#Umbrella Corporation (Mentioned only)

[0kayblue]

Need You

Need You 

You and Leon have been a little more than friends with benefits for awhile and he struggles with what he wants it to be. 

Word count: 3k (almost 4) 

Mentions of alcohol, slightly possessive Leon, over protective Leon, angst, fluff (??kinda??), happy ending, not proofread very well if it all.

A/N: HELLO!! How are you all doing? Good I hope. I’ve been gone for more than a hot minute. It took me a lot longer than what I thought it would to get back into the groove of things. With that being said, this is not that great. Kinda boring, but hey, sometimes things are boring. This is just kind of to get me in the groove of uploading and writing again. 

Part three and request are in the works. They are coming!! I just need a little practice before I start actually going at it again. 

With all my heart, I hope you are having a fantastic day!! Enjoy!! 

Time had never moved so slow as Leon anxiously bounced his leg underneath the cheap break room table. His tired eyes glanced to the clock and then back down to the untouched styrofoam cup of coffee. 

Leon hated a lot of things about his job, but at this moment debriefing was his least favorite. He detested having to explain everything that happened on missions before he officially had time to process how they happened to him. Not that he ever truly enjoyed thinking about the things he had to do in order to survive, but he liked to have an understanding on why he did this or that. Why he chose to go left instead of right. 

He had just spent nearly three days fighting his way through the deep Rocky Mountains; B.O.W’s at every turn, and he didn’t even get the information he was expected to return with. The whole thing was a waste of his damn time. He was sent to follow a lead that only set the operation two steps back and whatever up and coming supervillain, or want to be Umbrella Corporation, or extremist cult one leap forward. All while defense was wounded and information scrounged for a thread to pull to loosen the seam on the shit show they were currently trying to clean up. 

He was annoyed and beyond frustrated with everything. On top of the emotional stress he also was not in the best shape physically- it wasn’t anything major all things considered- but, broken ribs, internal bruising and external bruising causing almost his whole torso to be a  deep purple almost gray hue, and the bandaged up gashes on his limbs and slight cuts on his face only kept adding straws to the camel's back. He felt like it was only a matter of time before he snapped, he felt like he could only sit here for a few seconds more before he stormed out the door and out of this damn stale sterile building that was too clean. 

He took a deep breath before adjusting himself to sit up straight in the deep blue plastic chair. As he exhaled he closed his eyes and saw the face he’s seen behind his eyelids since he landed, desperate to see it in person. To touch the soft warm flesh of someone he could never get enough of, regardless of the fact that he tried so hard not to get addicted to. Each hit of you more potent than the last, each high allowing him to forget for a little longer, each graze of his skin against yours permitting him to daydream of a life he has always ached for. Even if you didn’t long for the same things he did, he saw you with everything he had ever wanted. It was cruel and yet he continued to do it to himself. 

He had bought you a burner phone with his number and his alone. You were not to use the phone for anything other than to communicate with him. He had asked you to carry it with you at all times, lying and saying he didn’t bug it. He told you that with his line of work that it would make your meetings more secure, that it would keep you off the radar. In a lapse of poor judgment you took the phone and him up on his proposal to make him an official fuck buddy. Who could blame you? It was a scene  straight out of a movie and boosted your ego. It made you feel special that someone so important took such an interest in someone like you. Someone who lived such an exhaustingly normal life. It kept you on cloud nine for at least a week and a half after receiving it. 

It was a purely physical relationship that didn’t require any emotional attachment regardless of the deep emotions that sunk into the both of you too quickly for comfort. Each rendezvous lasted longer than the previous one. Him staying at your place for days, while you both interacted like domesticated adults. Not quite like a married couple, not as casual as friends, and nowhere near as uptight as roommates; it was such an odd relationship, but it wasn’t  uncomfortable. Oftentimes by the end of his stay he left you with more questions than answers. Your knowledge of his life was barley skin deep and you were left to piece it together from fragments he dropped you. 

He on the other hand knew everything about you. He couldn’t help himself. All your information was at his fingertips; your past, your present, and a vague idea of your future. In hindsight he should have left it alone and maybe if he did he wouldn’t be stuck in this current predicament. Maybe wouldn’t be digging in his pocket for the phone that held only one contact number, a phone number that he had memorized even though he shouldn’t have. He leaned forward in the chair as he typed only two words. 

‘Need you.’

He didn’t think about the impact they could have, he didn’t think of the weight they carried, he just sent the message. Not a part of him even considering the fact that you would think it was the truth. He needed you. Rather you are below him or watching some low brow television show that networks pumped out to dumb down the population. He just needed you within reach, he needed the comfort of your presence to ease the buzzing of the world he lived in. 

He sat the phone on the table as he crossed his arms and sat back, anxiously awaiting a reply. He didn’t get a chance to glance at the clock before the phone buzzed against the table. 

‘Busy.’ 

The message read and he couldn’t help but to scoff as his hand ran through freshly washed damp hair. 

‘With what?’ 

He asked in his reply as he sent it. His jaw tightening in annoyed agitation. What part of need did you not understand? He took a deep breath and reminded himself of the nature of the relationship. As he went to follow up his demanding question with a meeting time and place the break room door opened and he shoved the phone back into his pocket. 

“Mr.Kennedy,” A rather thin man with tired eyes and a disheveled navy blue suit sighed out, “I’m sorry, we know you are exhausted, we just have a few more questions. Can you stay for another thirty minutes? No more, no less.”  

Leon forced a polite smile as he stood, “Lead the way.” 

“Thank you so much, Mr. Kennedy.” 

“Please, call me Leon.” Leon insisted as he took the door from the man and just like that he followed the man down the hall and into an elevator; leaving behind a hot cup of coffee to grow cold on a cheap linoleum covered piece of wood where it would eventually be washed down the drain by night janitorial staff. 

It had been an hour since Leon set foot in that room and not much of anything had come out of his answers. He was out of the building now and almost free as his hand found the handle of his car door, but a buzz in his pants pocket caused him to let go of it immediately. As he unlocked the phone he noticed he was left with a voice memo and not a message, which he found odd but not alarming. He couldn’t help but to smile, ready to hear your voice. He pressed play and heard the hustling of feet and an unrecognizable song in the background. 

“She said she was busy, Le-on. Take a hint.” 

A low masculine voice came out of the speaker as he gripped the phone. He pulled it away from his ear with a snarl as he looked at the phone screen. It took every fiber of his being to not shatter the phone right there; it took every remaining ounce of sanity that he had to not let this red hot anger consume him. This little voice in his head pleaded for him to think rationally. 

He opened the car door and slammed it shut behind him as he got in, it was a miracle the car door window didn’t break from the force. He was quick to pull up your location and an airy laugh left him as he knew the location too well. A dive bar on the outskirts of the city, the same exact bar he had found you in. It was tragically comical. 

He didn’t bother with a seat belt as he backed out of his parking spot and hit the gas and drove off after you. The speed limit was a mere suggestion as city lights passed him just as quickly as they appeared. He was livid as his knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. He was angry. He was angry that you had the audacity to be out with someone at the bar that he met you at. He was furious that you were busy with some asshole who had the nerve to address him by his first name. He was livid that he didn’t just leave work and go to you as soon as he landed. He was heartbroken because even though he was lost in this haze of consuming rage he had no right to feel this way. You weren’t his, but he was yours. 

As Leon quickly pulled into the parking lot he parked his car with no regard to the faded white lines that were supposed to indicate parking spots. He left the car running as he slammed the car door shut, making a bigger scene than the screeching sound his tires made against the asphalt when he parked. He could feel the eyes of smokers burning a hole in his frame as he took quick strides to the front doors of the bar. 

“Nice ride-.” A voice started but was cut off by the beep of Leon locking the car. Normally Leon would nod politely, but he didn’t bother to spare a glance to whoever made the comment. His brows furrowed and a glare that could kill adorning his face as he stepped into the warm bar. 

“Hey!” Zack yelled, the bartender was shouting as Leon watched him scurry from behind the bar and over to a crowded table. Men and some women of varying ages were crowded around the table cheering. “Give that back! How did you even-?” Zack tried to reason as some guy held him back from the table. Leon proceeded with some caution as he approached Zack. 

“Let it go, buddy. He’ll give it right back and pay for the shots as soon as he’s done.” A stranger said as he tried to keep Zack back. “He’ll even pay extra if this chick handles her liquor the way she says she can.”

That got Leon’s attention faster as he pushed his way closer to the front of the table. His eyes locked on your frame laying on the tabletop with your head leaning off the end as another guy poured vodka down your throat. 

“Yeah! That’s what I’m talking about!” The man screamed before putting the bottle to his mouth and taking a shot straight from the bottle.

Your laugh rang through the bar as you began to try and sit up, but the man was quicker than you were as he bent down to meet you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders to keep you in place. His lips graze yours as he spit his shot into your mouth. Your throat burning as you tried to push him off of you. For a second you thought your weak  effort was successful as his lips left yours, but when you gained some composure you heard the shattering of glass and saw people back away quickly from the table. 

“Get the fuck off of her!” A voice yelled, that voice, you knew that voice all too well. You sat up as your eyes found Leon’s frame. His shoulders tense as they fell up and down with his labored breathing. His fist clenched and jaw tightened as he threatened in a deep low growl, “Touch her again and I’ll break your fucking spine.” He was in no condition to fight, he was barely standing. He was utterly exhausted and his limbs ached, but the angry adrenaline that coursed through his veins kept him upright.

“Leon.” You dryly got out as you sat up on the table. You repeated his name but he didn’t even glance in your direction. 

“Leon? Jesus Christ. Look, she already-.” The man spoke and Leon recognized the voice immediately from the voice message. Leon’s eyes darkened with rage as he looked at this pathetic excuse of a man. 

Busy. 

“Where is her phone?” Leon asked as he roughly grabbed the man by his shirt collar, “Where is her damn phone?” 

“Here, here! Take it!” The man shook as he pulled the phone out of his pocket and handed it to Leon. Leon snatched it from his hand before pushing the man roughly to the ground. Leon towered over him as the man shook, Leon’s unbridled rage causing the bar to grow freezing cold. 

“Stay away from her.” Leon turned from the man and his gaze softened only slightly as it landed on you. Your eyes locked with his for only a moment before he avoided your gaze and approached you. His hand found your arm as he helped you off of the table. He wrapped an arm around your waist as the crowd parted like the Red Sea. All eyes were on the both of you as you walked out of the bar. 

“I can take it from here.” You said agitated as you tried to push yourself away from Leon. 

“I don’t care. I’m taking you home.” Leon said as he unlocked his car. That aggression he felt still resting on the tip of his tongue. He opens the passenger door and with a deep sigh you get in his car. After he just opened the door you took a deep breath before running your hand through your hair. A bottomless pit settled in your stomach before you sat back against the seat. 

“Seatbelt.” You heard him say as he got in the car, pulling you out of your thoughts. You compiled as he started to drive out of the parking lot and turned right out of the parking lot. 

You raise an eyebrow before looking at him and confusingly confront him, “You were supposed to turn left.” 

“I said I’m taking you home. I know where I’m going.” Leon glared ahead and for once wished you wouldn’t say a damn word. He was heated. 

“How did you know where I was?” 

“Can you not ask questions right now?” 

“No, because you’re freaking me out. First, you know where to find me and second, you hook a right when you know my place is left. Where are we going?” You stated in a matter of fact tone as you crossed your arms. You could tell he was angry, but you didn’t care because you were angry too. You never disclosed your location to him, he nearly started a fight, and he continued to treat you like you were something more to him regardless of the fact that he made it clear that you would never be anything more. 

“My place. It’s closer and I’m too tired to drive further than what I have too.” He admitted as he sent you a quick glance. 

“Your place?” You rolled your eyes, “You’re telling me that your place is closer and we’ve spent all this time at mine?” 

“Yeah.” Leon sighed with irritation. 

“How is that fair? How is it fair that you know all this shit about me, but I know nothing about you?” You asked flat out and annoyed. Normally after going an extended time without seeing Leon you didn’t ask any questions, you just tended to him until he was ready to talk. He loved that about you, you never pushed him. Leon grunted knowing that it was the alcohol and a mix of unconfronted emotions made you bold. 

“We talked about this-.”

“Yeah, we did, but you tracking my location wasn’t in that conversation.” Leon took his eyes off the road as the car came to a stop at a stoplight and he looked at you. He opened his mouth to speak, to defend himself, but you cut him off. “Cut the shit, I know it’s a bugged phone. I had it looked at and your sudden appearance tonight only proved it.” 

“It’s only bugged for your protection.” Leon got out through gritted teeth. 

“My protection? What the fuck are you even talking about? If anything it’s so you can keep your whores straight and away from your wife.” You spit at him with venom. You knew Leon wasn’t the type of guy to run around town like that, he was a one woman type of guy. You were just angry and confused at why you would be enough to protect but not enough to be his. 

Leon’s face turned up in pained disgust and he went to say something, but the blaring of a car horn called his attention back to the road and a green light. You huffed as you turned away from him and he continued to drive onward to his place. 

The rest of the car ride was silent, giving you time to feel bad about what you said and how you said it. Your face falling and your anger simmering out as your eyes felt heavy with the weight of fresh tears threatening to spill. You refused to cry though as you sniffed and he pulled into his driveway.

A two story house that was too big for just him, but old enough for you to believe that it was a house that was left to him in some family members' will. Or he could’ve bought it himself easily with the way you’ve seen him treat money; like it was something that grew on trees. He was a complete and utter mystery to you and it drove you insane that you could still fall for someone who you knew so little about. At this point you were more mad at yourself than you were at him. You knew of his interests and hobbies, his likes and dislikes, you saw his heart; but you didn’t have a clue about his day to day life. It was like he existed only to you and no one else. No criminal record, no traceable family; he seemed to have nothing. All you had were snippets of an article about Raccoon City that left you with more questions than answers. 

“Don’t worry, the wife’s not home.” Leon muttered through gritted teeth and you winced as he got out of the car. You went and got out of the car alongside him as you followed closely behind him. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.” He opened the front door and you followed him in, shutting and locking it behind you. Your body now shaking as his focus remained straight ahead. He was so cold and you knew you deserved it. “I know that’s not you. I just…” you hesitated as you could feel your throat beginning to clog, knowing that your voice was going to waver and your next words were going to come out broken if you didn’t get a grip. 

“I’ve got a guest room, but I haven’t found time to clean it out so there is a bunch of junk and shit in there. You can take my bed and I’ll take the guest room.” Your heart broke, thinking he didn’t even want to be near you and you couldn’t blame him.

“I think we should call this off.” Your voice still broke as you said it and Leon quickly turned to you. His gaze softened immediately as soon as he saw your big glassy doe eyes. He stood frozen as his heart shattered. He was losing you and it wasn’t to some unforeseen force, he did this. His refusal to let you in completely had pushed you away. 

Leon was a fighter, it was his job. He stood up for what was right, he fought for people who couldn’t fight for themselves, he fought so people who weren’t fighters never had too. But did he ever fight for his own selfish desires? At the end of the day was he willing to fight for the first good thing he’s had in his life for a while? At the bar he was ready. He was ready to push his exhaustion aside and fight the object that stood between him and you; but now? Fighting you, the person he desired the most. 

“Look, it’s not anything personal…I just…this isn’t working for me.” You nervously blabbered out, the silence killing you. You took a deep breath as your hands found your hips, “I mean the Pretty Women aspect of it was fun, I had fun. I don’t know, I guess, I mean…” you stumbled over your own words. 

“Alright.” He said and you looked away from him as your arms wrapped around yourself trying to comfort yourself. The floodgates of your tears threatening to spill as your eyes darted around the room. 

“Okay. Good. I’ll sleep on the couch and grab a cab and be gone before the sun comes up.” You voice low as you head to the couch but Leon catches you by your elbow. The sudden connection of your bare skin against the palm of his hand sends a chill up his spine.

