#re 2 remake fic

[winksasleeplesseye]

File #005 - Night Music

City of the Dead

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x OC

Word Count: 3.6k

Fandom: Resident Evil

Warnings: Financial abuse, verbal, slight domestic abuse

Summary: Amara has a slight bit of thinking on her past and what got her to become a cop, she questions Leon’s motives just the same as they make their way through the city.

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1995

Was it possible for a heart to drop through your asshole to your feet? Your stomach to lurch so violently that it’d come out your mouth alongside the vomit?

Amara does, quite frankly too well, and what had occurred since this morning is more than the straw that broke the camel’s back. 

Her mother constantly made excuses for her father, saying he’d lived a tough life and that with support, he could be helped. But, how could she say that knowing that he had stolen money from his own flesh and blood to support his vices? And this wasn’t the first time either, other times the amounts had been small, nothing Amara couldn’t handle but now, it was different.

Even for someone at her young age, knew better and wouldn’t be around to do that. How could she be around to support the very same person who had hurt her? 

Her small semblance of stability, her control had been rocked so easily. She never wanted to feel as frantic and shattered as she did that morning at the bank. 

The teller eyed her with so much sympathy, or was it pity? Her heart almost seemed like a frog ready to jump from her throat as she backed away from the counter, the floor beneath her swaying a tad as she had to make a dash to the car before anyone could even ask her if she was alright. 

She had never sped back so fast to the base, in the loaner car they always switched out at each new base.

She pulled up to the blue-clad house on a street practically hidden by the cover of trees. An aspect her mother told her the construction company did to give the houses a sense of “normalcy”. Amara didn’t exactly think it gave anything close to normal.

This had been the longest they’d stayed anywhere, thankfully in the United States this time. Monet had moved on only a year ago, college certainly gave her a great excuse to stay in one place. 

Amara loved some aspects of being out of the country but the US had way more things she was more familiar with. 

For one thing, now that they were in California, Amara felt that she could breathe.

Amara never really bothered to learn the actual name of the place they lived, too much of an attachment always made it harder when they inevitably left. But still, she couldn’t help the indelible yet brief mark she knows it’ll leave. 

The city outside the base is not too big, not too small, it’s just right, her Mom would comment. Like Goldilocks. The city sits beside the sea, its own soft sand beach that would rush against the shore. It used to be a tourist attraction before it became overrun with more military personnel. 

Amara would sometimes wish she could stay forever, just letting the sun beat down on her skin, instead of just savoring every moment here considering how fleeting it could be. 

She barely gave care to the car as she practically jumped out without fully making sure it was in park. Rushing past her mother, trying not to let her in on what she was doing. The last thing she needed was to make her mother match her frantic energy. She quietly tore through her parents’ room, she’d learned early where her father tried to hide things. 

When she was seven, while on base in Sydney, he’d make it a point to make a game out of hiding things for her and Monet to look for. It was fun then, hiding silly things like candy and toys, now she was more frantic, afraid her heart would pound out of her chest. 

Amara thanked the powers that be that in his old age, he’d become so predictable. Her money, every cent, is laid out in the bedside table drawer in a secret compartment. 

Last time, she hadn’t been so lucky. But that time wasn’t damn near all her savings. 

Savings she’d been working to fill since she was 15, every odd job, waitress gig, or even errands she ran for others around the bases had gotten her that much. 

“Thank goodness.” A sigh of relief pushes past her lips, a weight had temporarily been lifted as she counted it all. 

At that moment, her mind had been made up, she’d leave and never come back. 

At the same time, she had a ball of anxiety lodged in her sternum, how would she survive? Moving from place to place is all she had ever really known. No, she shakes her head at that, fighting against the voice in her head that instilled her fear of the unknowns. 

She tiptoed from the room, heading to hers. 

“This is crazy,” Amara quietly said to herself, as she looked around her room. Her haven for the past few months. It’s not like she isn’t weighing the pros and cons despite fending herself off from the voice in her head yet again about every wrong thing that could happen. 

What if this happened, what if that happened, what if you ruined your life with one impulse decision and ended up homeless or worse? Amara winces as if someone had slapped her at that thought. 

She threw just about everything she had into backpacks and suitcases, something she’d always been too familiar with. Amara had never quite gotten to a point where she could just unpack everything. Both literally and figuratively. 

—-

Amara wrestled with her decision, wrestling so long that it had now gotten dark outside. Maybe she needed to sleep it off, and have a clear head in the morning.

She went through the usual evening routine with her Mom, setting out the table since the latter so graciously made them all dinner but her Dad was nowhere in sight. She doesn’t exactly consider that an improvement–but it was better than him sitting in a darkened living room in front of the TV, blinds drawn against the beautiful California sunshine and a certain funk permeating the air. “Thanks again, Mom.”

“What, honey?” Her mom blinks and turns her full attention to Amara as she turns off the sink, smiling vaguely. “Could you say that again?” Amara wanted to slap herself for even attempting to talk to her at the same time as the running water, something that was, unfortunately, kind of broken. Something that her father continuously put off fixing, much like everything else. 

“I was just saying thanks for dinner.” 

“Ah, it’s the least I could do. Did you get everything figured out?” Her mother asks.

Amara furrowed her brow. “Huh? With what?” Was her mom already onto her? 

“With the bank this morning? I know you went out and came back, you seemed pretty tense.”

Amara waved it off, putting on her best nonchalant act. “Ah, was nothing crazy. Everything’s good.”  

“Good, good.” Her mother smiled, throwing her a mischievous look but something in her eyes made Amara feel like she didn’t completely buy it. “Now, do you think you can grab me some ingredients for a pound cake? I’d let you do it but you’d burn the house down.”

“Hey!” Amara gasped, a little offended. She wasn’t that bad a cook! So what if she burned mac and cheese once? One time isn’t enough to say she’s a bad cook. 

She does as she asks, grabbing the items and setting them out but her stomach rumbled just looking at the actual food they’d have for dinner. Her mother is a miracle worker with every ingredient and within 20 minutes, the mixture is already in the oven. 

“Let’s get started,” her mother lightly pushed her to the dining room table, “don’t want the food to get cold, do we?” 

Amara sat at the dinner table, watching her mother carefully as she served the food. Off in the distance, she heard a car door slam and could tell trouble was brewing. She couldn't help but now notice the way her mother's hands were shaking, a sign of the anxiety that had become all too familiar in their home.

Just as they were about to start eating, the front door slammed shut, and heavy, stumbling footsteps made their way toward the bedroom. Amara already knows what exactly he planned to do, come in for the money and head back out. But not this time. 

"Hey, what's going on?" Her father slurred, looking around the room with bleary eyes as he came in unceremoniously. If he was angry, Amara couldn't exactly tell but that doesn’t stop her from being on edge. 

Amara didn't answer, but her mother spoke up. "It's dinner time, dear. Why don't you come to join us?"

"I don't feel like eating," her father said, but he still sat down at the table regardless and her mother prepared him a plate anyways. Couldn’t he do that himself? Her eyes focused on the food on her plate as she quietly ate but she could practically feel her father’s eyes searing into the top of her head. It was clear that the night was going to take a turn for the worse.

The tension in the room is palpable. The scent of alcohol reeked throughout the room, there was no denying where the scent was emanating from either. Amara glanced at her mother, who looked like she was anywhere but there. Clearly, she wasn’t going to address the elephant in the room, more likely for her own sanity. 

She just wanted to get through dinner without any incidents.

But it wasn't meant to be. Cutting through the offensively loud silence, Amara's father suddenly turned to her and said, "You think you can just take whatever you want, huh? That money was mine!"

The nerve of him! His money? 

Amara’s pulse pounded in her ears like a bass drum, drowning out everything else around her. She felt her breathing quicken and her hands begin to shake as her blood boiled with rage, immediately standing up from the table. "It was my money, Dad! I earned it!"

Her mother spoke up, "Oh, stop it, both of you. Can't we have one nice dinner without all this fighting?"

Amara shot her mother a withering look. "You always defend him, even when he's clearly in the wrong. For fuck sake, he stole from his own daughter! What are you gonna defend him for next? Murder?” 

That's when her father snapped. He grabbed Amara by the arm and shoved her into the wall. "Don't you ever talk to your mother like that again," he snarled.

Amara had had enough. “Fuck you,” She pushed him out of her way, no longer afraid of him as she had grown to be. As she returned to the living room with her packed bags in tow, her father's rage boiled over.

"You little brat," he spat, lunging towards her. "I'll teach you some respect."

Amara backed away, preparing to grab something to defend herself if necessary. Her mother tried to intervene, but her father continued to yell and curse, his anger escalating by the second. When he finally threatened them both, Amara knew that she had to take action.

She ran for the phone, her heart racing. "I'm calling the police," she said, her voice shaking with anger.

Her father laughed. "Go ahead, call them. They won't do anything."

But Amara was determined. She grabbed the phone and dialed 911, explaining the situation to the operator. As she spoke, she could hear her father's angry words in the background, and her mother's feeble attempts to calm him down.

When the police arrived, her mother defended her father, telling the officers that he had just had too much to drink and that everything was fine. But Amara knew better. She had seen this all before with things on TV, and she knew that it was only a matter of time before her father's small act of anger turned into more violence. 

This was the first time it had ever escalated to that level, a part of her, while putting on a brave face, had never been as shocked as she was at his actions. Over money that wasn’t his, no less. 

The officers handled the whole situation and cared more than she really ever thought they would. Something about it made her not feel so helpless in everything, she wanted to do that for others somehow. 

As the police left, Amara made a final, final decision. She would leave this toxic environment and never look back. It was time for her to make her own way in the world, and she was determined to do it on her own terms.

—-

September 30, 1998.

From that point on, Amara could never really put much stock into anyone. That whole situation really wasn't about the money but really the principle of it all. Losing family and friends in many different ways had made her so afraid of actually caring for others. 

Amara always likened it to shedding your skin and baring your heart, opening someone up to every vulnerability, every vein, every pulse that pumped through it. And every single thing that had occurred had been like someone had taken that very same beating heart and thrown it to the cold, hard floor. 

But then, she ended up here right out of the academy. Raccoon City. She got this job and met people who showed that maybe it wasn’t so bad to bare your heart and rely on others. That people could be tight-knit, an actual family without the mess, and have your back.

Showed her that she could rise above her circumstances and be better. 

And now, even though most were gone, she still tried to be better and was better for having known them. 

She pondered on these things briefly in the moments of silence between the three of them. She straggled behind Leon and Ada, looking at the city streets and what had become of them in such a short amount of time.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the window of a restaurant she had been to before, and usually, she’s never one to be too hard on herself, but Jesus, she’d seen better days. 

Her hair stuck to her skin, no thanks to the endless rain, and would more than likely be unruly when it dried. But on the bright side, it did offer some cleansing of the grime she’d accumulated, though she was sure that her leather jacket, turtleneck, and jeans could never be worn again after tonight. They’d probably be soaked through forever now.

“Road’s out, we’ll have to cut through that shop.” Ada’s voice cuts through her thoughts. The very sinkhole that Ben had mentioned lay before them. 

Leon stood at its very edge, looking down at the scaffolding and things of that nature. Amara joins him, no real or particularly interesting thoughts on what’s down in it but she can’t help but say what comes to her mind first, “Big ass hole.” 

He starts laughing, probably at the absurdity.  “Anything you could’ve said and that’s the best you’ve got?” 

“I mean…my brain is more than a little fried right now, so yes.” Amara starts to laugh with him. She doesn’t miss Ada’s shake of her head as she worked on the lockpicking but she really didn’t care, she needed to laugh at something to keep from going insane. 

“Fair enough.”

“So, I guess it’s my turn to ask you something, what really got you into wanting to become a cop?” 

“You sure you wanna know?” 

“No, I don’t give a shi-yes, I want to know, Leon!” She lightly jabs him in the shoulder. 

Leon took a deep breath before answering. “Ever heard of the Garcetti family?” 

“In passing, go on.” 

“Well, I’m not sure of all of the details since I was just a kid, but I only assume my parents must’ve gotten in bad with the family…long story short, that night I became an orphan.” Leon gives her a strained smile, almost like he didn’t just tell her the most heart-wrenching thing you could tell anyone. 

Her eyes widened in surprise just thinking about it. “Shit, Leon.” 

Leon doesn’t exactly seem to let on at first glance that he’d been through something of that magnitude but Amara is someone who always kind of thinks–thought people lived one story, but after everything, she’s become wise enough to realize people are more than they appear to be.

Leon shrugged. “It’s nothing…—don’t give me that look-“ 

“I’m sorry, Leon. That just really sucks.”

“Yeah well, you asked.” Leon points out. That is a fair point on his end. “If it hadn’t been for the officer that night who protected me, I wouldn’t be standing here today. He’s part of the reason why I felt drawn to it all. It was a long time ago, but I always carry that with me.” 

Amara nodded, understanding. “I get that, somewhat. My dad was in the military, we moved around a lot. I didn’t exactly have the most stable home or many friends growing up. So when I was 18, I joined the academy to get away from it all.”

She went on. “It wasn’t easy, but it was a way for me to have some control over my life and certainly drove me to want to help others in a way that I hadn’t been afforded. That’s part of why I ended up with S.T.A.R.S.” 

Amara smiled softly, thinking of the team once more, even though it was for a short time, they were the first people in a long time that made her feel like she belonged somewhere. 

There was a comfortable silence between them until Ada called them over, finally managing to get the door opened. 

It’d been a while since she’d been to Kendo’s Gun Shop, it wasn’t exactly everyday that she needed a new supply of guns, or ammo, she had plenty at the station at one time or another. 

She and the whole team knew him well enough, she had even gotten the chance to meet his family at one point this past spring. Amara could only hope they’d made it out. 

The shop is completely ransacked, shelves tipped over and shards of glass from the display cases strewn about the floor. If someone were to ask what exactly chaos looked like, this was definitely one of the images Amara would conjure up. 

“Ugh, what a mess,” Ada comments, searching the shelves for extra ammunition. 

In the name of self-preservation, Amara does the same, placing whatever she could into her hip pouch. Moving deeper into the store, suddenly a shotgun cocked and Amara turned to find that Leon is held at gunpoint. 

“Don’t move,” Kendo threatens, his face contorted in fear as Amara quietly peered around the corner of the shelf. She didn’t want to get too jumpy, especially in what had quickly escalated to a tense situation.  

“I’m just passing through, I’m gonna ask you to lower that weapon,” Leon speaks calmly, looking forward, probably just as mindful not to set Kendo off. 

“Like hell you are, you’re gonna turn around and go right back out the way you came in.” 

Amara crouches low, tiptoeing over shards of glass nearing the two of them. If anyone could talk him down, she hopes it’s her. 

"Kendo, it's me," Amara calls out, hoping to calm the panicked man. "We don’t want any trouble."

In the momentary second that Kendo turns his attention to her voice, Leon is quick to turn on him, aiming his gun at him. Amara and Ada both emerge from the shadows, guns already aimed and ready. Kendo looked frayed and exhausted, with bloodshot eyes and a crazed expression. Amara noticed the shotgun was shaking in his hands as he tried to keep it trained on Leon.

Amara can see that Kendo's daughter Emma is standing nearby, her eyes sunken and her skin paler than usual. She knows that Emma is turning, yet Kendo still protected her despite the futility of it. 

"Kendo, lower it," Amara says calmly, taking slow steps forward. "Just like the man said, we’re just passing through.” 

Kendo hesitates for a moment, his finger still on the trigger of the shotgun. Amara sees the fear in his eyes, the fear that's driving him to protect his daughter at all costs.

"Please, Kendo," Amara continues, keeping her voice steady. "We're not the enemy here.”

Kendo hesitates for a moment, his eyes darting between the three of them. Slowly, he lowers his gun, allowing Amara to approach him. Amara can see the relief on Leon's face as he lowers his own gun.

As they talk with Kendo, Amara can't help but feel a sense of sadness and desperation. They're all just trying to survive, to hold on to some semblance of normalcy in a world gone mad. And yet, the odds seem to be against them. It’s at this point that Amara lets it sink in just how many people had been impacted by this, innocent people. 

By the conversation’s end, Amara’s sure none of them feel any better about everything thus far. 

“You know,... it’s one thing to keep the truth from us, but why him?” Leon turns on Ada, a determination in his voice. 

A lone gunshot sounds off from behind the door, and Amara’s heart drops. Please, don’t let there be another shot. 

“I want to stop this. Protecting people like them? That’s why I joined the force.”

Ada turns squarely to Leon. “My mission is to stop Umbrella’s whole operation, we may not make it out.” 

Leon’s response proves to Amara that he was destined for this. “Whatever it takes to save this city, count us in.” 

[galaxy-fleur]

˗ˏˋ Thoughtful Care ˎˊ˗

Pairing: RE2R!Leon/gn!reader. Summary: After escaping the hell on Earth that was Racoon City, you are now stuck in a dingy motel room that will be your safe haven for the time being. As you and your little group try to get your bearings together, you get a chance to spend some much-needed alone time with Leon after your eventful night together. As it turns out, tending to one's wounds is a more intimate experience than you thought. Word Count: <17k words; AO3 link. Notes: One use of Y/N, switching POV, some mutual pining, kissing, you take care of Leon's wounds, brief discussion of Ada, Claire and Sherry cameo. Credit: divider by @/saradika-graphics.

Life is a mysterious thing. You haven't ever considered yourself to be someone particularly special. You were always just an ordinary person, with a pretty ordinary life, and ordinary problems someone your age would typically be dealing with. You never once thought of that as something worthy being upset about. Being ordinary meant having your life in order. It meant that your daily routine was comfortable for you. Pleasant. Safe. Small daily problems that keep your mind occupied are really not appreciated enough. There is a very fragile feeling of peace in worrying over not being late to work tomorrow, or what to buy for lunch.

A very fragile feeling of peace that was forever broken for you in a single, horrible night.

You definitely never anticipated yourself to end up in the middle of some deadly outbreak straight out of a horror movie. Sure, you may have joked around with friends on how you would do in a horror story once or twice, but that was the extent of it. Jokes. Make-belief. You can indulge in fantasies about anything while you are safe and sound, however insane those fantasies may be. It's a completely different story when you are suddenly forced to shoot someone who is neither dead nor alive.

There were some that you even recognized.

A cute baker boy you remember complimenting on his new haircut during your visit to Racoon City a few months back.

A young teacher fresh out of college who shared many meaningful conversations with you near the Orphanage.

An elderly neighbor you once helped cross the street, after which he kindly invited you for tea next time you'll come to visit.

A promise that was never to be fulfilled now. And realizing that you would probably end up among them if you didn't move out of the city was... chilling, to say the least. 

Racoon City, once a place of many fond memories for you, has now become nothing but a living, gruesome nightmare that you will likely never forget. A part of you still wonders how you even managed to keep yourself alive through it all in the first place. But, somehow, you did. In part, due to a very fortunate encounter with a rookie cop who seemed to have arrived in the city not long after you. You barely spent a day in there, yet it felt like a lifetime. But despite everything fate threw your way, you two remained united, only briefly forced apart from each other, but ultimately rejoined again.

