#Herosace

[manufactoredxbyxdesign]

Would you like me to remind you that your last word was my name?

“Get out.”

[red9]

next time something like this happens, you have to promise to tell me.

              PATCHING UP WOUNDS // @herosace

              More often than not he was painted a villain, for it was much easier to put hatred to a face and a name rather than a concept that lingered from some years ago. It was something he’d grown accustomed to, knowing that despite the rights he tried to wrong, there would always be those who hated him for a cause he no longer worked for. A ghost from his past he’d never outrun, despite trying time and time again. Yet through the hatred, the cruelty, he held strong- not just for himself, but for the man he’d come to adore. Even as he took to their cause, played by the rules, took up a life of trying to fix what he’d broken so many years ago- there were those that would rather see him dead to avenge those he lost.

              It would happen at the times he’d least expect it. Be it coming and going from work, a midnight coffee break, or even out with his love on a Friday night, attempting a life of normalcy with his partner. Some faces he would know from passing, mainly field men working for the government, or the BSAA, those who took up arms to help the cause to avenge those they lost. It was often those that held anger when they’d learned of his past, thinking that maybe if they raised a fist or had a chance to spit in his direction it would bring peace to the dead that were long since gone.  And what was worse, was that he never knew when it would happen. 

              How it started with a cigarette, the day having shifted to night with hardly any notice as he’d work. It was only when he needed a moment of relief that he’d make his way outside, still in a fine pressed lab coat, name tag on with his lighter twirling in hand. At times he’d forget what significance that red and white logo held as it was engraved into gold. Certainly the last thing on his mind when he’d be approached for a light, another soldier in need of someone with a flame- and how he was more than willing to oblige. Frightening, the way light conversation could quickly turn sour, like watching a flame ignite in a stranger’s eyes, the rage that would overtake them happening in an instant as they’d realize who he was. 

              The rest was always history, ending up on his ass as a flash of white pain would overtake him. A single swift punch, and he’d be laid out on the floor, ears ringing as he’d clutch his bloodied face, scrambling for his lost lighter as he’d take a walk of shame back to his laboratory to smoke in peace. Though blood still stained his lab coat, and his head would ache for a while, at least in there came privacy, attempting to hide what was done before Chris would arrive to drive them home for the night.

              It was the sound of his voice that would raise his head from over the sink, the blood mainly clean from under his nose, lip slightly split as it held the cigarette loosely to a side. Given the chance he’d die with smoke in his lungs, so the sting was hardly noticed as he’d turn to greet the other. Hoping he wouldn’t notice- but the man was far too keen, too quick to catch on. All it took was a weak smile, and the cheery expression he often was met with was quick to disappear off his lover’s face. Concern mainly, as he’d feel him pluck the cigarette from his lips, never wanting to be the cause of the crease between his brows. “It was nothing, a misunderstanding-” so quick to brush off any worries he may have had. Yet still he was adamant, eyes never leaving his, feeling as though he could see right through his playful act to the fear he held inside. What would happen when one day someone would go too far? 

              ‘Next time something like this happens, you have to promise to tell me.’

              Hands raised to gently take hold of his wrists, removing worried hands from his face. Instead he turned, lips meeting his palm in a tender kiss to soothe his troubled mind. “I promise, next time someone tries something, I’ll call you first thing. Then you can come down here, be the big man and scare them off for me. You’re good at that.” To think, he was just one more thing for the man to worry about- he never wanted to be that. Eyes dropped at the thought, attempting to try and shift the mood around to something lighter. “I was hoping you might play nurse for me- help take my mind off the pain for a while. I wasn’t done working- but I’m thinking I’ll cut it short, if you were planning on calling it for the night.” 

[tviirus]

@herosace ;; smash or pass for leon because i think it will be funny.

there's  a  pause  as  he  looks  over  at  chris. leon's  expression  was  blank  as  he  thinks  carefully  about  what  he  wanted  to  say. fucking  redfields... leon  couldn't  deny  they  both  were  so  attractive.

 ❝  smash. ❞

[viralstars]

Name: Christian Redfield.

Age: 25.

Do you like to cuddle?: If my partner wants to, yes.

Can we make-out?: I mean. Hopefully if I make you swoon enough?

A night in or dinner out?: A night in. Some candles, a nice dinner cooked. Have you all to myself.

Ice cream or chocolate covered strawberries?: …Why do strawberries have to be a Valentine’s Day thing? Guess it’s ice cream but that seems sort of boring.

