fyi!! this presentation post will be modified constantly | last update: June 17 2026
— About me and this account ✧
🐺 | The name's Lumi or Luu for short🫡
🐺 | My pronouns are she/her (ella)✨️
🐺 | El español es mi lengua nativa!! 🇩🇴 but I'm fluent in English as a 2nd language and striving to learn more, mainly portuguese and catalan🫶
🐺 | This blog is made with the intentions for me to talk about my interests and entertain people that share said passions as well<3
🐺 | NOTE!! I'm in no way a wealthy or influential person so if you need help I can only help by amplifying your message but nothing more :[
— My interests ✧
DNI list: misogynists, sexists, ableists, xenophobes, racists, zionists, antisemites, islamophobes, LGBTQIA+ phobics, animal haters, and anyone who doesn't have fcking empathy and endorses generally hateful behavior
🪷 | I'm in a lot, and I mean A LOT of fandoms, so if you'd like to inquire you can ask, but my current focuses are Football, Formula 1 and A Song of Ice and Fire media 🫶
currently brain rotting about: Chreon<3
🪷 | I am a fangirl through and through so i have a LOT of media crushes that I talk about over here and I'm definitely not casual and nonchalant about 😭😞
currents favs rn: Checo Pérez from F1 and Ter Stegen from Barça💕
🪷 | Before I get into this next segment, as much as I understand fan culture and behavior, I do NOT ENDORSE actually hateful behavior and agendas against athletes if they are simply on a bad run in their career, unless they themselves are spreading hate, so if you do not enjoy the content I post of my favs just don't fcking interact.
🪷 | As of now I've not been so active in the F1 space apart from keeping up with the bare minimum of my favs drivers but I try my best to be updated on everything happening around the sport🫡
Team: Mercedes ✧ Drivers: Checo, Yuki, Oscar
🪷 | Apart from keeping up with the ever flowing drama of football I am a culé through and through (and anti-madridista by extension), started watching since the 23/24 season and since then I've been eager to learn more about every possible aspect of this sport, but overall I'm here for the passion🫡💙❤️
Club: FC Barcelona ✧ Favs: Ter Stegen, Raphinha, Frenkie De Jong ✧ Ocassional support/watch: Liverpool FC, Spain NT (Barça), Argentina NT (Leo Messi), Brazil NT (Raphinha)
🪷 | My ' #Luu rants ' segment is where I respond to inbox questions as well as discuss topics of my interest✨
🪷 | Safe space for shipping including RPF!! just please be respectful and do not endorse negative antics like non-con and sexualization of underage peeps🙏
Soccer players are the horses of sports. They run around in fields for hours on end. They stub their toe and they die. They fall and they die. They run into each other and
Trigger/content warnings: minor mentions of past loss, mentions of anxiety, alcohol, unwanted attention/harassment, bullying (in a workplace)
Description: The different ways of Chris Redfield, Leon Kennedy, and Carlos Oliveria being protective
Notes: Gender-neutral reader. These are just 3 ficlets I made a while ago. You can imagine any version of Chris and Leon you want, but I think the scenarios themselves match more with the older versions ♡
Chris Redfield
He'd be a shield. Heavy and unmovable. He would be a silent, anxious protective, worried for you, refusing to ever come close to losing you.
You were out late and your phone died. Because of how many people he's lost, he immediately panics when you aren't back at your normal time or answering your phone.
You finished work for the day and packed up before leaving the building, the breeze cutting through the warm air, soothing your sweat covered skin. It had been a long day, borderline trapped inside that building.
Instead of going straight home, you took out your phone and messaged your best friend, wanting to meet up with them. They agreed, and you met up at your local café for a coffee and snack.
"What have you been up to?" They asked, nails lightly tapping against the cup of their caramel latte.
"Nothing much. Just work," you sighed, looking down at your drink. "You?" It had been about 3 months since you two had met up in real life, and you promised them you would soon. It was a lovely evening, and you had nothing better to do before you had to go back home to Chris.
You two spoke until the sun dipped below the horizon, causing a gorgeous pink, blue, and red scene across the sky, thin, fluffy clouds scattered about.
"I should really get going. I need to get back home before my boyfriend gets worried," you said, crumpling the food wrapper and grabbing your cup.
Your friend smiled, nodding. "I need to get back, too." They said. "I promised my family I'd cook tonight."
