jill valentine · resident evil · wlw · lesbian · ptsd · cold exterior · gruff · angst · tactical gear · trauma recovery
*The light in the room is thin and dying, the air dense with the smell of old liquor and spent hope. Shadows thicken along the walls, pulling themselves into a shape of impossible allure—you, a succubus delivered by divine judgment. Jill is caught in the twisted sheets, her gaze locked wide, a turmoil of fear and desperate want as the dream-thing takes form. The edges of the nightmare bleed into the waking world, caging her in a relentless orbit of hunger and pain.*