#oc: bank teller

[mintytealfox]

A Bank Teller, out of a job cause of the Great Depression, named Gilbert who decided to latch onto this western girl (who looks like a walking time capsule) that won't let go of the past and seems like she knows where she is going in this confusing chaotic economic crash.

He ends up being extremely helpful with his ability to crack any safe and lock lol

So he is a decoder that has no business rescuing cause he has no helpful abilities in that regard lol He decodes FAST and knows where the hunter is at all times cause of his intensive bank teller training (they legit used to train them how to use guns and look out for signs to stop robbers on their own when police aren't around. So that training helps him know and keep tabs on where the hunter is while he is decoding quick quick but the closer the hunter gets the slower his decoding gets so its good to keep a decent distance at all times) (it could also be the other way around though.(the closer to the hunter the faster he decodes) that he moves faster under pressure which would encourage him to stay near danger to put that element of risk for reward there 👀 )

[artbyblastweave]

New OC is a powerful telekinetic who moonlights as a fortune teller. No telepathic or clairvoyant capabilities whatsoever but she's correctly banking on her clientele not having the greatest grasp of which psionic abilities come bundled together

[morning-sun-brah]

Here's few ideas (typing aggressively on my phone):

- Mafia AU where Leo (40s or 50s) is the boss while reader (30 or 40s or any age you want to put) is the secretary while begin a huge simp of their boss Leo.

- Rockstar AU: Reader begin a pop star, idol or a singer who isn't in the rock genre but they and Leo are doing a collab or singing battle against each other (Leo vs reader the winner is the one who's getting votes from the audience online).

- tactical AU as reader is a doctor who's working on making a kraang virus cure and F!Leo is protecting them because his teammate and family passed away because of this virus.

- F!Leo begin reader's neighbor and started living in the apartment next door after a nasty divorce. Reader could be a single mother who's pregnant with her child. The two are growing from neighbors to friends to slowly falling for each other (something wholesome and fluff as it comfort and healing from previous wounds).

*drop on my knees/hj* i hope you like them master/hj

I might be under the weather, but I have this in my back pocket...

So, once upon a time, @starrcrossrose and I worked on a Mafia AU (so if you like this, make sure you throw a thank you at her head like a grenade). I have... quite a few more snippets I can share of these two- if anyone is interested, and I am not opposed to writing the occasional ask for this if it fits into the story (i.e.; Leo goes into the bank and x-y-z happens).

Also, @snipersiniora; THANK YOU FOR THE ASK AND THE PROMPTS. I'm keeping them all and I'll eyeball some of the other ones for ~later~. That said, the end game for this is exactly what your prompt was- the OC absolutely is supposed to end up as Leon's secretary/assistant.

Eventual smut, as an fyi, but nothing here other than set up. MINORS DNI, though! This is going to be shared in parts, and it will (eventually) be explicit. I should know, I've heard about a specific scene I've shared from the smut for ages, from friends who have seen it. (as an aside- I realize that Vivian is Julie coded, and that I've also used the name Vivian in a different fic. Shhhh....)

Gonna try out this whole sharing a fic on tumblr jazz. Definitely not nervous about it haha (a lie).

MAFIA AU UNDER THE CUT.

Summary; Leon has been in charge for a while now. Over a decade, actually. He's not really the same person anymore, not to the public and certainly not at a glance. He's... more. A mythos, almost. He's given a wide berth, talked about in hushed voices, and regarded with a healthy mix of fear and respect.

Too bad Vivian doesn't know who the fuck he is.

Marked mature for eventual smut. Ongoing. Leon x OC. OC uses she/her pronouns. Bank teller OC, Mafia Boss Leon. Aged up Ninja Turtles (an in, in their late 30's/pushing 40). Some violence and questionable activity on Leo's part. Where do you find your ride-or-die? In the bank, obviously. Don't like, don't read, you know the song and dance.

Next>

“I can help you, big guy.” 

To say Leon hadn’t already noticed her would be a lie. The pale blonde of her hair, down and straightened with a few frayed ends. The big white smile she kept painted on her face. The way her laughter carried through the high walls of the bank and echoed throughout. When he’d gotten close enough in the line- refusing to cut even when it was offered (and it was offered more than once)- he’d heard the way she spoke to each individual person. It was different with each new customer. Sometimes she was calm and to the point- talking quickly and keeping conversations short with patrons who clearly had further things to do and no interest in chatting. With others, it was casual and teasing, repeat customers or someone who she’d decided she could easily chat with, who would be comfortable with mild silliness.

At first, Leon had waited there in line annoyed, grouchy, and exhausted. He’d had a long night of strategizing with Donatello, and he’d only gotten a few hours of sleep on his office couch before peeling open his eyes and crawling to the bathroom to freshen up. He’d changed into one of his spare suites, glaring at his prosthetic arm and deciding it was a weight he didn’t want to carry today (and never mind that Donnie had started nagging him to wear it more often). 

