#god i love leon. i know people have tried to help him decorate his house before and his reply is always 'but i don't really /need/ that...'

[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.

[missmonsters2]

About You || Part IX

Gif by: giuliacommissions (please check her out if you’d like to commission her for gifs and other work 💞)

PAIRING: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader/OFC

Summary: Wanda had never known loss like she has until she lost Pietro. It’s debilitating. She can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t even leave her house. Life is fading fast, and she’s not sure if she even wants to hang on. Enter you, a stranger that reconnects her to the daily things that makes life beautiful.

Warnings: Deals with loss & grief and the spectrum of emotions and depression that comes with it. Please note there is no glorification in any of this. Loss, grief, and depression are nothing beautiful. Also, please don’t hesitate or reach out for help if you are in a dark place. Love you, lovelies 💘

Genre: Angst & Romance

NOTE: One more chapter after this. YES I KNOW I’M LATE IN POSTING AHH.

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV || PART V || PART VI || PART VII || PART VIII

PART IX of X

Count: 2562

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Moving into the new place is a whirlwind with you.

You let her paint all over the walls for decorations, and Wanda's never had so much fun picking a couch before.

Wanda is currently flushing red as Natasha is over, and she had caught the two of you amorously loving each other.

You had to go to work, so Wanda was left to face the embarrassment alone.

"You certainly have a lot of energy," Natasha comments, and Wanda drops her paintbrush.

"I can't help it," Wanda mumbles.

"Oh, it's fine. At least you're doing it in the name of love. Loudly, but for love."

"You could hear us?"

"We can hear you every time," Natasha deadpans.

"We?" Wanda emphasizes.

"My only advice is that you pick better times to do it if you can. Clint had to wait outside for an hour and a half last time he came over."

Wanda flushes, her ears a hot red while she tries to resume painting.

She can't help it if she wants to have you when she does.

"So, was Clint right?"

"About?" Wanda mumbles.

Natasha stares at her friend and frowns.

"That she's the top?"

Wanda slams her paintbrush down.

"No one is allowed to be friends with Clint anymore."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You were weird on the phone today.

A little skittish in Wanda's opinion. You said you wanted to take her somewhere after work. 

She couldn't help but worry that maybe you were regretting everything, but then you showed up at home at 7 PM with flowers in your hands.

"Would you go somewhere with me? I have something to tell you."

A look of worry passed over Wanda's face, but she nodded as she grabbed her jacket.

The ride was quiet. You were tense as your hand would grip the steering wheel before relaxing, the cycle repeating.

"Where are we going?" Wanda asked. 

"I wanted to show you the person who made sure I wasn't alone," you tell her. 

Wanda is surprised because she wasn't aware that your friend was in the same town. She thought they were out of your life, as you had indicated.

But then, when you pull up into the cemetery, Wanda's heart dropped.

"Why didn't you say so?" Wanda looks at you, heartbreaking at the sad smile on your face.

"It doesn't change that people do come and go."

Wanda doesn't say anything and lets you lead her. She feels a little on the edge because she knows this cemetery too well by now, and the route is familiar.

The two of you come to a stop, and Wanda looks at the gravestone she's seen many times before. She used to spend hours every day sitting here.

You put flowers down before standing up and looking at Wanda with wet eyes.

"I have something to give you," you quietly say, your hand fishing in your bag before you pull something out and put in Wanda's hands.

Her yearbook. 

Wanda looks back at the gravestone, the words searing on her eyes.

Pietro Maximoff.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Flashback...

You were in a bit of tizzy. You and your business partner just recently bought the space to open your own psychology clinic. 

You had just hired a marketing firm to help you with your advertising for your grand opening. He would be arriving in a couple of minutes with his advertisement plan.

"Hello?"

You shoot up from your office, putting down the boxes as you rush to the front.

"Hello!" You say breathlessly, feeling a little shame at what a mess you look like.

The guy standing there looked equally of a mess with his blond hair with dark roots in an array. He looked a little breathless, and you guessed he was running late.

The two of you stand there, looking at each other before the two of you start laughing.

"I'm Pietro, your marketing manager."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Pietro, the job had been done weeks ago. Why do you keep coming here?" You quirk your brow.

You and Pietro had hit it off quite well, getting to know each other as he helped you with advertising your clinic and services.

But it was professional. Except Pietro had kept coming even after everything was finished.

Monday it was coffee, Tuesday was lunch, Wednesday was dropping off a coffee and a bagel, and now it was Thursday, and he had come on his lunchtime again.

"I just wanted to see if you wanted to go for dinner," he smiles. 

You stand there, brow still quirked as you assessed him.

"Alright."

"Cool, how about 8 PM?"

You nod, and Pietro smiles and runs out the building again.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Dinner is a pleasant affair. 

He is flirty but respectful. He holds doors and chairs open for you but doesn't make a move to grab your hand or try to get closer.

Pietro is talking about his plans to see his sister next weekend when you interrupt him.

"Do you keep coming by my office because you're interested in me?"

It's blunt, but you rather be straight forward about it.

Pietro stops his story, mouth still open before closes it sheepishly.

"No," he admits, "I actually wanted to set you up with my sister."

"Pass," you say immediately.

"What!" Pietro says. "C'mon, you guys would be a perfect match."

"Not interested in dating," you tell him as you eat your food, more relaxed that it's not a date.

Pietro groans and you laugh a bit before he starts eating again.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Even after your blunt rejection, Pietro still comes by the office to pester you into getting lunch.