At the end of the day, it felt good to at least not be alone in this. To know that someone has your back. Heck, even simply having someone there to talk to made things just a tiny bit easier. Navigating the blood-stained corridors of the ruined Police Station on your own would have made you lose your mind for sure.

Survival is not a pretty nor heroic endeavor. You've lost people. In fact, you'd say that you've lost way more than you've saved. Your heart has been permanently stained by witnessing so much senseless death and violence in such a short time. At least you have shared this awful stain with Leon. And it's always easier to share a burden than to carry it alone.

In the end, while you didn't achieve anything world-changing or save the city, you managed to escape together, relatively safe and sound. Despite being battered, covered in blood and grime, you two at least have the privilege of living another day. One that not many share, sadly.

You even managed to reunite with a pair of other survivors along the way - Claire and Sherry - who clearly had their own stories of shared survival to tell. So, you all made the decision to stick together from then on. Each of the four of you with their own scars to bear, whether physical or mental.

Tired, and a bit lost on what to do next, you all decided to spend the day at the nearest shabby motel. To get some much-needed rest before deciding on what to do next. Not the most ideal of places, but after the night you had, a clean bed to sleep in and a safe room with no metallic stench of blood clinging to your nostrils, was more than enough to feel relieved. Although it was rather cramped with all four of you huddling to share the compact space you've been given. But it was also an undeniable source of comfort to not be alone. Furthermore, your body was so utterly exhausted that you couldn't really afford to be picky.

In fact, you're pretty sure that you blacked out as soon as your head hit the pillow. All four of you shared that same sentiment, it seems. You all slept through the entire day and most of the night, your drained minds and bodies hungry for precious hours of peace and safely. 

When next morning came, Claire went out with Sherry to get breakfast for you all from the nearest diner, while you and Leon stayed back together in the motel. It was definitely... strange. It was strange to share so much with someone you've only met about about a day ago. Though, considering that you spent the entirely of the last day sleeping, it pretty much felt like yesterday. You met Leon having no prior knowledge of him whatsoever. He wasn't even from Racoon City. You couldn't have known him if you've tried. Yet, the shared experience of survival side by side made you feel closer to him than to some of your friends back home.

Human minds work in mysterious ways.

So, here you are now, stuck all alone with Leon, for the first time since you reunited with Claire on the train. To avoid any unwanted awkwardness, you decide to break the silence at last.

"So...How'd you sleep?"

With a small yawn, Leon stirs in his bed and shifts onto his side. He slept the longest out of all you. Knocked out cold and waking up only approximately ten or so minutes ago. He's still rubbing at his bleary eyes, clearly not fully awake despite his efforts to appear alert for you. Given that he was also the one in the worst shape among you all, no one really blamed him for it. As the morning sun trickles through the shutters, light streaks across his face, painting his features into soft shades of red and yellow. It's a cute look on him, in a way. Though you don't linger on that thought too much. He examines the dimly lit room for a moment, almost like he needs a moment to remember how he got here in the first place, before his eyes settle on you standing by the window.

You kept the shutters down on purpose, to keep the morning sun away, making the room appear rather dark, aside from long stripes of bright yellow from the sunlight stubbornly peeking through. Though, it's definitely a first for you to find such comfort in a motel room, of all places.

Leon rolls over onto his back with a small, pained grunt, propping himself up slightly with his good arm. His voice is muffled and groggy as he answers, and you smile to yourself at the sound of it, stiffling a snort: "Honestly... Can't really complain. This might be the best sleep I've had in a while, all things considered."

"Well, I guess at least some of us are well-rested," you say, indirectly referring to your own rather worn out state despite the good 15 hours of sleep you got. You appreciate the cleanliness of the fresh air coming from the window for another short moment, inhaling with your full chest to fill your lungs to the brim. Compared to the foul stench of blood and rot you had grown a tolerance for now, even the somewhat dusty air from the curb felt like you were breathing on top of the cleanest mountain. But, you step away and sit back down on the other bed next to Leon's, leaning back on your palms comfortably. "Claire and Sherry are out to get us all some breakfast. We decided not to wake you."

Leon sits up and gently stretches out his shoulders, wincing slightily at the motion. No wonder, considering the huge, bloody bandage wrapped around his shoulder. Despite your effort to appear nonchalant, he quickly recognizes the weariness etched onto your features, and looks over at you with a genuinely sympathetic expression from what you could tell.

You look away, disappointed that he somehow read you like a book.

It's bizarre, having someone you had basically just met feel so relaxed with you. Usually, it takes you at least a few weeks to develop this level of friendliness with someone. Then again, not like you go through what you went through the night before with everybody. After all, you already knew that Leon was good. There was no need to be cautious around him. None that you knew of, at least. That, and he seemed way more outspoken than you, anyway. A bit too trusting and naive, too. Especially for a cop.

"What about you? You didn't sleep too well or something?" Leon asks with a hint of trepidation in his voice. While a part of you is still a bit annoyed at his keen perception of you, you suppose you can't really blame him either. Given that he's likely dealing with the same thing you do.

Though, despite all that happened, he and Claire were much more optimistic than you.

Either way, you give him a small, dismissive shrug and run your hand over your hair, your nose wrinkling at the unpleasant feel of it. It's dry and matted under your touch. Even with your best efforts to get yourself back into shape yesterday, your hair was still far from its ideal state. Not like you had access to your usual haircare products in here. You probably still look rather messy. You also find yourself wondering if you'll have to get a trim on it when you go back home. Maybe this whole ordeal was the universe's twisted way of telling you to get a change of style or something.

Leon gaze is still trained on you, his eyes peering straight into your soul. That's how it felt, at least. No matter how hard you try, the weary look in your eyes and slight sag in your shoulders are the dead giveaway that you are, indeed, still tired. But he doesn't address the issue. Much to your relief.

"Eh, I'm fine. I got some sleep," your response is somewhat aloof, and you know it. But your lack of sleep isn't your only worry here, after all. "I'm glad you got some rest, though."

"Yeah... I sure needed it," Leon sighs softly, tracing the white bandage on his shoulder with his fingers.

Your gaze, too, shifts to the blood-stained bandage over his shoulder as you look over at him. You're a bit curious whether he was tracing it more due to his overall unease or because he was reminiscing about the very person who had put it on him in the first place.

Leon notices your stare on his shoulder, and his fingers stop their movements, almost like he's a bit embarrassed of it. As he looks back up at you, his expression is a perfect blend of exhaustion and contemplation. A somewhat awkward moment of silence passes, both of you lost in your own thoughts.

"...How are you holding up?" you coax, your voice a bit quieter than usual, much to your own surprise.

Geez, you didn't mean to sound so worried.

"I'm... managing," he responds with a hint of fatigue in his own voice. He softly pokes at the makeshift bandage again, grimacing instantly as another dull pain throbs in his shoulder. "-It still hurts like hell though. But I guess I can't complain. Considering everything."

You let out a sigh and lean forward, resting your arms on your knees: "That's... not what I'm asking here."

In a way, you were curious why you were asking him this in the first place. Not like it's important. Or should be important. Your shared experience together did not change the fact that you and Leon were still pretty much strangers, regardless of everything. Or maybe you were being too cynical. Regardless, the absence of Claire and Sherry allowed for you two to converse with each other one on one for the first time in a rather long while. Something that you felt the need for. For a variety of reasons.

Your words cause Leon's brows to furrow slightly, be it confusion or something else. Though, it's obvious he understands what you're implying here, what you're truly asking from him. He pauses for another long moment, seemingly unsure of how to respond. You don't rush him. Letting the silence settle between you two once more, safe for the quiet hum of the air conditioner and an occasional car driving by somewhere in the distance.

Finally, he looks away from you and stares down at the cheap carpet on the floor. His expression is almost fragile as he speaks up, his eyes hinting at a hidden vulnerability he kept inside up until this point: "It's... I don't know. I just... all the people I- we couldn't save..."

You quickly recognize his potential indirect referral. Or perhaps you were already aware of it from the very beginning, simply waiting for him to get to it. After all, the urgency to escape prevented you from talking about it, the entire Nest crumbling in on itself in a blaze of fire and ashes.

No time for talking about your feelings when you are about to fucking explode, after all.

Leon trails off, his throat bobbing as he swallows.

So, you cut straight to it for him.

"...Are you thinking about her?" you murmur faintly but just loud enough for him to hear, looking directly at him. Providing a name wasn't necessary for you both to understand exactly who you were referring to here.

Ada.

As Leon glances back up at you abruptly, his blue eyes flash with surprise. It's easy to see the moment his heart drops, a pretty blatant mix of pain and guilt quickly washing over his face. Looks like you hit the jackpot after all.

He tries to speak, but then shuts his mouth once more. The look in his eyes is now one of confusion as he runs a hand through his hair frustratedly. You allow him to have his moment with no interference. 

"...Yeah. I am," he finally admits, his voice almost a whisper. It's a wonder you heard him at all. With all the gunshots and explosions, you wouldn't have been surprised to find your hearing suffering greatly. He sighs heavily, his fingers twiddling together on his lap. "I... know it's probably stupid. Hell, it is stupid. To feel guilty over someone I barely even knew. Someone who..."

You sigh and lower your gaze as well. Saying things were complicated would be the same as saying nothing at all. Their final confrontation on the bridge was inaudible to you due to your distance. So, you were unaware of what was said between them. Not all of it, at least. The rumbling sounds of the Umbrella facility slowly crumbling in on itself caused everything to be drowned out to you. You didn't dare ask him about it, either.

His voice catches in his throat and he hesitates, making it obvious that it's your cue to continue now.

The judgment you made on Ada was based on what you saw from afar. That's all you could really offer him here.

"I do think she cared. About you, at least. We don't know why she did what she did. But... she didn't shoot you back there. I don't think she wanted to," you say, pursing your lips in thought as you play over what your eyes have seen. You were not aware of what Ada's last words to him were before she slipped from his grasp. But what you did see unfolding in front of you was... conflicting, to say the least.

Your words have a pretty profound effect on Leon, causing his heart to tighten in his chest with a painful pull. He understands all the implications behind them and, admittedly, he had already came to the same conclusion within himself. He just had no desire at all to actually face it and accept it. The fact that Ada's refusal to harm him to get her way was clear evidence of her allegiance. But that evidence was cruel and left him with no closure at all. Nervously, he runs his hand through his hair again, releasing a bitter laugh that felt heavy on his lungs. He is unsure whether he should be angry, sympathetic, or simply mournful towards the enigmatic woman who was such a mystery in every way, up to the very end. Perhaps he experiences all three emotions at the same time.

But you both know that if it were you standing there instead of Leon...

Ada probably wouldn't have hesitated on pulling the trigger.

He looks to you again, maybe hoping for you to give him some information he knew you couldn't give.

But you don't meet his gaze, choosing instead to look downwards, seemingly just as conflicted about this all as he is. Of course, Leon realizes that his numerous questions would remain unanswered for an indefinite period. Probaby forever. He also had to accept that you couldn't give him any answers, or closure that could potentially come with them. Ada has died, and there was no way to change that cold, hard fact. Just like there was no way to take back all the lives of countless others who were lost in those streets. Racoon City had transformed from a community of pride and hopeful future into a place of death and bloodshed, with only you, Claire, and Sherry, managing to escape it alive. That was your current understanding, at least.

It would be nice to meet other survivors. But, for now, all he could do was sigh and accept your answer, however unfair it was on his heart. 

"Yeah, maybe... Maybe you're right," he mutters before falling into silence once more. His mind is racing with so many thoughts, all in conflict with one another. He is torn between his heart's desire to believe that Ada cared and the warnings of his mind to be cautious. He is uncertain about any of his emotions or thoughts at this point. He lets out another tired huff of frustration. "I just- I just wish I knew why. Why she did what she did, how much of it was real, or..."

...Or whether she cared about him at all.

"Well... at least you're safe. Let's leave it at that," your voice cuts through the dark whirlpool of thoughts in his head, turning his attention back on you. You seem to be focusing on his injured shoulder again. Perhaps in an attempt to divert the conversation, you switch the subject: "-We should really clean that up for you. It's all dirty and bloodied. Can't be good."

Leon winces as he instinctively tries to move his injured shoulder, further proving your point. He complies with a single nod, fully aware of the dire need for cleaning and proper care for the wound hidden under the worn-out bandages. Or... whatever care you could provide. At this point, anything is better than this dirty, blood-soaked thing.

"Uh, yeah. It's been a while, and it's starting to kind of..."

He stops, his face contorting in pain while he tries to move it again. His shoulder is becoming increasingly tender, and the bandage is completely stained with dark crimson blood. How much of it is his, and how much of it is of the other mutated things that used to be humans or animals he had to fight off, is unclear. Taking a deep breath, he prepares himself mentally for the miserable ordeal ahead. 

This experience will not be pleasant.

That pitiful look you give him doesn't help his pride, either. Or what's left of it, anyways. 

Regardless, not wanting to stall this any longer than he has to, he gingerly shifts his wounded shoulder and starts to delicately remove his police uniform with caution, taking his time. He took off his body armor the day before, leaving it stacked neatly somewhere in the far corner. Out of sight, out of mind, so to speak. Still, what was left of the dirtied police uniform on him was just as much of a reminder of the night before. He flinches involuntarily due to the fabric brushing against the bloody bandage, the pain instantly radiating from his shoulder straight to his insides.

You realize that you cannot just sit back and watch him struggle on his own, pride be damned.

"...Here. Let me help," you murmur softly as you approach him and sit next to him on the motel bed. You begin to delicately unbutton and peel off his soiled uniform from his upper body, aiming to avoid putting any unneeded discomfort on his already tender shoulder.

Leon nods quietly in response to your assistance. You're grateful he didn't make a big deal out of it. Outwardly, at least. He raises his good arm and makes an effort to shift his position, allowing you to help him in taking off what was left. "Thanks..."

You try not to think too much about the fact that you are basically undressing a cute guy you just met the day before.

With your help, you eventually succeed in removing the top portion of his uniform, leaving him in his pants and a bandage to cover his bruised skin. As he sits there, you can tell that his upper body being fully uncovered to your gaze - except for the stained bandage on his shoulder that is - is making him feel rather awkward and tense. You can't really blame him for that.

You sure would be feeling embarrassed in his place.

"...I probably look a total mess right now," Leon shoots you a somewhat nervous smile. Despite him clearly trying to make a joke, you can still hear the painfully obvious apprehension in his voice.

"Yeah, you do," you agree rather bluntly as you glance over him without crossing any inappropriate boundaries. Leon had a more fit body than you expected, which... made sense in hindsight due to his recent graduation from the Police Academy, as he told you. It was probably necessary for him to be in good shape. Although muscular, he wasn't excessively so. His body was... normal. In a good way. Decently toned, with some softness around his sides and belly. Frankly, if it wasn't for the situation at hand, you would have complimented him, but you suppress that urge as soon as it arises.

You don't need to make things even more weird between you two.

As your eyes travel up and down his body, you lock eyes with each other for a brief, awkward moment. You quickly break eye contact with the each other, almost simultaneously.

Welp, so much for not being awkward.

"Uh... Do you remember what Ada did for you exactly...?" you say instead, touching his uninjured shoulder lightly. When Leon was shot, you were not together. You missed witnessing the event directly, only reuniting with him afterwards when he already had a fresh bandage wrapped snuggly around his shoulder.

"No... I passed out after I got shot," there is a brief pause between you, and his face reflects a mixture of pain and another indescribable emotion that you can't really pinpoint clearly. Whether it's physical discomfort speaking or something else entirely, you don't know. "I woke up with it already on and her gone."

You watch him turn his attention back to his injured shoulder, where the white bandage is stained with dried blood. He gently rubs the fabric with his fingers, sensing the pain and discomfort that emanates from the fresh wound beneath. Despite everything, it's very much evident that he can't help but feel at least a small tingle of gratitude towards Ada, even though it hurts him to think about her at the moment.

"Well, since you didn't bleed out, and your arm is still somewhat usable, I'd say she did a good job," you let out a sigh and lean back slightly. Although you had previously taken a rather beneficial first aid course, you never anticipated having to actually apply those skills to treat a severe bullet wound, of all things. "...Her being a mercenary explains her way around such stuff, I guess."

Leon's eyes are still fixed on his injured shoulder as he nods. Guess he wasn't feeling very talkative for now. Not that you could blame him for that.

He runs his hand through his messy hair as you go to grab the medkit you thoughtfully prepared for the occasion, the faint sound of his fingers scratching against his scalp echoes in the room. You can only guess that his hair is probably just as dry and dirty as yours is, considering the circumstances you've just recently escaped from. On some level, it makes you feel less awkward about your own disheveled appearance in turn. It's good to know that you are all in the same boat here. Looking like a mess, and feeling like one, too.

"It sure does," he exhales somewhat bitterly, his voice filled with underlying anguish, as if he feels deeply betrayed. And he probably does. His face covered in a plethora of conflicting emotions. You feel a twinge of sympathy tugging at your heartstrings again. "I wish she could have just... been honest with me. From the start."

It appears that he is struggling to reconcile with the disparity between the person he believed he knew and the person Ada truly was.

You decide to not mention that he knew her for less than 24 hours. After all, it's evident that he's going through a difficult time as it is, and your practicality may not be of much help to him. Emotions are notoriously illogical.

It's difficult to think of a way to comfort him in the current situation.

"Well, at least you still have me, right? We made it out. And Claire, too. And Sherry." So, instead, you choose to gently rub his uninjured shoulder as a wordless show of support. "C'mon. Let's get that dirty bandage off of you. We don't want you catching an infection or something."

When you touch his shoulder again, he returns his gaze back to you, some life returning to the gentle blues of his eyes, much to your relief. Looks like your touch did the trick, as his body gradually loosens up under your palm. He gives you a small but genuine smile. "Alright, alright. Let's get this done, then. This is going to suck though..."

"Hey, it can't be as bad as actually getting shot, though, right?" you attempt to make a small joke to lighten the mood, but you instantly feel a deep sense of discomfort inside as soon as you actually speak it aloud.

Well, that sure sounded macabre.

"Uh... Sorry. That was... pretty bad."

Leon snorts out a short laugh regardless, running a hand over his face. At least you made him laugh. Though you can't help but wonder whether he laughed at your joke, or you. Probable the latter. Regardless, he takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the very probable agony of having his shoulder directly meddled with.

You both understand that it'll likely be pretty painful for him to endure, but you also understand that it is very much essential to get done. Especially since you haven't visited a hospital yet.

So, after you share a nod of mutual agreement with him, you begin to carefully remove the dirty bandage from his shoulder, taking your time to avoid causing him any unnecessary discomfort.

Besides your unfunny joke, that is.

"...Your jokes are terrible." Leon mutters under his breath, probably to distract himself a little. He winces slightly, the fabric that's already hardened now rubbing directly against the wound from your movements, which is more than uncomfortable to sit through, but not as painful as he expected. Or maybe he has just become more numb to the pain of it. "Don't be too gentle, by the way. Better to just get it over with as quickly as possible."