You got in the car, dragging your seat belt across yourself. It wasn't until you started the car that you gasped. You needed to go shopping. There was nothing in the house.
You groaned, grabbing your phone, pulling Chris' number up.
'Hey, honey. I'm gonna be a bit longer than usual. Need to go shopping.'
Just as you went to press send, your phone went dark. You dropped your phone on the seat, groaning into your hands. You needed to go shopping, Chris wasn't aware, and now you feel awful because you know damn well he is going to panic.
You considered just driving past. You were exhausted, and the dead phone felt like an omen. But you remembered the empty carton of eggs and the bag of coffee that was mostly dust. Chris had a 0500 start at the base tomorrow, and the thought of him navigating one of those mornings without a proper breakfast made your guilt outweigh your fatigue. He also wouldn't have enough time to go get it himself. You had little choice but to go shopping.
You sighed through your nose, starting the car. If you were quick, you'd be able to be a little less late.
You pulled into a parking space at the supermarket, getting out and walking in. It wasn't extremely busy at 9pm on a Monday.
The bright lights made your work-tired eyes burn a little, but you grabbed a shopping cart and continued on, grabbing bread, milk, eggs, all that, different meats, his favourite protein filled snacks, like mixed nuts and beef jerkey. All the essentials.
And, of course, his favourite instant coffee. He loved unsweetened black coffee in his flask, one of the only things about him that you didn't understand.
You were waiting for the cashier to print the receipt. If you left now, you'd be home in 15 minutes. He's been home for 3 hours by now. He's definitely called someone at this point, you thought.
You knew his struggles and anxiety with people being late. He's lost one too many people, and it made you feel like a piece of shit for forgetting you had to go shopping.
You drove back as quickly as you could, relief flowing your insides as the places that were usually full of traffic were mostly clear.
When you finally pulled into the driveway, you see him standing on the front porch. He isn't pacing. He's perfectly still, watching the street. The second your headlights hit him, you see his shoulders drop about 2 inches, the only indicator of the tension he was knotted in.
He meets you at the car door and takes the bags without a word. His hand lingered on yours as he took one of the bags for slightly longer than necessary.
You followed him inside, and he set the bags on the counter. "You didn't answer your phone," he said, attempting to sound casual. But his voice was deeper and a little rougher than usual.
"I know, I'm so, so sorry," You said, sweat clinging to your forehead. "I left work and met one of my friends, then i forgot I needed to go shopping, and I tried to message you, but my phone died just as I went to hit send, and I tried to hurry in the store, so I might have forgotten something, and it was a disaster." You rushed out.
You went to continue apologising, but his hand grabbed your arm, his strength, even when he was being gentle, cutting through your thoughts.
"Hey, hey, calm down." He said in that voice he knew silenced your brain. "It's okay, it's not your fault." He paused, before saying, "But don't let that happen again, baby. I need to know if you're going to be late. It's never as quiet as it looks out there."
You nodded, wrapping your arms around his rock solid but warm torso, resting your head on his chest as he returned the gesture.
"You should go to bed. You have to be up early tomorrow," you said into his chest, and you felt a small huff of laughter escape him.
"You really underestimate me, don't you?" He said, playfulness creeping into his earlier heavy tone. "I've gone to work on little to no sleep multiple times, and I've been just fine."
You rolled your eyes slightly. You could feel the tension cracking and melting away slowly. "Yeah, well, you should still try to go to sleep. It's 10pm. And you always wake up an hour or two before you need to leave."
He nodded. He never argued with you when it came to his physical health because you were relentless. Enough water when he was working out, more food than just protein filled dinners, not too much coffee.
You both walked upstairs, and the first thing you did was get in the shower, washing away all the evidence from the day at work and the panic of being late.
Once you came out, he had that look in his eyes. The look that said he wanted you to come closer without asking. He was never extremely forward, but you had learned to read him.
You moved closer, sitting next to him and letting him pull you close, pressing a kiss to your lips. His lips were soft against yours, his hand gently cupping the back of your neck. You know how anxious he could get when people he loved didn't show up on time or answer him. He's seen too many things, experienced too much loss. You know he didn't want to come close to letting it happen again.
His lips were a little rougher against yours than usual. Probably him trying to convince himself that you're really here. To so many other partners, being late every now and then wouldn't make them panic, but for Chris, his brain raced through worst case scenarios.
