#even sherry ships them
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smart blonde woman who can kick ass and was associated with an evil organization in the past + her boyfriend who has killed lots of people and is the only one that can save the world Duo
#yeah i ship lucy n desmond i miss them :(#will never understand why they went with the plot twist of ber secretly being a templar even tho they never#hinted at that in any of the games it was so sudden n weird#i loved lucy :((#jake muller#sherry birkin#desmond miles#lucy stillman#resident evil 6#assassin's creed
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To Sail Forbidden Seas ~ Chapter 1
Synopsis: After a long voyage, Yi Sang and Heathcliff seek shelter.
Ship: The Adventure of Wuthering Heights
Words: ~2330
Warnings: alcohol; a physical altercation between characters; food
“It’s not much further, now,” Yi Sang said, glancing over his shoulder at his companion, who ambled along behind him, his head hung low as he clutched at the ragged cloak concealing his shoulders.
For a moment, Yi Sang’s gaze lingered on his friend’s hand, eyes silently tracing the tattoos inked into his scarred flesh, then he shook himself, turning to point at an inn down the road.
“There it is—Thames Landing … you’ll be safe there.”
His partner slowly lifted his head, eyes gleaming beneath his hood as he quietly studied the building Yi Sang indicated—it was a quaint, two-story structure, built from shabby wooden planks. The slanted roof had been bleached by the sun, and a makeshift fence, cobbled together from bits of driftwood, encircled the building. It was simple, almost rustic, in presentation.
“This place … good. Has charm.” The man spoke slowly, his sentences short, but each word was firm. Still, his brow furrowed, and he cast a questioning glance towards Yi Sang. “Safe … you sure?”
Yi Sang nodded, smiling as he motioned for his companion to follow him down the road. “At ease, my friend … I promise you Mycroft Holmes won’t lambast you with questions—aside from those pertaining to your stay, of course.”
The pair halted in front of the inn, and the man lifted his gaze to the sign hanging above the door. Even in the semi-darkness, he could make out a series of white letters that spelled out the inn’s name, the words painted to resemble a bridge arching over a dark band of water.
“Now, Heathcliff,” Yi Sang said softly, drawing his companion’s attention back to him, “while I can guarantee the Holmes siblings won’t object to you residing here, I cannot say the same for their other patrons—many of them are unscrupulous fellows, you see … the shameless, deceitful sort who’d sell you out in a heartbeat.”
His friend nodded solemnly. “Then I stay under cloak. Until you sort things out.”
Yi Sang smiled sadly, his fingers settling on the door handle. “Yes … I do believe that’s for the best.”
Taking a deep breath, Yi Sang threw the door open, and Heathcliff blinked as warm, golden light spilled onto the street. Hushed conversations tickled Heathcliff’s ears, and he reached to pull his hood over his eyes before following Yi Sang inside, quietly studying his surroundings from beneath his cloak. Wooden chandeliers hung from the ceiling, providing ample light for those below, and a massive fire blazed in the hearth built into the far wall. A large, bubbling kettle was suspended above the flame, the steam rising from the cauldron carrying a mouthwatering aroma that reached Heathcliff’s nostrils from the doorway, causing his stomach to growl.
“This way.” Yi Sang motioned for Heathcliff to follow as he approached the bar, flagging down the man behind the counter. “Mycroft! Can I trouble you for a moment?”
The bartender glanced up from the glass he was drying, his face brightening when he recognized Yi Sang. “Well, well … if it isn’t the first mate of the Pequod, himself! To whom do I owe the pleasure?”
“The pleasure’s all mine—though, you could raise a toast to Captain Ishmael, if you so desired.” Yi Sang smiled, settling onto a barstool as Heathcliff melted into the corner. “She led us on yet another successful hunt.”
“Ah … Sherry did mention something about her going after another Whale …�� Mycroft set the glass in front of Yi Sang, then reached beneath the counter for a bottle of whiskey, proceeding to pour the sailor a drink. “Now, what exactly can I get for you?”
“Well … my companion and I were looking to room here for the evening …”
Heathcliff exhaled slowly, tuning out the conversation as he scanned the inn—men crowded around large, rickety tables scattered throughout the dining room, swapping stories and downing tankards of liquor. Oftentimes, the amber liquid missed its mark, sloshing onto the floor, instead.
The harpooneer snorted, and was turning his gaze back towards the bar when something—nay, someone—caught his eye: a woman, the hem of her periwinkle gown trailing along the soiled floorboards, circled the tables, unimpeded by the sailors stumbling around her. She cut through the intoxicated mob like a ship through the Waves, her tawny hair streaming behind her as she weaved between toppled stools and unconscious men, scooping up dirty dishes as she passed.
Something about the way she carried herself intrigued Heathcliff—despite the chaos unfolding around her, she remained calm and collected, tending to her clients’ every need without complaint.
He shrank further into the corner as she drew near, his eyes dropping to the floor until she’d swept past. As her footsteps faded, Heathcliff slowly lifted his head, staring after her.
“Oi! You, there! You’re not ogling that lass, are you?”
Heathcliff flinched, shrinking back into the corner as one of the sailors staggered to his feet, scowling at the harpooneer. “Did not mean to stare,” he mumbled, lowering his gaze.
“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t,” the man growled, lurching towards Heathcliff, who drew his cloak tighter around his shoulders. “But you were, weren’t you? Bet you’re thinkin’ you have a shot with her, too.”
“Was not,” Heathcliff muttered, pressing his back against the wall as the man stumbled closer.
“What was that?” The sailor came to a stop a few feet away from the harpooneer, his face set in an ugly sneer. “Speak up, you bastard—no one can understand you when you’re mumbling.”
Heathcliff grit his teeth. “Said, ‘was not.’ You need your ears checked.”
“You think you’re clever, eh? You wouldn’t be talkin’ like that if you knew who I was.”
“Do not care who you are. Go away. Want to be alone.”
“Do you? Well, you should’ve thought about that before you started makin’ eyes at the lass … now you’ve gotta pay the price.”
The sailor lunged forward with surprising speed, and Heathcliff raised an arm, barely blocking his fist. Swearing, the man struck out with his free hand, clawing at the edge of Heathcliff’s cloak, and the harpooneer hissed, attempting to squirm away, but it was no use—his assailant caught hold of his robe, grinning as he tore it from Heathcliff’s shoulders.
But his smile faded as the cloak fluttered to the floor, his eyes widening in horror as he noticed the tattoos inked on Heathcliff’s skin. “By the Wing’s … you’re … you’re …”
An uncomfortable silence fell over the inn as everyone stared at Heathcliff—at the markings covering every inch of his exposed flesh.
“You’re from … the Middle …” The sailor stumbled backwards, clasping his hands before starting to beg. “P-please … spare me—I didn’t mean any of it, I swear!”
Heathcliff lowered his head. “Tattoos from Middle, yes. But I … I not with them. Not anymore.”
The sailor blinked, his brow furrowing. Then, he straightened, his sneer returning. “You left the Middle? Isn’t that some kind of taboo?”
Heathcliff said nothing, and the man laughed as whispers passed through the crowd.
“Silence speaks louder than words, or so they say,” he said, grinning. “So, you ran out on the Middle, fully knowing the consequences … I wonder, just how much are they offerin’ for you?”
The sailor glanced at the men behind him, still smiling.
“Perhaps we should see about turning you in—we could use some extra cash, right boys?”
Murmurs of agreement echoed behind him, and the sailor, emboldened, grabbed Heathcliff’s wrist.
“Right, then … I’m goin’ to need your name—I’ll be givin’ it to the Middle, you know.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort.”
The man blinked as a voice rang out from across the room, and Heathcliff lifted his head, his heart skipping a beat when he saw a woman striding towards them, her eyes flashing.
“Sh-Sherry …” the sailor stammered, stumbling backward. “I-I’ve gotta do this, love—if the Middle were to find out your brother was hiding this man, they’d kill him …”
“The Middle isn’t going to find out we’re serving this gentleman,” the woman replied icily. “You aren’t going to breathe a word about him to anyone. Right?”
“B-but … this is to pro—”
“Right?”
The man flinched as she cut him off, eyes dropping to his feet. “Right.”
“That’s what I thought.” She folded her arms, nodding towards the door. “Now, leave, Victor. You’ve harassed my clients enough for one evening, and I shan’t tolerate your indecency a moment longer.”
“Sherry, I—”
“Leave. Now.”
Her words were like thunder, ringing clearly through the silent inn, and a shiver shot up Heathcliff’s spine as the sailor whimpered, slinking away. The woman watched him leave, then turned to the throng of men behind her, scowling.
“As for the rest of you … I trust you know what’ll happen if I find you’ve sold this man out?”
A chorus of soft “ayes” rippled through the crowd, and she nodded.
“Good—as you were, gentlemen.”
With that, the men exchanged glances, some smiling, others shaking their heads, before resuming their conversations. The woman knelt down, retrieving Heathcliff’s cloak from the floor and gently dusting it off before draping it over his shoulders.
“My sincerest apologies, sir … I do hope your stay hasn’t been spoiled by Victor’s poor conduct.”
Heathcliff blinked, unable to tear his gaze away from her face—she was even prettier up close than she had been from afar, with sharp, angular eyes whose color reminded him of the sea at midday.
“Your eyes … like ocean.” He said finally, his words soft. “Very pretty.”
She studied him for a moment, then smiled. “Thank you.”
Warmth bloomed in Heathcliff’s chest as the woman fussed with his cloak, straightening it so his tattoos were hidden. After a moment, she stepped back, lifting her eyes to meet his.
“Now, then … how may I serve you, this evening?”
Again, Heathcliff blinked, his gaze dropping to the floor as he mumbled a response. “Came for room. Yi Sang … said it was safe here. Said Holmes siblings … accept me. As guest.”
“Ah … then you’ll need to speak to my brother, Mycroft.” She nodded towards the bar. “He’ll see to preparing your lodgings.”
“Yi Sang said … he’d handle it.” Heathcliff murmured, shuffling back into the corner. “So, I wait.”
“Is that so?” the woman frowned, brow furrowing. “Well, if you have any trouble, do let me know—I’ll do everything in my power to ensure your stay is a pleasant one.”
She offered him a curtsy, then melted back into the crowd, leaving Heathcliff staring after her.
“So … my sister’s caught your eye, has she?”
The harpooneer started, turning his head to find the bartender studying him curiously—only then did Heathcliff notice his sharp, angular eyes. “Your eyes … shaped like hers.”
Mycroft nodded, setting down the glass he was drying. “That’s about the only feature we share, it seems … well, aside from one peculiar faculty unique to our family, that is.”
“Heathcliff …” Yi Sang spoke softly, unable to meet his friend’s gaze. “I … I failed you. I shouldn’t have allowed that man to expose you, and yet …”
“You have not failed me,” Heathcliff said. “You promised me a safe place, and this place … is safe. Even after seeing my tattoos, I am welcomed. Like you promised.”
Yi Sang was quiet for a moment, then cleared his throat, rising to his feet. “Mycroft has generously arranged for us to reside in separate lodgings—and he’s providing dinner, on the house.”
“My sister will see to it you’re fed,” Mycroft said, chuckling softly. “Your friend’s in for quite the treat, Yi Sang … Sherry’s serving her finest chowder, tonight.”
“Please inform her I’ll be dining in my quarters.”
“Of course … and how about you, sir?” Mycroft addressed Heathcliff, raising an eyebrow.
“Eat in room, like Yi Sang.”
“Very well, then.” Reaching beneath the counter, Mycroft produced a pair of brass keys, setting them on the counter. “Yi Sang, you’ll be staying in room 212—it’s the third door on the right. And, Heathcliff, you’ll be in room 201—first door on the left after you climb the stairs.”
“Thank you, Mycroft,” Yi Sang murmured, his fingers curling around one of the keys. “Your hospitality is sincerely appreciated.”
“As is your business,” the bartender replied, winking. “Enjoy your evening, gentlemen … and do let either Sherry or I know if you need anything.”
He bowed as they turned, making their way across the crowded dining hall. Heathcliff kept close to Yi Sang, eyeing the drunken mob warily as they approached the stairs.
“Heathcliff,” Yi Sang said softly as they climbed the creaking steps, “about what Mycroft said, before … you’d best tread with caution.”
The harpooneer blinked. “What do you mean?”
“The way you were looking at Sherry … if you truly do fancy her, you need to be careful. That man from earlier—the one who attacked you—he’s one of her admirers. And they don’t take kindly to competition from strangers, as you’ve no doubt come to realize yourself.”
“Was not staring for that reason,” Heathcliff muttered. “She stood out. Could not look away.”
Yi Sang sighed. “She does tend to have that effect … just be careful, alright?”
Heathcliff nodded as they reached the second-floor landing—ahead of them stretched a short corridor with four doors on each side, and they paused, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the gloom.
“Your room’s here,” Yi Sang said, motioning towards the door nearest to them. “If you need anything, you can always—”
“Call on you. I remember.” Heathcliff gently nudged his friend forward. “But I will not bother you. Not tonight. You need rest.”
Yi Sang stared at him for a moment, then his gaze softened as a smile spread over his face. “I shall get on that, then … and I am wishing you pleasant dreams, as well.”
Turning on his heel, Yi Sang vanished into the shadows, and Heathcliff released a slow sigh, his shoulders sagging as he unlocked the door leading to his chambers.
#alright ... here it is--the first chapter of the fic I've been working on in private for the past few months#I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it#AU: I Love to Sail Forbidden Seas 🔱#otp: the adventure of wuthering heights ⛈️🔍#r: remind my heart to beat 💢#p: one more time‚ let me try to fly 🪶#si: to a great mind‚ nothing is little 🤎#oc: [Mycroft tag]#cuddle up with a good book#scattered pages
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this is a list of moments where natsu is smart (but its also me yapping because i was getting bored waiting for every little instance) (episodes from 49 to 64)
- upon their first encounter with oracion seis, smelled them and alerted gray and everyone
- when carla told them that wendy's dragon, grandeeny, suddenly disappeared seven years ago, started connecting dots in his brain
- when fighting those bro-monkey goons, after getting shot at his back, simply incinerated bullets (were they physical? magical? anyways, cool)
- (look how friendly he is with erigor, meeting him after so long, how erigor is unnerved by it and gray is fucking done with him-)
- interrogated beat up goons about whereabouts of oracion seis' lair (sure, with erza-esque tactic "ask-punch-repeat", but at least he thought of it)
- (also, it must be their temporary place, but oracion seis' lair is so pathetic it's hysterical. we have grimoire heart with their cool-looking flying ship with mechanical heart, we have tartarus with their highly functional flying cube, and these have, like, a cave? where all your guild goon taxes went to? racer's motorcycles?)