"I'm not about to hurry through this and potentially make it worse, sorry," you deadpan, leaving no room for doubt. 

Well, so much for his hopes of getting this done quickly. Though he knows you're right there. He just really doesn't want to sit through this.

As you continue to unravel the bandage, he clenches his teeth tightly. The pain is bearable, but it's far from enjoyable. With you steadily approach the actual wound, his entire body tightens involuntarily, muscles going taut with contained tension. The actual memory of being shot is still fresh in his mind, unfortunately. Though, he tries to divert his attention away from the pain by focusing on your presence and touch instead, however dubious such a notion may be.

He can hear you release a small sigh, whether it was out of annoyance or pity for him, he couldn't really tell. Your lips tighten as you carefully and patiently unravel each layer of cloth one by one to reach the aforementioned wound. He quickly looks down at his lap, scolding himself inwardly.

Why was he staring at your lips, of all things, anyways? He has no concise answer for that. And he is not sure what to expect once you two can finally look at the bullet wound itself, either. It's like everything was uncertain, and that was frustrating, to say the least.

"F-Fuck... That hurts-"

He clenches his teeth tightly, determined not to make any unneeded noise. He doesn't want to appear weak in your presence for some reason. Perhaps it's his pride speaking. He didn't really know.

"Sorry... I'm going as gently as I can," your voice is softer than he's used to, and he's not sure how to take that. You take your sweet time to remove the remaining layers of his bandage, being cautious not to abruptly tear it off, opting instead for a slower and more careful approach. Considerate as ever.

Leon releases a trembling breath while you carefully remove the final layer of fabric. He has to fight a growing urge to recoil as the last remaining layers of bandage are delicately removed. But it does at least feel relieving to finally take a full breath with no restriction that the tightness of the fabric secured around his chest provided. Even if such freedom was probably brief.

You both can now see his entire shoulder, which completely reveals the wound for you both to behold. He is very much aware of his heart pounding in his chest, his nerves on high alert. Once the wound is finally exposed, you examine it, quickly glancing over the hastily but securely stitched front and back where the bullet entered and exited his body. It was certainly not a clean, medical work, but it far surpassed anything either of you were capable of doing for him.

"Looks like she stitched you up, too... I wonder if that means she removed the bullet," you note, your brows furrowed together, creating a rather adorable-looking wrinkle between them.

...Goddammit, he's thinking utter nonsense.

"Ugh... I don't want to look at it," he mutters with clenched teeth, his breath slightly uneven. Nonetheless, he tries to divert his attention to something else, anything else, to distract himself from the nervousness twisting at his insides. The pain is intense and prickling, a sensation that spreads from the wound itself. The tender area around the injury causes Leon to wince involuntarily as you delicately touch it. He looks down at the wound, the stitched-up flesh making him a bit queasy. But he pushes past it. "I... can't tell you anything on what she did, sorry. Like I said, I passed out."

He looks away from it, not wanting to see it for much longer. Damn it, this will likely leave a mark. So much for the first day on the job. The idea of having to bear a permanent reminder of that horrible night makes him want to wail and claw at the walls.

But instead, he just lets out a shaky breath, his hands gripping at the sheets with iron-tight grip. In some sick irony, he now finds himself wishing for the dull, physical ache to return, to take center-stage again, instead of these feelings of disgust and dread that were so much more difficult to deal with.

Once again, your voice pulls him out of his silent turmoil. This seems to be a common occurrence now. But one he's grateful for, nonetheless.

"Well... Either way, you'll still need to go to a hospital for this. Preferably as soon as possible," you state, pretty much admitting that you would rather have opted to go directly to the hospital after your escape instead of staying in a nearby motel. He knew that you didn't approve of his stubborn refusal to go to the hospital. And here you were now. DIY care will have to do. You hum, your fingertips carefully tracing around the stitches. He shivers. Whether that was from the pain or something else entirely, he didn't really know. "-At least it's stitched up, so that's good. I'll just clean it, disinfect it, and wrap it back up for you. Hopefully it'll be okay."

"Yeah, I know I need to get this checked out. But for now..." As you start tending to his injury with a wet wipe, he flinches a bit, feeling a sharp pain from the cold dampness touching his skin. He hisses through his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as he continues, his voice strained from the pain: "-I just want us to get out of here first. As far away from Racoon City as possible. Especially Sherry."

"Sorry... Bear with it for a while, will you?" you say as you move closer to him on the bed, glancing at him with that cute sympathetic look of yours. You start from his back and then move to his front. He shuts his eyes again while you continue with the wound cleaning, concentrating on taking deep, regular breaths to soothe his nerves. His body tenses up involuntarily, as the pain from the wound and the recollection of how it happened remain vivid in his thoughts.

"It's alright... I'll handle it." A sensitive area on his shoulder causes him to squirm slightly when touched. His entire body tightens instinctively, and his muscles contract involuntarily. "S-Sorry, just... Be careful, okay?"

You nod as you continue to cleanse his skin of dried up blood, while he tries to find solace in your quiet comfort. It presents a challenge, as the pain from his injury and the physical proximity between you two hinder his ability to focus on anything else.

"Don't apologize. I'm not the one with a damn bullet wound in my shoulder," you respond to his apology with a soft huff and a small shake of your head, your attention fully focused on your work. Your primary objective was to avoid making any sharp movements and to prevent your eyes from wandering south.

Which was... a bit harder than you would have liked to admit. You notice a few birthmarks scattered around his skin here and there. It's cute. A part of you wants to trace over them with your finger.

But, of course, you have a job to do.

Leon takes a deep breath, his chest slowly rising and falling as you work on him carefully. His teeth are clenched far too tightly for his comfort, and you are kind of worried that he might chip a tooth if he keeps this up. But considering that you have no idea what he's going through here, you decide to keep your mouth shut on that.

After successfully cleaning the area around his rough stitches, you pull away and search through the first aid kit you had in the motel room. A small, thoughtful hum fills your lips.

You hear Leon laugh weakly:"...Anything worthwhile in there, doc?"

"Well, there's some antibiotic cream in here... Better than nothing. I guess?"

He watches as you pull out the small tube of some basic antibacterial cream. You're pretty sure you have seen it somewhere before. Then again, no point expecting some high-end medicine from a med-kit you found stashed in the bedside drawer. Regardless, you make sure to read through its contents, just to be sure. Satisfied, you nod to yourself and return to sit behind him, beginning to apply the cream to his stitches with your fingertips. He instantly grimaces, be it from the pain or the cold. His muscle tighten again  for a moment, a small gasp leaving his lips.

"Stay still," you instruct to him softly as you spread the cream over his stitches thoroughly, your forehead wrinkling with focus. You try your best to be gentle while also ensuring that an adequate amount is applied to the injury.

"Ugh... shit, that's cold," he grits out, his voice strained.

For a small while, the room is silent, aside from Leon's shaky breaths and an occasional grunt of pain as he struggles to stay still for you. After you thoroughly treated both sides, you withdraw with a sigh: "Well... That's as good as we can do for now. We just need to wrap it back up with something."

Leon exhales a trembling breath of relief. Poor guy definitely had the worst night of his life.

"Heh... I guess I owe you one for this." He directs his gaze towards his shoulder, his eyes shifting between his bloodstained shirt lying crumbled on the floor and the now clean and treated stitches. Compared to their previous state, they definitely looked a bit better, but it was still, admittedly, pretty gross to look at. You can only guess that it will be a lengthy recovery for him. He hums. "You did a great job, by the way. I'm not sure I could have handled doing all that by myself,"

He meets your eyes with a gentle, grateful smile.

"-Just make sure to get it treated at the hospital. I don't need anything else from you." You dismiss him with a small smile of your own. Leon gives you a small nod at that.

However brief, the implication of the future makes you feel a bit... uneasy. Considering the past night's events, the idea of parting and going your separate ways seemed to be somewhat conflicting to you. Nonetheless, you have already accepted that it was inevitable. Leon, on the other hand, seemed to be firmly committed to destroying Umrella completely for what it did to Racoon City, just like Claire was. You felt somewhat out of place between these two determined individuals. After all, you were just an ordinary person who somehow miraculously escaped relatively unharmed. You weren't a courageous hero, nor were you skillfull enough to take down an entire corporation in some blaze of glory.

...Except for the scar or two for you to brag about now. Though you honestly doubt your survival is something to be proud of. You sure don't feel proud or accomplished at all.

Regardless, you ignore all these thoughts and concentrate on retrieving fresh bandages, contemplating them with a pensive expression. It's a bit of a hassle to unwrap the delicate gauze without tearing it. "...I sure hope this will be enough to wrap your shoulder back up. Though I guess I can just run out and buy some more."

"I think that should be enough. And don't worry about running out to get more. I don't want you going out there alone," Leon's voice is more serious than you expect, prompting you to raise a brow at him. He meets your questioning gaze, his face showing a somewhat worried expression. "We're stronger together. Safer together. And after everything we've been through, I don't want to risk us losing sight of each other."

"What do you would even happen, though? We're out now, right? I get that you and Claire want to deal with Umbrella and all, but..." you let out a sigh and move closer to him from behind, beginning to gently wrap the bandage around his shoulder and torso to provide support. Despite the awkwardness and clumsiness of your work, you do your best for him. "-I'm just a normal, boring person with a normal, boring life, y'know. Not much I can do. I'm guessing I'll just... go back home to my State or something. Since Racoon City is obviously... uh... not an option of residence anymore."

Leon nods again as he listens to you. He takes a brief pause, staring down at the fresh bandages layering themselves over his body before returning to look back at you over his shoulder. You lock eyes with him.

"But still... I'd feel better if you stuck with me. Or Claire. At least until you and Sherry are somewhere safe," he shrugs slightly, wincing as the motion immediately strains at his wounded shoulder. "I'm not saying you have to help us take down Umbrella if you don't want to. That's our fight. But... I would feel better knowing that you're safe and protected. And if that means sticking with me until you are, then..."

"-Go easy on that shoulder, will you?" you release a small sigh of frustration when you see him casually shrug and grimace instantly. You place a hand on his uninjured shoulder to acclimate him a bit before continuing bandaging him up.

"Sorry, sorry. Staying still now." A sheepish chuckle leaves him as he gives you an almost guilty look. A trembling breath escapes him as you work at his shoulder. Although it's obvious that he's still uncomfortable, it looks like his pain has eased a little, much to your relief.

You take a deep breath, your expression shifting slightly. Truth be told, you were a bit jealous of Leon's unyielding faith into things somehow working out in the end. It was naive, but... refreshing, too. He continues, his gaze now locked onto you over his shoulder: "And you're not boring, you know. Sure, you may not have any special skills or training, but you're smart. Brave. Resilient. You've survived this far, haven't you?"

You take a brief moment to reflect on his words, with only the faint noise of the gauze being unwrapped and distant sounds from outside permeating the motel room. "-Won't I just be a burden to you guys, though? You're a cop. And Claire is apparently one impressive badass with a gun. I'm not... Ada, either. I'm just... well, me. Not much I can offer to help you in the long run."

You take a brief break to lock eyes with him again. Leon smiles at you faintly, his face now looking more relaxed, no longer wrinkled with the expression of pain: "Well... You've got heart. That counts for something in my book."

"Uh... not to be a downer, but I don't think my 'heart' will keep me safe out there. I never even shot a gun properly before. Until last night that is," you whisper playfully, rolling your eyes at him. Somehow, his words always manage to bring a smile to your face, even if it's a small one. Though he is pretty damn corny. "I guess I could kill zombies with kindness. Do you think my heart is any good for that?"

Leon laughs at that, his eyes twinkling with amusement. It looks like your bluntness didn't bother him much. When you're eventually finished with bandaging him up, you're able to see how well the pure white fabric of the fresh gauze contrasts with the previous dirty and bloody one now lying discarded on the floor. Leon takes a moment to look back down at his freshly bandaged shoulder, too, appreciating your work. At least you hope he did.

"I mean... I could teach you how to shoot properly and all. If you want." He looks back up at you with a genuinely sincere expression on his face. He takes a short pause and a small smile appears on his lips before he adds: "...And I get the feeling you'd be a natural shot from what I've seen from you already."

You only scoff at that, your attention focused on inspecting his body, examining the various cuts and bruises that still marred his skin.

Leon lets out another gentle chuckle at your dismissive response or lack there of, his face showing a combination of amusement and gratitude. Admittedly, you're a bit more huffy with him now that you're out of danger. You can't really help it. But that doesn't mean you don't feel any worry twist in your gut as you look over his bruised body.

"-How about I patch some of these up as well? Since I have all the supplies out and all."

"You sure? I can walk it off just fine," Leon says in a rather playful tone. Though, to make it easier for you to observe his body, he still carefully adjusts his position to face you fully. "Sure, a few cuts and scrapes here and there, and I'm guessing I'm gonna be bruised up pretty bad, but... Nothing to make a fuss about."

You only grace him with yet another deadpan look that makes it clear that you already made the decision for him. So, without saying another word, you grab another wet wipe and begin cleaning out his numerous smaller cuts and gashes scattered here and there, starting with his lower back, as you move behind him once more.

Leon emits a soft hiss, the familiar coldness causing him to shudder against you. He's rather pliable for you, for some reason. You kind of expected him to protest or at least grumble a bit at your incessant coddling. But it seems like he was fine with just letting you play nurse for him. 

"Stay still, will you," you quietly chide him, placing a hand on his back to stop his squirming.

"Sorry, it just stings like hell..." he mumbles as he attempts to remain still for you, his muscles tightened. His body grows increasingly rigid as you continue to tend to his wounds, a trembling exhale leaving his lips. He clenches his teeth again, but he sometimes cannot resist emitting a hiss or gasp here and there. "God, I don't remember the last time I got beat up this bad... I feel like I got hit by a damn train."

You now move to position yourself in front of him to take care of his stomach area. And once again, you find yourself trying to keep your mind from focusing too much on the physical proximity between you two. Especially as you shift to kneel on the floor between his legs, finding no other better option to be level with his lower abdomen in a way that would be comfortable for you.

All you are doing is taking care of his wounds and nothing else.

Leon and you are both acutely aware of how close you are to him now, his breath catching in his throat when you kneel in front of him. But he doesn't say anything about it, and neither do you. After all, saying anything about it would potentially force you to confront some feelings you weren't comfortable confronting quite yet. As you clean up some minor cuts of his, you feel a slight increase in your heart rate despite all your best efforts to keep a level head. However, you try your damnest to put these unwanted feelings aside by reminding yourself that you are simply doing your job.

...Only you certainly can't ignore the fact that you are now essentially kneeling between his legs. Despite this, you persevere in cleaning him up, your hands moving over his chest and abdomen with great care. With too much care, really. There was no reason for you to be so careful and soft with him. But you do so anyways.

Leon watches you intently as you're working on him in tense silence, his eyes fixed on your face, hands, the way your hair occasionally falls over your face from your position, partially obscuring your features from his view. Your gentle assistance causes him to feel a tiny shiver traveling down his spine every time you move your fingers and touch his skin directly. He swallows, clearing his throat.

"Fucking hell... I'm gonna be sore as hell for weeks," Leon lets out a somewhat shaky laugh, trying to adopt a light and casual tone despite the situation. Though, he is mostly just hoping to distract himself from... everything.

...He wonders how your touch would feel on him without the washcloth there to mask it.

You give him a slight shrug in response. "-Sore is better than dead."

Fair.

"Thanks for... taking care of all this. I don't know what I'd do without you right now."

"Probably have Claire do this for me."

Leon laughs nervously, realizing that his attempts at small-talk are not quite working out. He watches you grab the antibacterial cream and move back up to sit behind him on the bed. When you begin applying the cream to his back, he wries slightly but tries his best to remain still for you and conceal the full extent of his discomfort. Your hands on his skin, and the cream's coldness is making him shiver for the countless time today. "...Is the cream really necessary? It's just some cuts and bruises..."

"Yup."

He sighs, hanging his head low and accepting his fate. Once the initial foreign coldness of the cream subsidies, the sensation of your touch on his skin has a strangely relaxing effect on him, especially so when it doesn't involve the aching bullet wound on his shoulder. He leans into your touch mindlessly, despite the ache, feeling his muscles gradually unwind under your care.

He's not necessarily aware of the action. But once he does notice it, he doesn't try to move back, either. After all the stress and pain, it's too much of a relief. And he's far too weak to resist it.

With a small smile on his lips, he glances at you over his shoulder and says: "You know... I've gotta say, being taken care of by a beautiful stranger like you isn't all that bad."

You huff out a surprised laugh at that, giving him a rather adorable-looking eye roll. He feels his smile grow, feeling oddly proud of making you laugh. Even if it was probably at his expense.

"...Not sure how I'm supposed to respond to that, but thank you for the compliment. You're not so bad yourself. For a patient." Your dismissive response at his cheeky remark is something that Leon finds genuinely amusing. He knows he took you by surprise with that. Which was his intention all along.

And just like that, you return back to the floor, settling between his legs and starting to apply cream to the small cuts scattered on his stomach. Like it's no big deal whatsoever. Your calm and nonchalant attitude about this all is kind of driving him crazy. It makes him feel like he's insane for feeling all frazzled by this entire situation. But he keeps his thoughts to himself, not wanting to embarrass himself any further.

Your ghostly touches across his abdomen cause a slight increase in his heart rate, another shudder running down his spine despite his efforts to suppress it. He tries to hide his body's unwelcome reactions to your touch, biting down on his lip, but he can't help but tremble and gasp occasionally, writing it off on the pain in his head. Rather poorly. His body stubbornly refuses to calm down, not when he can feel the sensation of your fingers gliding across his skin so gently, and he just has to sit there deal with it.

...And hopefully avoid getting a very awkward boner, considering your position between his legs.

Trying to keep the mood light, he grins down at you his eyes glued to you as his voice takes on a more joking tone. Though it sounds more shaky and nervous than confident, much to his annoyance: "You don't have to respond. Just take the compliment."

"Gee, thank you. Very gracious of you," you laugh briefly, shaking your head at him. At times, you were too much. Leon wonders if that's how you normally act, when you're not in a life-or-death situation. He was not prepared for you to be so curt and snarky with him. In a way, it was endearing. Though, of course, he wasn't about to admit that outloud.

Regardless, he finds himself shooting his shot again. Almost on impulse.

"Y'know... You're making this whole 'being patched up' thing damn near enjoyable," his tone is playful, but a subtle hint of interest still manages to sneak into his voice, mixed in with his playful words. He was testing the waters. Trying to see just how receptive you were to his flattery that was a bit more flirty in nature.

"Well, at least you're not in pain. That's good enough for me." Your response is almost unfairly simple, prompting him pout a bit as he watches you finish up on the task of tending to his numerous minor cuts and bruises that he acquired the night before. At the very least, this was much easier for him to handle, both physically and mentally, compared to the gruesome bullet wound you just treated. His torso still had a few noticeable bruises and smaller cuts from the previous day, but he definitely looked much better without all the dried up blood and dirt stuck to his skin and making it seem worse than it really was.

