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@c0d3-v
Jill Valentine profile. Open for AUs.
Casual, mature, and dark themes, open for any crossovers and friendly
Doc: Here
• Side blog, follows from @knochenkarussell
• Dark / Horror / NSFW topics
• Single muse
• Semi-selective and slow activity
- Headcanon collection
'Move My Muse' Prompts
add '+ reverse' to reverse; bonus points for context clues
[drag] my muse by their arm
[lead] my muse by their hand
[hurry] my muse, prodding their back
[guide] my muse, holding their shoulders
[tackle] my muse, knocking them to the ground
[bear hug] my muse, staggering them
[yank] my muse in, by their clothes
[pull] my muse in, by their hands
[draw] my muse in, by their hips
[provoke] my muse closer, with a vulgar gesture
[signal] my muse closer, with a hand wave
[plead] my muse closer, with frantic arm movements
[lure] my muse closer with a smile and a look
[drop] down with my muse, in cover, under fire
[settle] down with my muse, in a hug, by a fire
[lay] down with my muse, in a cuddle, sparking a fire
"How many shelves can I drop on your head until you stop sniffing after me? Seriously, don't stare at a lady from behind like that!" - Valentine @c0d3-v
“I’m a man that can withstand a thousand shelves”
He says proudly. He has been bonked, hit, scratched, banged by a lot of stuff. Usually lamps and pots. Sometimes pots filled with water. He’s proud to say he can handle anything! Even shelves. Probably. He’s never gotten a shelf thrown on him.
“Also I don’t sniff, sweetheart.”
He puts his hands on his hips, sassily.
“I stalk. Sniffing is for creeps. I’m not a creep, I’m a professional Killer.”
He rolls his eyes under his mask and huffs
"You are so lucky that this evil sky thing doesn't let me have a gun." Her response gruff and fast, followed by a grumpy glare as she was lounging lazily on the floor, back resting against the wall.
"Professional killer, huh? You're only saying that cause you're paid to make innocent people suffer. You really enjoy that, huh? Well, I guess the most professional thing about you may be the gloves, but I doubt you will wash them regularly. Don't wanna know how many germs hog in there."
Jill has always been a rather unfriendly and suspicious woman, but ever since she was trapped in the fog, her attitude increases with each trial she goes through. She will help other survivors with vigor but then faces killers with hot-headed rage.
As she sits, she grabs the can of energy she managed to pull from the vending machine on RPD and opens it, taking sip as she still glares at the killer.
He stares at her, unamused. He thinks he can take a bullet. But this girl was getting on his nerves. He has good hygiene! Well..before the fog, they don’t have any showers here. And he won’t risk showering in the lake, he has shame.
“Mind you, I kill for my amusement and my stories. Nobody pays me, honey.”
He starts and then stops for a second, he crosses his arms and leans back.
“Also I have good hygiene! My gloves get washed in the lake every three kills.”
That’s a lie, but he does wash them. The blood starts layering up and makes it hard for him to move, which makes him uncomfortable and annoyed. So he does wash them. He stares at her drink, he’s gonna do something petty.
He smacks the drink out of her hand, cause..she pissed him off and he also wants a drink. So either we both have drinks or none of us do
Her drink tumbles loudly to the ground, spilling as it rolls towards the killer as the liquid spills loudly sizzling onto the floor. Jill hisses in annoyance and moves up to avoid getting sticky sugary stains. "Hey, what the fuck?! That was a good drink! Now the floor will smell. God damn rude, that's what you are." She berates him, glaring at him.
Yeah, maybe she had that coming for mocking the Ghostface like that.
Her hand twitches and her gaze fidgets between him and the can. She picks the can up to place it upright and stop the liquid from spilling out. Then she crosses her arms herself, mirroring his earlier posture.
"So now what? I can't be mad at you for making me suffer? Is that why you act up? Listen, I will never get the enjoyment killing shit. But if you're grumpy at my drink, we're gonna deal with this differently."