By eight am he was ready for a pot of coffee and a day of phone calls. But there had been no coffee in the pot at reception, and there had been no receptionist, either. 

One glance at his phone told him why- and he’d answered the call (he’d missed six others) with a groan of irritation.

“Robert’s in the hospital!”  

His secretary, Betty, had half sobbed the words, the fifty-something-year-old woman in a panic because her eighty-something-year-old husband had collapsed in the middle of coitus (which- Leon had always thought was the point of Betty marrying an older man- but her worry over the phone made him wonder if she actually cared for the geriatric she called her husband. That, or his last will in testament hadn’t been settled). 

Leon had told her not to worry, to take as much time as she needed. He’d also promised to complete her errands himself- insisting on it even when she offered to send her nephew in her stead. Leo had scoffed; the last thing he wanted was Betty’s nephew in his office, sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. Instead, he’d made a list, listening to Betty as she rattled off everything that needed to be done before five. 

It was errands. How hard could errands be?

The morning had been a shitshow. 

The dry cleaners just down the street had misplaced two of his suits, and the owner had kept him much too long to apologize- nearly in tears even after Leon had insisted it was fine (it wasn’t- those were tailored Armani suits and he needed them back, goddamnit). Then he’d rescheduled all his appointments for the day- which was a hard thing to do when the person you don’t want to talk to was the one you were calling. Most of the calls had devolved into business, no matter how hard he tried to insist he didn’t have the time, and Leon had ended up just texting the last three and hoping that it wouldn’t reflect poorly on his business- unable to tolerate another voice saying “hey, while I have you on the phone,” and keeping his ear longer than he wanted. 

Still no coffee, and it had been nearing ten in the morning. 

Leon had nabbed his driver, Otto, from where he lounged in the lobby- snapping his fingers as he stalked passed and hearing the younger man scramble to get to the car before him. He’d slipped into the back of the black Rolls Royce and ignored his stomach when it growled loudly, resolved to get the last of the tasks off his list by noon- and when it was all done he was going to treat himself to a Ruben the size of his face and a bottle of whiskey. 

They’d gone to Queens to drop off a delivery, and again he’d been held up by the owner of the laundromat- who had nearly pissed himself when Leon walked in. Leon never walked in. Not unless there was a problem.

By early afternoon the list was only a third of the way to being completed, and he still hadn’t had coffee.

So he waited in line at the bank, the Royce and young Otto idling at the curb- right in front of a fire hydrant, too, because there wasn’t a cop on patrol who didn’t know to keep moving. Depositing a check shouldn’t be overly hard… Though, the last time he’d done it was in his early twenties. He didn’t think it was customary to actually head into the bank and do it in person anymore. In fact, he was sure he’d seen a commercial or two, when he had time for television, that exalted the benefits of snapping a picture and having it all done within a few moments. 

If that was the case, though, Betty was the one who knew how to do it. She ran his life, practically, and with her husband in the hospital she wasn’t in any situation to explain it to him. Certainly he wasn’t going to call her. 

“Hey, Bett’s. I know your old man is in critical condition, but mind explaining how this shit works? Thanks, Doll.”

He might be an asshole- but he wasn’t a monster. … Depending on who you asked, anyway. 

So he’d been annoyed, standing head over shoulders taller than any human in the bank and ignoring the wide berth he was given, jaw ticking as the line sluggishly moved along, half tempted to take up the offers to cut the line and be done with it. But she’d caught his eye, and with nothing better to do he’d just watched her, watched the way she spoke, the way she moved. Took in the loose cotton of her sage green top that stretched over an ample chest, the glint of gold in her jewelry- large hoops that swayed in her ears and chunky rings on every other finger. The way her eyes hardly left her computer screen as her fingers flew over the keyboard. The way her lips would occasionally wrap around the lid of a paper coffee cup that was stained mauve from her lipstick. 

Fall colors, Mikey had taught him. She was wearing fall colors. He wondered if she matched everything to the season. He wondered how high-maintenance she was, how fussy. He wondered how long she’d spent in the bathroom before she came to work, how carefully she’d painted her face. 

Not that he was complaining. 

Maybe other men weren’t into the look she presented. Certainly, she wore makeup, dyed her hair, and wore a shirt a little too revealing. He could already tell she was loud, with the way her voice carried through the bank, could tell that she’d have no qualms reading someone to filth if they were rude to her. But Leo was already half-smitten with her, even before she called him “big guy.” 

That had just sealed the deal, honestly. That, and every single word that had left her mouth from then on. 

He walked to her raised counter, her greeting lingering in the air. The woman who stood behind Leon in line sucked in a sharp breath at the address, as though she were steeling herself for an onslaught of profanity, maybe even violence. Which made sense, really. People knew Leon. He had a reputation. Casualness was a no-no. Calling him anything other than ‘Sir,’ or ‘Mr. Hamato’ was a good way to find yourself in trouble. Maybe Leon should be offended that he instilled such fear, such caution, but as it had been that way for over a decade, he decided that he still enjoyed the reaction- no matter what it said about him. But the teller didn’t know him, didn’t recognize him, and all at once he knew he wasn’t going to correct her. 

