#* leon graham. > reflection.

[alicethepiper]

i am officially unhealthy in body mind and spirit. over this teeny tiny FUCKING MOUSE.

i had a gift card and told myself that the next time re4r was on sale i'd go ahead and get it on steam (i have it on ps4, but lack of modding is a sad time). i'm not even playing the damn game, i'm just stopping every two fucking seconds to take photos.

this was the moment i remembered i'd downloaded the battle suit (literally only maybe twenty minutes had passed from me downloading the mods and booting it up. idk how i forgot, but this picture was a wonderful reminder holy shit).

MOUSHLEY

his REFLECTION i cant

leon bumped into a wall (i bumped him into a wall) and his reaction reminded me of that one photo of re2r leon leaning up against a wall and then some dude mirroring him on the other half of the photo he lOOKS SO DRAMATIC

more dramatics (king)

i teabagged the floor to see his hair move

good cop, bad cop. which is which?

IT SHOWS UP IN THE SHADOW. AHHHHH.

also i am not a keyboard and mouse (moushley) girl. whoever said keebee and mouse is the way to go, i don't know if agree. im gonna keep on trying because i think in the end it might be better, but i crave the comfort my controller provides me. this shit is way scarier when the controls feel foreign (and it doesnt help that im gawking at leon's attire). anyways. moushley is ratatouille.

Mods I used (i used a lot but these two are the only ones that show up in the photos lol): cathroon's Moushley Graham - Ratatouille Mod and TrieuPham's Battle Suit Leon

(thank you mod authors! i get such a kick out of these costumes and taking photos are so fun. i hope your pillow stays cool and your dryer never eats your socks)

[fightfected]

would you cut it out? i’m trying to help you.

@1stdaughter / 🙂‍↕️

the  bathroom's mirror  becomes  his  stability, his  arm  thrown   up  against  it  so  that  his head  can  rest  on  his  forearm  there.  if he holds his breath against the pain it does nothing but add to the growing headache which builds and swells and makes his heartbeat loud in his ears. if he exhales too harshly, the expansion of his lungs make him all too aware of bruised things they're housed beneath. leon can't say how long he's been there by the time that he catches the ever-familiar creak of his bedframe. he's almost lulled into some sense of security — he'd just missed her footsteps beneath his own pulse. it's that quiet concern in her tone when his name falls off her lips. it has him opening his eyes to smudges where his arm has slid, where fingers have drawn paths.

his reflection is marred by it all, he doesn't linger long there. instead he finds her over his shoulder, clear and reaching. her fingers against his arm, the way she comes around to put small of her back against the counter. like she can press herself between it and him — like he can lean on her. he wills himself to straighten out. it's hard to smile, however slight, when dropping his arm from the mirror is a gargantuan effort that makes him want to grit his teeth and steel his jaw. he manages something close. he even finds her tongue, and this question is at it's core genuine, ❛ trouble sleeping? ❜ when all he gets is a frown, something that sounds to swimming ears like an 'i guess', he decides quickly on pushing forward.

he doesn't shrug her off entirely, but he's faster than her when he reaches to the side for bandages he'd been fighting with before becoming disoriented. he's faster than her when he turns on the water to clean white stained red. his head hurts. his arm is an angry, throbbing thing. his heart seems impossibly faster with her close, and when he looks at her, he knows she's not buying it. ashley graham is a lot of things. stupid isn't one of them. she would've heard the clattering of the pill bottles knocked over in his attempts to open them, the frustrated curse that slipped from him. the sounds of rifling through cabinets though he tried to move quietly to avoid this.

among her many boons, he counts this: she's a quick learner. when he goes for the rag discarded near to his shirt, there's a hand gripped 'round his wrist, CYCLE OF WHITE STAINED RED CONTINUED, and it crosses his mind that were he well, it may very well have been the light pop of her hand atop his. almost feels like she did anyway: would you cut it out? ❛ ashley — ❜ on the tip of his tongue is rebuttal, the insistence that despite all evidence saying otherwise, he's okay. he can do it himself. he wants to urge her to lay back down, that he'll be there in just a minute. he doesn't make it that far. i'm trying to help. he's seen the look paired with it before: the determination, the want to do good, to pull her weight. maybe she can't see that this isn't hers. he thinks it's more likely that she just doesn't care whether it is or not.

leon surrenders. where his arm had been hovering still caught in her grip, he lets it drop. his other hand comes up, splayed as though to say 'okay, okay'. he watches her out of the corner of his eye a long while — catches the way the space between her brows tightens when she assesses the spattering of purples and browns spreading across skin that'd stayed hidden beneath it through the day. buried is the urge to press his lips there, though still he knows he doesn't like the way it looks on her, can't leave it be any longer so after a steadying breath, he offers a smile. it comes easier this time. he even manages to find his tongue again, previously stilled in his reverent observation of her in his space, ❛ starting to think i'm being used for your resume; master of unlocking, construction worker — doctor. what's next, miss graham? ❜

[maetheartist]

RESIDENT EVIL 4 REMAKE ROLEPLAY CALLOUT: REWRITTEN!

Hi I copy and pasted my last rp callout for Resident Evil 4, if you noticed, no you didn’t

Hi there! My name is Mae, pleasure to meet anyone who happens to come across this post- I am a young artist, hopping right back into Resident Evil 4 after the hype died down- yes, I joined last minute, I know… but I may or may have not gotten attached to a certain someone and am down horribly for- Major Krauser - AHEM. BUT ANYWAYS, I am looking for some people to rp with for the drama, romance and ships alike! I am dying to find fellow people who share my interests and are willing to hear me out on the concept ideas I made for Resident Evil 4! But nonetheless, let’s get right into it, ladies and gentlemen! :DD and yes, I rewrote my shit, new rules!

So here are the rules

Lets start off with requirements and rules!

Self-inserts are welcome!

Have a semiliterate writing style, proper grammar, and use quotations marks.

I roleplay on discord, I will not be role playing anywhere else.

Do not try and convince me to do anything that goes against what I have as my personal rules… if you are a decent human being, I humbly ask of you to please respect my boundaries, and I’ll respect yours!

If you want to have an rp… please send me a writing sample of yours so I can get an understanding of how you write, and see if I wanna work with it. It’s not required! But highly preferred and appreciated!

No…

No Mary Sues or Gary Sues, please, it is literally not any fun if your OC is too OP and has no weaknesses, just no, I will point it out in the RP if it Happens.

No Incest or Sexual Assault themes in role plays, a hard no.

No smut. If there is to be a smut scene in an rp, there will be a time skip to after the scene, no during it, no nada, only before and after scenes, I will NOT be writing two of our characters doing the nasty baby making ritual. 😭

No… but…

No Smut, definitely not… but suggestive and flirtatious dialogue is allowed! If there are to be any sexual scenes to happen, there will be time skips.

No controlling my OCs! but I can understand describing things like rain on their skin and certain pains they feel on their body.

No one sentence or very short replies… but I understand a small sentence or two, but don't do it the whole RP.

Do not keep the whole spotlight only to your character and their ship Partner, it is not Fair.

My writing style is Semi-literate, I prefer semi-literate writers over text talk writers unless it’s OCC.

Don’t what that is? Here!

Semi-Literate example:

The Moon goddess her lake from the bridge, sighing in contentment as she turned her attention to the moonlight reflecting the water’s surface with a soft gaze. "The best place to be for the silence is here..."

Text-talk example:

*Suijin looked at her confused* what do you mean? *She raised a brow*

Stuff I do and prefer!

I enjoy roleplaying fluff, romance, platonic relationships, action, and or comedic stuff!

I accept OC x Cannon, OC x OC and Cannon x Cannon ships! I also heavily encourage self-serts!

AUs are welcome! Though when I say AUs, I mean the fairly common ones like Yandere AU, Enemies to lovers AU, etc, etc. BUT! I’ll always be open to hearing out whatever you bring to the table!

Paragraphs? WHERE?!? Paragraphs are something I am absolutely down for, and I love them in roleplays! Especially when they are very detailed! I do em too and I would love it if someone else did as well!

If you know what Resident Evil 4 is all about… then you already know, violence and gore is definitely allowed, lol. Dark elements too, as long as they fit under the resident evil dark category.

Characters I’m able to play!

Leon S. Kennedy

Ashley Graham

Jack Krauser

Ramon Salazar

Luis Sierra

Bitores Mendez

Lord Saddler

Ada Wong

Ingrid Hunnigan

The Merchant

Characters I’d like you to play, if possible!

Jack Krauser (Top of my list because I’d very much would like to do an OC x Jack Krauser ship, lol)

Lord Saddler

Bitores Mendez

Ingrid Hunnigan

Ada Wong

The roles can be negotiated before an rp, we can switch stuff up depending n what you’d like to rp, I am flexible with who I play as! but I fear the only ship I will not be doing is Jack Krauser x Leon S Kennedy, I don’t know, it makes me uncomfortable as I see them with a Jim Hawkins and John Silver relationship, sorry! (I hope someone out there knows treasure planet to know what I mean.)

If you worry about getting responses back to me late- don’t get too worked up over it, we all have lives outside of the internet, and we just have to accept the fact that we can’t always be available! But do keep in mind that it’s good to let your friends online know that you may have to disappear for it bit, it also lets me know you’ll be busy for a bit! :D

If you want to RP with me, that’s great! I rp in Discord as it helps to organize everything, and if you’re interested and would like more questions- shoot me a dm, and I’ll answer when I can, thank you, and a have a wonderful day!

[pizza-is-my-buziness]

Fictober Prompt Day Ten! Prompt: "It's okay, I'm here now."

Pairing: Ashley Graham/Leon S. Kennedy (Resident Evil)

Read below!

(and yes I am posting this here because I do not have the energy to come up with a title. And I wanted so badly to do something funny with this but my brain refused to let me avoid the post RE4 hurt/comfort moments that I could probably write about forever)

“You know, I really feel like all those rom coms have lied to me.”

Leon looks at her like he thinks she might’ve fully lost it. Like after everything -the monsters, the kidnapping, the plagas, the flecks of blood that she’d managed to wipe from her cheeks along with seaspray- it’s the sight of a completely normal, comfortable hotel room that finally does her in.

Which, fair. 

Ashley can’t blame him for thinking the worse, not after everything. It’s all pressing at the back of her mind like whispers from another room, promising that she could hear all the more clearly if she only pressed her ear to a closed door and held her breath. But Ashley is just fine with letting them lurk in the back of her mind for now.

Or, you know…forever. 

Because what does she need to relive all those things for? Isn’t it enough that she’s got blood and grime and sweat sticking to her like a second skin that she’ll never fully be able to shed? 

“Um.” Leon unbuckles the tactical belt that surely has to be as grimy as the rest of him, and sets it gently on the desk in the corner. 

“It’s…” Ashley points, feeling her cheeks color, and Jesus Christ Graham what the hell. She should’ve just kept her mouth shut. “There’s two beds.” 

She swears she can hear Leon mentally counting the people in the room.

Quickly, Ashley shakes her head. “You know what, it’s totally stupid.” She waves a hand, hoping that she’s not as red as she feels. “You know how there’s always just one bed in those types of movies and like Hugh Grant and Sandra Bullock always have to share or something and I’m just going to shut up now.”

Leon cracks something of a smile and shakes his head. His hair is dirty and stringy from sweat and rainwater and who even knows what all things considered and the strands brush his forehead in a way that still manages to give him a boyishly handsome appearance. If Ashley were to notice that type of thing…in between counting beds in a hotel room, of course. 

“Okay, well, I’m not exactly Hugh Grant so I guess it works.” 

“Yeah, definitely,” Ashley assures him quickly. “You’re much better than Hugh Grant anyway. He could never…” She trails off, crossing her arms over her chest before she can do something even more embarrassing like mimic that firing of a gun or something. “I’m definitely glad you’re here and not Hugh Grant,” she finishes instead, which is barely better, she thinks. 

At least there’s another soft sort of smile. “Thanks. I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

Ashley nods and keeps her mouth shut.

For once.

Leon doesn’t so much as offer her the first shower as make it obvious that he isn’t going to be taking one until she does so she might as well just put them both out of their misery and get to it. And any thoughts Ashley might’ve possibly had about protesting vanish immediately when she steps beneath the warm spray, tipping her head back and letting the water sluice down her face, her neck, between her shoulder blades, all across skin that had previously felt like it might never get clean again.

Now, at least, there feels like there’s something of a chance.

She takes longer than she’d intended, finally emerging to find herself scrubbed pink with flushed cheeks and damp hair, looking at her reflection in the mirror like she’s suddenly become a perfect stranger. Ashley reaches out, touching the reflection of what she knows to be her own face, left only slightly smudged by the lingering steam on the glass. Really, she looks the same. No one would be able to look at her and know any of the things she’s done and seen over the past few days. But still, Ashley feels like a stranger to herself, to the girl looking back at her with serious eyes, hollow and far away. Soon, all of this will be over. She’ll be back home and her father can feel reassured that he isn’t the reason that his only daughter is forever lost or dead or worse. And she’ll go back to school, back to her friends, back to…all the inane things she was doing before she realized that monsters were real and they were worse than any of the stories she’d ever heard around a Girl Scout campfire. 

Ashley ignores her reflection in favor of finishing drying herself off and dressing into the sweats and oversized shirt from the hotel’s gift shop. Seems like the safer option anyway. 

Leon looks slightly relieved to see her when she emerges, though Ashley is certain it’s because that finally means he can actually get clean and stop standing around in his absolutely filthy clothes. He points toward a collection of protein bars and peanut butter crackers on the table. “Help yourself.”

Ashley frowns despite the fact that her stomach is currently devouring itself with a ravenous determination. “I was kinda hoping for, you know, a double cheeseburger and a giant plate of cheese fries.”

Oh god. Just saying the words out loud makes her want to double over and start weeping. 

She is never going to take McDonalds for granted again.

Leon gives her a sympathetic look, seeming genuinely apologetic. “I know. But it’s been a while since you’ve eaten anything, right?” She presses her lips together, which is answer enough for him. “So it’s best to ease into it. Otherwise you’ll just…lose it all again anyway.” 

Ashley groans but doesn’t argue, plucking out one of the granola bars at random. 

“Trust me, I know,” Leon says, his apologetic expression turning slightly amused. “They aren’t my favorite either.” 

By the time Leon has the shower running, Ashley has nearly devoured the bar, absently flipping through the TV channels as she settles on the bed furthest from the door. All the programs are in Spanish, though she thinks she might be able to parse out what’s going on purely by watching what everyone is doing and employing some of that high school Spanish she’d feigned her way through.

Not that it matters, really.

She’s asleep before she even finishes eating the granola bar. 

And, eventually, her dreams take her back there again, just as Ashley had known they would. Back to the castle, with its stone walls and floor leeching the heat from her skin and smelling like damp and mold and something far older than anything she’d ever known. Something that would be around long after she was gone.

It takes her back to rough hands on her arms, on her legs, around her mouth. To the way a person looked as their head exploded from a gunshot, or as they lie dying with anger in their eyes. It takes her to leviathan creatures who care nothing for Ashley Graham, the only daughter of the President of the United States, who once thought she might ride horseback in the Olympics but instead fell in love with antiques and architecture and the smell of an old house as it was restored back to life. People and things who saw her as a pawn and nothing more, something they would use until she was twisted and empty and a memory to the people who had once loved her. 

It takes her back to a cold basement room, a searing pain in her chest that was surely worse than dying would’ve been. To a weight she never thought she would be able to lift, to the certainty that she was too late, that she wasn’t strong enough, that she would never be able to actually do anything right.

Back to the feeling that she was going to be there forever, that she would die there in the dark, her mind filling her with the certainty, now, that she had never actually left there at all. 

But then it all disappears just as quickly, snapping away like the flipping of a light switch, and Ashley’s eyes fly open and there’s Leon in front of her and they aren’t in the castle, aren’t in some ruined Spanish village, aren’t fighting for every single breath they take. His hands are on her shoulders, sharp and insistent, and it’s that pressure that brings her fully back to the moment, to the hotel room, to Leon in front of her.

“Ashley.” His voice is as sharp as his touch, worry creasing his features, and he seems to relax when she exhales, blinking at him. “Ashley, it was just a dream. You’re okay. It’s okay. I’m here now.” 

He blurs at the edges and her eyes fill with tears and she’s too tired, too sore, too empty to even care about crying in front of him after everything. Instead, Ashley just leans forward, closer, and he lets her, his hands moving from her shoulders, one settling around the nape of her neck when she settles against his chest. 

“It’s okay,” Leon says again, quietly, his breath warm against the nape of her neck. “It’s okay. It’s over. You’re safe now.”

Ashley swallows, shaking her head. Her tears are silent, her body too exhausted to muster the noise that might go with them. “How can you be sure?” 

After all, she’d thought she was safe before. She’d thought nothing could ever happen to her. She was untouchable, privileged. 

What an idiot she was. 

Leon, to his credit, doesn’t rush to reassure her. Doesn’t just immediately start throwing platitudes at her and spinning the same sort of fairy tales that she’d believed in for far too long.

He’s just quiet, contemplating, as he keeps one hand settled gently against the curve of her head, the other holding tightly to hers. Ashley can’t remember how that had happened…had she reached for him? Had he been the one to hold her hand? 

