Echo

(pictures not mine) | she/they, ace | 22 | chreon go BRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

[mimmixerenard]

I think he's a bit confused.

This one's been taking dust in my drawing ideas list for weeks. Ever since the first two RE1-centric mini comics, actually.

[leon-kennedy-offical]

It’s because he can’t READ

[sebbystar]

Hey @echoing-insanity have u seen this?

[echoing-insanity]

My Chris canonically has dyslexia because of this very meme. Then he gets better but shhhh, nobody knows that yet

[echoing-insanity]

The untitled Chreon AU is no longer untitled

Guys gals and non-binary pals, by somehow, someway, I have gained a name for my fic(s).

This will eventually be on AO3, but I'm gonna keep the name to myself for now and surprise y'all with it later.

Also, it is a passion project, so I'll say something when I finally post the actual first chapter. It's gonna be a while, though, because I don't want to get burned out on it and abandon it.

[echoing-insanity]

Imagine the Redfield Bloodline meme. But. Hear me out.

"LEOOOOOONNN! GET YOUR ASS BACK IN MY BED. THE REDFIELD BLOODLINE MUST CONTINUE!"

Trans!Leon had just gone to the kitchen for a glass of water, dressed only in Chris's large shirt. His eyes are wide as he sees a naked Chris standing there, menacingly, in the hallway.

"If I must," he says with a chuckle, sauntering back into the bedroom.

[echoing-insanity]

Chapter 1.2 of whatever my Chreon AU is called

Oh did I mention it's a time travel fic? Don't worry, that last part won't have him stay like that forever. This time, it's Chris's POV.

Previous part here

Honestly, most days he didn’t. His life was never the same after Wesker sent the Raccoon City STARS team to the Arklay Mountains, to the Spencer Mansion. It had fallen apart there, and no amount of whatever he tried to use for glue would piece it back together again.

Chris trembles as he clutches his friend’s child to his chest. Dead friend’s child. Ethan Winters was his best civilian friend, the one who could commiserate with him about work yet didn’t remind him that he was supposed to be a Captain, supposed to have his life put together.

The only semblance of normal he had was that one time he and– and Leon sat down, bared their hearts to each other, even if they were both drunk as fuck.

Rose’s gurgling shocks his mind back to the present, and he’s instantly aware of the tears on his cheeks.

His watery eyes lock onto the file laying in front of him. It’s unassuming, almost innocent in the way the manila cardstock of the folder hugs the white paper inside.

Most of Chris’s important life events were wrapped in manila folders. But none of them had ever bore the name this one did.

The agent who had brought it had carefully set it on the desk in front of him with a sad smile and left. The look people always gave him when yet another one of his comrades-in-arms doesn’t make it back. Almost hysterically, Chris thinks he might’ve known the agent only as the friendly receptionist who gives him a smile every time he walks in the building. Someone he’s not even close with is the person who brings him the news.

The folder glares up at him, begging him to open it. He has to know, has to bear the weight on his shoulders like he bore the weight of so many other deaths and tragedies.

The words Kennedy, Leon S. wave at Chris through his tears.

He brings a dirty sleeve to his eyes, wiping away enough to see clearer than before. His fingers tremble and shake as he feels the open edge, almost afraid to survey the contents. In this moment, it looks more dangerous than any virus he’s fought against.

One hand keeping Rosemary Winters against his chest, the other flips open the folder.

There, in bright red, KIA is stamped over Leon’s smug grin.

Chris can’t hold it back anymore.

The one person who could match him, the one person who always had his back, was gone. Killed by the very thing they sought to destroy.

Chris absently wonders if it’s all his fault. If his curse finally gripped its sharp claws into Leon. If Leon could’ve been saved if Chris hadn’t been wallowing in his grief for Ethan. If he was just five minutes faster–

Rosemary’s tiny, pudgy hand smacks his face as she fusses slightly, tossing and turning in the crook of his arm. Instinctively, he coos at her, making soft shushing noises as he brings his other hand to support her.

“It’s alright, Little Rose. Uncle Chris is here. Shh, it’s alright.”

Her intervention—accidental as it was—helps clear his mind.