- when natsu, wendy and cats reached fallen erza, he was quick to ask for help and point out that no matter what she may have done with jellal, erza really needed her help (well, not really smarts thing, but natsu's quick actions allowed wendy to finally pull herself together)
- when nirvana has activated its magic and sent a black light beam, natsu either sensed or figured that jellal was there were beam of nirvana is
- (okay, nirvana thingamagick has my respect for having nothing to do with zeref and co. but what was the point of its first stage, where people who are usually on one side of morals and are on the gray side for this moment, get their side of morals switched? sherry, who was grief stricken switched to attacking gray, wendy was nearing the switch with her guilt over jellal situation, but hibiki knocked her out, and hoteye was reminded of his time with his brother when fighting jura and he switched from being money-obsessed to being pacifist. very mixed bag of results if you ask me. hibiki later explained that the switching is controllable in final phase, but in the first one? is it more like a side effect of first stage for activating nirvana? prolly-)
- (lucy happy and carla saying that in case of switching natsu won't change much, and that he exists outside of framework of good and evil, they did NOT pull the punches, my favourite freak of the monster nature)
- (respect from me to angel, she summoned gemini for a prolonged period of time, and as far as i know they are rather magic-consuming, AND she was using her spirits cleverly, countering aquarius with scorpio and loki with aries)
- (also, gemini is such underappreciated spirit for how lucy moved their heart, damn)
- (and, like, uranometria is cool, but how did lucy even have enough magic power for it, if she was feeling weak after summoning in quick succession? eh, i'm nitpicking, but there is little else for me to do-)
- ("actually, i didn't die😒" sorano😭😭😭😭)
- (can you imagine a what-if "what if when wendy was travelling with mystogan, that anima that forced him to leave wendy never happened?" i mean, they look so much like siblings already, gosh-)
- (can you imagine being a kind hearted and optimistic kid in a god awful situation, and then getting brainwashed and manipulated into doing even more despicable thing, and later being freed from brainwashing and realising all the sins you've committed? god, take all the cramps from jellal and give them to, i dunno, brain)
- btw, when fighting cobra, was it natsu and happy's first on-screen airborne fight? mad respect for them and their team work!!!
- when fighting cobra, when he declared that he was going to stop nirvana, and cobra replied that he was not letting natsu near brain, natsu put two and two together and figured that it was brain who controlled nirvana
- when fighting cobra, he was rather fast in switching between tactics, first he just punched, second he tried rapid firing long ranged attacks, third he was hiding in ruins in ambush attack, then he fucking joked at cobra mentally and actually got him to laugh, happy even thought of faking their attacks. even cobra admitted that natsu was thinking a lot and that he had some not bad plans
- when fighting cobra, managed to get so into fight he was fighting without thinking, getting a couple of hits on cobra. that impressed cobra, leaving him to question whenever natsu is actually a genius or a total idiot, for he is seeing someone like that for the first time. hearing that cobra was a dragon slayer was what threw him out of that state
- got into cobra's close quarters, almost getting him to face a roar close up
- (they really only won because of natsu accidentally letting out an extra loud non-magical roar AND brain back-stabbing cobra)
- natsu, exhausted, poisoned, and motion sick, chomping into brain-
#ft#fairy tail#natsu dragneel#oracion seis arc#LISTEN#listen.#i adore this arc#it managed to be grand and menacing on a great scheme of things without being over the top#the fate of guilds peacful existence really depended only on those twelve#it also has no connection to zeref#that guy really needs to catch a break from all of these demons cults worshippers dark guilds bullshit#it also gave us a little sibling to a guy who was born to be a brother#natsu and wendy sibling relationship supremacy#it had great shots of natsu profile where his nose was looking rather straight#like greek sculpture's profile#is he greek?#is mildian or whatever place zeref and natsu are from is actually greece?#hmmmmm#rewatching fairy tail
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Hello there
I recently had a horrific argument because some people can’t let a ship just be a ship. I genuinely have my fun and love for Cleon and it getting attacked was too much. However the person I got into a fight with also told me to count up 3 reasons why they should work. And I couldn’t believe that I had to think about it and it took longer than it should have. Out of curiosity…if you had to count up three reasons what would it be?
Hello!
I'm pretty sure I've already answered a question like this at some point, or at least the answer is spread out somewhere in several of my posts over the last 3 years.
But don't worry, I will try to make a short summary of the 3 things about Cleon that would make them work as a couple:
1.They have a lot in common.
Although their work occupies most of Leon and Claire's lives, through the franchise they have shown very similar everyday interests and hobbies:
Such as love for motorcycles. Capcom made Leon and Claire the official bikers of the franchise, always putting little references here and there in games and movies;
Their whole style. The taste for custom leather jackets, obviously, but also many other alternative outfits. Believe me, of almost all of Claire's costumes, Leon has one somewhere to match.
Even the same kind of sense of humor, with similar one liners, bad good jokes and literary references that I posted here many times before;
It would be easy to imagine what their life together would be like outside of work, on a daily basis with so much in common and the banter they have when they are together.
2.They have the same morals.
Despite following different paths in the fight against bioterrorism, Leon and Claire carry the same code on how to act in certain situations:
Like the idea that both have already stated about not giving up the fight in the name of their comrades who died alongside them (Damnation, Heavenly Island);
The strong will to protect those in need, like Sherry, Ashley and others, no matter how impossible the mission seems or what has to be done;
Not blindly believing in something and always questioning and digging deep when something doesn't feel right (Degeneration, Infinite Darkness);
Trying to understand all sides of the situation and even sympathizing with some of the villains they faced (Annette, Rodrigo, Jason, Buddy, Dr. Taylor and more);
Along with many others, sharing these characteristics can bring stability to their relationship. Having them always on the same page, knowing what each one stands for.
3.They can understand each other.
Besides the shared trauma in Raccoon City, Leon and Claire went through very similar traumatic events even on different missions years apart and, in one way or another, felt the same type of pain:
Being kidnapped, infected and subjected to a race against time to save themselves and others (RE4 and REvelations 2);
Having to see their superiors whom they trusted (and are somewhat emotionally involved) become monsters obsessed with power. (Neil and Krauser)
Being used, mistreated and framed... Leon by the government and its corruption; Claire (along with terrasave) by willpharma and later on by Neil and the FBC;
Witnessing friends sacrifice themselves for them... some even in a very similar way: like Gabe and Mike exploding in a helicopter while Claire and Leon can only watch;
Don't get me wrong, a lot of RE characters have trauma and they all can bond through that, it's undeniable. But here, about Leon and Claire, I'm not just talking about "what happened and their reaction", but also HOW it happened and the physical and psychological similarities of each event for them. As if the narrative chooses to create parallels between them.
And this opens the door for a deep interactions (like the one in Degeneration) that can add new layers to their relationship and find comfort in each other.
Now just let me give you a little bonus (because I would like to write a lot more, but that is already too far from the short summary I promised)
4.Their amazing chemistry.
Haters will always try to deny it (and that's expected since they are haters), but the chemistry between Leon and Claire is great.
Not just the way they look and smile at each other, but how they act together and how they care for each other. I mean, Capcom didn't write scenes like Claire's big smile when she sees that Leon is okay, or Leon giving up of himself for Claire's safety, or them flirting cracking jokes in the middle of a zombie outbreak, or running and screaming each of their name in despair as soon as they see the other is injured for nothing.
It's to highlight their chemistry. The chemistry they are writing for Cleon.
Again, haters will always deny it, because it's inconvenient for them, but it's there.
Leon and Claire love and care for each other deeply, they can have fun hobbies, overcome hardships and find comfort together. The entire basis for a healthy relationship is there, written by the devs at Capcom themselves.
We just need to wait and see what they do with it.
#claire redfield#leon kennedy#ask#cleon#claire x leon#leon x claire#resident evil#resident evil infinite darkness#resident evil death island#resident evil degeneration#resident evil 2#resident evil darkside chronicles
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@fishfingersalad it’s almost 2am but i can’t sleep and ts probably only going to be seen by like 5 people anyway so let it rip
this au started out as a self indulgent pocket sized au that I ignore as all my aus do…..then I couldn’t sleep and started imagining things im good at that. it started as an au I could do ship focus on and well I love lore I guess. despite all this the main story still focuses on my blorbos. maybe I will make a storyline for the main cast, if I can imagine things again
one day, all across (abridged) America (this is why I made that carolina/puerto rico/dc post btw), 50 children, each for 1 state, pop up at the same time, with varying ages, mostly tween years but with some variation up and down. while some are humanoid creatures, others are completely monstrous and lack sentience. however, they all share one common factor: a tag identifying what state they came from. The majority of the sentient ones assume this is their name, and that’s why they run with it.
conspiracy theorists and cryptid fans nationwide take notice of a bunch of shit happening overnight and develop “The 50” list. depending on if it’s commonly agreed upon what monster you are and if it’s commonly agreed upon what state you’re from, you’ll be ranked higher or lower on the list, with, of course, the highest ranking being the most sought after and hidden. Most of the higher tiered creatures are humanoid; it’s easier to blend in if you don’t look out of place
i forgot to mention Btw it’s like. myths and legends and shit too. i mentioned york being the pied Piper I also think the implication that the pied Piper is a monster is funny. also only one monster per person and
ofc my blorbos…….Everyone run now!!!! Ohio has just moved to a new city yay go girl But her coworkers are fucked up!!! There’s this bitch Sherry that she may or may not have a crush on and like her two little friends who absolutely know that. but Watch out there’s a freaky green man It’s Georgia her old friend Georgia. they were their first freelancer friends but geo Loves making deals for souls slash servitude slash their power slash take over the world slash he doesn’t know what souls are and neither do I. but they gotta be normal and not fight in the office.!!! And fight outside of a Walmart at 2 instead. he’s kinda bad at it though which is why only Ohio cares.
anywya Sherry keeps running into Ohio and Georgia fighting and you know Ohio’s kind of like. well if you see her when she’s not masking you’ll probably go insane huh. so Ohio has to keep wiping her memories and Sherry’s getting CRAZY deja vu.
this is so stressful Good thing Ohio’s got her trusty friends Iowa and Idaho!!! They’re causing chaos somewhere else but she’s always texting them and video chatting. hopefully they can meet up again soon!!
Utah is a paranormal investigator and currently georgia’s only the only person who’s currently made a deal with him. he’s made past deals but Ohio scared them off by ‘Do Not Be Afraid’ing them. it’s either that or they have to get killed lest the green fuck get too powerful and Ohio would rather not do that thanks. utah doesn’t even get anything in return he just wants to know wtf is going on tbh. Georgia stays at his apartment because he’s a squatter I guess
well That’s too bad I guess I can’t share any more because they’re just plotpoints. hey do you wanna know what the other freelancers are
Ohio: Angel (duh. So low because when she spawned she was literally in the middle of a bunch of people and blinded them with her corporeal form)
Georgia: Demon (the devil but literally this time. manages to be a little higher due to being able to teleport short distances. Stayed a little too close to home base, though.)
Iowa: Harpy (kept flying in the air like a dumbass everyone fucking saw him. denialists claim it to be a big bird. and they’re right.)
Idaho: Werewolf (he didn’t know until a full moon came out. oops.)
Carolina: Siren (keeps the bad singing voice.)
York: pied piper….
Wash: Shapeshifter
Florida: Alien (when he came on the fated day he rode in on a meteor instead of plopping in, breaking off the state from the rest of the US. its highly debated on whether or not the meteor itself was the creature.)
Maine: Bigfoot (but he shaves his whole body every day so he just looks like a big guy)
Connie: Kitsune
Wyoming: Fairy (despite being obvious, no one fuckinh lives in wyoming so he just flew far away immediately. fucks up the rankings of others by being spotted far away from his state.)
North: The Sandman (Both spawned across from eachother at the 2 state’s borders. They immediately declared eachother twins.)
South: Mare/Dream Eater (Their high ranking is very dependent on the confusion on which twin is which, since they work together to sleep and then feast.)
Tex: Ghost
you may see here I did not include Utah Did I forget No No No (kinda) I have an idea for what he is but i don’t intent to reveal it ever really. idk how id incorporate that. jsut know I searched really hard to find a creature that wasn’t a ghost that disrupted electromagnetic fields so that every time he went ghost hunting the machines would go off causing him to assert there was a ghost there. but no alas I did not find that
ok tahts it I think. for now. maybe. if you have any ideas for this background fucks wise or rnbs wise I would like them. for meThanks goodnight im gonna pass blout Out Out
#rvb#red vs blue#txt#at/dw#maybe I will talk about my other aus someday. oh my god they’re so neglected
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Just a random Disney AU idea
Deep in the Indian jungle, Shere Khan, the mighty tiger, strides through the undergrowth. His mind, as ever, is focused on getting his hands on the man-cub Mowgli. He has proven elusive so far... but Shere Khan is a hunter. He knows how to bide his time... All he needs is a trail to follow, and then-
His musings are interrupted by rustling in the bushes. He turns to the sudden sound... and sees Bagheera, the Panther, leap out between the trees, with a weirdly panicked look in his eyes. Shere Khan prepares to pounce, when Bagheera notices him, and stops, catching his breath.
"Shere Khan! You..." He's panting heavily "You need to get out of here!" "Oho" the tiger chuckles "You mean to order me around, Bagheera? How quaint. Now, as tempted as I am to agree, how about you instead tell me where that man-cub has gone, and I promise I'll let you leave in more or less one piece" He punctuates his threat by baring his teeth in a sinister grin.
Bagheera just stares at him, and then slowly moves closer "No, Shere Khan. You don't get it. I'm not trying to order you, I'm actually trying to warn you. you need to leave. You have NO idea what's coming! There's a ship down at the beach." "HA!" Shere Khan throws his head back in a scornful laugh "A ship, you say? Some measly humans come for a pleasure cruise? Then maybe I should give them a proper welcome!" He saunters away, flicking his tail in mockery at the still panicked Bagheera.
"No! You don't understand!" The panthers protestations trail off as Shere Khan moves swiftly towards the beach. First the man-cub dares to intrude, and now a bunch of tourists think the jungle will be their playground? No, this will not stand. It's time for the humans to learn to respect the lord of the jungle. Finally, he arrives at at the edge of the forest, his mind swirling with deliciously sinister ways to make these tourists pay for intruding. It doesn't take him long to see the ship Bagheera talked about. A handsomely sized pleasure cruise. Not even a packing ship or something. And on deck, a couple of figures are sitting around. Easy prey to a hunter of his caliber. All he needs to do is wait for nightfall, and they will become his...
Meanwhile, aboard the ship, one of the figures, a tall, middle aged woman in a burgundy summer dress, is sitting in a deck chair, sipping on a glass of sherry.
"For the love of God, Mim, would you stop hiding under that parasol like a child. A little sun won't hurt you." Her voice is sharp and with the slightest hint of an accent to it, and she's turns to look at a short stocky woman, with an unruly mop lavender hair, is sitting in underneath a big umbrella, her arms folded and her snub nosed face contorted in a frustrated scowl. The stocky woman glares at her.
