⌖ㅤ𝑪ondor 𝑶n̲e̲,

[ S̲E̲P̲T̲M̲E̲B̲E̲R̲ ̲3̲0̲T̲H̲,̲ ̲1̲9̲9̲8̲ ] ᶦᵗ'ˢ   ᵃ   ᵈᵃʸ   ᶦ'ˡˡ   ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ   ᶠᵒʳᵍᵉᵗ 

[kennediey]

time to bury umbrella's last skeleton ﹙⅋̲ ﹚ this time you ain't getting back up. ━━━━ a private, mutuals-only & very low activity writing blog for leon s. kennedy, of capcom's b̲i̲o̲h̲a̲z̲a̲r̲d̲ / r̲e̲s̲i̲d̲e̲n̲t̲ e̲v̲i̲l̲ franchise. a combination of the original games and remakes, alongside personal headcanons. #𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒚.

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    ﹙¹﹚ rules, ﹙²﹚ prompts, ﹙³﹚ sideblog, ﹙⁴﹚ pinterest,

an exploration in ... survivor's guilt, a one-man army, a knight in sour armor, better to die than be killed, chronic hero syndrome, the shell-shocked veteran, heroic fatigue & the seen it all.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‎‎the bullet or the blade that kept us apart.

[kennediey]

hold, i deleted the post. but i'm bringing it back for round two. again, just because i've moved leon to my multi for the time being, doesn't mean you can straight up copy / lift things from my blog.

[kennediey]

and also for the time being, i will be moving leon to my new multimuse found at excaliabur.tumblr.com, just with everything going on and how busy both life and my brain is, this is the best outcome for me 💙

[kennediey]

nobody: so ... resi.dent evil — me:

[amatorial]

[     𝐒𝐌𝐒. →    𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃𝐘 . ] ouch ? sour candy not your thing? you know your answer will result in lifetime judgement.

[     𝐒𝐌𝐒. →    𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃𝐘 . ] .. I'm halfway finished and I can stop whenever I want to. it's a movie theater box.

she both stares, and rolls her eyes at the text messages. her mouth did hurt, but that was besides the point. she had ordered it specifically. for a moment, she had forgotten whatever strife that she'd been nursing tonight, and it wasn't completely lost on her that it was leon who could bring that out of her with a few things to say. it almost felt cathartic, talking about normal things ― well, normal enough. it's weird to think too much what a normal conversation would even look like. do you even remember what the inside of a movie theater looks like ?

claire doesn't like to ask anymore, about his job. that one instance, the whole suit .. yeah, sure .. she knows it's not ideal, he doesn't want ― maybe, there's too much she doesn't know and too much he didn't say. you do your thing, I do mine. jobs like the one leon had weren't invitations of skill, they were often threats, this or that. untold, you have no choice. she can see it in his eyes, when he affords her the chance to see him. THAT ISN'T FAIR. all she knows, is she'd rather have all of him, than none.

[     𝐒𝐌𝐒. →    𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃𝐘 . ] then, stay safe.

for me, for sherry .. most of all, for you. the night is wearing her down and she can feel such fatigue in her eyes, most nights it's like this. unless work, she found herself forcing herself to stay awake until she passed out. or, her stack of alarms issued each hour and thirty minutes in between.

[     𝐒𝐌𝐒. →    𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃𝐘 . ] here and there, it's probably just a timezone thing. you ?

[kennediey]

⌞ ˢᵐˢ ⤑ claire redfield ⌝ : you're not gonna stop. don't kid yourself, redfield. ⌞ ˢᵐˢ ⤑ claire redfield ⌝ : i'm more of a sweet tooth kinda guy to be fair.

an amused smirk lingers upon his corners, as his thumbs move across the screen. he likes to think he knows claire redfield well — well enough to know that no oversized box of sour candy can defeat her. it almost feels ... normal, this back-and-forth exchange. almost. because normal isn't in the cards for either of them.

they're always so busy with work, to their lives dedicated to the fight toward bio-organic weapons and the bastards that manufacture them, without any close end in sight. at least, claire found purpose with terrasave ... a non-government agency. least, she still some of her freedoms.

leon exhales slowly, as he starts typing out a standard kennedy reply. something of the sorts like 'you know me' or 'if i can help it.' but this is claire, and he knows she's worrying, even without directly saying so.

⌞ ˢᵐˢ ⤑ claire redfield ⌝ : yes ma'am.