He lectures you that you can't skip it even if you're busy and lists all the things that could happen to you if you don't eat.

"Cancer? Really?" You say to him.

"Everything causes cancer," he tells you seriously.

"Wouldn't that mean that even eating can cause cancer?" You argue back at him.

"Exactly," he says seriously, "If we're all going to get cancer regardless, you should eat and have a full stomach at least."

You laugh, a weird familial warmth filling the pit of your stomach.

"You seriously haven't changed," you tell him.

"What do you mean?" He asks you.

You roll your eyes, but you don't expect him to remember.

"Pietro Maximoff, track and field captain, while also the student council president. The guy everyone wants to be friends with."

Pietro's mouth dropped.

"We went to the same university?" He says excitedly. "You do know my sister too then!"

"Yeah, she's really nice," you say while you look down at the ground with your hands shoved in your pocket.

"Nice?" Pietro snorts. "No one ever says that about her."

You chuckle.

"She beats up bullies, so she's automatically nice even if she seems like the equivalent to a cactus."

"So, you're saying you will go on a date with her!" Pietro says excitedly.

"Are you deaf? Nowhere in what I said says I'll go on a date with her."

"But you just said she's nice!" Pietro whines. 

"I also said she's the equivalent to a cactus."

"Wanda's really wonderful, trust me."

You merely hum.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It's a little weird, you admit. Having someone like Pietro who goes out of his way to spend time with you.

People ask all the time if you're dating, but Pietro always laughs it off and says that you're like family to each other.

"I'm her big brother!" 

"You're only two months older," you would always say in response.

"God, you're like Wanda. Older is older," Pietro would joke. 

He talks about Wanda a lot. You can tell he clearly adores her. You're not sure you really understand sibling bonds because of your own brother.

But Pietro talks as if he would move mountains for her, and talks like Wanda wouldn't hesitate to take a bullet for him.

"Is that piece of shit calling you again?" 

You look away from your phone screen to Pietro's scowling face. 

He knows everything about you.

He knows that your brother has been trying to get back in touch with you.

"Yeah," you sigh as you put your phone down and sit back in your chair. You have 30 minutes to relax before your next patient comes.

Your brother had seen you in an online advertisement and has been calling your workplace. You picked up the phone one, talked to him briefly before he started saying how he needed cash.

You haven't picked up the phone since.

"You should just let me pick up the phone and tell him to fuck off," Pietro glares at the offending phone.

"You have a lot of free time," you say to him in response. 

"I'm a director now, hell yeah, I have lots of time," Pietro laughs. 

The two of you banter some more when the receptionist tells you your appointment is here.

Pietro smiles at you before he walks out of the office with you following him.

Except, at the front desk, you see your brother standing there.

"What the hell," you mutter under your breath.

"What are you doing here?" You say to him.

"Miss, that's your appointment," the receptionist tells you. 

"My appointment is supposed to be with a Leon--" You groan because he used a fake name to book the appointment.

"You need to get the hell out of here, Jake," you glare at him.

"I just need 5 minutes to talk, don't you want to talk after all this time?" Jake frowns at you.

You want to make a scene, but this is your workplace, so you drag Jake into your office with Pietro right on your heels.

"No, I don't want to talk or catch up. Why would I want to catch up with someone who left me at an orphanage?" You hiss at him.

"I was 18!" Jake defends himself. "I couldn't even take care of myself, let alone you. I left you for the best."

You scoff at the response.

"And what? You want to catch up now? Or is this about the cash you said you needed."

Jake is quiet.

"I just need a loan," he says instead.

There's a scoff in the background.

The two of you look over to see Pietro there looking at Jake in disgust.

"What's your problem?" Jake glares at him. "Get out of here, this is family business."

"I am family," Pietro says in return.

"With family like me, she doesn't need your ass around here," Pietro pulls out his checkbook from the inner chest pocket of his suit jacket.

"Take this, and get the fuck out of here. If you ever come back around here without her wanting you around, I'll sue you," Pietro threatens, ripping out a cheque and shoving it into Jake's hand.

You catch the numbers as your eyes widen.

It was $10,000.

Jake's eyes are wide too, but he looks at Pietro once more before looking at you.

"Deal," Jake says and leaves.

"Fucking dick," Pietro mutters as Jake leaves the building.

"What the hell, Pietro!" You yell at him.

"Why did you give him $10,000?"

"Because jerks like that will keep coming around until they get what they want. Or until their legs are broken, but I don't know anyone who can do that for me. Yet."

You stare at him in disbelief, but he just laughs and pulls you in for a hug.

"$10,000 is nothing to make sure my little sister isn't hurt."

You denied it when Pietro asked you later if you were crying.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"You should show up here. At 7 PM."

You look at Pietro.

"Are you trying to set me up with your sister again?"

"No. Yes. Maybe," Pietro answers.

"Give it up, man," you shake your head at him.

He talks about Wanda all the time. You admit you're a little intrigued by her. But only because Pietro spins her in such a wonderful light, even when he tells you stories of when she's being an asshole.

"My sister is going to die alone with a cat, have some sympathy, and meet her. I guarantee you'll want to lock her down. I'm convinced she's your soulmate," Pietro determinedly keeps going.

"Why are you convinced of that?" You quirk your brow.

"Because she's prickly, you're super nice and patient, and I can't explain it anymore, just meet her!" Pietro whines.

You laugh.