“I want to start again. I want to make it right.” He said as he slowly looked at you, his own eyes glassy. You study his face now and how exhausted he looked. “I’ll tell you everything. Let me start over. Let me make it right.” Your brows knitted together as you relaxed slightly and your other hand cupped his cheek. Tears fell from your eyes as you stifled a pained groan. “Please.” He begged and how could you say no?

Your lips found him in a hesitant kiss that he returned with desperation. The moment your lips sparked against his he was ready to fight again. His hand trailed down your arm and before it found your waist. He pulled you close to him as your arms wrapped around his neck. Sweet desperate kisses turned into feverishly hungry ones.

“Need you.” He admitted softly against your lips; hoping that you understood. Hoping that the feeling was returned. Hoping that right now that he said enough, that those two words meant enough. As you melted against him he knew that you understood. 

For the first time in a long time Leon was ready to give his all to something besides work. 

#resident evil leon #hayley writes a bit #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy resident evil #resident evil fanfic #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil #leon kennedy x you #leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #writing romance #writing angst #writing #romance #fluff?? #i don’t even know #he’s just my baby

[lu-is-not-ok]

While we're psychoanalyzing the EGOs, what are your opinions on Dimensional Shredder? Deffo something on freedom there, but I'm having trouble putting it to words myself.

Alright, another shared E.G.O. Cracks knuckles.

You know the drill, under cut we go.

So let's talk about Wayward Passenger as an abnormality first. It's a representation of the horrible things W Corp puts people through on their WARP trains given form. In a way, that makes it similar to abnormalities like Mountain of Smiling Bodies or CENSORED (if you subscribe to the smoke war monster theory).

The dungeon event in which we meet Wayward Passenger is especially telling in what themes it wants to carry. The narration mentions that the corporation responsible for disappearance will simply pretend that this person never existed. The reveal that the Passenger was actually a W Corp employee further adds to this.

(Also, random tangent, but am I the only one that got reminded of Bongcheon-Dong Ghost by this abno's event? Something about having to point a terrifying monster in a direction away from you and hope it doesn't come back just brought back memories. At least the Passenger has enough manners to not jumpscare you.)

When it comes to the abnormality itself, Wayward Passenger carries themes of corporate exploitation and negligence, specifically in the way W Corp might find its employees expendable and doesn't care about inflicting suffering upon its clients as long as they profit from it.

There are also some themes of abandonment and being lost, but also tenacity in spite of it. Despite not being able to escape, Wayward Passanger still searches for a way out and never stops moving forward.

So. With all that being said. How does it all tie back to Hong Lu and Yi Sang, as they are the ones with Dimension Shredder?

Thanks to Canto IV we now know that Yi Sang absolutely fits under the exploited by corporate greed umbrella. It's a major theme of his whole chapter in fact! The themes of being lost are also reflected in Yi Sang's aimlessness after the League collapsed. He was completely lost and effectively abandoned by everyone except Gubo, only to be further exploited by even more corporate greed.

Hell, you could even say his character arc in his Canto represents that tenacity in spite of being lost I mentioned. Though his goal might not be all that clear, he still wants to keep going and keep moving forward, no matter what.

When it comes to Hong Lu, we don't have nearly as much information... But we can speculate! I think in this case the "corporate exploitation" is less literally corporate, but still applicable. I'm talking about Hong Lu's family, of course. Though we don't know much, we do get quite a few hints about his family exploiting him for their own gain, especially now that we're getting a Hong Lu ID that is quite literally based on the idea of paralleling that part of him with Actual Corporate Exploitation!

With how cagey Hong Lu is about the deeper parts of his past, and how hard it is to tell when he's being genuine, it's honestly hard to pinpoint any of the other themes onto him.

However, we could work a little bit backwards here and see how Wayward Passenger might apply to Hong Lu's recurring themes of freedom.

In that way, we could be onto something here. Wayward Passenger is no longer under W Corp's protection, if it ever was. It's lost and abandoned by the thing that was supposed to be protecting it... But on the other hand, it is free now. W Corp can't reach it anymore. It can go wherever it wants and nothing will stop it.

If you want to translate that to how that might apply to Hong Lu, then you could interpret that as a sign that Hong Lu can only attain "true" freedom by severing ties with the thing exploiting him, aka his family... At the cost of losing the comfort and protection they offered him, as little as it may have been.

You could say that idea is reflected in Tingtang Hong Lu. Yes, he is probably the most free when it comes to authority bearing down on him compared to all his other IDs. ...But he's also a gambler living in the Backstreets leading a gang so incompetent he has to threaten them with death to keep them in line. He may be free, but his life is far from comfortable.

...I think it's funny that I already wrote that much and I haven't even touched the actual E.G.Os themselves, whoops! Let's go do that.

First thing to note about Dimension Shredder is that its damage type is Pride, especially since Yi Sang's version doesn't even *require* Pride resources. In fact, Dimension Shredder is the only non-base E.G.O that deals Pride damage.

To go a little bit deeper into that, all of the base E.G.O that deal Pride damage seem to imply taking an action while ignoring the consequences that might follow them. Rodion's What Is Cast is the most obvious example here, representing her murder of the pawnbroker without considering how the Middle would react to one of their family being killed. Likewise, Outis, Meursault, and Faust seem to carry similar ideas. Outis reminding herself of the Odyssey's purpose, as if trying to cope with the unforseen consequences of her actions. Meursault acting out despite noting how doing so only tightens the chains of those judging him. Faust opening herself to knowledge and possibilities regardless of what it may do.

In a way, that is what Pride is at its core. Performing actions purely because of what benefit they bring to oneself, without considering the drawbacks and consequences.

There's a couple of ways we could interpret that with Dimension Shredder.

For one, we could zoom back out to what Wayward Passenger represents. Dimension Shredder being a Pride E.G.O could be signifying the Pride inherent in corporate exploitation. By its very nature, it's an action done purely for the corporation's benefit, without considering the consequences on other people.

The other is a bit more directly applicable to Yi Sang and Hong Lu themselves. It could represent how they, and the abnormality included, continue moving forward regardless of what may stand in their way. Regardless what the consequences may be for doing so.

During the attack animations for both Dimension Shredder Awakenings, we see Yi Sang and Hong Lu enter a dimensional rift they make, with both of them notably hesitating before doing so. Judging by Hong Lu's expression when he exits the rift, it's not exactly a pleasant experience. And yet, they both do it anyway. The benefit of continuing to move outweighs the damage it may inflict on them, so they ignore the consequences. I think it kinda points to my second interpretation above.

When it comes to Sin Resources, both Yi Sang and Hong Lu require Gluttony, but while Hong Lu requires Pride, Yi Sang requires Sloth. Let's dissect it one at a time.

Gluttony in Limbus Company has two meanings, in my opinion. On one hand, there's the Greed-adjacent aspect, where it represents the want for more and more. This neverending need for growth, for consumption, for progress. On the other hand, when it's seen in a more sympathetic light, it can represent the actions one commits for the sake of one's own Survival.

When it comes to Dimension Shredder, I think it's a little bit of both for both Hong Lu and Yi Sang. They both need Gluttony to survive in an environment where they're actively being exploited, but at the same time they need Gluttony to keep moving further and further forward, to keep making progress endlessly.

For the other Resources that each of them uses, I think it specifically represents what part of them is what allows them to be easily exploited by those above them.

Sloth for Yi Sang represents his apathy and passiveness. He gets exploited because he doesn't care enough about himself to fight back against it. Why bother? It doesn't matter, everything and everyone else was exploited, so why stand up to being exploited yourself? While this is something that Yi Sang starts to come out of by the end of Canto IV, I doubt it's a habit that will be easy for him to break just like that.

The fact that Pride is a resource here for Hong Lu paints his passiveness when being exploited under a different light. He doesn't buckle because he's apathetic like Yi Sang, it's because he believes that the benefits of letting himself be exploited outweigh the drawbacks enough to ignore them. If we apply this to his family exploiting him, it paints a pretty vivid picture. Sure, he is being used and hurt by his family, but just accepting that it happens means he still gets to enjoy the comfort and "love" they give him. Because what happens if he stands up to them? He likely gets punished. He loses that comfort he relies on. So he'd rather just bear the pain and pretend everything is okay, because the alternative is far worse.

Now, let's examine the dialogue lines, because I think they are very interesting with all of that analysis behind us.

For starters, I think for both Dimension Shredder users, their Awakening lines are a reflection of their coping mechanism in the face of being exploited being pushed to its absolute limits.

Yi Sang's Awakening line is a reflection of how he tries to throw himself into research and scholarly pursuits as a form of escapism from his reality. Whether it's his activities with the League, or his dependency on the Mirror, we see in Canto IV that he turns to acting the part of a researcher when faced with corporate exploitation.

Likewise, while using Dimension Shredder he makes notes of his surroundings like a researcher traversing the space. Noting the enchanting colors and how he can't memorize the path he's on. However, his tone of voice is a lot more... manic? It's emotional, seemingly entranced by what he's seeing. I think it signifies how, when pushed to his limits, Yi Sang would completely throw himself into his research, to a perhaps almost obsessive degree.

Hong Lu's Awakening line on the other hand reflects how he tries to keep a happy tone regardless of the circumstances. His defense mechanism is hiding what he's truly feeling behind a mask of smiles and jokes.

Tingtang and Kurokumo Hong Lu are probably the best examples of this. While having a constant jovial tone, Tingtang Hong Lu is an utter piece of shit only using kindness as a thin veil to hide his actual intentions. Kurokumo Hong Lu on the other hand uses a somewhat polite tone despite the fact he clearly does not respect anyone. It's even more obvious with the latter when you examine his post-uptie illustration more closely. While he wears a smile on his face, the veins shown on the hand clutching his sword say that he's not as calm as he seems.

While using Dimension Shredder, Hong Lu tries to keep up his smiling facade... Except this time, he fails. At his very limit, he's too worn down and tired of the abuse to pretend he's fine. The words do come out, but he can't make them sound the way he wants to anymore. The mask finally cracks under the pressure.

Matching with how the Awakening lines share a specific theme, the Corrosion lines do as well. Dimension Shredder Corroded dialogue lines all seem to express some form of realization that they are finally free.

Yi Sang's Corrosion line describes how the alley he's going down does in fact have an exit. It's an open one. Not only is it a reference to Poem No. 1 from Crow's Eye View, but the way Yi Sang speaks it is very interesting here. His tone is fully confident, and even seems to lack the usual tired breathiness that Yi Sang usually has.

Good thing I'm writing this after Canto IV has come out, because... All of that is reflected in Yi Sang's character arc. He does realize that the alley is open. He does realize he can keep moving forward. And, most importantly, he does gain the confidence to not let himself be stopped.

With all of that context, let's look at Hong Lu's Corrosion line. His dialogue line expresses how nobody (or nothing) is forcing him to "be located there", causing him to fall into a fit of gasping laughter. There is something. Incredibly disturbing about this line to me. It's this dichotomy between Hong Lu hesitantly realizing that he's no longer stuck, that nobody is ordering him around anymore, and his downright histerical sounding delivery.

Since we don't have Hong Lu's Canto just yet, I can't do the same comparison as I did with Yi Sang... But I could try to predict what Hong Lu's Canto could end on if we assume this line is foreshadowing it the same way Yi Sang's was.

I think Canto 8 will show us Hong Lu finally break. There will be no more mask to hide behind, just a flood of emotions that had been held back for all of his life. Most importantly though, it won't be pretty. If there's any Sinner who will be in need of emotional catharsis through a mental breakdown boss battle, Hong Lu seems like the perfect candidate for that. Either that or Hong Lu just straight up fucking murders someone on screen. Ideally both.

There's probably more I can analyze based on the visual designs of the E.G.O... But honestly this already got way fucking longer than the Roseate Desire analysis so I'll just leave you with the mental image of me chanting Hong Lu Commit Fratricide.

#limbus company #limbus company project moon #hong lu #hong lu lcb #yi sang #yi sang lcb #dimension shredder ego #lcb analysis #lcb canto iv #lcb spoilers #ask #trianglestrategist #lu speaketh #enjoy this one got even fucking longer

[snailvee]

Leon tells Chris about what happened during his time in Spain.

The moment Rebecca got up and left for the bathroom the air got thicker. Chris studied Leon’s face as his eyes flicked from the bottle on the table to the window, then back to the bottle again. Chris knew if he didn’t say anything nothing would change until Rebecca got back and he had a feeling that’s how Leon hoped things would go. But Chris had too many questions, couldn’t stand to see the painful apathy in Leon’s eyes without at least trying to figure out what was going on.

“Leon.”

Leon’s head whipped around at the sound of his name and he looked like he was about to snarl at Chris to get him to stop talking, but Chris expected this reaction and pressed on without pause.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I need to know what happened in Spain. Not about your mission, I was briefed on that – what really happened. What happened to you.”

“It’s–” Leon tried to interrupt, but shut his mouth when he saw the raw emotion in Chris’s eyes. Leon knew how much they’d both been through and how important this must be to Chris to make his emotions so unguarded. So he pursed his lips and sat back.

“I know the mission itself was trying but it’s not like you haven’t seen anything like it before. Something else happened. Tell me what happened.”

There was a beat of silence, Chris’s brows furrowed and mouth still slightly open.

“Please.”

Leon held Chris’s gaze for less than a second before his eyes flicked down to the table again. He let out a breath and his body slumped forward.

“Fine. But you have to let me get another drink.”

Chris rolled his eyes and a wry smile made its way onto his face. He said nothing, just scoffed and waved over the waiter who had been standing awkwardly by the counter.

Once Leon had his drink in hand, Chris turned toward him expectantly. Leon looked over at him and rolled his eyes like he was about to go back on his promise, but he started talking before Chris could start questioning him again.

“There was… an ally we found along the way. He was tied up in the basement of one of the houses and he was the only other person I’d seen besides Ashley and I who wasn’t infected. He was a bastard at first, left me chained up after he’d escaped when we both got kidnapped. But he ended up saving my life. Our lives.”

There was a look in Leon’s eye Chris had trouble placing. It was pain and guilt but with a hint of… care? Fondness? He had to stop himself from leaning toward Leon as he started to speak again.

“Ashley and I did end up getting infected. We fought it off for as long as we could but we wouldn’t have had a chance without Lu– him. He was a scientist and had a lab nearby with the equipment needed to get rid of the parasite. It’s the only reason we survived.”

Chris tilted his head at Leon’s almost slip of a name, but didn’t press about it for fear of Leon closing off completely. He just focused on keeping his breath steady and looking at Leon.

“He was a scientist for Umbrella actually, if you can believe that. Helped make Nemesis and everything. But the second he found out that’s what his work was being used for he left. I asked why he was helping us once, and all he said was that it made him feel better. It confused me then but after I found out about his connections with Umbrella, well…”

Chris had tensed at the mention of the corporation but kept silent, questions on the tip of his tongue but not confident enough to ask them yet.

Leon turned to him and narrowed his eyes.

“I can hear you thinking. Just say it.” he all but spit out.

“Did he… Well, what’s his name, first?”

Leon’s mouth formed into another pained smile.

“Luis. His name was Luis. He didn’t make it. Krauser, he came out of nowhere and–”

Leon stopped short, turning away and taking another swig of his drink. Chris lowered his gaze, putting the pieces together fairly easily. He knew this wasn’t the first time Leon had lost someone he cared about, nor would it be the last, but this time something was different. There had been something so important about this man Luis that caused his absence to have this effect on Leon.

“He deserved to make it out. To try again. I… I wanted him to be able to make a new life.”

Chris was hit with a wave of understanding. Leon loved this man. Regardless of how long they’d known each other, regardless of what he’d done in his past, Leon loved him. 

Christ quickly stamped down the pang of jealousy that bubbled up – it wasn’t the time for that. He could deal with his own emotions later, he’d been keeping them tucked away so long that a little longer wouldn’t make a difference.

