* 𝙷𝙾𝙿𝙴.

victim and protégé. greatest love and ruination.

[bioweaponry]

⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐌 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃. 𝑵𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻𝑴𝑨𝑹𝑬 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑳𝑰𝑽𝑰𝑵𝑮. a low activity, canon divergent multimuse for resident evil, ft. grace ashcroft. this is a sideblog; i follow from dialhearts. triggering content may be present. navigation.

weaponized with ... viralweaponry.

[dialhearts]

trying to slowly microdose being here by logging in

[forsakenwitchery]

This is all my fault. Again! - Resident Evil Requiem

[viralweaponry]

MY TENDERNESS HAS GROWN TEETH. private resident evil multimuse. developed by rain.

[bioweaponry]

sloooowly been sending asks here. thank you for your patience!

[bioweaponry]

thinking of mia being hostile to the bsaa/dso/etc.... i know i said mia needs to get at least one solid punch on chris but i think her hostility extends to like. irrational as it sounds, genuinely anyone working with chris. after what happened in dulvey- in romania? yeah, she really doesn't trust anyone anymore. and the fact that no one seems to be on her side only makes her feel worse

[viralweaponry]

@bioweaponry liked! / mireu & abigail...2!

This response falls well within expected parameters. If anything, she supposes she's surprised only in that she's not actually dead. A great many people in the underworld know of Abigail, if only by reputation, and while Abigail can't place this one person specifically, she knows a victim of her kind of work when she sees one. Someone pointing a gun at her isn't surprising. If she was certain what came after truly would be the gnashing of teeth she's been promised, she would probably accept that.

"I helped you," Abigail says quietly, not moving otherwise, eyes flicking from the weapon to the person pointing it like neither is new or surprising. The model remains intact. "I didn't take the weapon, and I stopped the viral load from overloading your system." It isn't a lie. She'd watched the stranger go down in a fight, and she'd finished off the creature that did it, and she'd used one of the many antivirals on her person to ensure that they wouldn't wake up foaming at the mouth. Perhaps this person was never at any risk of that — a victim of Abigail's work, after all, is often above such things — but, as the adage goes, better safe than sorry. "I am not a threat to you at current."

[bioweaponry]

they didn't think she'd make it past fifteen. a generous number, really—— they know what happens to children in those facilities. but she'd always been treated a little differently from them, allowed to poke and prod at things like them. perhaps they shouldn't be surprised that she'd made it this far, but in a place like this? they don't blink as she speaks nor do they lower the gun from her forehead; they press harder. they dig the metal into flesh and bone. the only thing stopping them from pulling the trigger is——

❝ no one's touched this facility in years. how'd you make the cure? ❞ that's why they're out here in the first place. because there was no time to make a cure before the building was shut down, and the connections wanted that. the girl—— woman—— threat in front of them would render that pointless ... but the connections would also want her brilliance. the same way they want it. because if she could make a cure for an unknown virus——

( for the first time in years: a flicker of hope stirs in their chest. )

[thruteeth]

there's a brawl between sense and empathy. both present their cases with tension that settles in his chest and leaves leon with the unenvied task of reconsideration. short lived as it is, there's a distinct frown that spread in response ; she would die in here, alone and unaccounted for. forgotten by the staff who'd fled and left alone with the groans of those who had stayed. a bleak and undeserved fate. but would she survive under the lackluster care he has to offer any better ?

" i'll leave her a sign that i've been here. " the knife jutting out of the temple of a dead man, halfway down the stairs, seems adequate. dull and only there for those who knew where to look, the dso's insignia is weathered but present. not a reassurance he'd harbored great forethought towards, but if it'll lessen that sinking frown on her face ? he'd leave it.

" it's gonna be okay, " someone, somewhere, would have applauded his ability to lie to a child. speak with a stern, stable voice while in his belly his doubts were writhing. even this small, fragile hand leaves an ache in the bends of his festering palm. all the better she can't see him. " my name's leon ; i'm a cop. " close enough. put too many letters and too many big, complicated words out on the table and all it'd manage it complicating something already off-kilter murky.

his jacket would swallow her, but he thinks to offer it. some fickle scrap of comfort from a man she doesn't know, leading her from frying pan to fire. he thinks better and doesn't. elects to, instead, remain crouched, a hard stare sorting through the fog of eyes that look everywhere but at him. what the hell are you doing, kennedy..

" you gonna be okay if i pick you up ? " would he leave her to her own staggering pursuit if she refused ? down stairs, over corpses, through glass and blood and the strewn documents her life has been simplified into.. " i don't want you to fall. "

[bioweaponry]

❝ leon, ❞ she repeats, testing the foreign syllables on her tongue—— her voice is unsure, soft. like she doesn't fully trust him / she doesn't, is the thing. a small part of her still wants to, the hopeful part of her, because he's offering her a chance to escape her little cage—— but emily knows how the world is. how doctors use kindness to mask cruelty, how she's only let out when they want something from her. and he lets her out because he—— wants to help?

emily doesn't know what to do with that. she doesn't know what to say when he offers her a choice, unused to the idea of it. her fingers twitch in his hand. ❝ i ... ❞ she tries to hide the emotions on her face, the purse of her lips and the hesitation before she answers, but the quiet makes her queasy. he's waiting for me, she realizes. he's waiting for an answer.

something about that—— snaps her out of it. a learned reaction. ❝ okay. ❞ it's better than being dragged, kicking and screaming / it's better than walking silently, pitifully, to the pain that awaits her—— and that traitorous flicker of hope believes him when he says he doesn't want her to fall. her emotions run in circles, flowing to and from doubt and trust—— it exhausts her.

so emily simply removes her hand from leon's, moving it up to brace her palm against his shoulder instead to make herself—— small. easy to pick up. she stops thinking about it, and puts her life in his care.

