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@madeofthreads
Madeofthreads is a multiple character and multiple fandom blog.
Slow activity. OC friendly. Current roster is below.
Blogroll: @finalvii (Tifa Lockhart). @holyguardian (Aerith Gainsborough). @leonkennedy9642 (Leon S. Kennedy). @rebelichor (Ariadne Nihilis / female OC).
Affiliated with: @arrepentirse / @enokvirkow / @somnus-lucis-caelum / @versus-written, @celestrahl / @nd9642, @cyberpawn, @forgedofoaths, @noescapingthepast, @paladinstales.
RULES. PROMPTS.
@arrepentirse | X
The access card is promptly handed over, and had it been attached to his neck โ where it belonged โ he would have stumbled a step or at the very least find himself forced to bow a little. He is spared that indignation this morning, but only this morning.
Seon-ah's thumb nail scratches over the identification as though she's underlining his name. Her gaze shoots back to his childish face like a dagger. Then a smile is mimicked. He heard very impressive things? Well...
"That is not your Umbrella name. You have a lot to learn," Seon-ah accuses. She flips his ID around, her fingernail tap tapping the back of the card as her eyes roam over him. He gives new meaning to the term fresh meat. He wouldn't be in stock at the butchers, he would still be roaming the fields unaware of the slaughter to come. "Wear this at all times. Luis."
She drapes the red lanyard around his neck like a noose. "What have you heard about my research?" A beat, and she beckons him to follow with a curl of her finger. "You introduced the Plagas samples to Umbrella, correct? You hypothesise the parasites operate as a hive mind. That suggests shared consciousness between hosts, I need to unlock the science behind how. The founder of Umbrella has a personal interest in this research, you will not rejoin your colleages until we have answers."
It's almost comical the way she waves her hand at a sad little space in passing. "The break area. Just tap your access card." The vending machines were unlimited.
Seon-ah inbox call.
There is being promised a research assistant, and then there is running a daycare. Dr. Song looks the young boy over. She is almost 40. He is barely 15 if the animal-eared beanie is any indication. "Show me your access card." Clearly there has been a mistake. Heads will roll for allowing an unauthorised guest this far into the laboratories.
Luis feels as if the excitement in his stomach will make him go nauseous. He was so lucky. The past five years had been like an entirely new life, or two! To have been allowed, even encouraged to study as much as he wanted, to spent every waking minute in laboratories, to experience every technology advancement โ Luis had loved every moment of it. And then, after all, he had not even had needed to apply anywhere. A corporation as big as Umbrella had scouted him away from university, when the print on his diplomas had not even dried out yet.
And now, after he had worked a few months, there even were different departments handing in requests for his work. He didnโt know why Dr. Songโs department was interested in him, but Dr. Frankl seemingly had agreed to lend him out.
Luis was oblivious to any inner workings behind closed doors, otherwise he might have been wiser than to stand in front of Dr. Song with a smile โ and his prized beanie. It was cold outside, after all.
No introduction, no greeting. Luis stumbles a little mentally, though then he quickly searches his pocket and produces the access card and ID tethered to the bright red lanyard. Handing it to Dr. Song.
โOf courseโฆโ, he utters, there was a small hesitation. Somehow, this seรฑorita had an aura around her that demanded more than just respect. But Luis dares to talk on, his grin growing, โGood morning, Dr. Song. I was told to appear here, 7 o clock sharp. My name is Dr. Luis Serra Navarro and I heard very impressive things about your research.โ
@madeofthreads
My Royal Nemesis โง ๋ฉ์ง์ ์ธ๊ณ โง 2026 dir. Han Tae Seob โง Ep. 6
MY ROYAL NEMESIS ๋ฉ์ง์ ์ธ๊ณ (2026)
Like or comment if you want an Umbrella neurosurgeon and researcher up in your inbox. Please tell me who it's for if you're a multimuse, and please only one character so I don't die!
I'm going to write up a sloppy villain page and I'm going to like it.
