𝗺𝗮𝗱𝗲⠀ⁱⁿ⠀𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑽𝑬𝑵

𝐋𝐄𝐓⠀⠀⠀𝙼𝙴⠀⠀⠀𝑳𝑰𝑽𝑬⠀⠀⠀.ᐟ

[harleyridin]

⊹    𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍  . . .   is  an  independent  &  selective  depiction  of  CLAIRE  REDFIELD  of  capcom's  RESIDENT  EVIL  franchise.  infected  by  𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩,  28,  she/her  (CET)  !   rules  under  the  cut  !  since  ²⁰¹⁹.

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.       prompts,        plotting call,        blog roll,        headcanons.        

𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃  𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐍.        attckdog.

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄.        First  of  all:  hi  and  thank  you  for  poppin'  by!!  you  can  call  me  Light,  she/her,  28  &  I'm  from  Germany,  meaning  I  live  in  the  Central  European  Time  zone!  I’m  a  college  student  who  works  part-time,  which  generally  gives  me  a  lot  of  flexibility  in  my  daily  schedule.  There  are  times  when  I  have  plenty  of  free  time  (for  example,  during  semester  breaks  and  holidays),  but  also  times  when  my  activity  slows  down  (such  as  during  exam  season).  Overall,  I'd  say  I'm  a  fairly  active  and  consistent  writer,  though!

I've  written  Claire  before  as  part  of  a  German  roleplay  community  from  around  2019  to  2023,  so  it's  been  a  little  while…  I'm  currently  replaying  a  bunch  of  Resident  Evil  games  to  get  back  into  the  groove,  but  if  I  mix  anything  up,  feel  free  to  let  me  know,  lol.

As  of  the  nature  of  Resident  Evil  and  its  characters,  triggering  themes  will  be  present  on  this  blog.    These  include  mentions  of  death,  blood,  gore...    Please  refrain  from  interacting  if  you're  sensitive  to  any  of  these  topics.   Please  also  only  interact  with  me  if  we're  mutuals  and  you're  not  a  minor.    As  already  mentioned,  I'm  28,  so  it's  really  nothing  personal  against  you,  but  merely  a  comfort  thing.  Other  than  that,  the  standard  RP  etiquette  applies:  no  drama,  no  racism,  sexism,  zionism  and  so  on.  You  know  the  drill!

All  edits  on  my  blog  are  self  made.    If  I  use  a  template  for  an  edit,  it's  always  linked  in  the  source  of  the  post!  The  art  used  in  my  pinned  post  is  from  zombiyh  !

𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆.         The  most  important  thing  right  away  —  I'm  up  for  basically  anything.   Multiverses  and  crossovers  are  more  than  welcome  —  I'm  also  open  to  explore  potential  verses  and  alternate  universes for  Claire!  OCs  are  always  loved  and  cherished  around  here!

You're  also  very  welcome  to  turn  any  and  all  answered  prompts  into  a  thread!

If  you  ever  want  to  become  mains  or  affiliates,  please  hit  me  up  about  it!  I  won't  ever  do  a  main  call  or  anything  like  that,  as  for  me,  that  term  holds  a  whole  lot  of  meaning.  I  will  only  and  exclusively  become  mains  with  those  I  have  a  strong  connection  with  —  meaning  people  I  interact  with  the  most,  and  whose  muse  has  a  strong  and  well-established  relationship  with  mine.  I  like  to  keep  my  mains  as  a  well-selected  few.

When  it  comes  to  formatting,  I  don't  have  any  real  preferences.    Just  go  for  whatever  feels  right  to  you;  I  love  my  graphics  fancy  and  pretty,  but  I  honestly  don't  care  whether  your  blog  has  fancy  graphics  or  not;  icons,  formatting,  that's  all  optional.  It's  the  writing  that  counts!  

As  for  text  length,  I  really  like  multi-para  threads  —  but  I'm  also  up  for  shorter  ones  or  occasionally  even  one-liners.  You'll  rarely  see  one-liners  on  my  blogs,  though;  those  usually  happen  on  a  whim  and  with  muses  mine  already  has  an  established  connection  with. 