With a soft sigh, you pull back from him and look over him, pausing to look at his bruised hands in particular: "-Those probably hurt, no?"

He concentrates on his hands for a good minute, staring down at them and flexing his fingers to gauge their feel. With a slight grimace, he experiences a tiny burst of pain as he moves them, an exasperated huff leaving his lips.

At this point, is there any part of his body that doesn't hurt like a bitch?

"...A bit. Can't say I'm really surprised, though. It's a wonder I have any usable hands left at all, honestly."

His expression softens slightly when he meets your gaze, noticing the crystal-clear worry in your eyes. He finds it charming how much you truly care and desire to help him. You may be a bit more sharp with him, but your genuine concern for him never went away. He's definitely not used to being doted on so much. Though he feels a bit guilty for enjoying it as much as he does.

You shake your head again, giving him a pointed look at his little quip: "Don't get all dramatic now."

He smiles at that.

"No, but really. Thanks for tending to me. I was serious when I said that I wouldn't know what I'd do without you right now," he repeats his previous statement again, mostly because he doesn't really know what else to say. Or, rather, what he wants to say is a bit out of line.

"Nah. I'm not doing anything groundbreaking here. It just helps to keep my hands busy. I'll probably patch up Claire and Sherry once they come back, too." You wave off his gratitude, as always. 

Leon has to refrain from voicing his observations, which directly contradict your words. Which are that you visibly cared more and felt more concerned for him in particular. He didn't want to create an awkward situation between you two. Instead, he watches quietly as you hum and delicately take hold of his hands, bringing them closer to your face to assess the damage. Of course, it wasn't a major problem. In all honesty, you could have concluded this all once you took care of his bullet wound, as it was the only truly crucial matter to deal with. Everything else that followed was rather unnecessary, all things considered.

He freely lets you hold onto his hands without any resistance. His heart flutters slightly as he feels the tenderness of your touch once more. Observing your face, he feels a mix of affection and amusement bubbling in his chest as you examine his hands so thoroughly. Your gaze lingering on his bruised knuckles is something he notices in particular. You're rather attentive with him.

Nonetheless, you pull back once you're satisfied, meeting his gaze. "-It'll probably be good to bandage up those knuckles. Make it less painful for you, at least."

"Yeah, that might not be a bad idea," he says in a light tone, trying to ignore the way his heartbeat steadily accelerates due to the warm sensation of your fingers against his skin with no barriers getting in the way. And ignoring the persistent thoughts of lacing his fingers with yours, just to see how that would feel like.

As you begin silently wrapping his knuckles with gauze, he watches as your hands move gently and precisely over him. Even if it was faint, he couldn't help but notice the contrast between the size of your hands and his own. He almost becomes distracted by the sensation of your touch, but your voice takes him out of it.

"-Nice to know that taking that first aid course back in college wasn't a total waste of time," you muse playfully while you delicately wrap the gauze around one of his hands, making sure not to apply too much pressure on it. The sensation was comforting. By taking care of Leon, you were not only helping him, but also alleviating your own worries following the events of the previous night. In a sense, you were doing this for yourself as much as for him.

"Well, you're really good at this. Maybe you should be a nurse. Look into that." Leon's voice is soft even if his words are teasing, a hint of appreciation or admiration seeping through. You couldn't really tell.

As you scrunch up at him in response to his compliment, Leon giggles. The sound of it feels oddly calm and soothing to you. You are acutely aware of his eyes on you as you swiftly wrap the gauze around his hand, but you do not mention it to him. Considering that you were acting rather excessive with your care for him, you couldn't really blame him for staring. Once you are done with one of his hands, he glances at his freshly bandaged knuckles with a faint smile gracing his lips.

"...Never thought I'd put my skills to use like this though," your say quietly.

"I never thought I'd end up getting shot on my first day on the job, either. Or attacked by a giant alligator. It's been a wild ride, to say the least."

"I guess we all got the rug pulled from under our feet last night, so to speak," you sigh, your brows furrowing a bit as your mind drifts back to the events of the night prior. But you don't dwell on it too much. Focusing instead of the feel of Leon's hand in yours.

As you gradually complete the bandaging on his other hand as well, he continues to watch you in silence, his gaze fixed on your face as you concentrate on your task. You feel a bit sheepish, knowing you are being watched this closely, a warm, ticklish sensation flickering to life in your chest. You sigh and shake it off.

"But hey, I'm grateful I got to meet you. Though that was... one hell of a first meeting," his tone is sincere and quiet, with a genuine intention behind his words you can't overlook even if you try. You are suddenly fully aware that you probably wouldn't have been able to figure out what to do without his presence by your side in duration of that hellish night. In fact, if it wasn't for him, you'd probably be dead. Be it by giving up on fighting and simply accepting your fate, or being far too panicked to get yourself together in a moment of importance.

You wouldn't have survived if you were on your own put there. At least that's what you thought.

"I'm... glad I met you, too. And I'm glad you're here with me, right now."

The ease with which these words just fly out of your mouth is... surprising. A rather long moment of silence follows, only the soft sound of the bandage being wrapped around his other hand and the distant noise of cars outside filling the cramped motel room.

You do not look up at him, but you can be pretty certain that Leon is probably just as taken aback by your unexpectedly moving response. Your heart skips as you swiftly realize the genuine sincerity of your own words that seemed to have a mind of their own. This wasn't like you. Being this open and vulnerable about your feelings. Especially so to someone you've just met. Maybe you were even more of a mess than you thought. But when you do get the courage to sneak a quick glance up at him, his expression is rather soft, much to your surprise. You cannot quite comprehend what is reflected in there, but it brings a warm, blooming feeling to your chest regardless.

"Uh... Thanks," he speaks up eventually, his voice sounding a little rougher than usual, but you are grateful enough that he managed to blurt out at least something to end this heavy beat of silence. The unexpected intensity of the moment has left you feeling a bit flustered and caught off guard, and you never liked not being in control of your emotions.

He continues to watch you as you finish bandaging his other hand, his gaze shifting between your face and his now fully bandaged knuckles. Throughout this quiet but charged process, you deal with a rather strange combination of feelings. Gratitude for his understanding of your odd behavior without focusing on it too much. A fluttery, nervous feeling in your stomach due to your physical proximity to him, making you painfully aware of every rise and fall of his chest with every breath he takes. A burning heat of embarrassment blooming in your cheeks from being so upfront with him all of the sudden.

It was a doozy, to say the least. Especially to your already worn out mind.

You exhale slowly, calming yourself. Leaning slightly back on your knees, you observe his bandaged hands. Despite finding a safe place to rest and sleep without immediate danger, you still feel a sense of unease and uncertainty somewhere in the back of your mind, gnawing at your every thought like an ugly, persistent parasite. And these new emotions you are now dealing with did not help with that feeling of apprehension whatsoever. You're growing increasingly unsure about what to do next or how to proceed after all is resolved. Both short-term as well as long-term. 

Will you just return to your regular daily routine after this? Go back to work like nothing happened? Try out that study program you were so interested in applying for? Visit that new Cafe that opened near your apartment back home?

All of that seems almost impossible now. The same things that used to make you feel hopeful and excited for the future now seemed completely hollow. You felt hollow. Like Racoon City has robbed you of your future, even if it let you escape alive.

But what other option is there for you?

To play hero and risk your life again?

You weren't sure you could handle that, either.

"Hey, I..." Leon starts to speak, breaking you out of your trance, but his voice fades away without ever finishing whatever he was planning on saying to you. He clearly wants to convey something, but he is either unsure of what to say, or is hesitant about speaking his mind at all. You can't really blame him. You find it rather infuriating yourself, trying to find the correct words to express the unique combination of emotions swirling within you chest.

You shake your head, expelling all these unwanted thoughts from your mind. At least for a brief moment.

"-For what it's worth, I really am glad you've survived. With me. And... I'm thankful. For all you did for me. Even though you didn't know me at all."

Your thumbs are absentmindedly brushing against his palm now while you keep your gaze lowered. You don't want to see his face right now. Perhaps, you're just scared to.

"...You may not have saved everybody. Or most people you wanted to save. But... I'm here thanks to you. So... thank you. For saving me," you finish quietly. Taking little time to consider your next action, you find yourself leaning down and gently kissing his bandaged knuckles, lingering there for a few moments before withdrawing. You don't address the issue directly or consider its significance.

You refuse to.

Leon is very much stunned speechless when you go and kiss his knuckles without any warning being given to him, his heart quickly flying up into his throat as he stares down at you, utterly dumbfounded. This was... definitely the last thing he expected you to do, especially after such a heartfelt sentiment that left him feeling rather choked up as it is. He feels a rush of warmth traveling up to his face, causing him to choke on his own words for a good minute. He struggles to find the right words as various emotions overwhelm him all at once. But they didn't feel heavy or painful, like the crushing guilt for those he couldn't protect, or the suffocating ache of betrayal that Ada's deception left him with. 

This was lighter, giving him a much-needed break from all the depressing thoughts and questions buzzing on the front of his mind. But, ironically this was also so much more nerve-wracking to navigate.

He didn't know which on which emotion to focus on, which one to express to you, and whether or not he should express anything at all.

Gratitude for your unconditional comfort. Guilt for making you comfort him in the first place. Confusion at your sudden show of gentle affection he didn't know how to respond to. An inexplicable fluttering sensation making his guts feel all queasy.

You not saying anything to address what just happened doesn't help much with the chaos happening inside his head.

"You..." although he starts speaking, he trails off once again, cursing at himself inside his own head.

You don't seem bothered at all by his lack of a reply. In fact, Leon is kind of uncertain if you even want him to reply in the first place. It doesn't seem like you expect much from him at all. And the situation between you is already too complicated as it is, without all the added weirdness taking place right now. Maybe you didn't want to talk about it at all.

Though, the notion of you simply kissing him like that, without expecting anything from him in return is... more moving than he was willing to admit.

So, despite his disbelief and the whirlwind of emotions wrecking havoc on his already frazzled mind, he just keeps looking at you like. Like a loyal puppy looking at its owner and trying to figure them out. Truth be told, he simply cannot bring himself to look away from you right now, not with the memory of your brief kiss to his knuckles now etched into his mind. Regardless of its simplicity and innocence, the kiss has a deeper meaning for him. Suddenly, he finds himself being struck by your simple beauty: how tired and fragile you truly seem to him in this moment. In a way, you look just like him. Exhausted and battered, but carrying on regardless. There was a certain authentic charm in your disheveled appearance. He finds himself yearning to reach out and hold your hand, to bring your own fingers up to his lips, like you did for him.

...But before he can do or say any of that, you sigh and lift yourself up from your kneeling position beneath him. You release his hands, your thumbs gently brushing along the sides of his palms one last time before you warmth slips away from him completely. Leon continues to watch as you move away from him, feeling an unexpected sense of disappointment coiling deep in his gut despite his efforts to ignore it. He tries his damnest to dismiss this unpleasant feeling, convincing himself to concentrate on whatever you choose to do next instead. Though he does kind of feel like some lovesick puppy, unable to look away from you even for a damn second.

You quickly sit back up onto the motel bed beside him, your eyes traveling up and down his form quietly. He knows you're probably just overlooking his injuries, but he suddenly feels nervous and almost self-conscious under your attention, nonetheless. Mostly because he wants to know what you think of him. Not as a patient, but as a man. He does appear visibly better, though, now that he's at least no longer wearing that dirty, bloody bandage around his shoulder, and his smaller cuts and bruises have been properly cleaned from the stray dirt and blood stuck on them. But he's definitely seen better days.

"-Claire and Sherry sure are taking their time," you say softly, breaking the silence.

"Y-Yeah, they are. They've been gone for a while now. I'm sure they're fine, though. Claire can handle herself," he agrees, his voice sounding strangely squeaky even to his own ears. He cringes inwardly, clearing his throat. His mind continues to race, with thoughts swirling like a tornado within his head. Feeling restless, he shifts uncomfortably on the bed, unable to find the right position.

He's fully aware that his behavior has become noticeably more quiet and reserved compared to before, and he can't help but feel slightly annoyed with himself for making things awkward between you. But he doesn't really know what else to do. Whether you want him to talk about that kiss or not. If he's making a bigger deal out of it than it really is.

If you would be willing to do that again...

He runs his fingers through his unkempt hair with a quiet huff, the subtle sensation of your lips brushing against his knuckles both a blessing and a curse. He's definitely the weird one here. Claire probably would have laughed her ass off at him right now, and he can't really blame her. His gaze is fixed on you, his eyes lingering on your face for far longer than necessary, trying to read between the lines, to figure out what you're thinking in that head of yours. He's itching to say something, anything, to break the weighty silence that has now enveloped the small, confined room... but the words continue to stubbornly elude him. Instead, he awkwardly clears his throat again, almost like something got stuck in there. But, really, he is simply suddenly overtaken by a strong desire for physical contact with you. One he isn't sure what to do with.

You shake your head and speak up again, for which he is definitely grateful, his mind instantly rushing to cling to your words. Anything to escape from the rising disarray his head is in.

"Well, hey, at least it gave us a chance to patch you up properly."

You glare at the old bandage, stained with blood from his shoulder's bullet wound, that you had taken off earlier and left crumpled on the floor. As Leon once again remembers the wound on his shoulder, he trembles slightly, following your gaze down at the blood-stained bandage lying on the floor. He finds that cute. How you almost scrunch your nose up at that dirty thing. Like it's a living thing that caused him so much problems.

Despite him being very much shirtless, he still feels a bit too hot for his liking.

"I guess it did, yeah," he says, his voice sounding rather strained. Restlessly, he shifts on the bed again, desperately searching for something else to talk about. However, his mind stubbornly keeps returning to the sensation of your lips on his skin, and an unfamiliar longing gradually rises within him, tugging at his heartstrings...

But longing for what exactly?

He suppresses his thoughts and bites his tongue, feeling a bit embarrassed by the intensity of his desire. He feels like a complete idiot. Getting all worked up over nothing. He glances at you once again, his eyes lingering on your face momentarily before dropping to your hands resting in your lap.

"Uh... thanks again, by the way. You know. For taking care of me and all," he blurts out, trying to resist the temptation to reach out and hold your hand, his own hands now clenching into fists on either side of him on the bed.

"No problem. We're a team, remember?" you say in a more cheerful manner, giving him a slight smile. One that he returns almost on a whim. Though, as you look at him a bit closer, you hum and reach back for the antibacterial cream. Before he knows it, he feels the pads of your fingers dabbing the cool cream on the side of his cheek. You applying the cream to his cheek leaves him feeling a slight sting, but the warmth of your touch on his skin helps to distract him from it. He didn't even realize he had a cut there. He's pretty sure it was relatively tiny. It wasn't really needed at all to take care of it, but you still did it anyway, and your smile grew a little wider as you pulled your hand away. "-There. Good as new. Y'know... ignoring the bullet wound, huge scary bruises and a good number of cuts."

Despite knowing he's far from 'good as new', Leon can't help but laugh at your playful comment. It helps him relax a little, some weight lifted off his shoulders.

"Yeah, yeah, keep making fun of me. You didn't like it so much when those dogs were trying to bite your face off, huh?" A small smirk forms on his face as he teases you back in a lighthearted manner that a good friend would. Though,  the subject is rather... morbid. But it helps to joke about those things. A little.

He wants to say more, to come up with something witty or charming, maybe even muster up some cheesy pick-up lime to try and see if he can get away with it. But as he glances at you again, his words become stuck in his throat all over again. It's impossible for him not to focus on your face, taking in every tiny detail and drinking them all in with a hunger that feels almost scarily insatiable. This particular moment between you two has an oddly charged quality to it, as if there's more than just friendly banter filling the stale air of the motel room. He feels an intense and unexplainable desire to be closer to you, to touch you, to...

He swallows hard, trying to push these invasive thoughts out of his head. He chastises himself internally for being absurd. After all, you're just a friend and teammate. Supposedly. Whatever you were to him, his behavior is strange, like an infatuated teenager with a pathetic crush he has no idea what to do with. For fuck's sake, he is a 21-year-old police officer.

...Technically speaking, that is.

But he lacks any sort of control over his heart rate or sweaty palms. He can't help but look down at your lips repeatedly, as if he's being persuaded to do so against his own will.

As you let out a weary sigh of your own, you seem to be utterly oblivious to the inner struggle he is currently experiencing unbeknownst to you. The room is quiet, but your troubled and contemplative gaze is fixed ahead of you instead of looking at him. Leon doesn't know if that makes him feel better or worse. A huge, pathetic part of him wants your eyes to be on him, to be your center of attention like he was moments prior. But another part of him is utterly mortified at the prospect, knowing he'll probably just fumble like an idiot if you were to meet his blatant stare right now.

He's stuck between a rock and a hard place.

The shutter cracks welcome the morning sunlight in, creating long, bright yellow stripes across your features. You look beautiful like this, but he can't help but want to know what's on your mind that has you looking so distant, like you're in a world completely separate from this one. And them, much like you did with the kiss to his knuckles, you don't say anything to warn him. He just watches as you lean down and rest your head on his good shoulder. You remain silent, immersed in your own thoughts. Almost like it's a completely normal thing to do between you two. Or maybe you just don't want to address it? He couldn't really figure it out. He couldn't figure you out. And he couldn't really figure himself out, either. 

Everything was a big, convoluted mess.

Another strong rush of emotions hits him straight across the face at the sudden closeness you grace him with. It's funny, really. Here he was, wanting to get all close and personal with you, and now that that's exactly what's happening, his brain is completely blank. He makes an effort to take a deep breath, but it comes out shaky and uneven. He is also suddenly acutely aware of his own lack of clothing on his upper half. He longs to express himself to you in some meaningful way, but still finds himself unable to say a single damn word. A chaotic mix of thoughts and cravings overwhelms his mind, taking over his every sense. Gradually, he does manage to bring himself to move. To extend his arm and gently drape it around your shoulders, drawing you in closer to him, watching how you'd react and if he should pull back and shower you with awkward apologies that were already forming on the tip of his tongue. He can sense the gentle, rhythmic pulsation of your heart against his bare skin, and that feeling is almost intoxicating in how soothing it is.

He kind of wishes he could lay his head down directly on your chest, just to listen to your heartbeat. That would certainly keep his head empty of any and all thoughts, big and small.

You make a soft noise that sounds like one of approval, moving slightly closer to him, your bodies now comfortably intertwined in a clumsy side-snuggle. A surge of protectiveness suddenly comes over Leon when you cuddle closer to him like that. Silently, he squeezes you a just a little bit tighter, letting a pleasant shiver run down his spine as your body touches his, filling out the dips and contours of his form with your own, almost like two puzzle pieces fitting together. The gesture holds an undeniable amount of intimacy, and he feels a strong desire to just keep holding you and never let go.

