Project W

| Albert Wesker | Virologist | Visionary | Under normal circumstances, I would not waste my time on people such as yourselves. However, this place provides ample opportunity to keep tabs on old... "friends." Should you wish to talk, keep it brief and keep your wits about you. I do not tolerate fools. [Primarily an ask blog, but not averse to casual RP. Sometimes, I lapse into Steve because I don't even know, man.]

[partykain-blog-deactivated20200]

OPEN FOR COMMISSIONS

Hello, friends. Due to dire financial straits, I am coming out of a long hiatus to announce I am doing commissions. Bust commissions! If it has shoulders, I will draw it from the shoulders up. It could be a monster, a person, a dog, a cat, LoK characters (for my fandom bros), a thing that doesn’t have shoulders. I will slap shoulders on it and draw it from the shoulders up. Hell, design the most obnoxious thing you can and send it to me just to watch me suffer. I’ll do it if you pay me.

ALL PROCEEDS FROM ME DOING COMMISSIONS WILL GO TOWARD ME CONTINUING TO HAVE A PLACE TO LIVE.

I will open for four commissions a week. They’ll be $25 a piece and done in whatever style you choose. You want a sleek cel-shaded look? On it. Sketchy and scratchy? Got it. You want it slathered in so many grunge textures it looks like it came out of a Silent Hill game? My friend, I live for that.

I have galleries here and here if you want to peruse my work. I have an art tumblr over at basementbeast.

Please. I am begging you from the bottom of my heart. I am pouring all of my savings into trying to keep a roof over my head. I need a little fall back money for the little things so I’m not just living paycheck to paycheck, or no-check as the first few months will prove.

Contact me via e-mail at [email protected]

Or via tumblr.

Or via anyplace.

Just please, please, please. Let me art for you. My day job isn’t enough anymore.

[asklordwesker]

I know I'm not on here anymore and most of you may have forgotten me, but I'm going to every single venue I can out of desperation. I know. I reek of it.

I seriously, seriously, honest-to-WESKERRRR need help. This isn't a case of me not having a job and trying to get by on art. I have a job; it's the only job I can find at the moment and, as much as I love it, isn't paying enough with surprise eviction breathing down my neck.

I need the help.

I need the help because I like having a place to live.

Please. Please, oh my god, help.

[asklordwesker]

An Explanation... and Possibly Bad News

I've been gone for a while, haven't I? I wish I could convey just how sorry I was about that, because if there's one thing that stresses me out to a level I cannot even begin to describe, it's the feeling of letting people down. Which I have; I have let every single one of you down, and for that, I am immensely sorry.

As you could probably gather from so many of my previous posts, my life is incredibly hectic. I've been pulled thin to the point of snapping and have been ridiculously depressed over the state of my life, stressed over everything that is expected of me, and to be honest? RPing on tumblr has been the last thing on my mind, compared to dealing with the constant barrage of "DO THIS" shoved in my face offline.

Which makes me sad, because I have so many wonderful friends here who probably thought I dropped off the face of the Earth, and I really miss you all. I just have been... braindead? Broken? By the time I'm done with the day, I can't even think straight, let alone write or be witty. And usually, I end up locked in a studio or something anyway.

What does this mean?

I don't think I have the time or energy to keep up with these blogs anymore. Which hurts to even type, because I... I can't even. I loved doing this, I got so excited about interacting with all of you, and now? I just can't. I don't have it in me.

Am I deleting my RP blogs?

No. I'm not. I keep hoping that--Wesker willing!--things will calm down and I can resume where I left off.

What about in-progress RPs?

If you want to continue threads--particularly Lloyd, since it was kind of important to his character's story--just let me know and I'll see what I can do. I don't want to leave people hanging if it's critical, because what kind of douchebag would I be if I did that?