What makes you a good Valentine?: My rugged good look? Kidding (kind of) I like to think I’m a good listener and could make the day be nice. Not sure if I’m exactly romantic; but I can try. Hopefully my charming personality is enough.

Would you cook for me?: Planning on it.

Would you let me cook for you?: Maybe next Valentine’s. Let me woo you first.

Be his Valentine

Wesker was never one to half-ass anything.... And this was certainly no exception. A letter arrives at Chris's apartment-- how had Wesker managed to get his address? The envelope is sealed with gold wax in the shape of an elaborate, twisted serpent, the paper inside a sturdy, high-quality stock, printed with a custom letterhead.

Mr. Redfield:

I thank you for your submission. Upon a thorough review of your credentials, I am delighted to inform you that your bid to provide me with companionship on the 14th of February has been accepted. A separate communication with specific plans will be forthcoming at a later date.

Thank you for your interest.

Cordially,

Albert Wesker

[alphateamsfinest]

My name: Christian Redfield.

My age: Old enough to drink (even if I do still get asked for my ID.)

My perfect date: Honestly? A diner, or a picnic. But if you’d want to actually do something, we could have a friendly competition at the shooting range.

Make out in public or private: Neither. Let’s not make out. If you want to make out with someone we can go drinking and I’d be your wingman.

Do you like to cuddle?: I mean – I don’t know. Never done it before.

Tell you something about me: I actually grew up on a farm in Arkansas.

Why do I want to be my Valentine?: I mean. I don’t but it seems like neither of us have a date. I could be your valentines wingman and we could find you someone. Plenty of fish in the sea?

Valentine's Day Application

"I'll take it, wingman. But also- why don't we find you someone instead, huh?"

[moldcursed]

@herosace​ sent :  Today, Chris had the day off (for no specific reason of course) so he made sure Ethan could have a relaxing day. As much as he knew he loved Rose, sometimes a little time to relax by yourself wasn’t all that bad. So, the whole day the youngest Winter and the oldest Redfield had been out of sight as they let her father relax. It was only sometime in the afternoon, did the two come back, Chris holding Rose, who held something in her own tiny hands. Sitting down next to Ethan, Chris spoke to her gently, “Go on, show Papa what you made for him.” Excited hands turned the gift towards her father to reveal a card; a Valentine’s Day card – complete with a drawing of a happy family; them. Leaning over, Chris gave Ethan a quick kiss, causing their daughter to giggle before he murmured, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

ethan  appreciates  chris���  gesture,  appreciates  the  way  that  he  was  trying  to  make  sure  he  could  have  as  much  time  for  himself  as  possible  today.  a  valentine’s  gift,  just  for  him.  of  course  though,  by  the  time  the  afternoon  rolls  around,  he’s  missing  his  two  favorite  people  like  mad.  the  time  to  himself  was  nice,  yes,  but  there’s  something  so  comforting  about  having  them  both  nearby,  hence  why  when  the  duo  finally  returns,  he  puts  down  the  book  he’d  been  holding,  attention  turning  wholeheartedly  onto  father  and  daughter.  before  he  has  time  to  say  anything  though,  rose  is  excitedly  showing  him  the  gift  she’s  made  for  him.  the  valentine’s  card,  with  her  little  drawing  of  their  family,  has  ethan  smiling  fondly  ;  chris’  kiss  just  makes  it  even  better,  too.    he  chuckles  softly,  murmuring,    “  oh,  you  two  ....    happy  valentine’s.  ”      then,  he’s  leaning  and  pressing  a  kiss  to  rose’s  forehead.    “  thank  you,  sweetie.  i  love  it.  ”    attention  then  turns  to  chris,  a  kiss  of  his  own  applied  to  the  older  man’s  cheek.  how  on  earth  did  ethan  manage  to  get  this  lucky?  he’ll  never  quit  being  grateful  for  it  all.      “  thank  you  both.  you’re  both  so  good  to  me.  ”          hands  reach  for  the  card,  which  rose  all  too  eagerly  passes  to  him,  clapping  when  ethan  opens  it  again  to  look  at  her  drawing  once  again.  that  affectionate  smile  still  on  his  face,  ethan  asks  her,    “  did  you  draw  this  while  you  were  out  with  dad  today?  ”

[tooxldtorememxer]

@herosace​ wrote:  “  yes,  you’re  very  smart.  shut  up.  ”  / to karl 

Well, at least he admitted it, although a bit reluctant in his opinion. But as it turned out, Karl had been right and Chris fucking Redfield had been so fucking wrong he’d needed to admit it. “Well,” he said, a grin spread across his lips as he put his hat back on that had fallen off in the shockwave of the explosion that had ensued. “If you keep listening to me we might just keep our fucking lives at the end of this,” it was a jab, but it was coated over by the gloat in his tone that showed just how smug he could be.