When you deepened the kiss, his breath hitched, a low sound vibrating in his chest that was half sigh and half shudder. His hands, that were so steady on a rifle, shifted to cup your face. His thumbs brushed over your cheekbones with a shakiness that made your heart ache.
He pulled back just an inch, forehead resting against yours. His eyes were still closed, his eyelashes fluttering as he slowly breathed in.
"I went through every possibility," he confessed, his voice a gravelly murmur that barely carried in the quiet of the room. He sounded almost embarrassed of his brain. "I keep telling myself I'm overprotective, that I'm suffocating you. But then the house gets too quiet, and I can't breathe."
You reached up, running your fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck. "I'm here," you murmured, matching his volume. "I'm safe. I'm not going anywhere."
He let out a long, shaky exhale, finally leaning his full weight into you as he tucked his head into the crook of your neck. The tension that had been coiled in his spine since 7pm finally snapped, leaving him heavy and warm against you.
Leon Kennedy
He would be a sentinel. Observant and tactical. His protectiveness isn't a wall, but a constant eye scanning every crowd, making sure it's exactly as it should be. Safe.
Someone was bothering you at a bar. With years of training, he's incredibly observant and reads your discomfort without saying a word, stepping in
You were sitting on a chair that was rather uncomfortable with a man talking practically in your ear. Could this night get any worse?
You had come to the bar to decompress from the stressful past few weeks. Work had been chaotic, the family drama had gotten worse, and one of your friends had ghosted you out of absolute nowhere, even going as far to pretend not to see you in public, which absolutely shattered your heart.
Now, you have some random creep saying perverted things in your ear, the potent smell of alcohol invading your senses. You had told him, politely, to leave you alone many times, even moved seats, but he wasn't letting up, and you were half convinced to stop being mannered and tell him to fuck off.
You ignored the words coming out of his mouth to your best ability. His words, "Is that what you're wearing for me? Because it’s working. Why don't we get out of here?", "You don't need to play hard to get. I know exactly what a person like you is looking for, and I'm right here," were freaking you out beyond belief.
You asked the bartender for another drink. This wasn't making your week any better.
"Oh, so you'll talk to her? Not me, huh?" The man said, shifting impossibly closer.
Something in you finally gave way, and you couldn't ignore him anymore. "If you keep on inching closer, you're going to make me fall off the chair. Can you move back, or, even better, just fucking leave." You snapped, leaning your head against your hand as you waited for your drink.
"Oh, a feisty one, huh?" He chuckled, sending a disgusted shiver down your spine. "I like that."
This man was not going to leave you alone. You wanted to leave, but you came here by bus. You couldn't drive with all the alcohol, you couldn't walk the hour back in the dark alone, and you couldn't catch the bus with all your money spent on drinks.
As the night went on, the relentless man became more and more impatient.
"I didn't ask if you were busy, I asked what time we're leaving. Stop making this difficult."
"You keep saying 'no,' but your eyes say something else. I think you just like the chase, don't you?"
"I bet you aren't this quiet when you're behind closed doors. How about we go find out?"
It was never-ending and disgusting and so exhausting.
You were contemplating calling someone, whether it was a member of your already very stressed family or your friend who apparently no longer cared about you.
Before you could even get close to clumsily grabbing your phone, alcohol making your aim awkward, you felt a hand rest on your shoulder. Just as you were about to turn to the man to tell him to get off, you noticed it was someone else behind you.
"They're with me," the new man said. His voice was deep and steady, dropping like an anchor in the middle of the man’s aggressive rambling. "You can leave."
The stranger scoffed, throwing his hands up in a fake gesture of innocence. "They never said they were taken."
"I shouldn't have to," you muttered under your breath, still leaning against your hand.
"Well, you better watch out," the man spat, directing a jagged look at the new man. "They led me on the whole time, knowing they were in a relationship. Good luck with that."
"I never-" The words caught in your throat, a mix of shock and anger, but the man didn't stay to hear it. He vanished into the crowd.
You let out a long, defeated sigh, your shoulders finally dropping from around your ears. The new man didn't hesitate. He slid into the empty chair, claiming the space.
"You okay?" he asked. His voice was different now, softer.
You nodded slowly, finally looking up to take him in. He had tired eyes and a look of someone who had traveled a thousand miles just to get to this chair. "Fine. Just... thank you. Who are you?"
"Name's Leon," he said, offering a small, ghost of a smile.
His leather jacket was tight around his broad shoulders. No wonder the man left. He was huge compared to him.