Now, Leon finds himself being silent to conserve the moment, rather than due to awkwardness. There is a delicate sense of wordless understanding and reliance that has formed between you, without it having to be solely platonic or romantic in nature. He's uncertain how to interpret it exactly, and whether you even want him to interpret it in some specific way. For now, he simply acknowledges that your warm presence near him sooths him in a way that he desperately needs, regardless of what that entails for you two. In a way, it gives him a feeling of calmness he was longing for this entire time. A brief reprieve from all the chaos and uncertainty of the past, present,  and future.

He leans forward, carefully placing his chin on top of your head, and then closes his eyes, focusing on nothing but the soft feeling of your body pressed against his. He can hear the soft and soothing sound of your breath and the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, which makes him feel strangely...

At peace.

He can feel you nuzzle into him ever so slightly, clearly being careful not to disturb his achy shoulder, which makes him smile fondly, finding the gesture endearing in a pure and uncomplicated manner. It is comforting to not be alone, in a fundamentally human sense. Maybe he needed a moment such as this one for a while now. He just didn't know that until he had it.

Leon inhales the scent of your hair as he takes a deep breath. It smells of motel's cheap shampoo, which is unsurprising. All four of them probably smell the same right now. But he doesn't really care. He is unable to resist the urge to bury his nose into your hair slightly, as if attempting to absorb your scent. Is that a bit weird on his part? Maybe. But he feels far too content to care about his dignity at this point.

Tgough, the moment breaks rather abruptly, as you move pull back from him, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly. Leon feels a familiar sense of disappointment deep in his gut when you withdraw from him, but he tries his best to conceal it from you, not wanting to appear too needy in front of you. Even if he really was needy. Despite his heart still racing, he shakes it off and attempts to appear unaffected. Very poorly.

"...Sorry. You must be cold like that. The cream probably settled already, so..." you mutter out without looking at him directly, but he cuts you off, the words leaving the tip of his tongue before he can think them through.

"It's fine," his tone is gruff. "I'm not cold."

Despite being aware that there is nothing inherently intimate about this situation, he still feels oddly exposed in front of you. The thought of you observing his bare skin out in the open only increases his already fast-paced heartbeat. After all the events of the night before, it feels... strange to feel his blood pumping in his temples, and it not being a result of something horrifying or life-threatening. He attempts to divert his eyes from you, but they persistently return back to your face. He was being drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Though, your warmth was nothing like one coming from a flame. He wasn't scared of you burning him if he gets too close. No, rather, he was terrified of your gentle light to turn off, leaving him without its comforting warmth to grasp onto.

He can't help but focus on your lips in particular, already reminiscing about the moment you kissed his knuckles. His thoughts are now pretty much haunted by this one memory, replaying it incessantly like a broken record.

Don't give in, don't give in, don't give in...

He repeats it to himself in his own head, but he finds it increasingly harder and harder to follow his own advice. His hands are clenched tightly on his lap, causing his bruised knuckles ache in protest. But it's all he can do to resists the urge to reach out to you, and...

"-Sorry," you suddenly repeat, your attention fully focused on his tightly clenched hands. Damn it, you probably think he's uncomfortable or something. He can see that guilty look in your eyes, and he hates it. He doesn't want you to look at him like that. "I... didn't mean to make things weird. Don't worry about it. I don't-"

Leon shakes his head, but keeps looking straight at your face dutifully. His heart is beating so fast that it seems like it could burst straight out of his chest any moment now, eager to show you how excited you truly make him with the smallest of things. It's becoming almost too much for him to handle the desire to kiss you. And not just your knuckles.

"No... it's not that," he protests in a slightly hoarse voice. His words stop as he shifts his eyes down to your lips again and then back up to meet your hesitant gaze, searching for something he can't really put his finger on. He is able to see every aspect of your face crystal clear in the soft light of the morning sun: the way your eyelashes create faint shadows on your cheeks, the gentle curve of your lips, the subtle color flush on your skin. "You didn't make things weird. I just..."

Your lashes flutter, your body tensing ever so slightly as you finally take notice of his very apparent staring, causing Leon to hold his breath momentarily. A part of him expects to receive a scolding he probably deserves. But it never comes. Instead, an unexpected sense of tension settles between you, catching him completely off guard and leaving him uncertain about where this was going exactly. Or maybe he just doesn't want to acknowledge the truth. Even so, he allows it to persist and guide him without any resistance or attempts to distance himself from you. Not that he wants to resist this pull in the first place.

He can almost taste the saltiness of your skin on his lips. He can almost hear the soft sound of your breath. And he can almost sense the subtle scent that is uniquely yours. The emotional intimacy between you is almost too much for him handle. So, without much thought, he moves in and gently cups your cheek, lifting your face towards his, wanting - no, needing - to be closer to you.

"...Leon?"

The subtle sound of your voice uttering his name causes his heart to stop momentarily. He can see it in your eyes that you do understand the silent implication behind this sudden action of his. After all, clarification is not exactly necessary to catch on to what he trying to do here. The feel of your skin beneath his fingers sends a slight shiver through his body. Despite this, your eyes remain locked together, almost as if you were sharing a wordless conversation between each other.

Leon swallows. He gently strokes your lower lip with his thumb, relishing in the sensation of it beneath his fingertip. Even if it's chapped and dry from last night's events. His voice is just a soft whisper now as he voices the silent question that's on the forefront of his mind: "...Can I kiss you?"

There is a moment of hesitation between you, but you don't move to pull away or reject him. He can guess that you're mulling over your own thoughts and doubts in that pretty head of yours. Though he wishes he could know what you're thinking of right now. If you want this as much as he does. But he waits patiently for you to share your answer with him once you do find it. Whatever it may be.

And then, you give him a slow nod.

As you stare back at him, Leon feels a sudden tightness in his throat. He knows he's being a bit too emotional about all of this, but your little nod feels like an agreement, approval, and acceptance all at once. Without any further delay, he leans in and gently cups your other cheek now as well, holding your face in his palms, letting your breaths mix for just a smidge of a moment.

Is it a wise decision? Clearly not. You've just met. The fact that you were able to survive a dangerous and challenging situation together doesn't alter that fact. However... in a way, it still does. Leon feels secure with you. The unspoken trust built between you two is difficult to articulate in words. The kind of trust that can only form when you experience a challenging ordeal only you can understand the full extent of. Which is why he doesn't try to explain it. Not when you two can explore it through action, instead.

When he does finally lean towards you, you meet him halfway, much to his relief, your lips inevitably locking together lightly. He closes his eyes and drinks in the delicate sensation of warmth and comfort that comes from sharing this simple human contact with you. The sensation of your lips on his makes Leon's mind blissfully empty. He resists the urge to embrace you tightly and hold you close. Compared to the intense passion he feels burning within his chest, the kiss itself feels hesitant and almost innocent in nature. Nonetheless, it triggers a pleasant surge of heat in his veins. He can feel the warm of your hand on his skin as you place it atop of one of his own hands cradling your cheeks, causing his heart to beat even faster within his chest.

Your circumstances don't make it particularly romantic or mind-blowing. The kiss is a bit clumsy, as first kisses usually are, when you don't exactly know how to fall into step with the other person yet. Your lips are dry and cracked, just like his are, due to the previous night. There is even a faint taste of blood that can be felt in the kiss, as one of you definitely split their lip during the numerous falls you both endured. However, none of that is a major issue for him. If anything, it makes it more precious in his mind. How real and authentic it feels.

The kiss is a soft and lingering one that doesn't extend beyond that.

And when you eventually pull apart from one another, concluding the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours, keeping his eyes closed tightly, a shaky breath leaving his lips. Your hand remains on top of his, the touch bringing him a nice feel of wordless reassurance. That you're really there. That you did just kiss, and it wasn't just some weird trick of his frazzled mind.

You weren't going away. Nor were you asking anything of him with that kiss. It was just a kiss. No hidden meanings or agendas in mind. Somehow, that makes it all that much more meaningful for him.

There is a strange sense of vulnerability he has to get used to, both physically and emotionally. The intensity of his emotions causes his body to tremble slightly against you. He remains close to you like this for a couple of long minutes, unprepared for the enchanting moment to come to its inevitable end. He absorbs the subtle scent of your hair hitting his nose, the warm sensation of your skin on his, and the soothing sound of your breath. He longs for this moment to last, and finding his voice again after kissing becomes a rather difficult task.

You also exhale, calming down after that short but sweet moment of connection with him. You don't express much about what just happened between you. You don't think it's even necessary. You simply know that it was sincere and enjoyable. And it seems that Leon felt the same way, too. At least you hope he does. Whatever that meant for your relationship in the long run, you know you don't regret it. You keep your eyes shut for a few more moments, staying close to him.

"Y/N..." he whispers your name in a low voice that sounds almost shy. You can't help but find the sound of him like this rather adorable, your heart giving out a subtle flutter in your chest.

Leon opens his eyes slightly, the blues of his irises meeting yours intently as you follow suit. The soft kiss you just shared is still running through your heart, leaving you feeling just slightly giddy. As you often do after kissing someone you like for the first time. And that dopey look of his is just too damn cute to bear.

So, you blurt out the first thing you that comes to mind. 

"...You know, I actually hate cops."

Leon blinks. Once. Twice. Thrice.

...Alright, that was probably not the most romantic thing to say right after kissing him for the first time.

"Uh... Really?" he manages to ask, even though he's obviously still very much dazed from the kiss. Which is honestly kind of endearing, considering how it was just a short but sweet little kiss. You can't help but wonder how he'd look if you kissed him again, properly this time. How he would look at you if you were to lean in and kiss him senseless. But you don't do that. For now, at least. Either way, it's obvious that the emotional whiplash you just gave him with your silly comment only contributed to the stupefied look he's giving you. "But you just kissed one..."

Leon's lips form a small but genuine smile as he lets out a quiet little laugh, a clear hint of disbelief in his voice. You feel his thumbs caress the apples of your cheeks gently as he continues to hold your face in his hands, the sensation warm and comforting to your heart.

"Huh. You're right. I guess I'm being a bit hypocritical today," you chortle, a small giggle leaving your lips in return. You can see his smile growing in response to your laugh, and it's a sight a bit too adorable for you right now.

He has a pretty smile.

"I guess you are," he agrees, his eyes briefly glancing over your face, as if he was taking in your features. Or maybe he was just marveling at how beat up you look. "But I don't mind. I think... I sort of like you being hypocritical. Just a little."

With another soft laugh, you gently squeeze his hand on your cheek, tilting your head to the side slightly and resting your face against his palm, practically nuzzling into a bit. You press his hand closer to your cheek and close your eyes for a moment, a content sigh leaving your lips. Your peaceful expression of serenity mirrors Leon's, as he looks on at you with that same sense of quiet satisfaction and solace that was filling the quiet space between you.

Your chest tightens as you feel his thumbs stroke your skin again, the touch gentle and light. The soothing warmth and softness of his skin on yours causes your heart to skip a beat. You suddenly find yourself seriously struggling to resist the urge to kiss him again. It wasn't just a passing curious thought anymore, but a genuine desire you are itching to fulfill. But, for now, you just exhale and enjoy this fragile moment as it is. At this very minute, all the chaos and peril you two have dealt with vanish from your mind at long last. Replaced by this tranquil, modest motel room, reserved only for you and him. At the very least, for this brief moment.

Unfortunately, your little exchange is abruptly interrupted by the earth-shattering sound of a door suddenly bursting open, none other than Claire entering the compact room without any warning given to either of you. That, or maybe you two were just far too lost in each other to hear the approaching footsteps or chatter. A peppy grin is brightening up the redhead's features as she strides in with no care in the world, seemingly far too engrossed into some vigorous discussion with Sherry to fully notice you quite yet. If it wasn't for the situation at hand, you'd probably comment on how buddy-buddy they looked: swaggering in hand-in-hand, almost like two sisters would. 

The entire space is quickly overpowered with the strong aroma of freshly cooked greasy food, and you immediately feel your stomach twist and turn in clear demand for some much-needed sustenance. The bags of what looked like your standard roadside diner takeout sure looked promising right about now.

"Rise and shine, dynamic duo! Breakfast's here- Oh."

As Claire's bright eyes inevitably land on the two of you, she stops right in her tracks, just blinking at you for a second or two. Sherry, in turn, appears to be just as surprised, not that you expected anything else at this point. 

...And you feel a strong urge to sink straight into the ground.

As if he's been burned, Leon abruptly jerks away from you and releases his hold on your face. Your heart pounds all the way up in your throat, and you can already feel the heat of embarrassment rushing to your face. Glancing over at Leon, he doesn't seem to be handling it all that much better, his cheeks flushed and his lips parted in silent protest that just didn't form yet. Though, there is also a subtle hint of embarrassed annoyance flashing through his eyes as he meets Claire's look. A look that is no longer surprised, but instead, expecting. And a bit smug.

You're in for a questioning. 

As expected, she is quick to regain her cool, raising her brows at both of you and closing the door with her hips, an incredulous snort leaving her lips. You can already guess that she's not going to live this down for the two of you. Before you can open your mouth and stutter out some type of excuse that would hopefully sound decent, Leon beats you to it.

"Jesus Christ, Claire! Knock much?" he grumbles out in a raspy and slightly trembling voice. If it wasn't for the burning embarrassment raging inside your head, you would have thought that was cute. He isn't really fooling anyone.

"Excuse me," Claire muses in a slightly humorous manner. "Care to tell what's gotten you shirtless? Or... who?"

Now it's up to you to sputter as you stumble over your words to try and rectify the situation.

"I-I was just changing his bandages!"

Claire just laughs at that, with Sherry now joining in a fit of giggles. The sound is lighthearted in nature, though. Just harmless fun that just happens to be at your expense. Well, partially. Your only choice is to accept your defeat, hanging your head low with a flustered groan. Leon's embarrassment only increases as laughter rings out. He crosses his arms over his chest, a pout quickly taking form on his face.

"Ugh, you two really have a knack for bad timing. And... for the record, it's none of your business what we were doing," even though he tries to sound irritated, his flushed face and the slightest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips diminish the desired effect, making his effort useless.

"-Whatever you say, loverboy," Claire deadpans, giving you both a knowing smirk as she waves Leon off. It's apparent that she doesn't believe any of your shared excuses. Not that you can blame her. You'd probably act the same if you switched places. She takes her sweet time placing the warm fast-food bags on the nearest counter and brushing her hands off on her jeans. "Anyway, you better get dressed before the grub gets cold and soggy."

In spite of all the embarrassment, you can't help but chuckle sheepishly and shake your head. Despite being flustered, it's almost... comforting to share such a normal, simple moment over some silly accident instead of a high-stakes situation. You'll take getting teased by Claire over running for your life any day.

You watch as Leon huffs and puffs at Claire fruitlessly. He mumbles something inaudible under his breath, unfolding his arms, and quickly walking across the room to pick up his discarded shirt from the ground. He hastily puts it back on, all while stealing a couple of glances back at you. You don't know if he's trying to subtle about it, but if he is, it's definitely not working. A small, almost bashful smile appears on his face as he does, similar to the one you give to your crush when you think they're not looking. It's cute. You can't help but return it with a smile of your own.

"Well I think you two look cute," Sherry joins in, her hands resting on her hips as her blue eyes dart between you two with eager curiosity. You can already tell that you're in for a game of 20 questions after this. Or something similar.

"Cute, huh...?" Sherry's charming comment seems to inspire Leon's bashful smile to grow in confidence while he looks down at her. He almost appears a bit cheeky, as raises an eyebrow and gives you a quick side-eyed look. "What do you think? Do we make a cute couple?"

"...Don't get cocky now," you huff out with a lighthearted roll of your eyes, prompting him and Claire to chuckle.

As you go to grab some much-needed food, you feel oddly light, both in mind and spirit. All the anxieties and uncertainties about your future seem to have eased away, letting you enjoy the peacefulness of now, instead of worrying about tomorrow.

Whatever happens next, you just know that everything will turn out fine.

As long as you stick together.

[leonsobsession]

Leon Kennedy headcannons.

I have done a few of them in the past but I guess we could dive a bit deeper into how I see Leon, taken from his behavior.

~ Trust easily: And oh have he been burned because of that. Leon always want to see the best in people and often tend to trust people too quick.

~ Autistic: Leon has a milder type, atypical autism. He has trouble to catch up on jokes, trouble opening up about his emotions, tend to shut people out when they show too much affection. Note: I have atypical autism and I can see myself in many of his traits and I’m aware it’s trauma but it’s my head cannon.

~ Likes being outside: Leon loves outdoor activities wether it’s biking, walking or even camping. He will ask you occasionally if you want to go camping somewhere.

~ Not very gun-type of guy privately: despite him working with guns, he is a strong believer in anti-violence and would rather see the world be at peace.

~ Loves music: Leon focus best when he’s listening to music and depending on mood, he likes both jazz and industrial music.

~ Baths over showers: Nothings like sinking his body in the bath tub after a long day. Even with some scents and candles lit.

~ Hates mornings: but loves waking up with you. As long as he can snuggle up in the mornings with you, he’s happy.

~ Hard time showing emotions: especially when it’s the negative ones. He don’t often talk about his problems or feelings unless you ask a few times. He knows you do it because you love him.

A few headcannons I had in my head! Idk, let me know if there’s anything in particular you want to see <3

[sarahsartistportfolio]

Ok so I've watched vendetta, I've read his wiki but I still dont feel like I know a lot more about Chris? I can find some self insert fics with him but not a lot, I've seen way more fics for Leon or even Carlos.

I expected more love for Chris since he's like one of the oldest characters. Was I right in my assumptions in him? Is he just a boring meathead?? Is that why not a lot fans want to fuck him???😂

All I've learned about Chris is, he loves his sister, he's very brave and wants to help people. This doesn't satisfy me I need more. I need to know how he fucks. How he would confess his deep undying love for me. Can anyone else name any other traits he has besides loveable meathead?

[desired-misery]

How whumptober is going for me: 25k, 3 fics in various states of completion.

How whumptober is going for Leon: “I'll get him to break right fucking now.”

The soldier drops his knee into Leon’s shoulder, pinning him with a nasty combination of weight and pain compliance. The same soldier as earlier, the one who used the old scar as leverage— he will put it together what has Leon in a panic, what needs to happen, fuck—

[porcelainseashore]

Teenage Headache Dreams (1)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: High School! College! Leon Kennedy x Dancer! Fem! Reader

Summary: You’re a bored, but ambitious high school student who can’t wait to escape small town life and make it in the big city. You thought you had it all figured out, until you unwittingly befriend the resident golden boy, Leon. A series of events beginning from junior year to college until Resident Evil 2 Remake.

Warnings: 18+ Swearing, Recreational Drug Use, Eventual Smut, No (Y/N), Ambiguous/Open Ending

Content: High School AU, College AU, Pre-Resident Evil 2, Fluff, Romance, Cliche, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Lack of Communication

Author's Note: This is my first RE / Leon fic, but I wanted to try my hand at writing this little self-indulgent and potentially clichéd series. As you can guess, I love dance and high school dramas. I also created this with a sequel in mind, which will take place post-RE4R and involve more horror and mystery elements.

Title from Teenage Headache Dreams by Mura Masa and Ellie Rowsell / Wolf Alice.