And to my friends or people who want to speak with regular old Amber and not Wesker/Steve/Karsaga:

I have a personal blog at partykain, and an art blog at basementbeast. The personal blog is mostly reblogs, admittedly, since I don't have time for much else, but I can be contacted through there. Basementbeast may see more use, because my grades are slipping for "technical reasons," and I'm going to end up posting a lot of practice and classwork. I can also be contacted through there.

Again, I'm so sorry. I can't even say just HOW sorry I am. When I made this blog, I never anticipated that this would happen. I seriously thought I could handle it.

[asklordwesker]

ooc: AAAAAAAAAAA

[I INTENDED TO GET MORE DONE AND THEN LIFE HAPPENED.]

[kawaii-piers]

“Take what you need.” replied the young male without fear and spread his arms in a challenging gesture. C-virus clouded his thoughts, it was an agressive virus. 

The Neo-Umbrella agent narrowed his nutbrown eyes, he knew some of his weaknesses. “Fire…” whispered the former soldier and closed his eyes. He hated to admit that he wasn’t flawless.

“The C-virus is scared of fire and heat. It starts to scream in my head as soon it sees a flame, which is big enough to hurt me seriously. Almost like a panic-stricken kid. It’s distracts me alot.”

He shifted his weight on his other foot and looked away. “Cold doesn’t affect me as much as heat…I feel comfortable when I swim in a sea or anything.” 

He cocked his head to the side and exposed a stitched scar on his neck. An old experiment of Neo-Umbrella. “I’ve expected that you would take my life for granted, so don’t worry. I know that my life means nothing for you.”

[asklordwesker]

Fire? Wesker nodded thoughtfully and chuckled. He personally could understand such an aversion, although his own was more psychological than anything.

"Then project LUCIFER will have to be kept at an adequate distance, although your adaptation to colder climes shall prove invaluable. And aquatics? Even better."

When Piers tilted his head and he caught sight of the scar, his own head cocked in intrigue. He sniffed and approached, reaching out to grab at the specimen's chin and move it aside. Gloved fingers traced the mark, eyebrows furrowing, not out of concern more than curiosity.

"I see somebody has already gotten to you," he sighed. "May I ask what this is from?"

[askfabulousleon]

So I’m at best buy and I did THIS. WESKER WHEN DID YOU BECOME A NASCAR DRIVER??!?!?!

[asklordwesker]

I went through a phase in my late teens, where I was overcome with the insatiable urge to turn left.

[asklordwesker]

Suddenly, Cats [Doomsy | Wesker]

[doom-overlord-deactivated202108]

The feline turned human lashed out, kicking Wesker’s hand with his other leg. The feeling of helplessness only fueled his need for some semblance of control.

He took deep breaths in, gathered all hew knew in his mind of humans, and stood up.

He didn’t fall down again.

Now for the next part…

[asklordwesker]

Well, he was certainly doing something with himself. Leaning against the doorway, he allowed Doomsy to hobble about the lab, eyebrow quirking as he watched him grab at counters and tables in a desperate bid to keep himself upright. It many ways, it reminded him of his days watching after Lisa Trevor, sitting on one side of a two-way mirror with William with his head tilted to the side as she waddled to and fro and occasionally put herself through a table or two.

It was enlightening to watch, however. Much could be said about the creature's cognitive abilities based on its problem solving skills, its reactions to the moment. He straightened his sunglasses and crossed his arms, jotting mental notes here and there.

It was only when the former feline strayed too close to a cabinet of specimens that he intervened, but only enough to point him in the opposite direction. He was curious if the cat could manage to get out of the room.

"One foot in front of the other," Wesker encouraged without a hint of sympathy. "If an infant can figure it out, so can you."

[thomas-xy-07]

Ghost (Wesker|Thomas)

[thomas-xy-07]

Thomas was thrown off by the sudden change in attitude, pausing almost comically. What was going on? What did the man want? Who was he? Well, first thing’s first…

“I’m Thomas.” he said, still clutching the knife in his hand.