“Leon, I’m sorry. But I understand now, and that’s all I wanted. I don’t know if there’s anything I can do to help, but I sure as hell couldn’t sit here and watch you hurt without knowing the reason. So thank you.”

Leon finally looked at him again, face pulled taut but a silent thank you in his eyes. He opened his mouth as if to say something more, but he didn’t get the chance as a man stormed in, cutting their conversation short.

#AGAIN. IM NOT A WRITER #PLS BE NICE #i just saw this scene so vividly and comic form just would not work for it #so here #leon kennedy #chris redfield #luis serra #i feel like hes mentioned enough to tag #rebecca chambers #serennedy #serrenedy #implied but like. yeah #chreon #also implied but yeah #resident evil vendetta #resident evil: vendetta #writevee

[mayashesfly]

Do you ever think about how Makoto still retains all of his memories clearly while Yuma has lost his memories twice?

One of the things that intrigues me before was Makoto's comment about a bath when Yuma first met him.

It's quite a strange thing to say to a stranger

If you didn't know about the fact that Makoto is Yuma's homunculi

He describes a bath as a fleeting dream. Something temporary and neverlasting.

And attributes a bath, a fleeting dream according to his words, as "Washing away your sweat and past" and "Being born anew"

Taking sweat literally, it's a given. As the purpose of a bath is to cleanse ourselves as well as wash away the sweat we accumulated over time.

But taking sweat a bit more metaphorically, we can say that sweat represents the hardships one has experienced. Taking a bath is also our way to give ourselves a break from a busy day and relieve ourselves from the hardships we had experience during the day.

However, the past thing is a bit more strange and less straightforward in its reasoning. While a bath can wash away our past physical filth, it can't actually wash away our actual past.

And while a bath is refreshing and makes us feel rejuvenated, it does not actually "born us anew". In a way, to say that a bath can wash away our sweat and past and born us anew is a lie. An illusion. A temporary placebo effect if you will.

A fleeting dream.

Just like Makoto had said.

Applying his words on himself, Makoto acknowledges that a bath which he attributes to "washing away your sweat and past" and "being born anew" is nothing but a fleeting dream. A temporary thing to relief himself.

The thing about Makoto is that he cannot wash away his past. He still remembers and knows that he is Number One's homunculi and nothing can change that. He also knows that he is the only perfect homunculi to ever be made in existence.

No matter how much he may try, he cannot change that. Nor forget it. As it is a part of his memory, inherited or not.

As for the born anew part, I want to talk about something else first before delving into that.

When Makoto first entered Kanai Ward, he created the rain machine to stop the Blank Week Mystery. At this point of time, he would've already known that he was Number One's homunculi and that the new residents of Kanai Ward are also homunculi.

Rain can also be taken as a sort of symbolic bath.

There are times that people do take a bath in the rain for fun. With their clothes on of course.

And Makoto did mention that he also sometimes takes a bath with his clothes on.

And also, Makoto doesn't even use an umbrella or even a raincoat to protect himself from the rain when he's outside.

(My guy you are going to get sick. Get a hat or something! Why are my favs like this??)

The rain washed away the literal blood, sweat and tears of the previous human residents of Kanai Ward. And washed away the past atrocities the new residents had done in their mindless rampage away from their mind.

This was the moment Makoto Kagutsuchi's past of being an escaped lab experiment of the UG had been washed away.

And the moment Makoto Kagutsuchi was born anew as Amatarasu Corporation's CEO and the defacto leader and protector of Kanai Ward.

But like how the rain didn't completely washed away the aftermath of the Blank Wrek Mystery, the rain didn't completely washed away Makoto's past and memories.

Makoto is still stained and soiled from the past, regardless of how many baths he may take, it will never wash away.

A bath is nothing but a fleeting dream after all.

It is used to merely soothe. Never to completely erase away.

Now onto Yuma!

Applying these words on Yuma, we get a different result.

An intriguing thing about Makoto's words is that he uses to pronoun "Your" and "You're" while talking to Yuma.

While we can say that he's just using the pronoun "your" and "you're" to refer to an ambiguous you.

It's much more interesting if he is actually directing these words at Yuma himself.

"Your sweat and past are washed away. You're born anew"

Looking at it in this way, it's seems more like Makoto acknowledging the fact that Yuma is his original and that Yuma has lost his memories.

Upon entering Kanai Ward, the cage of rain, Yuma's sweat and past has been washed away. And with his memories and experiences of hardships during his time as Number One disappearing, he had quite literally been born anew.

He's quite different from how Number One acts after all. He's more trusting, more naive. More innocent. Unlike Number One.

Shinigami even comments on this, even indirectly.

He doesn't remember his past or his time at the WDO or being Number One. He doesn't remember anything and he was convinced that his real name is Yuma Kokohead.

That's quite unlike Makoto.

His contract with Shinigami had been so effective at washing away his past that he practically acted like a completely different person. Completely different from the Number One others knew.

Unlike Makoto's crude rebirth, Yuma's was a complete one.

His past had been washed away effectively, leaving behind no stains or soil. While we do see that Yuma retains his strong sense of justice and detective skills among other things, his memories on the matter are blurry. He feels the vague sensation of familiarity but not the actual memory associated with that sensation. It's fascinating.

Unlike Makoto whose memories still cling onto him, Yuma's memories are like the murky water that was washed away. He can try to cling onto the water as much as he likes but it eventually seeps out and away with only the sensation of wetness being left.

Not that Yuma actively searches for his memories. Though we do see Yuma wondering about his knowledge and his past self at times, finding his memories isn't his main goal. Finding his purpose and reason to find the truth is his main goal.

And it's because of this that he grew more than Makoto ever did. He surpassed the restrictions the past has given him and was born anew.

It makes Yuma recovering his memories as Number One but also losing his memories as Yuma after breaking his contract with Shinigami rather intriguing, but also in a way, tragic.

He was born anew yet again. But we're uncertain if Yuma's growth transferred to the newly reborn Number One.

It's quite tragic that we don't know what happened with Yuma after losing and regaining his memories yet again. While Makoto still retains his memories and knowledge of Number One Yuma.

It's quite unfair, isn't it?

#may asher rambles #rain code #rain code spoilers #makoto kagutsuchi #yuma kokohead #I wrote this before Vivia and Yakou's DLC came out #during different times so the consistency is probably odd #especially once it came to Yuma's section

[gudrunbrangwen]

the new spiderverse movie is such an extreme example of how dystopian corporate copyright has become. let’s demonstrate how many wildly different iterations of this character we have the legal might to produce under the “spider-man” copyright umbrella. let’s exploit the workers actually involved in this project, giving them unmanageable schedules and rapidly changing goalposts. not to mention packing people like sacrificial lambs to the shareholders into theatres in the midst of an ongoing pandemic. let’s make a blatant copaganda film! but YOU cannot make a red cent off of spider-man, because spider-man does not belong to you. you can celebrate him in a handful of acceptable ways (narrow definitions of fanart, cosplay, buying more products from us), but only WE can make the official spider-men. we who own the spider-men make the world, you stupid fucking worms

[horrorlove14]

Safe Haven - Resident Evil

Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy x Wife! Reader

Cute fluff, minor angst from getting separated due to the outbreak and brief mention of suggestive themes and injuries.

Leon and his beloved wife had known each other since childhood when they grew up in the same neighbourhood, attended the same schools and often played together where they were inseparable.

He asked her to become his girlfriend during high school prom, which she happily accepted as she shared the same feelings, which made him the happiest teenage boy ever.

They went on cute dates and shared their first everything together from kissing to losing their virginity.

They moved in together after graduation and eventually as time went on, Leon proposed to her with a beautiful engagement ring as he started the police academy.

Once the police academy was over, they got married and moved to Raccoon City as Leon got a job offer there as a rookie cop, hoping to make new memories in a new city together.

Unfortunately, they couldn't experience married life as the outbreak caused by the Umbrella Corporation happened and they, unfortunately, got separated without means of communication.

They never gave up on each other and always prayed that they will be reunited someday and finally experience the married life that they deserve by hopefully having children and growing old together.

After what felt like an entirety of waiting for so long, Leon and his wife were finally reunited and had an emotional moment together by shedding tears of happiness and hugging each other so tightly that they were afraid to let each other go if they were to get separated again.

They finally caught up with each other by telling stories about the adventures and missions they went on and have gotten scars and injuries as a result.

Later that night, they used their bodies and words to convey their feelings and relive their wedding night as they missed the sensation of becoming one together, having their bodies being entangled with one another and the high they experience during the act.

A few weeks later, both of them adopted the young Sherry Birkin into their family and found out that they were expecting at the same time which made it the happiest days of their lives.

Throughout the whole pregnancy, Leon and Sherry are so doting toward her and always making sure that she and the baby are alright.

Sherry looks forward to the day when she officially becomes a big sister because she was an only child back then with her late parents.

Once when it's time for the baby to arrive, Leon is in the delivery room with his wife to support her during the birth while Sherry is being looked after by Chris and Claire.

After a long and painful labour, both of they have welcomed their first child, a healthy baby boy which they named Logan.

They couldn't be more happier after becoming new parents with their own child but also being adoptive parents to a young girl who lost her own parents in tragic circumstances.

Needless to say, they all become a big happy family with hopes that the world would eventually become normal for the children's sake as they got a long way to go in life.

‐---------------------------------------------------------------------

End of story. Likes and reblogs are very much appreciated.

#writing #resident evil imagine #resident evil one shot #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil x reader #resident evil fluff #resident evil fic #resident evil fandom #resident evil franchise #resident evil #resident evil x you #wife reader #videogames #video game fanfic #video game #video games #fanfiction #fan fiction #writers on tumblr #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s. kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy imagines #leon kennedy x y/n #leon scott kennedy #leon scott kennedy imagines

[resizura]

hi, i am putting this on anonymous because i am shy. what are some themes you would like/wish the remakes to expand on?

I'm answering this late I am very sorry

SO this is a lot for me to think about and hopefully i can keep it concise because I tend to ramble

Put under a 'Read More' because this will be super long

To start, I think that I just wish Capcom wouldn't be so lukewarm with its themes. This is probably the biggest problem because (to me, at least) it can't focus on what it wants to tell the audiences.

They are obviously trying to make the series way more "serious" and yet they completely tone down its foundational messages. Sure some of that has to do with the more actiony tone it took after RE4, but let's just back up to the original trilogy.

RE1, RE2, and RE3 were essentially a three-part and yet self contained story that followed a small cast of police officers (save claire and carlos) during the zombie apocalypse. An apocalypse that was caused by corporate greed and the need to capitalize and profit off of scientific research for militarization purposes. While a little silly and outlandish in the final product, the three games (especially 2, IMO) have great storytelling and execution of its themes. Umbrella and Raccoon City Police are corrupt, and there are terrible ethics surrounding BOWs.

Now compare that to the remakes. Now, RE1make is my favorite remake because it kept the original feel and look to the game, kept the story relatively the same, and improved on it in terms of voice lines, graphics, and gameplay. The only major change is adding Lisa Trevor, who I think is a great addition because we get to follow the Trevor family through the game and get a look at how Umbrella exploited them and made them into monsters, a personal touch on something hard for us to comprehend.

RE2make and RE3make on the other hand.... well now we have around 20 extra years of Resident Evil to influence these and if you're familiar with my blog, you'll know that story wise, I do not like these games (especially RE2make). These games changed so much of the original story to make them more "realistic" and in the process, sort of lost the plot. Too many times in the modern remakes, things happen that hint to something from the original games but overall? It's not there.

As an example, I want to go over specifically how the police chief Brian Irons is portrayed. In the original game, the player learns little bits about him through files. We know he's dangerous, violent, and has been taking bribes from Umbrella. The bribes are to help him have control over the city. He was highly influential in the Spencer Mansion cover up, where his main role was shutting down STARS so they wouldn't be able to investigate the incident. He worked directly with William and Annette Birkin and took bribes to prevent police from investigating the sewers so their lab work was undisturbed. In RE2, we see him spiraling because "Umbrella destroyed his beautiful town." He traps and kills police officers and innocent civilians, basically rants to Claire about how power hungry he is and he is the one who gets to choose who lives and dies in his police station. Basically, we see point blank that Irons is egotistical and wants nothing more than to keep that power for himself. A corrupt police chief who shows how money and power twist a person for the worse.

In RE2make, he is reduced to just a sick man who physically beats up the young female characters and just wants to torture people. While the bribes are still (briefly) mentioned in this game most of Irons' character is now "Look at how sick this guy is! Isn't he scary? Wow! He's so scary isn't he?" There's nothing about his need and desire for power and control over his city and police station (hell, he leaves the police station 3 seconds after he's introduced!). Sure, you could argue it's implied, but this is a perfect example of Capcom not really committing to something it strongly depicted in the past.

Looking at RE4 Remake, a similar issue occurs! The original game was vehemently anti-American. The file "Our Mission" is the most explicit you can get. Yet the remake tiptoes around it and honestly ends up more patriotic! Leon's role as a government agent is glorified, Ashley wants to be an agent, Krauser gets told off by Leon for not trusting the American government, and the lack of Saddler appearances all contribute to this! Death Island and Infinite Darkness had similar problems of Capcom calling out the American government but then backtracking at the last second. I want them to just stick to a theme for once! Not alluding to one or tiptoeing around it. Say it!

Next on the list is one that I've stated before but the actual ethics and humanity that organizations like Umbrella toy with. A lot of the BOWs feel just like monsters you fight when a lot of them were real people with their lives taken from them. This is also why I liked Lisa Trevor from the first game's remake since she was a human experimented on and we got taken through her and her parent's journeys. OG William Birkin and Remake William Birkin are also perfect examples of this. In the original game you feel like you're fighting Birkin, but in the remake it just feels like a depersonalized monster.

Similarly, I do wish some of the themes were done more tastefully, such as the whole eugenics stuff with Spencer and the Wesker projects. I don't think it should be completely scrapped but I feel like you can't just throw that into your games and barely talk about what it means lmao

This is not really a theme but better perspectives on the female characters. This is purely a personal opinion but I think horror with female protagonists is way cooler than ones with male protagonists, and weirdly enough I think this shift happened when RE4 came out. Jill and Claire were more fleshed out and important characters than Leon and Chris when the OG trilogy came out, but now their roles have been greatly reduced to practically nothing. And why was RE6, a game where a creepy man cloned Ada Wong more about Leon, Chris, and Jake than it was about Ada herself? Also, I wish we could've had either of RE7 or RE8 actually have Mia be the protagonist instead of Ethan because I think either of those games from her perspective would be super cool to experience.

Now that I think about this, I blame this purely on the action shift because even for the male characters, I greatly prefer OG2 Leon, OG2/CVX Chris, CVX Steve than OG4 Leon, OG5 Chris, and DSC Steve (although Remake Carlos is definitely above OG3 Carlos). I want to learn more about Jill, and Claire, and Ada, and Rebecca, and Mia, and pretty much most of the female characters, and I'm so sick of seeing the male characters who are only there because they're cool action heroes.

I wish RE focused more on small communities and small isolated things. I think RE is too big now. Like starting out in a small suburban town affected by murders and experimentation and now like we've gone to multiple parts of the globe and now there's a mold baby with mold superpowers in the future and that mold is actually what started everything (totally not retconned)?? Like let's dial it back.

For the last thing I'll mention is that I wish the remakes focused on the themes of horror rather than just the aesthetics of it. Like yeah, the games are a bit darker and scarier, but they're still more action games now. I loved RE7 because of this, because the Bakers were a good horrific family both in the looks and what they represented!

