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Not today Justin
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@ofbsaa
MEET ME, BROTHER, MEET ME FOR I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY HE MIGHT AS WELL COME AND TAKE MY SOUL CAUSE I WON’T NEED IT ON MY DYING DAY.
INDIE: PRIVATE: MUTUAL ONLY - INSCRIBED BY HAWKE. DIVERGENT DANTE ‘SPARDA GRAPHIC’S VIA. WARSRPH VIA CAPCOM’S DEVIL MAY CRY PERSONAL / NON- RP DO NOT REBLOG.
self promo
Since we’re all one big happy capcom family
Hello babes
@seraphimate @hellshumanity @devilglow @nxros
A family can be one suffering uncle, and 3 murderous gremlin nephews
self promo
Since we’re all one big happy capcom family
Hello babes
self promo
Since we’re all one big happy capcom family
Hello babes
hello can i interest u in some fresh chris/leon ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
There is a knock as Redfield's door. But when he opened the door, no one stood there. Instead, was a package. White box, with redribbons and a red bow ontop. A small bat shaped tag simply read, in purple ink, 'Merry Christmas. From, Darck.' Inside this box, was a small bag of home baked chocolate cookies, a brand new gun cleaning and repair kit. As well as an ivory carving of both a large bear, and that of a wolf. Sitting side by side.
Opening the door only to find a package and no sign of life never fails to be somewhat unnerving. A weary look is cast about before the package is retrieved, card attached read before the captain steps back inside and closes the door. His previous frown has melted into something softer, fingers working to undo ribbons and open box as he retreats back to the warm confines of a cozy living room. The contents are what really draw a smile from him; the baked goods and the kit truly appreciated. But it’s the carvings that truly grab his attention, the meaning behind both animals now carefully held not lost on him.
Dots have slowly started to reconnect—enough for Chris to recognize and match this bear to the wooden one resting on a nearby shelf. (Gifted and engraved under a different name. A fast still lost on him, serving as pieces to a puzzle he isn’t yet aware his mind is subconsciously trying to piece back together.) Setting them down beside the older gift he steps back, admiring the craftsmanship of Darck’s work.
“Looks like you’ve gotten better.”
@devilglow #newsflash asshole u'll only hear from him by Leon until u apologize
That’ll be a quiet Christmas
"Not a Hero dlc"? I don't know her.
@ofbsaa replied to your post
Someone give me some vodka and whiskey so I may forget ever hearing this
How does it feel like to know every time you scolded me I got off to it huh
❝ i can feel your pulse. it jumped. ❞ Waking the boy up from his nap because ur weirded out from his arm smdh 8/
THE FIVE SENSES / SENTENCE STARTERS
While the sight of Nero’s arm in this state was one Chris was growing used to, didn’t mean it was one he felt comfortable with yet. Just regard it as normal and be done with it. Because sure, pretending it was the norm was so much better a way of coping. He shrugs off somewhat bitter thoughts, (Quietly kept tohimself behind a stoic facade and expressionless mask when regarding the topic.) cocking a brow with gaze falling back to arm for the briefest moment. “You got all that from a light brush of my arm?” There’s genuine interest there; a curiosity to the answer of a question that might prove to be anything but simple. There’s no annoyance in his tone to being called out. Especially not when both know well Chris´s unspoken discomfort.
“Sorry for waking you up.”
❝ you see me for what i truly am. ❞
THE FIVE SENSES / SENTENCE STARTERS
How he regrets to meet that statement with awed silence. Said silence now hanging between them, their eyes locked. It’s nothing short of a compliment in his eyes. Hands reach out to hold those of his partner, his gaze soft. If Leon had meant it as something bitter or self decapitating, he doesn’t see it.
“A good man, with his heart in the right place. Dedicated, strong—and still so very caring. So very human.” Leaningforward, their foreheads gently bump and coming to rest against one another. “You always have been.”
❝ shhh, i just heard something. ❞
THE FIVE SENSES / SENTENCE STARTERS
Movements still at warning; posture rigid and frozen in place with only the slightest creaking of leather straining under layers of clothes and the bare minimum of armor. Sound of a weapon shifting. Soft sounds that do not echo or rise above the din.The agent strains his ears to catch the source of sound. Eyes darting for a sign of movement before looking to Snake for a sign. The only response he thinks to make is the lowering of hand with questioning gaze.
