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@vendetta-leon
𝙄 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙢𝙮 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙖𝙮…
It’s ya boi Rowan @emo-leonn back at it again with another blog.
Made this one cause I love Vendetta and I love Leon in the movie — he’s pretty relatable to me.
Once again, for rules check my main blog (that I tagged) and uhh yeah feel free to send asks anytime!
There’s a loud crash on the road outside of Chris’s house. Many moments later there’s knocking on the man’s door.
Leon was drunk, speeding around empty night streets on his motorcycle. No one needs to tell him that doing such things would very likely get him killed — he knows. Maybe that’s why he did it.
So now here he is, leaning up against the doorframe of Chris’s house. He’s covered in bruises and cuts with a hand pressed to his bleeding abdomen, a shard of metal sticking out from where a piece of his bike broke off.
@vendetta-leon
Of course there's bullshit happening on his week off, no rest for the wicked, huh?
Chris groans as he opens the door tiredly, immediately changing his attitude when his brain registers just what the hell he's looking at.
"Oh- what the fuck, Leon. You got a deathwish or something?" He admonishes while helping the man inside, flicking the lightswitch on with a part of him hoping Leon is too out of it to notice the state of his apartment.
"This work related, or 'I'm a passively suicidal dumbass' related? I never know with you, y'know."
...He's not good with words and feelings, alright? Only person he's ever been sappy with is Claire, but he really does care, he promises.
Leon chuckles despite himself, immediately regretting the action as he winces, coughing up blood. He wants to say ‘neither’, but he knows that’d be a lie. So he says this instead: “What do you think?”
Chris doesn’t need to answer. They both know it’s the latter.
Grimacing, he helps Leon onto the couch, gingerly peeling his shirt away to get a better look at the wound.
"You got any clue how deep that is?" He asks, pushing lightly around the shard embedded in his abdomen. "Don't wanna risk you bleeding out on my couch if I pull it- don't exactly wanna leave it either, but I'd guess neither of us wants a trip to the hospital at this time at night."
Leon hisses through gritted teeth, letting his head fall back against the couch as Chris prods at his wound.
“I… I don’t think it’s too deep. Just yank it and.. a-and stitch the wound,” he groans out through panting breaths.
He briefly gives a disappointed look before making his way into the kitchen to fish out a first aid kit from under the sink.
His whole life has been picking battles- and arguing with a man that's actively in pain and bleeding is not one of them.
"You gotta get this checked out by someone that knows what they're doing, alright? My hands are better suited to tearing shit apart more than putting it together."
He preps the needle and thread first, cleaning it with alcohol before setting it to one side so he can carefully pull the shard of metal out from Leon's abdomen, immediately pressing a bundle of gauze against the blood that begins spurting out.
It's a little...difficult, trying to sew with one hand while the other keeps pressure on the wound and Leon (very understandably) squirms around in pain, but he does manage it after a few agonising minutes, cleaning up the area and wrapping it with dressing and a bandage.
Leon nods. “I will, I promise,” he mutters — which they both know means he won’t.
He grips onto the couch cushions when Chris begins tending to his wound, biting his tongue as he looks off to the side. He tries his best to hold still, but you’re bound to move a bit when getting a metal shard pulled out of your body and getting the hole stitched up with no anesthetic of any kind.
When Chris is finished tending to the wound Leon relaxes a bit, letting out a shaky breath. He stands up, groaning as he grips onto the arm of the couch. “Thank you, Chris..”
There’s a loud crash on the road outside of Chris’s house. Many moments later there’s knocking on the man’s door.
Leon was drunk, speeding around empty night streets on his motorcycle. No one needs to tell him that doing such things would very likely get him killed — he knows. Maybe that’s why he did it.
So now here he is, leaning up against the doorframe of Chris’s house. He’s covered in bruises and cuts with a hand pressed to his bleeding abdomen, a shard of metal sticking out from where a piece of his bike broke off.
@vendetta-leon
Of course there's bullshit happening on his week off, no rest for the wicked, huh?
Chris groans as he opens the door tiredly, immediately changing his attitude when his brain registers just what the hell he's looking at.
"Oh- what the fuck, Leon. You got a deathwish or something?" He admonishes while helping the man inside, flicking the lightswitch on with a part of him hoping Leon is too out of it to notice the state of his apartment.