He still looked for a way out of this. Trouble outside of the job was bad for the bussiness and ultimately for him.

[asklordwesker]

Almost in spite of himself, Wesker chuckled. There was something about the way he spoke, the way he looked, the way he clutched his knife. He had the smell of something unique and the face of his greatest nemesis, but the way he reacted to Wesker's very presence was... humorous to say the least.

"Well now, Thomas," he stated, taking a step forward. He watched the knife in the other's hand, unafraid of it but wary out of habit. His coat swept around him as he circled the man like a bird of prey, analyzing every bit of him.

He looked like Chris. He sounded like Chris. He smelled broken and unnatural. There was something peculiar, something fascinating. Obviously, this was somebody's handiwork--and some work it was--but whose? And what was it capable of?

"Tell me, where is it exactly you are going? And where from?"

[asklordwesker]

[It's late that I respond to this, but considering how terrible I've been feeling lately, digging these up in my inbox made my day.]

[asklordwesker]

... Talking cats. Talking dogs...

You know, the longer this persists, the more I wonder if this is all some manner of elaborate "dream" while I am dying in a pool of lava. None of this happened to me before.

[asklordwesker]

OOC: Venting

I'm overworked. I'm underpaid. I'm stressed, depressed, and lonely. I'm sitting here--struggling not to hyperventilate and crying--and I don't even really know why. I just feel like everything in my life has gone wrong, like I have made every possible bad decision that a person can make to bring me around to this point. I'm terrified that I don't have what it takes to survive in the real world, and a part of me feels like nothing is really worth it anymore.

I know it'll get better. It always does. But I just feel so broken right now.

I'm not pretty. I'm not smart. I'm not stylish or even particularly witty or likeable. If you put a bull in a lady suit, you'd probably get the bloated hellbeast that is me.

I mean, I try. I really do. To look presentable. To do my job well. To be there for people. To succeed in classes. I try.

Don't have much to show for it. A bad back, sleep deprivation, a lot of dashed hopes. Such is life, it happens to everyone, but... I-I don't know.

Losing me wouldn't be losing much. I don't have a lot to offer. I'm just a very homely woman with very limited skills and not much to show for what she does. I'm like the stupid dog who wants to make its owner happy, but can't even be taught how to sit.

If only I was a cute dog.

[asklordwesker]

Coffee Break [William | Wesker]

[viralobsession]

Ah formalities.

William didn’t mind overly much. Considering the intruders into his own lab as of late he could quite logically understand as to the need for increased security – he himself would have done much the same if he didn’t already have plans into motion to leave Umbrella before his own untimely demise. G wasn’t finished yet either, but it was stabilized enough that he felt transporting it wouldn’t bring any lasting harm – and there was no way in the seven levels of hell that he would be leaving his creation behind.

“At least you have your specimens well trained.” The cutting words were a deliberate barb as he looked between first one – Krauser – and then the other – Steve – while he strode into the room. His gaze wouldn’t immediately land on Wesker, however, inquisitive and curious by base nature those blues moved and investigated, taking in everything that lay within the room before they finally landed on the form of his old friend.

“I smell that coffee.” He stated bluntly, almost bemusedly, head canted slightly as he considered the cup in the older man’s hand. “Please tell me you have some that’s actually warm. It’s still freezing outside.”

[asklordwesker]

"They're well-trained so long as I am in their immediate line of sight. Admittedly, that is all I ask so long as they do not get themselves killed. I still have need of them."

Wesker chuckled as he watched William slowly enter the room. It was more than a bit amusing to watch as his old friend examined every nook and cranny, almost like a child in a museum. Though his expression remained neutral, his eyes seemed to scream with wonder. Not that the room was too impressive, mind you, but knowing Birkin he figured it was safe to bet he hadn't seen anything but his own lab in well over a month.