"That's easy for you to say Tremaine. You know I hate the sun! I'm used to nice overcast skies!" Her voice is surprisingly high for her size. "Are you sure I can't make just one little rain cloud? A bit of thunder and-"
"Don't you dare!" they both turn to look at another figure, a woman with sickly complexion and a face covered in wrinkles, lying in a deck chair, dressed in a flamboyant headress and wearing a thin, purple one piece bathing suit. She pulls down her oversized sunglasses, and looks at Mim "This is the first decent weather we've had all week, and I'm finally starting to feel at home." Mim gives them both a weary sigh "Well, I was told we would go to the deepest darkest jungles, Yzma! I was expecting snakes and salamanders and all kinds of lovely creepy crawlies! Had I known this is what we'd be doing, I never would have agreed to come!" She looks to the sky, scowling again. "Oooh, if only I was back in my nice, damp, muggy cabin, instead of here on this... sunny pleasant tropical beach! I can almost feel my sinuses clear up! It's awful!"
Tremaine rolls her eyes "Well, if you're lucky, there might be some horrible parasites in the waters here, or some flying pests with rabies..."
Mim looks at her with an almost wistful look "You really think so?"
Suddenly, the doors to the cabin open, and a thick, noxious cloud of cigarette smoke billows out.
"Come on, Mim, cheer up. I've talked to the captain, and he tells us we're finally here!" The woman struts out onto the deck, revealing a tall, almost skeletally skinny figure, holding a foul smelling cigarette in a long mouthpiece. Her hair is parted in the middle, one side black and the other white, and she's wearing a black-and-white two piece bikini, underneath a zebra-themed bathrobe, hanging loosely over her gaunt frame. She takes a deep breath, taking in the smell of the jungle, and walks over to the railing, looking at greenery in front of her.
"I've been looking forward to this for over two months, girls. We've travelled halfway across the world to get here, and now we're so close to our goal!"
Tremaine gets up and strolls up to the woman. "Your goal, you mean? I just came for the chance of a tropical vacation, myself. I still think we should have gone to the riviera, myself. Though I guess this is a more rational choice than that coat made of dog fur you were talking about"
The skinny woman waves her hand, dismissingly "Yes, yes, that was just a passing whim. I thought it might be the next big thing, but fashion is a fickle world, it seems. I forgot the cardinal rule of high fashion: Unusual is good. Exclusive is better."
Tremaine leans onto the railing, gazing at the jungle. "So you decided to bring us all across the world, just for the sake of you getting a new fur coat? Look, Cruella, I don't mind the vacation, but it seems a bit... excessive, don't you think?"
"Well, what's the fun in just buying a pelt in from a supplier? No, I want the most exclusive, and money is no object here"
Shere Khan listens intently, and chuckles to himself. A bunch of pampered socialites, coming all this way, just to get themselves a pelt? Well, if it's a wild beast they want, that's what they'll get. He gives the stocky woman a hungry smile. The others are all a bit too lean, but he'll savor that one. Should he save her for last, or maybe take her first, just to see the others scream in terror? He smiles to himself as he turns back into the jungle, to find a place to wait. Just you wait, ladies. Soon, you'll get what you're after and more. Just you-
Suddenly the air is pierced by Cruella putting two fingers in her mouth and giving out a sharp whistle. Yzma sits up with a start, and Mim falls off her chair, clasping her hands over her ears. Shere Khan turns around as well at the sudden noise.
The next moment, the door on the side of the ship is kicked open with a loud metallic klank. Three figures emerge from the ship and walk out onto the beach. One of them, apparently the leader, turns around and looks up at Cruella from under the brim of his large slouch hat. He gives her a toothy grin.
"Gentlemen! I've hired you because I wanted the three best hunters money could buy, and from what I've hear, that's you. Now, I'm paying you handsomely to get me what I want, and I expect to get my moneys worth. Do I make myself clear?"
"It's clear as rain, Lady!" The man's voice is hoarse and gravely, but also filled with excitement. "Me and the boys'll get ya what ya want, so long as the moolah's good!"
The second man, a broadchested man in a pale safari suit, surveys the jungle in front of him, ponderingly stroking his thin black moustache. "Agreed. I had my fair share of experience with jungles. This shouldn't be much of a problem at all."
The third man, equally muscular, with a large blunderbuss slung over his shoulders, stretches his muscles, which strain under the shor sleeved red shirt he's wearing. he strokes back his long black hair and adjusts the band keeping it in a ponytail. "Of course not, Clayton. Why would it be a problem? I'm here, aren't I?"
Cruella gives them a satisfied smile, as Yzma and Mim walk over to the railing, next to Tremaine and Cruella, staring at the three men in awe.
"Perfect! In that case, Mr. McLeach, Mr. Clayton, Mr. Gaston, You've got a job to do. Get to work! First person to find it gets a 20% bonus to their pay" Cruella points at the jungle with a sinister smile, which sends a cold chill down Shere Khans spine, even at that distance.
"Right you are, Ma'am!" McLeach turns around, loading up his rifle. "You heard that, mates? Boss lady's given us the go ahead... You know what that means?"
Clayton and Gaston also load up their weapons, grinning in agreement.
"Then let's get going, gentlemen..." McCleach racks the rifle "We got us a tiger to kill..."
#disney#disney au#cruella de vil#yzma#Madame Mim#lady tremaine#clayton#bagheera#shere khan#percival mcleach#Gaston#Tarzan#beauty and the beast
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I love Claire Redfield a lot; and it saddens me whenever I read discussions about how Capcom treats her character rather poorly in actuality.
RE2R is my first RE game (RE7-RE8 introduced me to the franchise, but I only watched it), and I hold it close to my heart (even though Leon’s story triggered some bad memories in me oof). To be honest I didn’t expect to love Claire, because just like the other good chunk of newcomers, I came to the franchise because of the pretty boy. But surprisingly, at the end of my playthrough, I ended up loving Claire a LOT. (And as for Leon, I became a little less of a simp. Got a love(70%)-dislike(30%) relationship with this dude).
I think what made me love Claire is that while she is not professionally trained to become a cop/agent (in other words, an ordinary girl/civilian), she’s resilient, courageous and protective—not to mention highly empathetic (she’s not afraid to show so much emotion). She’s quite sassy, and has a good sense of humor. She’s relatable, AND CUTE! I love the fact that this loving girl can turn badass when someone is in need of her help.
She’s awesome.
…Now, I’m just gonna do a disjointed rant below (opinion-heavy).
Being in the fandom for more than a year, I read a lot about Resident Evil, and also learned of its underlying issues (inconsistencies, favouritism, odd storywriting, shipwars, etc.) which made me frustrated more than anything.
As much as I love Claire & Leon as a duo/ship, I have beef with Infinite Darkness because of how they handled Claire (and same goes for Death Island). Not only that, but the fact that even though Claire was a huge part in Sherry’s story, we have YET to see them reunite (the Teppen card is cute, but seriously, you make them meet THERE?).
I also found it odd how Claire (in the OG RE3 epilogue) just went and left Leon and Sherry behind almost immediately. I get that she urgently had to find Chris, but… um. (I swear to gOD IF CAPCOM DOESN’T FIX THIS PART I WILL SCREAM BECAUSE HOLY SHIT I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THAT LEON SAYING “As LoNg aS we StIck ToGetheR, wE’LL bE FiNe” IN THE REMAKE IS ALL FOR NAUGHT/IRONIC)
Sometimes, I find it hard to keep loving this series (but then again, there’s always some ups and downs…). I just hope Capcom realizes that some (if not most) still care about Claire. I mean… she was ranked 3rd in the latest Capcom character popularity poll.
I made this post cuz I’ve been lurking around Reddit to read Resident Evil topics (because REtwt is unserious 70% of the time) and I came across this thread discussing as to why Claire’s being sidelined (more often than not) and man… I wish they’d actually improve their writing on Claire (AND Jill/Rebecca). Chris and Leon are cool and all, but… give some care to the girls as well.
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Hey random question but you as frustrated as I am that Lamia has not had a single appearance in 100 year quest? Even Kagura had a single panel with speech but the Lamia Crew (other than an image with Toby on the toilet) has none!
Thank you for the ask! 💕
Let me preface what I’m about to say because this fandom can be a little bit up in arms about this; I have no ill will in saying this towards anyone, this is simply my opinion. I’m fine with discussions on this topic, but I will not tolerate unnecessary hate if it comes.
Moving on…confession time. I haven’t read the 100 YQ. I’ve been avoiding it because Gruvia makes me really uncomfortable for reasons I’m not going to get into in this post, and to my understanding it’s filled with it now that it’s canon. Yes, when a ship is canon it’ll get page time, but I can’t stomach this ship at all. Again, it makes me viscerally uncomfortable.
On the topic of Lamia Scale, I’m always down for more content with them. I love the entire crew so so much. But knowing Hiro Mashima, the appearance would be centered around Lyon and Juvia. While Luvia doesn’t make me uncomfortable like Gruvia does, I don’t like it—I personally feel like the entire thing completely destroyed everything established about Lyon’s character, and I might make a full analysis about it one day, but this fandom scares me and I’m not in the mood to get into internet fights over ships. I have a job and stories to write and summer classes to focus on.
In an ideal world I’d love more content with them. There’s so much to explore with the Lamia Scale crew as a team and individual characters, Gray and Lyon’s relationship has so much nuance and I love to analyze the scenes they have together.
But personally, with the direction the series has taken in regard to these characters (Sherry please come home we miss you. Yuka and Toby deserve so so much more. Like just a smidge of backstory I’m begging you. Jura as a mentor figure PLEASE. Lyon’s growth as a character is so compelling and yet you focus on this stupid jealousy plot that completely undermines his past and current goals—), I don’t think I’d actually like the scenes written.
This is all my personal opinion! Again, I’m not trying to shame anyone who likes/read 100 YQ. I want to read it, I do, but again…Gruvia…
Respectfully, if any Gruvia shippers see this and feel the need to argue with me, I am entitled to my opinion even if you disagree with it. Nothing you say will make me support this ship for a plethora of reasons that would make this post way, way too long. Lets save both of our energy. The Gruvia tag is waiting for you to consume all the content to your hearts content.
Again, thank you for the ask! Have a good day peeps. 💕
#fairy tail#lyon vastia#gray fullbuster#anti gruvia#fairy tail 100 yq#lamia scale#yuka suzuki#toby horhota#sherry blendy
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I feel like Capcom likes those couples that are not perfect in the sense that Aeon will have a past that was not good at the beginning with the manipulation issue, but I still know that Leon sees something in Ada, he knows that she is not bad . Although I manipulate him, he knows that there is something good in Ada. I also like to think that in RE6 we see more of Ada's change and her redemption. Since he is an agent and she is a mercenary, their relationship is complicated by their jobs, even so they love each other. Both of us, we also have an agent and a mercenary in Jake and Sherry's ship (something similar to Aeon but it is not at the same time). Still there was chemistry and love between them. Also Ethan And mia, they being husbands, mia at one point manipulated him, lied to him, and hid secrets from her husband. But they still forgave each other, they had a family and a baby (although it hurts how Ethan ended up). I don't know, sometimes I start to think that Capcom likes those couples that are opposite sides but you can tell that there is chemistry and they still love each other hahaha
so hopefully i don't get threatened with death again lmao
but yeah i agree. one of the "main" ships in re has always been weird to me because i've always interpreted it as sexless and passionless. like lots of people ship them and im still like - i don't think that they fuck let alone are more than work friends
i've always enjoyed more complicated ships and i think that's also why i enjoy shake so much
i think that couples that are "perfect" or whatever should only be SIDE characters. i just do not care for a perfect ship with no conflicts or anything interesting. that can remain on the side and up to my discretion on whether or not i wanna consume it lol
it's in most media imo, the interesting couple is at the forefront and all the other ones are side characters
anyways yes i mostly agree sjkbksjfs
#shake#sherry x jake#ada wong#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy#aeon#leon x ada#ask heart#heart answers#anon
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Hey! This is Anon from the "love OC's ask". I just wanted to thank you for defending the OC's from idtiots on internet. Like the post Amor made about Scarecrow's work still being used was such fun thing to read. To have someone call it cringe just because they add something about they OC in regard to the post is upsetting. They even added warning before OC part so people can skip it! I adore Amor headcanons either they are about Jonathan or her OC and relationships with them. But why do you think Scarecrow has such toxic part of fanbase? Like they even don't acknowledge his "canonical" comic partners. Like Sherry Squires was big part of Masters of fear! Jonathan or Linda Friitawa and her relationship with Scarebeast! Jonathan? Why are some people so mad that Jonathan has a partner, be it canonical, OC or self insert?
Misogyny and fetishization is your answer, as mentioned in a previous ask. This isn't just Scarecrow, it's any and all shippable male characters. If given the choice between shipping two males who (more often than not) never interact / absolutely hate each other, or shipping a canon male/female ship, they're gonna ship the gay stuff.
Look, I have absolutely nothing against shipping an lgbtqia+ pair, but don't think you're being sneaky when you very obviously ignore or erase canon in any capacity to make your ship work. Note, this isn't just a problem in the rogues fandom, it's ALL fandoms. (it can also be said that erasing a characters culture or skin tone falls into the same bucket of oh fuck no. Ever see people complain about Damian Wayne being drawn to look white? It's a real issue; and not just in comics)
This is a multifaceted issue. The majority of pop culture is straight and white. Obviously we're getting better. I see more gay ships in popular shows, I see more non-white characters with real stories and lives that aren't used for a racist joke ala family guy
I totally get wanting to explore dynamics of different ships, or shipping what you as a person are attracted to. That is always OKAY. Wanting to see yourself as the hero, for example, is okay. Characters like Tiana did SO MUCH for children who previously didn't see themselves as a disney princess.
Let it be known, your average gay male ship isn't an issue. Nor are most fandoms or people in said fandoms. Most people genuinely just ship for fun. Many are multi shippers. Many have m/f and m/m and that's being really general and not mentioning trans ships!
Its when very loud minority send death threats and tell others to commit suicide because they're shipping a female presenting self insert with a popular male character in a fandom dominated by a certain gay ship.I was once told in an anon ask that I should give up talking about my OC because why would Scarecrow love her when he has Riddler? Riddler is SO MUCH better, nobody cares about my stupid OC!
That's not why I stopped, but it didn't help
Not only that, but men in general greatly dislike popular female characters, not so much for shipping reasons but because they can't imagine a world were men are not in the spotlight. And then there's the problem of straight women blatantly creating fetish content about gay men.
it's a huge can of worms, there's so many strings attached to this issue. I honestly don't know if I am giving the problem justice.
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Part Two of ?? Of the HCs
1 | 2 | 3
Ada Wong
Bisexual/Trans Feminine/Aroace
Bisexual because I see her being interested in both men and women.
Trans because yes.