I think all in all I have a lot of wishes for the franchise and I know it's completely unrealistic to wish about them and sorry for bombarding everyone with this huge wall of text! I have a lot to say lmao

#ask #whoo this was a lot #im sure i missed something too #i wanted to keep talking about re4r's themes and why they make me mad #but! maybe another day #i have a lot to say

[sapphire-weapon]

i find it really funny that RE fandom is convinced that RE9 is going to continue the BSAA plotline set up at the end of RE8 simply based on the fact that it was set up at the end of RE8

when RE7 -> RE8 is literally the only direct sequel in the entire series of games. based on this franchise's history, it's actually very likely that they resolve the BSAA thing off screen or just don't even mention it at all ever again.

"blue umbrella needs resolution"??? THEY NEVER EVEN FUCKING RESOVLED REGULAR UMBRELLA EVEN.

THEY DESTROYED THE CORPORATION OFF SCREEN AND JUST GAVE WESKER A NEW CORPO INSTEAD ("the organization" which they never even properly really named, and also forgot that ada was also supposed to be in it), WHICH THEY THEN FORGOT ABOUT, AND THEN GAVE HIM ANOTHER NEW CORPO (tricell), WHICH ALSO WENT NOWHERE AND WAS ONLY PRESENT IN ONE SINGLE GAME.

DID YOU FORGET ABOUT ALEX WESKER

BECAUSE CAPCOM SURE DID

resident evil's story is bad. don't ever expect it to follow through with anything it ever does.

RE9 will probably have absolutely nothing to do with anything that happened in 7 or 8 outside of some loosely connected monster lore.

[awkward-tension-art]

Remain By His Side Chp.5 Unable to Sleep

Chapter 4. Chapter 6. (Smut)

Leon, with dread, realized how he felt about you.

Warnings: Leon needs a hug, self-hate, one-sided love, Leon being Leon, talks of Raccoon City, grief, death mention, guilt

Leon only had a week before he was taken for more training. A week to spend with you.

He wanted to tell you. Desperately. 

He wanted to tell you why he was going to special forces. He wanted to tell you that they put a gun to Sherry’s head. They threatened you, willing to snuff your life out as well if he didn’t comply. You and your cousin were unknowing cards in the hand of the government. 

No. He had to keep you safe. Let you live your life in blissful ignorance to the threat. 

The night he told you about Raccoon City, there was a light that died in your eyes. The reality of it all had set in, knowing the horrors your aunt unleashed onto the world. He recognized guilt. The same guilt he saw in himself every time he looked in a mirror.

You knew what happened, the day you two met in the military compound. But this was the first time that details were properly given. Nothing was hidden.

He must’ve traumatized you. Your brother died in Raccoon City, so maybe your mind gave you the thoughts that he was one of the undead that Leon shot down. 

The former rookie held you as you cried. Strangely, you apologized to him. For the crimes of your aunt. For working at Umbrella Corp for a summer. For having the dark and corrupt corporation on your resume.

Another reason to feel guilty, Leon thought, he made you cry…

You had given him several months of peace. Security. Time to heal physically. You gave him a taste of a normal family. You gave him holidays with company, as opposed to the solitude he was used to. Dinners with parents. Celebrations with siblings. All things Leon didn’t have. 

And to repay you? He made you cry. 

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, trying to calm you down, “I shouldn’t have said anything…”

“No.” you calmed quickly. It was a skill, to shut off your emotions and don the mask of stoicism, “I needed it. The truth.”

You had no idea…

He nodded, “Are you ok?”

There was thick silence. As if you weren’t entirely sure how to answer, “No,” you were honest, “But I think I will be.” You pulled away from him, wiping your tears.

The former rookie nodded again. He felt…cold when you stepped back.

With terror, he realized what he felt. 

You were the warmth in a blizzard. A roof during a storm. The feeling in his heart was something he hadn’t felt before. 

A deep affection. A desperate longing for you. To hold you close. To kiss your lips. To love you and be loved by you. 

Fuck!

He looked at you, hand twitching at his side. It took a lot of will to stop himself from wiping your tears. He couldn’t make you uncomfortable. He couldn’t cross unspoken boundaries. You’ve given him so much, and the idea of harming you…

He didn’t want to break you.

“Listen, I…” Leon would swallow his feelings. 

No. These weren't true feelings. They couldn’t be. He was clinging to you in a desperate attempt to maintain the sliver of good in his fucked up life. You were a means to stability. To keep something of an existence in his hell. He could play pretend, act like he had a family. People who loved and cared about him. All because of you.

That's all. This wasn’t love. It couldn’t be. It was gratitude. Appreciation for everything.

“I'm here for you.” Leon settled on those words, “I promise.” He gave you a small, reassuring smirk.

You returned his smile with your own, “Thanks Leon, you're the best.”

“Hardly,” He snorted, “I didn’t give you a graduation gift.” 

Your hand went to his own at his side. Your eyes, clear and beautiful, met his, “Your presence is a good enough gift.”

His heart beat loudly in his chest. Your touch felt like electricity up his arm.

Oh fuck. Gratitude didn’t feel so…intense.

Later that night, hours after you had gone to bed, he stared at his ceiling. Realization hit him like a train. He couldn’t deny his feelings for long at all. His silent argument with himself had lasted an astounding 30 seconds. 

He liked you. 

He liked liked you. 

The former rookie put his hands to his face, rubbing his eyelids.

He’s had crushes growing up. A few through his growing years. He even had a girlfriend in high school for a few months. But after he graduated, he left his hometown and never looked back. Even while he got his degree before the academy he wasn’t interested in finding anyone. 

Until today, it seemed. 

When had his heart opened to you? Was it when you two met at the military compound? Was it love at first sight?

Or maybe it was the night you talked with him during a storm. 

Or during the holidays as you introduced him to your extended family. 

Maybe it was today, seeing you in your cap and gown, eyes bright and smile wide.

“Oh fuck.” he mumbled to himself. 

How could he untangle his messy feelings from you? How could he shove this affection down? 

Leon didn’t want to walk away. He wasn’t strong enough. This life you’ve invited him into. This family that you asked him to join…this security and happiness. He couldn’t give it up.

Selfish. Selfish. Selfish.

He was selfish. Plain and simple. He selfishly saved himself in Raccoon City. He selfishly let Ada slip from his hand and fall to her demise. He selfishly put a bullet in Marvin, undead or not. He selfishly let the first officer, officer Elliot, get ripped apart by zombies. He didn’t save anyone. Sherry had been saved by Claire, not him.

Leon was a selfish, powerless, coward.

He turned onto his side and closed his eyes, praying for some fucking sleep. What time was it now? 2AM? 3AM? 

Did it matter?

His feelings wouldn’t fade over a single night. He’d be stuck in this dark pit for a while. 

He swallowed again, praying he could fall asleep soon.

#leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #reader insert #my writing

[eviltothecore13]

DBD gave us new Carlos lore!

DBD is the first time Carlos has been referred to as a communist in English--when previously he was a communist in Japanese but only an “anti-government guerrilla” in English and then RE3 remake didn’t mention it much at all.

It ALSO expands on his backstory and gives us more details--more than original RE3 itself ever gave us!

Carlos Oliveira was born amid unrest in an unnamed country in South America. Witnessing various tragedies against his family, a seven-year old Carlos decided to become a thief himself to provide for them. Three years later, he would attempt to raid a farm, only to be captured by nationalist rebels who planned on executing the boy. Carlos was then saved by a communist guerilla group and joined their ranks, believing them to be the only people who would defend the poor and defenseless. In the 1990s, the government began to crack down on rebel forces. Carlos' team fought to the end, but everybody except for him were captured. A well known figure by this point, the government planned on publicly executing Carlos, but his freedom was bought out by the Umbrella Corporation. A despondent Carlos accepted their offer to join their private military unit, his friends and family mostly dead.

#resident evil #Carlos Oliveira

[blankfairy]

thank you sm for the tag @thenn!! this was really fun!

1. How many works do you have on ao3 (or masterlist)? twelve total published!! but a hell of a lot more rotting in my google drive and three-ring binders haha

2. What’s your total ao3 word count? 23,456 including my fics from my nsfw account. (i can't believe it's all sequential??)

3. What fandoms do you write for? currently, resident evil and house of the dragon. in the past i've written for overwatch, fortnite, and warrior cats. i'd love to do some silent hill stuff, too!

4. Top five fics by kudos in his nature (nsfw) — 265 kudos afterglow (nsfw) — 212 kudos thunderclan's smallest warrior — 74 kudos a taste of home — 47 kudos i'd be lying if i said i wasn't wishing for an untimely death or demise — 45 kudos two of these are warrior cats fics from YEARS ago too :sob:

5. Do you respond to comments? ofc!!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? all my fics are one-shots,, but.... published... this is how a girl becomes holy? and then my two wip longfics, folie a deux and all things devour are bound to have unhappy endings.

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? afterglow probably?? just because it's just two dudes having fun. being silly. i generally quite enjoy angst, so...

8. Do you get hate on fics? luckily not! but i don't post a lot, either. i did get banned from a discord roleplay server once because of a fic i wrote tho lol

9. Do you write smut? yup!! i have an ao3 account specifically for it.

10. Craziest crossover? house of the dragon and resident evil, maybe? it's not 'legally' a crossover but i'm just asoiaf-ifying the umbrella corporation and the weskers.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? no, but i did have someone steal some ocs back on quotev, years ago.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? nope!

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

14. All time favorite ship? canon/canon or oc/canon? let's see,, c/c, serrenedy (leon s. kennedy x luis serra). i mean, with a ship name like that, who can resist? i'd say willsker (william birkin x albert wesker) but. um. i've got other uses for william birkin. i also love weskennedy (albert wesker x leon s. kennedy) for. other reasons. oc/canon, i'm definitely biased but finn x will LMAOO not that they're good together or all that compatible but they're both awful and should never date anyone ever except for each other. exception being that time finn married larys strong in asoiaf and they were also perfectly awful for each other.

15. What’s a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? not saying, crossing my fingers, doubting its completion will only bring that to fruition!!

16. What are your writing strengths? my partner tells me he likes my dialogue and that it feels realistic, and i like to think that i'm good with descriptions, setting scenes, etc. there's a particular action scene in my resident evil longfic that i'm very proud of, and lots of visceral descriptions of gore that i think are done really well!

17. What are your writing weaknesses? i'm not sure,, i definitely procrastinate a lot, and i'm really bad at taking criticism. trying to do better but i'm just so sensitive akjbsdkjbfksdj

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language? i mean, sure!! i'm a little iffy sometimes because translators can be whacky, but i'll either around, check reddit, etc. little phrases i don't mind. usually i just put the phrase in italics and mention them saying it in said language.

19. First fandom you wrote in? it was either warrior cats or supernatural! i think it was maybe even a supernatural/elder scrolls crossover? i remember toiling away in my digital art class, writing in the tiniest text i could because i was embarrassed haha

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? of the ones published? woof. um. i honestly have no idea. that's like picking a favorite child lol.

tagging: anyone who wants to do it!! i get embarrassed tagging people :sob: i don't want to be annoying

#tag game #james writes

[spidermilkshake]

Взаимное уважение (Vzaimnoye Uvazheniye) 1:

More RE fanfiction, of a different kind and a different time--post Raccoon City Incident, and very far away from all that. But we do get some further insight into the modus operandi and the nature/nurture of a particular scary Colonel and his personal Ivan Tyrant bodyguards.

Content Warnings: Mentions of Corporate Bullshit, Cursing (mostly in Russian), anxiety and mentions of trauma, otherwise tame.

Взаимное уважение (Vzaimnoye Uvazheniye), 1:

--------------------------------------

            The security had been about what Collin had expected; two checkpoints had the rather understated Umbrella agent stop his car for pairs of beefy men brandishing Kalashnikovs… or something like Kalashnikovs, anyways. Collin didn’t know guns, except to not say anything stupid and simply hand off his identification to the ones aiming the guns at him. The armed guards grunted, waved him through to the next set of gates, and willfully ignored this weedy annoyance. Ahead, he spied the actual complex itself, though it was beyond the reach of the dirt one-lane road he’d been on for the past half mile, and stopped the slightly dented, rented vehicle to step out and investigate his route further—the complex was, technically, a residence though not a typical one.

The man who lived there was also not a typical one. Colonel Sergei Vladimir was considered “retired” from Umbrella’s board, but as with most people involved with the company it was impossible to cut all ties, even when the break was legitimate and not just legal smokescreen. Though the Colonel could put a safe distance from the business of genetically-engineered super-virals and the cutthroat bioweaponry environment—sitting comfortably on the stacks of money gained from quite literally selling off bits of himself—he seemed to have prepared well for someone to have found out his involvement anyhow, and be ready to withdraw like a tortoise and fight to the death. He seemed the type, just from what Collin knew. At least a dozen experimental Tyrants had been cloned directly from this bizarre old Soviet, and a dozen more at least had large chunks of his genome spliced into them in the embryonic stages.  

            Collin did not like Tyrants… not the individual creatures and definitely not the concept of them. Despite still being on Umbrella business and very much out of his element, Collin was at least relieved that he was isolated in a private piece of the Ukrainian countryside, and not stuck in some laboratory or test range with the hulking monsters’ cloudy, vacant eyes following his every move. Not nearly as vacant as they looked…

            There was a third checkpoint area at the end of the small footpath some fifty yards down the hill from where he’d left the car, though no guards appeared to be standing at their normal places. There was only a smaller, ordinary metal fence with a very much not-security oriented latch between himself and a small patio leading up to a Brutalist-styled house’s front entrance, and after waiting a few seconds Collin timidly lifted the latch and let himself onto the brick pavers. Still there was no sign of a final checkpoint guard, so he called out once in English, then kicked himself mentally and tried again in a wavery Russian. No voice replied. There wasn’t even the bark of a sentry dog. Steeling his fragile spine, Collin took the next few paces over to the heavy oak door and thought about knocking. There was obviously no doorbell…

            Behind him and to his left came a swift stamping of heavy boots, and Collin spun around in terror as their trajectory stopped less than a yard from him. A tremor rattled the paver he was standing on. He’d already craned his neck up expecting to be glared down by the standard six-foot meathead soldier and cursed out in a mix of tongues for crossing the threshold without clearance. He instead came eye-to-chest with a wall of heavy white fabric. His neck had to creak up another few notches—and Collin shuddered at what was looming very much into his personal space.

            A Tyrant. Of course there would be a goddamn Tyrant, even out here. It wasn’t even a very big one as the trained killer biomutants went—but it was still well in the range of what Collin considered way too damn big for anything that superficially resembled a bald, mute, and jacked humanoid.

            There was… something else weird here too, which Collin didn’t place until the seven-foot-plus monstrosity had stopped and stared the little man down for several seconds, and then leaned its deep grey, leathery face closer. Collin flinched, bringing his hands up into a default position of surrender as he silently prayed the thing was not under any kind of kill orders. With a delayed startle he realized the Tyrant had been… wearing something extra with its bright white Limiter coat.

            Were those… sunglasses?

            Well, maybe “blinders” was also appropriate. They were an iridescent orange, wrap-around type which almost completely obscured the creature’s eyes and brows. The need was obvious: Tyrants of all production phases, all models, and all model variants had long been known to have extremely sensitive eyesight—and prolonged damage from bright sun or frequent flashbangs was the reason behind the eerie, pupilless appearance that many of them developed. Why this one was given a piece of eye protection that was so goofy-looking, like it was off to escort its master to a rave, Collin couldn’t quite understand.

            The goofiness of the glasses did not do much to lessen the very real possibility that Collin was going to piss himself and cry before falling down. The Tyrant had cocked its head slightly, and let out a confused grunt before lowering its head even closer. Its face was almost brushing up on Collin’s messy mop of hair; it sucked in a few heavy sniffs, straightened up, and repeated the process on each of the man’s upraised hands. Collin’s bladder nearly gave up the fight as a second set of thundering footsteps came around the house and loomed in from the right: Another Tyrant. This one was near-identical, except for the goofy sunglasses it wore being blue. This mutant also began sniffing heavily over the elevated portions of the intruder, letting out a low warning growl as Collin tried to duck out of its easy reach.