“Guess I really am too stupid and emotional, huh?” A bittersweet laugh escapes his chapped lips as he recalls Leon’s exact words about him. “Your– Your Uncle Leon always told me that. I have a feeling that you two would’ve teamed up to make my life a living hell.”

Despite his watery eyes and dyslexia that’s only gotten worse with age, he reads.

Cause of death: cGSW. Suspected reemergence of t-Virus, or Plagas parasite. Body unable to be retrieved due to–

Chris can’t read any further. He can’t stomach it. A bullet to the head, plus the possible rampage of multiple viruses.

“I’m done.” His voice is soft, barely more than a whisper. If Leon isn’t here, then this world can rot for all he cares. Leon was the only good he had left, the only one his heart had settled on. Nivans had piqued his interest, but in the end had been more like his own kid before he died.

Like something is moving his limbs, Chris numbly flips the folder closed and rises from his seat, taking Rosemary with him.

Three hours later, he hands in his resignation.

[sacophy]

[echoing-insanity]

Chapter 1.1 of whatever my Chreon AU is called

So I guess I'm posting it here first. Spoilers for Requiem bad ending, but I'm pretty sure everyone knows it by now.

Sorry it's so clunky (actually kinda like it this way), but I watched a three minute clip of the scene and was possessed by SOMETHING.

Next part here

He regrets being led around by the nose by Ada. He regrets not fighting for his own happiness. He regrets not quitting the godforsaken DSO. He regrets not saving Lieutenant Marvin Branagh. He regrets letting the virus under his skin win. He regrets not telling Chris how he really felt.

Despite wanting it to end this way, back where it all started, in Raccoon City, Leon can’t help but have regrets.

He regrets a lot of things.

However, he could never regret helping save and working with Sherry. He could never regret killing his own bastard of a father. He could never regret the choice to feel right in his own skin and start the testosterone doses. He could never regret doing his part in the field to help fight against bioterrorism.

If only he could contribute more than his pathetic, unhappy, wasted life.

Watching Grace reach out for him, he has a bitter smile on his face. The platform is falling apart under him, shaking, quaking. Both he and Zeno will die here. He’s okay with that. But despite wanting this, wishing for this… he feels like his work isn’t finished.

Before his sluggish mind can work further, find his reasons to survive, the Wesker Wannabe rips the hatchet out of his shoulder with a grunt. It clatters to the ground as Zeno rolls his neck, the wound stitching itself back together.

Leon prepares himself, pulling up his fists, winding back his swing in a stuttering manner. His body isn’t working with him anymore, like it knows the end is here.

Zeno’s arm folds Leon in half before he can form his next thought, and the only thing in his mind is I’m glad she made it out. He falls to the ground with a bone-rattling cough, on his hands and knees. But it isn’t enough, it’s never enough. So Leon heaves himself back to his feet, taking another swing.

The superhuman catches it easily and drives his palm into Leon’s shoulder, dislocating it. The pain and momentum brings Leon to his knees with a cry.

He thinks he might’ve heard Grace calling for him, but his clouded mind is fogged over with irrational fear and anger.

Leon gets up again, like he always does, and takes another swing. He can’t help but think this is very Chris-like of him. Zeno dodges, jabs a fist into his side, throws a right hook into his face, then a left.

Leon stumbles back, his vision spinning more than it was, and gets a roundhouse kick for it. He’s turned around, he can taste copper, his vision is fuzzy, and his ears are ringing. His body is crying out in pain, but Leon doesn’t because his father beat that out of him a long time ago.

A punch to the stomach makes Leon heave, cough up blood. More than before. Deliriously, he thinks of all the other times he’s been like this.

His hands reach out to grasp onto something, anything, as he falls to his knees. He can’t see. Can’t hear. Can’t feel anything but pain.

Gingerly, he brings a hand to his stomach. His breath wheezes out of his lungs, blood accompanying every inhale and exhale he can barely squeeze through his throat.

At least this guy didn’t go for his neck, like all the other BOWs he had fought.

He blinks slowly, his vision coming back just enough to see Grace yelling at him from her precarious place, but he can’t hear her. He can only hear the rush of blood in his ears.

His vision is blocked by white. Zeno. He tips his head back to look at the blond, looking his angel of death in the eye.