It hardly seems to matter now.

Finally, Leon says, “Because I still have plenty of bullets.”

Ashley laughs, startled by the impulse, the noise thick and watery. She sniffs, leaning back and wiping at her cheeks as she nods. “Okay.”

Bullets, she believes in.

Just like she believes in Leon, how he’d been right beside her through everything, how he’d come for her and hadn’t left her behind. And how it feels, even now, to have him there beside her.

And there might be two beds, but that doesn’t stop Leon from settling himself down beside her, his presence solid and reassuring as he waits for her to fall asleep once more. 

[ao3feed-adaleon]

Red Reflections

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/wBY6Tgr by gravytoaster Leon never really left Racoon city, he never really left the woman in red behind. Finding a woman who doesn't exist is harder than it seems, especially when she's already watching his every move.   I have a third person pov that will be posted soon btw! Words: 1433, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Resident Evil: Welcome to Raccoon City (2021), Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: F/M Characters: Ada Wong, Claire Redfield, Leon S. Kennedy, Albert Wesker, Luis Serra, Ashley Graham (Resident Evil), Jack Krauser Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Ada Wong, Leon S. Kennedy & Claire Redfield, Leon S. Kennedy & Ada Wong Additional Tags: Rookie Police Officer Leon S. Kennedy, Ada Wong Loves Leon S. Kennedy, Leon S. Kennedy has PTSD, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Leon S. Kennedy Loves Ada Wong, Undecided how far into the future it goes, I think either into re4, or re6, depends on how I feel, Leon S. Kennedy is highkey obsessed with finding her, cop x criminal, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, No beta: we die like men, Self-Indulgent, chapters will get longer read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/wBY6Tgr

[marianna-liosi]

Digitale Raumstrategien /Digital Space Strategies

with artists: Ilghar Dadgostari, Fernanda Aloi, Jorge Baldeon, Sujatro Ghosh, Maricarmen Gutierrez, Tamara Margvelashvili, Cau Silva, Bo Xu, Karina Pino, Ricardo Sarmiento, Margarete Kiss and Leon Lechner, Hoayun Chung, Jongbin Park, Jae-Pyung Park, Marina Resende Santos, Graham Livingston, Sujatro Ghosh.

HAU4, 27 February -3 April 2022

A cooperation between weißensee kunsthochschule berlin and HAU Hebbel am Ufer.

The “Spatial Strategies” course at the Weißensee School of Art is concerned with artistic practice in urban space. Prof. Nasan Tur and Dr. Marianna Liosi have used the socio-political experiences under difficult circumstances, such as the pandemic, to develop a seminar series that considers digital space as part of the public sphere. In light of the capitalist structures of the internet, they ask whether and how artistic practices can overcome economic, gender and infrastructural barriers. What role does the audience play in this? What does artistic work in digital space mean if we assume that the public needs individual and collective care?

The individual or collective works presented at HAU4 take up a wide range of current questions. They are about personal and communal vulnerability as a trigger for social change, the potential and limits of digital space in addressing individual and societal memory and loss, the deconstruction of care within hierarchical structures, and the democratic accessibility and ecological sustainability of digital infrastructures. The proposed projects aim to reflect on the political transformations we can initiate in the public sphere in order to contribute to its permanent change.

Within the framework of the five-month cooperation, project ideas have emerged that the students present on the research platform HAU4. They show performances, text, video and sound material as well as social media interventions.

Digital Space Strategies, HAU4

Jongbin Park, Jae-Pyung Park, Lost Ghosts, 2022, video (still frame). Courtesy: the artists

[prettyflyshyguy]

Oops I wrote more C virus stuff

I got super energised and spent all night drafting up a one-shot about what happens when Ashley reunites with Leon post RE6 in the C-Virus AU cannon. It���s unfinished and is very much a draft, but I’m excited so I wanted to post what I have so far. I intend on compiling a bunch of these together and putting them up as chapters on AO3 and Fanfic.net once they’re edited, featuring various different characters.

You came this far just to become a Monster - The Aftermath

A brief summary: Ashley visits Leon while he’s stuck in quarantine. It gets a bit emotional. 

I’m assuming the President in RE6 was the same in RE4 despite the uh long time difference between the two games. It’s 9 years and I’m Australian so I know nothing about American politics but I think a president can only serve 8 years in one stint so uh maybe he’d just been elected in 4 and was just running out of time before he died in 6? I’m rolling with that for the sake of my head-cannon/AU storylines. It makes sense given Leon was described as being good friends with him, and we can assume the friendship started once he got Ashley back home safely after the events of 4. 

Given Ashley was 19/20 during RE4 she should be 28/29 post RE6 depending on her birthday. 

-

The conversation with Hunnigan echoed in her mind as she walked down the labs corridor. 

“While pursuing Chief Security Advisor Simmons, Leon became infected with the C Virus. He’s OK, don’t worry. It’s just we’re still running tests to make sure he’ll stay ok.

I know the report I gave you didn’t have much to go on in it, I’m sorry. I wasn’t allowed to provide you with much more information. You’ll just have to wait until you can see him for yourself.

He’s happy to talk with you, you can go down to the labs today if you’d like.”

“He’s happy to talk? You mean I can’t see him?”

The warm smile was betrayed by the sorrow in Hunnigan’s eyes. 

“He’s still adjusting to everything. He’s spoken to a couple of our doctors and he’s dealing with a lot of internal negative emotions right now, about what people think of him. I don’t think the tests are helping.”

Hunnigan reached out and gently held Ashley’s hand, squeezing it lightly.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll be happy to have you visit. It’s what he really needs right now. Trust me.”

-

Standing outside the viewing room door, holding her keycard at the ready, she steeled herself. The way the security staff described the setup, Leon had access to a shutter system on the viewing window, giving him control over how and when visitors can see him. It allowed him much needed privacy given his life since coming home was endless tests and scans and scientists. 

Tapping her card against the reader, the light flicked green and she heard the lock release. Pressing down on the cold handle, she slipped inside. There was a small coffee table near the viewing window, the shutter was down. A few chairs were on the far wall, she pulled one up to the window and sat down. On the table there was a remote control, it looked custom made for the setup. It only had a handful of buttons, the most important of which was a ‘call’ button that she was told would alert Leon that someone was in the room, and a ‘mic on’ button. The room had an inbuilt microphone and speaker system to allow comfortable communication even if large groups were there. 

It felt uncomfortably sterile. Worse than a hospital. She looked up to the top left corner of the room, where a security camera stared back. She was also told Leon had access to the feed. She wondered if he was watching now? Hunnigan said she’d call ahead. Was he waiting for her to do something first? Would he be upset that she was so hesitant? 

Shaking off the feeling she hit both buttons on the controller and flashed a smile and a wave towards the security camera, for good measure.

A moment passed before she heard a light clicking sound on the intercom, before a voice emerged.

“Ashley, hey…”

She was surprised that he sounded so… Normal. She wasn't sure what she expected, no one had given her any information other than that he’d been infected but he hadn’t lost his mind. There was an extensive report written about the events that went down, she’d been able to convince the BSAA to let her read a copy of it but it was heavily redacted. Particularly the parts pertaining to Leon. 

“It’s… good to see you.”

She was relieved to hear the sincerity in his voice, despite how slightly rough around the edges he sounded. He was Leon, that hadn’t changed. But she could tell he was different all the same.

“It’s good to, uh, hear you, haha..”

Her feet shuffled, she started bouncing one leg. Looking longfully at the window glass with the shutter still closed. She was fine with phone calls but this was making her nervous. It hadn’t been that long ago that they’d last spoke, that they’d last caught up in person. 

“I’m sorry, about your dad. I’m sorry I couldn't make it to the funeral. I’m sorry for everything, Ashley.”

“It’s ok, Leon. You did everything you could.”

Despite the lack of contact, the uncomfortable fog in the room was palpable for both parties. Her leg bouncing rate increased. Shuffling could be heard over the intercom speaker. They each heard the pain in the other’s voice. The wound was still fresh and very deep. 

Not wanting to have that conversation to a wall, Ashley attempted to change the subject.

“So how are you holding up? I mean with the tests and everything. Hunnigan said you shouldn't have to be in isolation much longer.”

“Uhh yeah… It’s fine. I’m doing fine.”

She let out a small sigh.

“You can’t bullshit me, Leon.”

Silence. 

“You’ve been stuck inside that room for almost three months now. You must be tired of it, and lonely.”

She paused, before continuing.

“When I got back from Europe after you rescued me, they kept me in isolation for precautionary testing for two weeks. They were paranoid I guess. I know for you they didn’t need long to clear you of any issues. Those two weeks were the worst of my life.”

“Worse than being injected with a mind-controlling parasite?” he joked back. 

“Much, much worse.” she playfully replied, “I didn’t have a strong, capable, and handsome government agent to save me from a bunch of creepy scientists in hazmat suits.”

She heard what sounded like a muffled laugh. A smile crossed her face. 

“Unfortunately for me the only ‘strong, capable, and handsome’ government agent I know is limited to Visitors on Wednesdays only.”

This made Ashley giggle suddenly, the first time she’d properly and genuinely laughed since before the C-Virus incident even occurred. 

“When I came home, Dad was so worried. He just wanted to make sure I was gonna be ok. He was always so busy and worked so hard. He just wanted to make sure he could change something for the positive. In the end you made sure that happened. You and Helena.”

A tear rolled down her cheek and gently dropped off her chin. Followed by another.

“I’d known Simmons for just about my whole life, he’d had family dinners with us, we’d visit his house frequently. Dad had confided in him about so much I just… I can’t believe he’d betray us like that. I can’t believe he would be so selfish.”

The tears were making it hard for her to see, her words were mixed in with sharp breaths as she began to sob.

“He killed dad and all those people, after everything, he just fucking killed him and killed everyone else and burned it to the ground all for what!! And now he’s gone and I don’t know what to do, Leon I just don’t know what to fucking do!”

She cried for a moment, letting the anger and the grief flow. Purging her system, letting it out. As she started to calm down she pulled a packet of tissues from her bag, to clean her face.

“I want to make a difference. I want to do something, like dad did.” she said slowly through strained breaths.

“I never want to feel helpless and small ever again. After you rescued me in Europe, after everything you did to stop Simmons, I want to do something for the world too.” 

She glanced up at the security camera, as if it would respond back somehow. Hoping he was watching.

“You and dad made me realise what I wanted to do with my life, what I cared most about. I even changed my college degree to International Relations when I got home but I mean, you already know that. Now with the BSAA here, I’ve asked Hunnigan if she can help me shift my career slightly, and work with you and everyone else here.”

“Really? You want to work for the BSAA?”

She nodded, not knowing if he could even see. Taking the moment to have a drink from her water bottle to gather herself.

“... I’ll put in a personal recommendation, if they’re still accepting those from me after everything.”

“Thank you Leon, I’m sure they will.” Ashley smiled.

“Well if they let me do anything, once the tests are cleared, I’d like to go visit your old man with you. If you don’t mind. I couldn’t be there for the funeral so… “

“Of course Leon,” she wiped a tear from her eye, “I’d love that. I’m sure dad would too.”

“I think you’d be great here, we need more people like you Ashley.”

“Of course, someone needs to be around to stop you getting into more trouble right?”

She was hoping for a smart ass response, a laugh, a quip, something. Her comment was met with silence. Her heart sank.

“What happened to you, Leon?”

He avoided responding, she could hear more slight shuffling noises.

“I know you feel uncomfortable, god knows I would too. Everyone’s talking about you, saying you’re a hero. You and all the others that worked together to stop the C-Virus from spreading. You saved people's lives.”

“... I don’t think you’d be calling me that if you could see me right now.”

The most she’d gotten to read about the effects of the virus on him were small comments about carapace and ‘external structural changes’. In all honestly she had no idea what he looked like, if he was even recognisable. She didn’t really know how to ask, besides the fact she really only knew Hunnigan well enough to be confident posing the question.

“I wouldn’t know. No one’s shown me any photos of you. I have no idea.”

He was silent again.

“But you’re still you, in the end. Does it matter what you look like?”

“It does when you look like a monster.”

She recoiled slightly at the tone of his voice.

“When I was in China, when it happened. It didn’t really matter to me. People's lives were at stake, Simmons was out there, I embraced it in the moment because I couldn't let people down. I needed to do something. I couldn't just give up and avoid facing the world. But now? I’m stuck in this cell and every few days I get more needles poked into me and more scans and more people asking me stupid fucking questions and I just.”

He paused suddenly. Breathing for a few moments.

“I can’t deal with all of this. I’m as good as a lab animal now. And why would anyone think any differently if they saw what I’ve become.”

“C’mon, don’t say that.”

Suddenly the shutter began to move upwards, a brighter light from the room beyond the glass spilling in. It took Ashley a moment to adjust before she could fully stare at the figure sitting opposite her.

“If you were in trouble and the thing that came to help you looked like this, would you still call it a hero?” 

[aquidragon]

blue eyes and jazz and attitude

Rating: PG-13

TW(s): Potential innuendo to nsfw themes

Summary: You had been dependent on Leon for some brightness in the cruel world you both lived in, and he depended on you as well. After years of being close friends, Leon asks you an important question at a DSO-hosted gala. 

Category: Fluff with a sprinkle of angst and spice

Word Count: 1845 Note: I personally pictured re4r Leon from the cutscene of him at the start of the game for his appearance in this fic :)

---

His blue eyes were always his most striking feature. A brilliant cyan, brighter than the sky and deeper than the ocean. Every single emotion he felt was reflected in his eyes, light like the sunlit waves of the Atlantic, or grim like restless waters before a hurricane. You felt yourself being pulled towards his daunting gaze, when it met yours from across the room. He smiled at you, his lips tugged in a half smirk. 

Leon wore a form fitting, dark navy suit that looked black at a distance. His blonde hair was combed nicely around his angular cheekbones. Every single woman he walked past, looked back to stare at him. You were even certain that you caught some men shooting the agent some glances, before anxiously turning their eyes back to their drinks. You almost laughed at the sight, the universal impact of agent Kennedy on people.

It was like he was a god amongst men. Untouchable, powerful, yet so alluring to stare at. You couldn’t blame them, as you were unable to avert your gaze. He stopped at your table, where you were slowly working on your champagne. The bubbly, pale flaxen liquid swished around your glass as he approached. Leon greeted you with a friendly wave, before taking the seat beside you. “You look lovely tonight,” your name always sounded like hot honey on his tongue. 

You looked back at him, mirroring his half-smug grin, resting your chin on your palm. “You  don’t look half bad yourself, Mr. Kennedy.” You purred playfully, teasingly lifting the hem of his trouser sleeve by his ankle with your foot. The blonde lifted his eyebrows, an amused huff escaping his nose. 

“Excuse me, sweetheart, but I think I look great.” Leon lifted a hand, gesturing a nearby waiter over. “Although, I don’t think I could pull off that dress you're wearing nearly as well.” His voice was a seductive, low tenor. His very tone sent delighted shivers down your spine, which tingled down to the ends of your fingertips. 

“I could easily wear the suit you have on, it’s not even a contest.” You teased back, as the waiter set down a glass besides Leon’s hand. It was a mixed drink, a drop of cola amongst a sea of amber whiskey. He quickly took a sip, letting out a delighted groan. 

“We can trade clothes later, if you want, doll.” He lifted his blue gaze over his glass, to look at you. “Although, I’d have to see you put it on, no funny business.” Leon took another drink, while your ears heated.

“Awfully scandalous, don’t you think?” You jested, through your flustered thoughts. “President’s favorite, and random communications agent? Human Resources won’t like that.” You decided to take a sip from your own alcoholic beverage,  the bubbles buzzed over your tongue. “How do you think people will react when they see us sneaking off to another, closed off room, during a company gala?” 

Leon snorted, looking at the nearby party goers, all dressed in their cocktail formal. “Who gives a shit, I outrank everyone in the room; practically.” He looked at you smugly, “including you.” 

Your eyes widened in faux dramatics, crossing one leg over the other. You could feel the fabric over your legs tighten. “Even more scandalous, I can’t be seen sneaking off with my superior. That’s certainly against the rules, Graham would have to fire his favorite agent.” You giggled, invested in your little back and forth. A commonality, in your vague relationship with Leon. 

“I can put in a good word.” Leon mumbled, looking into his glass. “I’d get demoted for you in a heartbeat, anyway, sweetheart.” His eyes lifted back to yours, in a dazzling flash of ice blue. “You know that.” 

You flushed, the flesh beneath your face heating significantly as your heart trembled.  “Maybe I should get promoted for you, instead.” 

This made the agent beside you double over in a brief burst of laughter, in a good nature. “Might have to rescue the President’s daughter from a parasite-infected, cultist village in Spain before you can reach my level.”

“You don’t think I can?” You jeered. 

Leon tapped his fingers on the white tablecloth, inspecting your frame, which made you shiver. You could feel his eyes piercing your skin like ice, making your heart pound against your chest like a deranged animal. “Perhaps with a little bit of training.” He concluded, sarcastically, finishing off his whiskey. 

You threw a crumpled up napkin at his forehead, gasping in mock offense. “Rude!” 

The faint, orchestral music from the quartet began to play. You recognized the ballroom melody, Dvorak’s Serenade for Strings in E Major, Tempo di valse. A waltz, which attracted most of the couples to the dance floor. You finished off your own drink, as the rhythm took an increase of tempo. Leon lifted an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly. 