⌞ ˢᵐˢ ⤑ claire redfield ⌝ : yeah, about the same. ⌞ ˢᵐˢ ⤑ claire redfield ⌝ : i forget how much she's grown.

a beat passes, as leon studies his phone, thumb idly brushing the edge. he's already deduced it must be late for claire, and she's already deflected his question by way of sour candy. he could leave it there, probably should? but he doesn't. with his jaw setting, he types,

⌞ ˢᵐˢ ⤑ claire redfield ⌝ : sure you're ok? i've got time.

[kennediey]

leon was in raccoon city for less than 12 hours, if that. he arrives on september 29th, 1998 at approx, 10:30pm. (specifically mizol gas station on the city's outskirts. where it begins for him.) then, gets to central raccoon and the r.p.d. at around 11pm. pursuing that, the underground parking garage, the sewers and then the umbrella facility nest itself ... and then, his escape alongside claire & sherry, where dawn is breaking, marking the date september 30th, 1998 at 7am. (given that its september, in what i've always headcanoned to be the state of missouri). thus! the worst night of leon's life was over the course of just 9 hours, and yet stays with him for the rest of his life and forever defines him. ✌

[skelesass]

quick sketch

[kennediey]

nothing upsets me more than constantly watching leon being dulled down to nothing but thirst trap appeal. like, yes, there is no denying that he is a very attractive character appearance wise. but that's not why i love leon as much as i do. he's a character with lore and growth that spans over thirty years! he went from a rookie cop, to an absolute powerhouse. but deep down, he's still just wanting to save people, to ensure that nothing like raccoon city happens again. and sure, at times, he thought it was more of a losing battle, the what's the point of it all, because it keeps happening ... but then there's always someone to pull him back, someone to fight for. he protects, that's what he does. he's always been protecting people, it's literally the core aspect of his games. he's funny, and stupidly witty, and a true menace to society that does unnecessary backflips. but he's a character that is defined by his trauma, and lives everyday with that trauma and trying to overcome it and trying to make a difference in a fucked up world. he's so much more than just the sex appeal plastered across the internet, thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[kennediey]

                        leon had managed to slip away before anybody could stop him, not that the medical team didn't try. protests are left in his wake, something about protocol, but leon's already halfway down the hall, as he radios hunnigan — informing her that he'll be unavailable for the rest of the evening. she knew the drill by now, and leon doesn't know what he'd do without her watching his back half the time.

a little while later, he pulls up outside mack's apartment block, the adrenaline that's been carrying him all evening finally beginning to fade away, and with that, comes the unpleasant awareness of everything his body's just been through. bruises, cuts, a deep ache in his back as if someone tried to fold him in half. miraculously ... somehow, he makes it to mack's floor without incident. the lift doors slide open, and leon pushes himself forward, boots scuffing along the hallway.

no one blinks an eye at him, probably for the best, he looks like hell. blood darkens his clothes, there's grime and bits of unidentifiable gunk clinging to his jacket and boots. god, he needs a shower. leon plants one hand against the wall beside the front door, with barely enough strength to raise his fist. instead, he leans forward and lets his forehead thud against the door, followed by a muffled, ❝ ...it's me. ❞

*̷ ━━━━━ a starter for @aratsaka,

[cloudkennedy]

#he perch

[kennediey]

*̷ @amatorial ... claire redfield, ❝ i'm not in the mood.   ❞

                        if claire isn't up for going out for dinner, then leon will just bring dinner to her. that's what he's decided in this very moment. not when he's actually here for once, instead of halfway across the world on some assignment, unreachable. ❝ alright ... ❞ he murmurs, hands moving to the front of his jacket and starts undoing it's buttons. a suit, he knows how much claire doesn't like them on him. too stiff, too official, it didn't suit him. he shrugs it off, and drapes it over the back of one of her chairs, and he rolls his left shoulder to ease some tension.

❝ i'm no chef, but i can cook us up a pretty mean breakfast for dinner? ❞ leon says, as he loosens his cuffs and pushes his sleeves up to the elbow, and begins making his way toward the kitchen like a plan already underway. ❝ how's that sound?   ❞ once he's made the decision to stay, that's pretty much it. claire would have to physically drag him out of the door if she didn't want him hovering around.