"I wouldn't dream of entertaining one William Birkin without making the necessary arrangements," he stated in an even tone, though one side of his lips tugged up in a smirk. "I can have Burnside fetch you a cup or, should you be averse to a tyrant handling your drink, you're more than welcome to help yourself. It's in the corner. Just follow the smell of French roast."

He nudged his own drink and sighed.

"I must admit, I am most curious what brings you my way, Will. Something on your mind? Or are we killing somebody again, like the last time?"

[maskedjavo]

C-Virus Experiments

[maskedjavo]

The Chinese man stands as told, the stool scooting back along the linoleum floor noisily as he did so. His posture isn’t the best it could be—he didn’t stand up completely straight unless he was trying to be intimidating—so his shoulders slouch and knees bent enough to make the j’avo appear shorter than he really is.

“Yes,” he agrees with the information he’s telling. His entire right arm is scattered with deep-set scarring from the Khvantanje mutation he suffered a month or so ago. Time was becoming difficult to follow these days when he had no reason to know what day of the month it was. “Had mutation suppressed, once.” He moves his right arm slightly, “Not heal fully.” It left him with a higher body temperature as well… Nearly eight degrees hotter than before.

[snipsnop]

[asklordwesker]

"T-virus BOW variant," Wesker answers when the specimen makes his lack of knowledge known. "I've learned field testing against the bottom-rung of the 'intelligent' mutations is invaluable. Through this, I can discover just how you compare to similarly mutated specimens taken from different viruses, how you stack up against those infected with Veronica and G, what has changed in the capabilities of the viruses through splicing them together. Damage threshold, reaction times, involuntary defense mechanisms..."

He pauses, noticing that the words probably don't mean anything to the j'avo. Anymore, he is rambling to himself. No matter. He sniffs as he turns away, leaving the BOW standing alone in the middle of his lab just long enough for him to dig a few tools out for his use.

"Not yet, however. I am just making mention of it. Why would I endanger you before I discovered the basics? I intend to proceed slowly. There's no guarantee you'll walk out of here alive."

The object in his hands is revealed to be a simple syringe as he approaches the j'avo, a sigh escaping his lips as he less-than-gently pulls up an arm. His fingers rest for a moment of Prikriti's wrist, feeling for a pulse and inwardly comparing it to that of Project LUCIFER.

Funny how different they were, when every C-virus creature in creation was essentially the bastard offspring of Veronica.

"Not that you need to worry too much," Wesker chuckles, hands traveling toward the inside of the j'avo's elbow as he sought a visible vein. "I'm sure this will end well. I have no doubts in my abilities."

[asklordwesker]

Suddenly, Cats [Doomsy | Wesker]

[doom-overlord-deactivated202108]

Doomsy’s despair faded quickly into anger. As much as he was capable of, he growled in his human form. He bared his teeth unconsciously.

“Ni no slaha, ba Ri nihenka te moatet.”

Humans were always the culprits of everything wrong in this world. Now more than ever the embodiment of their dreams hated those pitiful creatures. It’s one thing experiencing their atrocities, but whole other being humiliated by them. This gave him the energy to wriggle out of Wesker’s grasp onto the floor.

He was going to be independent as much as he can, human or beast.

[asklordwesker]

"Suit yourself," Wesker sighed, stepping over Doomsy. If the cat wished to be difficult, he would let him be difficult. Eventually, he would realize just what a situation he was in (if Wesker's assumptions on the feline's well being were correct) and he would break.

Or die.

Wesker's lips twitched. He had already decided that the pesky beast would be useless as a corpse, since it wouldn't give him an ample chance to field test his abilities. If Doomsy passed...

... Well, so would his studies.

"Oh, goddammit," he snarled, latching onto the specimen's ankle. "You're a pest even when you lack the ability to walk."

[thomas-xy-07]

Ghost (Wesker|Thomas)

[thomas-xy-07]

The instincts kicked in at the tone of the man’s voice.