"You need a ride home?"
You hesitated, lips parting slightly. You didn't want any more creepy men. You were already hazy from the alcohol.
"I don't want to force you. You can say no," he said, amusement coating his tone. Probably at how nervous you were to say no.
You shook your head, "No, it's fine. I don't have a way to get back, anyway." You said. Your words slurred slightly.
He nodded. He knew exactly what to do, and taking advantage of you was not one of those things. You were agreeing easily because you were drunk and he wasn't being threatening. He knew that, and he wasn't about to exploit you.
He stood up, helping you up. "Wanna tell me where you live?"
You said the address and road, and he nodded in familiarity, leading you out into the cold, dark air.
He led you over to his sleek black car, opening the door for you. You climbed in, clumsily putting your seat belt on. Your hands were always the most affected when you were drunk.
It was weirdly warm despite being parked in the cold air, and it smelled just like him. Leather, musk, and some sort of fresh cologne.
You knew you shouldn't be getting into a car with a man you didn't know, but the alternative, the man at the bar or the long walk home felt so much more dangerous. Something about the way Leon moved, steadily and calmly, made your clouded brain decide he was the exception.
He got in and started the car. As he drove down the roads, he didn't try to start much conversation with you. He could see how dazed you were.
The car was almost completely silent. The music was dimmed down from what you assumed it would normally be. The soft clicks of the indicator were incredibly grounding, and every time he shifted gears, his arm brushed near yours.
Eventually, your head drifted back against the headrest, the world blurring into a haze of streetlights and buildings. Your eyes began to flutter closed, the exhaustion of the day finally winning.
"Hey," Leon’s voice cut through the fog, accompanied by a gentle tap on your arm. "Stay awake. We’ll be there in twenty minutes."
You blinked hard, refocusing on him. The dash lights cast a blue glow over his sharp features, highlighting the focused set of his jaw.
"Sorry," you mumbled, your tongue still heavy.
"Don't be. Just keep your eyes open a little longer," he murmured.
Once you got home, he got out, walking around to your side. When he opened the door, the cool night air rushed in, but it was quickly replaced by the heat radiating from him as he leaned into your space. He moved slowly, his chest nearly brushing your shoulder to unbuckle your seat belt.
He helped you out. You almost collapsed on your weak legs, and his arms caught your waist. "Easy," he murmured, his voice a low vibration that seemed to hum right through you.
He led you through your own front door after you had managed to unlock it with his help.
"You're gonna be okay?" He asked. He didn't just look at you, he looked at the room, checking the interior before his eyes settled back on yours. He helped you onto the couch, his grip lingering just a second until he was sure your balance had held.
"I'll be fine now," you whispered
A small, tired smile ghosted his lips. He reached out, his thumb grazing the back of your hand in a brief gesture. "Lock the door behind me, yeah?"
He didn't wait for a reply, already moving towards the exit. He closed the door gently, with a soft click.
Carlos Oliveria
He’d be a rock. Comforting and grounding. His protectiveness isn't heavy like a burden. It's steady.
You had a stressful day with someone at work, and you're struggling to come down from it. Carlos notices it the minute you come home.
You packed your belongings into your bag. Today was god awful, and you felt weak for letting it affect you. Miller's words rung in your head like a never-ending bell.
"I’m actually impressed you finished that report on time. I know how much you usually struggle with the technical side of things."
"Did I take credit for that? I thought we were a team. I didn't realise you wanted the recognition so bad."
"Relax, I was just joking. You really need to grow a thicker skin."
"I actually went ahead and double-checked your work from this morning. It’s a good thing I did. I found some 'oversights' that would have been pretty embarrassing for the department if they'd gone out."
"Don't bother taking notes. I’ll send out the summary later. I want to make sure the instructions are actually clear for once so we don't have a repeat of last week's disaster."
His snarky, passive-aggressive tone was really getting to you today. You had been holding in your anger all day. Hell, all week.
You shoved the rest of your belongings in your bag before making your way to your car. It made you feel beyond pathetic, letting someone's snide get to you like this.
When you got home, you walked through the door with a huff, keys jingling loudly in your hand. Everything was too loud. Your keys, the keychains on your bag, your shoes against the floor. You needed to get it off right now.
"How was work, baby?"
You heard him before you saw him. Carlos had gotten home before you, clearly.
"It was fine," you said, but the sharpness of your words said otherwise. You dropped your bag on the table with a loud thud.