"Well, I'll actually be traveling to Europe next month for a volunteer experience there for some less fortunate kids who need counseling. But, I'm not opposed to meeting her when I'm back. No guarantees, though, and on one condition."

"What's that?" He asks you excitedly.

"I want her yearbook, and when I meet her, I'll give it back," you tell him.

"Why do you want her yearbook?" He asked confusedly.

"I never got to write in it," you tell him.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"That was the last time I got to see him. He died while I was in Europe."

Wanda knows because she was in the car accident too.

She opens her yearbook and sees an added message on the back, the only other writing in it other than Pietro's.

Wanda,

You may not recognize me, but I wanted to say thank you, for all those years ago, for sticking up for me and getting my things back.

Sincerely,

The girl you saved.

There was a picture there, and Wanda flipped it over. She sees a picture of you back in university, with a familiar dirty backpack.

"When I saw you at the bridge...I just couldn't let you die. You were someone Pietro loved so much. I--"

"Did you blame me?"

Wanda saw a flash of guilt through your eyes.

"I did at first. I hated you at first. You were his family. He loved you so much, he loved me like family, and now he's gone."

Small things over the past few months pass through Wanda's head. Like how you talked as if you new Pietro, trying to get her to not blame herself.

She listened to the words, a dull ache in her chest because the truth felt like you had blamed her too, and she deserved it.

"But...Pietro was right. I met you, got to know you, and everything Pietro told me about you was right. I couldn't blame him for trying to set me up with you."

What a small word, Wanda thought. 

And you were begging.

"Please don't hate me."

But Wanda merely closed the yearbook and opened her arms so you could dive into her comfort.

Because even though you had blamed her, hated her at first, you still saved Wanda. You still stuck around, cleaned her mess up, loved her even when she was awful to you. 

You took in all her imperfections, loved her, and let her love you.

"You are my soulmate," you confess her to, lips quivering.

"Pietro always had a way of taking care of his family. I asked him at the funeral for help, and he gave me you," Wanda whispered.

Your tears stopped at Wanda's calming words. She pulled back, cupping your face as her thumb wiped your tears.

"I love you," she insists. "I'm never letting this hand go."

She holds up your hand, pressing her lips to the painted red string around your wrist.

"I was lost, but you found me. I'm never letting you go."

PART X

[bubble-tea-bunny]

until the night collapses

[leon s kennedy x reader]

author’s note: leon is hella good looking in the remake and my eyes have been blessed

word count: 3,056

Driving through rain, especially at night, always warrants extra caution. As such, Leon’s foot is steady on the gas, having been cruising at a comfortable speed for the past several miles. The roads have been mostly devoid of traffic, though he had passed one or two cars going the other direction. It’s an emptiness he’d considered a little strange at first, but he’s quick to brush it off. He’s just glad he doesn’t have to worry about anyone tailing him before swerving to the opposite lane to pass. A downpour still wasn’t enough for some people to slow down. But when he pulls into the Mizoil gas station to fill the tank, he learns the rain is the least of his problems.

It’s a hell of a first day, that’s for sure. He thought he was the only one at the station with a still beating heart (at least after watching an Arklay County officer get a nasty bite to the neck from… something, which left him good as dead) until Claire had shown up. A stroke of luck would have the keys still in the ignition of the police cruiser, and they were off.

If someone asked him what he would’ve expected his welcome to Raccoon City to be like, he couldn’t give a straight answer, but it definitely isn’t this. Abandoned cars are pulled over to either side of the street, and he drives through the open center, intended for emergency vehicles no longer anywhere in sight. Eventually even that’s blocked off, and in a fit of timing he struggles to say was good or not, the welcome committee arrives in the form of a fuel truck narrowly crushing the car to scrap metal. It kills any of the zombies trying to pry the doors open to get to him and Claire, but the force of the collision throws him forward, and his head collides with the steering wheel none too nicely. If he were to look into a mirror right now, he’d see a nasty bruise darkening on his forehead. He doesn’t need to see it to know it’s there, for light pressure applied to the offended area with the tips of his fingers and the ensuing throb let him know just as well.

This last hour had merely been the tip of the very large, very precarious iceberg. The fire caused by the cruiser exploding gave him no choice but to split up with Claire. Arriving at, and diving within, the museum turned police department is his personal journey down the rabbit hole, but this is no Wonderland on the other side. Or maybe it is and the author of the whole sick story had a fucked up sense of humor. But what did he know? If this was a book he was only a character, at the mercy of the words and whatever would follow with each turn of the page.

He’s seen more death and gore than anyone should have to see, and it’s a level of carnage he can’t help but recoil at. Being a police officer requires not only an iron will but an iron stomach, but he thinks he should be given a pass this time. Fighting his way through hordes of undead as he tries to find out what the hell is going on was not listed in the job description. When he’s trekking down what feels like the millionth dark corridor, blood and guts stuck to the bottom of his boots, he muses half with cynicism and half with fatigue, for it has been a long night, that maybe it’s because if it had been mentioned, no one would apply. And maybe there are some who would jump at the chance to play hero, but in the end logic wins out and prompts many of them to stay away, since it’s something else entirely to be thrown into the mess and realize one is vastly outnumbered, and against an enemy with nothing to fear.

At the west office, he cracks the first smile in what feels like an eternity. It’s a small one, followed closely by a quiet chuckle at the scene before him. Streamers dangle from the ceiling, and a banner stretches across from one wall to the other: Welcome Leon. He reads the note on his desk and feels a twinge in his chest. These were supposed to be his colleagues. Life would’ve been so different if the keep away message hadn’t been sent to him a week prior, if there hadn’t been a reason to stay out of the city and the wheels were still turning like they’re meant to.