❝ and if you hate it, i promise not to take it personally. takeout's still an option.   ❞ for a second, the years seem to fall away from his expression and the smile that surfaces is softer, and warmer, and uncanny similar worn by a rookie cop standing at the opposite side of a chain-link fence. his voice drops a little, ❝ you don't have to deal with this stuff on your own, claire ... i'm right here. ❞

[aratsaka]

“ i took psych classes in college. ” he graduated from college seven years ago at this point, a couple years before he met leon for the first time. “ but i don't remember that far back. ” mack chuckles, moving closer to leon, scooting until their bodies are touching. “ this isn't psychology, it's me caring. ” he pokes his boyfriend's bare arm, eyes flicking up to look at him. he liked deflecting. mack knew that about him from the moment they met when he used humor to try and get what he wanted. he usually found it charming, but right now he wished leon would just accept some help when it was offered.

he's still slouched in bed, low enough to rest his head against leon's shoulder while he wraps his arms around his boyfriend's. “ so you met killer croc, or something? ” mack laughs, shaking his head. “ that's kinda fucked, babe. i can't believe you survived that. ” mack thought his job was pretty dangerous. he could have never imagined what leon did until that first conversation outside of work. how he survived it all, he didn't know. “ was that the same night as... ” he makes a vague circular motion with his hand, not tearing his eyes from his face. “ everything else? ”

[kennediey]

                        mack's laughter rings, and leon lets out an airy chuckle alongside — least, like he suspected he might, mack found the humor in it. ❝ suppose you could say that. ❞ as for surviving that? there's much from that night he shouldn't have survived. moments where the odds weren't just bad; they were impossibly against him. teeth snapping inches from his throat, claws scraping at concrete where he'd stood seconds before.

when mack makes the small and vague gesture — the one that says that night? raccoon city, september 30th. leon slowly nods his head, without making eye contact. ❝ ... yeah.   ❞ he answers, and simply too. like that ought to be the end of that. most of the time, it is. it wasn't very often leon spoke about raccoon, but mack has been all but patient with him. and he's mostly just left him with unanswered questions and unknowns, when mack has otherwise been ... honest with him.

leon finally looks to him, though his gaze drifts down to the lines of ink winding across mack's skin. without quite thinking, his fingers begin to trace the tattoos. ❝ i'd just gotten out of the police station ... after what felt like the world's longest damn fetch quest just to find a keycard for the parking garage.   ❞ he follows a line up to the bend of mack's elbow, as if retracing his steps. ❝ from there, i made my way into the sewers. and that's where i ran into old croc.   ❞ his hand then pauses, he huffs a quiet breath. ❝ think i would've preferred to have just taken a psych class.   ❞

[kennediey]

*̷ @prohdigal ... grace ashcroft, ❝ i just figured i'd come by.   ❞

                        the office of agent kennedy could easily be mistaken for an abandoned unit, if not for the simple fact that he happens to be inside. otherwise, the space bears no personal effects, or signs of being frequently used. the only thing claiming it as his, is the narrow nameplate afixed to the desk — leon s. kennedy. leon himself stands behind the desk, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, as he sorts through a stack of documents. his office is a pit stop, and nothing more, to collect whatever's been left on his desk, choke down a cup of what the d.s.o insists of calling coffee, and move on again.

he slides a handful of papers into a manila folder, intent on leaving in the next few minutes, when there's a soft knock at the door ... and grace's voice that follows. ❝ hey, you.   ❞ he looks up, tired eyes softening as a small smile tugs at his corners. ❝ you've got great timing, i was just 'bout finished here.   ❞ the folder in his hands is tossed onto the desk, forgotten for now. the bureaucrats can wait. grace, on the other hand, has his full attention.

instinctively, leon's gaze sweeps over her, searching for any signs of immediate distress. ❝ everythin' alright?   ❞ he asks, before the corner of his mouth tilts more into something of tease. ❝ not needing to borrow my gun again, are you?   ❞ he jerks his chin toward the coat rack, where requiem sits within his hanging holster. leon then circles around his desk, and settles upon the front edge, with arms folded and ankles crossed. ❝ how's emily? did she, uh, get the bear i sent over? sorry i couldn't stop by, had to do some ... let's just call it damage control.   ❞

[kennediey]

i hate this franchise, i hate this game, wdym she's acting just like leon did 30 years ago in raccoon city and wanting to help. what do you mean i'm having to watch history repeat itself, what do you mean..

[kennediey]

leon when he survives quite possibly the worst night of his life, has to split up from claire, now caring for the 12 year old sherry they've rescued. is picked up by the u.s government, interrogated, still in his gross ass uniform with a literal bullet wound in his shoulder, and basically told, yeah you know too much, so we can silence you, or you can instead work for us and in exchange, we won't harm nor experiment on this little girl that'd been infected with the g-virus. and bro's sat there, without much of a choice, and continuing to protect sherry, and not even bringing up the fact claire was there either to ensure she can still find chris, and willingly gives himself up for them. and here he is, 30 years later, STILL working for them cause now he's got nothing else going for him, but boy, oh boy, the distrust is real, but he knows they need him, more than he needs them.