Aroace because I don’t see her interested in anyone, and yes, that includes Leon. I see those two more of bisexual besties that are each other’s wingman/woman even though both of them never really score /hj
Sherry Birkin
Bisexual/Asexual
Bisexual as like Ada, I see her being interested in men and woman.
Asexual as she’s like me (heard about sex and said no thanks /hj).
H.U.N.K.
Aroace
No questions, that is all /hj
Actually, I don’t know why, I just see him only really being married to his job, and for that reason, he isn’t attracted to anyone.
Carlos Oliveira
Bisexual/Trans Masculine/Asexual/Demiromantic/Polyamorous
Bisexual as he’s like Leon; I would hc him as gay if he didn’t flirt with Jill.
Trans because I can.
Asexual because I don’t know, something about him screams asexual.
Demiromantic as he does flirt, but he doesn’t like anyone romantically unless he’s close with them.
Polyamorous because he is with Leon and Luis, and they live in an apartment together with a wolf and a cat.
Steve Burnside
Bisexual
I really hate that they made him act weird with Claire because he gives me hella gay man vibes.
Crossing my fingers they get rid of that in the remake.
Jack Krauser
Bisexual/Asexual/Demiromantic
Bisexual but he’s in denial even though he’s 100% kissed Wesker a couple times /hj
I keep seeing people hc/say that Krauser’s bisexual awakening was Leon, but no thanks, Leon technically his student as Krauser is his mentor (aka a student/teacher relationship), and I feel weird about it. I prefer to say it’s Wesker, thank you-
Asexual because he doesn’t actually like sex.
Demiromantic because it takes a lot of closeness for Krauser to actually fall in love with someone romantically.
Manuela Hidalgo
Pansexual/Aroace
Pansexual as I can see her not really caring about the gender of who she dates, just as long as she loves them, she’s with them.
Aroace as I see her being so.
Ashley Graham
Lesbian/Demisexual
I actually flip-flop on her sexuality a lot. She’s either 100% a lesbian or bisexual with a preference for woman.
Before anyone says, “What about when she flirted with Leon??”, shhhh. Let me have this.
Something about her gives me “I love woman more” vibes.
Anyway, demisexual as I can see her only being okay with it when she’s close with someone.
Ingrid Hunnigan
Lesbian/Aroace
I’m not kidding when I only started seeing her as a lesbian through a Hunnigan/Ada fic. It was really fucking good that it made me only see her loving women, not men. I didn’t even ship them, but it convinced me.
Aroace because she doesn’t seem interested in anyone really.
Luis Serra-Navarro
Genderfluid/Bisexual/Polyamorus
I have this thing that I look at characters in fandoms I’m in, and if their hair is very gender, they get genderfluid as a treat.
That’s what happened with Luis. Plus, I see him possibly fluctuating between femininity and masculinity a lot in terms of how he dresses.
Bisexual because have you seen him? He’s clearly a bisexual man.
Polyamorous because he’s definitely dating Carlos and Leon /hj
#the embers are speaking#I moved Alexia and Alfred to part three just to get Luis in part two#once again#if i see any transphobia/homophobia i’m deleting and blocking#my re headcanons#ada wong#sherry birkin#h.u.n.k.#hunk#carlos oliveira#steve burnside#jack krauser#major krauser#major jack krauser#manuela hidalgo#ashley graham#ingrid hunnigan#hunnigan#luis serra#luis serra navarro#luis sera#luis sera navarro
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𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝗼 𝐏𝐚𝐠𝐞
Hello! I am Ro, and I am 18-21 year old trans man. I write for many fandoms (which shall be listed below). This is indeed my second account, I deleted my last one because I needed to refresh everything (feed, posts, etc). I will try to post frequently, and if I do not then please be patient with me, because it probably means burn out or poor mental health. I also have a new Wattpad account, which the username is also bombsquad09 (it will also be linked below, along with a tag list). Every fandom and character within will be in alphabetical order. Some of the fandoms I do write for will not be listed, and that is due to me not taking requests for those specific fandoms. Thank you!
𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐝𝗼𝗺𝐬:
✞Apex Legends
—> Character(s): Catalyst, Caustic, Fuse, Horizon, Loba, Mirage, Octane, Revenant, Seer, Valkyrie, Wattson.
✞Call of Duty
—> Character(s): John ‘Soap’ MacTavish, John Price, König, Nikto, Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley.
✞Fallout 4
—> Character(s): Cait, Codsworth, Deacon, John Hancock, Nick Valentine, Porter Gage, Preston Garvey, Robert MacCready.
✞House of Ashes
—> Character(s): Eric King, Jason Kolchek, Joey Gomez, Nick Kay, Rachel King, Salim Othman.
✞Just Ignore Them
—> Character(s): Brea, Mark, The Sheriff.
✞Mortal Kombat
—> Character(s): Johnny Cage, Kung Lao, Liu Kang, Noob Saibot.
✞Outlast
—> Character(s): Chris Walker, Eddie Gluskin, Jeremy Blaire, Miles Upshur, Richard Trager.
✞Resident Evil
—> Character(s): Ada Wong, Alcina Dimitrescu, Albert Wesker, Ashley Graham, Carlos Oliveira, Chris Redfield, Claire Redfield, Ethan Winters, Finn Macauley, Jake Muller, Jill Valentine, Leon Kennedy, Lucas Baker, Luis Sera, Nikolai Zinoviev, Piers Nivans, Sherry Birkin.
✞Subnautica
—> Character(s): AL-AN.
✞The Quarry
—> Character(s): Abigail Blyg, Dylan Lenivy, Emma Mountebank, Jacob Custos, Kaitlyn Ka, Max Brinly, Nick Furcillo, Ryan Erzahler.
✞Tomb Raider
—> Character(s): Lara Croft
✞Until Dawn
—> Character(s): Ashley Brown, Christopher Hartley, Emily Davis, Jessica Riley, Joshua Washington, Matthew Taylor, Michael Monroe, Samantha Giddings.
𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬:
✞Transphobia, Homophobia, Racism, Sexism, Fetishizing, etc will not be tolerated. If you do anything related to any of those topics you will be blocked from my account.
✞Do NOT request things such as pedophilia, rape, zoophilia, etc . If anything you are requesting is like that you will be blocked from my account.
✞If you send hate in my anonymous inbox then you shall be ignored, and your message will be deleted. If you're going to be hatefully, don't be a pussy and hide behind an anon.
✞Minor shall interact with anything that is not labeled 18+/MDNI/smut. I can't stop you, nor am I going to carry out an investigation to find out if you're 18+. If you're a minor and you interact and see something you don't like; THATS NOT MY FAULT.
𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝗺:
⚠︎︎Requests are currently open⚠︎︎
✞If you are requesting please be specific about what you want. This includes characters, setting, whether it's ship/xreader/headcanons, and other criteria you want. I can't make it what you want if you don't tell me.
✞I will write smut, fluff, and angst. Headcanons, ships, x readers, preferences, etc are all acceptable within reason.
—> When it comes to smut I will write quite a bit, even somewhat darker themes (Again; I draw the line at things like rape). I may not be good due to having lack of practice from where I didn't write for awhile, my apologies.
—> When it comes to angst, I will write almost anything. I will write (TW) suicide, alcoholism and other addictions, etc. Though, I won't write EDs or self-harm. Similarly to smut, it may not be good due to lack of practice, my apologies.
—> Anything out of reason would be minor x adult in a pedophilic/romantic way, human x animal (no, this does not include monsters) in a zoophilic/romantic way, etc.
✞Be patient, I will want to take my time on requests for various reasons. Sometimes I need breaks, sometimes I don't have any ideas, sometimes I will have writing sprees. It depends on the minute, so again, be patient. If you complain about how long it takes your request will be deleted and ignored.
✞If you want to be tagged for any specific character(s), then put your username in an orderly fashion on the Google doc that I will have linked below.
✞I will mostly write m!reader (AMAB and AFAB), but if you do want f!reader or gn!reader just let me know in your request, and I will do. If you do not specify I will either do m!reader or gn!reader by default. The only exception to this is if it is a lesbian/sapphic character.
✞ Any requested content will be Tumblr exclusives! Anything that is requested on my Wattpad will be Wattpad exclusive. (Excluding alphabets)
𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭/𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭/𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐚𝐝:
✞ Wattpad
✞ Masterlists
✞ Tag List
✞ Upcoming Works
⚠︎︎This post was last updated: 10/27/24⚠︎︎
#resident evil#resident evil 4#resident evil 5#resident evil smut#resident evil 3#fallout#fallout 4#nikolai zinoviev#resident evil 2#resident evil 6#call of duty#cod mw3#cod#cod mw2#cod mwii#cod modern warfare#until dawn#the quarry#the dark pictures anthology#house of ashes#little hope#man of medan#the devil in me#mortal kombat#apex legends#tomb raider#outlast#outlast headcanons
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A Night Out
Synopsis: Heathcliff and Sherry spend an evening out at a local tavern, taking advantage of a rare opportunity to relax.
Ship: The Adventure of Wuthering Heights
Words: 5,445
Warnings: alcohol, mentions of gambling, smoking, mentions of drugs, mentions of torture and death (no one is actually tortured/killed), mentions of food
Note: This fic is set in my Sherlock Holmes AU; Originally posted in June of 2023
A pleasant hush had descended on the Backstreets, and Heathcliff observed the evening routines of the local residents with a disinterested expression—here, on the outermost fringes of the Nest, the denizens of the District enjoyed a modicum of tranquility that stirred a bitter resentment in his heart.
Arrogant bastards, he thought, glaring at a pair of men as they lounged on the steps of their apartment, discussing whatever topic entertained those within the folds of high society—poetry, he supposed; those Odysseys and Iliads that only men and women of ‘genteel breeding’ had the pleasure of reading.
Scoffing, Heathcliff leaned against the side of the alleyway, his gaze turning towards the building that formed the opposite wall—the Diogenes Club. It was a polite structure, constructed of ruddy bricks that had been glued together with thick globs of cement, and several windows adorned the frontside. The building possessed two stories, with the second floor rising from the first and shunted back a ways, and every single curtain was drawn, much to his consternation.
How much longer is this going to take? He thought, eyeing the nearest window warily. Every now and then, the drapes were drawn back, and someone would peek out before hastily drawing the curtains once more. He knew exactly who it was, and the game he played, but he wasn’t deterred. Does he just think he can keep her all night? That I’ll get fed up and leave?
Huffing, Heathcliff kicked the pavement, muttering a string of curses to himself. He’d been waiting since five, and, though there wasn’t a clock nearby, he knew it’d been a good three hours since his companion had vanished into the establishment—the surrounding apartments had been painted gold, then orange, and now a cool shade of indigo, and now the faintest lines of silver were beginning to dance through the streets, lending a soft, sparkling sheen to the pavement of the cul-de-sac.
What business is so important he has to keep her three hours? He glowered at the window, the curtains once again flickering as someone peered out at him. If I have to wait much longer, I’ll go mad.
Heathcliff had oft repeated that exact line to himself over the past three hours, yet he’d remained outside, patiently awaiting his companion’s return—such was the power of the vow between them.
“I shouldn’t have signed that lousy scrap of paper,” he grumbled. “I’d be off having a fine time with my mates at the pub if I hadn’t—I’d be starting scraps here and there, sure, but at least I’d be inside where it’s warm.”
But I wouldn’t be sitting half as pretty as I am, he reminded himself with a scowl.
His gaze returned to the window, but it was still. A moment later, the front door opened, and a woman dressed in a familiar coat of brown tweed stepped onto the street, her brow knit as she addressed someone behind her.
“—I won’t hear anymore of this, Mycroft. I have made my position on this matter perfectly clear—perhaps clearer than you would’ve liked. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my companion and I have another appointment, and I’ve wasted quite enough time entertaining your nonsense.”
“Sherlock, you cannot be serious about keeping this … engagement of yours. Your reputation will suffer for it—as will the family name!”
“Reputation means little to me, as you well know—besides, you’re the one the family name relies on, what with you being the eldest.” Tipping her cap, she offered the man a stiff bow. “Now, good evening.”
With that, she turned on her heel and set off at a brisk pace down the street, signaling for Heathcliff to join her with a wave of her hand. Glancing between her and the man still standing in the doorway, he shrugged, detaching himself from the shadows and hurrying after her.
“I take it things didn’t go well?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as she fished a pipe from one of her coat’s numerous pockets.
“It went as expected,” she replied crisply. “Things played out exactly as I told you they would, this morning: Mycroft begged me to drop my work as a Fixer, but he really dug in when it came to me keeping you around.”
“Ah … hence the ‘your reputation will suffer’ …” Heathcliff sighed. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone worried about me disgracing a lady.”
“And, as I’ve told you, not even my dear brother can undo the ties that bind you and I.” She smiled mischievously, lighting her pipe. “Imagine the look on his face if I were to produce the contract … he’d faint, I’m sure.”
“As would a good chunk of my mates,” Heathcliff muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets.
Though, they wouldn’t be as civil as Sherlock’s brother, he thought ruefully. No … they’d brand me a traitor, and then they’d exile me … but not until after they’ve tried to kill me.
He glanced at Sherlock—Sherry—hoping that he’d feel the familiar rush of rage towards her that he’d felt when they’d first started out on this private venture. But, try as he might, the flames of anger and resentment had long since abated when it came to Sherlock Holmes. After all, she’d opened her home to him, despite his untoward behavior, and had let him eat whatever leftovers remained when she finished eating—and, oftentimes, those leftovers were the entire feast.
She’d even enlisted her friend, Dr. John Watson, to tend his injuries whenever he returned to the Office covered in wounds from this or that clash between Syndicates, silencing Watson’s complaints with nothing more than a cold glare and a single, sharp word.
And, if that weren’t enough, she’d promised him the one thing no one else could—information. Along with a forty percent cut of her earnings, so long as he agreed to help her on cases every now and then.
By all accounts, Heathcliff had landed himself a deal that others would’ve killed for. Free room and board, a doctor whenever he needed one, tidbits of information on the person he yearned for most, and a sizeable paycheck … to hate Sherlock Holmes after all she’d offered him would be to bite the hand that feeds—and she fed him well.
And all he had to do was swallow his pride and sign a fancy little contract.
Heathcliff sighed, abandoning his attempt at hating the woman beside him—it was impossible for him to harbor hatred toward her, given the circumstances. “You said we had another call, this evening?”
Sherry shook her head. “That was simply an excuse to get away from my brother,” she said, her smile fading. “I don’t like lying to him, but he’d exhausted my patience.”
“Then we’re returning to Baker Street?”
“If that’s what you wish.”
Heathcliff raised an eyebrow. What I wish?
That was the other thing that had stifled his frustrations shortly after they’d both signed that scrap of paper—Sherry always took interest in what he wanted. At first, this had only served to incense him further—he was already bound to aid her, and now she was trying to befriend him? It reeked of deception, the kind of trickery any Backstreets swindler would employ.