"This work related, or 'I'm a passively suicidal dumbass' related? I never know with you, y'know."
...He's not good with words and feelings, alright? Only person he's ever been sappy with is Claire, but he really does care, he promises.
Leon chuckles despite himself, immediately regretting the action as he winces, coughing up blood. He wants to say ‘neither’, but he knows that’d be a lie. So he says this instead: “What do you think?”
Chris doesn’t need to answer. They both know it’s the latter.
Grimacing, he helps Leon onto the couch, gingerly peeling his shirt away to get a better look at the wound.
"You got any clue how deep that is?" He asks, pushing lightly around the shard embedded in his abdomen. "Don't wanna risk you bleeding out on my couch if I pull it- don't exactly wanna leave it either, but I'd guess neither of us wants a trip to the hospital at this time at night."
Leon hisses through gritted teeth, letting his head fall back against the couch as Chris prods at his wound.
“I… I don’t think it’s too deep. Just yank it and.. a-and stitch the wound,” he groans out through panting breaths.
There’s a loud crash on the road outside of Chris’s house. Many moments later there’s knocking on the man’s door.
Leon was drunk, speeding around empty night streets on his motorcycle. No one needs to tell him that doing such things would very likely get him killed — he knows. Maybe that’s why he did it.
So now here he is, leaning up against the doorframe of Chris’s house. He’s covered in bruises and cuts with a hand pressed to his bleeding abdomen, a shard of metal sticking out from where a piece of his bike broke off.
@vendetta-leon
Of course there's bullshit happening on his week off, no rest for the wicked, huh?
Chris groans as he opens the door tiredly, immediately changing his attitude when his brain registers just what the hell he's looking at.
"Oh- what the fuck, Leon. You got a deathwish or something?" He admonishes while helping the man inside, flicking the lightswitch on with a part of him hoping Leon is too out of it to notice the state of his apartment.
"This work related, or 'I'm a passively suicidal dumbass' related? I never know with you, y'know."
...He's not good with words and feelings, alright? Only person he's ever been sappy with is Claire, but he really does care, he promises.
Leon chuckles despite himself, immediately regretting the action as he winces, coughing up blood. He wants to say ‘neither’, but he knows that’d be a lie. So he says this instead: “What do you think?”
Chris doesn’t need to answer. They both know it’s the latter.
I got nipples on my titties, big as the end of my thumb
I got somethin' between my legs'll make a dead man come
Oh daddy, baby won't you shave 'em dry?
Now, draw it out!
Want you to grind me baby, grind me until I cry
What
What in the actual fuck?
I need another fucking bottle after seeing this. What the hell.
Put the bottle down, Kennedy.
What’s your problem, Redfield?
I got nipples on my titties, big as the end of my thumb
I got somethin' between my legs'll make a dead man come
Oh daddy, baby won't you shave 'em dry?
Now, draw it out!
Want you to grind me baby, grind me until I cry
What
What in the actual fuck?
I need another fucking bottle after seeing this. What the hell.
There’s a loud crash on the road outside of Wesker’s house. Many moments later the sound is followed up by a knock on the door.
Leon is leaning up against the doorframe of the unknown house, a hand pressed to his bleeding abdomen with his head hanging low. He’s covered in cuts and bruises, and he reeks of whiskey.
He was drunk, speeding down empty night streets on his motorcycle. No one needs to tell him that doing something like that will surely get him killed — he knows. Maybe that’s why he did it.
So now here he is, bike wrecked outside of this stranger’s house, a large metal shard sticking out of his abdomen. A piece of the bike had broken off and pierced him in the fall.
@vendetta-leon
At first, he assumes it's a joke. A prank, even — surely a pack of DSO agents is about to jump from the bushes, surround him. Or perhaps its a very strange dream.
"You are not the postman, are you?" He drawls, eyes slowly dipping down to the bloodied spot growing on the man's shirt, then up to the wobbling blonde. He reeks of alcohol, and now there's an undercurrent of blood as well.
He should simply close the door — leave Leon S. Kennedy to die miserably on his doorstep. But that would bring unwanted attentions to himself, wouldn't it? Finding a man dead on his doorstep — and he knows some of his neighbors have security cameras. He'd be seen. Recorded as well. That would make him complicit.