You  don't  have  to  match  the  exact  length  of  my  text,  as  long  as  the  difference  isn't  horrendously  obvious  —  like  me  writing  multiple  paragraphs  and  only  getting  two  or  three  sentences  in  return. 

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆.         Who  doesn't  love  love?  I’m  happy  to  ship  Claire  without  any  major  restrictions,  as  long  as  the  chemistry  is  there.  However,  I  do  have  a  personal  preference  for  Cleon.  If  you  ever  want  to  write  or  discuss  anything  with  that  dynamic,  there's  a  99.9%  chance  I'll  be  immediately  hooked.  This  should  be  obvious,  but  I  won't  ship  her  with  any  minors,  nor  people  she  considers  family.  Aside  from  that,  I'm  open  to  all  the  bittersweet  crushes,  silent  yearning,  and  soft  confessions. I  don't  do  exclusives  unless  specifically  stated  otherwise.  I  love  getting  to  write  and/or  ship  with  various  portrayals  of  a  character  as  everyone's  interpretation  is  unique! 

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓  𝐁𝐔𝐓  𝐍𝐎𝐓  𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓.          I'm  super  chill  when  it  comes  to  conversations,  I'm  up  for  plotting,  threads,  stupid  nonsense,  whatever  you'd  like.    As  soon  as  we're  mutuals,  you're  always  welcome  to  drop  something  into  my  inbox  or  hit  me  up  with  a  DM! 

[harleyridin]

anyone affiliated with Umbrella should be launched directly into the sun, actually.

[cursedblessed]

She has not laughed in his face, has not turned and walked away. Objectively, that should be a good sign. So why does the silence stretch tight around his throat? Why does waiting for her response leave him feeling strangely unsteady?

Maybe he would have preferred outrage or anger. Some immediate flare of emotion he could respond to instead of this nauseating uncertainty. The irony is not lost on him. Atlas, of all people, craving emotional honesty from another person when he treats his own feelings like classified information.

Between the two of them, he is not the one in control here; the realization should bother him more than it does. Control has always been stitched into every part of him, woven through every decision, every calculated move, every carefully maintained distance. Power matters to him to a degree most people would find concerning. This time, he does not fight the imbalance.

The discomfort only worsens when she speaks. It lingers heavy in his chest, pressure steadily mounting with the awareness that this may be the only opportunity he gets. She is not lenient with him. If anything, she is kinder to strangers.

Still... confessions are not his style. He genuinely cannot remember the last time he admitted wanting someone in a way that extended beyond convenience or fleeting attraction.

❝ I enjoy your company. ❞ The moment the words leave his mouth, he internally recoils. His brows furrow almost immediately, forced to physically stop himself from pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Usually he is polished, composed, always several steps ahead of everyone else in the room. His words are chosen carefully, sharpened and refined until they achieve exactly what he intends. Now he just sounds like a fumbling idiot. His jaw tightens as he searches for something better to say, but every thought that comes to mind feels horribly cliché.

❝ ...You’ve become… important to me. ❞ The words leave him flatly, almost annoyed, though the irritation is directed entirely at himself. He looks visibly displeased by the vulnerability of it all. Another pause follows, long enough for him to realize he is not escaping this conversation without being direct.

❝ I am trying to tell you that I have feelings for you. ❞ The sentence leaves him stiffly, the words sounding foreign in his mouth. His gaze returns to her, narrowing slightly before he adds, drier now, ❝ In a way that should be fairly self-explanatory. ❞

[harleyridin]

𝐀  𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐃  𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓  𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃  𝐀𝐒  𝐒𝐇𝐄  𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃  𝐅𝐎𝐑  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄  𝐎𝐅  𝐀  𝐉𝐎𝐊𝐄  𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑  𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄,  𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄  𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐋𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓  𝐎𝐅  𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐒𝐇𝐄  𝐀𝐋𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘  𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐖  𝐈𝐍  𝐇𝐄𝐑  𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓:  he  was  serious. 