‘Do you need me to crouch?“ With a reputation like this one, (and without reason to doubt YET) he has the BSAA agent’swillingness to follow given lead.
THE FIVE SENSES / SENTENCE STARTERS .
some may be nsfw and / or be triggering.
01 : TOUCH .
❝ i love this [ FABRIC ], it feels satisfying. ❞
❝ your touch. it leaves me breathless. ❞
❝ your touch is unlike any other. ❞
❝ have you ever felt anything more comfortable? ❞
❝ feel this. what does it feel like to you? ❞
❝ i wanted to see what it felt like. ❞
❝ touch it. i dare you. ❞
❝ you felt ice cold when i touched you. ❞
❝ you feel warm to me. ❞
❝ i love the feel of [ FABRIC ] against my skin. ❞
❝ i love the feel of your skin against mine. ❞
❝ i would never touch anyone else. ❞
❝ i love the feel of your hair between each of my fingers. ❞
❝ don’t you dare touch me. ❞
❝ i want to feel your lips against my own. ❞
❝ i can feel your pulse. it jumped. ❞
❝ let me give you a massage. ❞
❝ you feel like home to me. ❞
02 : TASTE .
❝ i love the taste of you. ❞
❝ i can never forget that taste. ❞
❝ fair warning, it does have a bitter taste. ❞
❝ no offense, you just aren’t my taste. ❞
❝ can i have a taste of that? ❞
❝ i have yearned for the taste of your lips. ❞
❝ that tasted pretty good actually. ❞
❝ it just left a really bad taste in my mouth so no thanks. ❞
❝ nothing taste better than chocolate. ❞
❝ i’ve got something you might want to taste. ❞
❝ i will forever savor that taste. ❞
❝ blood has such a metallic taste. ❞
❝ my taste buds are mad at me after eating that. ❞
❝ how’s it feel to get a taste of your own medicine? ❞
❝ you didn’t even taste it. ❞
❝ trust me, you’ll want to taste this. ❞
❝ i think it has a bit of bitter sweet taste. ❞
❝ so you tasted it, did you like it? ❞
03 : SIGHT .
❝ i see you. ❞
❝ i’ve never seen things so clearer than i do now. ❞
❝ it’s too dark, i can’t see anything. ❞
❝ how can you see anything? it’s pitch dark. ❞
❝ i’ve looked close enough and i see you for what you are. ❞
❝ please, just look at me. ❞
❝ stop staring at me like that. ❞
❝ get that light out of my face. ❞
❝ it’s so bright outside today. ❞
❝ what’s wrong? what did you see? ❞
❝ you’re scared, you must have saw something. ❞
❝ what i saw, you’ll never believe me. ❞
❝ i’ve never seen you before. ❞
❝ have we seen one another before? ❞
❝ you see me for what i truly am. ❞
❝ i didn’t see anything. ❞
❝ did you see that? ❞
❝ i can’t believe my eyes. ❞
04 : SOUND .
❝ shhh, i just heard something. ❞
❝ did you hear that? ❞
❝ what is that sound? ❞
❝ i missed the sound of your voice. ❞
❝ do you hear me? stay away from me. ❞
❝ i hear you, loud and clear. ❞
❝ i’m sorry, what was that? i didn’t hear you. ❞
❝ i’ve heard that sound before. ❞
❝ you didn’t hear anything at all? ❞
❝ can you hear what they’re saying? ❞
❝ aw, i love the sound of music. ❞
❝ i never said i could hear them. ❞
❝ wait, hear that? something is coming. ❞
❝ i could hear screams … ❞
❝ i heard you all the way upstairs. ❞
❝ you didn’t just hear that? that sound? that noise? ❞
❝ trust me, you’re going to want to hear this. ❞
❝ please, just hear me out. ❞
05 : SMELL .
