#withinawar

[titanium-martyr]

☼

☼:Favorite season (also asked by withinawar!)

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Autumn, without question, is Jill’s favorite time of year. She loves the transition to cooler temperatures (summer is too hot and humid for her liking) and takes pleasure in traditional fall festivities. Not to mention she’s an October baby as well!

[titanium-martyr]

"This stays between us."

She sighs, because she hears it every time. And she wishes he would quit it, but Jill knows such will never be the case. It’s his security blanket – reminding her that the actions about to transpire were to be kept between just the two of them. No trace of anything to be found – no screams, no impassioned cries, no openness. 

“I know.” Jill’s atop him now, breathing heavy as she looks deep into his eyes. They’re as dull as hers, but they dance upon her body with such longing. It is the one raw emotional link both Jill and Chris are able to keep, even when their minds are spiraling into the darkest of depths. Desire. And fuck, did it burn hot in the pit of her stomach. It always did – the one sensation she was able to tolerate, the one sense of feeling she’d grant herself before returning to the greys of her world.

One hand goes to brush his cheek, lingering for a few moments before it falls to his chest. The only time, she knows, that she can touch him without setting off the explosives. 

Fifteen minutes, and it would all be over – for that night, anyway. 

[titanium-martyr]

withinawar SAID: THEY’RE TOTALLY NOT SLEEPING TOGETHER

NOPE not at all what do you mean they fuck like every other night?? LMAO

[titanium-martyr]

all the text memes c:

Send “✆” for a morning text. 

[txt] Coffee and breakfast on the table for you. Hope you slept well. :)

Send “✉” for a text that wasn’t sent. 

[txt] i’m so tired of pretending …  so tired of hiding everything and god i just need you here chris i don’t think you understand i’m too far gone and you’re the only thing that ever works for me anymore 

Send “☎” for a rushed text. 

[txt] Dnt worry am fine 

Send “⁇” for a drunk text. 

[txt] drop by fo r a quickie?? in desprat need 

Send “ø” for a late night text. 

[txt] Wanted to let you know how grateful I am for you. Thank you for everything – thank you for sticking around and being the one good constant in my life. 

Send “✘” for a hateful text.

[txt] I can’t get fucking through to you, would you put down the goddamned bottle for once and get a grip?

[titanium-martyr]

withinawar They’re in a pretty tight spot.               And a moment hasn’t passed where he felt they weren’t going to survive.     This mansion of sorts, a collision of nightmares; Chris even thinks about his little sister, and the list of apoligies he’ll never be able to say to her. He thinks all of this while staring into pale blue eyes. A pair that have been exposed to a twisted darkness- he could see fear, confusion, death. They both had considered death to happen sometime in this…but what lied underneath the actual case had  become an actual series, a chain of the unforgettable. Chris was only twenty-five years old. But that’s all a person was right  now.  Name,  age, status. He’d  feel  less  connected to  her if he  knew less.Though  it  wasn’t happening anytime soon because he knew enough to care about what  happened to her if she didn’t make it out alive. He can feel her breath linger at his neck, and he can hear her breathing. In a tight spot   would  be   an  understatement;  they were close enough to feel each others body heat. Their proximity was more than a   tight spot. But that’s   what  had  to happen  for  them  to fit  under  the crawlspace that was supposed to be under the bed. That Jill crept over him, focusing on the deadpanned voices that once belonged to living people. They ran, probably faster  than they  could- cornered at   times,  leaving this room without  a key the only  option.  He breathes, drifts off into too much thought…fearing for his life but won’t show it. He’s run out of options, he doesn’t want to die. Neither of them. She’d probably try and stop him if he opted to play hero and distract the crowd that was searching for them. He remembers he’d been staring at the pairs of undead drag their bodies across the floor, the only audible sound besides themselves; being the ticking tock that seemed to echo throughout the thin walls. He returns his sight on pale, sad eyes. “I’m not sure if we’re getting out of here…but you’re probably thinking that aren’t you?” There’s nothing left that’s going to monitor his speech, because the feeling of death is near.     “I don’t know you that well…but I’ve heard enough to care about you so I’m sorry if we die…here. I want to go out there so at least you survive, but I know you won’t let that happen because  you’re all about bringing people with you and not giving up. Jill, I really…care about you and I’d do anything to make sure you’re safe and alive. So… I’m going to make sure we both make it out of here, and I’m going to protect you until I die. Nothing’s going to happen to you because I won’t let it. You don’t know me… but starting now you’re gonna have a hell of a lot of time to. We’re partners, and this time words are going to define us. So we’re gonna get out of here, and you’re not gonna let go of my hand until we leave this place. If there’s anything worse than what lives here- it’s being alone. I’m not going to be separated from you, and you’re not getting separated from me. so…get used to this face, you’re gonna get pretty sick of it soon.”      he tries to joke somewhere towards the end, because he’s scared as hell. But this is a solid  promise. He’s not leaving her, and he doesn’t plan to. And if by the end of this-if they get out he will never leave her side. He’d told her multiple times that he cared, and often wondered if she caught on. it’s too complicated though.      “And if I’m getting tied up in this shithole, I’m getting tied up with you, Valentine.”

Tight would be an understatement. There’s barely room for the two of them to fit (a la Titanic, really -- though she’s not letting him go anywhere). She feels his breath hot on her skin, bodies awkwardly fitted together to conserve as much space of the tiny refuge that they could manage. She’s known Chris for maybe a year and a half, though the two of them had never spent a great deal of time together outside of duty. 