The  reluctant  delivery  of  a  man  to  whom  such  words  seemed  foreign,  almost  alien,  left  little  room  for  doubt  about  the  weight  of  his  confession,  and  her  heart  fluttered  into  a  state  of  distress  for  it;  stirred  by  the  conflicting  sensations  of  unexpected  agitation  and  mounting  exasperation. 

❝   You  can’t  be  serious.   ❞   The  words,  in  essence,  were  less  an  expression  of  disbelief  than  a  condemnation  of  the  absurdity  of  it  all;  the  way  he  could  stand  there  and  admit  to  feelings  of  the  deepest,  most  passionate  sort  while  simultaneously  betraying  everything  she  stood  for.  ❝   You  cannot  possibly  think  this  is  helping  right  now.   ❞   

If  anything,  the  timing  was  absolutely  abysmal:  a  confession  uttered  in  the  middle of  doubt  and  conflict,  just  as  she  had  been  preparing  to  turn  her  back  on  him  and  every  questionable  decision  he  represented.  She  had  a  job  she  had  devoted  her  entire  life  to,  a  mission  she  pursued  earnestly  with  every  beat  of  her  heart;  some  might  even  argue  she  was  married  to  duty  by  now.  There  was  no  way  she  could  risk  TerraSave’s  fragile  reputation  further  by  becoming  entangled  with  a  man  of  dubious  alliances  and  questionable  morals. 

And  yet  he  seemed  determined,  almost  desperate,  to  keep  her  from  walking  away. 

Frustration  wove  itself  into  the  intricate  web  of  her  emotions,  spurred  on  with  every  agitated  beat  of  her  heart  as  she  closed  her  eyes  drew  a  deep  breath     —     internally  cursing  him  for  forcing  her  toward  a  crossroads  where  both  her  heart’s  desires  seemed  to  divide  into  two  parallel  lines,  formed  to  never  meet.  

❝   How  can  you  stand  there  and  tell  me  you  have  feelings  for  me,   ❞   Claire  finally  brought  out  from  a  mouth  slightly  trembling,  every  fiber  of  herself  far  from  untouched,  ❝   while  continuing  to  work  with  people  who  spit  on  everything  TerraSave  stands  for?...   ❞   

❝   …Everything  I  stand  for.   ❞   

[harleyridin]

i keep on winning.

[harleyridin]

˚₊·゜・．     𓆩♡𓆪        continued  from  here        w/        @attckdog

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐒  𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐄  𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄  𝐋𝐀𝐘  𝐈𝐍  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘  𝐎𝐅  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓     —     𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒  𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐒,  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄  𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐒  𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐍𝐎  𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓  𝐎𝐅  𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃  𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓  𝐅𝐎𝐑...  or  in  a  rain-soaked  jacket  held  overhead,  offering  makeshift  refuge  from  the  sky’s  sudden  downpour.  

There  was  something  chivalrous  about  the  gesture;  an  instinctive  reaction  both  thoughtful  and  charming  in  a way  all  the  best  rom-coms  tended  to  portray,  and  thus  exactly  the  sort  of  thing  that  would  send  any  teenage  girl’s  heart  into  an  enchanted  flutter,  even  with  a  myriad  of  raindrops  staining  her  carefully  chosen  date  outfit.  

Good  thing  Claire  had  always  been  easier  charmed  by  mishaps  and  imperfections  than  polished  impeccability.  

❝   Oh,  you’re  on,  rookie.   ❞   Spurred  on  by  a  competitive  streak  she  might  have  picked  up  from  her  older  brother     —     or  perhaps  her  late  father     —     Claire  was  quick  to  indulge  Leon’s  suggestion:  her  grin  equal  parts  delighted  and  brazen.  ❝   I’ll  have  you  know,  I’m  kind  of  a  pro  at  bar  games.   ❞   

College  101,  right?  

