malvirala

[malvirala]

The  only  thing  that  can  defeat  power,  is  more  power.  That  is  the  one  constant  in  this  universe.  However,  there  is  no  point  in  power  if  it  consumes  itself.  I  will  enlist  the  help  of  an  old  friend  against  our  common  foe.  I  will  use  one  pawn  to  eliminate  the  other,  and  emerge  with  the  spoils  for  myself...

An  independent  and selective  RP  blog  for  𝙳𝚁  𝙰𝙻𝙱𝙴𝚁𝚃  𝚆𝙴𝚂𝙺𝙴𝚁 of  Resident  Evil. Unaffiliated  with  any  fandom  or  RPC.  𝙸𝚗𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍  𝚋𝚢  𝙸𝚛𝚎.   30+. He/him  pronouns. Please  read  my  carrd  before  interacting. 🧬🕶️

[malvirala]

Since I didn't mention it because I've been busy and completely forgot I moved Wesker back to my hub. Same URL as this one ( Malviral ) my follows come from Heleerie, which I know a lot of folks are already following. Replies to threads and asks are coming, whether you want em or not ;^)

[malvirala]

Since I didn't mention it because I've been busy and completely forgot I moved Wesker back to my hub. Same URL as this one ( Malviral ) my follows come from Heleerie, which I know a lot of folks are already following. Replies to threads and asks are coming, whether you want em or not ;^)

[malvirala]

The  only  thing  that  can  defeat  power,  is  more  power.  That  is  the  one  constant  in  this  universe.  However,  there  is  no  point  in  power  if  it  consumes  itself.  I  will  enlist  the  help  of  an  old  friend  against  our  common  foe.  I  will  use  one  pawn  to  eliminate  the  other,  and  emerge  with  the  spoils  for  myself...

An  independent  and selective  RP  blog  for  𝙳𝚁  𝙰𝙻𝙱𝙴𝚁𝚃  𝚆𝙴𝚂𝙺𝙴𝚁 of  Resident  Evil. Unaffiliated  with  any  fandom  or  RPC.  𝙸𝚗𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍  𝚋𝚢  𝙸𝚛𝚎.   30+. He/him  pronouns. Please  read  my  carrd  before  interacting. 🧬🕶️

[malvirala]

another piece for @malviral ❤️ william's really slutting it up with this one

[malvirala]

i hate when people start asking what sign i am. I am a sign from god. start running.

[malvirala]

You’ve really become quite an inconvenience for me…

[malvirala]

"There are times when I think that dying might have been the better option." William admits in a voice which sounds trapped in a far away place. He stares down into pages and pages of writing and research stuffed as neatly as possible into several notebook spines. Tight cursive scrawls cover every available space which isn't taken up by loops and craggy lines of data. While they might have survived Raccoon city some atrophied part of the scientist's mind scratches away at the cage of his skull wondering how he deserved this life while his wife and daughter had not. 

Death  was  perhaps  a  state  better ��suited  for  both  of  them.  However,  in  Wesker's  case,  it  was  something  he  had  escaped  quite  willingly.  He  would  have  liked  to  say  by  design,  but  no,  it  was  never  entirely  as  cunning  as  that.  He  had  been  chosen,  of  all  the  billions  of  people  on  this  planet,  he  alone  was  worthy  of  a  power  even  he  scarcely  comprehended,  and  it  was  all  thanks  to  the  creation  of  William's  G-virus.  This  was  the  one  fact  of  the  matter  that  hadn't  come  as  any  surprise  to  him.  

Ever  since  they  were  boys,  he  knew  William  was  destined  for  greatness.  There  had  never  been  a  mind  quite  like  his  before and  there  had  not  been  a  mind  quite  like  his  since.  Wesker  considered  it  a  privilege  to  work  alongside  him,  a  greater  privilege  still  to  embody  the  fruits  of  all  his  hard  work  and  incredible  genius.  Together  they  were  the  future,  devised,  idealized  and  executed,  just  like  it  had  always  been,  now  with  William  as  the  architect  and  him  as  the  vessel.  

There  would  be  no  credit  to  the  poisonous  machinations  of  Spencer  and  his  designer  baby  scheme,  of  which  Wesker  had  been  the  crowning  achievement.  All  knew  of  Frankenstein,  the  monster,  not  so  much  the  fool  who  had  created  him,  or  the  madness  and arrogance  that  drove  him  to  do  such  a  thing.