He passes by one of the desks, and his flashlight passes over a nameplate with your name on it. Your workspace, much like the others here, is thrown in disarray. Papers are scattered and various trinkets you had to decorate the area are broken. There are sticky notes still stuck to the edge of the shelf attached to your desk, some of them quick reminders of tasks to do and others silly notes from your fellow officers.  

Cracked glass hidden in the shadowy corner grabs his attention, and he reaches a hand out for it. His fingers curl around a wooden frame, which he gingerly picks up, mindful of the sharp point of the glass. This must be you in the photo. You’re in a graduation uniform, diploma in one hand and your dog held in the other. It’s not looking at the camera, but rather up at you, who smile widely, a toothy grin that reaches your eyes. The time stamp in the bottom right corner indicates this is a recent photo.

There’s so much personality at your desk, and in your bright gaze captured forever in a picture, that for a moment he swears he feels less alone. He feels like he knows you. Maybe he’d be one of the officers to write small notes to tack to your desk, or maybe you would do that to his. Maybe he would’ve met your dog. What’s its name, he wonders?

With a sigh he sets the frame back down, and reality rushes back, and he hopes he won’t see your body laying around somewhere, discarded and almost unrecognizable. Chances are high that you’ve been infected and haven’t survived, but all the same, he doesn’t want to come across you. He’s not sure why he wants to grasp so tightly onto the image of your smile, and to not allow it to be tainted by visions of a corpse. Perhaps it’s because it’s his last hold to something humane, to something that could help retain his sanity in the midst of the chaos. Lieutenant Branagh had already succumbed to his wounds, and Claire was nowhere to be found. Leon doesn’t know if she’s still alive. So all that left was you.

Ada turning up proves he isn’t the only one remaining in the whole building with his wits still about him, and with his heart and brain in tact. She isn’t keen on sharing much information, and what little she divulges only raises more questions. He couldn’t have begun to guess what caused this shit storm. All of it sounds crazy, but judging by Ada’s tone, this is no tall tale.

They had stumbled upon Annette Birkin. There’s no better word for it. They train their guns on her, and Leon thinks to himself that she doesn’t seem threatening, and definitely not as dangerous as Ada had made her out to be. But maybe that’s how it goes. The most dangerous could be the least assuming. He doesn’t know to what lengths she will go to protect the G-Virus, but he’s not left speculating for long, for she brandishes her own gun and opens fire, and he doesn’t hesitate running towards Ada, shielding her and bringing them both to the ground.

The bullet in his shoulder registers as a low burn, and his vision is becoming hazy. It becomes difficult to ignore the pain, and he remembers telling Ada to go after Annette before passing out from shock. He hadn’t even been aware of the transition from consciousness to unconsciousness. He was simply awake, though weakening fast, and then he wasn’t.

Now he’s in a house, one he doesn’t recognize. The sun is shining outside, and his feet are carrying him through the hallway like they have a mind of their own, for he isn’t willing himself to walk. He just is. They bring him to a bedroom where the curtains are drawn back, the light flooding in a bit too intense to be normal. The edges of everything are out of focus and no matter how many times he blinks, they stay fuzzy.

I was wondering where you went. The figure in the bed sits up slightly to look at him better. Your hair is ruffled and you watch him with a sleep-riddled grin. He knows he should be surprised to see you there. None of this is adding up. This isn’t real. But he’s not deterred by any such thoughts as he smiles back like this is the way things always were.

He crawls beneath the sheets to join you, apologizing while he does. Sorry. At first he wasn’t certain if he actually was in control, or if he was only watching everything play out like a movie, like there was a script. But if it had at the start been the latter, it was now the former, as he starts to play along, eyes sliding closed as you lean in to kiss him. The spot where your lips meet is warm, and his arms curl around you to bring you closer.

Once you pull away, you murmur that you love him, and he feels his heart stop. He brings a hand up to caress your cheek, where a rosy flush has settled, and says he loves you too. This prompts you to smile that beautiful smile of yours, and it’s still just as captivating when tinged with fatigue. He runs his thumb across your bottom lip, smooth and plush, and he wants to kiss you again so he does.

In the back of his mind he knows this isn’t real, but God, he wishes it were. His fingers tangle in your hair, his free hand sneaking beneath the oversized shirt you wear to run along the heated skin of your waist, and everything feels fine. Everything feels perfect. He’s reminded of that saying, of one’s life flashing before their eyes, and he wonders if this is it. Or something close. Because this isn’t the past. He doesn’t know what it is. It would seem he had held on to you so securely that he’s started to dream of you. His stomach is doing flips like a cage of butterflies has just been let loose, and you’re smiling again, and it’s the flower they’re all searching for.

Are you okay? you inquire gently, brushing his hair from his eyes.

He stares into the depths of your own and they feel so much like home that he’s not pretending anymore. His chest is bursting with a love that feels too real to be mere imagination. And he starts to believe it, that life has always been this way, and would always be this way, and he’s just had a bad dream he won’t trouble you by sharing. He doesn’t want you to worry. Yeah, I’m okay.

Maybe this is his life flashing before his eyes, but it’s less about life in the sense of all the years gone by, and more about life in the form of a person, of the one who means the most to him. And despite knowing so little about you, his subconscious pulls at the image of you he stored away, bringing it to the forefront so that he’s convinced you are his life. That’s why he sees you now, and why he desperately clings on, to this blissful moment, suspended in time. He never wants to let go.