And yet … she’d met his gaze whenever he answered—she’d seen him, rather than straight through him, and committed his responses to memory. It’d been far too long since someone had wanted to know Heathcliff for who he was rather than for what he could do for them, and, despite reminding himself over and over that it was probably a clever ploy to win his trust, he’d developed a secret fondness for the detective—a fondness he both loathed and treasured.
“I didn’t have anything that I wanted to do,” he said finally, ignoring her piercing gaze as it settled on him—those sharp, sapphire eyes, sparkling with an intensity that made his insides squirm, were incapable of missing even the slightest of details. Heathcliff instinctively reached to adjust one of his suspenders, then froze.
Lass has me fretting about my appearance, now, he thought, gritting his teeth and forcing his hand back into his pocket as Sherry chuckled softly.
“You’ve been doing that more,” she said, closing her eyes.
“Doing what?” he asked, feigning ignorance.
“Straightening your clothes whenever I cast a glance your way,” Sherry replied, smiling. “There’s no need for it, you know—I’m not going to scold you for having a button undone.”
She cracked open an eyelid, her gaze hovering on the collar of his shirt, which, as usual, was unbuttoned.
Heathcliff muttered an oath, beginning to fumble with the buttons, which only made Sherry laugh more. After a moment, she tugged his arm, halting him so she could adjust his attire herself.
“I told you—I’ve no problem with how you dress.” She pulled his dusty, brown jacket so that it covered his shoulders properly, then fussed with his sleeves, picking off a few pieces of lint. “As long as you’re comfortable, I’ve no qualms about your clothing.”
Heathcliff grunted, waving her away. “If you didn’t care, then you wouldn’t be fussing.”
“I’m only fussing because watching you fumble with buttons and folds is as entertaining as watching rain trickle down a windowpane,” she retorted.
“Yet you were chuckling just a moment before,” he growled.
“Only because you fall for my teasing so easily—surely you know when I’m taking the piss, by now?”
Heathcliff bristled, but couldn’t think of a clever comeback. Instead, he settled for another curse, turning to follow Sherry as she continued down the street.
“If you don’t have anywhere you’d like to visit, then we can retire to Baker Street early—Victor did send me a letter, and I could spend the evening continuing my correspondence with him.”
At this, Heathcliff hissed. “Not that rich sod from the Nest, again … he isn’t insisting you return to that bloody estate of his, is he?”
Sherry’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “He is. I know how you feel about him, so you can look after the Office when I visit him, if you so choose.”
And let him flirt with you? I’d rather be shot! Heathcliff bit his tongue, barely stopping himself from listing the numerous reasons Sherry shouldn’t return to Victor Trevor’s estate—chief among them the jealousy surging through his veins.
“Victor informed me that a man by the name of Hudson has been working his father into quite a state, and wishes for me to look into him, and it wouldn’t do to turn down a friend after all he’s done for me.”
She turned her eyes toward Heathcliff, their mischievous twinkle growing brighter as she grinned.
“Unless, of course, something prevents me from writing back to him.”
Heathcliff returned her gaze coolly. He knew exactly what she was doing, and if he wasn’t so stung by her dragging Victor’s name into the conversation, he would’ve been flattered. To think, the great Sherlock Holmes was hinting at wanting to spend time with him … outside of the Office, no less!
Finally, he sighed. “I suppose … I might know a place we could go—but it’s not exactly the kind of establishment I should be taking a lady.”
“My dear Heathcliff, do you think I’m unfamiliar with the City’s dens of iniquity?”
“No, but still …” he avoided her gaze. There were places he frequented that he’d wanted to keep Sherry away from—the taverns were one thing, but the gambling dens and the underground fighting rings, thick with tobacco smoke, were places he didn’t want her to see, lest they spoil her opinion of him.
“I assure you, you shall receive no judgement from me—if that’s what you fear.” Sherry placed her finger over the end of her pipe, snuffing out the flame before pocketing it. “And if you’re concerned about my reputation … I made my stance quite clear, earlier.”
“That you did,” Heathcliff muttered. “Alright—perhaps I have a bit of unfinished business at a place nearby. But I don’t want to hear you complaining about the clientele, got it?”
The Rat’s Nest was an unassuming building upon first glance, with ashen brick walls and a number of freshly scrubbed windows, but locals knew better—though the establishment had a modest exterior, the inside was rank with illicit activity, from gambling to forgery to smuggling enkephalin.
Still, it was a place Heathcliff frequented—if nothing else, he could turn up a tidbit of info or two to run back to Sherry for her cases. And … well, the drinks were nice, too.
“The Rat’s Nest,” Sherry’s eyes glanced over the sign hanging above the door, and she sighed, clearly unamused. “How clever.”
“Careful there,” Heathcliff said, nodding at a crowd of thugs gathered outside the establishment, their eyes trained on the unusual duo. “This place is one of the most dangerous places in the District.”
“I’m familiar with its reputation,” she said softly. “Many of my clients have run into trouble with those who frequent this establishment … but it’s a wealth of information for any Fixer willing to step inside.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been here, then?”
“No—but I know a certain man with a rather unkempt appearance who has.” She shot him a sly grin, and he grit his teeth. “What’s your business, tonight?”
“Same as every night where you’re not demanding I go and dig up information—pool.”
Sherry raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as he opened the tavern door, a cloud of thick, blue tobacco smoke roiling forth and smothering them as they ducked inside.
The building was packed, with people from all corners of the Backstreets crowded around tables throughout the main floor. Many of them were speaking in hushed whispers, dark eyes glittering warily as they surveyed the room, watching for potential eavesdroppers. Most were smoking thick cigars, contributing to the hazy blue cloud drifting across the ceiling, while others had their fingers curled around neatly chiseled glasses filled with brandy, vodka, or gin—at least, that’s what Heathcliff supposed, having glanced over the bar menu briefly once or twice. He fancied the scotch, himself.
One quarter of the room had been lowered several yards, and a staircase had been installed for guests to travel down to the lowest point in the tavern—a space filled with dartboards, pool tables, and slot machines. Throngs of Rats had gathered around the slots, their dim eyes reflecting the dazzling colors as they watched the reels spin as if in a trance.
Sherry barely suppressed a soft cough, glaring at the indigo fog rolling overhead. “Would it kill them to crack open a window?”
“Don’t let ‘em hear you saying that,” Heathcliff whispered, nudging her towards the stairs. “Trust me—this crowd can sense disapproval, and they’re pretty quick to stamp it out.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You’ve upset them a few times, then?”
“And what would make you think I’m the one who upset ‘em? Perhaps I was just an innocent bystander who witnessed some poor sod getting thrashed for daring to tell one of ‘em off?”
Sherry grinned, shaking her head. “My dear Heathcliff … I’m sorry, but it sounds like you’re recounting one of your personal experiences.”
He muttered a curse, prodding her closer to the stairs. “Fine, I’ve been in a few scrapes with these lads in the past, but that’s all the more reason for you to keep your mouth shut.”
“Oh?” she raised an eyebrow, her eyes gleaming mischievously. “Is that why you’ve been coming back to the Office so ragged these past few weeks?”
“Mouth. Shut.” Heathcliff hissed, his eyes flicking towards the bar before scanning the nearby tables. “I don’t need you drawing more attention than you already have.”
Sherry huffed, folding her arms. “You’re not scared of them, are you?”
“What? No!” he scoffed. “Just get down the bloody stairs before I—”
He stopped midsentence, noticing a few people had turned to stare at them, and he felt his face flush. Grabbing Sherry by the elbow, he led her down the stairs, then towards a pool table in the bottom left corner of the room.
Releasing Sherry, he sighed, leaning against the pool table with his eyes closed. This woman is going to be the death of me.
“Eight-ball or one-pocket?” Sherry’s question, asked in a soft, gentle tone, made him open his eyes, and he was surprised to see her racking pool balls on the table behind him.
“Eight-ball,” he answered, and she nodded. “You … you’ve played before?”
“Once or twice,” she replied, shrugging. “Mycroft often lets the boys play at the Diogenes Club, and I picked it up from them—though, my dear brother was upset when he found out.”
“I can imagine.” Heathcliff couldn’t help but grin at the thought of Mycroft fuming because his precious little sister had learned how to play something as ‘scandalous’ as pool.
Sherry removed the rack from around the balls with a flourish, setting it to the side before placing the cue ball at the headstring. “Would you like to shoot first?”
“If it pleases the lady,” Heathcliff hummed, and Sherry scoffed. But she nodded, tossing him a cue stick from the set hanging on the wall beside the table.
“The floor’s yours.”
Without another word, Heathcliff moved himself behind the cue ball, leaning forward and placing his bridge hand on the table—open bridge, as always—and delivered a sharp prod to the cue ball, which collided with the pool balls at the opposite end of the table, sending them scattering in all directions. A solid blue ball rolled neatly into the top left pocket, and Heathcliff shot Sherry a smug grin.
“Seems I’ll be taking an early lead.”
“Don’t go getting cocky, now,” she warned, rubbing a chalk cube on the end of her cue stick. “You haven’t even seen me shoot.”
He shrugged, moving to the right side of the table to position himself behind the cue ball, eyes fixed on a solid red ball a few inches away from the leftmost pocket. As he settled down to shoot, though, he felt that familiar sensation of being watched by a sharp pair of eyes …
Sherlock, he thought, gritting his teeth as his heart skipped a beat. His gaze flicked up to meet hers, but he quickly focused his attention back on the cue ball, trying to ignore her. Just focus on the game, Heathcliff—don’t let her get in your head.
He poked the cue ball firmly, but it only rolled enough to nudge the red ball he’d aimed for, and he muttered a quiet curse as Sherry scooped up the cue ball and reset it behind the headstring.
“Allow me …” she said, settling into a striking position.
Heathcliff huffed, stepping back to lean against the wall, studying Sherry’s movements.
There were few moments where he had the opportunity to truly look at Sherlock Holmes—she was always bundled up in her brown trench coat, a short, tweed cape hanging about her shoulders, with a familiar cap perched atop her head.
And that was usually all he noticed.
But here, in the dimly lit tavern, with her crouched low as she charted the course of the cue ball in front of her, Heathcliff had a rare opportunity to admire her face—it was surprisingly soft, with the faintest of wrinkles under her eyes denoting the many sleepless nights she’d spent in her favorite armchair, her deep blue eyes reflecting the leaping flame contained in the fireplace. He never really knew what she was thinking on those nights, but he knew one thing: Sherlock had some of the most piercing eyes he’d ever seen, and they expressed her thoughts more clearly than her own tongue.
Sherry narrowed her eyes, studying the cue ball with an intensity that she usually reserved for the morning papers, and she set her bridge hand flat on the table, running the edge of her cue stick back and forth along her thumb and index finger in quiet contemplation. A few locks of her warm, tawny hair brushed against the table as she leaned forward, delivering a firm strike to the cue ball that sent it shooting across the table, knocking a ball with a thick, yellow band into the top right pocket.
Wordlessly, Sherry straightened, moving around the table to prepare for another shot, this time her gaze set on a ball behind the headstring, sporting a band of indigo. And, again, she sank the ball.
Moving back around the table, she cast Heathcliff a sly glance, and he snorted. So, she’s got a little bit of skill—it’s nothing to be proud of. It’s not like we’re playing for money or anything.
Sherry sank yet another ball, and he sighed as she once again looped around the table.
Okay … maybe she’s got something to be proud of.
“I do hope I’m not boring you,” she said, flicking her eyes in his direction as she settled down for her fourth shot. “I’m not familiar with the kind of conversation people have when they play pool.”
“They’re usually about topics that wouldn’t interest you, anyway,” Heathcliff replied.
“Try me.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, listening as the cue ball clattered against a trio of balls at the other end of the table. “When it’s me and my mates, the topic usually turns to who fancies who pretty quick.”
“Ah … you’re right. That isn’t something that interests me.”
“Not even if it’s about me?” he asked, opening his eyes to study her curiously.
“I was under the impression you were in love with that Earnshaw woman.” Sherry’s words were polite, but her eyes were dark. She gestured at the table. “It’s your shot.”
“So it is,” he murmured, detaching himself from the wall and plucking the cue ball from the table, once again resetting it behind the headstring. “Have you learned anything more about Cathy, by any chance?”
“Nothing that pleases me,” Sherry muttered bitterly, brow furrowed. “The more I learn of her, the more I dislike her—if you’ll pardon me saying so.”
Heathcliff hummed in response, taking his shot and sinking another ball in the rightmost pocket. “Wouldn’t happen to be because you’re … jealous, would it?”
“I have no reason to envy her,” Sherry said simply, but the storm in her eyes brought a smile to Heathcliff’s face.
Oh, she’s definitely jealous …
He missed his next shot, and Sherry took his place, resetting the cue ball and knocking two more balls into separate pockets. She really was quite good at the game—better than most.
“If I’d known you were this good, I would’ve made a bet with you.” Heathcliff sidled up beside her, earning an annoyed glare.
“And what would the stakes have been?”
“Nothing big—just a bet to see who’d be buying drinks.”
Sherry shrugged, jabbing the cue ball and sending another pool ball rattled into a pocket. “If you want a drink, I have no problem buying you one.”
“You, Miss Sherlock Holmes, are the complete opposite of a lady. Your brother would be horrified if he heard you were offering to buy a man a drink, you know.”
“There are more scandalous things,” she replied, rounding the table and sinking her seventh pool ball. “For example—I’m about to beat you at pool by knocking the eight ball into that pocket.”
She nodded at the hole closest to him, and he grinned.
“You’re just racking up your sins, tonight, aren’t you?”
“I never said I was a lady—you’re the one who assumed I was.”
With that, she sank the eight ball into the pocket beside Heathcliff, and the game was finished.
“Not bad,” Heathcliff mused, knocking the rest of the balls into the table’s pockets as Sherry hung up her cue stick. “Seems I owe you a drink.”
“If I drink, it’ll be back at Baker Street.” Sherry sighed, twirling her hair around her finger. “I don’t care to drink in public—and especially not in places like this.”
“What—you can’t hold your liquor?” Heathcliff teased.
“I hold my drink better than you,” she said sharply, and he winced—she had seen him in a drunken stupor once before, and though he couldn’t recall any of the things he’d said or done, the disapproving look in her eyes during the weeks following his intoxicated haze had hurt more than the initial hangover. “But … if you’d like, I can treat you to a glass of brandy.”
“Scotch would be nice,” he muttered, hanging up his cue stick.
“Scotch, then.” Sherry moved towards the stairs, and Heathcliff scrambled after her, catching up as she reached the main floor.
Before he could say anything, however, she’d vanished into the crowd, leaving him alone on the landing.