Jill grumbles and steps ahead, dragging herself from the wall to head back to the flickering vending machine. With a frustrated sigh, she leers inside, then turns at the killer. Her head nods towards the machine. "Can you be a nice guy and help me with this thing? Im sure you're strong enough to break the glass. I'll usually try and lock-pick the lock for the door, but that takes a while." Her question is asked with a neutral tone, yet not hostile for once. The survivor is even stepping back a little bit to make room for the masked slasher.
He thinks he can break the glass with his knife, he doesn’t want to look like an idiot if he charges at it and it doesn’t break.
He walks over and unsheathes his knife, he makes sure there’s a bit of space so he can get more force..and he stabs the glass, shattering it. Since he’s wearing gloves, he isn’t bothered by the glass. He puts his hand through and grabs two drinks. He throws her one.
“Cheers, princess”
He pops open his soda and uncovers his mouth. He gulps down the soda, not waiting for her. He doesn’t know if this her first time seeing half his face or not, not like he cares.
Well, she does notice the bit of skin exposed under the mask but Jill does understand the concept of a mask. She did not expect him to drink through the mask so of course he had to lift it. Not the ahe minded.
The survivor opens the can with one hand before taking slow but nice sips, smiling and humming as she tastes the soda. Taking a break, she wipes her mouth with her sleeved arm and blinks at the killer in front of her.
"Doesn't it get hot and all under that mask? Not that I cared, I just remember wearing masks and helmets in military training, and I hated any bad air circulation." Valentine asks, more curious than anything.
It was weird how she could go from absolutely pissed to quite nice and talkative in a short time. She just didn't know if she had to distract now or if the Ghostface would simply leave her alone after this encounter without her having to worry about getting stabbed.
Danny sips his drink for a while, wipes his mouth, and then looks at her. The question…he gets asked that a lot…mostly by non masked killers. It’s not a question that offends him.
“Well, you get used to it.”
He hums, his voice clearer without the mask and the voice changer. He throws his empty can in a random direction, not caring since it’s the entity’s realm.
“I wear a mask all day..and I remove it when I know there’s no more trials left…and then I get comfy around the camp fire.”
He smirks. He knows Valentine isn’t weak—hell, he’s killed her multiple times before, and she always put up a great fight. He knows he can kill her again. But he chooses not to, she’s entertaining him.
Jill downs her drink like she hasn't been hydrating in a while, head tilting back the can empties within a few minutes down her tongue.
She then crumbles the soda can loudly before sighing and getting up, putting the crinkling mess into one of her pockets. The survivor liked keeping those to use them as a disraction or to craft something.
"Mhm I see, I see. Makes sense." His explanation made sense. It felt awkwardly both tense and nice to have such an almost casual interaction with him. Question was how to remove herself from him right now without escalating things which could happen very fast given how little she could calculate the Ghostface.
Testing she moves backwards along the wall of the hallway just one step. "I didn't think this would be an activity today but it's fun. For now."
> Heya, mun here. Sorry for the slow responses, I work in health care, and shifts are a little draining at the moment. I'll get more active as soon as I can! You're all free to send asks, though! <
"How many shelves can I drop on your head until you stop sniffing after me? Seriously, don't stare at a lady from behind like that!" - Valentine @c0d3-v
“I’m a man that can withstand a thousand shelves”
He says proudly. He has been bonked, hit, scratched, banged by a lot of stuff. Usually lamps and pots. Sometimes pots filled with water. He’s proud to say he can handle anything! Even shelves. Probably. He’s never gotten a shelf thrown on him.
“Also I don’t sniff, sweetheart.”
He puts his hands on his hips, sassily.
“I stalk. Sniffing is for creeps. I’m not a creep, I’m a professional Killer.”
He rolls his eyes under his mask and huffs
"You are so lucky that this evil sky thing doesn't let me have a gun." Her response gruff and fast, followed by a grumpy glare as she was lounging lazily on the floor, back resting against the wall.
"Professional killer, huh? You're only saying that cause you're paid to make innocent people suffer. You really enjoy that, huh? Well, I guess the most professional thing about you may be the gloves, but I doubt you will wash them regularly. Don't wanna know how many germs hog in there."
Jill has always been a rather unfriendly and suspicious woman, but ever since she was trapped in the fog, her attitude increases with each trial she goes through. She will help other survivors with vigor but then faces killers with hot-headed rage.