It’s also why he feels so helplessly hollow when he finally wakes—reluctantly, and with a heaviness closing in on his heart. He’s back in the cold corridor, back in the station, sitting up against the hard wall with Ada’s trench coat acting as a makeshift shock blanket and his injury wrapped with gauze stained dark red. You’re in his periphery, your warmth and your smile gradually fading away, and he’s thinking Don’t go or maybe he’s said it out loud, muttered to the air with a cracked voice.

They say things get worse before they better, but in this case, they get so bad Leon doubts there could be any improvement. He ventures lower underground, in pursuit of Annette and the G-Virus. He fights monsters he never thought could exist outside horror movies, and uncovers truths he had suspected but that he wanted to hope weren’t true at all. If Annette’s words were not sufficient confirmation, the fact he’s staring down the barrel of Ada’s firearm is.

Suddenly a gunshot rings through the air and a bullet sinks into Ada’s skin, but Leon hadn’t fired. Twisting around, he gets a short glimpse of Annette before the bridge collapses and the G-Virus sample tumbles down to the depths below, but Leon grabs Ada before she can fall too. Attempts to pull her up put stress on the already unstable bridge and it sinks to an even sharper angle, and he spits out a curse of frustration.

The two of them can’t remain like that forever, however, and he feels his hold slipping. Ada doesn’t look worried, wants him to let go because otherwise, they both die. It’s not worth it. But to Leon it is, and he knows she’d never understand why. He had to let go of you and leave you behind once he returned to consciousness, and it had hurt more than it should have. So perhaps he’s thinking of you as he holds onto Ada, for he doesn’t want to go through that again. This time, he won’t let go.

But reality is quite literally crashing down around them and the reality is he’s holding on to Ada, not you. And her wrist slides out of his grip, and she disappears in the darkness. He stares into the abyss, extending so far it’s like there is no end. His breaths come out rushed due to adrenaline, corners of his eyes pooling with tears refusing to fall, but there’s no time to mourn as he kicks himself into gear, standing and moving to steadier ground. The self-destruct sequence has begun. He doesn’t have long to get out.

His way of escape is at the bottom level of the lab, and he’s shooting his way through hordes of zombies when he hears it: echoes of another firing into the packs of undead. He follows it, thinking it’s Claire, but it’s not. He stops firing in his surprise, and he’s caught so off guard he’s unable to even exclaim your name in a quiet huff of disbelief under his breath.

You catch sight of him, and not letting yourself become distracted at finding someone else still alive in here, you call out The exit is up ahead! You haven’t noticed his shock, a second he spends looking like a deer caught in headlights, for you’re too preoccupied with other more urgent matters to have done so. Leon forces himself to look away and help take down the remainder of the zombies blocking the path. Past the exit door, the lights of a train begin flashing on the walls, and at the first opening, you sprint through, Leon following close behind.

His wider strides let him catch up to you, and he’s first to hop onto the train, grabbing the bar to swing himself up. Then he holds a hand out to you, stretching as far as he can. Come on! There’s an explosion and the building starts to crumble, and the strength of the blast pushes you forward. With a lunge, you thrust your arm out to grab onto his hand, and he pulls you up with the last bit of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Both of you collapse against the train car, breathing hard. Leon’s in rough shape, but you’re no better. You’re littered with cuts and bruises, your clothes are filthy, and your tied up hair is half falling out of the ponytail you had it in. It’s silent for a while as both of you calm down, and then Leon sneaks a glance at you. A part of him had still been skeptical that it could be true, that you’ve been alive this whole time, but it’s unmistakable. He’d burned that photo of you into his brain, and it’s a match, and he knows he’s not imagining you here next to him.

As though you can feel him staring, which you most probably do, you look over at him and meet his eyes. Now that you’re breathing normally again, you speak quietly, the fatigue finally setting in.

“Lucky we got out just in time.” You smile, and Leon’s heart is twisting to see it for real, and it’s more amazing than what he’d seen in the picture, or in his dream. He never wants you to stop looking at him like that. He wants to get lost in that gentle curve and in your soft gaze. After the hell he’s been through, he thinks he could fall asleep in them forever.

He chuckles. “Yeah, it is.”

He introduces himself and holds a hand out, and you tell him your name as you shake it. Without even fully realizing it, he’s grinning with a fondness that could only come from familiarity and a fulfilled longing, and he states Nice to meet you, [Name]. It’s really something to be saying your name out loud. It feels perfect on his tongue, his lips curling around each syllable with incredible care, like he’s reciting a prayer.

Maybe what he’d dreamed wasn’t what could’ve been; maybe it was what will be. And as the train rushes out of the ruined city and you drift off in well-deserved rest, head drooping to lean on Leon’s shoulder, he knows he’s already in love with you.