“Do you want to dance? I’m not much of a dancer, but-” 

You snorted, giving him a small grin through the napkin you had used to dry your lips. “With enough liquor in your system, anyone is a dancer.” You rose to your feet, offering him your hand, “I would be delighted to dance with you, Leon.” 

He grinned at your name, his larger, rougher hands taking yours eagerly. Without a second  thought, he guided you to the dance floor. His spare hand ghosted the small of you back as you reached the ballroom. Leon gave you a nervous smile, which you anxiously returned. Mirroring the actions of the dance partners around you, he pulled your body closer into his own. Your chest lightly pressed against his torso, the warmth of his skin seeped through your clothing. 

Clumsy, at first,  you slowly began to move your bodies together to the melody of the musical piece. Your black heels complemented his glossy, black dress shoes as you attempted to follow the proper steps. However, your heel met his right toe, making him hiss in pain. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry!” You whispered, loudly, eyes wide. 

“Maybe I should use high heels for a weapon instead of a knife.” Leon grumbled, before breaking into a chuckle. You joined his laughter, your voices melding together in a perfect harmony. Briefly, his forehead rested against yours, as his hand that was on your back wrapped around to the curve of your waist. You exhaled shakily, your emotions whirling around your mind and chest violently. 

“Come home with me,” his words were so quiet you almost didn’t hear them, “please.” Your name was so sweet against his lips, you yearned to taste it. 

Your fingers traced the rough, wool texture of his suit jacket. It was thick, yet breathable as well. You looked up at him, his blue eyes dug deeply though your thoughts, as his hold on your hand and waist tightened. “Okay, I will.” 

You had always found some solace in Leon, as he did in you. When you had first met him, you were a bright eyed, fresh out of college graduate. He was older than you, but you instantly connected. During your first mission together, yourself in the communications office, him in an presumed-abandoned lab established by Umbrella. Your playful banter with him allowed you both to find some brightness in the dim situation he was in. 

He had always told you that you provided light in his life. Especially after a hard mission, when he’d return to your apartment, beaten and battered. Once brilliant blues turned dull with exhaustion, and pain. You would sit with him, gently guiding your hand down his back, as he sat quietly beside you. Words didn’t need to be shared, you knew he just needed you to be there. To ground him, to remind him that there was still some good in the world. Even if you weren’t a perfect person, neither you nor Leon were able to escape the flaws that made you both human. 

You rested your head against his muscles felt firm, yet soft against your cheek. The music slowed to a stop, with the next song following quickly behind. This time, it was a slow, sultry jazz beat. The lights dimmed, and shifted colors. Soft yellow transformed into a shade of cool blue with a subtle fade. Leon had stopped trying to dance with you, instead, opting for a gentle sway of your bodies linked together. 

“Y’know, you and I should get together.” He murmured into your ear, slowly, sincerely. “For real, I don’t give a damn about fraternization policies, or any bullshit like it.” Your nerves bristled, his volume no louder than a whisper. 

You looked up at him, your eyes dewy. “Leon,” you bit your lip, apprehensive, “are you sure?” 

He laughed, giving you a gentle, kind smile. “I’ve never been more sure in my life.” 

You glanced at the party goers  around you, too tuned into the music, and murmuring in a low chatter. You really only recognized a few of them, from the hallways of the DSO between offices. The company must’ve been large, judging on the miniscule amount of people you knew. They didn’t know you, but they certainly knew Leon. You had noticed stolen glances from many people, looking over at the prestigious agent, and some unknown agent from home command. 

Something deep inside you burned, you may not be known as your position as a communication agent. You could, however, be known as belonging to agent Kennedy. As well as agent Kennedy being all to yourself, despite all the prying eyes. He could be yours, and you could be his. Your mind twisted delightfully at the thought, as butterflies tickled your stomach and your heart fluttered deep somewhere in your ribcage. 

“Kiss me,” you blurted, quietly. “Kiss me right now, and I’ll be yours.” 

Leon blinked, your boldness had caught him off guard. However, he was always quick to recover. With a mixture of smug delight, he grinned, tracing your cheekbone with his thumb. “I’ve waited for far too long,” he exhaled deeply. Slowly, he leaned to press his lips against your own. In a passionate, yet controlled kiss. 

You couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth as you kissed him back. His lips tasted like whiskey, with subtle hints of honey and his favorite mint gum. You briefly ran your hands over his broad shoulders, the textured fabric of his navy suit jacket tickling your palms. After a frantic heartbeat, or two, you separated. You could feel the eyes of party goers on you, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t bring yourself to care, instead, wrapped up in brilliant cobalt looking directly at you.  

“Let’s get out of here, shall we?” You leaned up to whisper into his ear, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. “I’m feeling a bit tired of this party.” 

Leon’s chuckle was breathless, as if he were holding his breath while he kissed you. “I like the sound of that.” He winked at you, “drinks are on me.”

---

Part Two, perhaps? Let me know! Thanks for reading! 

Reblogs greatly appreciated 

[legilliimens]

another tag drop !

[ashrillvenheim]

Awakening Past

Chapter 11 (Part 2)

pairing: Ashley Graham x Leon S Kennedy.

Content: (+18) romance, angst, gore, erotic/suggestive themes at some point, slow burn, violence, action, self-harm, death talk,

If you're a MINOR or feel uncomfortable with any of these genres or ships, please DON'T keep reading, thank you.

Archive of our own / WORK LIST / Awakening Past Masterlist

prev/next

He looked in the mirror to put on his tie. He adjusted the sleeves of his suit and ran his hands to smooth out any creases.

He looked at his reflection, analyzing his figure.

There were times when he felt strange looking at himself. Magazine covers, newspaper headlines, TV news...He appeared in many media and after seeing himself so many times in different places...sometimes he felt strange, wondering if the person who looked back at him was the same person who appeared in front of the public.

He let out a long sigh and someone knocked on the door.

“ Come in”  he answered, turning away from the mirror.

A shock of curly hair peeked out as the door opened and the man smiled as he saw the agent enter.

“ Patrick!”

“ It's been a while, Mr. Graham.” Johnson greeted 

William looked him up and down. 

“ You look good in that suit.” he said proudly.

The agent smoothed his jacket with a smile. He had decided to wear a suit of a more greenish-gray tone, something different from the usual, accompanied by a black shirt.

“ Thank you, sir.” He thanked him for the compliment. The two men turned when they heard a tapping at the door and behind it Hunnigan appeared.

“ Sir, Professor Narsson has arrived.” She raised her brown eyes from the guest list and met Patrick stiffly. “ Is something wrong Patrick?”

The agent was slow to blink, overwhelmed by the image of the agent. It was the first time he'd seen her in clothes that weren't office attire or training tracksuit.

She was wearing a beautiful emerald bare-shouldered jumpsuit, with her hair pulled back in a high ponytail instead of her trademark bun.

The brunet was stunned and the president had to give him a little nudge to get him to react.

“ N-no, no Hunnigan, sorry.” He apologized nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

Graham smiled at the boy's embarrassment, feeling his memories come back to him to when he first met Ashley's mother.

“ You look great, Miss Hunnigan.”  complimented the president to his agent.

Ingrid looked at herself for a moment, gently shaking her pants.

“ I never thought I'd get to wear it, I've gotten used to the suits at work.” she said simply.

The president smiled and put a hand on Patrick's shoulder to walk to the door.

“ I guess I'll have to greet the guests.” He paused, leaving the room. “Has Ashley arrived?”

“ Leon said she's in the dresser room with Maria and her friends.”

William nodded and walked down the stairs with the agents on either side of him. They reached the hallway leading to the party room he had booked and approached some guests, leaving the two agents.

Patrick tapped his foot nervously, glancing sideways every few seconds, causing her to sigh.

“ Are you going to talk at once?” the woman asked, causing him to tense up suddenly.

“ Me?”

Hunnigan looked at him incredulously, then looked both ways and back at him.

“ Is there anyone else beside me?” his tone was mocking.

Patrick sighed, trying to regain his composure and put his thoughts in order.

“ I'm sorry.”  he paused, clearing his throat. “ It's just... I've never seen you in anything but work clothes, so I'm sorry if I've been rude.”  His eyes looked at her like a restless fawn, ashamed of the words he wanted to say. “You look beautiful, Ingrid.”

Hunnigan stood still, feeling her heart give an errant beat.

It took her a few seconds to react, but she finally cleared her throat by adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose. She looked straight ahead and whispered in a much softer tone than usual.

“ Thank you.”

Patrick caught a glimpse of the woman's cheeks subtly reddening. He smiled inwardly. He wasn't going to push his luck, so he said nothing more, accepting Hunnigan's words like honey in his ears, feeling his heart leap with joy in his chest.

"If you really like her, learn about her." Leon's words echoed in his head.

Calmly and patiently. Thanks to the method of observing the small details, he was becoming aware of the pace he had to take.

Small steps that felt like strides when he managed to snatch a small reaction from Ingrid. So stoic and measured... it almost seemed impossible, but Patrick wanted to try, because at that moment, that "Thank you," had been enough to make butterflies flutter in his stomach.

He smiled brightly and turned back to the guests, locating Leon by one of the tables with snacks, off to one side of the hall. He saw that he was accompanied by Narsson and leaned toward Hunnigan.

“ Don't you think Narsson has taken a liking to Leon?”

Ingris followed his companion's gaze to the couple.

“ Maria mentioned something to me, yes.”

“ Should we be worried?”

Hunnigan adjusted a lock of hair behind her ear.

“ Leon may sometimes behave like an idiot, but at the end of the day he's a professional agent.”

*

He glanced at the food displayed on the long side tables and watched the people beginning to arrive. He adjusted his earpiece and made sure the transmitter was working properly.

“ Maria, do you copy?” he said softly, sweeping his eyes over the guests.

“ Loud and clear, Leon”  answered Vazquez confirming that everything was in order.

He stretched his neck and brought his hands behind his back to continue watching.

“ Well, well, Agent Kennedy, I didn't recognize you.”  A soft female voice reached him, causing him to turn to her.

“ Professor Narsson, good to see you.”  he gave her one of his dazzling smiles as she approached him, wearing a stunning red short dress with dropped shoulders. The docent quirked her crimson lips in the same gesture. Leon had to admit that this woman was a beauty and she brought it out in every step.

Narsson looked the young agent up and down.

He was wearing an impeccable smoke-black suit with a soft pumpkin-toned shirt that enhanced his blue eyes, with the collar buttons undone, showing part of his neck and collarbone. 

He was to die for.

“ You look good in that suit.”  the woman smiled at him.

“ Thank you, but I look pale next to you, Professor.”  he complimented her.

Enma sipped gently from her glass and surveyed her surroundings.

“ Not as many people as I expected.”

Leon scanned the room.

“ The president didn't want to make it big, he invited his closest acquaintances and family.”

“ Hmn.”  nodded the woman turning her eyes back to the entrance. “ And Ashley?”

“ She is changing.”

They were both silent for a few seconds until the teacher took the first step.

“ Hey Leon, about dinner...now I have more free time.” she smiled flirtatiously.

Leon looked at her softly with a kind, but no longer mischievous face.

“ I appreciate your offer professor and I'm flattered, but after thinking it over, I don't think it's the best idea and I have to turn it down.”

A soft blues began to play in the background.

“ Well, that's a pity, may I know why that is?”

Leon's gaze was a little harder this time.

“ I think you know why, Professor.”

“ Is it because of Ashley? I'm not her teacher anymore.”

“ You are her mentor and I, along with Maria and Patrick are here to ensure the safety of persons of interest, not to go out to dinner with my protégé's tutor.”  he paused, now more serious. “ As much as I am flattered by your interest in me, believe me, I am not the best choice for a date and even less so if your interest is to know what kind of relationship I have with Ashley.”

It caught her by surprise. Narsson remained static, surprised by the frankness of those words. Leon felt the woman's heart racing and his suspicions were confirmed. Enma let out a sigh with a chuckle.

“ You are very perceptive, Agent Kennedy.” She purred playfully and reached over to gently adjust his shirt collar. “That may have been one of my intentions, but I also wanted to spend an evening with a man as attractive and mysterious as you, Mr. Kennedy.” She gave him a few gentle taps on the lapel of his suit. “ That's a pity." She gave him one last smile and said goodbye, raising her glass, Leon subtly bowing his head in response.

When he saw her approach the president to greet him, his shoulders relaxed.

"  You've had a good start tonight, Kennedy."

“ I don't get paid enough for this.”  growled blue-eyed slyly.

"  I don't get paid enough to put up with you two." Hunnigan sighed in despair, causing the two men to chuckle under their breath.

"  Well, well, who do we have here" another voice that didn't belong to any of his companions sounded over the transmitters and Leon was surprised.

“ Dana?” his eyes scanned the entire room looking for the huge woman - Where are you?

"In reception, I'll come in when all the guests arrive." 

Leon snorted, it already seemed odd to him that a six-foot-four woman would sneak up on him.

“ I hope you don't jump on Ashley this time.”  sneered the man pacing to the back of the room.

“ If she doesn't dodge me I haven't taught her well." laughed the woman thunderously. 

Leon sighed with a smile and looked at the time. It was already past 8, Ashley shouldn't take much longer. He reminisced about the conversation before they left the house.

***

“ Wow.”  Ashley exclaimed upon seeing Leon in the suit and new shirt. The agent adjusted his jacket with a mischievous grin and spun on his heels.

Ashley was surprised to see him wearing something the color of the shirt, considering he usually had a preference for blue or black shades.

“ Is the bodyguard presentable enough for the president's daughter?”

Ashley rolled her eyes with a smile and reached over to him to pull the collar of his shirt, which had been subtly creased, into place. She caught the rich scent of the cologne he always wore and the coconut conditioner he loved so much.

Leon let himself be done, taking a closer look at Ashley's makeup. She had put on silky false eyelashes, subtle, but accentuating her look making her look more feline. Accompanied by smoky shadows that made her amber eyes look like jewels. She had told him she would wear the dress at the hotel with the shoes Casey would bring her.

Her words snapped him out of his mind.

“ What you lose for being a jerk, you gain for being handsome.”  She teased, dusting the dust off his shoulders.

Leon smiled.

“ Really, when you say those things I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted.”

Ashley smiled pressing the man's nose like a button and taking him by surprise.

“ You're a smart boy, you'll find out.”

He laughed softly and watched her put on her shoes and go to get her dress cover.

“ Aren't you going to give me the advantage of being the first to see you in the dress?”

“ Don't be greedy, you'll see it at the hotel.”

Leon pouted.

“ Oh come on princess, you've seen me in the new suit.”

Ashley left the cover with the dress hidden inside, on the couch.

“ It's a surprise.”

He gave a sigh, noticing the name of the clothing brand.

“ Hassidriss?”

Ashley laced up her slippers and stood up with flushed cheeks.

“ "It's... a designer with several collections in addition to Bridal ones.” she paused. “ Yeah yeah, now I'm getting my daughter's share of custom designer dresses.”  she ran her hand over the holster. “ but his Oblivion collection captivated me many years ago and... after the scar, the training, the climbing, I wanted... for the first time... to feel like a princess.”

*

" They're all here." - Hunnigan announced going over the list one last time. Dana nodded and left her post at reception to join the rest of the group.

Music enveloped the place. The agents gathered and then Casey and Emily came in last.

Leon heard soft heels coming down the stairs.

The president, from across the room, smiled, extending his hand.

“ Ashley, the star of the evening.”

Footsteps echoed.

Heads turned.

The agents rotated their eyes to the guest of honor and stood mute, Leon feeling his lungs run out of air.

The long, lacy skirt danced with her steps, a deep indigo blue, with side slits for both legs. It joined the top with an intricate design of the same fabric, with leather and patterns that clung to her strong body, tied at her neck like a halter. The color made her curly blonde hair shine like gold and her eyes like precious stones. 

And then Leon saw the aquamarine stone bracelet on her bicep, shimmering in the reflections of the lights.

With determined stride she walked with a grace and strength that was almost even intimidating, but to him it only sent shocks throughout his body.

"Oh my God" he heard someone whisper.

And then he saw it, when he stopped seeing her profile.

Her back.

The dress left her back to her kidneys in the air, showing the whole scar from edge to edge in its entirety.

Leon swallowed saliva, seeing it whole for the first time, the bullet and knife mark on his shoulders felt small against the axe that had scarred her body.

That was what she had meant by surprise.

To show them all what defined her now, not to hide it in fear of appearing broken, but to show that, even with such a wound, she was standing tall.

His heart raced hopelessly and he caught whispers of surprise, others of horror at the mark. 

He felt overwhelmed and... proud.

He watched her walk in that sapphire dress and leather, head cocked like a queen, a smile plastered on her lips. She took her father's hand and he turned to the guests.

“ Good evening, everyone.” began the president. “ I thank all of you who have come, that you were able to make room in your schedule, even though the date was suddenly changed. Everyone here knows that the one who remembered the dates was my wife.” The relatives laughed at the memory. -But I'm glad you could come to celebrate Ashley's graduation with me.” He turned to her and hugged her around the waist. “ After what we went through two and a half years ago, I feel lucky to be able to see one of her dreams come true.”