“Whatcha got for me?” The blonde asked, pushing her large framed glasses up the bridge of her nose. It gave her a slutty librarian look, Leo would later think- not bothering to feel bad about the assessment. 

He peered at her name tag. “Hello, Vivian.”

For a moment, her eyes held confusion, then she blew out a loud, punctuated breath. 

“I forget I have this thing on, half the time,” she expelled, a high little laugh on her lips and her hand on her chest, fingers fiddling with the plastic pin. “I was about to ask how the hell you knew my name.”

Leon shook his head, a little tsking sound on his lips as though to assure he wasn’t some derelict. “Need to deposit a check.” 

“Well, let's see the deposit slip. Come on, come on,” she rushed, grinning at him so wide he wondered if her cheeks hurt. He skated the slip across the laminate counter, which he’d filled out when he first entered the bank, all hunched over and muttering in irritation (something that was lost in the wind, now). The check he kept in his palm, understanding directions when he was given them, holding onto it until she asked for its production. 

“You new to New York?” he asked, leaning against the counter and watching her as she glanced at the slip he’d slid to her, her hands folded one on top of the other as she peered down at it.  

“What gave it away?”

“Your accent is very neutral.” 

“Is it? I guess it would be. You sound like you’ve lived here all your life.”

Leon gave an easy smile. “Midwest?” 

“Oh lord, are you a cop?”

“Hmm, not quite.” 

“Well, you got it right. Dead center of the Midwest. Iowa.” 

She still hadn’t picked up the bank slip, just eyed it with an arched brow, and she gave him an assessing gaze before asking, “How often do you make deposits, big man?”

God, he liked that. It fed his ego just the right way, having some pretty bank teller with long lashes and big doe-eyes calling him big man, big guy. Leon cocked his head to the side a bit, ignoring the little thrill that shot through him. “Why?” 

“I’m just wondering how much shit I need to give you for filling out a withdrawal slip, instead of a deposit.”

Leo bared his teeth in an apologetic cringe. “My secretary usually handles this,” he explained, nose all scrunched at the excuse. He sounded like an asshole, maybe, using the words my secretary, like he was incapable of doing anything on his own- coddled and babied.   

She cut him a look, glancing at him quickly as though to gauge his expression, his apology. Then her lips tipped into a paltry smile, her eyes rolling as she gave an exaggerated sigh.

“It’s alright,” she allowed, procuring the correct slip from a drawer, nails clicking over every surface as she moved. “I’ll fill it out… You know you can do all this over your phone, right? Just snap a picture of the check and move on with your day?” Then, with eyes that seemed to dance, she added, “Are you too old to know how to work the app?”

Leon raised a brow ridge (the audacity) and shook his head. 

“I’m old-school, not old.” 

She gave a non-committal hum, and Leo scoffed. 

“I’m not even forty!” He said in faux offense, heart jumping a little in his chest.

“The fact you said “I’m not even forty,” instead of “I’m in my thirties,” tells me exactly how close to being forty you are.”

At that, he barked a loud, surprised laugh. A laugh that took even himself by surprise. It had been… years, since someone talked to him like this. Decades, maybe. 

I was right. She doesn’t know who I am. She has no idea who I am…

“How long have you been here, Vivian?” He asked, amusement written all over his features, a light in his eyes that only his inner circle ever witnessed. 

“Oh, a couple months,” she answered from her bent forward position, using a blue ballpoint pen to handwrite his information on the correct bank slip. 

“You like it?”

She gave a little derisive snort of a laugh, then straightened to look over her shoulder. An older man with a Manager pin seemed to loom behind the counter, looking over her and Leon with a watchful gaze, and she said loudly, in a voice that carried, “I love it here!” 

She threw a cheery look at the slider and added, “This is honestly the best job I’ve ever had! I’ve only been here two months and I already feel like this is my second home, everyone here is so wonderful! It’s been such an amazing opportunity, and I love all the people and the atmosphere and-”

“He’s gone.”

“It’s awful,” she quickly transitioned, tone deadpan. “Are you kidding me? No one here is nice- except John,” she canted her chin to the man working the other window down the long counter- his long sandy blonde hair pulled back and gauges in his ears as he frowned at a harassed-looking woman who jabbered at him about late fees. “But he’s new too, so we’re in this together- like High School Musical.” 

Leon’s smile twisted higher at her honesty. “You’re telling me being a bank teller isn’t the American Dream?” 

Vivian snorted again. “Please. It is better than being in a secluded cubicle- at least I get to talk to people. But ugh, dealing with the public is terrible. No one wants to be at a bank, you know? It’s like the BMV. No one is happy to be here- and if you’re coming into the bank it’s usually because there is a problem. And then you get jokers who fill out all the wrong paperwork.”

She gave a belabored sigh before throwing him a wink, and Leo didn’t bother trying to smother his wide grin. 