As she sits, she grabs the can of energy she managed to pull from the vending machine on RPD and opens it, taking sip as she still glares at the killer.
He stares at her, unamused. He thinks he can take a bullet. But this girl was getting on his nerves. He has good hygiene! Well..before the fog, they don’t have any showers here. And he won’t risk showering in the lake, he has shame.
“Mind you, I kill for my amusement and my stories. Nobody pays me, honey.”
He starts and then stops for a second, he crosses his arms and leans back.
“Also I have good hygiene! My gloves get washed in the lake every three kills.”
That’s a lie, but he does wash them. The blood starts layering up and makes it hard for him to move, which makes him uncomfortable and annoyed. So he does wash them. He stares at her drink, he’s gonna do something petty.
He smacks the drink out of her hand, cause..she pissed him off and he also wants a drink. So either we both have drinks or none of us do
Her drink tumbles loudly to the ground, spilling as it rolls towards the killer as the liquid spills loudly sizzling onto the floor. Jill hisses in annoyance and moves up to avoid getting sticky sugary stains. "Hey, what the fuck?! That was a good drink! Now the floor will smell. God damn rude, that's what you are." She berates him, glaring at him.
Yeah, maybe she had that coming for mocking the Ghostface like that.
Her hand twitches and her gaze fidgets between him and the can. She picks the can up to place it upright and stop the liquid from spilling out. Then she crosses her arms herself, mirroring his earlier posture.
"So now what? I can't be mad at you for making me suffer? Is that why you act up? Listen, I will never get the enjoyment killing shit. But if you're grumpy at my drink, we're gonna deal with this differently."
Jill grumbles and steps ahead, dragging herself from the wall to head back to the flickering vending machine. With a frustrated sigh, she leers inside, then turns at the killer. Her head nods towards the machine. "Can you be a nice guy and help me with this thing? Im sure you're strong enough to break the glass. I'll usually try and lock-pick the lock for the door, but that takes a while." Her question is asked with a neutral tone, yet not hostile for once. The survivor is even stepping back a little bit to make room for the masked slasher.
He thinks he can break the glass with his knife, he doesn’t want to look like an idiot if he charges at it and it doesn’t break.
He walks over and unsheathes his knife, he makes sure there’s a bit of space so he can get more force..and he stabs the glass, shattering it. Since he’s wearing gloves, he isn’t bothered by the glass. He puts his hand through and grabs two drinks. He throws her one.
“Cheers, princess”
He pops open his soda and uncovers his mouth. He gulps down the soda, not waiting for her. He doesn’t know if this her first time seeing half his face or not, not like he cares.
Well, she does notice the bit of skin exposed under the mask but Jill does understand the concept of a mask. She did not expect him to drink through the mask so of course he had to lift it. Not the ahe minded.
The survivor opens the can with one hand before taking slow but nice sips, smiling and humming as she tastes the soda. Taking a break, she wipes her mouth with her sleeved arm and blinks at the killer in front of her.
"Doesn't it get hot and all under that mask? Not that I cared, I just remember wearing masks and helmets in military training, and I hated any bad air circulation." Valentine asks, more curious than anything.
It was weird how she could go from absolutely pissed to quite nice and talkative in a short time. She just didn't know if she had to distract now or if the Ghostface would simply leave her alone after this encounter without her having to worry about getting stabbed.
"How many shelves can I drop on your head until you stop sniffing after me? Seriously, don't stare at a lady from behind like that!" - Valentine @c0d3-v
“I’m a man that can withstand a thousand shelves”
He says proudly. He has been bonked, hit, scratched, banged by a lot of stuff. Usually lamps and pots. Sometimes pots filled with water. He’s proud to say he can handle anything! Even shelves. Probably. He’s never gotten a shelf thrown on him.
“Also I don’t sniff, sweetheart.”
He puts his hands on his hips, sassily.
“I stalk. Sniffing is for creeps. I’m not a creep, I’m a professional Killer.”
He rolls his eyes under his mask and huffs
"You are so lucky that this evil sky thing doesn't let me have a gun." Her response gruff and fast, followed by a grumpy glare as she was lounging lazily on the floor, back resting against the wall.
