nature boy

ᴛʜᴇʏ sᴀʏ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴠᴇʀʏ ғᴀʀ, ᴠᴇʀʏ ғᴀʀ, ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʟᴀɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ sᴇᴀ. ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ sʜʏ ᴀɴᴅ sᴀᴅ ᴏғ ᴇʏᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴡɪsᴇ ᴡᴀs ʜᴇ. // An independent roleplaying account of Chris Redfield from Capcom's Resident Evil series. // written by DJ. 30 / they/them // est. 2020 / rebooted. 2023. ( blog is currently under construction. )

( chris's clone DANNY is also available for interactions. )

( GOOGLE DOC )

i actually think the casting for jill and chris specifically was really great, it's just that the rest of the movie was so bad that they couldn't salvage it. robbie amell would have slayed hard with an actual faithful and non-condensed and fucked with to hell adaptation. jill's actress was also so excited to play the role and then they did ... that with her character lol.

it's a shame :(

@prodigum

sinday prompts ( accepting ) / @moldcursed -> coffee. our muses getting frisky in the kitchen, early in the morning

Chris lived his entire life with guilt that anchored him to the floor.

sinday prompts ( accepting ) / @auserwahlt -> awaiting. our muses making out and grinding while fully clothed.

sinday prompts ( accepting ) / @snipeheart -> radio. our muses getting handsy in the car.

morning after starters -> @dxskofthearchivxst - "Your alarm’s been going off for ten minutes."

Peeking one eye open, Chris's heart sinks just a tad as he rolls over suddenly to turn his alarm off. He never overslept, and even if it was a weekend he had always prided himself on his punctuality when it came to his routine. Turning to lay back on his back, he cranes his neck to the side to stare over at the blonde man he had spent the night prior with, amused and also thrilled that the guy hadn't slipped out when Chris was apparently comatose to the world. Bringing a hand up, he scratches at his scruff before sighing and turning on his side to get a better look at Odd, taking in the man's handsome features beneath the streams of sunlight peering into the room from the window.

He hadn't gotten this sort of look the night before, he'd been distracted with ... other activities. He was beautiful, no doubt about it, but he'd keep that opinion to himself, he wasn't exactly in the mood to scare off his hot date.

" I'm sorry. " He croaks out, clearing his throat once he heard the gravel in his voice. " if the alarm woke you up, I don't usually sleep in this long ... guess you wore me out. " He teases, grinning wide, canines on full display. " I had a great time last night ... full disclosure, I'm not opposed to a repeat performance. " In Chris's line of work, he had no idea when his next mission would be his last, he didn't live his life being shy, or at least not with the guys he screwed. Matters of the heart were more complicated, but luckily for him, Odd was a stranger, a stranger he'd enjoy getting to know within the sheets again. He could allow himself to be bold.

morning after starters -> @skycapt4in - "Let’s stay like this a little longer."

The thing about Noah was that the man was an utter goofball. Prone to teasing, prone to jokes, prone to that swagger he always seemed to have. Cocky little grins, flirtatious banter, and a penchant for sometimes not taking some things serious enough. Chris didn't mind, he wouldn't want Noah to change any part of him, that goofiness is what he had fallen for after all. Yet Chris wouldn't deny that when Noah said something so earnestly, so sweet and blunt and truthful without any sultriness or humor behind the words, he becomes near stunned into silence. Heart beat loud in his ears, he simply nods, pulling Noah closer into his arms, flat against his bare chest and cuddled close in the sheets in the same manner they had fallen into them the night prior.

To hell with his morning routine.

Chris's cheeks are pink, and he's smiling softly as he dips down to press one kiss to Noah's jaw, then his cheek and finally he captures his lips with his own, an eager hum leaving him until he pulls back to breathe, fingers carefully carding through Noah's hair. " You know I love you, right? " He admits, not the first time he said those words, and yet laying in bed with Noah, a tender moment shared between them, it felt like a good time for a reminder, and for emphasis he's darting in again, their noses brushing together affectionately, a trail of kisses following in his mouth's wake along Noah's cheek and jaw once more.

"You little bastard, you're turning me into a softie." He mutters, a laugh in his tone. They both knew the truth, he'd been soft hearted the moment he was born, no amount of grumpiness, trauma and a stoic mask could hide the parts of him that Noah already knew intimately.

My issues with it are the implications that Jill not only has been out of commission for years, but also that she and Chris barely talked at all during said years? The idea that Jill didn't know who Piers was, or that Chris and Jill have a strained relationship angered me. #NotMyCanon.