…What the hell were they doing? Were they under orders at all? Or was he screwed—simply happening to catch these things’ interest while they were freely roaming, and about to get out-of-control mauled by the two of them?

            A large hand stretched out and pawed at the breast pocket of Collin’s shirt, and he stifled a yelp. He held still as a statue as the other’s hands began investigating his open coat pockets, growling a bit more emphatically as its gloved fingers closed over his tube of Chapstick. It snatched the tube, studied it for a second, then gave it an exploratory sniff before baring its upper teeth in disgust and flinging it away. The orange-visored monster was now digging into his slack’s pockets—still with a casual scent-check over Collin’s jacket shoulder as the man couldn’t suppress his squeak in alarm.

Maybe he wasn’t dead. The Tyrants seemed to be searching him—and a fair bit more politely than a TSA agent at that—and once the two monsters had seemingly determined that this intruder had no weapons, poisons, or other dangerous things they’d been ordered to watch for, they let up on the rough grabbing, the menacing growls, and stood back. It wasn’t easy to tell thanks to the ridiculous wrap-around headgear, but the Tyrants now seemed to be calmly watching him. The blue-visored one tilted its head sharply as Collin started lowering his hands to curl up around chest level, and grunted sharply at him.

            What the hell did that mean? Were they… waiting for orders from him now? He wished his voice wasn’t cracking like his balls hadn’t dropped and also that he’d thought to bring some water for his dry mouth:

            “U-umm… English? You understand?”

            To Collin’s shock, the two began nodding eagerly, tensed on their feet like pointer dogs focused on a hidden, quivering rabbit.

            “Right, um, I’ve come to meet with Sergei Vladimir. Is he here?”

            Both started to move, stopping as their broad shoulders bumped into each other and each issued a deep rumble of dissatisfaction as they glared at each other, noses only inches apart. The snarls raised in pitch until finally the slightly bigger one in the orange visor relented, shifting its weight in place, leaving the blue-visored one to tromp off around the side of the house presumably to fetch the ex-Spetsnaz Colonel. Collin tried to just get some oxygen without hyperventilating as he got left with the even less ideal situation. Being small, and being guarded by a seven-foot-plus mutant born and bred to crack heads open and punch through walls.

            “H-he’s, uh, gone to find the Colonel?” He must have snapped if he was chatting with a lethal bioweapon. But anything to help him forget the monstrous nature of the thing still standing less than a yard away, right?

            To Collin’s surprise, the Tyrant peered back down at him and gave a curt bob of its head. He began to nervously chuckle, uncontrollably.

            “Aheh… heh… good… that’s good…”

            The thing grunted again, sounding… interested, confused, annoyed? Collin couldn’t tell, and backed up to the door as the Tyrant suddenly shifted its weight towards him, leaning its entire head, shoulders, and massive chest down as if ready to headbutt him or crush him bodily against the closest wall. Collin flinched, hands wrapping up to futilely protect his eggshell-flimsy skull. He didn’t think he’d done anything provoking, but then the Colonel was known to be a bit on the crazy side. His personal Tyrants might also be trained to be a bit crazy to match.

            But nothing hit him… Cracking an eye open, Collin was startled by the sight of a wrinkly, grey ear hovering less than a foot from his face. The Tyrant was just holding the bent-over posture, waiting. Was it… looking at something by his shoes? There was nothing there but the cracks in the pavers and a light-colored moss. After a second the creature gave a soft groan—now definitely confused and shifting from foot to foot in impatience.

            “W-Uh-Wh-What do you w-want?” Collin prayed to whatever power existed that the Tyrant could parse his stammers. The thing blew a heavy snort through its nostrils, then answered very, very clearly, though the man still half-squealed at the reply he got: It groaned again, it pressed its shoulder sideways against Collin’s, and dipped its head further to bump softly against his forehead.

…Was this… normal for Tyrants? Was it… asking him to, what, pet it, like a dog or something?

            “Well—go on!” A deep, jovial voice chuckled from where its owner was stepping out around the side-yard. “Don’t leave him like that too long! Reward the poor Vanya before he gets let down!”

            Collin’s attention snapped to the tall, white-haired older man who was standing (and trying not the laugh) with the blue-visored Tyrant faithfully shadowing him. His right eye was closed permanently and still marked with a long scar, and he was wearing heavy outdoor boots, trousers, and a half-open coat even in the faint chill of the spring air. He was imposing indeed—barely looking small compared to these Tyrants, and also wore an insufferably amused smirk.

            “Ah, uh—” Collin was still afraid of whatever it meant to “let down” the insistent monster mashing itself into his side, and reached up while trying his best to keep his hand from shaking. Since the thing kept pushing its head further into his personal bubble, Collin gave the creature a quick scratch over the scalp as he might an overtly-friendly dog. The Tyrant let out a rumble that seemed contented, twisting its neck so that the fumbling hand was over the desired spot.

            “Seems Podushka likes you, ahaha!” the man, who could only be the Colonel, guffawed as he watched his visitor’s terrified expression turn fully confused under the barrage of the Tyrant still snuggling heavily onto him. “Come on, get some nerve! The big beast isn’t going to hurt you, сука. Ugh, what kind of hiring is Umbrella resorting to these days?”

            Colonel Sergei said something short and level in… Russian possibly, though he didn’t understand it. The Tyrant—or “Podushka”—swiftly retreated from Collin’s armsreach and grunted in an acknowledgement. The Colonel then stepped over towards his guest with the other Tyrant not far behind and squinted downwards.

            “Hmmm… You’re the one here about the settlement, yes? What do I call you?”

            “C-Collin Davies, sir. Yes, you’re quite right,” he straightened up, trying not to reveal just how chilly he was now that fear-sweat had soaked right through to his lapels, “I’m from Umbrella’s U.K. branch… Just here to confirm with you some things that will, ah, assure your immunity.”

            “Hmph… Might as well get cozy, with all this legal pizdets…” Sergei appeared to chew at the inside of his cheek a moment. “We should do this inside. Laska! Podushka! Follow.”

            Okay, this big Soviet bastard definitely found his phobia of Tyrants hilarious; there was a smirk on his face as he opened the door and let the agent in—making sure the still-rumbling Podushka was right behind the tiny man the whole way.

            Well… at least Colonel Vladimir’s hospitality was as big as whatever offshore bank account his work at Umbrella had bloated. The older man bade him make himself comfortable in one of the armchairs of what was either a living room or a particularly lush study, the dim coals of the last night’s warming fire still glowing in the nearby hearth. Collin politely accepted the glass of ice-water but had to turn down the shot of fiery spirits that his host also offered. Sergei downed his own in a split-second, barely reacting, and passed the unclaimed shot over to the blue-visored Tyrant, who gave it a tentative sniff and drank it almost as swiftly.

            “Nnr!”

            It half-choked, gray nose and lips wrinkling up as it shook its head. Sergei cackled as he took the empty shot glass back from its twitching hands.

            “Ohh, poor Laska. I’m cruel to you, yes? So cruel I give you the thirty-euro vodka… come on, hush, you’re fine. My fantastic Ivan, eh? There you are,” The Colonel plucked something from his pocket and pushed it into the Tyrant’s palm, which upon being studied lit the creature’s face up and earned a higher-pitched grunt.

            While the creature tore open the wrapper and devoured whatever it was that the Colonel had given it, Sergei kicked up his feet onto the small stool close by and sighed.

            “Now, business…”

            Collin knew more gory details than he liked to, but such was required working in the position he did. Many Umbrella executives were now either M.I.A.—presumably either dead, the traitors responsible for the recent disastrous outbreak, or part of the response now running as far from association with the company as possible—or they were part of the ring of board members which the United States Government was now putting under the microscope. Except for the Colonel. There was no official record of his current or recent work under Umbrella, despite his role in salvaging what could be found out of the Raccoon City Incident before the place was “sterilized” in the flash of the USA’s nuclear judgment. Judging from the fact that Colonel Vladimir had helicoptered in, recovered at least one archive and a supercomputer alongside several Monitors and other personnel, and lived to escape was a testament to the fact that Sergei had perhaps been the only competent person involved in that little fiasco that Collin’s boss had dared to call “damage control”.

            The lack of paper or digital trail was very beneficial to Colonel Vladimir’s case—as was the strong evidence which still existed of mismanagement and sabotage from a certain Albert Wesker and Dr. William Birkin, the latter of which was definitely dead and the former disappeared to parts unknown. There would still be sanctions, reparation settlements that would be ordered, and at least a few of the artificially-high-ranked useless toadies on Umbrella’s executive branch would have as much culpability redirected onto their records as possible to give the courts a few sacrificial targets to lay down prison sentences. Umbrella would survive—in what state it couldn’t be said yet, but it would survive this. And by virtue of not being provably anywhere near the States at the time and comfortably at home in a former Soviet country where extradition was rare even for the less powerful… Sergei Vladimir would likely not be seeing the inside of a courtroom.

            Sergei grumbled as he scanned the statements he was to sign and initial, one hand wandering to a small switchblade which he slipped from a pocket and fidgeting with it. Collin tried not to watch the flash of light as the blade flicked out, in, out again—and tried even harder not to stare in alarm as the behemoth of a man then turned the tip of the exposed knife up to his mouth, teeth clicking against metal as he chewed on it. He only stopped as a tiny dribble of blood ran down his gums and beaded at the corner of his mouth, but apparently, he did not stop from pain; the Tyrant left standing by Collin’s chair (Podushka) began to make a soft groaning that almost sounded like a whine, head locked in the direction of its master’s visible bleeding.

            “Hm.” Sergei sheathed and put away the weapon, then wiped away the blood on the back of his sleeve, “Very well, I should sign. I am losing track of time, you see… good, my Ivan! You keep me on task.”

            Podushka’s plaintive noise turned immediately to the more satisfied rumble at the sound of praise. The other—what had he called it again? Laksha? Lasya?—leaned closer to its master’s large armchair and its nostrils flared in a few sniffs, detecting the presence of its master’s blood and tensing up visibly. Sergei chuckled and reached around to pat this Tyrant on the shoulder.

            “Laska, shh.” Vladimir smiled, and not with the schadenfreude as he had at the plight of his guest. Collin watched, completely dumbfounded. He had never seen anyone handle one of these killer mutants this way before; half of the Tyrant training staff he’d ever asked would have said anyone with their guard this low around a T-103 model was asking for at least an accidental fracture, if not far, far worse.

    ��       While Sergei quickly got to work signing and initialing, Collin could not help but notice that the Colonel’s one functioning eye was scrutinizing the far less physically impressive man with a troubling glint in it. As the Colonel flipped to the last place that needed his distinctive scrawl, another almost playful grin was pointed over his way.

            “I see you have been surprised by these two. So, what you make of my Ivans?”

            “Ah… ‘Ivans’, sir?” Collin tried not to let the increase in the sweat beading over his brow be obvious, “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the Tyrant model… Er, they’re T-103s?”

            “Derivative model. By you there is designated T-IVAN-012, and here we have T-IVAN-013. Split embryo. Twin brothers, you could say. But yes, very like the T-103s.” Sergei smirked, “You do not work around such fantastic beasts, do you?”

            “Well, er, actually… a-around them, not exactly with…”

            The Colonel raised up a brow, “Really? Your fear suggests you have no experience whatsoever.”

            “On the contrary,” Collin’s lips split in an anxious, uncontrolled grimace which he quickly warped into a smile, “I’ve had some, uh, not necessarily pleasant experiences. F-frequently.” At this Collin’s heart dropped as the daunting man’s face soured into a somewhat suspicious frown. He said something snappily to the Ivan named Laska, who turned and retrieved a few small objects from one of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves before coming back to its master and holding them out. Vladimir grabbed up the cigar first, chomped it a bit more roughly than necessary, and then took the matchbook.

            “Mr. Davies,” he growled around the cigar as he lit it, pausing to take a few strong puffs, “By chance do you recall the facilities where these… not pleasant and frequent experiences occurred to you?”

            “Oh, not to me,” Collin tittered, wiping the back of his neck, “I don’t think I’d be alive now if that stuff was towards me. No no, I just, ah… saw a lot of things in my different placements.”

            “Hm-mm. Saw a lot of Tyrants, eh?”

            “Y-yes. And their handlers.”

            “Come, tell me about some. The training and news of such beasts is a great interest of mine. As you maybe could tell,” he lightened up once more, though there was still a glare aimed his way even while Sergei rewarded Laska once more with a sturdy series of pats on the shoulder which it not-so-subtly leaned into.

            “Er… well, I’m Umbrella U.K. primarily, so I do a lot of assignments at the U.C.T. complex up in Orkney,” his mouth started running, and Collin wasn’t sure what he could do to stop it. Maybe he’d look a bit less of a cowardly bastard if he did go into detail; probably not—this Russian bear was a Soviet-Afghanistan veteran and anything human versus human was likely so much more disturbing than what Collin had to offer. But then it seemed a bit of a relief of pressure to spill the beans to this crazy Colonel. He seemed to have certain… opinions of Collin’s superiors that these violent spectacles he’d witnessed would no doubt prop up a bit higher.

            “We had Tyrant groups transferred there. For uh, specialized training I think. I’m not good with what the purpose of it all was. I was mostly just filing the paperwork. There was this one time a few years ago that a group of three were coming through for training before they got passed along to the buyer in… Sweden, I think.

            “They had a bunch of handlers, of course. They’re 300 kilo monsters, and sometimes they just won’t move the way you want them to.”

            “That they are,” Sergei chuckled. “Go on!”

            “But those three Tyrants had one trainer for whatever it was they were supposed to do in Sweden. This guy named Anton. Didn’t talk to him much. I got the feeling he thought poorly of anyone behind a desk.

            “Anyway, Anton kept putting in notes I had to file up the chain that one of the Tyrants was acting, uh, defective.”

            Sergei snorted.

            “Well, that’s what Anton said. I wouldn’t know.” Collin licked at his dry lips, doing little good since the memory had dried his whole mouth out anyways. “I’m in my work space and I get called to the observation deck there to watch this guy. I guess, ah, that intern knew better what was going to happen.”

            If the dark chuckle the Colonel responded with was any indication, he had a good idea what was next as well—as well as about ten things the suspiciously-past-tense-only Anton should not have done…

            “That Tyrant didn’t look off at all, except that it wasn’t listening to Anton. A handler went in to redirect it, started it going through the basic stuff—moving obstacles, testing reflexes with the tennis ball gun, holding still and turning so its Limiter could get adjusted. You know… And this one was, uh… a big one. A head or more over, um…”

            “—Podushka,” the Colonel reminded him of the larger Ivan’s nickname, then nodded for him to carry on.

            “Yes, so, very big. And when the handler went out, this one did fine. More than fine—it was perfect. In fact it acted kinda… um… well—”

            “—Relieved?” Sergei’s expression wasn’t quite a smirk, but it bled both confidence and foreknowledge. Collin had to stare at him, amazed he’d found the exact word.

            “Yes, that’s it! There was no sign at all it would snap, at least at that point. That Tyrant looked positively cool-headed as it worked, so did the handler.”

            “Mm-hm,” Another low cloud of cigar smoke drifted up towards the ornate vent in the ceiling, “And that tells you—just by logic now, no need to know Tyrant training—exactly who was defective?”

            Not the Tyrant,” Collin did not bother to suppress the shiver, “Its fists worked just fine…”

            “And before fists came out? Details, сука!”

            “Well, er, Anton looked pretty annoyed that this newbie handler wasn’t getting the same treatment as him. So he pushed the guy back to the door and said he’d take over the drills.” Collin shrugged. “Next thing anyone knew, that thing was on top of Anton, and then he was not so much Anton as, ah… several pieces.”

            “It sounds to me,” Vladimir again patted Laska, which then evolved into stroking the creature’s entire shoulder and arm, prompting the Ivan to tilt its head heavily down towards the contact, “like this anonymous handler had the Tyrant’s respect. Perhaps enough it considered the handler its master it had to protect. You see now why Anton did not make it, yes?”

