#nerd!leon ask

[rookieinglasses]

"You've gotta be kidding me."

"I- That's- It- How?!"

"It was bombed! How the hell is it here?!"

"You've gotta be shitting me."

"Like I know?! Probably got dropped here like Jasmine Dragon was."

"An entire city?!"

"Do you have any other ideas?"

Three shockingly similar voices could be heard, seemingly unaware or uncaring of attracting undead attention.

(OOC: Hiya, @three-leons-in-a-trenchcoat here. Saw you pop up recently, so I decided to yeet my Leons at ya)

Leon runs with all his might, faster than he can breathe, jumping over obstacles. He sincerely hated physical education classes, especially the team games. But now it's a matter of survival. Otherwise, Mr. X will crush his head like an eggshell.

He skids on a turn, and to avoid breaking his leg, he throws it forward and slides sideways right into the wall. He falls not so much from distraction, but from the three shadows looming in the neon blue light where he intended to hide from the tyrant. Enormous and unusual silhouettes in the turquoise of the dim light on the wall, as ominous as the color from the further depths of other world.

It's a trap. Mr. X was just chasing him, and now three are waiting. Leon tries to catch his breath, his breathing so ragged that his own blood drums in his ears, and his fingers are numb from the cold inside.

[rookieinglasses]

((hello! if your leon interned at umbrella, maybe our characters might have met very briefly? would that be something you'd be down for? ive been wanting to make our characters interact but had no clue how LOL))

- @terato-canis

It was an open house among the labs at the research center. Such events are held so that prospective employees can find their future job. They can either stay where they did their internship or transfer to another lab.

Leon trailed behind the group, confused. He clearly wanted to leave that lab; he couldn't be complicit in such merciless abuse of dogs. He wanted to leave that corporation. In secret Leon dreamed of holding them accountable for all the cruelty.

But maybe he was unlucky with the lab? Maybe he was so unlucky to end up with such a cruel research team?

-Kennedy

Leon jumped out of his skin, not expecting to be called. He quick glanced at all those silhouettes at the other end of the corridor, lost. From a distance, they looked like one big acid stain, into which he didn't want to dissolve.

- Sorry

He tried, despite himself, to catch up with them, but he couldn't make it. They leave in the elevator without him. He sighs and shifts from foot to foot, waiting by the elevator shaft. Maybe walking would be faster?

Almost like a somnambulist, he decides to take the stairs, despite the strong urge to run away. He just needs to check on the puppies and give them some medicine and change 1472's bandages; that puppy's dermatitis is really bad. But he also needs to write an essay that will influence his future employment.

[rookieinglasses]

As you walk closer, the shape of the house reveals itself to be an old single-room church, steeple on the left reaching for the dim moon. The graying paint has worn away across the wooden battens, but there are signs of care in the flowers planted out front.

A rose window sits beneath the gable while three pointed arch windows line the lower facade at even intervals. The center is a clever door, betrayed by the two steps leading up to it and the sticky note with an arrow pointing to the handle (in case it wasn't obvious).

The barest slivers of soft light glow through the citrine glass, muted as if something has been draped across the interior.

👁️‍🗨️ Meet the contacts? Y/N

«Is it time to confess my sins?»

Leon didn't know; he believed in neither God nor the devil. This was perhaps the most unusual meeting place that could ever exist. Was he dealing with a religious fanatic? A cult? Why did this tiny Gothic church become the final destination of his chase after a shadow?

It was too early to tell, but the fact that they expected his arrival and left curious notes for him, much like the "Eat Me" labels left for Alice, was becoming more and more unsettling. He stopped before the door, trying to listen for any sound behind it. Someone was in there. Light danced across the stained glass—muted, barely piercing through the multi-faceted patterns of the window. There were no silhouettes, no outlines; just a strange waltz of shadow and light in the stinging silence.

The steps creaked treacherously, betraying his inner trepidation. His hand reached for his weapon but dropped to the door handle as if burned. The door opened with a slow, drawn-out groan, like an old woman’s muttering complaint. He peeked inside like a schoolboy who arrived late, his eyes quickly scanning the surroundings.

Who was his contact? Why had they chosen a remarkably preserved church in such a dilapidated, dead place? Who tended to it, keeping the wind and time from turning it into mere splinters and dust? Who were the parishioners? What kind of sermons were preached in this otherworldly silence, beneath the quiet weeping of fallen leaves?

He was prepared to see anything: a fanatic with religious fetishes like BTK, "ghosts" like those in St. George's Church, or members of the Church of Starry Wisdom. Yet, there was nothing. It was clean, and disquietingly still.

There was no smell of dampness, no incense, no human scent at all. He stepped deeper into the room, walking between the rows of pews, searching the shadows for his contact.