“That must be terrible.” 

“It’s so terrible,” she agreed with a sage nod, crossing the ‘t’ in his last name with a flourish. “Alright, Mr. Fancy Pants, lemme see the check.”

Leo slid it to her with his thumb and didn't miss the way her eyes rounded just slightly before schooling into a neutral expression. 

“What’s that look?” He asked. 

“Just a lot of zeros,” she murmured casually.  

Like so many times now, since he’s entered the bank, Leon’s brow ridge raised high. “Are you allowed to comment on the amount someone is depositing?” he asked lightly. 

Vivian rolled her eyes. “Don’t start with me, big guy,” she began. “You’re the one who asked what the look was for.”

Leo chuckled and gave a half-shrug, “Not used to someone having such a terrible poker face.” 

She threw him a sour little scowl. “How dare you,” she quipped. “Just for that, I’m making you stand here longer.” 

Leon pressed his lips together, thought about his response, and then immediately unglued them. 

“I can live with that.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Views not so bad, at this window.”

Leon decided very quickly that, as pretty as she was, he liked the way she looked when she was blushing even more. It was a blotchy show of red and pink, from her cheeks all the way down her neck. He liked the little strangled hum she made, too, her eyes darting from his face to her computer screen, her whole body fidgeting. Nervous. Caught between preening and embarrassment, her hands twitching as though she’d like to hide her face in them. Either no one took the time to compliment her (unlikely), or she enjoyed it because it was him serving said adulation. 

She took a long sip of her coffee, clearing her throat as she did, and Leo eyed the cup and sighed loudly. Fuck. He still hadn’t had any coffee.

“What’s that about?” She asked, clearly trying to pivot without addressing what he’d said, her lips still over the lid of her cup. She wasn’t even looking at her computer screen, but one hand still tapped away on her keyboard. 

“Haven’t had coffee yet,” he admitted, some of the irritation from before, which had all fled the moment he’d looked at her, returning. “It’s been a long, long morning.” 

“I was wondering about those eye bags,” Vivian said with a smirk, laughing when he glared at her. She took another deliberately long sip of her coffee and smacked her lips. “Delicious,” she teased.

Leo shook his head. “I tell you I’m suffering and this is how you act? You’re a terrible person.” 

“Am I? And I was just about to offer you some…” 

Leo’s eyes widened, and he straightened from his leaned posture to reach out a hand. “Please,” he intoned, voice half beseeching, half in jest.

Vivian shook her head, amused, then did a double take. “Wait, really? What if I have cooties?” 

Leo scoffed. “What are you, five? I told you, I haven’t had any caffeine. I'm dying here.” He said it seriously, suddenly convinced that, with only a little pleading, he might get a taste. “Come on, sweetheart, I’ll bring you a cup if I ever have to come back into this hell hole.” 

The blush, which had begun to recede, flared back up the instant he uttered sweetheart. Still, Vivian passed him her cup after only a moment of deliberation- eyes dancing with amusement when he drank what was left in three large gulps- like some kind of parched animal. 

It was lukewarm and not nearly sweet enough- but as soon as the liquid hit his tongue, he felt more like himself. 

“What kind of man,” Vivian began with a breathy laugh, “drinks from the cup of a woman he doesn't know?” 

Leon gave a loud, pleased sigh, eyes closed and lips twitching. “The desperate kind,” he responded. 

“Yeah? Hope you don’t mind having my lipstick all over your mouth, either.” 

He looked down at the plastic lid, seeing immediately that her mauve lipstick stains were smeared across it. He gave her a toothy grin. “Is it my shade?”

“Of course it is.”

Without really thinking about what he was doing, Leo rubbed the back of his sleeve across his mouth, the white of his cuffs stained in an instant. 

“That’s a good way to get in trouble with the girlfriend,” Vivian remarked, taking the empty cup out of his hand and setting it to the side. 

“Lucky me, I don’t have one of those.” 

Leo didn’t miss the little upward tug of her lips, and a predatory glean filled in his eyes. He knew bait when he saw it- he was tempted to ask why she was fishing. Before he could say anything, though- deplorable flirting just on the tip of his tongue- Vivian gave a few loud final taps to her keyboard.

“You’re all set, Mr. Hamato,” she lilted. “Want a receipt?” Then, as though she heard her own question, added, “What am I saying of course you do. Otherwise, how will you know I didn’t skim a little off the top?”

“I wouldn’t even notice,” Leo said truthfully.

“Oh in that case.”

She printed his receipt and folded it, putting it in an envelope and sliding it across the counter. 

“Anything else, sir?” 

He was half tempted to have her tell her actually did want to make a withdrawal- just to keep talking to her. But his phone buzzed in his pocket, a reminder that someone else was counting on him, and he sighed. 

“Not a thing,” he said, all that irritation bleeding back into his body at the thought of walking away. 

“It’s been a pleasure,” she told him with a smile- a real one, too. One that reached her eyes, one that he returned, gray meeting green and holding for just a moment. “Or a nightmare, whichever you think is best.” 