“ Now you can officially bring us a dinosaur.” joked one of her cousins.

“ If I find a Dodo I'll put a collar on it and bring it to you, don't worry.”  the blonde replied sardonically, eliciting soft smiles from the rest of them and then she continued.

“ I know it's been a while since I've seen many of you, but I still appreciate that you still feel you are family enough to come to my graduation party. A lot has happened since my illness, but I appreciate you coming to support me and motivate me to pursue my future dreams, thank you.”

The applause sounded warm, making her feel accompanied. She was grateful that her father had kept the guests to people she knew or knew from some time, although among them were friends of relatives she did not know or did not get along with, but it was what it was.

A voice she recognized as her aunt's echoed off to the side.

“ Well, are you going to sing for us at last?”  she smiled at her niece. “ Your father told us you usually sing in your spare time.”

Ashley turned red with shock and turned to her father.

“ Dad?”  she demanded an explanation.

Her father laughed and scratched the back of his head.

“ Maybe I got carried away.”

The guests laughed at the family drama and begged Ashley to sing, even Casey and Sergio knelt in front of her with prayers. She gave them a slap each before finally agreeing. Sergio and John jumped up and down and both ran to the music table, where they plugged in their cell phones. The group of agents looked at the scene with a smile.

“ I didn't think they would be able to convince her.” Maria confessed.

“ Sasha told me she usually sings, doesn't she sing in public?”  Patrick asked. Maria watched Ashley for a few seconds, who went up to a stage next to the sound table, where Sergio started to put the microphone in order.

“ It's... something personal for her. She loves it, don't think she doesn't, but she gets nervous because she expresses herself so much. When she sings, she shows the emotions of the song or the melody, as if she's living it and she's a little embarrassed to show it in public.”

Leon's mind traveled back to the night at the bar, the first time he heard her sing.

How he saw her roar and vibrate to that tune. He understood what Maria meant, it was as if singing was her way of shouting her emotions to the world.

And that was personal, very personal.

"Promise not to laugh?" he remembered her shy words when he himself asked her to sing.

He turned his gaze to the makeshift stage.

“ Sasha also told me she was different when she drank.”  Patrick added.

Maria's laughter caught Leon's attention again.

“ Uff when she drinks. If you're going to make her sing on a day when she's drunk, I recommend having water handy.”

They looked at her in confusion and it was Hunnigan who asked.

“ Do you have to keep an eye on her?”

Maria shook her head with a chuckle.

“ I'm just going to tell you it's a show, you'll see when it happens.”

Leon was puzzled, but thought for a few seconds. 

Now he realized that he had seen her drink, but never get drunk, did she control herself? was she afraid of that part of herself coming to the surface? the doubt that Maria had sown was enough for the demon of curiosity to start scratching at Leon's mind.

He wanted to know what that unknown side of her was. After sharing so many things and that he knew nothing of this supposed savagery....

“ Agents.”

They all turned to the voice and Leon mentally slapped himself for not being more attentive. He had the best hearing and was paying the least attention.

“ Mr. Graham.”  smiled Maria, taking his outstretched hand. “ It's been a long time since I've seen you.

“ Good to see you Maria, how is James?”

“ At home, growling like an old lady, but now that he's allowed to go for walks he's going to the doyo more.”

“ Good to hear it.”  he turned to the rest. “ I see you've caught up with Dana. Have you tried the food?”

“ Sir, we're on duty.” Hunnigan said.

William sighed.

“ As hard as rock Ingrid, I'm not asking you to drink alcohol, just not to starve.”

“ I just have a question about that, Mr. Graham. - Patrick asked seriously.

 "Tell me Agent Johnson," replied the man in the same manner. 

“ Is there an octopus?”

“ As much as you want.”

“ Hunnigan, we have to make sure it's safe to eat them, we don't want anyone to get food poisoning.”

The FOS agent watched the man walk away and looked quickly at the president. He smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

“ I think Agent Johnson is right.”

Hunnigan put the papers aside with an indignant grunt.

“ Excuse me sir for what I'm about to tell you, but you're shameless.”

“ Ashley tells me that too.”  he smiled at her.

The woman strided out after Patrick, who was already noshing through the dishes.

Dana, Maria and Leon laughed helplessly.

“ I have to go to the restroom, excuse me.”  Dana smiled.

“ I'm coming with you, these heels are killing me.” grunted Maria.

The two women withdrew, leaving the president and Leon near the entrance.

“ Okay.” William cleared his throat, turning his attention back to the young agent. “While you're at it, you might as well give me the Weekly Report.”

Leon laughed helplessly and accepted a snack the waiter was handing out.

“ Apart from the incident with Hoffman, nothing special, sir.”

William arched an eyebrow.

“Nothing? Not even on the day of the presentation?”

Leon hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was a good idea to tell him about the dinner, only to realize it would be worse not to. 

“ The week has been quiet, with exams she hasn't had much time, so I've been taking care of the dogs. On Friday we went to a restaurant, which we talked about some time ago, to celebrate his A in the presentation and the rest of the weekend she has spent it sleeping.”

The president watched the agent carefully, watching as he scanned the room with those bright sapphire eyes and lingered a few seconds longer on Ashley's group.

“ You look calmer.” he then said, causing Kennedy to turn to him.

“Why do you say that, sir?”

Graham smiled taking a sip of his champagne.

“ You seem less tense. When you came back from your last field mission in Pittsburgh, you were more upset at the meetings. You tend to look out the windows a lot and watch people more closely.”

Leon couldn't help scratching the back of his head.

“ Wow, I didn't think it was that obvious.”

Graham denied.

“ You're not, I've just learned to be more observant.”

Leon smiled and sighed turning to look straight ahead, watching Ashley's final preparations.

“ I'm not going to lie to you and say I'm looking forward to getting back to the battlefield. I appreciate this calm, even though I'm in charge of Ashley's safety, I feel like I can breathe a little.”

“ I'm glad to hear it. I'm relieved to see that Ashley is in good hands.”

The agent could not contain a chuckle.

“ Honestly sir, these two months I have only been following her wherever she went, she has managed on her own without any help.”

“ I don't know if you mean that for real or just to make me feel more at ease.” laughed the president looking towards the platform as well.

Leon took a few seconds to respond as he felt the blues fade away.

“ I think she is much stronger than you and I think.”

The piano began to resonate in the room. The two men locked their gazes on the small stage. 

"I can hold my breath

I can bite my tongue

I can stay awake for days

If that's what you want

Be your number one"

Although Leon had a more classical repertoire of music, he recognized the song of "Human."

The words came like caresses from her lips, but there was something discernible between the lyrics, the meaning of those verses and her singing them.

It was a melody that required more vocal ability and for now she was demonstrating it in her first chorus.

Sergio and John controlled that the sound was clear, but not too loud, a harmony that was gaining more and more strength, more passion...

More rage.

" 'Cause I'm only human"

He was beginning to see Ashley's hand tighten around the mic tripod.

"I can hold the weight of worlds

If that's what you need"

Tingles began to run through him on the second chorus and his heart began to pump more blood as he watched her frown towards the end of the verse, then enter the crescendo. 

" I'm only human..."

Leon twitched his fingers hearing it go up...and up...and up even more.

"I'm only human..."

" Just a little human!!!"

She ascended to the highest notes, holding them, leaving Leon breathless, holding the air in his lungs, a choked gasp in his mouth and dilated pupils unable to look away.

That roar froze him for the seconds she held the high notes, feeling his body burn, losing track of everything around him.

Only her, exclaiming loudly the words of that melody.

Only her.

And she fell silent.

The piano echoing for a few seconds, still holding her breath.

" I can take so much..."

Her softer voice slurred the words into a statement, a display of her own emotions.

" 'Til I've had enough..."

Leon let out a shaky breath under a watchful gaze at his side, his body still vibrating from the earlier scream.

And she finished breaking.

The last chorus saw her close her eyes, clench her hands and show the expressions of a person tired of being treated like a doll.

In that song she was bringing out the emotions he had been seeing since they had been reunited, but not with that intensity.

He felt his breath hitch, his body resonated with each vibration and the hair on the back of his neck had stood on end.

His pupils began to return to blue as the song ended, watching Ashley gasp after slurring the last few notes into a vibrato. He watched her catch her breath, holding the mic tightly before the applause enveloped her with intensity.

Graham saw his daughter smile and also saw the man next to him accompany the applause. He sensed his tense shoulders slowly relax and the pulse in his neck soften as he calmed down.

He sensed how he tried to take deep breaths, causing his bristling skin to return to normal.

If he hadn't known him, if he hadn't had him on duty those last two years, he wouldn't have sensed anything in his stoic figure.

He wouldn't have seen how he'd held his breath in a choked gasp when Ashley had gone up to the max, nor how his eyes had opened unblinkingly, as if he'd been possessed without being able to look away or catch his breath.

A genuine reaction.

And Graham could only smile into his glass, watching as Ashley turned his golden eyes back to the two of them, a dazzling smile on her lips. The president raised his glass to let her know she had been seen and Leon smiled, tilting his head subtly, but just enough for her to know he had been watching.

Ashley felt all those stares and her face turned red with embarrassment. Bowing she stepped down from the stage to go and hug Sergio and John tightly. Soon after Casey and Emily joined in, proud of their friend.

Leon sensed soft footsteps approaching from the side and turned to see a woman approaching them.

“ Good evening, gentlemen.”

The two men turned to see the caramel-eyed woman, the spitting image of Emily.

Catherine Connors.

“ Dr. Connors. - smiled the president, holding out his hand, which she took.”

“ It's been a long time since we've seen each other, Mr. Graham.” The woman turned to the agent and extended her hand. “ And you must be Leon Kennedy.”

The blue-eyed man accepted the greeting with a smirk.

“ I seem to be on a lot of people's tongues.”

Catherine smiled.

“ Ashley and Emily have told me about you.”

“ Good things, I hope.” he smiled.

“ Well, when it comes to your attractiveness she doesn't seem to have exaggerated.”

Leon arched an eyebrow.

“Who said that?”

Catherine touched her chin thoughtfully.

“ Mmm, I wonder who it was, I don't remember.”

Bullshit. She knew, she knew perfectly well who had told her, but she didn't want to tell Leon. The agent gave a lopsided smile.

“ Well, I'm happy to be pleasing to the eye at least.”

Both Catherine and Graham laughed.

“ I hope those laughs aren't a product of my "acting".” a soft voice made the three of them turn to find bright Jaguar eyes staring back at them.

Leon then noticed that she was just as tall as he was and couldn't help but subtly slide his eyes down her figure to her feet, where he could make out some nice open square heels. He smiled inwardly thinking of Casey and her resilience to making Ashley wear heels.

The blonde caught the man's gaze and cleared her throat so that only he heard her amidst her father and Catherine's conversation.

Leon raised his eyes and the shadow of a lopsided smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“ How have you been handling the week of exams?”  Catherine asked, worrying about her patient, with whom she hadn't had a session in a long time. 

“ Quite well, sometimes I have trouble sleeping, but Leon taught me a recipe to help me sleep better and it worked well.”  smiled the blonde, making her psychologist turn to the man she had named.

“ Wow, a magic recipe?”

“ It's just a home remedy from my aunt, doctor.” laughed the agent. “I was a pain in the ass to sleep when I was a kid.”

“ I never would have guessed you'd be one of the difficult kind. “joked Graham with a smile. “You're always so serious I find it hard to believe.”

“ It’ just with you then...” mused Ashley in her drink with a smirk, words that only Leon heard.

“ I'm glad you don't need the meds, you haven't taken them for a long time so it's good that your body is learning to function without them.”

Leon could sense Ashley's glass waver for a second, remembering the night he found her in the bathroom vomiting. The agent watched her with some concern and saw her smile at the doctor and her father.

“ I'm doing much better, yes.”

Catherine smiled happily and excused herself to go with Emily to the back of the room.

Graham smiled at his daughter and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“ Well, maybe we should say hello to the family.”

“Are Josh's friends here?” Ashley arched her eyebrows and William sighed.

“ I'm afraid so.”

She grunted and rounded on her father in the same way.

“ Just a hello, nothing more.”

“ Don't punch them.” Leon joked.

“ No promises.”

Graham laughed taking his daughter away after saying goodbye. Ashley looked at Leon one last time with a silent cry for help and the agent could only let out a chuckle as he watched them walk away.

His blue eyes were riveted on the scar again, on her strong back that rippled gracefully and he couldn't help but, for a second, go back to the room where he stitched the wound and got his hands full of blood to prevent her death.

How much had happened.

And look where they were now.

That's what they were.

Survivors.

The evening went on calmly. Dana, Maria, Patrick, Hunnigan and he paced the room from time to time, only to return to the entrance area. Two at the door and the other two on either side of the adjacent walls. From there they watched the central area and the background.

All was quiet, the music was playing calmly and people were eating and drinking while chatting.

At some point Ashley broke away from her father to talk to other family and friends, although Leon could sense that with some of the latter, she didn't feel very comfortable.

And yet she was smiling.

Maria also had an eye on her, noticing how some people turned to glance at her scar and whisper among themselves.

"Hey Leon," he heard the woman's voice in the earpiece.

“ Yes?”

" Are you allowed to hit idiots? because I'm running out of patience."

The agent saw a young guest get quite close to Ashley and understood why Maria was so anxious.

“ Don't you think we should be worried about the guy?” smiled the agent, but a slight tug on his neck caused him to change his mind as one of the group slipped his arm around Ashley's shoulders. He saw the muscles in her back tense, but she didn't move. He saw her turn her head toward the man and lean in to say something in his ear. With the music, the commotion and the distance they were, Leon couldn't make anything out, but he didn't need to when he saw the man gently pull his arm away from her.

" You may be right."  laughed Maria through the earpiece.

After watching his protégé for a few more seconds, Leon smiled and then looked around the room.

There were faces that rang a bell, others not so much. He analyzed each and every one of them and so time passed as the tables emptied and the champagne and wine was consumed among the diners.

At some point the lights came into focus at the back of the hall, where there was more space, and some people decided to start dancing to the soft waltz.

The president held out his hand to his daughter with a smile and she agreed somewhat embarrassed. She placed her hands in the correct positions and danced with her father.

Leon was surprised to see her dance and guessed that because of her father's position, she would have had to learn to dance at some point to attend social events.

He saw her smile in the president's arms, embracing him with fervor and love just as he did. Leon couldn't help but smile and watch them among the other couples until the music ended and another song began to play. Other couples entered the dance floor and Ashley stepped out to make way. She blew a kiss to her father and moved away to one of the tables to get a glass of water.

She let out a sigh as the cold liquid passed down her throat. She inhaled deeply and grunted inwardly when she caught a familiar scent. She went to walk away but an arm crossed her path.

“ Ashley, long time no see.”

She locked her eyes on the man's brown ones.

“ Peter.” she replied with a fake smile.

“ Josh told me last minute about the party, congratulations on graduation.”

“ Thank you.”

The man stared at her and as she took another drink he slid his eyes all over Ashley's figure thinking she wouldn't notice.

She had to be BLIND to miss him.

She cleared her throat to bring his eyes up and set the glass down on the table.

“ I'm glad to see you're okay, we'll talk later.”  she patted his shoulder gently to get past him, but he put his arm around her waist. She tensed her muscles and restrained her instinct to lift him off the floor and knock him out, twitching her fingers as the broad hand came to rest on her lower back to turn her toward him.

“ Come on, aren't you going to give me a dance, last time you told me that next time?” His face moved closer to her, whispering in a deeper tone and Ashley wrinkled her nose as she caught the scent of vodka and... sex on his breath.

“ I'm flattered that you want to dance with me, but I don't feel like it right now.” She placed her hands against his shoulders, pushing him gently, but he reasserted his pressure on her waist.

Ashley frowned and caught Hunnigan's movement out of the corner of her eye. She looked up and saw Leon staring at them, taking the first step toward them.

“ Peter, I told you I don't want to.” Her voice was deeper. She didn't want to make a scene. She looked over the man's shoulder at Leon, who was already approaching them with clenched fists and a tense jaw. She turned to Hunnigan closer.

“ Oh come on, don't be hardass.”  he purred droolingly at her.

He stopped the two agents by raising his hand. The two saw him raise his arm, placing his palm on the man's bicep and a second later the man's face went pale.

“ One, you are no one here to call me hardass or push me if I don't want to, and two," she said threateningly to the man's ear. “you'll wish you'd stayed between the legs of the waiter you were doing overtime for.”

The man looked at her in terror, as if he had just seen a monster capable of reading his mind. She let go of him and he quickly turned away, his breath hitching and his face embarrassed.

Ashley sighed and Hunnigan reached for her.

“ Are you all right?” she asked worriedly.

“ Yes," she smiled at her. She rolled her amber eyes to the other side where she saw Leon pinned to the spot, but still watching her. He frowned in silent question for her well-being. She smiled and twitched her lips in a " I'm fine, don’t worry." She watched Leon's shoulders relax and his fists unclench then return to his post near the wall.

Ashley sighed through the headache that man's breath had caused her. The smell of pheromones was making her head spin and right now she needed something to clear her head.

She turned to Hunnigan. In that area of the hall the lights were barely reaching, leaving the agents in the gloom, watching like hunters. The pain in her head didn't let her think much and before Hunnigan could react, she grabbed her hand causing her to look at her puzzled.