            “It… thought Anton was attacking its master?”

            “As surely as anyone going to shove me would feel my Vanyas’ wrath, absolutely. It is one of the finer qualities of any Tyrant—loyalty, and a willingness to put themselves between a threat and the ones they must protect. Even if it brings pain to them—they want to fight—to protect, more than they want to avoid pain.”

            Collin’s voice caught in his throat; he decided he would not mention that the higher-ups had opted to put down the “faulty/insubordinate” Tyrant.

            “Ugh, idiot trainer,” the ex-Soviet grumbled, sucking on the cigar with a more desperate force. “This was not the only such debil you saw at work, eh.”

            “Err… no sir, I would say not, sir.”

            “Serves them right then. Tyrants are truly too good for them.”

            “Um… Sir?”

            “Hm, you know how some say ‘mankind does not deserve dogs’?” Sergei mused, “It is much the same with any beast that has grown to live alongside humans. Such creatures,” Vladimir’s voice went low, “are innocent. They ask for nothing—especially not to be born to serve. There are… situations in our world that let us know that there are Masters, and there are Slaves. Leaders and Followers. It would be the duty of the leader to ensure the needs of the followers, though…” the older man’s brow cinched up, darkening his expression, “This is often not the case. Thus there are Masters and Slaves. While any well-trained guard dog would be fully within its right to attack the Master who beats or starves it, a dog… well, any normal animal doesn’t have the power to remind mankind what we owe it.

            “But a Tyrant,” Sergei’s deep, intimidating voice became full of awe, full of softness where you wouldn’t expect, “A Tyrant had the power. So close to human in form and build and makeup, they wake automatically understanding our words and reading our faces, our voices. And whenever mankind does not deserve a Tyrant, the Tyrant can and will make it known.

“So when a Tyrant obeys you, it is humbling. This beast could so easily destroy every bone in your body, take whatever it needed or wanted, and treat you as nothing… but it does not. It is the ultimate example of serving another, or absolute willingness, and to earn such an unconditional devotion is…” the huge man sighed, “… almost spiritual.”

“…You… care about these two quite a lot, don’t you?”

“Oh, certainly,” the man’s hand had wandered up to the area just behind the Ivan’s ear, and the creature’s fingers curled up involuntarily as it began to grumble with a tone that was as pleased as Collin had ever heard from one of the monsters. Another Tyrant vocalization—a dull groan, almost yearning—sounded from right behind the Colonel’s visitor, and he jumped slightly before remembering Podushka was still looming over his chair. “I have… given up much. Some things I should not have—It was a failure of mine that haunts me, yet it had to be done. But for these two, I can earn back that worth. So long as I am not dead, then I have the trust of my dear Ivans!”

Sergei then squinted at the flinching man, entertained still by his reflexive fright, “Mr. Davies—you have an urgent request waiting, hahah!”

The small man reached a tentative hand up, hoping the Ivan would guide him a bit in exactly where to place it. Podushka growled loudly, but not with any kind of aggression, and soon enough expressed that the thought did count even if the reaching hand was nowhere near it: There was a gentle clonk of the brute’s cranium resting down on the top of Collin’s shaggy mop.

“Um.”

Oh god. He must have looked especially pathetic now, because the ex-Spetsnaz was visibly cracking up at this. Sucking up the two atoms’ worth of courage in his whole body, Collin tucked his upraised hand around and scratched vigorously at the first spot of Tyrant he came in contact with—which ended up being the side of its meaty neck. Podushka pressed into it, blissful grumble vibrating itself, Collin, and the chair he sat in like a revving engine.

“Good, my Vanya, ha! You are lucky, Mr. Davies. These two do not warm up to outsiders like this so easy. Especially not Podushka. He is fiercely protective whenever strangers call.”

“Uh. I… sort of doubt I’m all that dangerous.” The Ivan seemed to concur—if it was even paying much attention, that is. It was currently occupied with nuzzling the side of its broad jaw down into the top of the captive guest’s hair, squeezing the man lower just hard enough that Collins squeaked and gasped sharply, but not hard enough to compress him into an accordion shape, “U-um! Easy—you’re heavy, oof.”

“Podushka, do not break him, eh?” Sergei snickered, and with a low huff through its nostrils the Tyrant released the agent’s head, though still lingered overhead low enough to continue extorting affection from him. “Well, it appears all of the legal nonsense is done. But it is late, yes? You will not be making it back to civilization before dark…”

“Is… that a particular concern around here, Colonel?”

“Hmph, you don’t fear driving forty kilometers in the night on these old backroads, alone? If some debil didn’t want your car, or your money, it would be your kidneys at least.”

“Ah,” Collin’s hand froze mid-scratch, and a puzzled grunt issued from the Tyrant, “I, uh, had a room paid for back in Zinkiv, but I’m not sure getting there sounds appealing.” Reminded of the biomutant’s presence as it bumped itself against him again, Collin startled and gave Podushka three final pats before retrieving his hand, “A-are you sure these, uh, your Ivans would be safe to be around for that long? As an outsider?”

“Merely overnight,” Sergei chuckled and shook his head, “If their master gives the word, they will leave you be. Even without my orders, you’d be fine. Don’t do anything foolish, and you are better off taking your chances with the Tyrants than the… locals,” he sniffed.

“Well, I… thank you for the, ah, hospitality. It’s quite unexpected in my line of work.”

“Not a problem,” Vladimir shook his head more forcefully, “We are in this work together, hm? Come, I will show you the guest room. Soon is dinner—that is, if you do not mind local commoner fare.” He chuckled darkly, “And sharing it with Tyrants.”

“Eheh… So long as no one bites my hand off I should manage.”

#resident evil #re #fanfic #fanfiction #resident evil outbreak #resident evil umbrella files #Ivan Tyrants #tyrant #b.o.w. #Sergei Vladimir #Ivan twins #Umbrella corp #as narsty as Col. Vladimir can be he knows Tyrants #a lovely ole super-flawed dude of a character who you at least know is competent

[cosmcqt]

Fearful promises: Ch.1

Tw: Descriptions of violence, blood, death

“Hello?” you called out, scanning the area from head to toe. Closing the large doors shut, you called out once more “Anyone here? Hello?” 

No response. Taking in the appearance of the run-down police station with its weak barricades, blood smeared on the floor, as well as no one appearing in your sight. Beginning to lose hope, you noticed what seems to be a laptop behind the front desk. “Here’s something” You muttered with a tiny bit of relief, walking towards it. 

You began to click through the cameras that appeared on the screen, each one of them mostly showing the walking corpses that you had encountered on your way here. “There’s nothing so far” muttering to yourself while scanning through the video footage hoping to find any form of human life.

 Scanning over the same pieces of footage over and over, you began to lose hope, aware of the fact the footage you were repeatedly viewing was from cameras spread everywhere throughout the police station. The knowledge you had gained was from Miles himself as he had been working at the station ever since you moved into Raccoon City. 

Remembering your deceased friend, you had given up on your search through the cameras as all the memories of Miles and Jill resurfaced to your thoughts, failing to notice the figure purposefully hiding underneath the fire escape stairs on the corner of the screen. 

Walking towards the middle of the main hall, dropping yourself on the blood-stained couch unaware of the blood seeming to be fresh. Tossing your bag to the ground, while holding a firm grip to your handgun.

Closing your eyes, beginning to remember his smile, falsely reassuring you of his safety regarding the scavenging of information he had been pursuing to take down the umbrella corporation. You knew the cooperation and the power they held within the city. Miles had mentioned brief details of his mission at the Spencer mansion, only to conclude that the umbrella was the leading cause. 

______________________________________

“Don’t worry Y/N, I’ll be fine” wearing his beige police academy t-shirt and plaid pajama pants he continued to pour his 4th cup of caffeine for the start of a late night  “Like I said, Jill and I are almost there, we just need to keep digging” He assured, taking a sip of the hot liquid.

You stared at him, noticing the strained smile he forced himself to keep in front of you. Ever since you had met him, he would hide the troubles he bore behind a smile. Many were convinced, except you. 

“Bullshit, we both know what’s going to happen if you continue this, I just need to know Miles, please I need to know you’ll be okay” You begged, standing up from his leather couch inching closer to him. “I don’t care about anything else, except you” Admitting softly, staring into his chestnut brown eyes that reflected the same pain as yours.

 There was a silent tension that the two held as you both didn’t know what to say, establishing the differences in what you individually believed knowing they were going to remain as they were. Realizing he wasn’t going to change his mind. 

He was aware of your advances when leaning closer to him, loosely wrapping your arms around his neck. Almost wanting to give in, a part of him begged him to stop this search until he remembered the horrid trauma he had experienced back at the mansion while staring into your pleading eyes. The thought of those dangers ever surfacing in your life was more than enough motivation to put an end to the huge cooperation. He softly tore your arms apart from his neck and silently shook his head.

 “I’m sorry Y/N, you can’t change my mind” He quietly answered, his dark eyes staring into your own, turning away you stepped away from him. “Okay” You nodded, looking away from him. “Just please… be safe Miles” You pleaded, he smiled. “I will Y/N,I can’t just leave you alone. Who else is going to be your babysitter” He lightly chuckled, forcing a smile you shook your head with a scoff.

  “Yeah right, if anyone’s the babysitter, it's me” You responded earning a light hum from the man. Hearing the convo between the two didn’t feel the same as before. He didn’t sound the same, he was exhausted mentally and physically. You decided to place your feelings on the matter aside, hesitantly allowing him to proceed with his search. Unaware that this encounter was going to be the last. 

Hearing a loud crash, a sudden explosion appeared at the front door. The two quickly focused their attention towards the door to see a huge creature appear. The creature was gigantic and horrid all at once. Struck in fear, unable to move you heard the sounds of guns clicking in place. 

“Y/N! Get out of here now!” Miles shouted, appearing with his own weapon pulling the trigger repeatedly towards the horrendous monster. You snapped out of your racing thoughts once the thing had averted its attention to the man beside you. Screeching loudly it expanded its tentacle to aim towards Miles. 

“Not without you!” You screamed, quickly grabbing the closest object you could grab a hold of, a lamp. Throwing the lamp at the thing, it roared in response although it continued to keep its attention to Miles. “STAAARS” it screeched out. Miles continued on shooting the creature while distancing himself from you

 “Dammit! it’s not saf-” Quickly being cut off by an intense feeling in his chest making him stop all at once. Looking down, he found the tentacle of the creature to brutally strike through him. The shock he felt began to blur the screams of the one he loved the most while slowly releasing the grip he had on his gun. 

“MILES” The woman screamed, you felt your world shatter as the creature withdrew its tentacle causing the man to drop to the floor. The creature forced its attention to you until a sudden noise alerted the creature causing it to leave the destroyed complex in a haste, as if someone it wanted had just arrived. Unbeknownst to it that it’s target was heading towards the apartment. 

Frantically rushing to Mile’s limp body, holding him in your arms. “Hey Miles, look at me hey!” Calling out to the man as his eyes began to slowly droop. His body slowly breathing, “We’re not going to do this Miles, not today, not ever wake up!” you hissed, feeling the blood bleed through his t-shirt. Stroking his cheek, tears began to fall as you clenched his hand. “Miles stay awake for me, please..” 

 Curling your head to his neck you cried. Feeling a light squeeze from the man, quickly raising your head to see him attempt to keep his eyes open as he coughed out blood. “Y/N….” He croaked, shivering from his body feeling cold. You held him closer at an attempt to create warmth, not caring if the room itself was beginning to burn. “Hey, hey stay awake for me please” You cried, focusing on Miles and as everything quickly grew in flames from the explosion. Unaware of a mysterious figure appearing at the scene. “Y/N…I need…you to stay alive..” His voice was low enough for just you to hear him. Shaking your head in response, he continued hesitantly “I never got to thank you…for being my reason to keep living” 

Staring at the ceiling, memories began to flood in his head as he began to remember the moments he’s had with Y/n. From when they first met, to their happiest moments. “No…no….” Denying his words, unable to phantom the way he’s basically leaving you for good. 

“I love you” He said, grasping your hand with all the strength he could muster while staring into the eyes that bore into his own. Unable to respond right away, you quietly responded “I love you too Miles”, He smiled softly pushing the hair behind your ear to get a better look of you with his tired eyes that had threatened to close any moment. Until a gunshot was forced into the man’s forehead, immediately causing him to go limp. 

 Eyes widened, mouth running dry, you blankly stared at Miles in a newfound horror. Panic began to rise in your veins while focusing your attention on to your dear friend with tears streaming through your eyes. Not even wanting to try to see the person who shot Miles, from the corner of your eye a broken mirror had reflected the mysterious figure for them to have the build of a man. Seeing him raise his gun towards you next, anger had entered its way within your body as you grabbed the gun beside Miles getting ready to attack the figure until a scream was heard in the distance, a familiar voice calling out for Miles. 

Seeming as the voice began to grow closer all the while the undead began to finally break its way into the apartment, the mysterious figure reluctantly evacuated the area leaving Y/N to be found by Mile’s former comrade. 

“Miles!!” Jill rushed in, gun in hand as she shot the dead creatures away from entrance only to become aware of the situation, seeing Y/n huddled next to his corpse. 

________________________________

Opening you eyes, daring not to fall asleep as you had begun to reminisce about the horrors of the day before. Shaking your head from those thoughts, you knew there was no time for grieving. Jill was out there, not on her own but with that horrid creature following her every move.  You needed to do something and not coward in fear while Jill is sacrificing herself. Like she said, Miles wouldn’t want that. 

“Fuck” you mumbled, at a loss of what to proceed with next. Unaware of the figure quietly creeping behind you. Sitting up and clicking you gun back into place. Suddenly the click of a barrel alerted you from behind. 

  “Hands up” a voice called out. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Hihi! Welcome, hope you liked this chapter. I still need to proof read it so their might be some grammar errors T.T For it being chapter one, I wanted to base it around the reader but yes Leon will be introduced....very soon lolol 

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #resident evil 2 #x reader #Female reader #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader

[davekat-sucks]

If you ever have to answer any more asks on the Lalonders situation they responded to LibsofTiktok. I can’t link the thread because I quit Twitter.

But I can read the thread online, to sum it up, Lalonders wanted to hire a team that best reflected the chracters and writing for Validate, and since Validate is a game about queer people of color Lalonders decided to hire people she saw as best fit for the team.

She did hire some white people for work on validate. Their numbers and position is not specified.

She also talks about micro-aggressions and she wanted a sage environment for workers on the team for Validate, and addresses microaggressions are not isolated to any group or committed by one group.

Her current work at Cliffhanger and the Black Panther game is as Junior Associate Narrative designer, she is not someone who hires, but rather writes the story.

The video clip was also released before her work at Cliffhanger.

Mainly I want to share this information to keep facts straight, and also because I am not participating nor allowing the manifestation of “Gamergate 2.0” because not only is the movement blowing the impact of one consultant company’s reach over the gaming industry to exaggerated proportions, but it’s based on he said she said mob mentality, it’s anti-woke cancel culture.

Also do take my presentation with a bit of salt, I also think Gamergate Classic was bullshit and that Zoe Quinn and Anita Sarkeesian did nothing wrong and were unfairly slandered by angry nerds online who didn’t read or want to analyze any of the previously mentioned people’s material, and just share clips out of context that make them sound more outrageous than they actually are.

Anyway, have a good day.

Found the OP and other post. It's funny to think about not having white people on the team despite claims of only POC people. They aren't any better than big corporations who also do this claim every June. And I dunno. I don't trust bitches like Zoe Quinn or Anita Sarkesian. But is funny to think about the girl who helped with Homestuck with the same surname as one of the characters, is put under the same umbrella as the bitch who fucked with 5 guys. And if you wanna hear more Dani's bad takes about Homestuck and her views on Roxy, check out episode 24 on Perfectly Generic Podcast. You'll wonder why you and I wasted 1 hour of your time.