[rookieinglasses]

Go to your playlist, pick the oldest song on there. (Song age) Pull a Lyric from it and post that. See how many can guess it.

Leon offered a fleeting smile, his mind drifting back to those wondrous days when he would sit on the floor for hours after school, sorting through his father’s vinyl records. It was a carefree time—a time when his mother would find him there, fondly ruffle his hair, and help him guide a record into the stereo. Afterward, he would follow her to help around the house.

"The sad sack was a-sitting on a block of stone, way over in the corner weeping all alone"

Leon let out a soft chuckle, remembering how he used to goof around with his mother, and how his father, arriving home to a moment of bewildered amusement, would sweep her into a dance. He missed home. He missed Sherry. He missed his dogs.

He breathed out, adding to the post:

"And of everything I have shared here so far, it comes down to this:

No, I won’t be afraid, oh, I won’t be afraid, just as long as you stand, stand by me"

He and Sherry had danced like that once, on a rainy night, completely oblivious to the downpour of September 29th. He would never let her slip from his embrace, even if the sky itself were to come crashing down.

[rookieinglasses]

You hadn't been gone long, just enough to grab coffee and walk back through the empty hallways. How, then, did the envelope find it's way onto your desk?

It's a plain manila envelope, blank but for a handmade postage stamp in the top right corner. The perforated edges are jagged, and the image shows an open eye with four radiating lines below it, written in white gel pen atop a black background.

👁️‍🗨️ Open the letter? Y/N

A familiar, comforting chaos reigned over his desk, spread out like a tangible personal diary. Jutting from the mess was an envelope made of thick, opaque, yellowed paper. The man cast a brief, cautious glance around, as if searching for a phantom mailman in those dim, shadowed corridors, where the tiled floor had turned into ash gray matte mirror.

Leon cautiously lifted the envelope, inspecting it with a critical eye; the handmade stamp and the illustration troubled him. There was something chillingly juvenile, almost maniacal about it. He gave his head a sharp shake, the campfire stories of the Zodiac Killer flitting through his mind. Setting the letter aside for a moment, he pulled on a pair of squeaking gloves. What he hated even more was putting on the respirator—the hassle of taking off his glasses, the straps ripping at his hair, and that suffocating, muzzle-like sensation over his face. His glasses could barely stay on now, but he leaned in closer anyway. Leon squeezed the envelope gently, feeling for anything solid, granular, or powdery inside. It felt mockingly light, as though it were entirely empty. He couldn't even hear the rustle of a sheet of paper within.

A grim suspicion began to take root, twisting inside him—how had this letter even found its way to his desk? Who had left it, and why?

The handmade stamp and the illustration were clear signs: the sender desperately wanted to remain anonymous, yet was eager to leave a personal signature. It felt like an invitation; if he accepted this one, another letter would surely follow. Holding his breath, Leon carefully broke the seal. But what unnerved him most of all was a sudden, creeping thought: from where, and how closely, was the sender watching him right now?

[rookieinglasses]

@dso-agent-kennedy

// hey! I just wanted to jump in here and let you know that I am not ignoring your starter, there has been a lot going on. College work mostly but I have your starter sitting in my drafts so I have been working on it.

I also would like to say that I hope you are having an amazing day and I love the way you are roleplaying Leon. It is a AU I have not seen before and I love the way that you are portraying it.

Thank you so much～⁠(⁠つ⁠ˆ⁠Д⁠ˆ⁠)⁠つ⁠｡⁠☆

Sending you positive vibes and strength ʕ⁠っ⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠ʔ⁠っ｡⁠☆

[rookieinglasses]

Glances at the Johnny Cash song, then back at you.

You trying to tell me something?

...You don't have to answer if you don't want to. Just... figured I'd ask how you're doing.

( @tiredfederalagent )

The semi-darkness of the room, and a blackness that broke against the dam of his hand pressed to his face. He weakly nudged his eyes, burned raw by sleeplessness, wishing he could squeeze out the blood that was pouring with the rain down into the storm drain. A golden rectangle of light loomed like a window into a world he didn't deserve—a world where he would instantly burn up, should he dare to step into it with the viscous shadow of doom trailing in his wake.His hands dropped. He let out a hoarse sniff and wiped his eyes with his index finger, as if erasing the wreckage of his own crash against a future rushing forward in utter hopelessness.

“Oh, sorry”

Ginger answered, looking no less bewildered than a schoolboy flushed out of a bathroom stall by the morning bell.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine… How are you holding up?”

[rookieinglasses]

:0 you like star wars too?

Yes, I love it🫂

I still rewatch the movies sometimes and collect some memorabilia, though a bit less lately... Either way, it’s a huge part of my childhood, and I'm always looking forward to new releases