“ May I have this dance, Agent Hunnigan?” laughed Graham with a chuckle.

Ingrid stood still for a moment and then laughed softly and put her hand on her shoulder.

“ Of course, Miss Graham.” Her tone was teasing, remembering how little she liked to be called that.

Leon and the rest of the agents smiled as they watched them dance in the free space they had in the penumbra, away from the people chatting in the background.

The two danced in laughter, quite well synchronized to Leon's surprise.

" I didn't know Hunnigan danced."  Maria surprised Leon with a giggle from the earpiece. 

“ You never know when you're going to need to infiltrate a party, so it's a good thing to know.” Kennedy acknowledged.

" I wasn't taught any of that" Patrick was surprised.

Leon looked at his partner on one side of the door and smiled inwardly.

“ I taught her.”

Patrick's face turned to him in the distance, his eyes white and his mouth open in a silent scream.

" What?"  was all he could say through the earpiece.

“ Leon you promised not to tell anyone!”  Hunnigan exclaimed turning with Ashley, who was just laughing listening to the conversation in the earpiece.

Leon covered his lips with an " Oops," but his smile gave away that he had done it on purpose.

Ashley held out her hand for Hunnigan to turn and gave her a theatrical bow and then walked over to Dana, who took her hand and spun her around on her heels. Graham laughed and did a few spins now with her, slightly more difficult because of the height difference, but she had fun just the same.

" I'll save this one for you Kennedy." Ingrid growled at him from the earpiece.

“ What a mess you've made.” Dana said to Ashley who let out a giggle.

“ You all looked bored.”

Dana gave her another twist and the blonde let go to deftly grab Patrick. The man became flustered.

“ Ashley I-I... I... I don't know how to dance.” He said embarrassed but she smiled at him. 

“ It's okay, I'll teach you.”

Leon arched his eyebrow at the little emphasis and looked at her carefully. He watched as she took Patrick's hand to put it on her waist and grabbed his other hand and then placed the missing one on his shoulder.

“ Listen to the rhythm, let's start with your right foot, short steps, don't rush”  they took the first step and stopped “now you pick up your leg and then extend it to the opposite side, as if you were swinging.”

Patrick followed her instructions and proved to be a quick learner. Soon they were moving in small circles, him watching not to step on her and making Ashley laugh. She dedicated the entire song to Patrick wanting him to feel at ease. They had been there since eight o'clock and it was almost midnight, they had to be tired.

Patrick took a little initiative and grabbed Ashley by one hand to spin her around before approaching her again with an overcoming smile. Graham smiled and leaned closer to the man's ear.

“ You could ask Hunnigan to practice to perfect your infiltration missions.” she whispered to him.

She turned her face away from him and Patrick gave her a puzzled look and then smiled nervously and nodded a thank you.

They both bowed and Ashley passed to Maria, who hugged her tightly and they began to spin energetically. With Vazquez she stumbled more, but they giggled like little girls spinning on themselves like spinning tops.

Casey nudged Sergio and the two of them looked in the direction of the dimly lit area, where they saw all the agents dancing with Ashley. Emily joined her two friends and the three of them sneaked over to the sound board where John was still playing tunes.

Ashley parted from Maria with a theatrical princess bow and her eyes locked on the blue ones of the remaining agent. Leon tensed and couldn't help but swallow saliva. He watched her approach him and hold out her hands with a smile.

“ Oh, no, no, I'm fine Ashley.” he tried to reject her proposal.

“ Come on Kennedy, you're not going to be the only one who's going to turn her down, are you?” scoffed Patrick. The agent looked at his partner and then back at Ashley who was watching him with purposeful doe eyes.

“ Ah no, don't give me that face.” he warned.

Ashley shrugged her shoulders with false shyness.

“Please?”

Leon opened his mouth to retort.

“ You didn't lie about teaching Hunnigan, did you?”  Maria laughed.

Leon glared at her, turning his eyes between Ashley and the rest of the agents who were egging him on, oblivious to the eyes of the president who had been watching for so long. Leon, in his tug of war, rotated his eyes and met William's expression, who simply gave him a smile. Kennedy looked surprised and ended up sighing in defeat.

“ Until this song ends, okay?”

The smile Ashley gave him was dazzling, so much so that if she asked him to dance to two more songs he wouldn't be able to refuse. He sighed inwardly.

He didn't know if the influence she had on him was a good sign, but seeing her smile like that only made him follow her without resistance.

“ Don't be hard on her.”  Dana laughed, turning to Kennedy.

“ You're exaggerating.” Patrick said in disbelief, but Leon gave him an amused laugh and they watched him undo one more button on his shirt and take off his earpiece to stretch his neck. He took Ashley's hand decisively and walked with her a little more to the center and then brought their bodies closer together.

His broad hand rested on her waist gently and she intertwined her hand and leaned on his shoulder facing him.

“ I'm not going to be as gentle, are you going to be able to handle those heels?” the agent teased, looking down. Ashley glanced down at her footwear.

“ I'll be fine, Agent Kennedy.”  she said slyly.

He responded with a deeper look and a lopsided smile.

“Is His Majesty going to be able to keep up with me?”

Ashley was surprised for a second, feeling her heart racing with excitement. Her eyes darkened and her voice deepened to a whisper.

“ I have more stamina than you think.”

Leon couldn't contain an excited smile and went to take the first step when the music stopped. They both arched their eyebrows, aware that the song wasn't over and their eyes turned to the soundboard. Sergio and Casey smiled at them and Ashley could feel an imperceptible squeeze on her hand.

“Are you afraid?”  she teased.

Leon looked at her dullly.

“ You wish.”

A deep sound enveloped the place as the music began.

A bell rang out.

Leon and Ashley listened carefully trying to identify the notes and he was quicker.

"Didn't you put this piece in the car on the way over?

Ashley smiled and nodded recognizing "Snow waltz" by Lindsey Stirling.

“ They seem to want to give us a hard time.” she laughed.

They both looked at the group of friends.

“ You're just in time to stop.”  he purred.

Oh, how he incited her every time he spoke to her that way, it made her annoyed.

“ Take it as payback.”

They both smiled.

The melody of the violin accompanied the wind and they both waited in time.

Their bodies tense and holding their breath, even if they didn't want to show it.

The violin's note lengthened.

A second of silence.

And they began to dance.

They began calmly, although their steps were determined and energetic. They covered the entire dance area, twisting and turning in a synchronized waltz, as if they had practiced a thousand times.

They were in tune.

Their steps were more complex, stopping at parts of the song where the violin picked up steam and then resuming the fluid movement.

Leon was leading her, but he could sense that Ashley wanted to lead him as well.

The man smiled, listening to the music build to the next, more intense part.

“ You're taking this very seriously.” he whispered to her and she responded to the gesture by giving his hand a squeeze.

“ I was just warming up.”

Leon laughed in excitement and his hand tightened its grip on her waist making her sigh, making her feel his warm palm against her bare lower back.

“ Let's start the "fight" then, shall we?”

Their gazes darkened with intensity and Ashley clung tighter to Leon's shoulders.

The music rose. Their steps became loose, intense and passionate. Perfectly synchronized, unable to take their eyes off each other.

They parted at the pizzicato of the violin, interlacing their fingers with the other hand behind their backs. They spun without blinking, turning on their heels and holding each other's waist to change the direction of the circle.

Their breathing was ragged.

But they were both smiling with excitement.

They separated once more and brought their bodies together again, unaware of how they clung to each other.  Leon wrapped his whole arm around her lower back and she wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders.

Their gasps intertwined in the same rhythm.

Steps like water, feeling each other's sway to follow with their own bodies.

They seemed one.

The agents watched in rapt attention, unable to tear their eyes away from the two gifted dancers.

Their minds seemed to think alike, stepping in the right place with their hips glued together but not getting in each other's way.

Leon looked up at her before the next refrain and smiled sensually.

“ Up.”  he whispered huskily.

Ashley felt his broad hands on her waist and rested hers on his strong shoulders just before he lifted her into the air. She stifled a giggle smiling hugely under Leon's bright gaze. She twirled twice in the air and came down clinging to him with a soft laugh that he accompanied.

They gave their all on the last part of the piece, feeling the sweat sliding on their skin, but they didn't seem to mind.

Quite the opposite.

It excited them.

So close. Their scents intertwined, their hot breaths filling each other's space, feeling the burn of their skins and the fire in their eyes.

They looked like two predators in a fight.

They didn't want to separate, they wanted time to stop, the song not to end. To be able to feel that intimacy between them, the comforting presence of the other...

But everything had to end.

They stretched out their arms in a final twist and were locked in place.

They looked at each other panting and sweating. They watched each other's ragged breathing, as their chests rose and fell wildly.

But they smiled at each other with sparks in their eyes.

Leon let go of her hand feeling it suddenly cold and bowed gallantly for Ashley to respond in kind.

A chorus of applause followed and they both turned in surprise.

Several of the group of guests had turned to watch them dance and cheered enthusiastically.

Ashley turned red, burying her face in her hands and Leon laughed putting his earpiece back on and extending his hand to his dance partner.

She took a second to take it and the two greeted their audience theatrically.

They raised their heads and looked at each other one last time before Leon decided to return to the group of agents still holding his breath.

“ Is there anything you can't do?” Patrick grunted, rolling his eyes.

“ When I find out I'll tell you.” he teased winking at him and causing Johnson to punch him in the shoulder with a laugh.

They saw Ashley return with a pitcher of water and glasses.

“ That was amazing.” smiled Maria praising the two of them. “You guys sure rehearsed it.”

Leon and Ashley looked at each other with a shy smile and shook their heads at the same time.

They still felt each other's warmth in their bodies, especially Ashley. She felt tingling at the base of her back, the sensitivity of her skin heightened because of her scar.

She had never been held like that, not after returning from Spain. The scar on her back was her most sensitive part and she could feel things more clearly.

Feeling Leon's hand holding her as if he wanted to melt with her....

She still felt her head above the clouds and Leon's scent had intoxicated her.

Sin was what she had inhaled from his skin. The mixture of the cologne and salty sweat that accentuated his natural scent....

Her pulse was still racing and her smelling sense was having a party at that very moment, coupled with the earlier headache.

So she subtly dipped her nose into the water to dampen the fireworks in her brain.

Leon watched her, listening with overwhelming clarity to the woman's unbridled heartbeat.

He sipped gently, losing himself in thought for a moment.

The sound of those gasps echoed in his head like a mantra.

He had perceived sounds in her that he would never have heard otherwise.

Tiny chuckles of excitement choked in her throat that she wasn't even aware she was making. Violent exhalations at the changes of movement he had made her make.

The rumbling of her heart against his chest.

During the dance there was a second when he had stopped hearing the music.

An instant that seemed like an eternity.

When he heard a soft moan, one that he thought she hadn't even realized, because he heard it in her throat. In the instant when he had clutched her the tightest wanting to feel her figure against his body.

A moment when his mind had gone back to the day he drank with Patrick and had to take a cold shower because he was unable to stop imagining a naked figure beneath him, moaning his name like a mantra.

That tiny sound had been enough to make him remember that.

And he wasn't understanding why.

He lifted his blue eyes to hers and watched her take a deep breath, perceiving a subtle dilation in her amber eyes. He arched a concerned eyebrow and approached her asking for more water.

“Are you all right?”

She looked at him without understanding and Leon asked the others for a moment, pulling her away from the group to be able to talk more calmly.

“ There's nothing wrong with me, Leon," she said confused.

“ Are you sure? are you still nervous about that man? are you sure you're all right?”

Oh, yeah...the pheromones she smelled on Peter's breath.

Ashley sighed.

“ It'll wear off in a while. His breath reeked of vodka and pheromones.”

“What?”

“ You know... I told you about pheromones, they make my head spin.” she drank and patted him on the shoulder. “Relax, you're wearing enough cologne so I can't perceive anything more than that.”  she teased him, exaggerating.

Leon's ears blushed at the blunt statement.

“ Did it bother you? Maybe you're right and I've overdone it?”

“ Hey”  she caught his attention. “ I'm kidding, your cologne is fine and dancing with you guys has helped me, so don't worry.”

She gave him a wide smile and Leon lost trying to hold back a chuckle.

They both laughed, but a shiver ran down Ashley's spine causing her to turn to the guests and meet her father's withering gaze at Narsson's side.

Oh, no.

*

“ I would recommend you to see the replicas that Ashley has made, the archaeology professor wants to keep them for the natural exhibition of the Faculty.”  smiled the professor.

Graham looked surprised.

“ Wow, Ashley told me she would be sorry when she had to throw them away, I'm glad they've found a new use for them.”

“ Yes, they are very good copies, especially the last two pieces we got from Australia.”

The president took a swig of his champagne.

“ Ashley hasn't had much time to tell me about the last trip.”

Narsson was thrilled at the memory of that little adventure.

“ It's a good thing she came with me, without her we would have had trouble finding the caves.”

“ Didn't you go with guides?”

“ Yes, two half Koori guided us along with the spelunkers, but there was a landslide. One of them was knocked unconscious and the other got stuck on the other side of the route with the three cavers.”

Graham tensed.

“ Ashley hadn't told me about that.”

“ It wasn't serious, but she was the only one who went through the caves saying she'd find another way out. Two hours later she showed up with the nearest Koori tribe opening a hole in the entrance.” she let out a chuckle. “I don't know how she managed to communicate with them, but they got us out of there in one piece. Besides, when trying to find another way out, it was Ashley who found those two fangs next to the skull of a marsupial lion.”

The president took a breath, remembering that his daughter had mentioned to him about the specimen they had managed to find there.

But no accidents or landslides.

“ I'm glad to hear it was an uneventful adventure.”  the man finally calmed down.

“ Yes, I have to admit she has instincts I've never seen before. She even caught the attention of one of the cavers who accompanied us.”

“ Did she?” he seemed curious.

Narsson nodded enthusiastically for her student.

“ Yes! He told her that if she had any projects for when she graduated he would be happy to be part of the group. She was very happy and told him about her future expedition to Spain.”

This time William really froze.

“ Sorry, did you say Spain?”

Emma nodded.

“ She's been planning an expedition to northern Spain for some time now. She's been looking for interested people, but it's difficult when you're new to the industry, so she hasn't had much luck until that man in Australia.”

The president frowned.

“ And has she told you what she wanted to do in Spain? Are there research centers she's interested in?”

“ Oh no, she doesn't want to go to the lab. She told me there are some underexplored mines she'd like to investigate, so she's training and looking for other people, but she hasn't told me more.” She fell silent when she saw the president's darkened expression. “Mr. Graham?”

The man did not answer. 

He turned his head to the back of the room and saw Ashley talking to Leon.

What was she hiding from him, what did it mean, an expedition to Spain? was this a joke?

He saw his daughter smile and a second later shrink back to roll her eyes in his direction.

Their gazes met and in her expression, he could see anguish.

And that only happened if she was really hiding something.

His body moved on its own and with long strides, he walked towards his daughter.

She owed him an explanation.

Here and now.

Ashley saw her father looming over her and sensed Leon at her side watching her. The woman's heart thumped violently in her chest and the agent noticed.

“ Ash-”

“ Ashley Graham.” her father's deep voice cut the agent violently. He didn't raise his voice, only they and the group of agents right next to him heard him.

“ Is something wrong, Dad?” her voice was confused, trying to sound innocent, but Leon knew something was wrong, because her pulse only quickened.

Narsson hurried toward the group anxious that she had said the wrong thing, oblivious to the storm.

“ Is it true about the expedition to Spain?”

Leon was stunned when he heard Ashley's heart stumble and then race faster.

Wait a minute. What? What was that about Spain? he looked at her questioningly, but she just stared at her father, whose icy stare radiated fury.

Ashley looked at Narsson and the teacher looked distressed.

“ I don't... I don't know what I said wrong, I told him that you met an Australian speleologist interested in your trip to Spain and... and” the hand Ashley raised silenced her.

“ Relax Emma, it's not your fault.” her golden eyes looked straight at her father. “What do you want to know?”

The man's jaw dropped in thought.

“ What do I wa– what does that mean? a raid on some mines in Spain?”

Ashley raised her head seriously.

“ That's right, I'm looking for a group for an expedition there.”

“Are you kidding me?”

The agents approached cautiously.

“Sir," Maria whispered softly. “Is something wrong?”

The man turned to her.

“ Vazquez, did you know about this nonsense about going to some caves in Spain?”

Maria looked confused as she glanced at Ashley for a moment.

“ No sir, but I don't see what the problem is.”

Graham grunted, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Problem? EVERYTHING is the problem.” He turned to his daughter. “What did you lose in there?”

“ It's research dad, that's what I studied for, to discover, to find and uncover new things.”

“And what the FUCK do you think you'll find there?”

In all the time they had known the president they had never heard him curse.

The agents were perplexed and Narsson blanched at the man's gravelly voice.

But Ashley held his gaze.

“ Answers hopefully.”

“ What answers can a place like that give you?”

“ Ones I can't get sitting in front of a computer, dressed in a white coat and protected within four walls as you'd like.”

Leon swallowed at the audacity of those words and saw William frown even more, already oblivious to the agents and Narsson at his side.

“Are you challenging me, Ashley?”  his voice almost a growl.