AO3 Link

Chapter 1: An Unexpected Friendship

It was one of those beautiful late summer days with endless light and clear blue skies overhead. You leaned back against the bleachers, feeling the sun cast a warm glow on your face and the sultry breeze against your skin, sighing in utter bliss. The football field and the running track surrounding it were completely empty, just how you liked it, silent except for the relentless trilling of insects and the occasional bird that flew by. No one in your face, no one judging you or telling you how you should be like, no one you had to put up a front for. Just peace and quiet. A place where you could sit alone with your thoughts - and you had a lot of them - mostly about leaving this goddamn small town with its insular, mind-numbing inhabitants.

A trail of thick smoke wafted from your mouth as you took a drag from the joint you had been nursing for awhile. You weren’t exactly high as a kite, but you were definitely feeling some of its effects. You chuckled and gave a wry smile as the thought of being caught red-handed visualized in your mind. Sure, it was highly illegal what you were doing, much less on school property, but you were always a bit of a rebel. And frankly, you couldn’t give a shit. It was already August, but most students were still away on holiday. Not you though, you had to work on your extracurriculars. That’s what you had put your mind to this summer. No fancy beach getaways like the rest of your cheerleading mates had jetted off to. Just a grueling dance intensive and showcase you had auditioned successfully for in one of the larger cities nearby, as well as a bunch of campus visits. You needed to perfect your performance technique for that arts college application coming up in about a year’s time. You started way earlier than the rest even thought about it, because you knew you only had one chance for a one-way ticket out of this hole and you sure as hell weren’t taking any chances. Well, except with that funky smelling thing in your hand. 

No one would be here anyway, it’s a Sunday for crying out loud! You shook your head in exasperation. Besides, you needed to relax and take the edge off a little.

Just as if you jinxed it with those thoughts, you heard the gate to the field unlocking and creaking open behind you. 

Shit, shit, shit! Your eyes darted around frantically, but your movements were just so slow. Why the fuck would someone be here now?

Before you could drop the joint and stub it out with your shoe, a mop of dirty blonde hair and what you made out as someone dressed in a blue tracksuit with a duffel bag slung over his right shoulder entered your peripheral vision. It was soon accompanied by a sharp twist of his head in your direction, bangs falling over his deep blue eyes and you knew he had found the source of the offending smell, probably even from a mile away. His gaze trailed their way from your startled face to your joint hanging limply at the edge of your fingers and then back to your face again. His expression turned from confusion to a frown and then into a knowing smirk as he crossed his arms and leaned against the bleachers.

“Oh, hello. Didn’t expect to see you here. You got cheer practice or something?”

God, he was teasing you. At least you hoped that was all it was and not some form of blackmail. Well, no point hiding now.

“I’m off-duty,” you retorted. You tried to jog your memory of the boy standing in front of you. You were social, or at least you had to be with the rest of your girlfriends to keep up appearances, but you never really bothered with the people here beyond superficial conversations. Then you finally found it - a vague recollection of last season’s track and field meet. He had been one of the better sprinters, maybe the best even, you can’t really remember. There was an afterparty, and you congratulated him, but you doubt there was anything more substantive than that.

“Leon, isn’t it?”

His eyes perked up slightly and he smiled. “In the flesh.”

You snorted at his cheesy reply. What was he pulling? 

“They gave you the key?” It almost sounded as if you were jealous.

He uncrossed his arms and placed his duffel bag on one of the benches in front of him, rummaging through its contents. “Yeah, I got a comp in the new term coming up.” Every now and then he glanced up at you, as if he wanted to ask something, but stopped himself.

A sense of boldness surged within you, as you felt like evening the odds a bit. “What? You want some?” You waved the joint in his face.

That certainly caught his attention. He stared for a good moment, before giving another one of his playful smiles and shaking his head. “Maybe after practice.” He unzipped his jacket and put it away. It was warm enough to train in his sports tank and as you admired the lean, muscular structure of his arms and shoulders now bared open, you couldn’t complain.

“So, how did you get in?”

Fuck. You snapped out of your reverie. He got you there, but you didn’t feel like lying. “Jumped the fence. You should try it some time.” You replied as nonchalantly as possible.

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” he laughed.

“Oh, you’d be surprised.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Will I now?” The way it rolled off his tongue felt like a challenge and you secretly enjoyed this banter going on between you, as if you had known each other for years.

Shrugging your shoulders, you took another hit from the joint and let the calmness envelope you. “I never disappoint.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Leon flashed a wide grin that made you feel a knot forming in your stomach, but you didn’t know why. 

He started to move towards the tracks, but stopped short, turning back to meet your eyes again. “Look, you don’t have to worry about all of that.” He gestured to what you were holding and the general surroundings. “I’m not going to tell.” With that, he made a sign that resembled crossing his heart. “It’ll be between you and me.” 

You would have thought it was a joke if not for the sincere look he gave you, before heading off to train. That, and the fact that he did indeed take up your offer to join you afterwards in sharing what was left of the joint. You didn’t expect someone like him to. He seemed a bit too much of a straight-laced, golden boy for that. But then again, life was filled with surprises and you quietly scolded yourself for playing into stereotypes again - something you despise others doing to you.

It prompted both of you to converse even more until the late evening where you even missed your dinner. The questions and responses just flowed.

It turned out that you would share a number of classes together in the new term, specifically Math, History and Biology. Leon was a real earful when it came to his “insightful” one-liners on the teachers, which made you bury your head in your hands and groan. You never realized he would be such a goofball, but you found it somewhat endearing.

Like you, he was popular at school, but unlike you, he seemed to enjoy the company and appeared to be an open book. He would say it how it is, sometimes to the point of being blunt to a fault. Still, you guessed people found him rather easy-going and likable, in a non-threatening sort of a way. A part you wondered if chance meetings like today were how he made most of his friends.

Leon didn’t really have a plan for college yet. He just knew he wanted to do something good and help other people. You had a word for it - “idealistic”. He just shrugged in response, eyes downcast, until you assured him that it was an admirable quality, and you were the jaded one. He made a toast to your future in some arts college in the big city with his water bottle, remarking with a hint of self-deprecation that he wished he had a clearer idea of what he wanted to do with his life.

In turn, he asked you about your dealer. You had to stifle a laugh at that one. Generally, you weren’t as big into smoking up as he thought, but this time you bummed it off one of the seniors as a favor he owed you for hooking him up with one of your cheerleader friends. It didn’t stop Leon from calling you the “high school’s little pothead” every now and then though. He peered at you intently with his lip curled in amusement, as you rolled your eyes each time.

It had been such a long time since you could joke and speak your mind with someone this way. There wasn’t that suffocating nausea of pretending to be someone else around him and he had been so relaxed with you too. You could finally breathe again, and you’d like to think it wasn’t just the weed talking.

Whatever it was, you guessed this was the beginning of a real friendship - one that happened out of serendipity, but made you feel like you weren’t going to rot away in this small town. Well, not alone anyway.

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 28

welcome to the twenty-eighth fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.  

1. sunflower [re] by xintong

On the morning of their first summer back on Earth, Lance receives a gift of sunflowers. A confession, a rejection, and the passage of time, all leading to the one person who's always been there for him.

this is one of those fics that just kind of remakes a part of you a little. im gonna go with the bookmark i did when i first read it:

screaming and losing my mind bc there were so many fucking moments man. so many. i get jealous too. all the time. anyone that looks at you. still the other half of his wings. i would wait all my lifetimes for you even if you never looked my way. you’re everything. the beginning and end of time. you have wings love. just like an angel. i want to make this good for you. for us. i want it to be good for you too. why. because i dream of you. every night. you’re the devil. who you adore. yes. yes. will you go somewhere with me. anywhere. i never wrote before i met you. you gave me something to write about. they don’t need to say it. i love you i love you i love you. it’s in everything they do.

anyways read this fic.

2. where you go by @taylortot

post s8. keith visits lance when he can, but his work with the blade keeps him out in space for months at a time, and he is tired of leaving lance behind.

okay i know this is yet another rec from me thats rambly and pretentious but soft fics Make me feel that way so here u go. everything about this is the most important thing in the world. as per usual with taylortot. my breath is unsteady and my hands are shaky because they just fucking love each other!!! so much!!!! it’s about the DEVOTION. i’m tired of leaving you. i don’t want to do it anymore. it’s about wanting to be with you. that’s it? that’s it. of course i’ll go with you. i thought you’d never ask. i should have asked before. that was never a choice. (YOU were never a choice). i knew you would come back to me. it’s about the DEVOTION is about the LOVE it’s about the i know you i love you i trust you there’s no one i want but you and you are everything to me. it’s about everything i do for my future i do for our future. it’s about i love you even though words are hard to come by and nothing i could say could ever properly tell you how much you mean to me. GOD

3. a reverence reserved for lovers by @softsatoru [EXPLICIT]

“Hello, my love.” They were far past the point of timidity, and Keith had long since gotten used to the pet names and sappy moments. Hell, Keith had been all about pet names and sappy moments as they were reciting their vows. It was so easy now, just like everything was with them. It had been for years and years, but especially now. This moment, this night, was so easy. It was so right.

Lance grinned and dropped his head back against the pillows with a deep, content sigh. He kept one hand threaded through Keith’s hair and slapped the other over his eyes. The gold band around his ring finger glinted in the low, warm light of their bedroom.

“Ew,” Lance mumbled, trying to contain his smile. “We’re married.” Keith chuckled and pulled himself off his husband. Lance’s hand fell from his hair and dropped down to his bare back. Long, slender fingers pressed into his skin, as if to hold him in place. Keith settled himself above Lance and placed soft kisses on his knuckles and the back of his hand. He gripped Lance’s wrist and tugged it away from his face. Lance’s eyes were clenched shut, and he scrunched up his nose in playful defiance. Keith’s lips fell atop each eyelid, the tip of his nose, and both cheeks.

“Yeah,” Keith agreed. He nosed at Lance’s jaw, dipping down to kiss down his neck. “So gross.” He smirked to himself before licking a wide stripe up the side of Lance’s face.

“Hey!” Lance yelped at him, playfully slapping his back, but he couldn’t help but laugh. “Gross! You’re proving my point.”

i fucking love this fic it 100% lives up to its name. it IS a reverence reserved to lovers and they are. they are so sweet and in love and devoted, man, its just everything. you just want to read it and weep

4. the dark, wide open by @taylortot

Lance flushes clear up to his hairline, the heat of it frying his brain. “Are there any other incorrect observations you wanna make? Or can we go to bed?”

Keith misses nothing, tracking the warmth blooming all over Lance’s face with keen eyes. “None that you’d admit to,” he says in a murmur.

**

Lance and Keith share a bed.

i think ive mentioned the devotion scrapbook before, but i dont know if ive mentioned that like a quarter of all the screenshots i have are taylortot. they kill it with the dialogue every single time, the devotion bleeds through, the words unsaid speak louder than the words. kills me. 

5. this is your holy by littleghost

"He read a book of poems back in high school, and one line always hit him like a sucker punch to the throat. For you, love is like a religion. It’s terrifying. Keith looks at Lance in the pilot’s seat, Lance in the dining room, Lance on the bridge and thinks his love is too big for his body." // Keith falls in love with a boy.

okay i know i recced this before in a random post but i am doing it again. religious imagery always gets to me, and the idea of finding divinity in the mundane and not even finding it but realising that it IS the divine, the bum’s as holy as the seraphim the madman is holy as you my soul are holy! that’s from ginsberg’s footnote to howl btw, which is my favourite poem in the world and exactly what i hear chanted in my as i read it

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!  

[rexila-rites]

Clumsily started a collection for fanfics of Superthieves AU. Yes: Fanfiction for an AU fanfiction based on an AU animation inspired by a re-release of a video game remake of a mod for Half-Life 2.

Currently just a few fics from my buddies Gem_Alawas and caret (and one from me that's ambiguously placed in canon and silly enough I'd class it here) but there will be more down the line! Submissions are open but moderated for ease and yeah!!

Some really great ficlets came about from the server, so if you liked This Belongs In A Museum, you should check em out! :D

[pink-strawberry-kissess]

💗🍓💋 All of my artwork + moodboards 💋🍓💗

(i currently only cross post some of my artwork on my ao3! i do not post elsewhere! i do not post on pinterest/tiktok etc.)

(if you would like to share my artwork on twitter etc. link back to my blog and the artwork! thank you!)

re 6 leon x ada embrace

cable car scene leon x ada re2remake

cable car scene leon x ada re2remake (other colour version)

ada wong in og re4 dress

leon (re4r + infinite darkness + re6 meshed together)

leon sketch + lip marks + the elusive ada wong

“I’m taking a shower, and you’re coming with me.”

sunrise +  you’re breathtaking, no, you’re breathtaking

re6 leon practice drawing

“come along handsome,” “yes ma’am”

love bites - reprise + shower time?

leon x ada as spiderman x black cat

“draw your fave ship like this”

safe haven + “you’re breathtaking,” “no, you’re breathtaking” part 2

“spilled milk” + “he’s a good boy” sketch

“she’s got your eyes” aeon parents + aeon baby

red (leon’s fantasy lololol) +  midnight flower + it’s been a long, long time

helena harper my beloved

the lovers tw: blood/injury + the lovers [fallen version] tw: blood/injury

phone call sketch 

“take me one more time” (uncens0red version on my ao3)

fallen angels tw: blood/injury

“honeymoon” +  aeon in bed sketch

wet (uncensored version on my ao3)

werewolf! leon x ada au (village concept art inspired ada)

“mr. and mrs. kennedy” + family nap + aeon jazz club au

aeon week day 1 - separate ways (2023) +  day 3 - domestic life + day 5 - college AU +  day 7 - free day

doodle of village ada +  tempting fate inspired werewolf! leon x ada

adaadaadaadaada

aeon winter week day 1 - christmas (2023) + day 2 - mistletoe + day 3 - snow day + day 4 - baking + day 6 - hot chocolate - day 7 - free day (nsfw)

leon with aeon child doing his makeup

aeonvalentinesweek day 1 - dates + day 2 - polaroid + day 3 - gifts + day 4 - cupid + day 5 - desserts + day 6 - kisses + day 7 - free day

aeon comic with aeon twins

ada at sunset

aeon fluff week day 5 - waking up/domestic morning + aeon fluff week day 4 - vacation + aeon fluff week day 8 - bonus day (pregnancy au)

aeon summer week day 1 - beach day + day 2 - sunburns + day 3 - cruise + day 5 - stranded

Moodboards

Leon & Ada / Resident evil 2 remake

Leon & Ada / Resident evil 4

Leon & Ada / Resident evil 6

Leon & Ada / Resident evil Damnation

the night shift promo 

the night shift | security guard! leon kennedy x ada wong AU masterlist

the night shift | security guard! leon kennedy x ada wong AU (chap3 inspired)

the night shift | security guard! leon kennedy x ada wong AU (chap4 inspired)

the night shift | security guard! leon kennedy x ada wong AU (chapter 7 inspired)

werewolf au - general aesthetic & inspo

Picrews

Ada’s outfit ideas for my aeon au fic

[my masterlist here]

[winksasleeplesseye]

File #008 - This Much is True

City of the Dead

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x OC

Warnings: Slight mention of death

Word Count: 4.4k 

Previous Chapter  Next Chapter

Amara, Leon, and Ada’s first steps were to gather all that they could from the NEST lab. Correction, Amara and Leon’s first steps. As it turns out, being knocked off a platform by Annette Birkin into piles of trash doesn’t bode well for anyone, most of all Ada. 

A piece of shrapnel embedded itself in her leg and Leon had to be the one to bandage her leg, so now it was up to the two of them to retrieve a sample of what Ada called the G-Virus. 

Walking to the entrance of the lab made Amara realize how many leagues above her all of this was. Everything from the ceiling to the floor shines like a new penny, all the colors in this place were muted, Umbrella opting to stick to going full super evil corporation with all the black and white. 

Just about the only thing in this place that had even a hint of color was the splash of an almost blood-red in their logo plastered behind the front desk’s wall. Something about it all creeped her out. 

Amara had never really actually seen a place like this in real life, in movies? Sure, but they always were far enough removed from reality that one could never think they’d really exist. This really is some sci-fi bullshit. 

“If this place doesn’t scream evil, I don’t know what does,” Leon seems to read her mind. 

“Took the words right out my mouth.” 

First goal? Get the G-Virus. Second goal? Pilfer any info left that she can get her hands on from the computers. Maneuvering around the front desk, she fiddles with the mouse waking up the computer. She wasn’t only a sharpshooter on the Bravo team, she was the communications specialist…at least she could put her skill to good use again. 

Her fingers skirt across the keyboard, she’s not usually one for hacking but considering the computer is password protected, she needed to get in somehow. 

Umbrella11. UmbrellaCorp98. EvilPeople1. 

Those are just a few of the passwords that she tries, just for fun because they clearly don’t work. Guess hacking is the only option. She cracks her knuckles briefly. 

Leon comes behind her, looking at the screen as she began to work. “Since when did you become a hacker?” 

“First computer I ever played with as a kid was an Apple computer, computer classes were sparse on base but I took all the ones I could,” She explained, continuing typing. 

“That doesn’t explain how-” 

“Lots of curiosity, Leon.” She had hacked into the FBI and CIA databases once or twice before on a dare from Chris, Rebecca, and Forest one late working evening, it took her a good twenty minutes to calm them down. Then, they eventually tried to find the more silly documents about UFOs but had no luck.

“Won’t Umbrella know you’re hacking them?” Leon sounded a little more than distressed. For the first time in the whole evening, Amara is more than confident in something. 

“I could hack the government’s servers with the goddamn president’s computer and they wouldn’t know who did it. Relax, rookie. Who would they even send to stop me? A boogeyman?” 

“I wouldn’t push your luck around the monster magn-”

“Done.”

“Done?” He looked back at the screen, eyes widening as the email interface popped up. Their eyes both scanned every detail they could take in. “I’m impressed.”

“You’re welcome,” She smiles before getting up from the desk chair.

The emails detailed various correspondence between each scientist, and each section of the lab, all working on something different in what reveals itself to be a sprawling facility. 

The G-Virus was in the West area. So, West area they’ll go. 

Amara couldn’t help but marvel at the advanced technology and what had to be millions of taxpayer’s dollars that went into this underground labyrinth. Impressive. Leave it to Umbrella to build a monstrosity like this. 

As they moved deeper into the East wing of the facility (because of course, nothing is ever just easily accessible), Amara couldn’t help but notice the remnants of what she could only assume was disaster littering the halls. Mutated creatures, sickening amalgamations of flesh, skulls, and greenery that would arise, abandoned equipment, and corpses of scientists were all a bone-chilling sight. 

“Why would you ever need to hack anything?” Leon asks randomly, holding his gun at the ready for anything in this place. The area, the greenhouse she assumes, certainly had become overgrown with vines, they practically burst from the seams of the ceilings and floors. If the zombies weren’t bad enough, now they were wrapped up in dangerous flora. Fun. 