Posting this while dashboard is mostly asleep to prevent evil decisions. My mother is an avid k-drama fan and I was reminded of a brilliant actress from the most recent series she has been watching, which of course made me think back on a very expressive role. Anyway, if I wrote a scientist within Umbrella who wasn't led on about her role and actively signed up to be a piece of shit--
๐๐ฅ๐๐ข๐ซ๐๐๐๐ฏ๐๐ข๐๐ฅ๐; ๐๐จ๐ฉ๐ ๐ฒ๐จ๐ฎ ๐ฅ๐ข๐ค๐ ๐๐ฎ๐ฅ๐ฅ๐๐ญ๐ฌ '๐๐๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ ๐ ๐ ๐จ๐ญ ๐ ๐ก๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ฎ๐ฏ๐ ๐ฅ๐จ๐ญ ๐ฆ๐จ๐ซ๐!
Independent ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ from the ๐๐๐ฌ๐ข๐๐๐ง๐ญ ๐๐ฏ๐ข๐ฅ series. Remake based portrayal. Written by Muddy. Welcoming and friendly to AUs / Duplicates / OCs.
๐๐ฅ๐๐ข๐ซ๐๐๐๐ฏ๐๐ข๐๐ฅ๐; ๐๐จ๐ฉ๐ ๐ฒ๐จ๐ฎ ๐ฅ๐ข๐ค๐ ๐๐ฎ๐ฅ๐ฅ๐๐ญ๐ฌ '๐๐๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ ๐ ๐ ๐จ๐ญ ๐ ๐ก๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ฎ๐ฏ๐ ๐ฅ๐จ๐ญ ๐ฆ๐จ๐ซ๐!
Independent ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ from the ๐๐๐ฌ๐ข๐๐๐ง๐ญ ๐๐ฏ๐ข๐ฅ series. Remake based portrayal. Written by Muddy. Welcoming and friendly to AUs / Duplicates / OCs.
At what point can I release Claire's solo blog... do I have to write up her verse pages... do I *have* to...
There she is!
Luisโ face lights up instantly with relief when he spots the short woman in red leather jacket waving at him. Hurrying over to her, he suddenly holds onto a ticket.
She had held her end of thisโฆ deal? Was that what they had? There was no word that fit what they were currently. An accidental team. But for what purpose? To what end? Was it even smart for them to board the same bus?
โYeahโฆโ, he utters a little overwhelmed still.
Everything is a rush. There are many people boarding this bus โ in the end itโs almost entirely full. Luis finds himself sitting next to Claire in the back of the bus. The seats smell old and dusty, the light is dim. And his fingers dig into the rucksackโs fabric on his lap. His eyes briefly fall to the Plagas container that rests under Claireโs boots.
This feels unreal.
Entirely unreal.
Just an hour ago, his life had been completely differentโฆ
And only when the bus finally moves with a swaying rattle and no suited-up men had entered the vehicle too and asked for himโฆ only then did Luis allow himself to breathe out properly. Closing his eyes and letting his head sink back, his fingers fidgeted with the several rings he now wore on his left hand.
โDiosโฆโ
Then he seems to suddenly grasp another idea, opening the large rucksack and rummaging for a moment. The small package of painkillers and a cold-pack is held out to Claire.
โHere. For your nose?โ
Nothing about this was smart, but they were in it together. Claire hugs her leather jacket a little closer. The reason she chose this route came down to many factors, but a major part was the lack of security for her to carry her weapons... and, as it turns out, keeping the option cheap in case she found herself pickpocketed worked to her favour. She had enough money on hand to pay for that second ticket.
She carries no other bag with her. Extra clothes and comforts are abandoned back at her cheaply rented room, damn, she's going to miss part of that wardrobe too. But clothes aren't important right now. She's practically buzzing now that she's sitting still after the events.
Chris is still somewhere in the city, her only regret is she didn't actually find him. Maybe deleting his information from Umbrella's database was enough. Maybe... she chews her lips. Stuffed into the innerlining of her jacket are crumpled papers. All jumbled and out of order now, detailing Project Nemesis, but there's also a paper trail on her brother. Who's to say they haven't kept his information on file? She doesn't know how the European Umbrella facility operates, the American facilities are at least a shit show.
She's considering whether Chris' information is simply being uploaded again when Luis suddenly holds something out to her. She could see his movement in her periphary but she had too much else on her mind to really take notice, not until her eyes fall on what seems to be medicine and a cold pack. It takes him spelling it out for her to understand.
Claire exhales in disbelief. "This is what you went back for?" She lightly teased, taking two of the pain killers and the offered relief. With no water she swallowed them down dry and leans her own head back. "For the record... I'm more mad that you made me wait, than I am about your impressively hard head." She laughs in a small breath, head turning. "Of all the dates to be late for, and you chose the first one." She wants to point out how terrifying it was, not-knowing if he had been caught, where he was, how much they fucked up relaying information like that.