[bioweaponry]

happy re8 day :]

[bioweaponry]

per this post i will be going through all my followers here and trying to send an ask to everyone i can! trying to make up for the lack of writing :* no need to like this post, if you're following me you'll get an ask (if your inbox is open), but if you'd like you can specify a muse!

[bioweaponry]

went to a con and dressed up as ada! my buddy is leon ^_^

[bioweaponry]

☺️☺️☺️ yay!

[viralweaponry]

me and eros are best friends so im allowed 2 steal his hcs and hes allowed 2 steal mine. thats friendship

[bioweaponry]

i need a thread where emily and leon meet for the first time after she's unmutated and she's scared of him- because while she only remembers bits and pieces of their encounter, she does remember the fear and pain<3

[viralweaponry]

@bioweaponry liked! / mireu & abigail!

"I'm just here as...an assistant," Abigail says after the silence and the staring, like she's answering an unasked question; it's strange that Father would allow her to be alone with a subject, even for a comparatively short amount of time. Perhaps it's a test, though she isn't sure of which of them. He must be very confident that she won't be killed. Abigail is, probably, just here to take notes and do data entry and learn - without - doing. She's very good, but still a child, and while Father might risk other unimpressive children's lives for her training, he's unlikely to allow her to risk damaging a subject this impressive. Nor are her handlers. 4-QMVIY. Mireu.

Despite the cognitive warping, she is aware that it is unusual to have a thirteen - year - old in these sorts of environments unless said thirteen - year - old is the one under the scalpel.

The tablet in her hands is nice. The Connections have impressive equipment, and she enters some data that was missed during the last test. "Compliance decreases duration," she says, sounding like a —— almost like a —— child for the first time since she's been here. Not the words, but the tone, just barely hopeful, just barely trying to help. Her eyes lower, moving briefly towards the door / these words don't justify suffering under the frameworks her father has devised, but attempts to assist subjects for non - manipulative reasons are outside her role, which can be dangerous in its own way. Father has said those words to her, sometimes about her own suffering, more often about the suffering of others. She knows the words are true. She dislikes causing needless suffering. "I understand the tests are unpleasant. Obedience will ensure the time spent in pain is minimal. Dr. Green is very skilled; he won't damage you unnecessarily, I promise."

[bioweaponry]

it is—— not what they expected.

they are used to the nameless scientists that filter through, each face blending into each other with the repetition of sterility to pain to cage. but they're able to do so because each is indistinguishable or unremarkable enough to do so, not when each one is bored and thinking of going home and uncaring of the system they're in. that is not the case with the little girl in front of them.

they stare, and something about her—— wakes them up. just for a moment, they feel like a civilian again, terrified of and detesting the inclusion of a child in this line of work. a softer, kinder, less broken version of them would do something, like any good person would. break her out, or hatch a plan to let her run away. this version of them does not. this version of them wonders if they can barter for their freedom with her as a hostage.

( it will not work, of course. the soldiers standing in the room would shoot them in the skull without hesitation, extract her, and leave them to come back on their own. )

❝ ... are you speaking from experience? ❞ the words are gravelly, low. perhaps the people listening in, perhaps dr. green, would hear them and believe they are trying to empathize with the girl, trying to find kinship in experiments and cruelty and torture. no—— they are trying to parse what, exactly, the girl has done. and will do. ❝ it sounds like i'm not the first experiment you've helped with before. ❞

[viralweaponry]

what a new oc does to a mf (gets him to attempt semi-realism for the first time in like 6 yrs)

[viralweaponry]

They're so scared of me.

Mia knows the thought is irrational —— is born out of her guilt and her grief and a desire for easy boxes. A desire to be too monstrous for danger. Based on what little she knows about Grace Ashcroft, she has seen far worse than one lonely woman. She smiles ruefully to herself, shakes the thought away, returning her focus to the stuttering ( but still strong ) young agent. They remind her of Rose.

"No...I can answer them all." Mia dips her head towards the chair across from the couch she's using, inviting Grace to sit. "Given that Connections is now..." She winces, grimacing. She'd known the work she'd done was evil. But she hadn't realized how evil —— or how extensive. "I want to do what I can to help, especially since more of the others are dead or unlikely to talk."

[bioweaponry]

grace sits down slowly, afraid to leave much of a mark in the woman's home. she's kind, kinder than she'd thought for someone with ties to the connections. but grace doesn't have much to compare mia to, aside from gideon or zeno. so grace sets down her folders and pulls out a notepad and pen. she keeps her hands moving to stop thinking about it, digging through her bag and running through a mental checklist—— ❝ o-oh! right. ❞

she pulls out a camera, angles it on the side table just right / truly following in her mother's footsteps, she thinks. ❝ as mentioned over email—— i'll be recording. for, um, record keeping. ❞ another beat. grace bites her lip before offering a concession. ❝ if you'd like ... i can pause the recording anytime. i-if you'd prefer to keep some things off the record. ❞