[gaygwenpool]

*slams fists on table* MYSTELEON

I knew you wouldnt disappoint! :D  tho you already know most of these lmaoo  lotsa credit to @herbofoo anyway, i dont remember which of these you came up with but Patchwork wouldnt be the same without your Good Good Content! (And of course thanks for all your patience as i cry about comics lmao)

I’ve lost all shame long since ive started shipping them so brace yourself for the self-indulgent cheese that is Chameleon/Mysterio in my Patchwork verse. (its reallly. really Melodramatic. i gave up all pretense.. also under the cut cuz its long..)

ask meme

Who cooks:

Mysterio! Although Chameleon is objectively The Superior Cook thanks to the long years of being a servant to picky russian nobility BUT exactly because of that, he really doesnt enjoy it, even less when cooking for others and not just himself. So it is usually Beck who prepares meals (that are not bad either, they are just simpler) but as often as they can, they eat out. That said, Cham is very well aware Quentin loves his cooking so sometimes, he makes them something. (Being sick isnt so bad when it means Chammy bringin you a big bowl of hot borscht :)

On the other hand, Cham has quite a sweet tooth which Q notices Fast and decides to learn how to bake. It took more effort and failed tries than it could have, mostly because he got cocky, how hard could this be and just. kept forgetting he put stuff in the oven.. But now he makes quite delicious cookies n cakes which make Dmitri almost tear up because tasty + Quentin baked something Specifically for him?? 

Who does the laundry and other chores:

Mysterio’s laundry is usually booby trapped so he has to clean it himself and he doesnt even let Cham near it. And he keeps forgetting gadgets in his civvies. Not to mention that again, for the same servant reason, Cham really doesnt enjoy house chores in general, so he usually just gets his own clothes cleaned somewhere else (especially since his fancy suits and even fancier gowns are the highest quality and delicate materials, he doesnt even Know how to clean them..) 

As for the rest of the chores, its pretty balanced, although Cham has more of an eye for things that needs to be cleaned up (and Beck already has cooking duties) so he does a tad more. 

How many children do they have + Any pets:

In my Patchwork universe there’s a whole Thing about Leon, the Chameleon of the Ultimate universe but I’ve tried to type up a short summary and failed, it’s a long story lmao ^^;; and anyway he isnt exactly their kid, he is just much younger than them and they ended up sorta mentoring him. 

However, they have Celavi, the escaped ex-spy beluga.(Yes, it started as a joke based on this post that accidentally grew more and more serious until @herbofoo and me were too attached to let it go) She counts pretty much as their adopted daughter that they both spoil to hell and back, I mean no surprise, she saved Cham’s life once and sometimes, she helps out with heists. (Mostly for the show, you should have SEEN the look on Spider’s face when a beluga splashed him. He is used to humanoid sharks, to Hydroman.. not like. real life beluga that LAUGHS at him) Beck’s voice: “Dont you dare to insult her, SHE IS PERFECT AND FLAWLESS and A GOODNESS INCARNATE!! -she is literally a deserted russian spy that was trained to gather everything that could be used to harm USA-yea, i have a soft spot for those ;)“

She was always surprisingly clever so she never really counted as a “pet” and at one point, she even bonds with a symbiote (together they are Vague, again long story ah ha). They dont talk but have quite some range of vocalisations so communication isnt a problem. 

Who’s more dominant: 

They both have pretty dominant strong personalities (ok chameleon’s a bit more complicated with that but like.) with big egos who dont like others questioning their superiority. (Of course not at the level of like Doc Ock etc, they are surprisingly flexible and good team players that can be willing to let someone else take the spotlight if they are Nice) But the whole point of their relationship is that neither of them is dominant over the other, they get enough of that literally everywhere else. It’s very reassuring to be so sure that they are on equal footing, cooperating, no hidden nooses around their neck. Especially in their line of work of course! 

(Also, for the other interpretation of this question: anythin remotely sexual happens Pretty Late in the story and both of them are somewhere on the ace spectrum so it doesnt happen that often but they are both verses tho Beck bottoms more)

Favorite nonsexual activity:

MOVIES!! Sprawled on the giant comfy couch, closer than technically needed, cuddling and watching old movies with great special effects and/or great actors! Listening to Beck excitedly rant through the most dramatic speech of the story as he explains how the next cliffhanger is done with hydraulics! Focusing so hard on the stars in his eyes and his excited tone and gestures and just the tone of his voice you forgot to listen to the words themselves! Watching Cham’s face flawlessly mimic the faces on the screen in a blink of an eye and secretly guessing which one will he pick next. Feeling his head slowly fall on your shoulder, eyes closed, his mask smooth but not tense, instead just.. peaceful. Slight ping of annoyance, after all, this is A Classic movie dammit, but it’s gone in a second because Mitya hasnt slept since thursday and you are just relieved he is finally getting his rest. Feeling his warmth under your hand on his shoulders and suddenly never ever wanting to get up again.. EHM. anyway

PLANING HEISTS TOGETHER!! and more or less successfully executing them but planning is actually even more fun aside from the Big Reveals and Entrances which are actually harder to coordinate than one would think! 

Lots of shobiz/job talk actually, they really enjoy what they do! Lots of people already mentioned that in their hc compilations but i agree, they love goin to see all kinds of movies and plays and performances as well as acting various scenes with one another!  

Their favorite place to be together:

NEW YORK CITY BABEYY. Sure they love to travel and see other countries (and cause mayhem there) but.. they love their mess of a city, it’s never the same without the webhead around as well as the bazillion of other heroes n villains bashin each other’s heads. 

Any traditions:

Oh so many pop culture references and inside jokes, oh my god. One time, they spent the entire heist (and its planning period) speaking strictly in famous movie lines and titles, Max and other sixers tried to join but didnt last too long :’D 

Beck also has a habit of taking pictures of people with Interesting faces or styles he sees and sends them to Cham. Also another fanon classic: together they have a running game, disguising themselves as moderately famous people and the other guessing who..