William's  disclosure  catches  him  off  guard.  Gentle  words  and  kind  reassurance  were  not  something  he  felt  himself  familiar  with.  He  was  not  one  to  heal,  though  he  recognized  a  wound  when  it  was  presented  to  him and  as  ill-equipped  as  he  were,  Wesker  began  to  mull  over  exactly  what  he  should  say  in  retort.  Right  now,  an  analytical  chiding  was  perhaps  not  what  William  most  needed.  He  had  to  be  a  little  more  vulnerable  in  his  approach.  

 Nevertheless,  though  he  wasn't  exactly  a  wordsmith  when  it  came  to  vulnerability,  he  reaches  up,  plucking  the  dark-tinted  glasses  from  his  face.  They  frequently  masked  any  slither  of  emotion  he  might  have  felt,  from  his  more  typical  rage and disgust  to  the  less  common  surprise  and,  now,  as  the  case  may  be,  concern.  

They  say  the  eyes  are  the  window  to  the  soul and  though  his  now  burn  more  akin  to  gazing  through  the  gates  of  hell,  there  is  a  dip  in  his  brow,  a  sincerity  clearer  in  his  words  than  before.  

❝ I  have  you  to  thank  for  my  own  survival,  so  I  would  loath  to  believe  that  as  a  fact. ❞  Its  a  delicate  subject.  His  tone  is  something  solemn,  smooth  but  far  less  assertive  than  what  was  so  common  of  him. Clearly,  he  was  of  a  differing  opinion  entirely.

[malvirala]

There's an odd sort of domesticity in what they've settled into-- if you ask her, at least. She knows Albert will absolutely deny it to his grave, but she knows this is all just a test, to ensure she'll be the perfect companion in his new world... And Excella is determined to prove that she is absolutely wife material. She will have him. "Albert," she singsongs as she enters his office, the special pre-dosed syringe in her hand. "It's time for your medicine. Let's get you all taken care of....."

The  domesticity  behind  their  arrangement  is  strange,  and  yet,  at  the  same  entirely  ordinary  ━  expected,  even.  It  was  not  lost  on  him,  not  in  the  slightest;  to  the  contrary,  he  didn't  necessarily  see  anything  wrong  with  it.  Excella  was  a  beautiful,  intelligent  and  powerful  woman.  She  was  everything  he  would  imagine  himself  wanting,  and  time  and  time  again,  he  found  himself  lamenting  this  fact.  Where  was  she  when  he  was  sane ?  Where  was  she  when  he  was  human ?

She'd  made  herself  his  nurse,  as  any  good  wife  might.  Their  matrimony  unholy.  She  imagined  herself  his  queen,  but  that  wouldn't  be  up  to  him  to  decide.  Once  Orborous  was  free,  only  those  worthy  would  ascend.  And  therein  lay  the  true  problem:  their  domestic  woes  so  far  from  mundane.

She  thought  herself  suited  without  a  shadow  of  a  doubt,  and  Wesker  never  expressed  any  concern  to  the  contrary.  It  would  be  through  no  fault  of  her  own,  of  course.  In  the  meantime,  faux  acts  of  domesticity  lingered  between  them.  His  eyes  rise  from  the  paper  in  his  hand,  and  he  lets  out  a  hum  of  approval.

❝ I've  been  waiting  for  you. ❞ He  confirmed,  his voice almost a mocking purr and his  attention  moving  from  the  now  discarded  document  to  the  woman  before  him.  There  was  a  sick  sense  of  satisfaction  in  knowing  the  most  likely  outcome  of  their  partnership  was  oblivion  ━  both  flung  so  deservingly  into  the  dark  abyss.  He  felt  the  same  satisfaction,  imagining  it  would  be  the  same  for  so,  so  many  more.  The  little  smirk  that  sat  on  his  lips  was  a  testament  to  this,  but  she'd  never  know  her  beauty  and  her  evident  kindness  had  not  been  its  cause.

He  stood  from  behind  the  desk  and  made  his  way  to  the  lounge  area  of  the  luxurious  office  space.  There,  he  placed  himself,  rolling  up  his  sleeves,  ready  and  awaiting  the  treatment  he'd  come  to  rely  on  these  last  few  years  from  the  woman  he was allowing to follow  him  unthinkingly  into  a  hell  she  had  mistaken  for  heaven.  Indeed...  Where  was  she  when  he  was  still  human ?