Just  like  that,  the  rain  hardly  mattered;  only  partly  because  they  were  already  drenched.  With  a  sweeping  step  backward,  she  abandoned  the  polyester  canopy  altogether,  laughter  dancing  at  the  corners  of  her  mouth  as  her  hand  reached  for  his.  ❝   C’mon,  then.  Unless  you’re  made  of  sugar.   ❞   

[diviedrawn]

Oh we are SO BACK

[harleyridin]

'do you drink coffee or tea?'

˚₊·゜・．     𓆩♡𓆪        𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐃  𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐘        &        @flybcll

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄  𝐎𝐅  𝐀  𝐂𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃  𝐁𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄  𝐖𝐀𝐒  𝐀𝐍  𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐎𝐍𝐄;  its  scent  already  a  phantom  sensation  in  her  nose  by  the  time  the  question  had  left  his  mouth. 

❝   Coffee,  please.   ❞   Claire  wasn’t  exactly  particular  when  it  came  to  the  brewed  drink,  either.  Countless  cups  of  cheap  rest-stop  macchiatos  and  coffee  from  questionable  motel  machines  had  steeled  her  taste  buds  against  poorly  brewed  beans.   ❝   As  long  as  it’s  got  enough  caffeine  to  get  me  through  the  evening,  I’m  happy.   ❞   

[harleyridin]

what's that perfume you're wearing?

˚₊·゜・．     𓆩♡𓆪        𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐃  𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐘        &        @deadknndy

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐃  𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄  𝐂𝐎𝐀𝐗𝐄𝐃  𝐇𝐄𝐑  𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐒  𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐑,  𝐍𝐎𝐖  𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐇𝐄𝐑  𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍  𝐖𝐀𝐒  𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐃  𝐁𝐘  𝐇𝐈𝐌  𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑  𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐃𝐎𝐂𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒  𝐒𝐇𝐄  𝐇𝐀𝐃  𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍  𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆;  her  expression  betrayed  wonder  for  only  a  moment’s  fraction  before  softening  into  a  grin.

❝   Wow.  Didn’t  know  you  paid  attention  to  that  kind  of  thing.   ❞   Her  amusement  was  subtle,  yet  audible  in  the  lightened  lilt  of  her  voice     —     already  poised  to  herald  the  teasing  undertone  ready  to  slip  into  her  words.  ❝   I  think  it’s  just  something  I  picked  up  at  the  airport  a  while  ago.  Why?  You  planning  on  buying  a  bottle  for  yourself?   ❞   

[ofrequiem]

“  we,  uh,  did  try  a  play ground  -  ”  grace  mumbled,  rubbing  her  chin  with  her  hand  in  embarrassment.

it  had  gone  very   poorly  to  say  the  least.  too  many  people.  too  many  noises.  emily  had  not  been  happy  and  had  demanded  they  return  home  as  soon  as  possible  with  tears  in  her  eyes.  the  sight  had  been  so  pitiful  it  had  broken  grace's  heart  all  over  again.  she  had  thought  her  own  social  anxiety  was  bad,  but  it  was  nothing  compared  to  the  poor  kid  who  had  grown  up  in  a  glass  room,  unable  to  see,  barely  interacting  with  people  outside  of  it.

she  didn't  think  an  arcade  would  be  much  better.  it'd  probably  be  worse,  if  anything.

a  frown  marred  her  pale  features  and  she  sighed,  leaning  back  in  her  chair,  trying  not  to  get  discouraged.  she  wished  she  had  more  friends  of  her  own.  she  was  at  the  age  where  people  were  actively  trying  for  kids  or  already  had  kids  from  their  younger  twenties.  if  she  had  more  friends,  maybe  those  friends  would  have  had  kids  she  could  use  to  interact  with  emily  in  a  quieter  and  safer  environment.

a  deep  breath,  and  then  another  sighed  as  she  nodded.

“  y-yeah…  she  does  like  choosing  what  she  gets  to  do…  perhaps  a  little  too  much,”she  chuckled  fondly,  shaking  her  head.

“  m-maybe  something  with  a  distraction  away  from  people  but  still  around  people?"  she  mumbled  questioningly,  wondering  what  sort  of  activity  could  captivate.