He was hoping he could do without moving on from this location for just a bit longer. He supposes that plan is, of course, ruined now, because as soon as Agent Kennedy is no longer a drunken mess, he'll attempt to arrest him.
Wesker opens his door a bit wider, saying nothing to the agent to beckon him inside if he wishes. Or perhaps he'll turn tail and run. That might just make things easier for him, he supposes.
Leon’s eyes widen when he sees who opens the door — Albert Wesker. He’s half tempted to leave, find someplace else to go. But he doubts he’ll make it that far.
While his reckless driving might’ve been an attempt to end his own life, there’s still an innate, animal part of his brain that screams for survival. So he stumbles into Wesker’s house, nearly collapsing onto the floor.
Send 🧪 for my muse to take a truth serum and have to answer any question honestly from your muse.
Specify for multi muse blogs.
funny lil joke that got akira-d into my head some days ago.
and the beautiful thing is that due to the rather short timeframe between vendetta(peak depression leon) and death island(the silliest of goofers leon) this is canon to me in my heart.
during this i realised i need to have like. a proper unified way to draw all these characters so im working on that next ig.
(version of the last panel without the text and filter below)
Vendetta Muse:
God damn got that right. I succeed with my alcohol consumption.
Damn right. Cheers.
“Hell yeah,” Leon says before raising your a whiskey bottle in ‘cheers’ before chugging some of it. “I’ve succeeded at this for years.”
“We’re very talented.”
Leon laughs. “Yeah, we are aren’t we?”
Wesker? What the fuck, I thought you were dead!
@vendetta-leon
Thought? Or hoped?
I would expect the latter more from your friend Chris.
Leon shrugs. “I’m not sure if I’d say I hoped you were. I was just surprised to see you still alive, considering what happened at that volcano.”
Hey, another Chris! Nice to see ya
@vendetta-leon
"Another?" You seein' double, Kennedy?
Leon chuckles as he rolls his eyes. “For once, no. In this universe there’s multiple of you.”
Leon stumbles his way back into his apartment, whiskey bottle in hand. He’s so tipsy he forgets to lock his door when he shuts it behind him.
He heads over to his couch and plops down onto it, kicking his feet up and turning on the tv. He’s not even paying attention to the show as he swigs from his bottle.
The rat that was sleeping under his bed sneaked to the living room, it was still tired, but now it was hungry
It walked slowly, trying not to startle Leon
Leon takes another swig of whiskey before setting the bottle down on the coffee table. As he does he looks down and sees the rat walking out into the living room.
“Hey little guy. You hungry?” Leon asks with a soft smile.
"..yeah.. I haven't eaten in a few days."
It walked over to the couch and stood up on its back legs, its nose twitching as it sniffed at Leon and noticed the smell of alcohol
"Do you have any crackers?"
Leon nods as he stands. “Yeah, I’ve got crackers. I’ll get em.” He pauses for a moment, looking down at the rat.
“I’m just gonna set you on the coffee table so you can eat there, okay?” He says before gently picking up the rat and placing it down on the table.
He heads into the kitchen and soon returns with a sleeve of crackers, tearing it open before setting it down in front of the rat.
VENDETTA LEON
𝘐 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘐’𝘥 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦.
𝘕𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺
RE: Vendetta
— COMMS OPEN!
funny lil joke that got akira-d into my head some days ago.
and the beautiful thing is that due to the rather short timeframe between vendetta(peak depression leon) and death island(the silliest of goofers leon) this is canon to me in my heart.
during this i realised i need to have like. a proper unified way to draw all these characters so im working on that next ig.
(version of the last panel without the text and filter below)
Vendetta Muse:
God damn got that right. I succeed with my alcohol consumption.
Damn right. Cheers.
“Hell yeah,” Leon says before raising your a whiskey bottle in ‘cheers’ before chugging some of it. “I’ve succeeded at this for years.”
(Stolen from @the-expatriate; I beg you all to try this for your muses)
Ah… hmmm…
Interesting.
I uh… don’t know how I feel about this result.
Another thing I've drawn for a fanfic I'm writing. Excuse my art style being all over the place, I'm experimenting! Bonus points if someone can guess the breed
Aw, I’d love to have an Irish wolfhound.