[malvirala]

This   had   been,   arguably,   the   absolute   worst   few   months   of   his   life.   Perhaps   an   over   exaggeration,   but   he   felt   he   was   perfectly   entitled   to   it.   Here   he   was,   an   adult.   An   accomplished   virologist.   He   was   doing   what   he’d   worked   so   hard   during   his   youth   to   achieve,   and   this   child   comes   along   and   receives   praise   simply   for   existing   in   their   space.   He   isn’t   typically   prone   to   such   outrage,   but   the   facts   were   plain.   She   was   being   favored   by   birthright. Under   normal   circumstance,   he’d   have   tried   his   best   to   conceal   his   frustration   with   their   superiors.   He   was   more   than   privy   to   Umbrella’s   penchant   for   mischief.   He’d   been   all   too   wise   to   their   pathetic   attempts   to   pit   Albert   and   himself   against   one   another.   It   had   been   almost   laughable,   in   retrospect.   They   had   practically   been   attached   at   the   hip   upon   arrival   to   the   training   facility.   When   he   tries   to   think   analytically   about   why   he   was   so   drawn   to   Albert,   he   always   came   up   dry.   It   was   always   some   kind   of   unspoken   bond.   It   didn’t   need   explicit   verbiage,   but   if   it   ever   did   he   wasn’t   sure   he   would   do   it   justice. He   can   practically   sense   Albert’s   approach.   Really,   the   sense   is   granted   to   hearing   the   smooth   glide   of   his   steps.   Unwavering,   precise.   His   gait   was   always   the   same,   methodical   step.   He   spares   a   single   glance   up   from   his   seated   position,   but   lets   it   fall   once   more.   Focus   was   hard   to   come   by   when   his   thoughts   were   so   clouded   by   how   he   could   possibly   regain   his   footing   in   this   battle   of   wits.   Things   simply   wouldn’t   smooth   out,   and   no   matter   how   hard   he   pressured   his   mind   to   focus,   it   just   wouldn’t   come.   Ultimately,   he’d   decided   he   needed   a   breather.   Just   to   clear   his   head   for   even   a   moment.   Guilt   had   followed,   though.   A   feeling   of   shame   encapsulating   him   at   the   meer   notion   that   he   would   need   to   take   a   break. He   accepts   the   offer,   taking   the   cup   from   Albert   and   enjoying   the   warmth   in   his   hand.   He   uses   it   to   ground   himself   from   the   urge   to   wallow.   He   heaves   a   sigh,   giving   a   small   nod   and   forced   smile.   It’s   more   for   his   own   good   than   it   is   for   Wesker.   He   knows   better   than   to   think   a   smile   will   achieve   anything   for   him.   “Thanks,   Al,”   he   murmurs,   eyes   finally   trailing   back   up   to   regard   his   confidant.   “You   busy?”   the   question   comes   almost   as   an   afterthought.   He   doesn’t   exactly   think   he   wants   the   company,   but   on   the   same   note   he   doesn’t   want   to   be   alone.

It  didn't  make  much  sense,  but  then  most  prejudices  never  did.  Sure,  Lady  Alexia  was  a  remarkable  girl  to  have  graduated  university  at  just  ten  years  old,  but  her  induction  into  the  company  and  all  the  praise  and  romanticization  she  received  from  there  on  was  based  on  nothing  more  than  her  family  name.  Just  because  her  grandfather  had  been  one  of  Umbrella's  founders  and  an  accomplished  virologist  didn't  mean  she,  too,  would  be.  

After  all,  Edward's  own  son,  Alexander,  had  been  a  practical  unknown  in  the  company;  his  CEO  and  researcher  status  buried  beneath  his  failure  to  produce  anything  worthwhile  to  Umbrella.  If  a  parents  ━  or  grandparents,  as  the  case  may  be,  interest  and  success  were  automatically  bestowed  upon  a  child  the  same  way  it  seemed  the  old  bastards  around  here  thought  of  Alexia  and  her  grandfather,  then  he  would  be  an  accomplished maxillofacial surgeon  right  about  now  and  utterly  oblivious  to  this  place.

But  perhaps  a  sense  of  bias  had  blossomed  deep  within  him  all  the  same.  He  believed  his  aversion  toward  the  girl  was  grounded  solely  in  logic  and  that  he  might  praise  her  too  if  she  ever  managed  to  accomplish  something  within  the  company  worth  praising.  But  that  might  not  have  been  an  entire  truth.  The  reality  was  more  that  he  saw  what  she  ━  or  rather  what  the  expectations  of  her  ━  had  done  to  William.  He  took  a  particular  sense  of  chagrin  with  this  misdeed,  motivated  by  his  peculiar  sense  of  devotion  toward  his  long-time  partner.  

If  anyone  had  proven  themselves  worthy  of  his  respect  ━  of  his  praise,  it  was  indeed  William  Birkin.  Together  they  had  risen  free  of  Umbrella's  executive  training  school,  the  only  two  students  of  the  1978  class  to  graduate.  A  feat  their  very  survival  had  hinged  upon;  their  promotion  to  chief  researchers  at  Arkley  spared  them  Dr.  Marcus'  madness  and  his  wrath,  should  he  ever  find  out  they  were  the  ones  who  had  leaked  his  research  to  Mr.  Spencer.  