50 Specific Headcanons -> @niratias

Another simple answer, but Chris tells himself that he's fine. Whether it's physical or more often, mental, he will ignore signs of needing rest or help and just keep going. This is especially true when he's on a mission, he has a one track mind and he'll never give up, even if everything is telling him he needs to take a pause. Usually it takes someone who loves him to tell him to rest, sometimes they even have to yell.

50 Specific Headcanons -> @skycapt4in

I could say cooking, but that's something I've already alluded to in recent writing, so I'll go with something kinda silly. Chris is really bad at jigsaw puzzles, even as a kid he was shit at them. It's a shame because he can solve elaborate puzzles while running for his life in zombie infested mansions, but sitting down and trying to put a picture together?? Not great. He gets way too restless, his mind and body tells him he needs to get up and do something more meaningful with his time. ( Chris, the point of puzzles is to relax, you're missing it. )

DJ i've missed ur chris so much i love that youre back

50 Specific Headcanons -> @snipeheart

8. What keeps your muse up at night?

This seems like the obvious answer, but Chris had an undeniable large amount of survivor's guilt. If he's not being awoken by nightmares involving his friends in STARS, it's all the men and women in the BSAA that have died under him and more recently Ethan. Mix that with general nightmares about shit he's seen ( he puts on a brave face, but I firmly believe every protag has nightmares about these bioweapons and how scary they are ) it's not very often he gets a full night's sleep.

30. Who was your muse’s first kiss?

Chris's first kiss was with a boy on his high school baseball team, the sad thing is, Chris can't even tell you what his name was. It's been far too long, and he's been through too much to remember. Sort of twisted since Chris 100% lost his virginity to this guy because, of course two gay closeted jocks are going to experiment and fool around, but clearly it wasn't anything too special if Chris can't remember a name to go with the face. He'd have to pull out his senior year book.

34. What was your muse’s happiest birthday?

As mentioned, Chris played baseball, and he was really good at the sport. Chris's happiest birthday was when his parents took him ( and Claire ) to a Yankees game. And surprise! Not long after they took him to the Cradle of Aviation museum in Long Island so he could go batty over the jets. They got pizza, they ate cake and the four of them spent time together as a family. It's a memory that Chris will recall that both fills him with warmth and a hollowness in the pit of his stomach.

47. Name a song your muse can sing every word to. 

@snipeheart -> homemade love

Chris had never been gifted in the culinary arts. Helping his parents with meals growing up did very little to prepare him for the years of being Claire's guardian. Years of trial of error where he could make eggs, potatoes and bacon in a skillet without burning them, or undercooking a hamburger on a grill. He could follow instructions on a box to the letter, ever meticulous with measurements and yet food would still come out just okay at best or a disaster at worse.

And after Claire was off to college, Chris barely used the kitchen. He didn't cook, he lived a far too busy life. Even during those innocent years in Raccoon City he'd sooner eat pizza from a gas station with Forest and Jill than cook a single meal and that had only gotten worse as the years went by and he spent less and less time at home. Before he had been fine with it, but now? Now he wasn't alone, he was a boyfriend, and how else was he supposed to show Piers that he cared if he wasn't willing to cook for him?

That's how Chris found himself at the market, picking each ingredient carefully, and cooking away in his apartment's barely used kitchen until Piers was set to arrive ... and it was a disaster. Italian was supposed to be easy, he could boil pasta ... and yet why did his come out so chewy? Why was the sauce both thick and thin? Why were the meatballs strangely shaped? Everything that could go wrong did and aggravated didn't quite summarize what he was feeling.

Crestfallen, annoyed, dismayed, embarrassed? Far too many words could describe Chris as he tosses a wooden spoon in a sink and accepts defeat at the hands of an enemy far worse than any bioweapon. He dialed their favorite take out place and angrily pouted on the sofa until Piers strolled in, and Chris was on his feet in an instant. Bashful for once as he went over his disaster of a day and finally brandishing the cake he had bought along with the dinner ingredients, hoping that a store-bought dessert would soothe over the fact that his boyfriend couldn't cook him a single meal that didn't involve a grill or eggs.

Imagine his surprise when Piers runs his finger through the frosting and immediately offers it up to Chris and his anxiety over the dinner is long forgotten in favor of the cake becoming a weapon in both smearing frosting and flavor for their shared kisses. While he still felt downtrodden by the entire situation, it was hard to focus on that, not when his arms entangle around Piers and he's smothering him with sweet kisses along his neck, dipping beneath his shirt to reach his collarbone.

Leave it to this man to make his heart lighter, to burn away the insecurities about home life and his personal problems off the battlefield. Piers made everything better, made him better, and it became all the more apparent when he had cake smeared across his cheek and his beautiful eyes were showering him with such warmth. A gaze he'd happily wake up to for the rest of his life.