"Professional killer, huh? You're only saying that cause you're paid to make innocent people suffer. You really enjoy that, huh? Well, I guess the most professional thing about you may be the gloves, but I doubt you will wash them regularly. Don't wanna know how many germs hog in there."
Jill has always been a rather unfriendly and suspicious woman, but ever since she was trapped in the fog, her attitude increases with each trial she goes through. She will help other survivors with vigor but then faces killers with hot-headed rage.
As she sits, she grabs the can of energy she managed to pull from the vending machine on RPD and opens it, taking sip as she still glares at the killer.
He stares at her, unamused. He thinks he can take a bullet. But this girl was getting on his nerves. He has good hygiene! Well..before the fog, they don’t have any showers here. And he won’t risk showering in the lake, he has shame.
“Mind you, I kill for my amusement and my stories. Nobody pays me, honey.”
He starts and then stops for a second, he crosses his arms and leans back.
“Also I have good hygiene! My gloves get washed in the lake every three kills.”
That’s a lie, but he does wash them. The blood starts layering up and makes it hard for him to move, which makes him uncomfortable and annoyed. So he does wash them. He stares at her drink, he’s gonna do something petty.
He smacks the drink out of her hand, cause..she pissed him off and he also wants a drink. So either we both have drinks or none of us do
Her drink tumbles loudly to the ground, spilling as it rolls towards the killer as the liquid spills loudly sizzling onto the floor. Jill hisses in annoyance and moves up to avoid getting sticky sugary stains. "Hey, what the fuck?! That was a good drink! Now the floor will smell. God damn rude, that's what you are." She berates him, glaring at him.
Yeah, maybe she had that coming for mocking the Ghostface like that.
Her hand twitches and her gaze fidgets between him and the can. She picks the can up to place it upright and stop the liquid from spilling out. Then she crosses her arms herself, mirroring his earlier posture.
"So now what? I can't be mad at you for making me suffer? Is that why you act up? Listen, I will never get the enjoyment killing shit. But if you're grumpy at my drink, we're gonna deal with this differently."
Jill grumbles and steps ahead, dragging herself from the wall to head back to the flickering vending machine. With a frustrated sigh, she leers inside, then turns at the killer. Her head nods towards the machine. "Can you be a nice guy and help me with this thing? Im sure you're strong enough to break the glass. I'll usually try and lock-pick the lock for the door, but that takes a while." Her question is asked with a neutral tone, yet not hostile for once. The survivor is even stepping back a little bit to make room for the masked slasher.
"How many shelves can I drop on your head until you stop sniffing after me? Seriously, don't stare at a lady from behind like that!" - Valentine @c0d3-v
“I’m a man that can withstand a thousand shelves”
He says proudly. He has been bonked, hit, scratched, banged by a lot of stuff. Usually lamps and pots. Sometimes pots filled with water. He’s proud to say he can handle anything! Even shelves. Probably. He’s never gotten a shelf thrown on him.
“Also I don’t sniff, sweetheart.”
He puts his hands on his hips, sassily.
“I stalk. Sniffing is for creeps. I’m not a creep, I’m a professional Killer.”
He rolls his eyes under his mask and huffs
"You are so lucky that this evil sky thing doesn't let me have a gun." Her response gruff and fast, followed by a grumpy glare as she was lounging lazily on the floor, back resting against the wall.
"Professional killer, huh? You're only saying that cause you're paid to make innocent people suffer. You really enjoy that, huh? Well, I guess the most professional thing about you may be the gloves, but I doubt you will wash them regularly. Don't wanna know how many germs hog in there."
Jill has always been a rather unfriendly and suspicious woman, but ever since she was trapped in the fog, her attitude increases with each trial she goes through. She will help other survivors with vigor but then faces killers with hot-headed rage.
As she sits, she grabs the can of energy she managed to pull from the vending machine on RPD and opens it, taking sip as she still glares at the killer.
Send 🌃 for our muses to go on a late night walk together
New Year's eve prompt - just a casual idea to celebrate smoothly.
Send "cheers" or "🥂" to have the muses cheer together and have a glass of champagne together to celebrate the New Year.