“Is it challenging you to want to work on what I've studied?”

“ Ashley, don't provoke me.”  he warned her.

“ I don't want to provoke you, I'm just telling you what I'm going to do.”

A dark laugh emerged from the president, something none of them had ever heard before.

Leon saw that same dark tinge that Ashley gave Hoffman. And it was frightening.

“ You're not going to Spain.”

Ashley froze. Her eyes widened in surprise and her pupils shrank. Leon felt her hands twitch.

“ Are you going to lock me up?”

“ Yes, if it'll talk some sense into you, yes.”

The two stood silently staring at each other impassively, but the muscles about to snap in their necks betrayed the tension in their bodies.

They said nothing for long seconds and the agents felt they could cut the tension between them with a knife. They didn't know what to say or do.

Then Ashley sighed.

“ I see.”

She stepped aside and walked toward the guests. Most of them had already left, those who remained were mostly family and close friends. She smiled at them all.

“ I have to leave.” She announced to them, starting to hand out goodbye hugs. - I'm exhausted from the exams. 

They understood her and gave her kisses and hugs. Promising to see each other at Christmas or on a birthday.

William and the agents looked at her and when she finished she turned back to them.

“ Ashley.”  her father called out to her, but she didn't respond causing him to grab her arm. “Ashley, we're not done talking.”

The last thing he expected was for her to violently grab his wrist and glare at him.

“I AM done talking to you.”

She broke free of his grip and went upstairs to pick up her backpack on the dresser. William gave her a puzzled look, both on the way up and on the way down.

She didn't look at him.

She didn't say another word to him.

She slung her backpack over her shoulder and nodded her head.

“ Let's go Leon.”

The agent held his breath and hesitated for a moment, looking at his colleagues and the president. He said goodbye with an apology and with a long stride reached Ashley.

The president saw his daughter open the entrance door and disappear behind it.

*

She changed her heels for driving shoes and opened the trunk door.

“ Hey Ash.” the agent's voice came to her questioningly.

“ Not now Leon.”

“ But”

She slammed the door shut.

“ NOT.NOW.”

Her eyes twinkled in the parking lot light and Leon fell silent, climbing into the passenger seat in silence. Ashley gathered up her long skirt and climbed in. The agent watched as she arranged the dress on the seat.

“ If you want I can drive.” he said, trying to defuse the tension.

“ Thanks, but I need to drive.” she said with restrained fury. She could yell at him, respond in a bad way for the scene with her father, but she didn't, she didn't take it out on him.

The drive was silent and for Leon it was taking forever.

He wanted to ask her everything.

What was that about Spain? did she mean the mines where they were? or was it another area? had the president gone too far? why were Hunnigan and Maria so nervous?

He had a headache.

He didn't understand anything and the only person who could give him answers was standing next to him and refused to talk.

Was she trying his patience?

“ Don't you think you've been a little hard on your father?”

“ Even if you're good and feed him, is the dog that barks at you bad for keeping him chained up?”

Leon looked at her puzzled, was she really going to start with metaphors?

“ Ash, don't compare it to a dog.”

She twitched her fingers.

“ Well, that's how I feel.”

They both fell silent. He kept looking at her questioningly, trying to get something out of the conversation, but every time he tried to bring it up she told him no, to wait.

And he HATED to wait.

She pulled into the garage, slammed on the brakes and turned the car off. She grabbed the backpack from the trunk and headed for the elevator.

“ Can you explain something to me, please?”

The doors closed.

“ Can't you wait until you get home?” she growled.

Leon mumbled and waited to go up to his floors.

It was exaggerated how long it felt like.

Ashley pulled out her keys and unlocked her apartment. The dogs came to say hello, but none of them paid them any attention.

She threw the backpack on the couch.

“ Ashley, I'm starting to get angry.”  Leon warned.

She turned to him.

“ Oh, yeah? You're going to scold me like a child, too?”

“ I'd like you to explain to me what's going on.”

“ It's what you heard Leon, I want to make an expedition to the mines in the north of Spain.”

“By "the mines" you mean those mines?”

“What other mines can I know there?”

Leon looked at her puzzled.

“ And are you surprised that your father is angry?”

“ I wasn't going to tell him yet.”

“ And me?”  his look seemed offended. “Were you planning to tell me?”

“ Just like you told me you'd been sent back to Spain?”

Oh, that had been a low blow. Leon closed his eyes.

“ I don't have to tell you everywhere I go.”  he hissed.

“ And just disappear? We almost died over there Leon, can't I worry about my fucking friend?!”

Kennedy clenched his fist.

“That's why I didn't want to tell you! it would just kill you with anxiety! Besides, I already said it in Victor's office, I was just being a simple recon guide.”

No. Stop it. No more. she can't take it anymore. More than a year and a half. She looked the man in the eyes and could not take it anymore. Because she knew it was a LIE.

“You call being trapped underground with a broken leg, a dislocated shoulder, several fractured ribs, no food or water, a broken radio and cuts and bruises all over your body simple?”

“ It was an acc-” he opened his eyes with a start. -”How do you know that?”

Ashley's shoulders slumped in defeat.

“ You had a high fever, you were delirious, your body was full of blood with infected wounds and you only had one bullet left that you kept.” she whispered in a trembling voice.

Leon's lower lip vibrated nervously.

“ Ashley, how the fuck do you know that?”

The woman's expression changed, becoming anguished and hurt.

“ Because I saw you.”  her voice trembled.

A nervous laugh escaped the agent's lips.

“ Ashley, stop messing with me. I don't know how, but Chris got me out of there. Even your father didn't know about my rescue until I came home.”

Ashley looked at him and her head shook softly.

“ No Leon.”  She turned and walked back to her room, heard a cupboard open and came back to him holding out a garment.

Leon was stunned.

His jacket.

The one Chris had told him he'd lost.

He looked at the leather fabric, clean, but with tears and scuffs caused by friction against the rocks.

He raised his sapphire gaze in bewilderment, not understanding anything.

“ How do you have…”“ It wasn't Chris who went to find you the collapsed mines Leon. It was me.”

[unprocione]

➤  * 𝗘𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗘 ( @emile8 ) 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑎 𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑎 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑡  ❝ 𝗛𝗢𝗠𝗘. ❞

✦  WHAT MAKES A HOME? A home is a place of refuge. A person’s most personal belongings are kept in a home, and it’s where a person feels safe and accepted. A home tells a story and expresses a person or family’s interests. To create a home requires an emotional connection and sense of belonging, not physical things. A house can be a home but a home can’t be a house. You can live in a house that doesn’t feel like a home. Or you can find “home” in a house that isn’t yours because home isn’t a physical construct, it’s a feeling. To be a home, it needs to feel comfortable, like a place you belong to and are at peace with. A house may be decorated with the nicest furnishings money can buy, but that won’t necessarily make it a home. The feeling of “home” can’t be bought. It’s an intimate relationship we have with the personal space we live in. A home reflects who we are, our personality, and how we choose to live our lives.

* while i know the above pictures from resident evil: damnation are likely of a hotel room, based on the construction & context, i'm choosing to think of this as leon's bedroom on purpose for personal characterization.

✦  WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO LIVE IN A ❝ SPARTAN ❞ LIFESTYLE? A spartan lifestyle or existence is very simple or strict, with the minimum of luxuries. Living a spartan lifestyle means embracing simplicity and self-discipline, and focusing on developing physical and mental strength, buying and using only what is needed to accomplish your task. No spare rooms, no extra cars, no fancy meals, no desserts, no frills. Additionally, it is important to remember that living a Spartan lifestyle does not mean living a life of poverty or deprivation, but rather one of simplicity and self-discipline. The lifestyle is very basic because all efforts are devoted to the military and to the state.

Simplify your possessions and living space. Get rid of anything you don't truly need and focus on keeping only the essentials.

Embrace physical fitness and challenge yourself to push your limits through regular exercise and training.

Practice self-discipline and self-control by setting rules and boundaries for yourself, and holding yourself accountable to them.

✦  WHAT DOES MINIMALISM SAY ABOUT YOU? A minimalist person is someone who has a simple, uncluttered lifestyle, someone who seeks simplicity, usefulness and clarity. They don't believe in owning things for the sake of owning things — they only keep what is truly important to them. Minimalists are often very organized and efficient and find satisfaction in pursuing meaningful relationships and activities. They pursue a lifestyle that focuses less on material possessions and more on what they value in life – what makes them happy.

✦  PERSONAL TOUCHES.

* framed photographs of dear friends & loved ones. pictured: claire redfield, ada wong, patrick devlin, ashley graham, helena harper. not pictured: jack krauser (frame is facedown), manuela hidalgo, sherry birkin, ingrid hunnigan, & luis sera.

* an unknown monstera, a pilea peperomioides, and a peace lily.

✦  PLACES OF INTEREST.

* weaponry workbench, vinyl record player, kitchen w/ cookbook storage, bedroom barcart, leon's weapons locker, & external home gym.

✦  HEADCANONS.

leon resides on a private and rural property in maryland, a good distance away from the city.

leon's residence is more house than home, more of a place to sleep than a place to rest. he's more at home in a familiar chain hotel than anywhere else, preferring to vacation over spending time in his empty house.

leon's absolutely pathetic at home maintenance, preferring to call in plumbers or electricians as needed, but he's also an absolute clean freak, the place is spotless, like scrubbing tile grout with a toothbrush on his hands and knees spotless.

prior to the disassembly of the anti-umbrella pursuit & investigation taskforce, leon & bruce mcgivern were bunkmates, both living in a barracks building provided by the organization.

leon prefers to live remotely, having become somewhat of a recluse, his home sheltered away from main roads & prying eyes by acres of forest.

leon has two locks on his bedroom door, and doesn't sleep with a sound machine, both in case of any scenarios involving possible intruders. the glass in his windows is also bulletproof, for the same rightfully paranoid reasoning.

leon doesn't get delivery. he doesn't get takeout. he doesn't do fast food at all whenever he has other options. leon grew up in a home where more often than not they had fast food for dinner as both parents worked and it was cheap and easy, and now that he has a home of his own, he prefers to cook for himself at every chance, mealpreps, and experiment with recipes when he has time. his tupperware collection is impressive. he would probably marry his air fryer if he could legally. leon kennedy, disgusted by a cheap hamburger to the point of nausea, but says he could really go for a steak right now when confronted with a rotten bovine carcass.

leon's first houseplant was his monstera, purchased after the events of resident evil: damnation, which he keeps by his bedside window. leon's second houseplant was his pilea peperomioides, purchased after the events of resident evil: six. leon's most recent houseplant is his peace lily, purchased after resident evil: vendetta. leon keeps all three of his plants in his bedroom.

the interior of leon's home is sparsely decorated, with very few personal touches, such as the vinyl record player, his plants, cookbooks, and photographs of his loved ones.

leon has a collection of cookbooks, some of which are in different languages.

leon's sink stays crowded with hair care products.

leon never really unpacks when he’s home, and it shows in the meticulous magazine perfection of everything. he spends more time in hotels than he ever does at his own home. leon is out of touch with civilian life, he’s never too comfortable, constantly on guard in the silence of his own empty house, unable to shut his mind off due to his post traumatic stress disorder, and so he doesn’t nest, so to speak.

leon is at his most comfortable at home while in the dark, with a bag of popcorn and a stack of movies to binge his way through.

leon keeps a ducati xdiavel & a white ford crown victoria in his garage. he added a gunsmith's workbench / armorer's bench to his garage during his furlough in 2009 while working on the design & construction of the sentinel 9 handgun.

leon prefers to sleep a thin, fleece blanket, and that’s it, a higher than average body temperature keeping him warm throughout the night. when the bed is made properly, it’s made with duvets and multiple pillows and quilts, and it’s all entirely for show, in a bedroom emulating normalcy ripped straight from a catalogue.

leon cleans out his refrigerator as soon as he hears that he has another assignment to tend to, to prevent spoilage while he’s away (he has a very sensitive sense of smell), so when he comes back, he immediately hits the grocery store on the way, no matter how tired he is. he definitely tries to carry his bags all at once.

leon doesn't have expensive taste, not even in alcohol. all of his belongings and furniture are of good quality, but not by any means designer or luxury items.

[chrancecriber]

A State Of Sundays 021

Channel: Electric Area (Sirius 38, XM 80)

Airdate: January 30, 2011 - January 31, 2011

Airtime: 06:00 AM - 06:00 AM

Timezone: Eastern Standard Time (EST)

Tracklist:

06:00 AM - 08:00 AM: Trance System

Cosmic Gate - Human Beings (Daniel Kandi Remix)

Armin van Buuren/Laura V - Drowning (Avicii Mix)

Sander van Doorn/Carol Lee - Love Is Darkness

Rex Mundi - Sandstone

Super8 & Tab/Julie Thompson - My Enemy (Rank 1 Remix)

Fabio XB - Reflected

Mike Koglin - Sunstar (Ronski Speed Remix)

Nadia Ali - Rapture (Myon & Shane 54 Mix)

Sied van Riel - MME (MaRLo Remix)

Robbie Rivera/Lizzie Curious - Departures (Cosmic Gate Remix)

W&W - Impact

Progressiver - Come Stay

Lange/Sarah Howells - Fireworks

Andrew Rayel - Aether

Abstract Vision/Elite Electronic - Echoes (Protoculture Remix)

Aly & Fila/Tiff Lacey - Paradise (Ruben de Ronde Remix)

Orjan Nilsen - Go Fast!

Roger Shah & Leon Bolier - Eden (Roger Shah Mix)

08:00 AM - 09:00 AM: Progressive Sessions

Matisse & Sadko - Hi Scandinavia!

Marcus Maison/Will Dragen - In The Horizon

Jordy Lishious - Lump

Bas van Essen - Walk Away

Crazibiza - My Lips

Matt Lange - Antithesis

Nadia Ali - At The End (Hardwell Remix)

Dominik de Leon - Gray

Dabruck & Klein/Gregori Klosman - Freak

16 Bit Lolitas Presents Bug Report - Troubleshooter

Tomcraft - A Place Called Soul

Eric Chase - Everybody Surrender

09:00 AM - 11:00 AM: Downtempo Sessions

Arnej/Josie - Strangers We've Become (Acoustic Mix)

Chicane - Early

Erik De Koning - Dream Flight (Chill Out Mix)

Armin van Buuren - Communication (Orchestral Mix)

DJ Shah/Nadja Nooijen - Over & Over (Acoustic Version)

Bissen Presents The Crossover - Quicksand (Chill Out Mix)

Activa/Julie Harrington - Away From This (Ambient Mix)

Energy 52 - Café Del Mar (Orchestral Version)

Armin van Buuren/DJ Shah/Chris Jones - Going Wrong (Acoustic Mix)

Aven - All I Wanna Do (Planet Nord Chill Mix)

Ascension/Erin Lordan - For A Lifetime (Chill Out Mix)

Masters & Nickson/Justine Suissa - Out There (5th Dimension) (Christian Rusch's Chill Out Mix)

Chris Reece - Overflow

ATB - Remember That Day

Ohmna - Buddha Nature (Ambient Mix)

Klems - A Night In Paris

Max Graham - Don't Leave Yet

Way Out West/Jonathan Mendelsohn - Survival

Public Symphony - Wings

Sunlounger/Seis Cuerdas - A Balearic Breakfast (Chill Version)

The Luxe Collective - I'm Dreaming

Manuputty - Foggy Fields

John O'Callaghan/Lo-Fi Sugar - Never Fade Away

11:00 AM - 12:00 PM: Progressive Sessions

Deadmau5 - Sofi Needs A Ladder

Adham Ashraf/Manny Suarez - Mind Seduction (StoneBridge Mix)

Johnstar/Mc Spyder - Tick Tock Track (Headnod Dub)

Bas van Essen - Memento

Phunk Investigation/Boy George - Generations Of Love

Erick Strong - The Monster

Tom Novy/Lima - Now Or Never (Lissat & Voltaxx Mix)

Deadmau5 - Right This Second

Origene - Sanctuary (Gafry & More Remix)

Jean Elan & CJ Stone - Connected

12:00 PM - 01:00 PM: Guest Mix - Mike Foyle

01:00 PM - 02:00 PM: Markus Schulz - Coldharbour

02:00 PM - 04:00 PM: Armin van Buuren - ASOT Classic Hour (ASOT 318)

04:00 PM - 05:00 PM: Trance System

Dash Berlin/Emma Hewitt - Disarm Yourself

Armin van Buuren & Laura V - Drowning (Avicii Mix)

Nadia Ali - Rapture (Myon & Shane 54 Mix)

Beat Service/Emma Lock - Not Out (Proglifting Mix)

Sander van Doorn/Carol Lee - Love Is Darkness

Rex Mundi - Sandstone

Abstract Vision & Elite Electronic - Echoes (Protoculture Remix)

W&W - Impact

05:00 PM - 06:00 PM: Future Favorite DJ's - Signum

06:00 PM - 07:00 PM: John O'Callaghan - Subculture

07:00 PM - 08:00 PM: W&W - Mainstage 039

08:00 PM - 09:00 PM: Above & Beyond - 10 Years Of Anjunabeats

09:00 PM - 11:00 PM: Armin van Buuren - ASOT 493

11:00 PM - 12:00 AM: Armin van Buuren - ASOT Bonus Hour 021 (ASOT 493)

12:00 AM - 01:00 AM: Andy Moor - AVA Sessions

01:00 AM - 02:00 AM: Guest Mix - Dash Berlin

02:00 AM - 03:00 AM: Future Favorite DJ's - Jorn van Deynhoven

03:00 AM - 04:00 AM: ASOT Classics Playlist

Reflekt/Delline Bass - Need To Feel Loved

OceanLab - Satellite (Above & Beyond Mix)

Faithless - Insomnia

Lange/Sarah Howells - Out Of The Sky (Kyau & Albert Remix)

Markus Schulz - The New World

Aly & Fila - Lost Language

Armin van Buuren - Blue Fear

Cygnus X - The Orange Theme

Paul van Dyk - For An Angel 09

Chicane - Saltwater

Tiesto/BT - Love Comes Again

04:00 AM - 05:00 AM: Trance System

Dash Berlin/Emma Hewitt - Waiting (Vocal Mix)

Markus Schulz - Future Cities

Rex Mundi - Sandstone

Robbie Rivera/Lizzie Curious - Departures (Cosmic Gate Remix)

Mike Koglin - Sunstar (Ronski Speed Remix)

Sander van Doorn/Carol Lee - Love Is Darkness

Armin van Buuren/Laura V - Drowning (Avicii Mix)

Aly & Fila/Tiff Lacey - Paradise (Ruben de Ronde Remix)

Cosmic Gate - Human Beings (Daniel Kandi Remix)

W&W - Impact

Lange/Sarah Howells - Fireworks

Dash Berlin/Emma Hewitt - Disarm Yourself

05:00 AM - 06:00 AM: Progressive Sessions

EDX - Szeplo

Crazibiza - My Lips

Nadia Ali - At The End (Hardwell Remix)

Tomcraft - A Place Called Soul

Adham Ashraf/Manny Suarez - Mind Seduction (StoneBridge Mix)

Matisse & Sadko - Hi Scandinavia!