The  cutthroat,  competitive  atmosphere  of  Umbrella  ensured  a  " survival  of  the  fittest "  mentality  in  its  students,  something  that  Albert  Wesker  had  taken  particular  note  of  as  a  young  man.  William  was  one  of  the  few  who  had  slipped  past  his  purposive  sights,  whose  existence  had  perhaps  gone  beyond  what  material  or  practical  uses  he  might  have  had  for  his  own  causes.  After  all,  if  this  was  not  a  fact,  then  why  would  he  even  acknowledge  William's  existence  at  this  point ?  He  had  already  acknowledged  that  the  young  Ashford  girl’s  presence  had  rendered  the  once  brilliant  William  useless,  why  hasn’t  he  simply  moved  on ?

❝ Not  presently,  no. ❞  His  reply  comes  with  another  purposeful  sip  of  the  hot  coffee  in  his  hand.  Though obscured  by  the  navy  tint  of  his  glasses,  his  contrastingly  pale  blue  eyes  remained  fixed  on  the  other  man.  Certainly,  there  were  things  he  could  be  doing  right  now  ━  but  instead  he  remains  here,  keeping  William  company,  distracting  him  from  the  thoughts  that   have  persistently   threatened  to  destroy  him.  

❝ I  thought  that  I  might  finish  this  and  then  head  out  for  a  short  walk;  perhaps  you  would  like  to  accompany  me ?  The  trails  around  the  mansion  are  quite  spectacular  this  time  of  year. ❞

 Though  he  had  already  been  for  a  walk  another  wouldn’t  hurt,  especially  not  if  he  could  convince  William  to  go  with  him.  Lord  knows  he  needs  the  fresh  air   ━   among  other  things,  and  Wesker  always did  enjoy  the  tranquilly  of  the  forest.  It  was  perhaps  one  of  the  few  perks  of  this  otherwise  wretched  place. 

[malvirala]

Pretend there's a whole fucked up Weskella valentines day answer to an ask here I can't get cause deleted blog u_u

A  momentary  flare  of  emotion   ━   an  expression  of  rage  that  wasn't  entirely  vicious  for  once.  Instead,  it  was  more  frustrated;  nervous,  self-conscious   ━    almost  human  for  all  it  was  worth.  She  sings  his  praises  in  that  rich,  velveteen  voice  of  hers,  strokes  his  ego  as  if  it  were  a  magnificent  animal   ━  worthy  of  the  praise  ━  of  the  idealization  afforded  to  it  by  its  enchanted  onlooker.  And  wasn't  it ?  He  is  as  close  to  a  god  as  anyone   ever  could  be  —  powerful,  influential,  invulnerable,  insatiable.  He  is  a  destroyer  with  the  aspirations  of  an  architect and  like  all  known  gods,  he  too  was  created  by  the  fears  and  fantasies  of  man.  

But  she  was  more  than  his  captive  audience.  They  had  been  partners and  equals  in  many  ways,  in  ways  he  thought  he  had  long  since  left  behind  with  his  humanity.  Indeed,  that  is  precisely  what  she  has  become  a  constant  reminder  of.  What  he  once  was  ━  of  what  he  could  never  be  again and of  what  he  had  surely  missed . . .  

Companionship.  True,  unity  with  another  living  soul  like  his  own and  now  here  she  stands  before  him  in  all  her  beauty  and  her  likeminded  glory  while  his  humanity  has  long  since  escaped  him.  He  is  a  shell,  all  that  was  once  inside  of  him  drained  away  and  replaced  with  something  new  that  only  just  fit  within  his  skin.  

But  it  remembered  these  things,  these  past  feelings and aspirations.  Perhaps  it  does  not  feel  them . . .  Not  in  the  same  way  he  once  had. . .  But  it  remembers  them  enough  to  react  almost  accordingly. 

He  acknowledges  her  as  she  places  herself  beside  him,  a  cool  interest  plastered  on  his  face  as  far  as  could  be  determined  from  the  obscurity  of  the  sunglasses  he  wears.  She's  bold.  So  very  bold.  It  brings  him  a  smile  of  sorts  as  he  contemplates  her  superficial  swagger.  All  he  would  have  to  do  was  reach  out,  wrap  his  hand  around  her  dainty  little  throat,  and  with  a  slight  squeeze,  he  could  crush  her  pretty  windpipe.  It  would  be  over  in  a  matter  of  seconds.  