"Can I ask for hair care tips? Yours seems pretty well taken care of. Any tips for a curious woman?" @c0d3-v
Well Sugar, not sure how much I can help ya. I use the three-in-one soap we have on base
"Should've expected the lazy treatment. But you're also the one calling me Sugar, bah. So, Philly. What else is there to you besides lazy self-care?"
Lady with trust issues and a resting bitch case is looking for social contacts. Alcoholic and smoker, fought zombies and more. Grumpy attitude but easily persuaded with donuts or beer. Any casual setting appreciated. Im willing to adjust to different AU's for crossover writings.
Headcanon facts:
Jill lives in Raccoon City or New York, depending on the universe and environment.
V worked at the military and at special forces. In a modern and casual setting, she settled down with office work in the police department and assists here and there.
Some of her unique skills are:
Athletics and fitness
Motorcycling
Diving
Lock-picking
Equitation
Piano
"What's your favorite insult, little one?" - @c0d3-v
just the plain old “asshole.” it’s simple and straight to the point.
"Sounds easy enough. I was expecting worse, so that's positive on your end. Im Valentine, by the way. Nice to meet you."
glad i could make a good first impression. it’s nice to meet you too, valentine. you can call me ‘gaz,’ it’s a lot easier to say than… ‘little one.’
"Gaz, huh? Little one is fun, too. But alright." She gives a neutral and cold but not threatening expression. Her hands are stuffed into pockets of her jeans, and her back is leaning against the wall.
"What's your favorite insult, little one?" - @c0d3-v
just the plain old “asshole.” it’s simple and straight to the point.
"Sounds easy enough. I was expecting worse, so that's positive on your end. Im Valentine, by the way. Nice to meet you."
"Greetings or something. Do you fight the way you speak? I'm asking out of curiosity." Sips coffee @c0d3-v
Hello
Nah, I don't talk much to strangers outside of this silly little app unless I have to.
But I do enjoy a good fight. Gun fight, fist fight, you name it.
"I see. That does sound like a prude little soldier. I'm glad I jumped the ship earlier to do more civil work . What do you work as now, may I ask? Still military jobs, or...?"
Prude? Little? Not the words I'd use, really.
That information is classified, doll. Can't really talk about that stuff, sorry.
Feel free to tell me about yourself, though.
I wouldn't use the word doll for me either. But that's on you.
Classified, huh? And here I was hoping for something rather less boring on this thing called the internet.
And no thank you, any additional information requires a price. Although I'm easily persuaded with booze or smoke.
You're not a doll, I'm not a prude (definitely not little). A truce, then.
Jill's your name? Alright. Name's Keegan.
I can work with that price, Jill, and I have no problem sharing a smoke or my whisky.
If it's worth it.
Whiskey? That sounds good to me.
Yea, my name is Jill. Jill Valentine. Some just call me Valentine alone. Or slurs.
I usually just go for some canned beer, but something stronger is always welcome. Do you want a cigarette in return?
"Greetings or something. Do you fight the way you speak? I'm asking out of curiosity." Sips coffee @c0d3-v
Hello
Nah, I don't talk much to strangers outside of this silly little app unless I have to.
But I do enjoy a good fight. Gun fight, fist fight, you name it.
"I see. That does sound like a prude little soldier. I'm glad I jumped the ship earlier to do more civil work . What do you work as now, may I ask? Still military jobs, or...?"
Prude? Little? Not the words I'd use, really.
That information is classified, doll. Can't really talk about that stuff, sorry.
Feel free to tell me about yourself, though.
I wouldn't use the word doll for me either. But that's on you.
Classified, huh? And here I was hoping for something rather less boring on this thing called the internet.
And no thank you, any additional information requires a price. Although I'm easily persuaded with booze or smoke.
"Greetings or something. Do you fight the way you speak? I'm asking out of curiosity." Sips coffee @c0d3-v
Hello
Nah, I don't talk much to strangers outside of this silly little app unless I have to.
But I do enjoy a good fight. Gun fight, fist fight, you name it.
"I see. That does sound like a prude little soldier. I'm glad I jumped the ship earlier to do more civil work . What do you work as now, may I ask? Still military jobs, or...?"