Shit, he thought, glancing around frantically for her. Really, Heathcliff—you bring a lass out with you for the first time in years, and you decide the ideal place to take her is a seedy little tavern packed full of the shadiest Syndicates in the Backstreets … and then you go and lose track of her. Sure, she’s Sherlock Holmes, but with a face as cute as hers, any drunk sod could fancy the idea to try and charm her—not that he’d succeed, because she is Sherlock Holmes and has no interest in romance, but …
He shook himself, muttering a quiet curse.
Pull yourself together, you stupid fool! It’s because she’s Sherlock Holmes that she’s in so much danger here—all sorts of Syndicates gather here, and none of ‘em are too keen on her after she broke up their enkephalin smuggling rings. If they cornered her, they’d do all manner of unthinkable things to her …
He shuddered, a cold, dark realization dawning on him.
… and it’d be my fault. I’d be the reason she got caught and tortured. His stomach twisted painfully at the thought, and his heartrate accelerated. They’d kill her and I’d be the one responsible for it, because I’m the bastard who brought her here in the first place.
He was about to dive into the crowd in search of her when he felt a gentle tug at his arm, and, glancing down, he saw that Sherry had returned, a glass of whiskey in her hand, which she offered to him.
“Sherlock!” he wheezed, relief washing over him. “You’re … safe.”
“Of course I am,” she replied, raising an eyebrow at his quivering frame. “Are you feeling alright? You’re shaking like a newborn calf …”
He blinked, then released a tired sigh. “Don’t go running off on me, love … you scared me half to death.”
“Ah …” Sherry glanced away, then took his elbow. “Let’s go over here—there’s a table in the corner that was unoccupied … you can rest there for a moment.”
Heathcliff allowed her to lead him through the crowd, and they settled down at a small booth in the farthest corner of the tavern, far away from the wary eyes of the ruffians clustered around the bar.
Sherry was silent, quietly observing the murmuring crowds, and Heathcliff took the opportunity to take a swig of his drink, sighing as the familiar warmth of alcohol spread through his limbs, filling him with renewed vigor.
Setting the now-empty glass down, he turned his gaze to Sherry, who was staring at her lap, her hat drawn low over her eyes.
“You doing alright?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m fine,” she replied curtly, lifting her head and staring out at the people milling about the tavern.
Heathcliff tried to read her eyes, but they weren’t the dazzling window to her thoughts that they usually were—instead, they were clouded with an emotion that was foreign to them … something different from the delight and anger that usually thundered through them.
“… can I ask you a question, Heathcliff?”
Sherry’s voice was soft, hesitant—so much less confident than usual.
“Of course,” he said, tilting his head. “What is it?”
“Do you still love Catherine Earnshaw?”
Heathcliff blinked, surprised by the question. “Of course I do—Cathy’s the only reason I’m doing all this, remember? You said that as long as I help you out here and there, and sometimes keep you company now that Watson’s left to focus on his practice, you’d tell me what you learned about her whereabouts.”
“I see. I suspected as much.” Sherry’s words were stiff, and that clouded emotion in her eyes thickened. “And what if she’s ceased to love you? Have you ever considered that possibility?”
“That ‘possibility’ is an impossibility,” Heathcliff hissed, bristling.
Sherry frowned. “Then you’re set on returning to her, once I discover where she’s decided to roost?”
“Naturally—once I get the information I want, our contract’s fulfilled. I’m free to go on my way, and you can find someone else to accompany you on your cases.”
“And what about everything we’ve been through? Is the friendship we share so trivial that you’ll just vanish without a word once you get what you want?”
Heathcliff hesitated at this—certainly, Sherlock meant something to him … she meant more to him than anyone else in the Backstreets. Hell—just a few moments ago, the thought of losing her had stricken him with terror, and that fear was rivaled only by the bitter thought that someone else would steal away her affections … but he knew that was impossible. Sherlock Holmes had no interest in winning a man’s heart—and besides, didn’t his love belong to Cathy?
Still, the idea of parting with Sherry once he finally learned of Catherine’s whereabouts left him feeling hollow. He did harbor a secret affection for her, after all … even if he refused to admit it.
“You’re … you’re not going to make me choose between the two of you, are you?”
“I’m not. But the fact that Catherine Earnshaw and I lead very different lives and desire very different things—save, perhaps, one thing—is undeniable. It’s not a matter of choosing between Catherine and I … it’s a matter of choosing between the life Catherine wants and the life you currently lead.”
He blinked—he’d never once considered how different his life would be once he was finally reunited with Cathy. He’d just assumed things would go back to how they were before he left—only this time, she would accept him. How could she not? He was returning to her a fairly wealthy man, after all …
But, life as it was before was … dull and uninteresting, now that he thought about it. He’d rise with the sun, eat breakfast, do whatever business required his attention, eat lunch, return to business, eat dinner, and then go to bed shortly after sunset. And there’d be balls, no doubt—and he loathed balls. Even with Cathy at his side, the drabness of it all would bore him to tears—especially in comparison to the fast paced life he led in the Backstreets working with Sherry.
At Baker Street Office, he had his three meals a day, a room for himself, and there was something new happening nearly every day—unearthing scandals, busting enkephalin smuggling rings, tearing down entire Syndicates, and learning the secrets of the Wings … plus, he still had the pleasures of gambling and drinking to pass the time whenever Sherry gave him leave. Though the consequences of those behaviors weren’t always the best, he at least enjoyed freedom when he was working for her … a freedom that he’d lose the moment he returned to Catherine.
“I’m close to figuring out where she is, Heathcliff,” Sherry said softly. “I just wanted to make you aware of how serious a choice awaits you. I won’t sway you one way or the other—but I will say that of all the men I’ve known, you certainly keep me the most entertained.”
She rose, brushing off her coat.
“I think I’ll return to Baker Street, now. All things considered, this was a lovely evening—it’s been a long time since I had this much fun.”
Heathcliff started. “Don’t you want company on the way home?”
“I’ll be alright on my own—I’ll leave the door unlocked for you. Just go easy on the whiskey, alright?”
With that, she swept out of the tavern, leaving Heathcliff to brood over the problem she’d unceremoniously dropped in his lap.
It was only a few minutes after she departed, however, that he realized something—Sherry had said there was one thing that both she and Catherine wanted. What that thing was remained a mystery to him, though his fluttering heart dared to hope that, perhaps, it was him.
#this still somehow holds up post Canto VI and I'm really proud of that ... it helps that it's an AU#so Catherine is in a different situation than she is in canon--though what that situation is is for me to know and you to find out /lh#otp: the adventure of wuthering heights ⛈️🔍#r: remind my heart to beat 💢#si: to a great mind‚ nothing is little 🤎#cuddle up with a good book#scattered pages
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always on my mind
chapter one: have an open mind ships: sasha/milla characters: milla, truman, sasha, oleander, sherri words: 5628 ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53435410
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The Motherlobe was huge. Intimidating.
Milla wasn’t sure the last time she’d seen such a large building. It looked lovely - well structured, seemed safe…fire-proof, even - but the size of it made her nervous. Like she was entering the belly of the beast.
The last two years of her life had been harrowing. The Psychonauts had come to her in a time of desperation and she was so moved by the help she’d received that she wanted to learn more and become a part of the organization herself. Truman seemed excited, said she was one of the fastest learners he’d ever worked with, and quickly made arrangements.
But she didn’t share his confidence. This was an entirely new environment she was entering - she was familiar with a few faces and names, but to almost everyone she was a stranger. A stranger who spent a very long time in psychoisolation and still felt jittery around an open flame.
Being out of Brazil was helpful, at least. After high school, she and some friends had spent a summer in Miami, so she had a little bit of experience in America. It would still take some getting used to, but Truman assured her that there were other international transplants working there and they all adjusted quickly.
As he and a mostly silent coworker landed the jet, Milla took a deep breath.
She was ready.
She wasn’t ready.
She didn’t have a choice on whether or not she was ready.
“Milla?” Truman asked, taking a step closer to her.
She glanced up at him from her seat and smiled - he smelled like coffee and had a worried look on his face. “I’m fine,” she answered softly. “Just nervous.”
“Understandable.” He turned and gave a quick wave to the other Psychonaut that’d been in the jet with them, then turned back to Milla. “And I’m sorry I don’t have time to show you around, but I’ve arranged for one of our best and brightest to give you a tour and make sure you feel welcome!”
“Oh?” She’d been under the impression that she was just going to be thrown into the ring. Having a tour guide sounded nice. “Thank you, I appreciate that.”
“Of course! The Psychonauts are nothing if not welcoming!” Truman said with a smile, sounding like he was practicing for a commercial.
He guided her out of the jet; Milla comfortably levitated herself to the ground and found herself staring up at the Motherlobe once again. It was even more intimidating up close. So intimidating that it took her a few moments to notice the lanky man smoking a few feet in front of her.
Truman patted the man on the back. “I see you got my message, excellent!” He opened his mouth to say something else, but suddenly paused and pressed two fingers to the side of his head. He hummed softly for a moment, nodded, then looked back up at the two of them. “Sorry, I’m late for a meeting. Nein, Vodello - Vodello, Nein,” he said quickly, motioning to each as he said their name. “I’ll see you at noon for our lunch meeting!”
The two of them watched him levitate away and the air between them became suddenly, awkwardly silent as they took one another in.
Milla noticed first that he was tall, his skin was a greenish hue, he was levitating a cigarette near his head, and his mind was completely, one hundred percent silent. She felt comfortable around him almost immediately because of that. “Um…hello! Is it…uh, Nine?”
He cleared his throat and stuck out his hand stiffly. “Agent Sasha Nein. And your name is Camilla, correct?”
She gave him a small smile - it wasn’t the first time someone had pronounced her name like that - Ca-mee-yah - and in other circumstances she probably would have corrected him. She'd corrected Truman the first time they met and he was happy to call her Mee-la as she preferred. But Sasha's voice was shaking oh-so-slightly - despite his cool exterior and quiet mind, Milla could tell he was exceptionally nervous. Something about his demeanor told her that he didn’t expect this assignment and probably didn’t usually do this sort of thing. So she decided she’d let it go this time, maybe mention it to him later if they ended up working together a lot.
“That’s me!” she answered with a bright smile, reaching out to shake his hand. His handshake was as stiff as she expected, which made Milla think about how different this man was from Truman. She could tell she’d be meeting a lot of very different people over the next few hours.
Sasha pulled away and brushed his fingers through his short hair. “I have to admit I’m a little unprepared for this. But Grand Head Zanotto requested I give you a tour and answer any questions you have until your lunch meeting with him, so…do you have any questions before we begin?”
Milla pouted as she tried to think. She had a million questions, obviously, but didn’t want to jump the gun or scare this poor man into thinking she was more excitable than professional. “I think I’m a little too overwhelmed at the moment to form a single question.”
He adjusted his glasses and nodded. “I understand. I felt the same way the first time I came here.”
She smiled at him and followed as he motioned towards the door. It opened automatically and inside there was a small lobby with a few tables and chairs, a desk in the middle, and a…something in the back. Milla wasn’t sure how to identify it. Some sort of tunnel, maybe.
“I assume Truman didn’t get you scanned into our Thinkerprint system.”
Milla tilted her head. “I’m not sure what that means, so…probably not?”
Sasha ran his fingers through his hair again - he seemed to do that a lot. “It’s our new security system, you’ll get your picture taken, an employee badge, and your brain will be scanned so you can immediately gain access to any rooms you should have access to.”
“Oh, a photo?” She played with her hair, still a bit insecure about how short it was. She’d had long hair for most of her life, but after recent experiences it was easier to chop most of it off than try to revive it. “I don’t remember the last time I had my picture taken.”
He stared at her for a moment, looking like he wanted to make a comment, but instead he just took a drag of his cigarette. “You can retake the photo every six months if you’re unhappy with it.”
Milla ran her long fingers through her hair, embarrassed. “I might just do that,” she said with a little chuckle. She hoped that didn’t sound vain, but also thought he didn’t seem like the kind of person to take note of things like that.
They took a few minutes to get her set up in the system - Sasha didn’t lie, it was clearly very new because the woman at the front desk was not confident about it. She stumbled over herself and Milla assured her it was fine, but the woman kept glancing nervously at Sasha while she fumbled with the little scanner and Milla could feel a wave of discomfort coming off of her.
It was an interesting thing to notice. Milla wondered if they had history or if Sasha just intimidated people. He was a very stiff and serious man, as far as she could tell. It wouldn’t be surprising if people were scared of him.
A few minutes later and they were in the lobby of the Motherlobe - Sasha took another drag of his cigarette while Milla took in…everything. There were agents floating around, dozens of people chatting both out loud and telepathically. There were signs for normal office building features, but then there was also a bowling alley and a hair salon and she felt the smallest bit overwhelmed by it all. Not overwhelmed to the point of anxiety, but, well. It was a lot.
As she floated and spun around to take in the room, Milla noticed her tour guide out of the corner of her eye. He was eagerly reading a printed sheet of paper and she wondered if it had anything to do with her.
She planted her feet back on the ground and clasped her hands behind her back. “I should’ve asked this before we started…do you have any questions for me?”
Sasha looked up at her, surprised. He quickly folded the paper back up and stuffed it into one of his jacket pockets. “Grand Head Zanotto gave me some basic information about you. But I wanted to check something…you’re from Brazil, yes?”
“That’s right.”
“We don’t have a base anywhere in Brazil, so…where did you learn to levitate like that?” Sasha asked, pointing down at her feet which were currently not in the air. “Just from working with Grand Head Zanotto?”
Milla tilted her head slightly, trying to understand the meaning behind his question. “Ah…yes, I guess so. Am I doing it wrong?” she asked, floating up once again.
He shook his head. “Not at all. It’s very impressive, actually. From what I understand, you’ve only been training your psychic abilities for a few months.”
She smiled sheepishly and shrugged, trying to find a humble way to repeat what had been previously said to her. “That’s true. Truman did call me a fast learner, but I don’t really have anything to compare myself to so I assumed he was being polite.”
“He’s not one for servile flattery,” Sasha said matter-of-factly. “It took me years before I was so comfortable with levitation.”
“I suppose it’s my specialty,” she added. “Truman showed me other psychic powers I could develop, but most didn’t come so quickly.”
He nodded and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I’ve always been in tune with more offensive psychic abilities - PSI-blasting, pyrokinesis, that sort of thing. Are you familiar?”
Milla felt an unease come over her at his mention of firestarting and nervously played with her hair again. “Ah…I have trained on PSI-blasts. A bit. Not as much as shielding or telekinesis.”
There was an awkward pause between them before Sasha continued. “And what about pyro-”
“Outta my way, Nein!”
The two of them were interrupted by a short, orange-skinned man rushing through the lobby towards a door labeled Nerve Center. He paused in his rush as he noticed Milla, and took a step back to lift up his hat and introduce himself properly. “Hello, who’s this?”
Sasha scowled. “Morry. This is Camilla Vodello, Grand Head Zanotto’s newest recruit.”