❝ what is that smell? ❞
❝ i have missed your smell. ❞
❝ you smell nice. ❞
❝ it’s unlike anything i’ve smelled before. ❞
❝ i smell the food cooking from here. ❞
❝ do you smell that? ❞
❝ how are you able to smell that? ❞
❝ no offense but it really smells. ❞
❝ it’s starting to smell. ❞
❝ tell me, you’ve smelled this before. ❞
❝ i know that smell, it’s the smell of lies. ❞
❝ i can smell you from here. ❞
❝ are you smelling me? ❞
❝ i missed the smell of your hair. ❞
❝ i need to step away, get some fresh air. ❞
❝ do you smell that? that’s the smell of freedom. ❞
❝ i could never erase your smell. ❞
❝ i can smell the fear on you from here. ❞
Sits in front of him like a gargoyle while he's in demon form. Can he speak? Yes. Does he do it? No, he just makes clicking noises. He's super fucking bored and wants to waste time with someone.
This unique form of Nero is not one the BSAA agent thinks he will ever grow fully used to. Alien and far to reminiscent of the horrors he’s fought. It's not something he is stupid enough to mention to the kid, or anyone for that matter. Instead he sits there, quietly staring back with questioning gaze. The unspoken question: What are you doing? hanging between them. Chris isn’t giving him much to go on, nor does he ignore or shun the other. Blame that little PANG of curiosity tugging at him.
“I hope you’re comfortable, cramped up in my office like this”
Late Night Dreams
@darckcarnival
A night like any other, quiet and calm. Except this lacked a night terror, a dream taking hold.
Unrecognizable landscapes, dark corners, the way a dream is in a haze. And yet some things could be clear as day- Such as Chris himself. Wearing his full combat gear, M-16 in hand, and barking orders out towards other BSAA agents. Some sort of battle was taking place-
An explosion, near by. A car going up in flames and knocking Redfield flat on his ass. When he looked up again, there was a sharp hunk of metal flying right at him. And then, there was a shadowed figure that took the front and center, hands out stretched and catching this massive hunk of steel. Hard too see any details, were they wearing a cape? Cloak? Were they truly pitch black or was there a lack of recognition?
’—–!’ A name called out, but it was garbled nonsense. And Chris had been the one that called it out. There was a muffled laugh that came from the figure, as that hunk of metal was hurled away. Getting it’s self lodged into some wreckage. This person turned around and held out their hand. The hand gaining some color too it. Somewhat petite, but bleeding from the palm. None the less, Chris had taken it and been pulled back up.
There were hard to recognize words spoken between the two, yet Chris was smiling, asking about the hand and getting a response of ‘hurts like a bitch’… And then the scene changed.
Those two hands were still holding. But now, over a table. Elbows bent and pushing against one another. No more combat gear, and sitting in some sort of setting that held a calm atmosphere. Arm wrestling. Chris was putting up a fight, but so was the one hidden in confusing shadow. Like they were missing, some sort of cut out from a photo, or spilled ink in a story book.
“You’re shaking, I’m going too win.” Chris was smug, but enjoying himself.
“Nah, It’s just a size difference. Mister leverage.” The voice was feminine now. But sure as hell full of it’s self. “I could turn the tables, ya know.”
“Oh yeah?”
And then suddenly there was a glint of purple, and dragon like eyes were on that shapes face. And Chris’s hand was slammed down onto the table. There were a few moments of exchanged words and laughter…
“You cheated, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, well… Maybe… Yeah I did.”
“And how is your hand now?”
The figure looked down at their hand, flexing it a few times.
“Hurts like a bitch.”
There was laughter and then… Silence, as the dream faded away. And the morning came, with the typical awakening.
Hold on to those dreams. His brain yells at him to hold on. Recognizing the significance of such fleeting memories—their lack of detail not a bother. The battle would be so easy to write off as just a mess of dreams and memories meeting, merging. Wishful thinking on his part, for who does he know with the power to stop such a huge slab of debris? The only person his mind can recall with painful clarity is long gone, drowned deep within ocean depths.
No. There’s something much warmer to this. A familiarity and the knowledge that the person in question isn’t dead. You know this, you know them, you KNOW. Details already vague slip through fingers, and mind all but claws at the second part of dreams. Subconsciously smiling at the causality of it. Emotions unbothered by the darkness that swallowed them in memory before this, too, started slipping away.
Chris is left laying in confusion (Cracking open his eyes to stare at light filtering through curtains, welcoming morning with heavy sigh and one line repeating: Hurts like a bitch.). Part of him trying hard to fight off the darkness clouding memory, the other part taking comfort in lingering emotions of familiarity and. . . happiness. A kind of happiness that came with only a handful of relationships.
Why can’t he remember?