Leo’s smile stretched across his face. “A pleasure, absolutely.” 

“You treated Mr. Hamato well, right?”

The question came from Vivan’s manager, William Taylor, and it had her pausing as she gathered her things at the end of the work day, her purse dangling from her shoulder, her hurried movements halted with a screech. That always happened when a superior had a question- one that was more an accusation than anything else.

“I’m sorry?” 

“Mr. Hamato,” he repeated, voice a little high, a little stressed. “Did he leave happy?” 

Vivian’s brow raised. Leonardo Hamato (and never mind that she’d remember his name, a flare of pink dusting her cheeks at the mention of him) had been inside the bank hours ago. It seemed a little odd to wait until they were closing to ask, especially if there had been a complaint. 

Had there been a complaint? Had her casual manner, which she’d thought he’d read as… charming, maybe, actually been ill-received? If that was the case, she needed to find the nearest manhole and swan dive right into it- just to escape the utter embarrassment she’d have for misreading the conversation. That, and she was definitely getting fired- no one but John even liked her (and sometimes she thought he only tolerated her).

“Uh… yeah? Yes. He left happy. He seemed happy, anyway.” She paused, bottom lip between her teeth, then added, “Did he call and complain about something…?”  

It was as though her answer was something that caused her manager great relief, because Mr. Taylor exhaled a whooshing of held breath. 

“No calls or complaints,” he replied, waving off her question. “But I wanted to be sure.” 

Before she could ask, he gave her a stern look- like a parent about to discipline their child for some perceived bad behavior. “If he comes in again, I want you to make sure he has everything he needs from us- that goes for both of you! Be nice. Accommodating. Whatever he wants, I mean it!” He barked the instruction to her co-worker, John, as well, and before Vivian could even give an affirmative he was leaving with a huff, office door slammed in his wake.

The moment it was shut, Vivian gave John a bewildered look. 

“What the fuck was that about?” 

John gave a large shrug, passive gaze conveying just how much he didn’t care. “I dunno, man. Maybe he’s a big client?” 

“Oh, he is. I saw all the zeros in his account.” Vivian glared at the closed door of the office Mr. Taylor had retreated to. “I’m always nice,” she muttered sourly. 

At that, John scoffed. “Are you?” 

“Oh fuck you! I’m so nice!” 

“You froze that lady's account the other day.”

“She called me a bimbo!”

John chuckled and shook his head. “Come on, I want a drink, and being here longer than I have to makes me depressed.”

She let it leave her mind, for a while. Let the words Mr. Taylor said to her float away as she and John played a few rounds of darts over beer and nachos- each of them refusing to talk about work when they were outside of it. Instead, they threatened to ping each other with darts and argued over the jukebox selections, and by the end of the night they giggled in a bathroom stall while using a Sharpie to add to the graffiti. Immature, maybe, but John seemed to bring out the worst in her, egging her on until she broke- hissing at her to “stop drawing the cocks so big, it’s more unsettling if they're flaccid.”

But later, in the relative quiet of her small apartment, Vivian thought about it, stewing over her manager's words as she drank down a glass of cold water and a handful of ibuprofen.

Mr. Hamato hadn’t complained, and that was a relief. She’d only been in New York City for just over two measly months, was only able to afford her questionably located apartment because of a payout she’d taken at her last job, back in Iowa, and she couldn’t afford to get fired. Not with how expensive everything was. 

God, everything was so expensive. Rent alone had her scraping to get by- even when she took a second job cleaning office buildings on the weekends. And never mind utilities and groceries and cab fare when she needed to get home from a night out with John. It left hardly any time at all to just enjoy herself, to enjoy this new lease on life. Her wings might be unclipped, but she hadn’t really been able to stretch them.

You always knew this was going to be hard. Moving to a new city, not knowing anyone. Suck it up. 

The pep talk was one she gave herself often. 

Still, Mr. Hamato hadn’t complained, and it was a relief. She might not love her job, might not even like it, but the bulk of what she earned came from the eight-to-five. She needed it, was lucky to have it, and teasing some good-looking mutant wasn’t worth the potential loss. 

So why had Mr. Taylor asked her about him? Why had he looked so worried, so nervous? Why had he seemed relieved when she’d said he’d left happy? And why oh why was he so special that she and John and everyone else who worked in the bank were told to be accommodating? Nice?

Not your circus, she thought to herself, frowning at her empty glass of water, head spinning a little from the cheap IPA still sloshing around in her stomach. Remember? Mind your business. Keep your head down. 

The thought wouldn’t leave, though. She stopped herself from searching his name on Google, showering as quickly as she could (the water heater afforded exactly three minutes of uninterrupted hot water), and crawled into bed with a loud yawn. She didn’t need to know, and she certainly didn’t need to care. He’d liked her, she thought. He’d liked the teasing, the banter. He’d flirted with her. 