Funny, how the most angelic thing he sees in his life isn’t the endless abyss of a bottle, his saving grace of a mother, the blissful high of an orgasm, or even the freeing sight of his father’s blood on his hands.

Well, there’s only one thing that can beat this Wesker Wannabe in the size of the halo over his head. Briefly, he thinks of Chris, thinks of how the Captain looks, haloed by the setting sun. Thinks of how he wants to reach into that light and keep it to himself, lock it behind his ribcage and feel that warmth forever.

He doesn’t see what’s in front of him as he gasps out what are probably going to be his last words. His vision is filled with the smug grin of his personal angel.

“At least… I could save you.” At least I could save you from this horrid end. Save you from this pitiful sight. Save you from being brought down by me.

He knows Chris will hate him for this, for choosing his own death. But at least all of this would be behind him. This would be his final stand, right back where it all started for him. Goddamn fucking Raccoon City.

The sound of a gun cocking hits his ears, ripping him back to painful reality.

The amber light of the lab falling apart around them glints off of steel and then—

A flash.

And Leon Scott Kennedy is no more.

[echoing-insanity]

Thinking about trans Leon growing up with an alcoholic dad who raised him in the mafia.

Thinking about trans Leon learning how to wield a gun and how best to kill someone at a young age.

Thinking about trans Leon coming out to his parents, only to have his father start abusing him.

Thinking about trans Leon who killed his father in cold blood after watching him murder his mother in front of him.

Thinking about trans Leon finally starting testosterone doses by blackmailing one of his dad's contacts.

Thinking about trans Leon being a pretty boy and sexually harassed during school and especially at the police academy.

I have So Many Thoughts. This AU will become my lifeblood.

[echoing-insanity]

*Surfaces from my bullshit and heaves in a breath*

NEW FANDOM I'M SO SORRY I'M SO ENGROSSED.

*Points at Resident Evil*

*Points specifically at two old men who CLEARLY are tragically doomed to never get together*

THEY'RE SO CUTE TOGETHER THEY'RE MY EVERYTHING.

*Smooshes Leon S. Kennedy and Chris Redfield together like Barbie dolls*

Fic ideas are going BRRRRRRRRR—

[echoing-insanity]

Never thought I would be looking up Utah building codes. But like. My brain has to do RESEARCH. Even for just one tiny line.

(Edwin Murray's house is NOT structurally sound in my AU, okay? How else does he die in his own house where the room partly collapses?)

Also, I have this funny idea to make Michael yeet back in time via sneeze. Past me wrote that out very well, apparently.

[echoing-insanity]

I considering using Spring Bonnie. I considering the Yellow Rabbit. I considered a lot of names.

I renamed the springlock suit Cinnabon.

Because like, how do you have "Fredbear" and then "Spring Bonnie"? In no way do those names match, it does not make me happy.

Because if you get "Freddy" from "Fredbear", then you can get "Bonnie" from "Cinnabon".

(Yes, Michael missed those pastries from his last timeline and he was half asleep when William was fishing for ideas.)

[echoing-insanity]

Ignore how long I've been gone, I've just been gaming rather than writing.

Also

I WATCHED FNAF 2 AND HOOOOOOOLY SHIT.

I have Opinions on that, (why they do my boy like that-?) but STILL

NEW YEAR MEANS NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION.

And mine? To actually Work On The Fic.

(I just don't want to say anything about the movie because it's still fairly new.)

[echoing-insanity]

Just had An Idea.

Vanny, but not.

Instead of Vanessa being a beta tester and taken over by Glitchtrap, she's just an innocent, if a bit gruff security guard by the time Michael makes his way through Security Breach.

Instead, what if I had fucking Dawko running around as Glitchtrap's minion? Like, the man's YouTube profile picture and most of his songs (that I know of) are about Glitchtrap, being taken over by him.

Instead of Vanny running around the Pizzaplex, what if Dawko was part of the staff, probably as a lead in the entertainment department? One blue eye, one purple, and an eerily wide grin always on his face.

Not to mention, he would do the customer service and make his rounds, enchanting children with his little tricks and skills.

Or, even better, Vanny and Dawko were working together to kidnap children to feed the Mimic?