Their “song”:

‘This is me’ from the Greatest Showman, i just live for the two of them singin it in Cham’s car,off key but fully immersed and living it. 

What they do for each other on holidays:

Neither of them are religious but that doesnt stop Beck from going ALL OUT at any opportunity, Sin Six doesn’t do any heists around holidays because you Know he’d make them dress for the occasion or worse, write them themed lines…  They still meet for Christmas and Hanukkah and sometimes other holidays too because this is my AU and you can pry festivities-related shenanigans from my cold, cold hands. It’s always at Beck’s place tho because he can turn his hideout into the tackiest holiday-themed showcase but he aint roping them into it.  

On the other hand, Cham despises American commercialized holidays in general and Christmas time especially, since it’s not a big thing in Russia and  also once again, he has family issues for days. (Although relatively speaking, he is pretty over these, he is not gonna like mope around or anything) 

Anyway, what they do for each other is that they try to compromise, Dmitri doesnt sneer at stupid kitsch decorations every 5 minutes and Quentin ..chills a little. :’D To be fair, Beck makes everything fun and having Cham there makes Beck appreciate the details more instead of just goin into BETTER!BIGGER! frenzy.

Where did they go for their honeymoon:

After the fuckin Ages of pinning, when they finally end up together for realsies, they wanted somethin Big and Flashy! (Well Beck wanted and Cham kinda too but also with the option to merge with the crowd unnoticed and take some chill time) Anyway they went on a whole world wide tour! Starting with a luxury cruise, they took their time, lots of crime sprees to plan and execute, lots of local shows to see, lots of dumb heroes to fool, they’re gonna have it all! 

Where did they first meet:

Around the time when Cham and Hammerhead had their criminal empire running Fisk to the ground, Otto decided the Sin Six should team up with them for their ressources needed on one heist or something. They agreed but Cham insisted on actually going in the field, it’s been a while since he really stretched his face legs like this and the mafia life was starting to bore him. Doc made him team up with Mysterio much to the fishbowl’s dismay because why do they need another disguise artist?? He is the Master Of Illusions dammit, he can run circles around this guy, what the fuck Otto?? So at the start, he pouts and fumes under his helmet and in general he is his v unpleasant self but… He can’t help but notice that the new guy is a real professional, he even uses Traditional masks, he likes the same movies… And most importantly, he is actually interested in Mysti’s craft, asking questions and even LISTENING to his long winded answers… At one point he even wondered if that X thing was meant as a HOMMAGE to the Y movie, the Six never did that!! (Usually the rest of the sixers dont know the reference, heathens, and when they do, they mock him for it, that he’s copying ideas and mixin them ridiculously.  BUT THIS GUY GETS IT!!) So it doesn’t take long for them to hit it off, of course at this point without any real Trust behind it but it’s a start. 

(Though Beck does pay a visit to Otto like, buddy pal i know you’ve been planning on manipulating these crimelords to your end somehow and honestly, any other day i’d be down, i actually had a robot prepared for my own backstab but i was thinking they werent that bad and maybe we Could hold our end of the bargain this time and just. leave each other on good terms? Mabye? Obviously it’s purely out of respect for our teammate Kraven since him and Chameleon seem to have some history, nothing more, definitely nothing to do with how bright Cham’s eyes were when i was showing him the back of my stage… ) 

What do they fight over:

this whole post has been a mountain of cheese but im bringing more! Honestly, goin through my notes on Patchwork, their biggest arguments have always been about.. the other one not taking proper care of himself :’D Or them lashing out because they were scared and worried about the other and they cant stand being so vulnerable while the other pretends it’s not a big deal because they dont know how to handle genuine concern directed at them. 

Do they go on vacations, if so where:

GIVE!!! BECK!!!! HIS!!!! ISLAND!!!!!!They actually do have one, it’s where Celavi spends most of the time and they visit her often. But never for too long, neither of them can actually spend too long doing nothing.. 

[fanfic-and-ask-1p2phetalia]

Oliver and his children

In the heart of London there is a cute little cupcake shop that sells one of the best cupcakes in the United Kingdom. Everything in the shop is pastel coloured, from the decoration to the cupcakes.

If you were to ask any of the shop's customers what they think of the owner, they would describe him as the kindest man they know and he always have bright smile on his face.

But to the underground world of crime he is not a man you want to cross. For generations the Kirkland family has held the crown of criminals in Britain and it is a fact that has not changed. Well...maybe there are a few changes. You see, the Kirkland family has always only ruled Britain's underbelly but when the family business was handed to Oliver he decided to build a criminal empire all over the world. But to do that he needed people he trust in each country to run it for him.

The first country he got his hands on is France, the Bonnefoy family has always worked closely with the Kirkland family and their leader is more than happy to hand over power to the Kirkland family.

With François's help they kidnapped children with broken families and give them a loving home. Oliver made sure his children had been fully trained before giving them a group of his men and the country they are to take over.

Allen and Matt are the ones he is the most proud of, they mercilessly murdered all the crime bosses in their country and anyone who opposed them in less than a year. While making sure that their turf stays in their possession, but then again the two of them were never very good at sharing, even with each other, so it is no wonder they would never let anyone take what is theirs. But they are willing to share with Oliver, mainly because he is the one who saved them from an abusive house and raised them with love.

Which is why he trust them them to succeed in this important mission. Nine months ago he was drugged by one of Xiao Wang's guard when he was visiting Leon, that guard is a spy for Kuro Honda and she on the run with something that belongs to him.