“  m-maybe  a  zoo,  or  an  aquarium?  ”  she  asked  tentatively.

maybe  if  she  dragged  claire  along  with  them,  emily  would  feel  more  secure.

[harleyridin]

𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐒,  𝐀𝐒  𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄  𝐖𝐀𝐒  𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐊  𝐓𝐎  𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐋𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄,  𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃  𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐋𝐘  𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊  𝐀  𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄  𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋’𝐒  𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓  𝐅𝐀𝐑  𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄  𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍  𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑  𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃  𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓  𝐀𝐓  𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.  She  could  practically  already  picture  Emily’s  widened,  fascinated  eyes  at  the  sight  of  all  the  various  creatures  she  had  likely  only  been  able  to  read  about  before,  and  thus  hummed  in  swift  agreement     —     a  nod  emphasizing  her  approval  of  the  blonde’s  desperate  musings. 

❝   You  know  what?  I  think  that’s  actually  a  really  good  idea, Grace.   ❞   The  only  question  that  remained  was  which  kind  of  animal  Emily  would  prefer  to  encounter:  marine  life  in  its  aquatic  habitat,  or  the  countless  species  that  teemed  on  the  Earth’s  surface?  

While  many  perceived  the  latter  as  generally  more  ‘appealing’,  Claire  couldn’t  help  but  wonder  whether  the  little  girl  would  take  well  to  some  of  the  zoo’s  larger  attractions.   ❝   ...Maybe  we  should  keep  her  away  from  the  scarier  stuff  at  first,  though.  Tigers  and  lions  don’t  exactly  seem  ideal  for  a  kid  who  gets  overwhelmed  easily.   ❞   And  if  a  free-roaming  monkey  ended  up  getting  too  close  for  the  little  girl’s  comfort...  Claire  didn’t  even  want  to  begin  to  imagine  the  chaos  and  tears  that  would  likely  ensue. 

❝   I  think  an  aquarium  might  actually  be  perfect.  It’s  usually  quieter,  and  there’s  plenty  to  look  at  without  people  constantly  trying  to  talk  to  her.   ❞   A  smile  began  to  tug  at  the  corners  of  the  older  woman’s  mouth,  mere  seconds  after  the  suggestion  had  escaped  it.   ❝   Besides,  fish  are  pretty  hard  to  argue  with.   ❞   

❝   Fair  warning,  though.  You  might  end  up  going  home  with  a  very  detailed  argument  for  why  she  absolutely  needs  a  pet  fish.   ❞   

[rothaunt]

a shaky breath, his whole body spun tightly into a trembling nuclear point of rage and shame. society had failed to teach him how to handle it, the guilt, without a target to put blame on. himself? yes, but he also was a victim. narrow it down to a knife's edge and wield it without mercy, that was the coping mechanism he had developed over his life, trauma forging it to a refined process. he draws air into his lungs through flared nostrils. the scent of rich coffee and buttery dough and her perfume lifting him away from the spiraling plummet promised by losing control and catching everything up in his path.

his body trembles as he wills it to still, laying his mangled palms onto the solid surface of the table, in a wide frame around hers, eight fingers and the gnarled edge on the left, wearing a laced collar of teeth marks.

" maybe... " he relents.

he is an outsider to this world, an anomaly dragged into it by circumstances beyond his control. he never wanted to be a player in this grand stage of monsters and heroes. it was never in the plan of his life to stitch himself into the complicated fabric of politics. all he wanted was to have his wife back, he walked into hell and returned her to the world of the living. he had no idea the cost of his declaration of undying love was so high.

the light catches her hair, filtered through the curtain of red, warming her profile. fresh air tickles a few strands which have fallen loose. he admires her in the way an artist knows inspiration when they see it. a muse tickling the back of his skull, whispering for his fingers to set charcoal to paper.

her platitudes, first sang out in the flitting nature of compliments. like shameless flirting between strangers who have no plans to act on it, then suddenly, low in her chest, a harmony arrives and enriches her compassion. something in the melody tells him to believe her, she is too pretty to lie. damn his wondering eyes, maybe they should be plucked from his head as punishment... his heart already wears the signature of another. it is not a thing for him to give away anymore, it is his no longer.