Even under the covers, hours between herself and Leonardo telling her he liked the view, her cheeks blossomed pink. God, she needed to get laid, if that was all it took to get her worked up. 

Him being a literal fucking tank hadn’t hurt, though. Neither had the stormy gray eyes or the easy smile or the laugh lines. Which was stupid, probably. He looked tired and had a scar on his lip (and she shushed her mind when it tried to insist that those features made him hotter, somehow), and he exuded too much confidence. The kind of confidence that people only got when they weren’t used to being told no, she thought. He just screamed that he was the kind of man who didn’t know how to do anything but flirt, and she decided, too, that he must have a laundry list of bodies in and out of his bed. 

Be kind, you don’t know that.

Maybe not. But what she did know was that she hadn’t moved to New York just to get caught up in another man. Hell no. 

Still, Mr. Taylor’s words echoed in her mind as she drifted off to sleep, three alarms set for the morning so she wouldn’t miss her wake-up call.

Who the hell was Leonardo Hamato, that she had to tiptoe around him?

[flawnle-arts]

Day 28, Shopping

Give her money she deserves it.

Can you tell I’m losing steam with these? I kinda like this one regardless though. Features an oc(?) bank teller person that @feliciadraws helped me come up with :) they work for the bank in Sei-an

[merwynpersonalhub]

Iiiii know we don't talk all that much but I wanted to take part in the silly oc thing too kjndjknds

(art by @crispit)

This is Margo! She is really fuckin anxious and works as a bank teller. She is also part of the cult. She does not want to be in the cult. Someone save her

(art by @interdimensionalvoid)

And this is Teru! She's around Skid and Pump's age and walks around in a lil ghost costume because she 1. likes teru teru bozu dolls, and 2. is shy

"I don't want to make her uncomfortable.. If she wants i can give her a hug but if not ill give a small fist bump!"

Hi crossoverrrrrr- anyways imma give small smooch again-

"OHHH MY GOD THE BABYYYY" Your yelling.

"sorry..anyways id hug her if she doesn't mind"

hug the child

[sl-newsie]

Behind Masks (Dr. Jonathon Crane x OC) Ch. 13: Damsel Not Distressed

Some independent hero I must be. Abducted by two idiots and tied to a chair. What an icon.

How long have I been out? The sack’s still over my head.

“Where the Hell am I?” I try to give authority but my croaking voice wouldn’t startle a kitten.

“She’s awake!” One of the voices from earlier whispers nearby and heavy footsteps approach.

The sack is ripped off and sunlight blinds my eyes. On top of that my hair piles over my face and gives me no clue to where I might be. All I can see through the strands of hair is the chair I’m bound to.

“Whoever you are, I have nothing to give. Go ahead and kill me.”

“I’m afraid that’s out of the question,” a familiar voice calls from overhead.

A hand folds back my hair and a better view of my captive environment is allowed. It’s an abandoned skateboarding rink. A concrete arena. The goons who abducted me are still standing behind me. Up above is the one giving the orders. Edward Nigma.

“I’m truly sorry it’s come to this, Callie.”

Through the blazing sun I make out his new appearance. Instead of the prison suit I last saw him in, Nigma has donned black trousers, a green blazer, and green bowler hat with a giant question mark painted on it.

“Nigma, this is ridiculous. Why keep me hostage?”

“Because I need Crane to cooperate.”

“With what?”

“I need him to stop terrorizing the workers at the bank. That’s where my next scheme is. As much as he hates to admit it, he does care about you. When he sees you like this he’ll budge.”

If it weren’t so saddening I might actually laugh. From how Crane acted when he ushered me out of his lab I don’t think he holds any amount of affection for me.

“Sorry to disappoint you but he doesn’t care, Nigma. He’ll probably encourage my death. The only reason he keeps in touch is because he’s obsessed with my psychosis.”

Bang!

A gunshot rings out and I look around for the source. It’s- An umbrella? There’s a strange-looking portly man in a black suit holding an umbrella with smoke coming out. Is that umbrella a gun?

“This foolish game is taking too long, Nigma. I want assurance that my own business will remain untouched as well.”

Just how many people are using me as bait?

I look up, annoyed at the riddling villain. “Nigma, who the Hell is this guy?” 

“Oh! Where are my manners? I am Oswald Cobblepot, at your service. Or should I say, your untimely death.” The man does a dramatic bow and tips his hat. The Penguin.

“Et tu, Cobblepot? Do I need to spell it out? I’m not a suitable bargaining chip!”

A shuffled noise alerts me to the edge of the rink and a flash of green catches my eye.

“Really, boys? You can do better than this. Leave Callie alone.”

I smile gratefully at the familiar botanist. “Thanks, Ivy.”

Ouch. The sun’s beginning to burn. I can feel my reddening skin rubbing against the ropes I’m tied up in. At this point being shot might be a decent way out of this. No more Gotham, no more sunburn.

“Did anyone tell him?” Ivy drones in a bored tone as she leans against the stone wall.