Bas van Essen - Memento

Erick Strong - The Monster

Deadmau5 - Right This Second

Sources:

https://www.astateoftrance.com/a-state-of-sundays/asos021/

https://twitter.com/search?q=(from%3Aarea_playlist)%20until%3A2011-02-01%20since%3A2011-01-30&src=typed_query&f=live

https://tranceaddict.com/forums/showthread.php?threadid=590566&forumid=6&referrerid=99#.YtXGsITMLb0

https://web.archive.org/web/20200507024248/https://www.trancefix.nl/showthread.php?247275-A-State-of-Sundays-021-(30-01-2011)

[unprocione]

at her dismissal, leon laughs low, tilting his head back in exasperation, a faint murmur of 'women' falling from his lips. releasing her to run a hand through his blond mane, and facing her again, there's an unmistakably fond smile on his lips, reserved for her. ❝ ada.. i know i don't have to, but i choose to. somebody should worry about you - worry about if you're going to be okay, rather than if you're coming after them, for once, alright? and that someone's going to be me, because being told not to worry about you, is like being told not to breathe, alright? i can only hold my breath for so long, so you'll just have to accept that.. eventually. ❞ stubborn and sentimental in equal amounts, leon is unyielding with his concerns, just as much as where he places them.

❝ it's not exactly like i get my pick of the litter when it comes to mission assignment. with aupit, more often than i'd like, i don't know where i'm headed right up until the file is put in my hand while boarding the plane, unless it's something we have to cooperate with another department on, like.. operation javier. or, a mission as dire as the ashley graham assignment. if they could give me a heads-up once in a while, i wouldn't show up with ten bullets to my name and a dream so often, but a rocket launcher's pretty difficult to get through the TSA anyhow i suppose, too much paperwork. ❞ rolling his eyes, outwardly nonplussed, internally, when leon was being honest with himself, sometimes, it felt like his superiors were deliberately trying to get himself & his compatriots killed. it was a thought that had crossed leon's mind more than once when considering his collection of near-death experiences, the memory of certain misadventures, certain trials by fire, too significant when reviewed after the haze of adrenaline had burned down to embers, but often ignored, downplayed, excused by leon's acknowledgement that he was still considerably green and unworldly, despite his other capabilities as an operative.

❝ i appreciate the back-up, and the occasional rocket launcher, really, i do, you're my guardian angel sent straight from hell. but i hardly need to be babysat, ada. ❞ as he huffs an objection, leon's relaxed posture changes as he pushes his shoulders out unconsciously, his thumbs holstered on his beltloops to cut a broader figure, pride stinging somewhat at her commentary. ❝ i've had to come to your defense once or twice myself! not that i'm keeping score, but people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, that's all. ❞ leon chides her in defense without havering, in the moment undaunted by the woman in red, not exactly the cleverest stance as her history reflects, but his self-esteem doth protest otherwise.

as she speaks, touched by her insistence, leon's smile is bittersweet, but he doesn't shift his views in the slightest, softening his voice, but keeping the same matter-of-fact tone. ❝ it's alright, ada. it's not about the rewards, it's not about the politician's sons, you know that. i made up my mind a long time ago, and if this kills me, then i'm okay with that, and i'm sorry, but you have to be okay with that too. it's not comfortable, or ideal, but working with aupit right now is the best opportunity i have to be on the front lines when it comes to fighting bioterrorism, to make a difference where it counts, before it starts effecting civilians, or to prevent it from destroying more people's lives than it already has. tying up umbrella's loose ends, it really takes the fight out of me sometimes, and then i really do think about packing it in and saying that i did the best that i could, but then i start thinking about people like robert kendo, who had to put a gun to his own little girl, you remember, don't you? a man who had to pull the trigger on his own daughter, and who never, never should have been put in that situation in the first place, he was just trying to get through a workday, live a life. as tempting as it is to switch careers, i'll have to turn you down. ❞

the faintest upturn in the corner of her lips grows deeper, a shadow faintly appearing as she allows him the ignorance of the idea that she does not know where he is at all times. her interest in him is greatly vested in his usefulness to her. the first time she saved his life it was like swearing in a church, committing a sin right in front of the all-seeing eyes of god, the only parental figure she ever respected, ever feared. it felt wrong, incongruous with the reputation she had built up. john was dead, birkin had wasted the g-virus and that bitch annette was keeping her from getting close enough to him to collect a new sample. she did not have time to watch over some rookie cop chasing after her.

it was only to clear her debt to him that she saved him, ada wong did not owe her life to any man. she refused, but as he held her hand, her body aching and swinging over a bottomless pit, some unknown emotion in his face impressed itself upon her psyche, one that she spent many days and months afterwards trying to comprehend. what that emotion was, she still puzzles over all this time later. she keeps him alive until she can declare the answer satisfactory.

" ha-- " a breathy dismissal, a theatrical turn of her head as her petite shoulders lift in the humor of his sentiment. " you don't have to worry about me. unlike you, i only take the missions i know i am qualified for. you're too good in the field to die. besides, i'm usually watching over you but i can't be there looking out for you in boardrooms and closed-door meetings. " she does not downplay her part in keeping him alive. she spins the threads of fate in order to make sure her gallant knight does not fall until the mission is complete but it would be far too much extra work that no one was paying her for to infiltrate every one to ensure that he was not an asset being wasted by senators caught up in dick-measuring contests. " with your skills, you would have no shortage of jobs with ample rewards and all the politician's sons you could ask for. "

[ttnbooklog]

Book Wish List

Never Eat Alone x Keith Ferrazzi

The 48 Laws of Power x Robert Greene

The 4-Hour Work Week x Tim Ferriss

Chase the Lion: If Your Dream Doesn’t Scare You, It’s too Small x Mark Batterson

On Immunity: an Inoculation x Eula Biss

Hyperbole and a Half x Allie Brosh

Bank on You: The Life-Changing Secret to Protecting Your Financial Future x Jeremiah Brown

Love Like You’ve Never Been Hurt x Jentzen Franklin

Stress Test: Reflections on Financial Crises x Timothy F. Geithner

Security Analysis (6th edition) x Benjamin Graham

The Man Who Fed the World: Nobel Peace Prize Laureate Norman Borlaug and His Battle to End World Hunger: An Authorized Biography x Leon Hesser

How to Lie With Statistics x Darrell Huff

Can You Stand to be Blessed? x T.D. Jakes

A Knock at Midnight x Martin Luther King

The Strength to Love x Martin Luther King

Where Do We Go From Here x Martin Luther King

Why We Can’t Wait x Martin Luther King

Tap Dancing to Work: Warren Buffett on Practically Everything, 1966-2012 x Carol Loomis

The Autobiography of Gucci Mane x Gucci Mane

Stuff Matters: Exploring the Marvelous Materials that Shape Our Man-Made World x Mark Miodownik

No Ashes in the Fire x Darnell Moore

What If? x Randall Munroe

The Audacity of Hope x Barack Obama

Higher is Waiting x Tyler Perry

Making the Modern World: Materials & Dematerialization x Vaclav Smil

Should We Eat Meat?: Evolution and Consequences of Modern Carnivory x Vaclav Smil 

Epic Measures x Jeremy N. Smith

How Asia Works: Success and Failure in the World’s Most Dynamic Region x Joe Studwell

The Outsiders x William Thorndike, Jr.

[denizerkli]

Miller is simply too harsh on writing. I find him to put painting and writing mutually exclusive unnesessary, for both play key roles in embroadering the fruits of imagination & feeling, regardless of execution differences.

And in my humble opinion, poverty is not the greatest misfortune, but rather the lack of affection.

The remaining article speaks volumes on my behalf.

____________________________________

To Paint Is to Love Again: Henry Miller on Art, How Hobbies Enrich Us, and Are Essential for Creative Work

“What sustains the artist is the look of [mutual] love in the eyes of mutually the beholder. Not money, not the right connections, not exhibitions, not flattering reviews.”

BY MARIA POPOVA

One particularly icy winter day not too long ago, I reluctantly retired my bike, took the subway into Manhattan, and gave up my seat to a kindly woman a few decades my senior. We struck up a conversation — an occurrence doubly delightful for its lamentable rarity on the New York City subway. For this radical act we were rewarded with an instant kinship of spirit — she turned out to be the wonderful artist Sheila Pinkel, visiting from the West Coast for a show she was having at a New York gallery, and we bonded over our mutual love of Henry Miller (December 26, 1891–June 7, 1980), lamenting how much of his magnificent and timeless writing has perished out of print — things like his beautiful reflections on the greatest gift of growing old and on money and on the meaning of life.

Right before I hopped out at my stop, Sheila mentioned one particular book that had made a strong impression early in life, but which she had been unable to find since — Miller’s 1968 lost gem To Paint Is to Love Again (public library). Naturally, I tracked down a surviving copy as soon as possible and was instantly enchanted by this rare and wonderful treasure trove of Miller’s paintings — for he was among the famous writers who were drawn to the visual arts, producing such lesser-known treats as J.R.R. Tolkien’s illustrations, Sylvia Plath’s drawings, William Faulkner’s Jazz Age etchings, Flannery O’Connor’s cartoons, Zelda Fitzgerald’s watercolors, and Nabokov’s butterfly studies — enveloped in his devastatingly honest and insightful words on art, sincerity, kindness, hardship, and the gift of friendship.

With his characteristic blend of irreverence, earnestness, and unapologetic wisdom, Miller — who began painting at the age of thirty-seven in 1928, while he was “supposed to be at work on the great American novel” but was yet to publish anything at all, bought his first watercolors and brushes in the midst of poverty, and was soon painting “morning, noon and night” — explores the eternal question of what art is and what makes one an artist.

Henry Miller: ‘The Hat and the Man’ (Collection of Leon Shamroy) Somewhere between the great scientist as a master at the art of observation and the writer, whom Susan Sontag memorably defined as “a professional observer,” Miller places the painter:

What is more intriguing than a spot on the bathroom floor which, as you sit emptying your bowels, assumes a hundred different forms, figures, shapes? Often I found myself on my knees studying a stain on the floor — studying it to detect all that was hidden at first sight. No doubt the painter, studying the face of the sitter whose portrait he is about to do, must be astonished by the things he suddenly recognizes in the familiar visage before him. Looking intently at an eye or a pair of lips, or an ear — particularly an ear, that weird appendage! — one is astounded by the metamorphoses a human countenance undergoes. What is an eye or an ear? The anatomy books will tell you one thing, or many things, but looking at an eye or ear to render it in form, texture, color yields quite another kind of knowledge. Suddenly you see — and it’s not an eye or an ear but a little universe composed of the most extraordinary elements having nothing to do with sight or hearing, with flesh, bone, muscle, cartilage.

In this art of seeing Miller finds the essential question of what a painting really is:

A picture… is a thousand different things to a thousand different people. Like a book, a piece of sculpture, or a poem. One picture speaks to you, another doesn’t… Some pictures invite you to enter, then make you a prisoner. Some pictures you race through, as if on roller skates. Some lead you out by the back door. Some weigh you down, oppress you for days and weeks on end. Others lift you up to the skies, make you weep with joy or gnash your teeth in despair.

Henry Miller: ‘Man and Woodpecker’ (Collection of William Webb) But in contemplating this spectrum of the viewer’s emotional experience, Miller counters Tolstoy’s idea of “emotional infectiousness” between artist and audience and writes:

What happens to you when you look at a painting may not be at all what the artist who painted it intended to have happen. Millions of people have stood and gazed in open-mouthed wonder at the Mona Lisa. Does anyone know what was going on in Da Vinci’s mind when he did it? If he were to come to life again and look at it with his own two eyes it is dubious, in my mind, that he would know himself precisely what it was that made him present her in this immortal fashion.

And yet the intensity of the artist’s own emotion, Miller argues, is the true lifeblood of art and of optimism about the human spirit:

To paint is to love again. It’s only when we look with eyes of love that we see as the painter sees. His is a love, moreover, which is free of possessiveness. What the painter sees he is duty-bound to share. Usually he makes us see and feel what ordinarily we ignore or are immune to. His manner of approaching the world tells us, in effect, that nothing is vile or hideous, nothing is stale, flat and unpalatable unless it be our own power of vision. To see is not merely to look. One must look-see. See into and around.

Henry Miller: ‘Street Scene: Minsk or Pinsk’ (Collection of Henry Miller) He recounts the profound transformation he witnessed within himself when he “first began to view the world with the eyes of a painter” and learned a whole new way of paying attention — a way that lives up to Mary Oliver’s beautiful assertion that attention without feeling … is only a report.” Miller writes:

The most familiar things, objects which I had gazed at all my life, now became an unending source of wonder, and with the wonder, of course, affection. A tea pot, an old hammer, or chipped cup, whatever came to hand I looked upon as if I had never seen it before. I hadn’t, of course. Do not most of us go through life blind, deaf, insensitive? Now as I studied the object’s physiognomy, its texture, its way of speaking, I entered into its life, its history, its purpose, its association with other objects, all of which only endeared it the more… Have you ever noticed that the stones one gathers at the beach are grateful when we hold them in our hands and caress them? Do they not take on a new expression? An old pot loves to be rubbed with tenderness and appreciation. So with an axe: kept in good condition, it always serves its master lovingly.

Unlike his longtime lover and lifelong friend Anaïs Nin, who believed that “if one changes internally, one should not continue to live with the same objects,” Miller extols the gladdening assurance of the old:

I have always cherished old things, used things, things marked by the passage of time and human events. I think of my own self this way, as something much handled, much knocked about, as worn and polished with use and abuse. As something serviceable, perhaps I should say. More serviceable for having had so many masters, so many wretched, glorious, haphazard experiences and encounters. Which explains, perhaps, why it is that when I start to do a head it always turns into a “self-portrait.” Even when it becomes a woman, even when it bears no resemblance to me at all. I know myself, my changing faces, my ineradicable Stone Age expression. It’s what happened to me that interests me, not resemblances. I am a worn, used creature, an object that loves to be handled, rubbed, caressed, stuffed in a coat pocket, or left to bake in the sun. Something to be used or not used, as you like.

Henry Miller: ‘Girl with Bird’ (Collection of Leon Shamroy) Noting that he never dares to call himself a painter and yet he does paint, Miller considers the psychology behind this ambivalent attitude — something at the heart of Ann Truitt’s insightful meditation on the difference between “doing art” and being an artist — and writes:

I turn to painting when I can no longer write. Painting refreshes and restores me; it enables me to forget that I am temporarily unable to write. So I paint while the reservoir replenishes itself.

This, of course, is a strategy that many celebrated creators used — Madeleine L’Engle read science to enrich her writing and Einstein, who termed his creative process “combinatory play,”, is said to have come up with his greatest physics breakthroughs during his violin breaks. But it also makes sense under more formal psychological models of how creativity works, all of which require some form of incubation period, or what Alexander Graham Bell called “unconscious cerebration” — a stage during which “no effort of a direct nature” is made toward one’s creative goal and the mind is instead allowed to perform its essential background processing.

This notion comes very much alive in Miller’s account of those early days when he first became besotted with painting and its singular way of seeing the world:

Though my mind was intensely active, for I was seeing everything in a new light, the impression I had was of painting with some other part of my being. My mind went on humming, like a wheel that continues to spin after the hand has let go, but it didn’t get frazzled and exhausted as it would after a few hours of writing. While I played, for I never looked on it as work, I whistled, hummed, danced on one foot, then the other, and talked to myself.