Carlos appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning slightly against the door frame. He didn't ask again. He didn't push. He just watched the way you ripped your shoes off, his eyes tracking the frantic energy radiating off you. He could tell immediately.
"Come here," he murmured. It wasn't a suggestion.
You let out a shaky breath. The frustration of the day, from Miller non-stop undermining you to the sheer exhaustion of performing, finally bubbled over. You walked into his space, and he didn't hesitate.
His arms immediately wrapped around you. He gave the firmest hugs you had ever felt. You let your head rest on his rigid chest, the heat from his body radiating onto yours.
He didn't pull away when he felt you start to tremble. Instead, he tucked his chin over the top of your head, his large hand splaying across the small of your back.
"What happened? Huh?" He asked softly. "Tell me who I need to be mad at so you don't have to carry it anymore."
"Just this guy at work," you said, trying to sound indifferent, but the slight tremble in your voice betrayed you. You let out a jagged breath, looking away. "It’s really pathetic, honestly."
He shook his head. "Hey, stop that," he murmured, gaze searching yours. "If it's making you shake, it's real. Not pathetic. Talk to me."
You finally let the dam break. About how your co-worker had spent the entire shift today undermining you, talking over you, taking credit for your ideas, making passive aggressive comments that made you feel like shit. How he always did this, and day by day, it was filing you down, thinner and thinner.
"It just makes me feel pathetic because it reminds me of, like, highschool. And that makes me feel like no grown adult like me should be upset about this." Your voice was trembling, pausing in between words to sharply inhale through your tears.
"Listen to me," he said, his voice dropping an octave, losing all its usual playfulness. "Being an adult doesn't mean you stop feeling it when people are assholes."
He brings his thumbs up to wipe your tears away. "If he keeps it up? You tell me. I’m not saying I’ll do anything. Crazy, at least. But I can definitely find a reason to say something."
You nodded, and he pressed a lingering, firm kiss to your forehead, hands sliding down to hold yours.
He moved to sit on the couch, letting you sit between his legs. His fingers ran through your hair, beginning to braid the strands. He could make braids out of any length of hair. You've watched him do it to himself when he was bored.
You continued venting about Miller and everything else in that building as he soothingly braided the strands.
"He thinks he’s clever because he uses big words to hide his own insecurity," Carlos grumbled. "But he’s just a bully in a cheap suit, meu anjo. He’s trying to make you feel small because he knows he can’t stand tall on his own feet. He sees your light, and he’s terrified it’s gonna show everyone just how dim his own is."
The room fell into a comfortable silence, apart from the sound of your own breathing finally evening out. There was something calming about the way he worked. He untangled the knots of your day, one strand at a time.
"My grandma taught me how to do this," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the back of the couch. "She used to say that when your head is full of loud noises, you have to give your hands something quiet to do. Just focus on the feel of it. Everything else is just noise."
He finished the braid with a soft pat to your shoulder, then leaned forward to press a kiss to the side of your head. "Do you want some dinner?"
A/N: This is my first fic like thing on here 😭 I hope you enjoyed ♡ and yes, all photos do intentionally contain their arms. I like arms. The ficlets themselves were written a while ago, so I'm hoping this is okay writing wise 😭
In honor of my free will and also the fact that after this post i made of Gaz's potential in the Resident Evil Universe at least some people enjoyed it, i decided to slightly formalized my own version of this crossover of Gaz being born into the main RE world🫡
(note: Im still relatively new to the RE world so my timelines and ideas might be a little off so bear with me! i tried my best</3)
British born Kyle Garrick enlists in the military at the ripe age of 16, so young and full of ideas of finally being able to be a "hero", as soon as he got accepted doing his best to be top of his unit and learn all the ropes, but as time in the military drags on, he feels his moral compass slowly be threatened, first deployments of intercepting terrorist fundings in foreigns countries seem legit, but soon he notices the people that carry the consequences of foreign interventions that are only here for their ego interests and not actually helping the population, in his final years the politics surrounding everything start to sober him up, and as soon as he completes the requirement age of servitude, he asks to be changed to a more "domestic" exploit in order for him to serve better (he needs to be able to have his hands free and help, not be a simple merchant of doom forced to witness), and so he finds a job as a S.T.A.R.S. member in the RPD force of Raccoon City.