" you do? " a boyish incredulity seeps out of him, taken so quickly aback by her words, which cut him to the quick. " really? " ethan leans away, his arms levering upward, elbows locking in place as if to brace for impact. " wouldn't that-- wouldn't it like, put you in opposition to your brother and his b.s.a.a buddies? " his palms stay on the table, fingers motioning as he speaks. " like, fuck 'em, don't get me wrong but i don't want you getting caught up in this and catching strays. it's not your problem. "

[harleyridin]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄  𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑  𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓  𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄  𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐍  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒  𝐎𝐅  𝐀  𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋  𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆  𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃,  𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄  𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐃  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘  𝐎𝐅  𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄;  her  gaze  resting  upon  each  roughened  edge  and  imposed  stigma  in  a  way  both  unabashed  and  quietly  appreciative.  Unpolished,  raw,  and  unapologetically  real:  society’s  appreciation  was  generally  reserved  for  something  easier  to  digest     —     a  more  superficial  kind  of  attractiveness  that,  sure,  could  be  found  within  the  man  before  her  as  well...  yet  Claire  had  learned,  with  every  painstaking  step,  to  look  deeper  than  that. 

What  good  was  a  pretty  face  if  it  lacked  conviction  and  loyalty?  How  appealing  was  a  physical  body  when  it  lacked  soul?  The  years  had  made  her  grow  tired  of  people  whose  words  carried  more  weight  than  their  actions     —     of  small  men  who  hid  behind  the  shadows  of  their  own  manufactured  grandeur.  Unpolished,  raw,  and  unapologetically  real:  those  were  the  traits  she  truly  valued.  A  man  guided  by  his  heart,  steadfast  against  anything  that  tried  to  make  him  waver. 

A  man  like  Ethan  Winters,  perhaps,  whose  scarred  hands  roughly  mirrored  the  well-worn  hardwood  of  the  table  they  rested  upon.  Each  indentation  and  blemish  told  a  story  of  its  own,  and  Claire  wondered  briefly  if  someone  had  once  tried  to  carve  their  initials  into  the  wood  as  a  memento,  while  her  own  palm  moved  across  its  roughened  surface,  aimed  for  the  comparable  softness  of  his  hand. 

A  simple  manicure  adorned  the  fingers  that  moved  to  splay  over  his  mangled  skin  in  a  gesture  equal  parts  reassurance  and  comfort,  guided  by  the  familiarity  of  years  spent  doing  exactly  that:  soothing  agitated  souls  while  trying  to  make  them  believe  in  the  goodness  of  the  world  again. 

❝   What,  you’re  worried  about  me?  I  can  handle  myself,  you  know.   ❞   The  words  came  easily,  with  amusement  subtly  woven  into  their  tone;  the  corners  of  her  eyes  crinkled  as  she  spoke.   ❝   For  real,  though.  He’s  my  brother.  He’ll  get  it  eventually.   ❞   

A  moment  passed;  the  crinkles  deepened  into  fine  lines.   ❝   ...That,  and  he’s  kind  of  used  to  me  doing  my  own  thing.   ❞   

While  the  siblings  did  share  values  and  a  very  similar  moral  compass,  their  methods  to  go  about  their  desire  to  help  people  had  always  diverged.  Claire,  unlike  her  more  battle-hardened  brother,  had  always  relied  more  on  her  heart  than  the  brute  force  that  had  shaped  the  BSAA’s  foundation.  It  was  the  reason  why  she  had  never  joined her  brother’s  mission,  instead  finding  her  purpose  in  TerraSave’s  humanitarian  work.  

She  could  only  hope  Chris  would  extend  the  same  understanding  to  her  decision  now. 