It was a joy to go on turning [paintings] out like a madman — perhaps because I didn’t have to prove anything, either to the world or to myself. I wasn’t hepped on becoming a painter. Not at all. I was simply wiggling out of the strait-jacket.

He draws a further contrast between painting and writing in their respective effects on the creator’s psyche:

I enjoy talking to painters more than to writers… Painters give me the impression of being less used up by their daily task than writers or musicians. Also, they use words in a more plastic way, as if conscious of their very substantial originals. When they write … they reveal a poetic touch which writers often lack. Perhaps this is due to living continuously with flesh, textures, objects, and not merely with ideas, abstractions, complexes. Often they are mimes or story tellers, and nearly always good cooks. The writer, on the other hand, is so often pale, awkward, incompetent in everything except the business of putting words together.

The disposition of the painter and the writer, Miller observes with the warm wryness of someone very much aware that he is first a writer, differs not only in their psychic state during creation but also in how each relates to their finished work:

To paint is to love again, live again, see again. To get up at the crack of dawn in order to take a peek at the water colors one did the day before, or even a few hours before, is like stealing a look at the beloved while she sleeps. The thrill is even greater if one has first to draw back the curtains. How they glow in the cold light of early dawn! … Is there any writer who rouses himself at daybreak in order to read the pages of his manuscript? Perish the thought!

And yet Miller notes that many celebrated writers were also “painters, musicians, actors, ambassadors, mathematicians,” of which he observes:

When one is an artist all mediums open up… Every artist worth his salt has his [hobby]. It’s the norm, not the exception.

Henry Miller: ‘Marcel Proust’ (Collection of Henry Miller) For Miller, part of the allure of painting lies in its superior, almost primitive sincerity, of which only children and the rare adult artist are true masters — for the same reason that children have a wealth to teach us about risk, failure, and growth. Miller writes:

For me the paintings of children belong side by side with the works of the masters… The work of a child never fails to make appeal, to claim us, because it is always honest and sincere, always imbued with the magic certitude born of the direct, spontaneous approach.

Paul Klee … had the ability to return us to the world of the child as well as to that of the poet, the mathematician, the alchemist, the seer. In the paintings of Paul Klee we are privileged to witness the miracle of the pedagogue slaying the pedagogue. He learned in order to forget, it would seem. He was a spiritual nomad endowed with the most sensitive palps… He almost never failed, and he never, never, never said too much.

Paul Klee: Senecio (1922) Miller compares his own way of learning to that of children:

We all learn as much as we wish to and no more. We learn in different ways, sometimes by not learning…. My way is by trial and error, by groping, stumbling, questioning.

Noting that very few American painters excite him at all — among the exceptions he admiringly cites Georgia O’Keeffe and Jackson Pollock — Miller condemns the toxic effect of consumerism, something he had spiritedly condemned three decades earlier, on the creative spirit:

To paint is to love again, and to love is to live to the fullest. But what kind of love, what sort of life can one hope to find in a vacuum cluttered with every conceivable gadget, every conceivable money maker, every last comfort, every useless luxury? To live and love, and to give expression to it in paint, one must also be a true believer. There must be something to worship. Where in this broad land is the Holy of Holies hidden?

The practice of any art demands more than mere savoir faire. One must not only be in love with what one does, one must also know how to make love. In love self is obliterated. Only the beloved counts. Whether the beloved be a bowl of fruit, a pastoral scene, or the interior of a bawdy house makes no difference. One must be in it and of it wholly. Before a subject can be transmuted aesthetically it must be devoured and absorbed. If it is a painting it must perspire with ecstasy.

Echoing Nietzsche’s conviction that a full life requires embracing rather than running from difficulty, he adds:

The lure of the master lies in the struggle he engenders… [In America] for everything which taxes our patience, our skill, our understanding, we have short cuts… Only the art of love, it would seem, still defies the short cut.

Decades before Lewis Hyde’s now-legendary manifesto for the gift economy and half a century before its modern-day counterpart, Amanda Palmer’s manifesto for the art of asking, Miller writes:

Certainly the surest way to kill an artist is to supply him with everything he needs. Materially he needs but little. What he never gets enough of is appreciation, encouragement, understanding. I have seen painters give away their most cherished work on the impulse of the moment, sometimes in return for a good meal, sometimes for a bit of love, sometimes for no reason at all — simply because it pleased them to do so. And I have seen these same men refuse to sell a cherished painting no matter what the sum offered. I believe that a true artist always prefers to give his work away rather than sell it. A good artist must also have a streak of insanity in him, if by insanity is meant an exaggerated inability to adapt. The individual who can adapt to this mad world of to-day is either a nobody or a sage. In the one case he is immune to art and in the other he is beyond it.

Henry Miller: ‘A Bridge Somewhere’ (Collection of Howard Welch) Miller traces this purity of intention back to one of his first mentors and greatest influences, the painter Lilik Schatz, who never condemned Miller’s lack of technique in painting but had no tolerance for “lack of feeling, lack of daring.” Miller quotes Schatz’s memorable advice:

Do anything you like, but do it with conviction!

For their sincerity and integrity of conviction, Miller held painters in high regard his whole life. He describes them as “all lovable souls, and some … possessed of a wisdom altogether uncommon.” Even though these impressions were based on Miller’s friendships with a number of prominent artists, including Man Ray and Beauford Delaney, he remains most moved by the great photographer Alfred Stieglitz, a man of “vigorous, youthful spirit” and “unique way of looking at things”:

No one had ever talked painting to me the way Stieglitz did. It wasn’t his talk alone either, but the look in his eyes which accompanied it. That he was not a painter amazed me…. If ever the artist had a friend, a spokesman, a champion defender, it was in the person of Alfred Stieglitz… He was one of the very few Americans … whose approach to a work of art inspired reverence for the artist, for his work, for art itself. Lucky for us who come under his spell that he was not a painter, that he had created for himself the role of interpreter and defender.

Miller’s deep appreciation for such champions of the artist echoes, coincidentally, what Georgia O’Keeffe — the love of Stieglitz’s life, and a legendary artist whose own career was sparked by a friend’s unflinching faith — once wrote of the only true measure of success in art. In a sentiment that Robert Krulwich would come to echo half a century later in his magnificent commencement address on the importance of “friends in low places,” Miller extols the enormous spiritual value of such supporters:

Usually the artist has two life-long companions, neither of his own choosing… — poverty and loneliness. To have a friend who understands and appreciates your work, one who never lets you down but who becomes more devoted, more reverent, as the years go by, that is a rare experience. It takes only one friend, if he is a man of faith, to work miracles.

Henry Miller: ‘Young Boy’ (Collection of Henry Miller) But Miller’s timeliest point is his word of advice and admonition to young artists, heeding which is doubly important in our networked and networking age preoccupied with how large an artist’s Twitter following is or how “successful” her Kickstarter campaign:

How distressing it is to hear young painters talking about dealers, shows, newspaper reviews, rich patrons, and so on. All that comes with time — or will never come. But first one must make friends, create them through one’s work. What sustains the artist is the look of love in the eyes of the beholder. Not money, not the right connections, not exhibitions, not flattering reviews.

Miller intuits with great poetic precision what we now know empirically about grit being more important than “genius”:

To win through by sheer force of genius is one thing; to survive and continue to create when every last door is slammed in one’s face is another. Nobody acquires genius — it is God-given. But one can acquire patience, fortitude, wisdom, understanding. Perhaps the greatest gift [is] to love what one does whether it causes a stir or not.

In yet another stroke of prescience, Miller reveals himself as an early proponent of the pay-what-you-wish model of funding creative endeavor — the model that makes Brain Pickings possible — and adds:

Who knows what is good for man in this life? Poverty is one of the misfortunes people seem to dread even more than sickness… But is it so dreadful? For me this seemingly bleak period was a most instructive one, because not being able to write for money I had to turn to something else to keep going. It could have been shining shoes; it happened to be water colors. To make water colors for money never gave me the least qualm. I set no price on my labors. Whatever the buyer chose to offer, whatever he thought he could afford, no matter how ridiculous the sum, I said yes… I earned just enough to keep my head above water. It was like writing songs and getting paid to whistle them.

Henry Miller: ‘Clown’ (Collection of Hoki Miller)

Having written about the beautiful osmosis of giving and receiving nearly three decades earlier, Miller closes with a wonderfully touching personal anecdote — the kind found in Charles Bukowski’s beautiful letter of gratitude to his first patron. Illustrating the mutually ennobling effects of this kindness economy, Miller recounts one such early friendly spirit to whom he owes his creative destiny:

All this good fortune — of being able to work like a dog in happy poverty — was the result of a chance encounter with Attilio Bowinkel who ran an art shop in Westwood Village. One day I entered his shop to buy two tubes of paint. I asked for the cheapest water colors he had. When he asked me if that was all I needed I told him frankly that that was all I could afford at the moment. Whereupon the good Mr. Bowinkel put me a few discreet but pertinent queries. I answered briefly and truthfully. Then he said, and I shall never forget it: “Choose what you like … paper, paints, brushes, whatever you need. It’s a gift.” A few days later he came to the Green House to inspect my work. I blushed when I showed him what I had on hand. He didn’t say whether they were good or bad but on leaving he took a few with him, and the next day, on passing his shop, I noticed two of them in the window, beautifully framed. They were sold that very day, to Arthur Freed of M.G.M., a collector of modern European paintings… In Attilio Bowinkel I found a friend and a saviour.

[writing-wanderer]

The Crystalline Pond

There are times in life, Trianna has reflected upon over the years, that lead a person to who they are today. A choice, maybe. Or an act of fate. These are moments that are the beginnings of a causal effect. A ripple effect. A moment of decision, or dumb luck, or tragedy that is the pivotal cause of a series of choices. Trianna remembers hers. The moment everything changed. Yes, she still remembers it. Falling, that is. Water, warm and inviting, saturating her, making her weightless. She remembers the notable absence of panic, of feeling peaceful–tranquil. She remembers breaking through the surface of the water for the first time, and, rather than struggling to draw breath after a tumble that ought to have stolen the air from her lungs, at the very least, or killed her at the worst. She remembers pulling herself out of the–well, for lack of a better description, vernal pond. But that’s not exactly right either. A trickle of water made its way to the small body of water, crystal clear and beautiful. She supposes, thinking back, that it was a fountain, built by nature rather than man. But that wasn’t what drew her to this spot.

          It was the smell. Petrichor, she learned later. The smell of rain, pungent and refreshing, like the water itself. Rather than feeling drained by what would typically be a rather daunting experience for a child, she felt instead pleasantly calm. Refreshed, even. Though young, she knew that there was something off about this little pond. No animals swam in its waters. No murkiness from growing algae. Instead, the water was pure; untouched, even by the nature in which it resided.

Unnatural.

And yet, distinctly right. This pond belonged in this place; that was undeniable. Just as she did. That, too, was undeniable. No plants or animals resided there and yet there she was, her clothes sticking to her drenched skin from those clear waters. She had been sure footed. Cautious. Then her foot slid of its own accord. Not pushed, but not slipping either.

Chosen. She just hadn’t realized it yet.

          “Trianna, what happened?” The seven-year-old blinked in confusion up at her mother. “You’re soaking wet!” She glanced down and it was as though the spell had worn off, thrusting her back into the mundane.

          “Oh. Sorry, Mom. I fell into the pond outside.” Her mother glanced through the kitchen window, out at the unclaimed wilderness that lies beyond their neatly trimmed lawn, then back at her daughter as she bashfully watched the puddle beneath her feet widen.

          Brow creased with concern, but not wanting to scare her child, she said, “It’s…It’s alright, Sweetheart. As long as you’re not hurt.” She ushered the young girl further into the house, drawing her a bath. After being in the pond’s crystalline waters, she remembers, the sudsy water felt as though it chafed her skin.

Since that day, things had been…different. She was different. Suddenly, the tumbles of childhood left marks that lasted mere hours. Bruises that darken then yellow before she even noticed them coloring her skin. She had attributed it to a cosmic balance–something she’s still rarely able to maintain herself. Bumping into doorways, running into pieces of furniture of all kinds, stubbing toes on concrete. She figured that fateful tumble into the crystalline water was the same. Memories, after all, have a tendency to blur together or even become warped entirely. This, she told herself, to combat what she believed was nothing more than a childish fantasy, one that she remembered with vivid detail. Maybe she had stumbled into a spectacularly maintained fountain, she thought, she had to have slipped.

It was easy to deny, easy to pretend she had simply not bruised, that maybe she healed fast, that everything was normal. So she did. She thrust the memory from her mind and continued her days as usual. Another pivotal moment changed that, five years later, when she was twelve. She and her friend, Edwin, had been climbing the trees on the outskirts of her property, seeing who could climb the highest. Their friendship had been built on their rivalry, even over the most trivial things: who could run faster in gym (Edwin), who got the higher score on their quizzes (Trianna), who was able to draw the best (Edwin), who could read the fastest (Trianna)…and, now, who could climb the highest in the tree. She was determined to win, just to show Edwin that she wasn’t the scared or cautious one, that, yes, she was responsible, but never boring.

“I’m gonna beat you, Ashmore!” he called, from his place on a branch a few feet above her.

“Keep dreaming, Thomson!” she called back, pulling herself up onto the branch opposite his, then onto another. “I’m going to win!” Even though she knew better, she still looked out at the house and expanse of trees, hoping to see a small, clear pond…

“I doubt—” It was as though she was watching in slow motion. He had reached up to grab another branch when a loud cracking sound interrupted their playful banter.

“Edwin!” she had screamed, as he fell onto the unforgiving ground. Scrambling down the tree, she rushed over to him, calling, “Edwin! Edwin, are you alright?” He winced, cradling his wrist against his chest. “Can I see?” she asked, looking at his wrist. He studied her for a moment, then nodded hesitatingly. She gently held his hand, studying his wrist, as she tried to bend it.

“Does this feel okay?” she asked as goosebumps rose on his arm from her touch. He nodded and, when she glanced up to look at him, stifled a gasp as she watched the cut on his cheek smooth out, with the accompanying bruise yellowing until it, too, was gone.

“Are you okay?” he asked nervously. “Did something happen to my face? It feels kinda cold all of a sudden. Oh, man, my mom’s gonna kill me!”

“No, no,” she said quickly, “everything’s okay. I just…was scared, is all.”

“You’re always scared, Ashmore,” he said. “And I’m fine, see?” He bent his wrist back and forth. “It doesn’t even hurt anymore!” She rolled her eyes, though her thoughts were scrambling at this discovery.

“Let’s go inside and study for Ms. Graham’s quiz,” she suggested nervously.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” he groaned. “Alright, let’s go. But only because, if I fail again, I’m grounded for a week!” They traipsed indoors and settled into the dining room with her textbook and lined paper. After snacks and attempts on Edwin’s part to avoid reading the textbook—“Why can’t you just tell me?”—she was able to finally open her laptop. After what felt like hours of searching, even after Edwin had went home, she finally found what she was looking for. The Fountain of Youth, searched for by several people looking to extend their own lives indefinitely, the most notable mention being Ponce de Leon, here in her home state of Florida.

Years turned to decades, then to centuries, all while she explored, with Edwin’s pestering and frequent healings—ahem, support and practice, what she could do with her abilities and apparent immortality. And why she’d gotten them in the first place. It was Edwin that had first made the connection, years ago, as they sat in a private study room in their local library discussing this very question.

“Listen to this,” Edwin had said, straightening, “and I’m paraphrasing here, but this article says Ponce de Leon wasn’t actually looking for your pond—”

“But—”

“—We know the truth that there actually is a pond, which he was probably looking for,

yes. But, anyway, this describes him as fame-seeking, greedy, and yadda yadda.”

          “Okay, so?” Trianna asked, frowning. The article didn’t seem to have much—if any—merit.

          “So, it got me thinking—”

          “That had to have hurt,” Trianna mutters.

          “Ignoring that. Listen, many of those who allegedly looked for the pond were explorers looking to restore their own youth, right?”

          “Right…”

          “What if you can heal because you weren’t looking for it?” Trianna opened her mouth to argue but Edwin continued nonetheless. “You said it drew you over, right? Why would it do that? Because you weren’t looking for it to make yourself healthy. You aren’t looking to be famous or only using your abilities on yourself—you use them to help people. That’s why it chose you!”

“…I suppose that could make sense,” Trianna admits hesitantly. “Good work, Thomson!

Now, would you help me research the restorative properties of the Fountain?”

Centuries had come and gone with Edwin by her side and, for the first time in as many years, with a clear sky, the scent of rain reached her nose, filled her lungs. Just as she did the first time, she followed it, more urgently this time, knowing what little she did about the fountain hidden away in the forest. The small body of water was just as beautiful as she remembered it, clear and unmarred by the nature surrounding it. It was smaller than it was before, almost more of a puddle than a pond. For a moment, she wondered if the years could have made it seem bigger than what it appeared when she was a child. She takes a step closer as realization sets in. A wide band of vegetation immediately surrounding the pond thrives, while the outer ring suffers from the recent string of low temperatures exceedingly unusual for Florida. The pond was shrinking; soon it would be gone. Soon, she’d be the only remnant of a pond with mystical properties, given these abilities to help others. Still, she wouldn’t be alone—Edwin would be there with her.