Sometimes it takes the strangest of circumstances to bring two souls together -- and such was the situation that Jill found herself in. For the past twenty-four hours, she’d never experienced such terror and isolation. That was it -- a matter of fucking hours. Just a day ago, she’d been on her way to location with the rest of Alpha team, slightly anxious but still not anticipating the gravity of what was to come. Now, as she lays still and silent beside her partner, she wonders if she’d ever go back to living a normal life -- that is, if she makes it out alive. Things look grim, though, and her fear is far more stronger than any hope that she still maintains.

She’s never been so scared -- and the verity of their circumstance chills her to the bone. Jill knows death and she knows loss. Four years spent in the army have steeled her to most everything ... everything she thought was possible, anyway. The undead hadn’t even been a thought in her mind, because before all of this zombies were  about as real as the fairies that little children dreamed of dancing with. Impalpable, make believe ... something only the insane would claim to see and know. Reality, to her, had no room for nonsensical imaginings up until this whole mess.

But Jill is far from insane (at least for now, so she thinks). She has smelled the rotting flesh, seen the decay of the human form. She has been in the grasp of one too many undead monsters, writhing against slimy, maggot-ridden fingers that pried wildly at her throat. These creatures are mindless, incapable of coherent thought or action. They aimlessly stagger the halls, arms outstretched mechanically as supernatural senses guide them toward the effervescence of the living.

Jill Valentine has never feared death -- but her understanding of it, the way of the world--is different now. Death isn’t absence, nor is it some portal to an unknown medium. Death means transforming into one of the very anathemas that haunt this damned mansion. Such a thought makes her nauseous, stirs a sense of worry and despair like she’s never known.

Any sense of togetherness in this whole mess had been immediately lost. She remembers the bloodied, maniacal grins of the wolf-like creatures that dismembered Joseph in mere seconds. And she remembers standing, stunned, unable to move from absolute and unadulterated terror -- almost certainly the next victim, had Chris not yanked her from her stupor and pulled her into a run. Not even minutes later, and they’d be separated.

She’s been alone with her mind for every moment up until now , silently thankful that her bonds in life are far and few in between. Independence is natural to her -- no mother meant it was just Jill and her father. He hadspent most of the day working, struggling to provide an income for the two of them to live comfortably. And then there was the army. She’d moved bases every few months, greeted by a new community. Few friendships survived her nomadic lifestyle.

Now, it’s different. She’s with Chris, and the euphoria of seeing another living, breathing person (and one whom she cares for, on top of that) is almost overwhelming, offsetting most of her fear and worries with a sense of such sweet relief. He’s as tangible as the nightmare that’s surrounding them, and the close contact soothes her racing heart. Her fingers brush against his arm for a fleeting moment -- the contact mollifies her to a point where she gain once again seize a hold of her rationality.

“Chris ... I’m so glad that you’re here.” Her voice is a whisper, yet it is firm. “Partners, right? We can get out of here. We can do this together.”

[titanium-martyr]

"How long has it been since you last slept?"

Jill shifts with unease at the question, angling her body so that she doesn’t have to face him head on. She is undeniably exhausted – no words are needed. The dark creases under her eyes paired with pallid, splotching skin tell the story of a woman who is beaten and defeated, unable to rest even in the still of nightfall. There is no luster in her gaze, no smile in her tightly pressed lips. 

She’s fought the urge to sedate herself for almost a week now, but the will is quickly faltering. Though her mind is well past the limits of exhaustion and her capability to perform work is slipping through her fingers, no repose comes. Eyes droop during the day, but stare listlessly into the ceiling when night comes, blood-shot and unable to look away. Nothing works anymore.

Chris is concerned – her facade is ridden with gaps and holes. Sighing, she runs a hand through messy blonde tresses.

“It’s just been a long week, that’s all. But I’ll be fine.”

[titanium-martyr]

[text] Yeah I think we tried to use the shower curtain as a parachute because its tied to my backpack with some string. Dont know if anyone actually attempted it though.

[text] Maybe that explains the mysterious bruises along my legs … 

[redfieldss-blog]

Conversation between two muses meme :)

send ㋡ to see a conversation between the mun’s current muses.

There was silence between the duo, it wasn’t that they didn’t know of eachother, because they did; it was for the silent fact that Claire was new around here, and even though Tommy had been here the longest, he still didn’t understand a thing about Claire Redfield. Other than, she killed Z’s too. (or infected as she called it) In the past week, he had really started to pick up on things. She had a brother, Chris Redfield, who often played the overbearing role of “older brother”. Sure, the two of them were supposed to be at the post, watching out for anyone who’d tried to get in but he wanted to break the tension.     “So, I heard that your brother likes to scare away any man within 5 feet of you, or with a pulse.” He adjusted the scope on the rifle, before glancing once. 

No reply. 

“So then,  wouldn’t  I be a problem” Long pause, but still. no reply. 

There was a long, drawn out sigh from the auburn haired woman. This kid didn’t know how to quit! How they ended up on the same watch post she didn’t even know. He was going on and on about Chris and Claire was close to walking away all together, when she heard.. 

“You’re not a man. You’re a kid, let me guess, 18? I really don’t think my brothers gonna need to shoo you away. “ 

                               Rude

“Okay but what about that Piers guy? He has a sniper rifle, he doesn’t look that old. I have a sniper rifle, I’m not 18, I’m 19.” He acted as if he was winning the case here. 

Her fingers wrapped around one of the bars that was holding the place up, and her face twisted into one of pure annoyance; 

“Piers isn’t 19, and a rifle does not make a man.. even though, his rifle is nicer than yours, but the BSAA has a lot to do with that. probably. “

   and besides, Piers wasn’t even a real issue in Chris’ eyes when it came to Claire. 

“fine,”

“whatever,”