[amatorial]

she tries to not take it personally when he withholds. wouldn't be the first time it happened and likely not the last but it was a moot point. there came a point where claire stayed away until she didn't and this instance was the inevitable .. didn't. so she starts up again.

[     𝐒𝐌𝐒. →    LEON. ] eating the worlds most sour candy.

because she can't sleep, and claire doesn't actually sleep these days anyway. she puts his text away for a second, looking over unanswered texts from others and herself, before reopening his. leon had always been a tricky subject when it came down to it. but she can't talk, she actually really can't. terrasave was supposed to be the supposed safe job, unlike the boots on the ground approach leon and chris took upon. bullshit ! with how many times she's crossed leon and then, the nightmares she's endured..

it's not important, it's not important. the phone nearly meets the wall before she takes a moment of quiet. it's always a moment of quiet. even though he didn't say, she wonders what he's doing now. how long and when they can actually do this face to face. she isn't sure if she even wants that. she does, but then ..

[     𝐒𝐌𝐒. →    LEON. ] so , does " something " have a nice view ? [     𝐒𝐌𝐒. →    LEON. ] what can you tell me.

[kennediey]

                        his phone buzzes, and he's quick to retrieve it from his lap and swipe open her message. it wouldn't be the first time claire's reached out when something's gone sideways ... rockfort island, if he's not mistaken. he would've went himself, but he was still training, and had no way of reaching her. the redfield's had been long overdue a reunion anyway — and if anyone could punch their way through hell to find claire, it was her brother. but seems, she's currently the furthest thing from true danger, and her response has him chuckling.

⌞ ˢᵐˢ ⤑ claire redfield ⌝ : ouch. definitely a lost cause then. ⌞ ˢᵐˢ ⤑ claire redfield ⌝ : bet you'll still finish the packet though.

the guilt still gnaws at his bones, however. checking the time, and applying the difference of their locations ... it's late where claire is. late enough that most people would've been asleep hours ago. but of course, she wasn't asleep, and not that he blames her. it's something leon understands far more than he tends to let on.

⌞ ˢᵐˢ ⤑ claire redfield ⌝ : lot of blue right now. still flying over the atlantic. eta is another few hours still. ⌞ ˢᵐˢ ⤑ claire redfield ⌝ : but nothing major, just the usual mo.

as if fighting biological weapons and the companies that create them, or parasitical plaga capable of corrupting whole villages was anything but the usual. truth is, leon can barely remember what life had been like before ... well, all of this. he suspects claire feels the same, but it's one of those things neither of them ever say.

⌞ ˢᵐˢ ⤑ claire redfield ⌝ : you heard from sherry?

[aratsaka]

“ and you think giving it to the government is better? let me guess, you're one of those hopeful types that thinks they actually want to help us? ” he presses down on his left knee harder, hoping this leon s. kennedy is right handed like everyone else. then again, someone like him is probably ambidextrous. so he leans forward more, searching his face. he's probably a good person. nothing like mack. mack, who has no qualms about giving a viral sample that would render someone a literal zombie to his superior.

mackenzie, report. he hears suzuki say, and he groans as if this were a huge inconvenience. “ i'm handling this. ” he says back in japanese, hopefully hiding the panic from his handler from leon. “ okay, leon s. kennedy. i'm walking out of here. you can find your own damn sample. we're in a laboratory. try cracking open one of those locked doors. bet you that piece you had could shoot a lock off. ”

[kennediey]

                        leon might've scoffed at the remark, the hopeful type, under normal circumstances. but right now, he's got a more pressing problem. namely the fact, that he's pinned flat against the ground by an arasaka suit who apparently skipped the memo about personal space. the guy's knee digs into leon's arms, and he's close enough that leon can feel the warmth of his breath brushing across his face.

❝ i can't let you do that.   ❞ he says simply, then he moves. his legs snap up, hooking tight around the man's waist and leon twists sharply, using the leverage to yank him forward and roll them both, and a second later, the tables are turned. agent kennedy lands on top, planting a knee into the man's chest. ❝ and who said anything 'bout me handing it back to them? ❞ leon mutters, before right on cue — the door behind them shudders violently in its frame.

another impact follows, then another. something is throwing itself against it with just enough force. the thieves infected by what they'd stolen have finally found them. ❝ yeah ... figured they'd catch up eventually.   ❞ leon stands, stepping back from the suit on the floor as the pounding grows. he moves to retrieve his fallen gear, his knife and then matilda. ❝ arasaka really can't be worth it, can they? ❞