Milla kept her face completely still as Sasha mispronounced her name again, and realized unfortunately that she’d just completely missed her opportunity to correct him without making it into a thing. She wasn’t exactly sure what to do about the situation, but decided there was no point in making a big deal. The way he pronounced it wasn’t unpleasant, so it was fine. She’d find an opportunity to correct him eventually. “Hello!” she said, waving down at the man.
“The name’s Morceau Oleander, nice to meet you, Camilla,” he said with a toothy grin. “I’d save you from Sasha’s boring tour if I wasn’t about to give the biggest presentation of my life!”
She was immediately curious and about to ask when Sasha cut in, using telekinesis to grab one of Morceau’s papers away from him and take a look at it. “What presentation might that be? Trying to steal important research funds for another one of your weapons projects?”
“Not this time!” he responded gleefully, taking a weight off of Milla’s mind that formed when Sasha mentioned weapons. “I’ve been reworking my summer camp program idea for the last few years, and it’s finally ready for Truman’s approval. There’s no way he’ll say no this time!”
Sasha shook his head slowly and Milla glanced between the two of them. “Summer camp program?”
“About five years ago, Morry here came up with the idea of starting a program for training young psychics to control their powers,” Sasha answered, interrupting an excitable Oleander. “The concept isn’t terrible, but he was rejected outright. There wasn’t enough interest or funding at the time.”
“But that’s all about to change!” Morceau added quickly. “There’s already talk about a teen intern program starting up, which means that’s all the more reason to start training even younger! Think about all the psychic incidents we can prevent if kids start learning how to use their powers before puberty!”
Milla tilted her head slightly. Though she understood his points, it was an odd way to phrase it. She didn’t quite know how she felt about the idea - anything to keep children safe was good in her book, but Morceau seemed very…intense.
“I’ve got a bunch of potential locations picked out - all in the middle of the woods, none of them too far from here that they’d be annoying to drive to.” Oleander reached out and grabbed the paper Sasha had taken earlier, stuffing it back under his arm. “After this presentation is over, Nein, get ready to lose your Youngest Psychonaut title! Maybe it’ll go to Abe’s daughter instead!”
Sasha shook his head. “It’s Ah-bey, not Abe. And Agent Bubai’s daughter is two.”
Milla pouted for a brief moment, hearing Sasha correct Morceau’s name pronunciation. She felt the urge to bring up her own name, but she still couldn’t do it. She’d waited too long and now he’d already introduced her to someone else, it’d be too uncomfortable. For everyone.
“Two, ten, what’s the difference? A psychic’s a psychic!” Morceau smiled again. “Anyway, can’t be late, stop distracting me, Nein! Camilla - don’t let him bore you to death, alright?”
“Ah…alright, I’ll make sure he doesn’t,” she answered awkwardly, not entirely comfortable with the level of banter between the two of them. She was honestly surprised that Sasha had such a relationship with anyone at the organization, considering how most people looked at him.
Oleander just laughed and continued to the Nerve Center, leaving the two of them alone again. Milla wondered if Sasha was going to circle back to the conversation they’d been having before, which she didn’t really want to go back to. She didn’t want to dump her traumatic history onto him in the first twenty minutes of knowing each other.
“I apologize for him. He’s…” Sasha paused, clearly trying to find a nicer way to say whatever was on his mind. “...excitable. But he means well. Generally.”
“It’s no problem!” Milla smiled. “I hope his presentation goes well.”
“Yes, well…Grand Head Zanotto is always open to new ideas. But Agent Forsythe will likely be there, too, and she’s more realistic about these sorts of things.”
“Has Truman been the Grand Head for long?” she asked curiously. “We got to know each other a bit over the past few months, but he didn’t tell me much about his history with the Psychonauts.”
Sasha adjusted his glasses and turned around, motioning one hand towards the sculpture in the wall. “I can give you a quick summary of our history.”
They walked over to the mural and Milla stepped close to take it all in while Sasha spoke. “These are the Psychic 6, founders of the Psychonauts. They came to this area in the 60s and opened the Motherlobe in early 1970. Grand Head Zanotto was recruited by the Psychic 6 before they’d officially opened, knowing they needed someone with his background to help.”
“His background?”
“He has an MBA and spent several years working at a large pharmaceutical company before this. None of the Psychic 6 were as…business-minded.” Sasha took another drag of his cigarette, frowning at the realization that it was almost done. He didn’t want to smoke as often as he did, but being thrown into a potentially stressful social situation had warranted it.
Milla nodded, looking at each person depicted in front of her. “Are they all still working here?”
Starting from the left, Sasha answered, “Otto Mentallis - yes, he still works here. His lab is across the Quarry. Compton Boole - his situation is complicated. He is still in the area and occasionally participates in Psychonauts-related activities. Mostly he spends his time in psychoisolation.”
“...is that so?” Milla responded thoughtfully. She was reminded of her own time in psychoisolation and how much she’d love to never go back.
“Ford Cruller - also still works here. But not as a Psychonaut. He was psychically injured in the Battle of Grulovia and can’t maintain his focus for very long. But you’ll likely see him around, in the bowling alley or the hair salon. Or the mailroom, even.”
Milla was confused by that, but kept her mouth shut. She knew bits and pieces about the Battle of Grulovia - she was a teenager when it happened and didn’t pay too much attention to world news, but the reports on that conflict were the first time she’d heard the word Psychonaut.
“Bob Zanotto - the uncle of Grand Head Zanotto.” Sasha frowned, knowing the full story of Bob’s departure even though he hadn’t joined yet at that time. “He no longer works here. Helmut Fullbear - died in the Battle of Grulovia.”
“Oh.” Milla’s eyes focused on the linked arms between Helmut and Bob’s images and she immediately understood what it meant. Her shoulders sank. “That’s terrible.”
Sasha adjusted his sunglasses again, realizing that Milla already noticed something that it took him several months to understand. She was definitely more of a people person than he’d ever been. “And Cassie O’Pia - no longer here. But we still utilize her methods.”
In a sudden mood change, Milla brightened. “Ah, she wrote Mindswarm, right? Truman gave me a copy of that book when we first met. It was eye-opening.”
“Yes, yes she did. She has an exemplary psychic mind,” Sasha noted. “I hope to meet her someday, if she ever comes back.”
They spent the next twenty minutes circling the lobby, Sasha explaining what he could about each location they could see and introducing her to anyone who came up to ask who she was. Milla thought back to the woman at the front desk who seemed helplessly nervous in front of Sasha and was happy to see that the agents they’d interacted with so far didn’t seem to have that same fear. A lot of them made jokes that led to Sasha’s frown deepening, but at least they were attempting to be friendly with him.
He guided them up a ramp and Milla was immediately distracted by a gigantic and beautiful fish tank to their left. She smiled at all the colorful fish swimming around. “This is lovely!” she said genuinely.
Sasha nodded, though he clearly didn’t have the same level of enthusiasm that she did. “The Psychonauts used to have some underwater locations. When they were closed, this aquarium was built to remind displaced agents of their previous offices.”
Milla chuckled at that. “An underwater office sounds a bit scary, if you ask me.”
“I agree,” he said.
The monotone in his voice made her think that he might’ve worked at one of those underwater bases for a period of time. Milla decided she would not be asking him about that, just in case it was a sore subject.
“My office is just up this way.” Sasha likely didn’t intend to sound proud, but it seemed like he had a pretty big office, and that was impressive for someone of his age.
(At least, Milla thought it’d be impressive for his age. She couldn’t completely gauge how old he was.)
They approached the end of the hallway and found three doors staring back at them. Milla glanced at each and turned towards her guide. “Some other offices, I’m guessing?”
“Agent Hollis Forsythe is in the office next to mine,” he answered quickly. “Though I doubt she’ll be here for long.”
“I’ve definitely heard that name before…iIs she leaving?”
“Not at all. She’s been with the Psychonauts even longer than I have, and Grand Head Zanotto has been discussing promoting her to some sort of Vice Head position. I don’t believe it has an official name yet.” He shrugged. “Grand Head Zanotto has been…struggling a bit. With balancing his work and home life.”
“Oh, yes, he mentioned that to me at one point,” Milla added. She understood at the time that Truman was just trying to relate to her and get her to trust him; she didn’t realize until much later that he’d been telling her the truth. “That he and his wife were, um…having issues.”
“Yes, well…” Sasha paused, not sure if the news was out yet, but also not really caring if he wasn’t supposed to say anything. “Now his wife is pregnant.”
“Ah.” Milla wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. She remembered all the things Truman had said about his relationship with his wife, and she didn’t think a baby would be able to fix their problems. Still…it wasn’t her business.
“Despite what Morceau thinks, Grand Head Zanotto’s child will likely be the one to take the title of Youngest Psychonaut away from me,” Sasha said with a slightly humorous tone.
“I wanted to ask about that…how old were you when you joined?” Milla asked curiously.
“Nineteen,” he answered quickly, like he expected this question to come up at some point. “I first learned about the Psychonauts after the Battle of Grulovia - I don’t know how well that was reported in Brazil, but I was still living in Germany at the time and Grulovia is only a few borders away. From there I earned enough money to come to America and sought out the Psychonauts myself.”
Milla nodded along, curious about the details but not wanting to pry. “So you weren’t recruited?”
Sasha shook his head. “My psychic powers manifested at a very young age, well before the Psychonauts were founded. Before joining, Mindswarm was the closest thing I had to a psychic instruction manual.”
She nodded again, not quite sure how to respond. Milla thought it was sad, the way he spoke sounded very disconnected and unemotional, but she wondered if that was his way of coping with something unfortunate. She knew not to ask, though, and kept those thoughts to herself. “Everyone’s experience with joining seems very unique.”
“Indeed.”
As she was about to say something else, Sasha guided her into his office - which turned out to be sort of a combination office and laboratory. Milla wasn’t surprised, he spoke very scientifically, occasionally using words that she had to think about for a moment before understanding.
“There isn’t really much here for me to show you. Many of my projects are classified and I’ve not been made aware of what you have access to yet.” He glanced around, eyes landing on his small office space. He used telekinesis to open a drawer and pulled out a new pack of cigarettes, bringing them over. “If you do ever need anything from me, you can generally find me here.”
Milla smiled brightly at that, more appreciative of the offer than he probably realized. “I just might take you up on that, Agent Nein!”
He ran his fingers through his hair again and tried to think of what else he could show her. “You may have seen that across from this wing there’s a lot of construction going on - previously it was just used for storage, but we’re adding more offices and a classroom down that way.”
They left his office while talking, headed back towards the lobby.
“A classroom? For the…teen intern program?” she asked.
“The intention is for use in Continuing Psychic Education,” Sasha answered, pulling out one of his new cigarettes and psychically lighting it without a second thought.
Milla twitched slightly at the sudden smell of fire, but quickly shook it off. It wasn’t the same.
“CPE is a new program, but important. Making sure that older psychics keep up with new abilities or skills that younger psychics have discovered or developed.” He took his first drag of the new cigarette, inhaling slowly like it was a significantly better experience than the last one. “No one is too old to learn new skills, after all.”
Milla had never smoked cigarettes herself. She smoked marijuana when she was a teenager, but quit all of that when she started working at the orphanage. The orphans were her everything - she gave up partying and anything adjacent to the party lifestyle when she was working there. It’d been the most fulfilling part of her life, by far.
She hoped that working with the Psychonauts would prove just as fulfilling.
The two of them made their way back into the lobby after Milla took another minute to admire the aquarium. As they entered, Milla noticed an older man handing out letters outside the mailroom and pointed him out to her guide.
“That’s Ford Cruller, one of the Psychic 6 I mentioned earlier.” Sasha stared at the man. “I could introduce you, if you’d like, but I can’t guarantee he’ll remember you.”
“It’s worth a shot, right?” Milla asked cheekily. “I like to think I’m pretty memorable!”
She floated towards the mailroom, and Sasha followed her after taking another long, long drag from his cigarette.
They were just a few feet away from Ford when two agents chatting nearby mentioned the time, and Milla glanced up at the nearest clock. “Oh, it’s already noon!”
Sasha followed her line of sight, almost like he didn’t believe her. “So it is. That was a quick two hours. But you should head to the Noodle Bowl for your meeting with Grand Head Zanotto, he probably has another meeting right after.”
“The Noodle Bowl…” Milla repeated, looking around. “Can you remind me where that is?”
He pointed directly behind them and Milla turned around to see the giant sign above the doorway that he’d shown her just an hour earlier. She smiled sheepishly. “Thank you, Sasha. Er, Agent Nein. Or…I’m so sorry, I never actually asked.” Milla felt terribly rude at that moment, though she had a distinct feeling that he didn’t care either way.
“Either is fine,” he answered, smoking again. “I hope your meeting goes well, Agent Vodello.”
Before she could really say anything else, he headed off - right back towards his office. She also noted that that was her first time being referred to as Agent Vodello, and she definitely liked the sound of it. Even though she wasn’t really sure if she counted as an Agent just yet; it was hard to know exactly where she stood until she talked to the person in charge.
She caught one last glimpse of Sasha before he was gone. Milla thought he seemed nice, though not the most personable, and wondered in a brief bout of insecurity if he found the task of guiding her around annoying. She hoped he didn’t have a bad time, at the very least.
But rather than get caught in a loop of self-deprecation and anxiety, Milla took a few deep breaths and made her way towards the lunchroom. Truman was already seated inside and waved her over as soon as he noticed her. She floated towards him and took a seat, surprised to see that there was already a rice and veggie bowl sitting in front of her.
“I took the liberty of ordering for you - hope you like cilantro!” Truman said with a smile.
Milla didn’t get the chance to answer before he continued, though she was excited to eat since she did love cilantro.
“How was everything so far? Good? Interesting? Was Agent Nein helpful?” he asked, shoveling rice from his own bowl into his mouth.
“Ah…yes, it was very interesting! And Agent Nein was extremely helpful. He answered every question I had in detail, and helped me sign up in the Thinkerprint system.” She ate her food much more slowly - it didn’t take a genius to realize that he was probably already thinking about his next meeting. She couldn’t imagine having such a busy schedule.
“Oh good, that’s great to hear!” Truman smiled, a little bit of cilantro stuck between two of his teeth. “He’s not the most social, but I know how much you appreciate a quiet mind.”
Milla nodded thoughtfully. “It was pleasant, I couldn’t get a thought or feeling out of him. Almost made me feel like my old self again,” she said quickly. “And how was your meeting this morning?”
“Excellent! Exciting, even,” he answered quickly. “Well, first there was a not-so-exciting financial meeting with Agent Forsythe. But then another one of our agents came to me with a project idea that I’m really looking forward to working on. It’ll be a big undertaking, but certainly worth the effort if all goes well.”
“Was that Morceau’s summer camp idea?” she asked. “Sasha and I bumped into him earlier and he told us about it.”
“Oh, good, you already know!” Truman took another few bites, and then finally took a sip of his water. “We’re already in the process of building a classroom for training, but it’ll be more useful if we have younger psychics studying and training here.”