He was angry when he woke up, he thought Leon had betrayed him to Xiao Wang until he saw how furious the two Chinese were. It seems that the two of them have grown closer even though Leon had taken Hong Kong from Xiao Wang, Xiao Wang see Leon as a little brother and Leon look up to him as a big brother. It means the relationship between China and Britain is stronger than before, they had signed an alliance between their organisation.

Xiao Wang had offered to help Oliver find her but he politely turn his offer down so he can put Allen and Matt to the test. It took them nine months but they finally found her and is on their way back with his precious baby and the thief.

Oh he is so excited! He has raised many children but none of them are his by blood and now he is about to meet his own flesh and blood! As angry as he is with the thief she is the mother of his baby so he will personally kill her, but he does allow his boys to rough her up a little.

François had left about half an hour to pick them up and also check on his baby as soon as they landed, he is so glad he managed to get François to get a medical degree, it is always nice to have a doctor hanging around the house especially when he is raising children. He can't bring any of his children to the hospital and it is unacceptable for him to call one of the doctors he hired, he refuse to leave his children untreated for the amount of time it'll take for the doctor to get to his house.

They would be back soon and he really should finish preparing lunch for his family. He is just so nervous, he has never taken care of a newborn baby before, all his other children are all old enough to walk and talk when he took them home with him.

What if he mess up? What if his baby grow up to hate him? Oh God should he had left his baby with the thief and save his baby just like the rest of his children? What if his own flesh and blood grows up to hate him? What if-

He was cut off by a hockey stick slamming down onto the countertop, scarring him and he almost dropped the spoon he was holding.

"Are you alright, Oliver? I've been calling you for a while now and you didn't answer me, are you sick?" Matt asked as he tries to keep the worry off his face, hey badass or not he would always have a soft spot for the Englishman who took him and his brother in and never given up on them or separate them like so many had tried.

Oliver smiled nervously as he look up at Matt. "Oh, no worries, Love. I'm perfectly fine, just a little nervous about the baby. I've never taken care of one before..."

"You are the best dad in the world and the baby is going to be loved and spoilt by you." Matt leans down and gently kiss Oliver's forehead. "Now quit worrying and come out to meet your demon spawn, that kid refuses to sleep and would cry if any of us try to sleep."

Oliver giggled softly as he nod his head. "Alright, I'll take care of my little angel while the three of you get some rest. And by the way, the poor dear is most probably only crying when you're asleep because the three of you tend to snore pretty loudly." He said teasingly as he follow Matt to the living room.

The corner of the Matt's mouth lift slightly as they enter the living room. "You know you love it, you've never liked a quiet house. Which is most probably why you ask us over so often."

"I just miss you dears, the two of you are my first children and you'll both always have a special place in my heart."

"Stop with the mush and take the kid!" Allen hissed as he push the baby into Oliver's arms. "François is in the basement chaining up that bitch."

"Language Allen!" Oliver frowned as he cuddles his baby close to his chest. "The both of you visit often and I don't want that kind of language around a child." He scold lightly.

"You don't want us to use that kind of language at all." Allen muttered as he follow his brother up to their rooms.

Oliver smiled softly as he shake his head before looking down at his baby.

The baby look a lot like the thief, black hair, almond shaped dark brown eyes and the only visible trait that shows the world that this baby is his is the Kirkland family's traditional thick eyebrows.

He look down at the curious baby with loving eyes. "Hello, Love. I'm your daddy and I'm going to love and protect you from now on." He said softly as he gently stroke the baby's soft cubby cheek. "As for your name, I was thinking Regina if you're a girl and Rex if you're a boy because one day you'll rule the world with your siblings by your side. You'll love them, and I know that they'll love you too. I can see that Matt is already fond of you." He said as he head upstairs to the nursery he had set up to see François waiting for him inside.

"He needs to gain a bit of weight but other than that he is healthy." François said before Oliver can open his mouth.

"He? So he's a boy?" He asked as he gently lay the baby, Rex, down on the changing table so he can start dressing him up in cute clothes.

"Oui. And I found something interesting about his mother, it seems that she's not only Kuro Honda's spy but also his lover. It seems the plan was to raise the kid as their own and use it against you when he's older." François said lazily as he lean against the wall with his arms crossed, while the boys were searching for them François has been busy digging up the thief's dirty little secrets.

"Because they know I would never hurt one of my children." Oliver growled softly as pink and madness mixed in with his baby blue eyes, another family trait.

Rex look up at Oliver in awe as he watch the beautiful colours in his father's eyes and reach his arm up in an attempt to touch his face.

Oliver chuckle darkly as he dress Rex in a onesie with cute ducklings printed all over it. "You're going to help Daddy destroy his enemies when you're older, aren't you? My sweet little Cupcake~ You'll fit in well with your siblings~" He purred as he cradled his son closely.

Rex smiled up at his father and gently pat his cheek before yawning cutely.

"Looks like it's time for you to go to bed." Oliver kiss Rex on his forehead lovingly before gently laying him in his crib. "Sweet dreams, My sweet Cupcake." He hum softly while stroking Rex's hair gently under her falls asleep. "You're too cute~" His grin grows wider and darker as he look down at his sleeping son for awhile longer before turning to François. "Shall we?~"

François nod his head as he push himself off the wall, he wonders how long the trash in the basement would last against Oliver. Most probably not for very long as no one chained in Oliver's basement had ever lasted for more than a few days, and that has only happened to a few people, most of them lose their lives in less than 24 hours.