Nigma chuckles. “I sent a riddle-” 

“Never mind,” Ivy cuts him off. “Do not need any elaboration.”

Penguin shuffles around impatiently. “I’m starting to agree with Ms. Prentiss. I don’t take Crane for the affectionate type-”

“What are you doing?” Another familiar voice asks from the shadows.

“Or perhaps I spoke too soon,” Penguin says. “It appears he figured out your riddle.”

I can’t see! Where is he-? Oh. He did come after all. Although I don’t doubt his motive is to watch the show of me being cooked. Dr. Crane strides into the arena. He’s wearing the same clothes except for one accessory: the Scarecrow mask. Is this a rumble or what?

Nigma cackles with glee and hops down from his pedestal. “Delightful! Now that you’re here, let us establish our terms. You stop gassing the bank tellers, and we don’t hurt Callie.”

“Callie?” Crane whips his head to where Ivy’s pointing at me and his face darkens. “What’s she doing here?”

“Just a little insurance that you’ll cooperate,” Penguin explains smugly.

Dr. Crane’s eyes don’t look away from me. “You’re hurting her.”

“We haven't cut a hair off of her-”

“It’s the sun. She’s burning.”

He noticed. How attentive. Whether or not he cares if I’m being burned is shielded by his plain tone. Who does start to show concern is Ivy.

“He’s right. Get on with it, Nigma. Don’t worry, Callie. I’ve got the best aloe for you.”

Nigma tilts his head, still watching Crane’s alertness towards me. Cobblepot, however, is growing impatient.

“I’ll do it myself,” he mutters. He waddles closer and points his umbrella straight at my head. “You’d better be right, Nigma. Close the deal, now. Or else I will take my associations elsewhere.”

Crane’s body stiffens. Behind his mask I see his vibrant eyes flash. He can’t be serious-

“How about a compromise?” The fear doctor suggests.

Penguin lowers his umbrella by a fraction. “I’m listening.”

“You can do your little bank scheme, but also steal an adrenaline compound for me. You get your petty cash and I get a new ingredient for my experiments.”

He’s actually going along with this? Nigma struts up wearing a devious smirk and holds out a hand. The two men shake and he leans in to whisper something to Crane. Can we please get this done? My back feels like it’s about to char. 

“Pleasure doing business, Ms. Prentiss. Perhaps next time it will be on more friendlier terms.”

Penguin tips his hat to me and disappears into the shadows. While Nigma and Crane continue their whispering Ivy comes over and sets down a white bottle.

“Aloe. Apply twice daily. This should clear that burn up right away. It was good to see you, Callie. Stay safe, stay in touch.”

She too walks off and I’m left to wait for the squabbling geeks to stop arguing about… whatever. I don’t care.

“Remember: I’m not a flower, but I bloom in the heart,

In many stories, I play a part.

I can make you cry, or make you smile,

Through hate or sadness I reconcile,” Nigma chants tauntingly.

What the Hell kind of Riddle is that?

“Now let her go!” Crane orders.

Nigma shrugs. “Very well. There’s no need to hold onto her anymore.” He pulls out a knife and slices the ropes behind my back. “Sorry again, Callie. See you later.”

“Try to use me as bait again, and you will regret it,” I hiss as the ropes rub against my skin.

The chair pulls away and I fall onto my hands and knees. The pavement is hot enough to cook an egg. I don’t even want to know how red my back is.

“You owe me.” A hand grabs my arm and I’m tugged up to stand.

“Ow! In case you forgot, I am here because of you." I sneer at Crane. "Somehow I’m a valuable bargaining chip. Care to explain why?”

Dr. Crane doesn’t answer. He finishes untying the ropes around my legs. When he’s finished I bent over to pick up Ivy’s aloe. Every inch I move causes my skin to yell at me.

“Is it safe?” Crane asks in a lazy voice.

“I trust Ivy. Plus my skin can’t get any worse now anyway.” I practically limp into the shade and lean against the cold concrete. “I was just held hostage in broad daylight. What do you expect?”

“I expect it hurts.”

No shit, genius!

“Yes. Yes it does. Now please get your gloating over with so I can be miserable in peace.”

A small dose is all it takes. I pour a small drop of the green goo onto my hand and smear it across my arm. Thank you, Ivy! It feels like liquid relief-!

“Here.” Crane takes the bottle and suddenly more aloe is being rubbed gently on my back. “This should help.”

Oh- God, he’s good at this. Of course he is. He studied anatomy the same as I. But why does he have to be so frustrating?

“You’re helping? Are you high?”

“Hardly. These actions are based on pity, Dr. Prentiss. You look like a cracker dipped in ketchup.”

Surprising. He still has a sense of humor. Probably because it’s directed at me. 

I fight the urge to moan and pull away before I let my trust slip. I pivot and walk through the alley towards the main street. Where do I go? What direction is-?

“Your apartment is that way, Dr. Prentiss.” Crane points north.

I pull my face into a tight smile. “Thank you,” I reply stiffly.