#Sweet Baby Inc #Dani Lalonders #Dani Lalonde #Dani Lalonder #Perfectly Generic Podcast #PGP #PGenpod #Twitter #X #Twitter X #X Twitter

[every-character-ever-poll]

WEEK THREE LINEUP

Well! That was fun, wasn't it? I've changed the formatting of the polls, as well as closed down the submissions form (for now). This week will also have 100 polls, the first 14 of which will be posted tomorrow (Sunday the 30th). And.... I think those are the only important things to mention! So without further ado, here is this week's lineup.

Buneary - Pokémon

Anita - West Side Story

Beverly Marsh - IT

Monoma Neito - My Hero Academia

Sister Carpenter - The Silt Verses

Ekko - Arcane

Veronica Sawyer - Heathers (the film)

Bakugo Katsuki - My Hero Academia

Betty Boop - 1920-40s cartoons

Flowey the Flower - Undertale

Akito Shinonome - Project Sekai: Colorful Stage!

Lady - Devil May Cry

Diamond Heart - Magical Warrior Diamond Heart

Emma - Emma

Aion - Show by Rock

Hibana - Fire Force

Klunk - Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Kosmo (Space Wolf) - Voltron: Legendary Defender

Evelyn Hugo - The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo

Antigone Funn - Wooden Overcoats

Oswald Cobblepot - Gotham

Emu Otori - Project Sekai: Colorful Stage!

Toon Patrol - Who Framed Roger Rabbit?

Felix - Golden Sun

Urotsuki - Yume 2kki

Kano - Kagerou Project

Ayano Tateyama - Kagerou Project

Fin Fin - Fin Fin on Teo the Magic Planet

Gladion - Pokémon Sun and Moon

Dmitri - Fire Emblem 3 Houses

Hippeaux - Animal Crossing

Raymond - Animal Crossing

Crewmate - Among Us

Sara Chidouin - Your Turn To Die

Zhongli - Genshin Impact

Firestar - Warrior Cats

Dovewing - Warrior Cats

Flourette - Answered Prayers

Eleanor Forte - SynthV

Cisqua - Elemental Gelade

Renarin Kholin - The Stormlight Archive

Roy Mustang - Fullmetal Alchemist

Alex Chen - Life is Strange: True Colors

Steffi Frohlich - Kiwi Blitz

Belos/Phillip Wittebane - The Owl House

Dr. Coomer - Half-Life VR but the AI is Self Aware

Olivia - Paper Mario: The Origami King

The Riddler - Batman: the Animated Series

Togata Mirio/Lemillion - My Hero Academia

Mustache Girl - A Hat in Time

Maika Halfwolf - Monstress Comic

Ren Mormorian - Monstress Comic

Shokry - Shubeik Lubeik

Hagga/Teeta Shawqia - Shubeik Lubeik

Wikipe-tan - Wikipedia

Ymir - Attack on Titan

Alicia Copeland - Wierd And Unfortunate Things Are Happening

Wen Kexing - Word of Honor

Garalia Nyamhee - Aura Battler Dunbine

Xena - Xena: Warrior Princess

Nuriko - Fushigi Yuugi

Neko Musume - Gegege no Kitaro

Tillman Henderson - Blaseball

Dr Boris Habit - Smile For Me

Mallow - Super Mario RPG

Vriska Serket - Homestuck

Lussa - The Undrowned Child

Mary - BBC Ghosts

Bagpuss - Bagpuss

Tara Mclay - Buffy the Vampire Slayer

The Worm - Labyrinth

Lydia Deetz - Beetlejuice

Wander - Wander Over Yonder

Noelle - Deltarune

Momotaros - Kamen Rider Den-O

Scorpion King - Word of Honor

Por - My School President

The Eleventh Doctor - Doctor Who

Dr. Doofenshmirtz - Phineas and Ferb

Perry the Platypus - Phineas and Ferb

Agent P - Phineas and Ferb

Alexa - Xenoblade Chronicles X

Lara Croft - Tomb Raider (Survivor timeline)

Faith Connors - Mirror's edge

Furuta Nimura/Kichimura Washuu/Souta - Tokyo Ghoul: re

John Egbert - Homestuck

Rose Red - Ghost Quartet

Bruce J. Speed - Ginga Tetsudou Monogatari

Elma - Xenoblade Chronicles x

Adam - Lobotomy Corporation

Ianite - Mianite

Five Hargreeves - The Umbrella Academy

Willow Park - The Owl House

Black Hat - Villainous

Katalina Alize - Granblue Fantasy

Naomi Armitage - Armitage the Third

Kanade Yoisaki - Project Sekai

Sei Iori - Gundam Build Fighters

Goro Majima - Yakuza/Like A Dragon

Albert Wesker - Resident Evil

Blacknose - Pinepaw and the Forgotten World

Please remember that, based on the results of the poll I put up earlier, Luna Lovegood from Harry Potter may be included. Her spot would be near the very end, on the last day. As I always tag polls with both the character and the media they are from, if she does get in but you would not like to see the poll, the tags will be blockable.

No matter the outcome, please be courteous as possible to one another, and if that is not possible, then please just block and move on.

#the week ahead #not a poll #mod seven #ooh boy discourse time I guess. anyways #you may be asking yourself: mod. why did you put perry the platypus and agent p as separate entries? #and to that i say: twas for the bit #they were submitted like that and I thought it was hilarious

[winksasleeplesseye]

File #006 - Lachesism

lachesism: n. the desire to be struck by disaster.

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x OC

Word Count: 5.3k

Warning: a small mention of blood

Summary: Amara, Leon, and Ada venture further into the city to stop whoever is behind this mess. Chaos in the sewers is a bit of an understatement with Amara finding her determination a bit shaken but finding a good reminder in Leon. She also meets another familiar face and returns to a momentary flashback to before all this occurred.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

“Heard of the Umbrella corporation?” Ada asks, Leon trails behind, sticking close to Amara as they traverse the scaffoldings. “Pharmaceutical company making bioweapons.”

Amara brought him up to speed earlier, so he’s confident in his answer. “More or less.” 

Leon looks over at Amara, hoping maybe she can add to the conversation, but she has a faraway look in her eyes. Her mind is clearly elsewhere and he wishes he could offer some comfort but they had to keep moving. 

“They have a virus–it turns people into indestructible monsters.” She explains. 

Being decidedly forward, he reaches for her hand, finding that she locks their fingers together without hesitation. This seems to bring life back to her. Were things moving too fast? Leon hadn’t known this woman for a day, yet he was already unable to think about losing her. He wanted to chalk it up to already having lost Marvin and the colleagues he never got to know, or maybe being alone altogether but something would feel off if he didn’t have Amara by his side.

Leon had never really told anyone about that night so long ago, yet he divulged Amara in that small detail so easily. He usually shrugged it off or omitted it when anyone asked because he didn’t want to just dump his problems on someone else, it seemed impolite. What made her so different that he felt comfortable telling her that? A part of him maybe recognized that she had been through a lot.

A kindred soul recognized another, perhaps?

He so often focused on the present, he didn’t deem it necessary to reflect on the past.

What good is there in that? 

And anyway, just getting out of the city took priority right now. Over his thoughts, over his feelings, they’re on a mission. The situation with the shop owner Kendo, whom Amara knew it seems, set off even more of that determination in Leon. 

What right did Umbrella have to hurt innocent people?

Despite his prior words, his mind takes him back to Marvin, Kendo, and now Amara. Small examples of the bigger enemy. 

“That’s why I’m looking for Annette Birkin…” Ada says. “She’s the one at Umbrella responsible for unleashing the virus.” 

“According to HQ, the sewers lead right to their secret facility.”

Amara lets out a humorless laugh. “Shitty sewers, shitty people, that checks out.” 

Ada steps aside at the entrance of a tunnel, letting Amara go first. “After you.”

Leon is reluctant to let go of her hand but does so anyway. 

“How nice.” Amara gives her a crooked smile that seems sickly sweet, but her eyes tell Leon otherwise. He lets Ada go ahead, now becoming the one who is behind. 

“Sewers are run by the city, how could they have a secret facility without authorities knowing?” He asks, still trying to wrap his head around it all. 

The tunnel was larger than he expected, still curved in a circular shape that all but encouraged claustrophobia. The only light came from the dingy lights built within the curvature of the tunnel. Something about the state of workmen’s helmets and other small items lying about disturbed him a tad. He couldn’t imagine how frightening it had been at the outbreak’s start. 

“Welcome to corporate America. Umbrella has controlled Raccoon City for years.” Ada said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Venturing further in, the air starts to become a bit damp, no doubt alerting all of them that water was nearby and…yeah, that’s not a pleasant smell. In fact, it smelled like shit. Fantastic. 

Leon hangs back a bit, Amara glances back and seems to be the only one to notice. Their gazes met, her hardened expression softening as she approached.

“You hanging in there, handsome?” She gave him an even softer smile and he couldn't help but give her one in return, a slight warmth coming to his cheeks, he’d be kidding himself that it wasn’t because of the slight stroke to his ego. 

It wasn’t that he wasn’t aware of his looks, but the observation seemed to catch him off guard. It probably always would. He kind of considered himself the latest of late bloomers when it came to things like this.

“Yeah, just been a long night is all.” He sighed and Amara gave him a “you have no idea” look. 

“Not exactly how you imagined your first day, huh?”

Leon rolled his eyes, “Tell me ab-“

The ground shook violently. Leon grabbed Amara’s arm to steady her. Jesus, what the hell is going on down here?

“S-shit, tell me that was an earthquake?” She asked. He had to admit it rattled his nerves a tad, but if he learned anything from the academy, it was that keeping a cool head was life and death in the field. Of course, they weren’t talking about the living dead and evil corporations, but Leon guessed the same could be applied here in a strange way. 

“I hope so, let’s keep moving.”

-------

“Leon! Up here!” Amara yells, kicking down the ladder so he could escape the large, grotesque guts of the alligator he’d just blown up. A crazy sentence to even be said but with the way this evening is going, is anything a surprise anymore? Amara was aware that the virus would turn people into monsters, but certainly not fucking reptiles. 

Amara loves animals of all sorts, just not mutated ones that wanted to kill people. 

God only knew what else Umbrella had in store in their facility. Amara shudders, not really wanting to find out.

Amara felt like such a fraud. She’d been going through a tad bit of imposter syndrome since this all started, usually, nothing could shake her confidence but a part of her felt like this situation is bigger than any of them knows and that made her less confident in taking Umbrella down. 

Could that even be done?

Leon thinks she’s some cool, brave operative but underneath, she felt like a little girl playing pretend. Not that she had anything to prove to anyone, especially to Leon. But his eagerness, his determination, and everything about him made her want to keep going and see this through to the end, no matter what happened. 

“I’m surprised you made it in one piece, rookie.” Ada comments, her voice tinged with something other than its usual iciness. 

Amara gestures her head in Ada’s direction. “I second that, Kennedy.” 

“Would’ve loved a fair warning that reptiles are turning into monsters too,” Leon rolled his eyes, and the squelch of water seeped into his boots emphasized his footsteps even more. They all huddle into a convenient elevator, heading deeper in this place. “So, let me get this straight, Umbrella is selling monsters like that to who? Our military? Somebody else’s?” 

“Umbrella doesn’t make the monsters, they make the viruses that create those,” Ada explained, “I’m after Annette Birkin, she’s the one at Umbrella responsible for all this. As dangerous as that alligator was, she’s far more dangerous.” 

Amara wanted to scoff at her words but held back. One woman couldn’t possibly have done all of this. 

Well, no.

She takes that back.

Sort of. 

She’d seen women in her life be responsible for much less in terms of messes. Of course, those were more so small occurrences, small as in drama over liking the same guy, not exactly on the scale of causing a virus outbreak. 

“Considering what all has occurred? I can somewhat believe that.” 

Stepping out of the elevator, they head straight for the nearest door. Leon steps ahead of them, raising his gun to someone bent over a corpse. “Identify yourself.” 

The woman doesn’t seem to even register that Leon has said anything to her, mumbling incoherently about something as she looks over a body. Amara comes to the logical conclusion that this is Annette Birkin.

As if the lab coat didn’t give it away.

“Annette Birkin,” Amara calls, raising her gun up as well. “You’re just the woman we wanted to see.” 

Annette, for all the talk Ada had about her, looks unassuming. If Amara didn’t know better, she’d think this woman really couldn’t hurt a fly. 

“You,” Annette looks at Amara, an uneasiness in her voice. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“What?” The next sequence of events happened so quick, Amara still isn't sure if she'd ever make sense of it.

Ada cuts in, “We’re here for G.” 

Annette looks at her, an underlying expression of recognition but Amara isn’t sure. She scoffs at her words, “What you’re here for is of no importance to me because you’ll never get G.” 

“I’m warning you, Doctor.” Ada advances forward. 

“Oh, yeah?” With a quick flick of a lighter, flames went alight on the body, like Annette’s own version of a magician’s trick. In the momentary distraction, the woman ran the other direction but Amara had to know why she didn’t want her looking for G. 

Her mind whirled.

Before she could really stop herself, she rushed past Ada and Leon. “Wait!”

The pipes near her echoed as something hit them. Bullets. The least logical part of her brain made her freeze where she stood as more bullets came her way, only miraculously being taken out of the way by a heavy force. Leon. 

Amara finally regained some sense and immediately rose to her knees, sending returning fire to Annette but the door she went through closed quicker than expected so the shots barely hit her, just the walls. 

Damn it. 

Leon grunts in pain at her knees, blood gushing from a wound in his shoulder, the faint smell of it hitting her nose. Her heart drops to her stomach at the realization. 

“Shit, Leon!” Amara jumps into action, pressing down to hopefully stop the bleeding, but still, it gushes between her fingers, staining them. 

“Guess I can say goodbye to tank tops, right?” Leon strains, biting back a groan of pain. He wears an almost stupid grin despite having just been shot. 

Amara chuckles, still trying to get the bleeding to stop. "That mouth of yours, talking dumb shit even now?” 

She turns on Ada fiercely, an annoyed sneer on her face. “Don’t just stand there!” 

Ada’s eyes flitted between the scene in front of her and where Annette had just run off to, clearly seeming conflicted on where her priorities lie. 

Amara rolls her eyes, “Forget it, just go after her, I’ve got this handled!” 

She quickly removes her trench coat, placing it underneath Leon’s head as a makeshift pillow but not before saying “Take care of him.” 

She’s gone just as quickly. 

--------

After their brief encounter, Amara turned her attention back to Leon, sitting him up against the wall to get a better look at the wound. 

Tending to the wound took precedence over whatever feelings she had about Ada. Call her crazy, but she could spot bullshit from a mile away. And she was full of it, but she had no proof yet. But Annette seemed to have that proof but she’d run off, clearly not wanting to be engaged in conversation after burning a body. And yeah, almost killing Amara. 

But, something else about the look Annette gave her, almost like she’d seen a ghost standing before her. What the hell was that about? 

Amara runs her fingers over the material of his vest and shirt underneath. Her other hand lightly pressed the other side of his shoulder, hoping to find an exit wound. There wasn’t one. 

Annette had a hell of a shot for a scientist. 

She’s briefly stricken by guilt, that bullet was meant for her after all. Now Leon was suffering the consequences instead. Gently, she removes his kevlar vest and his buttoned-up shirt. She cuts through the sleeve of his uniform with his own knife, tossing the fabric to the ground. Trying not to look at more of the arm muscles revealed to her. 

Upon further inspection, the wound doesn’t look as bad as it must feel embedded in his shoulder.

She briefly checks his pulse, it’s still pretty strong, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. Amara reached out and took his hand in hers for a moment, entwining their fingers together. He more than likely passed out from the shock rather than anything else, something about that fact relieves her more than anything. 