Fortunately,  making  an  exquisite  corpse  out  of  her  wasn't  on  his  to-do  list,  but  herein  lied  his  problem.  She  was  moral.  He  was  a  monster.  But  did  the  technicalities  really  matter ?  She  was  worthwhile and she  was  enamored  with  him.  He'd  be  a  fool  not  to  try and embrace  this  in  some  way.  Certainly  he’s  not  trying  to  let  her  down  out  of  dislike,  no,  rather,  quite  the  opposite.  

❝ You  are  everything  you  say  you  are  and  more,  Excella.  Intelligent,  competent,  affluent,  and  of  course  beautiful.  You  needn't  fear  that  any  of  this  goes  unnoticed;  that  is  not  the  case.  The  problem  is... ❞  

He  stops  here. . .  his  eyes  falling  to  the  hand  she  had  dared  to  trail  over  his  chest  so  seductively  only  moments  before.  He's  returning  her  gesture,  his  gloved  hand  ghosting  over  her  knee and coming  to  land  atop  her  hand  in  an  equally  coy  seduction.  Losing  her  support  wasn't  ideal,  even  if  he  couldn't  stand  her,  although  he's  already  acknowledged  this  isn't  where  his  “problem”  lied. 

❝ I’m  afraid  I  am  far  less  of  a  man  than  you  think  I  am. ❞  He  admits,  though  it  nearly  pains  him,  the  sickening  vulnerability  of  it.  As  such  his  brows  furrow  faintly  with  the  confession.  She  sees  what  he  is  on  the  outside,  she  praises  him  as  a  god   but  does  she  truly  understand  what  he  is  on  the  inside ?  What  it  makes  him  capable  of ?  He  thinks  it  would  be  unfair  if  he  didn’t  at  least  warn  her.....

[malvirala]

Psst, just a note, feel free to blacklist the tag "🕶️ 𝑻𝒂𝒈 : saved" because I'm going to get around to dropping some old writing here soon so I can delete the other archive cause its mucking my activity up on the other blog 🖤

[malvirala]

⸸ 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 ; 𓆚 The sorrows of this world are without number. Study your heart & know this to be true. Incessant war. Suffering. & man turns a blind eye to the atrocities created, the blood on their hands, even now . Your hatred. Your grief. Your agony. Only I can relieve you of those burdens ! Like a babe in the womb, the subjects of my kingdom need only drift about in tranquility. Why would you rob so many poor souls of their salvation ? Is there not great joy in the absence of free-will?

α┊ #𝖑𝖆𝖘𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖌𝖆, an independent, selective & grimdark portrayal of 𝐎𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐗𝐕 from Capcom's 𝔹𝕀𝕆ℍ𝔸ℤ𝔸ℝ𝔻 𝟜. | Mutuals only, canon-compliant, analysis heavy, as well as incorporating the lore of JP localizations, supplementary materials, novelizations, mangas, & both original + remake installments. | Worshipped by Veronica since 2017, 25+, she / her. | 18+ & depicts highly triggering content. | 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖/𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃! ◥ Ω

[malvirala]

       𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕒 𝕘𝕖𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕜𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕕,                                                𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖊'𝖘 𝖌𝖔𝖓𝖓𝖆 𝖇𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍 𝖔𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚.

indie  &    private ethan winters from    BIOHAZARD   /    RESIDENT EVIL.  ​​​​​​​                     mutually exclusive. est. 2022. remade 2025. as told by geoff.

[malvirala]

Netflix and chill? More like intense intellectual conversation then rough sex.

[malvirala]

Family-friendly version of the stripping Albert. I THOUGHT about censoring his foot too...

[malvirala]

𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝙾𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙷𝙰𝚄𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚂𝙴 𝙰𝚁𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄 ?

THE MIRROR

 What  do  you  see  today ?  Better  yet,  what  don’t  you  see  today ?   Probably  the  same  as  yesterday,  right ?  Everything  at  once  and  nothing  at  all.  You  know  the  face  looking  back  at  you  enough  to  know  that  it  is  not  your  own,  whatever  that  means.  You’ve  learned  by  now  that  your  face  is  irrelevant,  one  that  takes  a  backseat  to  the  ones  that  come  to  you  every  day,  asking  you  to  show  them  lies.  You  don’t,  of  course,  you  are  an  amalgamation  of  all  the  faces  looking  back  at  you,  a  reflection  of  themselves.  There  is  nothing  but  truth  in  that.  Don’t  take  it  too  personally,  then,  when  they  scream  in  your  face  and  take  off  running.  You  show  them  what  they  show  you:  who  they  are.  It’s  something  you  can  relate  to,  isn’t  it ?  Not  being  able  to  confront  yourself  face-to-face