“She’ll know you’re coming now for sure. You just blew her most pathetic child to pieces,” spread around them were pieces of Moreau, or what was left of him, and it would be impossible to say what piece belonged to where. At least there was about half a carcass left in the former lake Chris’ men could poke at, but Miranda would know, for sure now, that they were there.

“So where to next, boss?” he mocked, and he could tell by the looks he was given that it wasn’t approved that he of all people would say something like that. Not once had someone tried to point a gun at him, but he could feel the tension in the group whenever he was near.  They’d probably been warned or told not to and he didn’t need heightened senses for that, but he was going to balance on the blade for as long as he could. for once he was being useful and his mind not just rotting in his factory. Though there were still things to take care of there, thus far, he was able to keep them out and he would be able to return soon to put the final part of the plan together. But for now, he enjoyed hunting monsters, even though they were supposed to be his own siblings.

[manufactoredxbyxdesign]

Hm. Didn’t take you as a coward.

“Chris you have ten seconds to leave me alone.

Or I will throw a desk at your F̶͓̊͑̃͠u̸̖̟̽̋̔̏͐͗̀̕͜͜c̸̱̥͗̇͌̀̔͗̒̓͋̇̈́̕͠͝͝͝ķ̵̢̖̻̠͇͇̮͓̮̫̣̬̰̙̑͐̎̿i̸̛̛͕͓͓̔̾̓͊͑̑͋͗̾̍n̵̛̰̬̻̋͛̾̃͐̈́̉̈́̽̀͘g̵̢̡̛͙͙͔̗͓͉͍̺̳͎̣̥̤̽͛͑̈ face.”

[rescuefield-arch1]

once stepped in the chopper claire had requested to be brought to new york so that she could get her report started, only for it to be rejected - something about how it would be better for everyone to be quarantined at least a few hours and make sure there aren't any latent side effects... especially considering her case. so claire abides to the bsaa rules for now, lets rebecca check on her every thirty minutes even though she firmly believes by now either one of the viruses in her system would have triggered already.

EVENTUALLY YOU'LL SEE I'M NOT WORTH IT. chris tells her once she's left alone again, gaze darting on him sitting on the bench across the room. she doesn't get it for a moment, intense gaze studying him through the glass between them - another fancier cell they've been put in today, much to both of their joy it seems. "do we really need to have this conversation now?" she inquires in flat tone, index tapping at the inside of her arm where pale skin has gotten reddish due to samples of blood being taken earlier.

lately being avoidant of everything has become second nature; avoid her friends, people she loves. her own blood not being any different especially with all the unspoken things piled on between them throughout the years. "don't let dylan's words get to you, he was a jerk." and although the truth of it all can't be denied, claire can hardly see how people being willing to die for a cause has to be chris' fault specifically. "you never gave up on me," she says then, shoulders shrugging casually when she looks up at him again. "not gonna give up on you - argue with the wall."

@herosace

[viralstars]

∗ 37﹕sender throws an item of sentiment bitterly at receiver. ⠀ ⠀ / listen listen – angst. perhaps an argument post-mansion??

nonverbal prompts

He didn't want to talk about it.

He'd tried to make that clear, but it seemed like the more he brought it up, the more Chris seemed to want to push, to ask more questions, to demand answers with increasing tenacity, until Wesker finally just snapped.

"I. Do not. Want. To. Talk. About. It," he insists for the eighteenth time. "It is late, I am tired, and it is a long story. We'll talk in the morning."

...That had gone over like a lead balloon. Chris was shouting, and as tired as Wesker was, as badly as he wanted to block it out, he was finding he couldn't. How dare he pull that, people had died, it was all his fault... How was Chris supposed to sleep with a monster like him?

Then Chris was storming off, grabbing shoes, and something was pelted at Wesker's head-- a Harvard University sweatshirt, the same one he had given Chris to wear to long ago.... And with a few more shouts and a final "Fuck you, Albert," Wesker is alone, and the silence in the house is deafening.

[rescuefield-a]

“ is that my shirt? ” PLS SIBLINGS STEALING CLOTHES??

features cringe slightly when chris' voice reaches her ears, head tilting slightly to side while continuing to chew on her cereals. has she stolen one of her brother's shirts? totally. but on claire's defense it's laundry day, and they both know all too well how long it takes for her to even consider actually starting any chores.