“I’m sorry, Leon.” She apologizes like she had been the one to shoot him. She’s not even sure he can hear her but somehow she hopes he does.  

She pulls out gauze and antiseptic from her hip pouch, God knows he’d need the antiseptic with all the shittastic things they’d been encountering. The last thing he’d need is to go into septic shock alongside dealing with zombies.

Just as Amara began the process of placing firm pressure against the wound, did Leon stir briefly, his eyes fluttering open for a few seconds before closing again in exhaustion. He fought with everything it seemed to open them again. 

"Hey, don't worry about me," he mumbled, his voice hoarse from pain. "You need to go after Annette. Stop her before it's too late."

Amara frowned, not wanting to leave Leon behind. 

"I can't just leave you here, Leon," she protested, wrapping gauze tightly around his shoulder to keep an even pressure going on the wound. 

Leon shook his head weakly. "I'II be fine," he said. "But you need to go after her. She's dangerous, and she's got something we need."

Damn, she hates to admit he’s right. Who knows what Ada could be doing? Amara certainly had her own questions for the woman.

Amara hesitated, torn between her duty and her concern for Leon. But in the end, she knew what she had to do. "Okay," she said, her voice firm. "I'II go after her. But you need to stay put and rest. I'll be back as soon as I can."

She redresses Leon with just the blue button-up of his uniform and the vest. 

As she stood up and started to make her way toward the direction Ada went, Leon's hand shot out weakly and grabbed hers. 

"A-Amara," he said, his eyes meeting hers. "I care about you. You know that, right?"

Amara's heart skipped a beat at the words, but she forced herself to stay calm.

"I know," she said softly. "But we don't have time for this right now, Leon. You need to rest."

Leon nodded, his grip on her hand slackening.

"Just promise me you'll be careful," he said. "I don't want to lose you.”

Amara swallowed, feeling a lump rise in her throat. 

"I'II be careful," she promised. "And I'II come back for you.”

As she left the room, her mind raced with thoughts of Leon and how this night just kept getting worse. But she pushed them aside, focusing instead on the task at hand. She would go after Annette, no matter what it took. And then she would come back for Leon, just like she promised.

Still, she couldn’t help but spare one more look back from where she came from. Where Leon is, likely blissfully unconscious once more.

Probably not the brightest idea to split up, is it? 

“Focus, Amara.” She pushed her hair back, finding it a bit tangled. She checked her weapons as she walked through what was an abnormally large tunnel, finding roaches crawling all over it. Gross.

Amara had never been one to jump at shadows, but even the slightest sound in this place echoed in a way that had her shoulders tense. It didn’t help that everything in this place is iron and PVC, two things that even slightly brushed against made an echo. 

She’d seen the horror movies, and she and Monet would laugh a bit at the characters for even entertaining the thought of going on their own..it’s how they usually got hurt or killed, especially the Black ones. 

The sooner I get to question Annette and get to this damn lab, the better.

Now, here she was, following Ada’s trail to Annette, hopeful for answers about this mess.

Well, hopeful is a stretch. Cautiously optimistic. 

At least Ada had the decency to clear the path ahead, judging by the zombies strewed about. But, Amara still kept her sense about her to step over the corpses carefully.  “Stay the fuck down.”

Amara didn’t fancy herself a cynic. Cynicism was way too easy, she’d learned that early. 

Despite the circumstances–hers especially, as of late, never once did she blame the world and say this is how it is. Things could be different. 

For some reason, her mind went to her grandmother on her mother’s side. During their sporadic visits to her, Amara could never recall her not without a smile, always with a kind word and an even more generous purse. She grew up during worse times, but Amara had tidbits of memories with a younger version of herself sitting at her legs as she regaled stories of being a spy during WW2. 

She’d proudly displayed the black and white pictures over her fireplace, alongside pictures of her and her grandfather in their younger days. 

Her grandmother had seen it all, the nitty gritty and ugliness of war under covert operations, yet never turned her back on others the way Amara had seen from her mother–who so often withdrew from the world. Her father was a different story altogether that she didn’t care to dwell on.

“Idealism–faith in humanity–optimism–is the most difficult thing in the entire world, Mara.” Her grandmother explained, “It is a constant struggle even for me to have all of that, it’s hard work but you have to see the beauty in it all in your day-to-day life.” 

She hadn’t understood then, but as she got older, she slowly came to understand and held that sentiment close to her. Amara could only hope that she would be proud after all this is over. She had faith that there were good people not directly involved at the end of this who want Umbrella taken down just as much as she does. 

Beyond having faith, she had an obligation to keep going. For Enrico, Edward, Forest, Kenneth, and Richard. The whole city. 

-----

The sewer facility, much like the police department, was a modern yet unconventional, piece of architecture. Lots of odd layouts and…puzzles. Amara shook her head, looking over the memo on the board for what seemed the key to aligning the chess power pieces but not all of them were there. 

Of course, they never want to make finding these pieces easy, do they?

She needed to save Ada’s sorry ass from inside the piles of trash within the facility. Taking the memo with her, Amara navigated the facility as best she could without a map. Suddenly, there was a faint rustling in the distance and she instinctively drew her weapon, ready for any potential danger.

Rounding the corner, Amara's eyes met those of a young woman, also armed and appearing just as wary. The woman's auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her face was smeared with dirt and grime, but Amara recognized her from the S.T.A.R.S. files. 

Chris’ sister, who’s in college, Amara recalls that he’d talk about her fondly. Outside of his clear passion for hitting the weights, she had to be his next one, and it showed. She’d occasionally liked to mess with him, calling him a hardass (amongst other things), but kept it minimum just because she secretly knew that he was a softie for family. 

"Claire," Amara stated, lowering her weapon slightly. "What are you doing down here?"

Claire quickly explained her mission to find a little girl named Sherry Birkin, and Amara nodded in understanding. "I'm looking for a way out of this place myself," she said. "Maybe we can help each other."

“Maybe, but first, I have to ask, why did you come here?” Amara doesn’t mean to come off as rude, but it’s only logical to ask why anyone came to this hellhole willingly.

“Looking for Chris originally, have you heard anything?”

“Afraid not, did you get the letter he left?” Amara only knew about it because before everything went to shit, she did notice the envelope on his desk in his god awful chicken scratch handwriting addressed to Claire but never dreamed of invading his privacy. 

She chuckled a bit. “Sounded too goofy to be him.”

“That sounds about right for him.” Amara joined in. “He’s better in person than on the page.” 

Claire scoffs, raising a brow, “You’ve talked to him for more than an hour?” 

Once, Chris decided to experiment in the RPD break room with a particular concoction that he claimed would make him soup the easy way, the faster way. His easier way entailed throwing together ingredients that usually were in soup (tomato, milk, basil, and some veggies) and just blending them at the station. 

He decided to use the community blender…and to cut the story short, Chicken-Heart Vickers was no longer the only one with a stupid nickname around the office. 

The memory comes to Amara’s mind, only because she was the one to help clean it up afterward. The break room smelled of ketchup and spoiled milk for about a week after that.

“He’s got the heart, but definitely not the brain cells.” They share another laugh before continuing on. 

------

July 20, 1998.

Amara could hear the sounds of voices and faint music coming from the S.T.A.R.S. office, the music sounded vaguely like the CD she left at Jill’s desk…Spice Girls. That made her smile a bit. She rushed to down the coffee she just got from the break room before their meeting. The granules of sugar seeped at the bottom leaving an overly sweet taste in her mouth with the last sip. 

The meeting is going to be the same for the most part– Captain Wesker went through updates in their cases, the next steps, then Q&A and it was heavy on the Qs and light on the As. 

Amara never really had many questions for Wesker, he explained things in a manner she understood and anyways, she was set to leave for vacation tomorrow so it’s not like she could contribute much help. Well, that’s a lie. There’s always paperwork. 

If I wanted to file paperwork, I would’ve gotten a damn desk job. 

Barry, Forest, and Brad stood near Amara’s desk, deep in conversation while her eyes scanned the room briefly from the office entrance. 

Wesker sat with his feet propped up on his desk as Chief Irons, a slimeball in human form, spoke to him inside the former’s office. 

Amara had no clue what Irons could need or talk to him about now, he already rode their asses about this current case they were working on, but even behind his shades, she knew he wasn’t interested in the slightest. 

He seemed to always be above it all, like nothing involving the team ever really bothered or mattered to him. But, at the same time, he seemed to care. It was an odd conundrum. 

“Well, well, well, look who decided to show up,” Forest has a grin a mile wide on his tanned, boyish face. “Good morning, sunshine!” 

His Alabama twang brought a certain liveliness to the greeting. 

She smiled in return. “Morning, fellas, mind moving a bit from my desk?”

“Anything for Miss Amara!” Brad mimics Forest’s twang.

“Shut up,” she laughs lightly, pushing between them and plopping down in her desk chair. “So, what’s the hot topic today? Another granny with a cat up a tree? A streaker? What?” 

Barry wears a brief smile, “Just reminding these two to refresh their memory for some of this town’s history.”

“Do tell, love to hear stories from when dinosaurs roamed this place.”

Brad and Forest laugh harder than expected and Barry could only scowl but Amara could tell it was good-natured. 

Barry had been there a bit longer than she had so it was safe to say he was a seasoned veteran. He endured way worse jokes from Chris on a good day. It had taken her only a few weeks after her first day to start the ribbing that the others had taken part in quite frequently, now it was pretty commonplace. Not a normal day if she didn’t get one in. 

“Hardy har har, anyways, I was telling them about the Spencer family and the house out there.” 

“Spencer?” Amara certainly had never heard that name before. She wasn’t exactly well versed in all that Raccoon City had to offer. For all the books she’d accumulated on her desk next to her, what had become her new hometown ranked bottom in the interest of reading about it. 

At least this would be an enriching conversation, for once. 

“Uh huh, the house was designed by a man named George Trevor, way before you were a thought in your parents’ heads. In 1967.”

Amara scoffs. “And where is it exactly? If this is such a place of Raccoon history, why can’t us regular people go see it?”

“In the Arklay mountains. And that’s the thing, a weird thing happened with Trevor and he disappeared.”

Her ears certainly perked up at that. “Disappeared?” 

“This is the fun part, ‘Mara.” Brad taps her shoulder briefly, a smirk plastered on his face, though it doesn’t seem in jest, more annoyance. Clearly, she hadn’t been here for his fascinating retellings before. 

Barry ignored Brad, continuing on. “Yeah, he’s probably why no one has ever been there. Trevor went crazy during construction and when it was finished, he got lost and wandered the halls until he starved to death.” 

“You can still hear his groans and moans as he wanders the halls, searching for his next meal!” Forest added, wiggling his fingers for effect. 

“Bullshit.” Brad rolled his eyes but looked uneasy. He certainly lived up to his nickname, even the measly mention of this supposed history had him quaking in his boots.

Amara squints, puckering her lips as if she sucked on a lemon as she sweeps her gaze over to Forest, noticing he winks at her. Ah, so this story might actually be bullshit. She knew that she was the kind of person to be fascinated by the woo woo as Chris once mockingly called it, but even she could live based on facts for the most part and this story had all the makings of…well, straight bullshit.

“Barry, are you telling that stupid ghost story again?” Jill saunters in, a shake in her head and a pep in her step. 

Amara breathes a sigh of relief, “Oh, thank god you’re here, being the lone taco in this sausage party is beginning to blow.” 

The men all disperse, rolling their eyes or chucking quietly. 

“How ya doin’ Cutie?” Jill jokingly sits down directly in Amara’s lap to crush her, but she takes it as an opportunity to hug her, placing her head against her back. If anyone else had called her cutie, she’d hate it but from Jill? She couldn’t hate it if she tried. 

Jill had been one of the first members of the team to welcome her with open arms, well only after Amara had her own clumsy first encounter spilling coffee on the front of Jill’s uniform. 

They started chatting while she cleaned up her shirt and Amara learned of her secret, not-so-secret love of pop music (boy bands and what have you) amongst other things. They’d been friends ever since. 

“Pretty good, except all the shit I have to pack tonight,” she frowns, the piles left on her bed at home still needed to be thrown into her suitcase. Jill had since moved to sit on the edge of her desk, careful not to knock over her neatly stacked books. 

“Damn, how did I forget about your trip?”

“I don’t know, considering that’s all I’ve talked about for the last couple of weeks.” The salty seawater-laced air, sand between her toes, the sun beating down, and waves crashing against the shore had all beckoned to her ever since she saw that billboard near her favorite coffee shop, Emmy’s. Throwing caution to the wind, she went to the travel agent the same day and that was that. 

A part of her wanted that reminder of that beach in California years ago. 

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me with these animals for almost a week.” 

“You’ll manage! Besides, don't you have your own personal bodyguard in Chris?” Amara gestures towards him as he just so happens to walk into Wesker’s office at that moment.

“Please.” Jill snorted, rolling her eyes. 

“Shhh, you’ll hurt his feelings,” Amara teased. 

“Are you sure you didn’t want to stop by Jack’s bar later? For a few minutes? Have some fun before you’re swept off by a beautiful blonde hunk on the beach?” 

Summer in Raccoon City had been tense and quiet as of late. Every citizen was on edge, waiting to hear that the killers terrorizing the city had been apprehended. But, that never stopped Jill it seems. Though, she can’t find it in her to really blame her… most everyone had their things to get their minds off what is definitely a stressful situation. 

Amara doesn’t drink, not to the extent that the others did, she found that choosing to be sober and coherent made her a social pariah. 

So, she was always glad to be included even only if she only sipped on a club soda but even the promise of a balmy summer night out with friends didn’t street her from her responsibilities, “Chris may actually have to be your bodyguard tonight. Nothing is coming between me and my suitcase tonight.” 

Except maybe a rerun of Golden Girls, her favorite show as of late. That certainly was the thing that kept her mind off things. 

“Another time then–”

“Moore? A word?” Captain Wesker’s cool, professional voice comes from his office. 

“I’ll catch you in the meeting?” Jill said, not really posing a question but it comes across that way. Amara nods, pushing herself from her chair, a beeline straight to Wesker. 

Irons stalked past Amara and out of the room. 

Looks like he could use a shit from how stiff he was. 

Paying no mind to him further, she stepped into Wesker’s office. The latter busied himself with paperwork, shuffling it in an orderly manner. The office was small, but well-kept, actually other than the mess of papers, it was so neat that Amara found it disturbing. Every surface that she could see was utterly spotless, strange for a man…considering how most she’d known couldn’t be assed to even pick up a piece of trash that laid at their feet. 

Amara’s only conclusion that she always came to was that Captain Wesker was naturally this clean, this…in control. 

“Yes, Captain?”

“Ah, Amara, glad to see you,” Wesker greeted, his words rarely matching his tone. Sunglasses covered his eyes but that was beside the point. The last time he used her first name was…well, never actually. 

“You needed a word?” She asked, keeping her voice steady. 

"I just wanted to touch base with you before you take your vacation," Wesker said smoothly. "You've been doing excellent work lately, and I want to make sure you know how important you are to the team."

Usually, she loved to be recognized for her work, it let her know that she had some grasp on things but a chill ran down her spine. There was something about the way Wesker spoke that made her feel like she was being watched like he knew something about her that she didn't.

"Thank you, sir," she said, trying to sound grateful.

Wesker smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes–as if she’d actually be able to see them with his glasses on. "Just remember, Amara, we're all in this together. And I expect great things from you when you return.”

Amara nodded, feeling more uneasy than ever. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was completely off, but she had to for the sake of their morning meeting. Maybe down the line, she would’ve recognized the signs.  

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x oc #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #re2 remake fic #re2 Leon #re2make #re2 remake #claire redfield #original character #city of the dead fic #leon scott kennedy #black oc #oc character #leon kennedy x black oc #finally some claire redfield #chris is an idiot and I came up with the soup shit on the fly #mixed race oc