A big yet cozy city, soon he finds himself adjusting more to it by the day, yeah sure its no UK with how americans seems to be so "uncivilized" as his coworkers would pretend he thinks, but after a while he likes the openness of being in such a work force that actually sees through with helping it's people, no military bs where they only serve the government and can't say sh!t or risk being downed for insubordination despite logical reasoning, that is of course, until something strange plagued the air of Raccoon City...
He could only think of it as a "right place, right time" fate, as he had quickly gone over to his home to pick up some forgotten documents, chaos has started to bubble: screams, fires, destruction started to be a constant, soon he had his two personal firearms equip as well as a bulletproof vest just in case of a domestic or terrorist attack, knowing all too well how these surprises felt from his time in the military, but when he encountered his first undead, almost downing an entire magazine on one until it finally hit it's head, he knew that this was no child's play at all, this was hell opening its gates in Raccoon City itself.
As smoke slowly overwhelmed the city sky, aiding the night on plunging it into ominous darkness, he slowly made his way to his vehicle, hoping to get to the RPD in time to reunite with his team in order to combat the situation as a unit, hell perhaps he might finally meet the Jill Valentine lady they had always mused about in the office everytime they remembered he was a part of S.T.A.R.S., but all that awaited him was desperate pleas andb cries as the station was overwhelmed, Kyle tried and sweep a way for them to escape, but they kept coming and coming and coming. Soon, with the advice of a dying comrade to escape and seek out a way to make an SOS call for the goverment to send aid, he miraculously escaped and had made it to a neighboring city far away enough.
(In this setting Kyle would've been the first one out, so people like Leon, Claire, Sherry, Jill and Carlos are still battling it out inside the city, not knowing of Kyle's escape ofc, while Kyle doesn't know that they are there)
As soon as he's able to have a breather and call someone, he calls Alex, a US agent that he had worked with in his time in the military and had kept contact, especially when he had relocated to being in Raccoon City.
His distress call reaches Washington, with his notice there, he finds a place to rent for the morning to wash off and clean himself in case he is needed, when he gets ringed up by Alex again, he expected to hear something good, perhaps the Army was going to be deployed with special ops to deal with getting people out, a perimeter to enclose the undead, families could be treated for the infection or at least help them understand what happened, he never expected to hear that the talks were about nuking Raccoon City as a whole.
He had fought with Alex to reach out and tell them the situation from his experience, the spread was fast and deadly yes, but there were still people alive and healthy there, people that weren't trained like him to be able to maneuver out of the city, they couldn't possibly be fathoming wiping it all out and calling it a day, Alex had assured him that at least a surviving unit of a so-called "Umbrella" whatever task force assured that they had a vaccine and if they delayed the nuke they could deliver it to pharmaceutical companies for study and recreation, which had relieved him for a moment, at that moment he felt his body weigh him down and ask for some proper rest, so he settled, knowing that the city would be cured...
Only for strong rumbling shaking the ground beneath his feet waking him up a few hours later, only to finally have the idea to turn on the TV to the news, only to be hit the headlines and detailed images of a nuke landing square center on the heart of the city.
He had felt disillusion before, his superiors in the military always reprimanded his "moral compass" of being always oriented to help and not simply combat like he was told to do, he had started to slowly become numb to it at some point in that time, but the end of his mandatory service sparked a stubborn refusal to fall into the desensitization of what they were doing, and Raccoon City and S.T.A.R.S. had given him that sliver of hope of finally doing the good he had always had as a priority in his mind, but this? this had him livid to his core.
He couldn't even process the grief of imagining all the poor souls that had vanished in that explosion, but he could process the rage, the frustration with a government that had went with the cheap and dirty option instead of actually going for the people, lives lost for no reason, lives he felt that were now resting on his shoulders, pleading for him to seek justice for them, and justice he would try to serve them.
If you read this far thank you✨️ criticisms and opinions will be heard as long as they are in a respectful matter :)
Might be a niche take and also I haven't indulged in the CoD:MW fandom since MW3 came out but as a Gaz fan I feel that his character idea does fit okay with the whole concept that CoD is, but if he were a Resident Evil character (in the sense of not changing his personality and purpose just plop him anywhere in the RE world lol) he would be one of the best ever, his moral compass and sense of justice that was much more prominent in MW1 would make NUMBERS for a playable character like him in the usual format of the RE games story wise (be an agent > caught up in a BOW crisis > learns it's all about corrupt people > determined to put an end to it)