His right hand pulled out a gun with superhuman speed and he shot without a proper aim. He was in deep trouble. He needed to get away. His opponent was not human either, and though that intrigued Thomas, his gut was telling him his life was on the line.

His left hand was half a second slower than his right, gripping his knife and proceeding to pull it out.

[asklordwesker]

Something wasn't right. As he watched the Redfield lookalike move, he took special notice of the look in his eyes. His brows furrowed and his head tilted slightly, watching as this strange man tried to fend off his pursuer.

Lips formed a fine line as he lowered his defenses. For some reason, he looked like a frightened child.

"Stop," Wesker stated, holding his hand up. If this peculiar being was as simple as he looked, perhaps brute force wouldn't be a necessity. It certainly would make his life easier if he could avoid having to take the man by force.

"Just tell me who you are," he finally stated in a voice that was disgustingly paternal. It made him inwardly cringe.

"No need for the knife. Let's just talk."

[asklordwesker]

OOC

[I spent too much time in the studio last night with Beefy and whoathere-supergirl. I hit a point of exhaustion where I curled up in a ball on the floor and started cackling, telling Beefy that he would be adorable if he was an owl. With hands.

Part of my fabric sample is made out of pipe cleaners, raffia, and Mardi Gras beads.

And now, on very little sleep and in a similar mindset, I'm gonna go work with sharpened metal plates, the shanks we use to carve them, and nitric acid. If you don't hear from me this weekend, chances are I am bleeding, melting, and telling somebody that they should be an owl with hands.

I so know what I'm doing.]

[asklordwesker]

◘, •

- ANOTHER ME FACT: I actually... have two degrees. Associate degrees, so I can't do anything with them (hence, I ended up moving two hours away to get a Bachelor's and who knows where I'm going after that). They're in art and science. Just... general art and general science, although most of what I focused in was literature and biology. Because why not?

- Another fact about Wesker: He's actually pretty damn terrified of Uroboros anymore. You'll never make him admit it, but he feels like Frankenstein, and he's worried he'll end up with a bad case of the dead, just like ol' Victor.

[asklordwesker]

♫ ♣ ♦ ↕ φ ≡ Ω ♥ ☻ ◘ • ((just gonna be that person to ask everything hurr hurr ))

- Unfortunately, I cannot show face. No camera. If you dig, you'll find a four year old picture of me that I posted before, though. I look exactly the same, except more tired.

- Pansexual. Excitement.

- Single. Have been for three years, unless you count my monogamous relationship with Bethesda Softworks. I love you, Morrowind.

- I was born in Virginia (United States) but have lived my whole life in various parts of Kentucky (also United States). I originally am from right smack in the middle of the Appalachian Mountains, too, which is weird because I now get really nervous if I go anyplace too flat.

- Uh... I just get really stressed out sometimes over meeting people's standards. If I don't do enough stuff in a quick amount of time or if I don't answer everything really fast, I start getting paranoid that people are upset with me.

- Morrowind. Morrowind Morrowind Morrowind. Morrowind. I love Morrowind. Or the Panzer Dragoon series. Panzer Dragoon is amazing.

- Uh. D&D? Lol. I mean, I played pretend a lot when I was a kid, but ACTUALLY RPing came about when I was in middle school and I realized through D&D that I didn't necessarily HAVE to outgrow pretend and I could just keep going forever. Fuck growing up, man.

- I draw and I write and I play video games. I also do linocut printmaking and love to cook. I also collect Entei (from Pokemon) and have a pretty extensive collection. I tried sewing once, but that's my brother's deal.

- The Elder Scrolls, Legacy of Kain, Resident Evil, Pokemon, and the teeny, tiny The Suffering fandom that exists. Also, Shin Megami Tensei. Barongs 4 lyf.

- I almost lost my eye when I was three! I fell off of a bed and cracked the top of my eye socket against the nightstand. I then... promptly climbed back into bed and went to sleep.

- Wesker now has a mind of his own and I love it.