Amara briefly glances at Leon, noticing his focused expression. “STARS needed to know who we were dealing with, it was purely professional. Not like I’m stealing money or anything.”

“That’s fair.”

“Why? You gonna lecture me about patriotism or something, Mr. Kennedy?”

“After all this bullshit? I’m the last one to lecture.”

There’s a comfortable silence between them after that.

The silence unfortunately makes Amara more hyper-aware of the wound she waved off earlier. Every step, every vibration from the bottom of her shoes up to her waist made it hurt a little more. In fact, her legs had become a little more unsteady as time wore on. 

There’s a particular tingle in Amara’s muscles that seemed to be spreading. She’d likened it to the prick of needles on her skin or when an acupuncturist pressed those microneedles under someone’s skin or even the momentary loss of blood flow from applying too much pressure to a limb. 

Only problem? None of those were happening at the moment. That scared her more than anything, more than the zombies, or even the gross creatures she’d been fighting with Leon all night. 

She never considered herself one to get anxious about her health, every visit to her doctor gave her a clean bill of health, the standard for a woman in her line of work and her age. 

Hell, she barely ever got a cold but this gash, slash, wound, or whatever it was…is beginning to sting.

Damn it, why doesn’t she just tell Leon? 

It really, really scared her to admit that she may or may not turn into the very thing they’re trying to fight. A monster to be taken down. A mindless thing only craving flesh. That devastated her more than she wanted to let on because that would result in Leon having to eventually be the one to take her out of her misery, and she couldn’t quite accept that reality yet. 

That and the drive she still possessed, the rage of all that had happened—she couldn’t just die having failed her friends, failed the city she’d grown to love, failed in her purpose to be someone to be proud of.  Especially in a world that seemed determined to crush her under its heel.

So, she pushed down the pain once again. They needed to get that sample, and just maybe she could fight whatever is ravaging her body long enough to get out of there alive. 

Leon took the reins on solving the puzzles and passwords, he’d been more watchful of her since that encounter and a more stubborn part of her wanted to remind him that, goddamn it, he didn’t need to but the more in pain Amara relented, telling him she was fine and opting to look through all the computers they came across. 

One, in particular, threw her right back to the night she’d learned of everything. The emails were vaguely familiar to her. 

August 23, 1998

From: 89912309@mutemail.com 

To: jvalentine@aol.com; credfield@aol.com; stars@aol.com

Subject: TIP / Illegal Activity at Umbrella Corporation

You don't know me. Have to make this quick. They might be monitoring.

I’ve been working for a few months as a researcher at Umbrella Corporation facilities underneath Raccoon City. All sorts of NDAs I am very much breaking right now but seriously, fuck these guys.

Terrible things are happening here. Don't understand it. Don't believe half the things I saw.  Colleagues talking about viruses of some sort, creating something that is a perversion of every natural law I know. People are being hurt and Umbrella is making money.

It needs to be exposed.

Dated August 23. Two days before Amara got a call from Roslynn. Before Mayor Harris’ press conference. This is–was John’s computer.

Amara hadn’t seen this email in the files. She saw John’s correspondence with other researchers, questioning the morality of it all, but this one was hidden in folders deep on the desktop. They must’ve intercepted this one quickly, at least he had the sense to keep a backup. 

John’s logs echo the same as the files she’d found in his home office. Talks of test subjects in different trials and their reactions to “chemicals” that resulted in gruesome side effects. 

A beauty cream or medicine doesn’t exactly make your flesh rot off the bone, does it? Just reading about it made Amara’s gag reflex come in full force, but she also could attribute that to whatever flows in her veins.

Opening up the email interface once more, Amara decided to compose something to hopefully someone or someones that could use this information. Attachments and all. It’s what John would want her to do, she’s sure. 

September 30, 1998

From: 89912309@mutemail.com 

To: jvalentine@aol.com; credfield@aol.com

Subject: Don’t waste this.  (Attachment) 

Hopefully, these things find you both well, and find you by an internet cafe. 

Here’s hoping this information is enough. 

She hits send, powering down the computer. That was simple enough for them both. Though, this was assuming Jill already left the city as they planned. 

The East wing housed even more monstrosities if that were possible.

NEST was really living up to its name. Well, the name that Amara christened for it. As far as stupid lines, she didn’t have Leon beat though.

A nest of insanity. 

That made Amara briefly smile to herself again, stupid jokes made the world go around after all.

“How’s the side?” Leon asks, for what felt the billionth time. 

“Leon–” 

“I know you you’re hurting–”

“Please, drop it!” Amara snapped but instantly recoiled at the harshness of her own words. She hadn’t so much as risen her voice like that all evening. Until now, that is. “I didn’t–I’m sorry, Leon…I just want to get this over with. The sample is within reach. Don’t worry about me.” 

“I–fine. But at least let me put some of this medicine, I’m not budging this time. Fair enough?” 

This time, Amara, running on fumes, actually lets him help her.

“Absolutely fair. If it’ll help ease your mind,” Somehow, Amara finds the strength to push herself up on a nearby counter. 

Leon pulls out the said medicine, carefully pulling up the fabric of her shirt. This is probably the second time in the evening that their shared proximity made Amara’s head spin. The first was the hug he gave her earlier. Nobody had handled Amara quite like Leon was, he was gentle and meticulous about cleaning the wound in a way that didn’t have her wanting to wince at every touch. Her mind also couldn’t help but think that he was pretty good with his hands. 

His handling could be said for just about everything between them this evening, both of them seemed to be in sync. It kind of reminded her of Jill and Chris in a sense, those two seemed to be unstoppable when paired up. Amara definitely would’ve recommended Leon for a spot with STARS. Zombie outbreak, notwithstanding. 

“I care about you, more than I should,” he said softly, his eyes conveying a message of true worry that broke her out of her thoughts. 

The words of what she felt towards Leon formed more and more as the night wore on so her next sentence came to her easily.  

“I care about you too.” Leon stands back to full height, placing his left hand in hers and stroking her face with his right hand. “Seems I’ve got my own knight in shining armor, haven’t I?” 

“We’re not out of the tower yet, come on,” Leon pulls away, but gently helps her off the counter.

After readjusting her shirt, she surveys the room. Another lab, nothing special. All the necessary equipment for working with hazardous chemicals and viruses but her eyes happen upon a face…her face on one of the nearby monitors. Had she not glanced around, she might’ve missed it. 

“What the hell?” Her feet carry her over to said monitor. Leon is immediately puzzled by her movement. 

Her headshot from S.T.A.R.S.

She knows it is because she remembers that burgundy-colored shirt. It got stained not even five minutes later with juice Jill gave her that day. Her hair was also way shorter. The staff photographer told her, “You look great.” Though, Amara knew she kind of was running on three hours of sleep that day. 

Upon closer inspection, a file that is extensively detailed is laid out before her. These people needed to learn to close their tabs. Doctor Li seems to be the one that headed up her file. 

NAME: Amara Moore

AGE: 21

BLOOD TYPE: O- 

NOTES: Subject’s blood is fascinating. Her blood type already made her a perfect candidate for blood donation but studying it further has proven it fruitful.

Subject’s blood is predisposed to mutations. Not to mention, her blood response is exciting, implanting her blood with different antigens proved Wesker’s theory correct. 

It’s only a matter of time before we can fully acclimate the subject to what Doctor Wesker wants. How we’ll do that is anyone’s guess. 

That’s when it clicked in Amara’s head. Wesker stole her blood that very day. There was a blood drive that day outside the station, something that was an annual thing and part of the RPD’s community outreach. 

They tested her blood.

He wanted her to survive Spencer Mansion. He wanted her alive for this. Did he know this outbreak would happen? He wanted her to get infected somehow. The world could’ve fallen out from beneath her feet at this moment.

Shit. She’s infected…

…with what?

How could that be possible? That thing slashed her, not bite her. The answer is right before her eyes, yet she can’t process it. Her eyes felt like they had been looking at everything and nothing on the screen.

“You alright?” Leon asks, breaking her eyes from the screen. 

Something in her is screaming to tell Leon now. Tell him this but she stays silent.

“I’m good, just gathering more stuff for the authorities. Mind-boggling.”

“Oh, okay, you just…acted like you saw a ghost or something.” They walked away in silence, passing through a red-tinted fluorescent hall that sprayed out steam against them. More than likely to sanitize whoever walked in and out. Then another, these were blue-tinted. 

Amara examined the room with a slow sweep. Did this place not have one area in it that didn’t look straight out of a sci-fi film? Tanks line the wall, floor to ceiling, cylindrical tanks were what their technical name was. The liquid inside was clear but it was what was inside the tanks that were a little more…horrific. 

Lights inside the tank lit up weirdly misshapen, mangled body parts. One of them contained a form that only had red, huge yet beady eyes on the grey surface of it. Another looked like a set of hands, the last not even remotely resembling anything Amara could recognize as a life form. 

To the left, was their Holy Grail, which they all fought all night to get to. Ada called it G-Virus. 

There it sat, the last vial to sit within the container. 

Leon grabs it without a second thought, “Huh, that was easy.”

Amara’s gut reaction is to hit him in the arm gently. “Don’t say that, you’ll jinx it!” 

“Ouch! Easy with that arm!” 

“Please, I barely grazed you,” A weight lifted briefly for Amara. “Now let’s get the hell back to Ada.”

Just as they reach the other side, inching closer to freedom from this awful place, something crashes through the ceiling. 

Somehow, that thing that put her in this predicament is still alive. Amara rolls her eyes, she was less afraid of it, just more annoyed than ever actually. Does anything die in this fucking place? 

“You again?” 

“Your ass, again?” 

Leon and Amara both aim their guns, ready to go another round with this thing. 

“Move! He’s mine!” Annette visibly limping from some unknown injury, runs between them. “This has to end.” She loads a white, small gun with something. 

“This has to end.” One shot. 

“Sorry, William. You left me no choice.” The second shot is what seems to incapacitate the monster. A monster she called William? Amara and Leon cautiously approach it, though she wouldn’t dare touch it. The smell emanating from it held a pungent, irritating scent.  

It had grown exponentially since their last encounter, more pulpy, fleshy, and sinewy limbs and bits than she’d like, and yeah, certainly still more disgusting. An uncomfortable shudder rolled down her spine just thinking about the fact that she now has the same blood of this thing infecting her veins. 

“You called this thing William, why?” Leon asked Annette, kneeling close to it. She shook her head, looking over the creature that lay before them all. 

“It shouldn't have been like this,” she spoke, though it sounded less like a response to Leon, and more like an observation. “It’s Umbrella’s fault, this whole mess.” 

“You realize that you’re Umbrella too, right?” Amara raises a brow, she found it hard to give the woman the benefit of the doubt. 

Leon questions her more. “You saying you weren’t involved in this?”

“Yes…but we never meant for this to happen!”

“Tell us everything, right from the start.” 

And she does. Starting from the night that a team of soldiers came to retrieve the G sample from William, bloodied and in a rage having injected himself with G to go after them, all the way up to this very moment. Amara can’t help but find herself more intrigued by the developments, not in a good way. Leon seems to put two and two together, probably having found out more than Amara did in their time apart within the sewer facility. 

“So, you made this monster.” 

“We never intended this to happen.”

“You can spin this any way you want, you’re still responsible.” There’s no time to even react as William reawakened, thrashing about so swiftly that all Amara remembers is Annette, the momentum, and then it all goes black. 

Amara finds herself practically embedded into the wall, leaving a dent in its place. She must have passed out briefly. She opened her eyes slowly, letting out a choked cry when her brain registers the pain in her side and back. Someone had to be looking out for her because somehow her back isn’t broken. 

Leon, coming up from a lift, rushes over to her, “Amara, Jesus, are you okay?” 

She gazes up at Leon, vision blurred slightly at the edges but Leon is the clearest thing she can see. 

“You’re beautiful.”

He tries to fight a smile, albeit the worry on his face is more evident. He shines his flashlight briefly into one of her eyes. “And you’re concussed.” 

“No, it’s a c-clear, reason thought…or maybe my vision is a bit blurry.” Amara flashes him a stupid grin, trying to mask the pain. To be honest, that hit knocked all the air out of her lungs, and taking in breaths kind of…hurt. 

She definitely didn’t want to mention the fight earlier and that wound. The last time she looked at it underneath her shirt is when Leon applied the medicine, it looked disgusting but now she can feel it searing through her abdomen, it was a strange hot, and cold sensation. That thing had gotten her twice now. 

“Let’s get you up now, huh?” 

“Yeah, yeah…but I may have to take you up on that offer I offered earlier.” 

Leon doesn’t even hesitate, holstering his gun and carrying her like a bride on her wedding day. She wanted to remind him of the gunshot wound in his shoulder but it was hard to think with the throbbing pain her whole body was producing. “I’ve got you.”

“My hero,” Amara coughs out, still trying to lighten the mood. She just really needed some air to enter her lungs again. 

“We’re going back to the lab.” 

“But-“ Annette. Amara wasn’t the only one hurt, that monster crushed the former–she remembers that much, at least–, a sickening squelch as it squeezed her between its claws, tossing her aside much in the same way except Amara knew it had to be fatal. She called it William. 

Without Annette, what could possibly be done for her? 

Leon went as quickly as he could while carrying her, damn near stumbling against the door to the infirmary as it slid open. He put her down gently on the other cot, Sherry still occupying the other one. 

Claire must’ve left to get the medicine she needs. 

Amara notices a screen near the bed lights up, the readout on it seems to have scanned her. An infrared picture comes up on the screen. A robotic voice reads out what inevitably she didn't want to tell Leon. 

“G-Virus detected in the host.” He was frozen, eyes darting between the screen and her for any sign of deceit. He found none.

“Amara, why didn’t you say anything?” He asks, but Amara didn’t so much as twitch a muscle, Leon frowned. “Shit.”

“There has to be something here…an antidote maybe?” Leon asked her, a crack in his voice she’d never heard before. He asked as if Amara had the answer but she was just as stumped as he was. She wasn’t exactly resigned to her fate, but without Annette, there were no answers. 

“There’s…s-something…” Speak of the devil, Annette barely hanging onto life practically crawls through the doorway. “It’s where–where you found that sample.” 

Annette holds something in her hand. 

Sherry’s medicine. 

Claire comes in not even a moment later, helping Annette as best she can to get near Sherry.

Annette takes a few heaving breaths, “If you want to survive, you’ll need the anti-viral but it won’t eradicate it all…”

“That’s something, right?” 

Oh, Leon, so hopeful, so determined. It’s probably why Amara understands why she likes him so much. He’s unwavering in wanting to help, even if the odds of that happening are slim to none. 

Claire helps Annette a little more as she fights with everything to speak, “Only problem is…hasn’t been tested, it may not work now.”

“Then why–” Amara’s voice is cut off, not even realizing she’s halfway on the floor until Leon has her by the arms. 

“Shit, Amara,” Leon places the back of his hand against her forehead. She’s hot and cold at the same time, she already knows that’s what he’s feeling. “You don’t feel good. Why didn’t you say anything?” He asks her again, desperate to know. 

“I’d rat-rather save the trouble, especially when it feels like I’m dying.” No use hiding it. She was possibly going to die and there was nothing he, she, or anybody could do about it right now. Tragic.

Miscommunication is a uniquely human characteristic that would eventually drive us all to the brink of insanity but Amara didn’t want to give Leon false hope until she knew for certain there was something that could be done. If that anti-viral didn’t work, she’d at least be happy in the knowledge that Leon could be the one to get this info out if she couldn’t. 

Umbrella still deserved to be exposed, especially knowing what they had done to her. 

Her body finally starts to realize that sad fact, so she lies down on the cot. 

In another display of tenderness, Leon runs a hand over the top of her head. “I’ll get the anti-viral, you stay here and rest. We’ll make it through this, all of us.” 

A nasty feeling wrenched in Amara’s gut. Maybe some of them will. 

A burning, almost stinging sensation hits her eyelids and all the events come crashing hard on her body. Rest doesn’t come easy but it came anyway for Amara. 

Both Leon and Claire go in separate directions. They both had their priorities. 

Leon wanted to be angry. But, he just couldn’t. Seeing Amara’s face and the screen that revealed what he inevitably already knew worried him more than anything. 

In fact, he was more worried that Amara wouldn’t make it. A bullet wound is easy to recover from. A virus that turns someone into a zombie, or even worse what Annette’s husband had become? Not so much. 

If there’s one thing he can get right tonight, it’s helping her. Failure wasn’t an option. Not again. He’d already failed Marvin, failed the gun shop owner and his daughter, and now Amara? No, he co-wouldn’t let that happen. 

Time was running out and he needs to get that virus out of her, he needs to help her if not for his own sanity, his conscience. She kept pushing him off, telling him she was fine…like she wanted to waste away and save him the trouble of noticing. 

The thing was…is that he noticed her long before he got here. That brochure, the one she called stupid earlier in the evening, had given him pause on the second read-through. He barely skimmed it the first time but out of boredom, he looked again. 

He did envision a more cool, suave introduction for when he originally was meant to arrive, but that didn’t exactly pan out, did it? 

Leon wasn’t exactly ashamed…okay, maybe a little– to admit he looked over the team photo as he packed up everything to come here–she was just as pretty, just as sweet as he imagined–even now as everything went to hell in a hand basket, a smile ignited in him as he remembered the photo.

Right now, she didn’t look so good and it scared him. That same face, full of joy in the photo was a stark contrast to what she looked like now. 

He should’ve pushed harder, sooner; had he kept the pressure on her, she wouldn’t be in the position she is now. 

It was an easy choice to find the anti-viral. Way better than the alternative of having to choose to kill her or letting her suffer in silence till a painful end. Amara may have wanted him to be the one to pull the trigger but he refused, he couldn’t let anyone else die. Frankly, besides saving the city, he couldn't care less about anything else. 

He needed her to be okay. 

[future-boi]

So uh, I've been hearing a lot about that bttf fic your writing. I was wondering if you could share a bit of its plot? I just really wanna know what it's about :D

(And if you have shared its plot and my blind self missed it would you mind linking it?)

Oh 😳

Well it's still heavily under the works... I've only mentioned it here and there, but haven't taken the time to create it's own post for it...

But I guess I'll do that right now! The structure is still subject to change but here's what I have in mind so far:

It'll be split into 5ish parts. I haven't written them all, but I can say for a fact they will vary in length. Part 1 will follow the first movie EXCEPT for the ending where Doc shows up and says they need to go to the future. Part 2 will be exploring the Lone Pines timeline and Marty adjusting to his new family. Then, it will end with Doc going to Marty and taking him to the future to save his kids. Part 3 will be a side story or collection of stories of what happened since 1955 that led to the Hell Valley we see in the movie (should just be through George and Lorraine's POV) [It will be pretty short compared to Parts 1 and 2, I can already tell]. Part 4 will return to the main story with Marty accidentally creating Hell Valley and traveling there [meeting his alternate family and self] until he travels back to 1955 to fix it. Part 5 is him traveling back to 1955 to fix it lol.