“Is it, um…” She took a moment to collect her thoughts. “Did Morceau’s plan seem…safe? For the children, I mean.”
“Oh, yes,” Truman answered, nodding. “Agent Oleander spent a lot of time talking about safety. Especially prioritizing keeping their brains safe, making sure none of the kids get overloaded by all the psychic exposure.” He took a moment to eat again, then added, “He comes from a military background, so I recommended he bring some…softer agents as other camp counselors. For balance, of course.”
She sipped her water slowly, thinking carefully about her response.
“I wouldn’t ask you to help, of course, not so soon after…but if you have any suggestions or recommendations for making sure it’s a kid-friendly environment, let me or Agents Forsythe or Oleander know! We’re still in very early planning stages, it’ll probably be several years before this camp is fully realized.”
“Thank you,” she answered, appreciating his discretion towards her situation. Part of her knew she’d really enjoy working with children again, but…she didn’t think she was ready. Maybe by the time they opened the camp, she would be, but who could say for sure? “I also…I wanted to say I’m sorry about your uncle’s husband.”
Truman froze, fork in his mouth, clearly not expecting that. He put the fork down and cleared his throat. “I appreciate that. Sasha told you all the details of the battle, did he?”
“Not exactly, but he did tell me about the Psychic 6 and showed me the mural in the lobby.” Milla took another bite. “He was about to introduce me to, ah…Agent Cruller, I think it was, but then we realized I was running late.”
“Ford, right. Yeah, he pops up all over the place. Something, something…his psyche was shattered, basically, during all that unpleasantness.” Truman recited the information with some disconnection; it was clearly a sad subject for everyone. “If you do want to learn more, Otto Mentallis is the best man to talk to. Sanest of the six and works just across the water!”
“Sasha mentioned as much, but it’s good to know!” Milla smiled. “I’ll try to focus on the present for now - perhaps I’ll talk to him another time.”
They continued to chat for another few minutes before Truman paused and put two fingers to his forehead, just like he had that morning. He grimaced and let out a deep sigh. “Sorry for cutting this short, but I think I need to go talk to my wife. Hollis is saying she’s on the phone waiting for me!” he said with an insincere laugh.
“No problem,” Milla answered, only halfway done with her food. “I’ll be fine on my own for a while!”
“Excellent,” he said with another toothy smile, cilantro still awkwardly there. “Introduce yourself around, Agent Vodello, everyone here is very nice. We’ll talk more when I’m free again.” And with that, he levitated out of the room.
She stared out of the Noodle Bowl, taking another bite of her food. After a moment, Milla realized she forgot to congratulate him on the pregnancy - but then decided it wasn’t necessary. He didn’t mention it to her, so she’d pretend she didn’t know about it yet.
“Hi there!”
Milla turned her head to find a woman with yellow skin and long red hair smiling at her. “Oh, hello!” she responded, taking another bite from her bowl.
The woman sat down next to Milla and leaned forward on her elbows. “You’re Camilla, right?”
Once again, pronounced how Sasha was saying it. Milla wasn’t sure she had any way to turn things around without making Sasha look like a fool. “That’s me,” she answered.
“I’m Sherri!” she said excitedly, running a hand through her hair. “I noticed you walking around with Agent Nein earlier - now, yeah, he’s a super smart guy. Very knowledgeable. But you seem cool and fun, and he doesn’t know anything about cool or fun. So I’d be happy to show you around some other areas of the Motherlobe when you’re done.”
Milla blinked a few times at that, not sure if she was offended on Sasha’s behalf or if she agreed. He didn’t seem like the kind of person who cared about cool or fun, but Sherri was right - Milla liked to have fun. It would be nice to get to know some other Psychonauts who shared some of her interests. So she decided to take the compliment and the offer. “Oh, yes, thank you - that’d be very nice.”
#psychonauts#milla vodello#sasha nein#truman zanotto#morceau oleander#science party#lunchtime yoga#sashamilla#carrofics#carro art#yayyyy its starting
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ellooooooo !
if you're open to talk about this, i wanted to bring up Leon's character arc throughout re4make, the change and redemption that he went through but also some other very intentional changes capcom has made for him as a character in comparison to og but also his relationship with other characters eg; Ada, Ashley and Luis mostly -- this might not be surprising at all but i am downright tiiiired of majority of the fandom takes on him and especially when it comes to the shipping reasons because for the life of me, i don't think anyone is capable of looking at things objectively here.
I don't really ship him with anyone so i'll just get this out here, most prominent changes and development of his character to me was his acceptance and reconciliation with his past (and Ada) but also him finding a redemption through Ashley and Luis (in a way). What really really did strike out the most to me was his very different relationship with Ada, in comparison to how everything felt genuine in the OG re2, in the remake things were built off from a manipulation and mistrust, at least that is how i see it.
Anyhow, i'm curious about your perspective, if this is an ask you find worth your time ofc! Do you think remake is changing Leon's outlook on Ada? Was he ever even in love with her to begin with? Was Ada in love with him? It feels very tied up to his desire to move forward but also Ada's betrayal of Wesker and breaking free from both of them in a way while going her separate way. (Sorry if this is all over the place!)
Before I start, I want to let you know I can frame any of these ships as romantic or platonic, but I do enjoy Aeon, AND, Cleon, AND Chreon, AND Serrenedy, AND my special rarepair I'm always writing for Carleon(CarlosxLeon). So I might not be the most objective perspective, but I do know how fandom does the het ships especially I'm too picky about to dive into. (Plus there are kids in there starting wars about it? Idk, I think I'll stay continue to stay off tiktok and RE twitter.)
I don't like doing much re analysis on Leon now that my immediate (several month) haze of him after the remake dropped has passed. Plus, everyone talks about him and no one seems to stop. Maybe you're looking for a perspective that doesn't explicitly shit on Ada and their weird relationship? Idk. I hope you don't mind if this reply is just as all over the place.
Let's bullet point these games.
RE2 Remake:
Ada "dies".
Marvin dies.
Random cop dies.
The shady reporter he fucking left in that cell ON PURPOSE dies in front of him.
Claire handles her own problems.
Sherry is saved by Claire.
Leon leaves alive, but a failure in a town of infected. He couldn't save anyone.
RE4 Remake:
Leon saves Ashley.
Luis dies.
Krauser is killed by him.
Ada handles her own problems.
Leon leaves alive, but is successful in a town of infected. He could save one life.
So like, has he changed? Is he still that cop from Raccoon City? Yes to both. Many of Ada's smaller moments saving Leon's ass from the OG were changed or passed to Luis. Which I think was a good narrative decision to make considering how her DLC now nicely slots into the story. Leon doesn't know if she's helping him or herself when he does see her, so there isn't going to be that lingering of "does she actually care about me?" like the OG sets up. He took aggro off her in Raccoon, so considering how many people come at him with pitchforks when Ashley isn't around, he's smart enough to connect he's still taking aggro off Ada now.
He's also so bitchy to her whenever they chill for a few seconds, it's kinda funny and kinda annoying. Petty guy. Maybe don't get captured by the government~. Sorry. I like him but I also like to shit on him. Nobody's perfect and all that jazz.
Leon gets to save one life. He couldn't save Ada in 98, but he could save Ashley. He couldn't save Marvin, or that random cop, or that shady reporter, but he could give Luis a little more time. He does "save" Ada at the end there, but she did save him and Ashley first from that second to last Saddler encounter. It's not in him to leave someone to die. He's not the kind of guy who can do that if he can change the outcome. That's why he really does try talking Krauser out of the whole cult thing.
I don't think they were in love with each other in RE2 or RE2 Remake. I think the romantic love many people latch onto for their relationship is the wrong tint to color these two with. With the OG, I think they cared about each other's safety deeply and it never quite left. Survivors of extremely traumatic events tend to just form those bonds when they shield each other from danger. Then their kiss got tinted with nostalgia and their relationship went through the hands of too many writers to give us anything solid other than Ada saves Leon and he's into it. With the Remake I think Leon was worried, and Ada misread his confusion and concern as possible chivalry bullshit she could manipulate. They're both young and relying on skills they haven't honed yet with people they don't know, and it bites them both in the ass.
In the RE4 Remake, Leon does know when to shut the fuck up unlike OG RE4. If he didn't care about Ada a little bit, if what she wanted from him didn't matter since she had been staying mostly out of the way up to this point, if he was so hyperfocused on only Ashley, he wouldn't have wasted time or energy talking to Ada. He didn't get really any information with their little spar about her goals, so what was the point of having that weird venting conversation in the boat? Why did he need her to confirm if he'd changed or not when Claire was likely a phone call away? What made Ada's opinion in that moment so valuable? Survivor's guilt? Highly likely! Maybe he's checking to see if he's not alone in that aspect, or if the woman who did need his help in Raccoon was also a farce. Maybe he wanted to know if either of them were worth saving.
And he gets that little nugget of acceptance for a moment. He does save Ashley, and Ada helps him achieve it! Maybe she isn't so bad! He does save Ada afterwards, but oop nope she takes the wrong path. Just like Krauser. Leon knows he doesn't want to do this song and dance with her in the future. Like, he just can't, hence the title drop/ separate ways comment. He's saying she's made her choice and he's making his, but she gives him that little key to safety one more time.
I still think Luis had more of an effect on Ada's final decision to betray Wesker and ditch. My friend will disagree with me due to her OG RE4 bias, but OG Luis wasn't a character. Remake Luis very much IS a developed character, which is why there was a huge boom with shipping him in the fandom. Check the numbers of the Leon/Luis ship on AO3 before and after the remake dropped. There is a reason for this.
Oof, this got rambly and long. My apologies.
TLDR: I don't think Remake Ada and Leon are in love with each other, but I do think their relationship is more complex than what fandom waters it down to. The trauma bonding they gained in '98, which does make them care about each other's safety, but opposing goals career wise is going to cause conflict whenever they meet. Remake Leon can try to cut ties all he wants, but he won't know if they'll end up in the same place until it happens. And if she needs help to survive, he'll help her as much as she'll help him. They won't babysit each other. Far from it! They won't be hunting for, or looking for, or checking on each other in the slightest. Their remake dynamic is best framed as "out of sight, out of mind", so when they are in sight, those are the moments that matter.
I like to think they both have more pressing problems than each other outside of when they run into each other.
#resident evil#re4#re4 remake#leon kennedy#ada wong#re anaylsis#anonymous#long post#heh nothin personal kid
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10 and 33? any ship you want :)
omg, I am so sorry this took so incredibly long nini ;-; spent too much time waffling over what I wanted to write wah. can't remember exactly what prompt list this was from, but I do know it was something like 50 prompts to show affection or smth.
(takes place in a Beauty and the Beast Au, but with some differences. the rose is a crystal, and everyone in the castle is infected with some form of the Mold. the crystal keeps the infection at bay)
10 and 33, Lingering Hugs and First Dates
After all is said and done, Leon feels light. No more threats hung over their heads, no secrets being kept from him. He feels surprisingly okay, given the events that occurred.
The castle is a mess, doors splintered, tapestries ripped, furniture broken. Blood stains the once pristine halls, but it doesn’t matter because everyone is alive.
Alive and no longer able to be controlled by Miranda, because ding dong, the wicked bitch is dead.
Leon snickers at the thought as he wanders the halls, steps light, shoes catching on broken glass and crunching. Everyone is holed up in the library, tending to wounds. He left Sherry there with them, trusting Claire to take care of her.
Well, let’s revise that. Almost everyone is there. Except one recently beast turned man.
Crunch, crunch, crunch. Glass crackles and breaks under his feet as he heads to the room.
The door is open, just barely. There’s more glass on the floor, some of it dimming from a vibrant green to black. The crystal that had kept the residents of the castle sane, despite being infected.
There’s a silhouette of a person in the door leading to the balcony.
“Chris?” Leon calls, more glass crunching underfoot. A hum answers him, the sound tired. Leon frowns a bit, finally coming up beside him.
“You know you don’t have to guard here anymore. It’s over,” he tries, gently prodding his arm.
He makes a small noise of surprise when he’s brought into a hug, but is quick to get comfortable, slotting his head into the crook of Chris’s neck. Chris mirrors him, nose poking the nape of Leon’s neck as he takes measured breaths.
Now Leon is a bit concerned.
“Chris, c’mon. What’s wrong?” Leon asks, and something must bleed into his tone, because Chris huffs, warm air fanning out against his neck.
“Nothing. It’s just. It’s over,” Chris says, the sounds slipping out like a gust of air, relief evident in his voice. Chris suddenly stiffens, pulling away from the hug, looking Leon over.
“I’m fine, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me, big guy,” Leon says, trying not to laugh as big hands gently pat him down. Chris sighs his relief, tipping his head forward to press a kiss against his forehead, then moving on to pepper his face with kisses. Leon’s
“I think I’m always going to worry about you after that stunt you pulled. Leaving the walls? You had to have known that Krauser was lying to you,” Chris scolds, but he sounds tired. Tired and a little scared, even though it’s all over.
Leon shrugs, bringing his hands up to hold Chris’s face, thumb brushing under deep eye bags, from years of guarding the one place that kept him and his family safe. Leon hadn’t been here for long, but he had a taste of it. The unending loyalty and love that each person in this castle shared.
“I was willing to take that chance. What I wasn’t willing to have happen was the crystal failing and everyone here getting turned into the things out there,” Leon replies with a little shrug. Chris opens his mouth, to argue probably, but Leon shuts him up by brushing his thumb over his lips, which are chapped to hell and back. “C’mon. You can argue later, when everyone is better rested and not riding the high from surviving the night.”
Chris rolls his eyes but leans forward to press his lips to Leon’s. “Fine. And when we’re done with that I’m taking you on a proper date. Not that whole… skirting around each other thing we did before.”
Leon quirks his lips into an amused smile. “Yeah? A proper first date?”
Chris nods, pressing one last kiss to his mouth before they exit the room. That warm feeling is back, lingering as they walk through the ruins of the castle, towards the library. Their hands clasped together, glass crunching under their feet. Reaching in front of the library, opening the door.
Everyone is inside, all of them more or less safe. Leon feels whatever tension that’s left in Chris drain away as he walks towards them, bundling Claire up in his arms. She melts into the hold, the two of them murmuring to each other. Sherry is asleep behind them, probably exhausted from the day’s events.
He looks around the library, also relaxing. Carlos and Jill are in one corner, chatting with each other as Jill wraps Carlos’s arm with gauze, tending to the cut. Rebecca is watching them from the bench by the windowsill, looking ready to fall asleep. Karl, one of Miranda’s old charges, has an arm slung over Ethan’s shoulder, face buried in blonde hair. Rose is babbling in Ethan’s arms, reaching for the man’s fingers as he dangles them in front of her face, keeping her occupied.
Everyone is safe and tomorrow, they’ll deal with the damage. But right now? Right now, they’ll rest.
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