Avan Jogia as Oliver Kennedy 56 Days (1x01)
AVAN JOGIA as OLIVER KENNEDY in 56 Days (Episode 1)
Leon frowned but bit back the urge to protest. She was still beating herself up. It was his job to defend his wife... Even against herself. He watched Claire wipe the tears from her face then took a moment to gather himself, fingers idly twisting the wedding band he always put back on after a mission. He inhaled deeply and slowly released the breath; he actually felt better after doing this a few times.
"Hey, that's my wife you're talking about," he said with a little smile, finally lifting his head enough to look at her again. "Be gentle be her." God, why was he like this? He supposed she wasn't so different in that regardโcracking stupid jokes and having dry humorโand neither was the older Redfield. Chris Redfield: his brother-in-law and someone he'd grown to love like family. He was family and one of Leon's dearest friends.
He would be elated to hear about the pregnancy. Shit, he'd probably put together some kind of party for the three of them that involved a barbeque in the backyard and all of Claire's favorite treats he could get his hands on. Alcohol wasn't an option anymore so Leon would waive the offer, drink something else that Claire could also enjoy. Picturing this scenario made Leon feel worse actually.
Because instead of needing to process the news and sit on it a few days, he should be expressing joy right now. He'd always wanted children. And now here Claire was, actively growing a tiny human inside of her, and all he wanted to do was run his hands through his hair and work on breathing exercises. He could handle most things life hurled at him, but the prospect of becoming a dad?
It seemed too... surreal. Too good a thing to be happening to him.
So the hug was very much welcomed. At first they kind of just maneuvered their limbs to make it work, but he needed more after the first minute. She was pulled into his lap to be straddling him with his arms tightly wrapping around her, their cheeks pressing as his chest moved against hers. His breathing soon calmed againโinhaling her scent had that effect on him.
"I don't want you to be disappointed by my reaction to this," he explained further. Wanted... no... needed Claire to understand. "I think once it sinks in, I'm gonna be so insufferable. Bouncing off the walls probably." He sniffed quietly and let his eyes close. "I'm happy, Claire. I promise. I'm just... in shock, I guess? Can't shake it off yet." Then he was pulling back before he was pulling her in moments later, pressing his mouth to hers in tender pecks.
"I love you, but you have got to be more gentle with yourself. For me, at least?"
Claire is malleable to Leon's touch. She allows him to pull her in a strong drag with his arms, repositioning her to be closer. She sags a little as she simply relaxes into him. Stress takes it out of a person. Weeks of it are crashing down spectacularly and she longs for something like rest for a change.
Usually she's the opposite. Her poison is being busy, ever the workaholic in her own way. She's even on-the-job when she's clocked out but here and now she thinks she needs to have a slow day without her usual work screens burning her eyes.
Said eyes blink open again when Leon begins to talk. She listens and she considers his words. She doesn't think she's disapppointed โ would have been if telling Chris was off the table, though she has full permission to share the surprising news. He threatens to be insufferable and she huffs a soft breath.
"Nice to meet you, Happy." Claire reflexively murmurs. She doesn't know how to word it delicately, so she defaults into safe silence. She doesn't care if he's shocked. He's not running and he's not upset, that's enough for now, and she knows the excitement and happiness will come in endless spades when she opens up to Chris. Which is likely a tomorrow thing because she can't sit on this for another stint of weeks.
She smiles a little at the pecks and wrinkles her nose at the request. "Mmh." She answers in a non-committal hum. "I will try." The tiredness feels more pronounced now. She feels disgustingly wet from the tears and although the anxiety is easing there's still a tiny ugly claw dug into her chest. She doesn't even know what for, maybe shrugging away weeks of the stuff takes a bit of time. "My first gentle act will be going back to bed, I think. I need a nap." She huffs with an almost-smile. Feels so weird. She's not the slow down type but she's feeling wiped.
Claire. A sweet name. A French name, too. Was she from hereโฆ? No. Her accent had Yanqui stamped all over it. And her surname was not at all French either. But it suited her. Like that adrenaline-fuelled clear laughter at their little scape.
Luis wanted to smile and grin wildly โ but Claireโs demands made him hesitant again. He looked to her with big grey eyes, then glanced to the samples for a moment.