❝   You  really  don’t  know  me  very  well.  I  don’t  care  if  that  means  butting  heads  with  the  BSAA,  the  Connections,  or  any  other  organization  that  might  be  involved  in  this.  You  need  help,  and  I  want  to  give  it.   ❞   A  glance  around  the  establishment  interrupted  her  words,  just  briefly     —     then,  her  eyes  returned  to  him.   ❝   Just  do  me  a  favor,   ❞   her  voice  lowered  gradually  with  each  word,   ❝   and  don’t  make  me  regret  trusting  you.  I  really  don’t  want  to  have  to  point  a  gun  at  you.   ❞   

[harleyridin]

one thing I've just realized while going through the stuff I owe is that somehow, in almost every ongoing thread, the other person lowkey winds up with some sort of crush on/infatuation with Claire. which is honestly highly relatable.

[harleyridin]

Thinking  about  those  three  months  that  pass  between  the  Raccoon  City  incident  and  the  events  of  Code  Veronica...  how  Claire  didn’t  even  stop  to  catch  her  breath  after  experiencing  those  horrors.  A  19-year-old  girl  who  had  just  been  through  literal  hell,  travelling  halfway  across  the  globe  to  France  to  keep  looking  for  her  brother.  All  alone  after  that,  in  a  foreign  country,  while  worrying  whether  the  most  important  person  in  her  life  was  safe  or  not.

It  must  have  been  her  first  real  dip  into  investigative  work  to  locate  Chris,  who  was  living  under  an  alias  in  the  huuuge  city  that  is  Paris.  She  must  have  learned  some  basic  French  on  top  of  that  to  communicate  with  and  question  locals  about  his  whereabouts,  because  if  anything  is  unrealistic  about  that  announcement  trailer,  it’s  an  old  French  lady  in  the  late  ’90s  speaking  such  fluent  English  asgdhj.

I  can  see  her  spending  her  days  roaming  the  city,  chasing  leads  and  questioning  people.  I  can  see  her  spending  her  evenings  and  nights  (because,  come  on,  as  if  she  could  sleep  uninterruptedly)  in  the  nearest  library,  either  poring  over  a  language  book  or  reading  newspapers  and  public  records,  using  phone  books  and  business  directories  to  track  Umbrella  connections.

Doing  all  of  that  while  deeply  traumatized.

Nobody  quite  does  it  like  her,  I’m  afraid.

[diedbelow]

❝ 𝐈'𝐌 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐘. 𝐈'𝐌 𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐘. ❞ - ind. pri. sel. 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 from 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐂𝐎𝐌'𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒. primarily headcanon-based + canon divergent. revived by pulsar. twenty9+. he/they/she. ( psd credit )

[harleyridin]

claire goatfield i love you

[wherebeabee]

code: veronica 🪽

[cursedblessed]

There is no reason for him to be this way. His upbringing had been painfully average by comparison to the horrors most expected shape a man like him. There are no scars carved into his skin, no tragedy significant enough to have ruined his psyche beyond repair. He believes these truths simply because he does. People are not born virtuous. They do not care for one another beyond what benefits them. Humanity is inherently selfish, obsessed with survival and dominance. That is why they destroy everything they touch: each other, the planet, anything unfortunate enough to exist beneath them.

And despite his flaws, Atlas has never pretended to occupy any sort of moral high ground. He knows he is worse than the average people he criticizes because he sees no reason to become better. No reason to try.

He does not move. His gaze stays set on course. He listens to her soliloquy without interruption, without so much as a shift in expression. There is no counterargument waiting on his tongue. He dismisses anyone lacking a selfish motive to play the hero as fundamentally foolish. Survival of the fittest; the idiots were not meant to survive.

❝ Someone once convinced me? ❞ he repeats, and for the first time his neutrality fractures. His expression comes alive with amusement. He laughs. A genuine sound, still unlike the bellowing joy of someone sincere. It is strange coming from him. Too alive. Too human.

❝ I see. ❞ His brief spectacle of emotion lingers. ❝ How sweet of you to assume someone hurt me. That someone made me believe the world is a shitty place. ❞ His voice flattens, now it lacks any real hostility. It remains matter-of-fact, certain in his morality.