"you never wear this, give me a break." fingers tug at sleeve of shirt dramatically, clothing item actually seen on chris probably some time when she hadn't even started college yet. head nods at the empty bowl across from her, sock cladded foot nudging at his leg. "breakfast is the most important meal if the day chris, sit down and have some cereals." and maybe you'll calm down, she completes in her mind.

"we never get to do this stuff, you're always running." words fall from lips in a more disappointed tone than claire intended, lips curling into a frown as brief glance is offered to her brother. "i'm gonna wash your shirt once mines are done, i promise."

[moldcursed]

@herosace sent : Within the bathroom, the sound of running water fills the air, while sunlight dances across the table. Upon it, is scattered items that are currently in use. A bottle of shaving cream, the cap of his razor. A coffee, that had turned lukewarm as it’s owner attempts to rid himself of the stubble that had accumulated over the last several days he had been gone on some mission. The man admits, it would be much easier if he just turned around and looked at the mirror, the one that hazardously had a cloth thrown over it to avoid looking into it, even accidentally. As if that wasn’t enough, the man is turned away from the mirror, the curve of his back presses against the cold tile of the bathroom counter. He’s not clueless, he knows if he turns around and looks, the job would be done within five minutes. Yet, the bags under his eyes, and his current mentality leaves him in not right mind to do so, and instead he lets himself suffer in something that should be so simple. With a drag of the razor that makes him grimace, a long side of defeat leaves his lips, before he’s dropping the razor behind him, replacing it with his coffee mug, before he takes a disappointing sip. Stewing silently in his own annoyance, there’s no sign he even notices the blonde lurking in the shadows. The bathroom door sits ajar, enough to see in, for the older man had wrongly assumed he would be the only one up for another couple hours..

ethan  sleepily  stumbles  his  way  out  of  the  bedroom  ;  hair  is  a  mess  atop  his  head,  blond  waves  tangled  and  messy  from  the  night  before.  he's  on  his  way  to  the  kitchen  in  search  of  a  cup  of  coffee  when  he  sees  it  —  the  bathroom  door,  ever  so  slightly  open.  he  hadn't  meant  to  look  in.  really,  he  hadn't.  but  when  he'd  heard  the  defeated  sigh,  he  just  couldn't  help  himself.  there's  nothing  inherently  wrong  with  doing  it  —  ethan  just  cannot  help  feeling  like  a  child  who  happens  to  be  where  he's  not  supposed  to.  as  he  glances  in,  there's  the  clink  of  the  razor  upon  the  countertop.  discarded,  thrown  aside  in  irritation.  standing  in  the  shadows  right  outside  the  bathroom  door,  ethan's  gaze  darts  from  the  expression  on  chris's  face  to  the  tossed  aside  razor,  and  then  up  to  the  covered  up  mirror.  for  a  moment,  he's  not  sure  what  he's  looking  at.  then,  it  dawns  on  him  :  chris  doesn't  want  to  see  his  reflection.  he  won't  look  in  the  mirror  as  he  does  this.  ethan's  expression  softens  slightly.  he  understands  that  ;  understands  the  way  something  as  simple  as  that  could  be  triggering.  there's  moments  like  that  for  him,  too,  sometimes.  that  thought  is  what  has  ethan  lightly  knocking  on  the  door,  pushing  it  open  before  chris  even  has  time  to  answer.  there's  gentleness  on  his  features  as  he  steps  inside,  each  step  as  careful  and  meticulous  as  if  chris  were  a  wounded  animal.  then,  a  quiet,  soft  inquiry  :  “ would  you  like  some  help?  ”

[tooxldtorememxer]

@herosace wrote: post it note for karl <3

[manufactoredxbyxdesign]

You say that as if I’m easy to kill. May I remind you how many times you’ve tried and failed to do so?

"Would you like me to count all the times I've dangled you off of a hook like a side of beef?"

[heavenprotect-m]

⸻ @herosace ( chris ) sent. ‘ you call THAT a plan? ’

"yes!" the redhead huffed, almost pouting but somehow managed to keep a straight face. "look at our situation here, we're running low on resources, reinforcements are at least━" and he's being generous here. "━half a hour away and more than half of our men are down."

he points to the massive beast, the newest bioweapon on the black market, and it was getting closer to where they were holding up. "the least i can do is try to buy you guys some time so you can move the injured to a more defensible location, maybe i will be able to take it down but i won't know for sure unless you let me go."