized by his first and only daughter.

He held her carefully and his heart filled with love. He smiled at the little figure who slept with the pacifier still on her mouth. This baby girl of mere days old wrapped in her pink blanket and wearing a ridiculous pink hat. Behind, room full of toys, stuffed animals and even a rocker horse. Stacked diaper packs, ready-to-use bottles along with the mysterious toy raccoon she still had at home. Why did that thing always appear in photos?

Seeing that snapshot filled her soul with an inexplicable peace, almost as if she were once again hugged by her dad. To be surrounded by the muscular arms of a 5ft 9in, Christian heart and science-loving mind. "How much do I need you! These days more than ever, and that's the worst thing it can happen to anyone."

She kissed it fondly. She saved it again delicately and then closed the album. She already knew how the story ended regarding her life and her father’s. Why contaminate it with spoilers?

“Ti amo, papà. Grazie di tutto e buon compleanno.”

She gave a kiss to the sky as hers nonna Constance used to do when referring to her deceased son. She smiled heavily and went to storing it and then put some music on. That time she chose something to give a little nod to the birthday boy with his favorite band. She selected with her phone The Joshua Tree and the music was played at full volume.

[emmy024]

Another of my OC’s, this time Dennis Atkins (which I already shown, but whatever I made a different render 🤣). And yes: I still don’t know how to create a decent moustache even if I can create it with the Wacom tablet. PS: the only two persons Dennis (and I) can make fun of his moustache are Chelsea and Ethan.

[emmy024]

Hey there!!

I'm surprised how this render ended up looking. I had this on my computer for like months and never knew what was missing with this render. I didn’t know if the lights were off, if the issue was her pose or whatever. Nevertheless, I succeeded and tbch I really like how this ended up looking. Thanks to xKamillox for such a great model btw <3

[emmy024]

Made this only with the intention of using it as a Home Screen, but decided to share it only here because it’s not the quality I want for my dA profile (and not every single thing should be posted there, it’s going to clog my profile again and I should avoid it xD )

[emmy024]

I’ve been pretty busy these days. A lot of stuff and scary moments but nothing music and my hobby of creating renders with some RE characters can’t fix. Also I’ve been re-writing my fanfic with Chelsea and this handsome man (and how world tries to kill both xd ), and music helped me a lot.

With all this said: listen to Roosevelt. He’s the best artist I’ve could find during quarantine and I’m so thankful for his music. I use one of his pictures as a reference to create this render, so this is my humble tribute to him.

Here’s a link for an HQ download: https://sta.sh/0th1qme76y6

And yes: here’s the songs I've listened to while creating this render!!

[emmy024]

Life ain’t easy when you survive a biological incident, but at least mine is not that bad. Yes, I’m the laughingstock of my group of friends. Those idiots nicknamed me “scarhand” making a reference to the iconic character. Are they fucking morons? Truth is: yes, they are. Either way they’re not even close to my level. None of them travelled to Louisiana in the search for a dangerous ghost. In the end, the stupidest of them all was me… All along. Never in my entire life thought I would be doing something like “meditation” or even yoga. It helps me to deal with all the subsequent consequences of my own stupidity. Me, yes, the same guy who never put will in doing something physical. Surprising, to say the least. Worst thing of them all was my gym shorts ripped, making a loudly tear in my precious badonkadonk. Chelsea keeps laughing about it. Sometimes I wonder how and why I ended up with her in a relationship. ¡Oh! ¡I know the answer! Because we both feel the same way. That and because both of us are two monsters who believe to be human. Eh, at least we know how to laugh our disgraces away, I guess. I don’t know if I ended up as bad as other infected. The only thing seriously varied overall is my potty habits. What a strange situation… No, there’s nothing to do with me being over thirty. That’s a huge lie invented by some nutjobs. The question I ask myself every morning is: am I a walking biohazard? Every specialist (including Machiavellian Doctor Vickers) said yes, but I’m one of those kinds of “light ones who’s a pleasure to treat”. ¿Thanks? Anyways, they let me stay at home playing my precious Wolfenstein 3D until three AM. At least I’m ten times more confident in myself than I used to be; I think I’ll write a book and make me a millionaire. Title: “never follow that odd email who should be in spam. LIKE EVER”.