IDK, I think it'd be neat. We have, like, 10 named people in this franchise and I need extra characters.

(Yes, Mark Iplier (pronounced "ip-lee-ay" because I can) will be a reoccurring night guard.)

[echoing-insanity]

IGNORE MY LAST POST, I HAD A BRAND NEW IDEA THAT'S SO MUCH BETTER.

I talked about Michael doing Secret of the Mimic, right?

So, William drives himself and Michael to survey MCM, which he's basically just acquired for cheap.

Michael remembers running around the place with his Aunt Fiona and pseudo-cousin David.

Michael meets the Mimic, who sees the Foxy plush, and offers the White Tiger plush to Michael. Who understands what it means, that the plush David never lets go of is here, dirty and abandoned. (Not abandoned. Never abandoned. David will never leave his plush, no matter how much William pikes and prods at the soul inside-)

Meanwhile, William is besieged by both the Mimic and F10-N4, because he's the asshole who caused this whole mess.

Michael's having the time of his life, being cared for and offered a shoulder to cry on. William is having the worst day of his life, being chased by burning mascots, being forced to solve his old friend's stupid puzzles, all just for the blueprints and schematics he wants.

Just imagine the two getting back in the car together at the end, William's signature purple boat of a car. Michael, sad, holding two plushies, and William, frazzled and gripping onto documents with his LIFE.

I'm just writing in stream of thought and these ideas are just COMING TO ME.

[echoing-insanity]

Nobody will ever understand my absolute HYPERFIXATION on Michael Afton.

Like

I just watched a couple videos on Secret of the Mimic, and somehow, I had gotten the timeline right??? In my AU??? And now all I can think of is putting 11 year old Michael through it.

Like, William doesn't know what he's sending his kid into, Michael doesn't remember this place from his last timeline so it should be fine, the Mimic just sees a kid with a little plush (Michael really likes his Foxy plush, there's lore there in the AU)...

Of course, David remembers playing with his "cousin", playing with the one eyed fox and the bicolored eyed tiger.

And Michael doesn't know what the Mimic is.

So of course, my little baby is fine, but when it's time to leave, the Mimic won't let him.

Then William has to show up to take his kid back.

And the Mimic is NOT having that.

After all, Edwin taught the Mimic that fathers only hurt their children (because Mimic was acting as David, there is no evidence that Edwin abused David, just that he neglected him).

Like, logically, I know that Secret of the Mimic is too much to add on to Michael's shoulders, but at the same time, I don't care.

I want my poor little meow meow to have good things and also all the trauma.

[echoing-insanity]

Okay but what if I made CC super autistic.

Like, that would explain why he's always crying and sobbing when in my AU, Michael is trying to be a Good Big BrotherTM.

And if Michael is the responsible one, Elizabeth is the enthusiastic one, then CC is right in the cross hairs of William's morbid curiosity about why this child is so different from the others.

I dunno, I just think the idea is neat. It'd also actually solve quite a few plot holes for me.

[ouroborosorder]

*giggling and kicking my feet like a cartoon schoolgirl with a crush* ehehehhehehe i have friends and they like me. ehehehehe

[echoing-insanity]

Now if only I had friends.

(I do. Just IRLs who don't totally understand my hyperfixations and special interests.)

...

Time to go play with my favorite blorbos-

[echoing-insanity]

Imagine making an entire AU and then never letting it see the light of the internet.

Like

I have remade lore. I have reworked timelines (4 times)! I have made art (one image. I am so bad at drawing). I have mapped out ages, heights, who lives, who dies. I have made *maps*.

But every time I sit down to write it?

I feel like everything that flows out is complete and utter bullshit.

I feel like my writing isn't as good as canon.

I feel like I've done too much, and gone too far.

But then, I let one person in, let one person read over the premise, and they say "hey, this shit is good."

So I'm going to try.

I'm going to try and keep going.

I'm going to try and reach out, and find two or three more people who are willing to read over my supposed bullshit.

Because the only way I am happy with my own work, is when other people are enjoying it.

Get ready for a FNaF fic centered on Michael Afton, who's had a dash of possession, quite a few brushes with death, and survived being yeeted into another timeline.

(Someone please help, I need to talk about this with someone and to get a kick in the ass to write it.)