As you can see theres so many details im leaving out but thats the general outline and you can follow it pretty easily with the knowledge of the movies. It's also subject to change. I might shorten it to 4 parts. It used to be 6 but I thought about it and decided to combine some things. Plot twist: we get 8 parts.

The gist is that its more focused on the McFly family so we're going to see more of Dave and Linda and how their lives changed throughout the 3 timelines, not just George and Lorraine. Marty also gets his own character arc too. From the beginning, not just from the second movie. So please bear with me as the characters might be a lil OOC... ima try to excuse it by saying its cuz I'm changing the rules of the franchise's universe a bit, but its up to your interpretation...

And I've never written anything before so a part of me is like bruh this is too ambitious what is goin on. But another part of me is like LESGOOOOO

Don't think I described the plot well AT ALL. Sorry. But... its basically just Back to the Future? Changes here and there. Some big, some smol. It really feels like fanfic in one of its most distilled states lmao. [A remake??? A re-imagining??? Zemeckis and Gale would hate me]

I just feel like itll take a while 😅 It's been about ~3 months since I've started working on it and I only have the first draft of part one and the rough draft of part two. But I'd say it's looking pretty good so far.

💝 Thank you for the ask! 💝 It gave me an opportunity to give a real update.

[hidingoutbackstage]

Hello! I’m back to talk about Resident Evil fandom misogyny! Are y’all sick of me yet? Too bad!

I know my source for this fucking sucks (it’s ao3) but since I’ve bitched about the horrible way RE fics on ao3 are somewhat reflective of the fandom before, and bc what I saw pissed me off, I’m gonna talk about it.

And unlike some people, if y’all don’t care about it, I’m gonna put it under a cut, and NOT post my annoying ramblings in the main tag as if they’re facts and not just my interpretations and criticism of fandom wide expression

So I was thinking about making a post saying “merry yaoimas (chreon) and a happy new yuri (femslash re ship)” with the latter parantheses actually holding an re ship. But that did make me pause and think, what was the most popular femslash re ship? I know I have my favorites (claida, chamberfield, and ashuela being most prominent), but I’m also aware that those are rarepairs and probably not indicative of the fandom as a whole.

The first thing I did was go to ao3, which, again, while not indicative of the fandom as a whole, is still large and worth looking at. These three under filters should’ve been my first clue that this was going to be abysmal

8.4k m/m fics. f/f isn’t even half of that. Now, when I saw this, I was disappointed but not surprised, and I stupidly saw the F/M being more popular and thinking “Oh right cuz Leon x female reader people are annoying” (keep this in mind for like two paragraphs later)

Anyway, I filtered it to only contain f/f pairings, so I could see which pairings were the most popular, and I genuinely had no idea. After all, most of the games in the series barely have women interact at all, so like, were people shipping Claire Redfield and Jill Valentine in 2000 because they were the only two female protagonists (who had also appeared in two games), even though they’d never interacted? Did the remakes and recent movies instill people with a love for Claire x Rebecca like I enjoyed? Or did we circle back to the late 90s due to the remakes of 2 and 3 where Claire and Jill were protagonists of big re games and thus people wanted to ship them?

In my foolish decision to think about, you know the main characters of the series that spawn multiple games and are iconic staples of the series’ existence as a whole, I forgot one thing: people on the internet are horny first, and human beings second

(gonna use that pic of my dog for image compression, even though this is under a read more)

Ngl, considering that I’d made multiple posts bitching about this very phenomenon, I was more than a little peeved, and also felt dumb for having forgotten about this. So first I decided to filter out the character tag “reader” and-

Um. I mean. What I meant to say, was that I then filtered out all of the relationships that just came from re8 “fans” being horny. Then I was left with this

So out of THAT list of ten ships, only six of them were actually f/f, the most popular having 120 fics and the least popular having 38. If you don’t feel like scrolling back up, there were 3913 fics in the re tag which were tagged with f/f

So I think, generally, that Claire/Jill is the most popular re f/f ship, at least in the ao3 community. Case closed, right?

Wrong. Now I had to see if that was actually true. Because if I know one thing about re writers, it’s that they include f/f as an afterthought or some background bs to a fic focused on a m/m ship

So I counted, and I did my best to split all fics where Claire/Jill were tagged into three types: background, focused, and given equal focus between them and one or more pairings. Some didn’t really fit, like fics that were just a collection of one shots (or more commonly, collection of short smuts) but those I also left out of the Claire/Jill focused count, because they weren’t focused on them. So after going through all 141 (yup that’s really all the Claire/Jill ships there are) fics, here’s the number I ended up with

82 fics where they were the focus ship

14 fics where they were given equal focus between one or more pairings

The rest (45) were neither

Not gonna lie, I was pretty relieved to see that fics where they were the focus was more than half of the total. And as I went further back, more fics focused on Claire/Jill as opposed to having them be a background ship. Also, for fun, I checked the ratings for Claire/Jill fics

And although I didn’t cross reference, I did generally notice a lot more of the fics focused on Claire/Jill were smut first, and fluff secondarily. Most of them too were also either one chapter (complete or incomplete) or generally just short. If a fic had many chapters/high word count, Claire/Jill almost always wasn’t the main ship, and sometimes shared the spotlight with another ship.

So is this reflective of the whole fandom? No, of course not. Is this indicative of a major problem with the fandom not caring about female characters? Yeah, literally all social media is indicative of it.

It’s not like the media itself is incredibly feminist, or full of meaningful character interactions between anyone, regardless of genders, it’s just not good at it and not really trying to be. But I will say that at large, the fandom does seem to prioritize m/m relationships, platonic or romantic, over female characters existences, their relationships to men, and fuck off if you think they care about relationships between women.

I do have a separate post coming about the lack of interactions between women in the media itself, but that’s for another day

[shark-myths]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you so much for the tag ((and drag)) @carbonbased000! this was very fun and thoughtful to do.

who is writing things right now? i never remember. i will tag a wide and perhaps not terribly relevant range of: @toorational @just-about-nothing @27-royal-teas @leyley09 @alienfuckeronmain @stereostatic @setting-in-a-honeymoon and anyone else so inclined!

++

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

65

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

968,103, but as i’ve said before, i have orphaned a lotta fic as well

3. What fandoms do you write for?

pretty much just Fall Out Boy, but i will occasionally dabble in something random! this includes tony stark femslash (not sorry, will not apologize), cobra kai, and anything about girls or characters who could compellingly be made into girls.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Difference Between Real Love and the Love on TV

Stranger Danger

Boys Next Door / Assholes

From Russia With Love (this is one of those random sidesteps, a MCU femslash epistolary)

Jet Black Crow

(As an aside, it is so wild to me that older fics have so many more kudos than newer ones—you can really tell that fob went 5 years between albums! imo this is NOT a list of my best fic.)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

for years, I responded to every single one! then at some point i fell behind because of my high standards for trying to put the same thought and effort into my responses as all you lovely people put into the comments, then i became overwhelmed, then i stopped. I AM SO SORRY IF I OWE YOU RETURN COMMENTS, i read them and i treasured them and you are a huge part of the reason i keep writing. love u all!!!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I only write happy endings, man! I stopped writing tragedies a long time ago. My angstiest fics are red and unafraid of living and In Every Universe. the end of Made One Way (Cobra Kai) is ambiguous and potentially brutal, depending on how you take it.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

um, every single other one! I’m a big fan of the gory fairy tale ending of The Boys Time Can’t Capture, and transmuting the hiatus into an act of mutual care and love in Sell Out Girl meant so much to me.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not since my first fandom and god, don’t

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

yes, a bit, could probably write a little less about feelings and a little more about feelings if u know what i mean. I’m super into sex as a person so i almost never write about intense romantic connections without bringing smut into it somehow; they feel really tightly linked for me, and i think i also crave media with HOT and INTIMATE connections between queer people. In terms of kind, i guess i’d have to say it’s largely rushed vanilla emotion-and-orgasm driven scenes. not a very flattering oeuvre i've created here.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

mash-ups are my favorite thing to do! I especially like ripping off movie and fairy tale plots and making them stranger, or else taking a really specific constrained timeline from someone’s life or a piece of media and transforming it somehow. best sandbox ever. my craziest one is probably the coyote ugly / beauty in the beast peterick fic, Wolves Dressed As Wolves. and i love this type of transformation in everything, whether it's the weirdo gender shit i just learned duchamp was doing or katherine addison's destructively beautiful 'sherlock holmes except there're ANGELS' novel or the buenos aires re-imagining version of vivaldi's four seasons by piazzolla, my life and taste keeps taking me into the various ways we fold and refract and remake the same experiences over and over again through different lenses or angles or selves. to quote some author whose identity i forgot years ago, though the quote remains: "there are no new stories." all art is iterative, and the most interesting thing we can do as creators is deviate in new, unexpected ways.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

yeah, a million years ago on deviantart

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes! I have had a few translations and a podfic. I love it when people want to interact with my stories in their own way, all interpretations are welcome.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

one day i hope to be domesticated enough that @carbonbased000 can write with me. I used to co-write by passing the laptop back and forth with my bestie in high school; we wrote self-insert x-men fanfiction based on the comic books in like 2004 and it was an absolute blast; but generally i am considered impossible to work with, by both myself and others.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

i feel completely unqualified to answer this question. i have been driven insane by any number of pairings in my life. when i was younger, i was more interested in internalized homophobia themes in ships, because that's where WE were culturally in the early 2000s and where i was in relationship to myself, and i think each change and growth and greater empowerment and self-possession in my own life is mirrored in what i am interested in. i feel the most drawn in by dynamics between people that are creative and give me a new way to access and explore interesting ideas and themes; i’m a real sucker for shared art products and touring bands as unique and agonizing ways to connect people. there are so many different ways to express that someone is your soulmate and you'll never convince me throwing away all trappings of a traditional life in order to rove the earth and make art with your friends isn't one of them.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

do you not just block out your WIPs from your mind so that you can live in moment-to-moment freedom?? I am a finisher in general, i have a few peterick drafts lurking around in my gdocs but if they remain untouched, it’s generally because there are only a couple thousand words to them and i’m not very excited about the possibilities of the fic. there is a sequel to a meticulously historically accurate pirate fic i wrote long ago called Providence, i got to about 30k and then lost all of my extremely painstaking notes and research in a software update. I’m still very interested in and excited by the idea, but i lost the notes and felt too traumatized to continue with the project genuinely a decade ago, so the idea that i will return and finish the fic seems fairly unlikely. Providence is one of my greatest pieces of writing ever, though, so hope springs eternal, i guess!

16. What are your writing strengths?

lyrical prose and conveying humor via unusual sentence construction. i was recently told i write arguments well and feel tough as a result, like, watch out! you don’t want to fight me!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

i am lazy and easily distractible, i don’t plot in advance, i barely edit because i get really rigid and have trouble seeing any other way to say something than how i’ve already said it, i have an unwillingness to delete and rewrite even when that’s the only way forward (see: my eternally 90% finished age swap peterick au), i use up all my emotional energy elsewhere and then neglect my craft for weeks at a time. 

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

sometimes i’ll use pet names in another language if it makes sense for the character, but i avoid this in general as i’m not fluent in anything other than english. I would, have, and do sound like a duolingo lesson.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

afi bandom, when we used to call it slash, when i thought i had invented it with my friend at summer camp, when i was 13 and sent her kidfic stories i wrote out by hand in pink envelopes.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

genuinely i almost always write things i personally want to read, so i love them all! except the fucking fixed stars of heaven, everyone knows that fic tortured me to within an inch of my sanity. My most personal and personally meaningful fic is Girl Out Boy. i have a tattoo of it on my arm.

[confessionsofasexydilf]

Writing Commissions Open!

Hey y’all! I’ve decided to open up writing commissions–I’ve been writing for a good while now (both for myself and others), but this is my first foray into doing comms!

Fandoms: Dead by Daylight, Apex Legends, IT (book and movies) Scream, Halloween, A Nightmare on Elm Street, Ghosts of War, The Evil Dead, The Cleansing Hour, Re-Animator, Daredevil (comics and show), Red Dead Redemption 2, Assassin’s Creed (3, Unity, Origins, Odyssey, Valhalla), and more! Just ask :)

What I’ll write: x Reader, OC, NSFW (if over 18), gore, ships

What I won't write: Non-con, minor/adult, NSFW of a minor

Prices: 

$20 for 2000 words

$5 for every subsequent 500 words 

Feel free to send in an ask, a DM, or an email to liesandrobots@gmail.com to get in contact about a comm! I’m super flexible about pricing, just lemme know and we can figure something out :) I’ll let you know about payment methods there as well!

Since I don’t often post my work, here’s a link to a Google Doc of some of my writing samples! It has some snippets of personal writing as well as links to some of my posted fics (which do cross accounts–I’m a bit of a serial remaker LOL).

[moondal514]

Yuletide 2023 Fic Rec List

*edit 01/01/2024*: added the writers now that reveals have happened

What it says on the tin. Below is a fic rec list of some fics from @yuletidetreasure’s 2023 collection that I’ve enjoyed, though first I must rec the 2 wonderful fics I’ve received as gifts:

Your Kindness Would Be My Release by Inhammer

Last night, or maybe tonight, Agamemnon tells me we should arrive in Argos the next day. His kingdom. The place of my final visions, where I finally meet her. Clytemnestra.

Wonderful Cassandra pov

Palímpsēstos by DachOsmin/ @dachosmin

I am standing on the walls. The wind blowing off the sea is salt-bitter in between my teeth, like the tears I will cry on the day that I meet you. There are ships in the harbor.

Beautifully written Cassandra-centric prose poem that I’m still picking up my jaw from the floor after reading

Fandom: The Oresteia

Turn Thy Wrath Aside by Moondal (yours truly)

Mortals wants mattered little in the face of the desires of the gods. How could a single woman wield such power?

-

Clytemnestra and Helen as mirrors.

Tragic character study of these 2 sisters

Fandom: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes

saint sebastian, filled with arrows by narqueen

Coriolanus stares at it. Then he stares at her. She can see his imprecision again, the flicker of something untrustworthy beneath all the gold hair and famous lineage. “What should I do with it?” he asks, pliant, one last bid for direction.

Lucy Gray kisses him again. “Come back to me,” she orders. “Do whatever you have to do to come back to me, Coriolanus Snow.”

-

(Coriolanus Snow wins the 10th annual Hunger Games with the help of his mentor, Lucy Gray Baird.)

Role-swap with wonderfully consistent characterization

The Preference for Survival by samalander/ @intosnarkness

It may have been a kindness, but it doesn't change the fact that Lysistrata was the only one of her classmates who had to draw blood.

Fantastic Lysistrata Vickers character study

Fandom: Goncharov

Guess Who's Coming to Naples by DreamerInSilico/ @dreamerinsilico

The Muppet family would like to have a word.

The Goncharov fandom would like to have several squees.

Some fandom Discord reactions to the announcement of the very real Muppet remake of the best movie of all time, Goncharov (1973)

Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Goncharov by berlincorpography/ @berlincorpography

i don’t know, writing a paper with her could be… fun?

i mean, what’s the worst that can happen?

* * *

From: leldiwany@uea.edu

To: mwright21@kcl.edu

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Fuck you

M–

If you think we’re citing fucking Samuel Kline[...]

[three paragraphs snipped – click to expand]

A hilarious tale of academic rivalry

Fandom: Tosca

recondita armonia by Ladybug_21

They should not be growing so close, Floria thinks. Famous though she has become, she and Mario are from different worlds and irreconcilable backgrounds. And yet somehow she feels they complement each other, balance each other out through some subtle harmony.

Floria and Mario, before.

Fantastic backstory for Tosca and Mario

Fandom: Babel

Homophony in Oriental Silver-Work and Applications for Non-Logographic Scripts: A Case Study in English, Using Kreyòl, French, Gaelige, and Scots Gaelic by mercuryandglass/ @mercuryandglass

Abstract:

Based on the techniques described by Dejima (1836, 1845, and 1848) regarding collaborative manifestation using homophonous links (homophony chains) occasionally seen in the Oriental tradition of silver-work, this paper describes the adaptation and combination of two existing match-pairs, one from Haitian Creole (Kreyòl) to English through French (Desgraves 1846), and one from Scottish Gaelic (Scots Gaelic) to Irish Gaelic (Gaeilge) (O’Nell 1839 and 1843), in order to demonstrate the efficacy of the Oriental technique for homophony chains when used with languages that do not make use of logographies, such as English.

Super cool in-universe academic paper

[rexila-rites]

Hello and welcome to my fic tumblr or whatever this is!

I currently have two major fics on the go:

Jailbreak

a fic based on the Clock 0ut series of animations and destined to go out of date as Sad works faster than me lol. Updates about once a month. IN PROGRESS again, no eta on chapters yet.

The unthinkable happened. Stanley was in the control room, the clock was in his hand and in a swift motion he brought it down-

And the Narrator woke up bound to a chair in a strange, glitching room. He was (for want of a better phrase) missing time, and the only way to get it back was to trust his former project with his mind.

Why the hell would he do that?

This Belongs In A Museum! (Main Series)

Aka Superthieves AU, Stanley and Narrator are more based on their Clock 0ut incarnations than TSP, however I ended up including a lot of TSP elements anyway like Curator my beloved. Updates whenever I have chapters for it, minimum once a month but often more. Heed the tags and author notes! VOLUME ONE COMPLETE! VOLUME 2 OUT NOW!

If you have super powers, why not don a mask and cause some trouble? Unfortunately, Stanley robbed the wrong museum, and now he's being put to work in the 'Special Acquisitions' department, stealing objects of great importance or power from private collectors and bringing them back to the safety and security of his new employer's museum. Narrator has been trying to quit this type of work for years now, and yet, here he is. He's here to support and train the reckless new agent, and good god he already needs a raise.

Also be sure to check out the unabridged Superthieves Series for side stories and missing scenes:

old ghosts - by caret

A missing scene that takes place after Chapter 8 (Kick the Bucket Part 3), some aftermath of Stanley's encounter with the bucket demon.

23 Times Stanley Was Stabbed (And One Time He Wasn't) - by me

meet me in our garden - by caret

takes place after Chapter 17 (And They Were Roommates), straight up pre-slash fluff of Narrator and Stanley getting the hang of sharing a living space. Includes art by calwasfound!

Liner Notes For The Same Old Songs - by me

Sometimes a song really speaks to you. Sometimes, they’re totally unrelated but are just fun and cathartic to sing. Sometimes, they’re vessels for painful memories. But just because a memory is painful, doesn’t mean you want to let it slide. Today's a very important day.

Or: Narrator dissociates in a Karaoke booth for 2 hours.

Related fics/crossovers/etc:

This Belongs In A Soulmate AU! - crossover fic by Gem_Alawas showing the Superthieves boys in the world of An Awful Game of Cat and Mouse!

Unofficial Superthieves Fanfiction

Fanfiction for an AU fanfiction based on an AU animation inspired by a re-release of a video game remake of a mod for Half-Life 2-

Yep!! Some of my cool talented friends wrote Superthieves fanfiction?? And i thought a collection might be easier for that!