❝ Nothing happened. There wasn’t some grand betrayal that turned me against my peers. I came into this world a 'stuck-up asshole'. I’ll likely die one. ❞

The question of his salvation fractures his apathetic self again. This time it is only the slight quirk of his mouth, something bordering enjoyment returning. In the span of only a few minutes she has managed to drag more 'honesty' from him than most people ever could. Perhaps circumstance helps. There is little point maintaining a perfect poker face when there remains a very real possibility one of them, or both of them, dies here.

❝ If you left me here, would you not just be proving my point? ❞ The challenge does not settle before pragmatism replaces it.

❝ The fangs of a snake are the most important part, but the rest still serves a purpose. ❞ He pauses, allowing her a moment to catch up with the direction of his thoughts. ❝ Keep me alive and I will help your organization. Or do not. ❞ The second option passes without weight or concern. If she chooses that path, then so be it. ❝ Let me die and let information die with me. I am sure you will eventually find someone else familiar with the inner workings of corporations developing bio-weaponry.❞

[harleyridin]

𝐒𝐎  𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒  𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍’𝐓  𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄  𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄  𝐎𝐅  𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐍𝐄.  𝐍𝐎  𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂  𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘  𝐓𝐎  𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋  𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘  𝐅𝐎𝐑,  𝐍𝐎  𝐎𝐋𝐃  𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃  𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄     —     he  was  simply  born  a  self-righteous  cynic,  abrasive  enough  to  laugh  in  her  face  when  she  questioned  his  worldview.  Her  fingers  curled  tighter  for  it,  short  nails  pressing  crescent  moons  into  the  paleness  of  her  palms;  the  stinging  sensation  of  pain  serving  to  ground  her  enough  to  contain  most  of  the  temper  threatening  to  flare  beneath  his  smug  amusement. 

❝   So  you’re  just  another  egotistical  prick.  Great.  As  if  the  world  doesn’t  have  enough  of  those  already.   ❞   True  strength,  as  she  understood  it,  lay  in  the  preservation  of  kindness     —     in  compassion  that  refused  to  yield  no  matter  how  often  it  was  put  to  test.  She  had  watched  the  brightest  lights  succumb  to  darkness,  had  seen  good  people  broken  by  terror;  she  had  stared  directly  into  the  ugliest  corners  of  humanity  and  survived. 

Apathy  alone  she  could  not  begin  to  fathom. 

❝   You  think  I’m  looking  at  you  as  an  informant?   ❞   Surprise  coaxed  her  tone  an  octave  higher  as  she  considered  his  words,  tracing  the  implication  buried  beneath  them     —     the  most  prominent  one  being  a  direct  connection  between  the  worth  of  his  life  and  the  information  he  held,  as  though  this  whole  ordeal  could  be  reduced  to  but  one  thing:  a  transaction.  

The  very  notion  was  so  absurd  that  it  drew  a  huff  from  her  mouth;  the  exhalation  of  air  so  abrupt  that  it  created  an  audible  sound  of  incredulity.   ❝   That  whatever  you  know  has  anything  to  do  with  why  I’m  trying  to  get  you  out  of  this  alive?   ❞   

Her  turn  was  swift,  almost  graceful  in  its  fluidity;  her  back  to  him  a  clear  indicator  that  this  matter  wasn’t  up  for  debate  as  she  unholstered  her  handgun,  checked  the  magazine  with  practiced  efficiency,  and  slid  it  back  into  the  holster  strapped  to  her  thigh.   ❝   I’m  not  leaving  you  here  because  I  don’t  want  you  to  die,  even  if  you  are  an  obnoxious  asshole.   ❞   

A  moment  passed  before  her  posture  shifted,  just  enough  to  reveal  her  profile  to  his  sight.   ❝   And  if  you  decide  to  help  TerraSave,  do  it  because  you  actually  want  to.  Not  because  you  think  you  owe  me  something.   ❞   

[harleyridin]

⊹    𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍  . . .   is  an  independent  &  selective  depiction  of  CLAIRE  REDFIELD  of  capcom's  RESIDENT  EVIL  franchise.  infected  by  𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩,  28,  she/her  (CET)  !  since  ²⁰¹⁹.