If he handed them overโฆ would she really wait for him? What said she wouldnโt just vanish? She had what she wanted after allโฆ
Butโฆ did that really matter? Why was he so concerned about her waiting for him? Just an hour ago, he had tried to get out of here all on his own. Maybe their temporary truce and companionship already meant way too much to him. He needed to get a gripโฆ
Before he could reconsider, Luis handed the container over to Claire.
โ30 minutes. Bercy Seine bus interchange.โ, he nodded along the words, his eyes staying in Claire for a moment longer, โI trust you.โ
And then Luis ran.
It was a flurry of lights, concrete, cars and people. Like Paris had always been, but this time Luis would not be able to ever recall, how he made it to his tiny apartment in the little rundown side alley. He didnโt own much. But what he owned, he cared for deeply. The large bag he had arrive din Paris with was enough to throw in everything. His clothes changed just as quickly. A small wooden box with treasures. A postcard that had never been sent. His passports and IDs. His documents. A lighter he couldnโt part with. And then he bailed again โ just in time to see several suspicious black cars with tinted windows roll down the cobblestone streets.
Running, hiding, ducking, using busses and trams. He needed more time. He didnโt make it back to the large bus station within 30 minutes. It was more like 45. The underground bus stop was as hot and the air there as stuffy as ever.
Luis turned in circles, hands tightly clutching the bag slung over his shoulder, eyes searching for a flash of red between all the people.
Had she played him...?
Claire can sense the hesitation. Part of her wants to grab Luis and shake him around like a slinky until he sees it's a good plan. What's the point of making it this far if he brings the samples right back to Umbrella? Luckily she doesn't have to argue this with him. He comes to his own conclusion and hands the heavy container over.
She brightens a little and nods along with him. Then her lips part at his admission.
I trust you.
Before she can even begin to unpack that he takes off running. She stands idle for a moment and watches him. Then she gives a harsh shake of her head and hitches the container with a tighter grip. She has to hold it against her chest with both arms to run, the weight of it is too much for her to carry in one hand.
It's more straightforward for her. She isn't packing away her life, but she thinks the added minutes should buy Luis enough time to catch up with her. She has already timed herself making this escape before. She should be greatly disappointed how much this container weighs her down, instead she reasons it away. Why is she thinking so much about him catching up too?
Why is the wait at the station so tense? Her chest tightens with anxiety each minute Luis' expected arrival ticks over. She thinks Umbrella may have actually caught up with him. Just a few more minutes, she reasons. Their bus is set to leave at the 40 minute mark. For once she's thankful it's running behind schedule.
Claire thinks she's the kind of person whose smart enough to get on the bus if he's a no-show. It's cold but it's logical. Deep down, though, she has to know. Her feet are itching. The container feels so much heavier now that she considers where to stash it. If the bus leaves, she has to try find him, but she doesn't even know where to start โ
Oh, thank FUCK.
She can see him arrive. Witnesses how he looks around full of nervous energy. She's a bit short to immediately spot among the crowds. So she places the container down, stands on it and brings her fingers to her lips in a very fucking rude Yanqui whistle while she waves at him. When he looks over she's quick to reclaim the samples just in case anyone tries to snatch them. She holds out his ticket. They're about to be crammed on a bus for 9 hours, one that probably smells as ripe as the bus station without any good airflow or windows that opened.
"You good?" She asks, glancing past him to try identify any tails. Seems clear, and just in time, their bus is being called for boarding.
@thxgrxmrexpxr | X
It's time for Claire to express confusion in the form of a lop-sided smile and a furrow of her brow. It's the question that throws her off guard. Why would she not want to know? "Because it's your name?" she offers with a small flourish of her hand. "You don't introduce yourself on the street with your callsign, right?"
There's a slow creeping realisation that what's normal for her was not the normal for him. Her smile sobers a little as it fully clicks. Oh. He's still H.U.N.K even on a mundane Tuesday morning at the grocery store in a slow-moving line with everyone else. It's not like many people approach for introductions in day-to-day life, and there isn't a social contract where one has to offer their name.
Huh.
"Grim Reaper." She echoes, taking what is offered. She has to weigh it a little. Still doesn't feel right, but it isn't about her and her feelings. "Okay. How about Reap?" It sounds less like a title. Almost the shape of an actual name instead of a moniker that reduces him to what he can do. Almost. It's about the closest one can get between H.U.N.K and Grim Reaper.