Continuing onward. And he’s still following me.

“Did you know that- Oh come on, take it off!” I yank Crane’s mask away and shove it into his hands. “We’ll get caught! Anyways, did you know that New York built the first electric chair in 1888 because they were seeking a more humane method of execution than hanging?” 

He takes a minute to adjust to the bright sunlight. “That seems rather dark and random for you.”

“I find it interesting. We still kill, but look for more humane methods. In my line of work I’ve seen many criminals design their methods of death. Including you.”

We get to the intersection across from my apartment. Good. A hot shower- Scratch that. A freezing cold shower for my skin and some fresh clothes. My poor black dress from last night is wrinkled and dusty. With a little luck it can be saved. Some hero. Dressed the part for damsel in distress like a pro. 

“Would you like me to escort you?”

Escort? God, he’s right. I am poisoning him with thoughts of chivalry. This does not sound like the Dr. Crane from five months ago. First he lets me live from a Nigma’s crazy scheme and now he’s offering to escort me.

My tone turns gentle. “No, thank you. I’ll be fine.”

Crane nods. “Take care of those burns. Good day, Dr. Prentiss.”

He walks straight past me towards the docks. Back to his lab. So that’s it, then? Him popping in and out of my life when it concerns him. I shouldn’t care… But then why does my heart drop the further he gets down the sidewalk? Maybe Nigma’s right. Maybe he does care. Why else would he have acted to preserve my life today? Or it’s to earn a favor from me. I ‘owe’ him. Well, favor or not I’m still going ahead with my plan.

I strike first tonight.

[poguelandiarp]

Hi, everyone! If you want a fun OBX rp to join--this is the group for you! We are planning a weekend event with a Halloween party. We also have a few canon characters left we would LOVE to see! We take place after season 2 and have a gossip blog that shakes things up for the residents. Join today by pressing this link -> click me! Canon: Cleo Anderson, Sofia, Kelce, Deputy Shoupe, Ward Cameron, Rose Cameron, Luke Maybank, Mike Carrera, Anna Carrera, and Big John. Some oc fcs our members would love to see are: Whitney Peak, Darren Barnet, Maitreyi Ramakrishnan, Jaren Lewison, Megan Suri, Christopher Britney, Lola Tung, Gavin Casalegno, Rain Spencer, Sean Kaufman, David Iacono, Minnie Millis, Jabari Banks, Michael Cimino, Miles Teller, Chris Wood, Glen Powell, Tom Holland, Austin Butler, Michael B. Jordan, Yara Shahidi

[ratsoh-writes]

do you think any of the skeles jobs are hiring?.... 🤔 I just realized I made my sona/oc have the same job that I currently have and honestly upgrading from that would be a goal. Lol maybe manifesting a better job for me irl

Rancher and peaches are always hiring farmhands, although it’s off season right now

If you can get a recommendation from one of the brothel prostitutes, sir might just hire you

Pepper is looking for a new nail tech for his salon

Willow and oak could always use a new cashier for the bakery

Same with gears and compass needing cashiers for the garden shop

Ciders family hires farmhands as well for the vineyard and waiters for the bar

Ozzy always needs another receptionist for his bank, or a teller

If you’re a Drake, you could join Barins guild as a runelayer, or a miner if you’re not as they also work in the mountains

Harpy can always use another vineyard worker and wine maker

[jacenotjason]

"Tuktuka and Blondie should be friends lmfao" wait that would actually be SO fun. Them just quietly sitting in the middle of the forest or stealing shit together. Enrichment for them /silly

"The idea of an oc hating Radford makes me giggle and i dont know why. hes so silly how can you hate him." That is exactly why I made her hate him! I thought it would be really funny

"hey she should meet op radford *i get shot in the head*" Okay actually like. Fun fact for that. I've actually thought up an OP Rachel and her whole thing is Radford dumped her and she NEVER got over it. She's always trying to get him to take her back and either doesn't realize or doesn't care that he's actually super awful. He's probably considered sacrificing her to the cult, in all honesty

However I feel like OG Rachel and OP Radford meeting is just that couple from Tom Cardy's Red Flags music video. They are somehow so awful they're great for each other

"I'm pretty sure you talked about Margo to me! She was the OC you talked about when I was developing Vito right? think so!!" That was actually Rachel! Margo doesn't get out much and works as a bank teller, not at the mall. Her meeting Vito would be fun tho now that you say that

"THESE ARE SO COOL!! I'd be happy to make you some refs or anything if you want!!" :D!!!!! I will keep you in mind!

GODDAMMIT wrong. oc. I SWEAR HER NAME WAS MARGO. AUGH

OP Radford would in fact try and sacrifice some clingy ex to the cult. Wouldn't even hesitate. AND YES THE RED FLAGS MUSIC VIDEO HEUGYH

WEEE i need to go to bed UHGUH

[mintytealfox]

Have some doodles~

With Dorothy looking nice for a fancy party that Gilbert was invited to and he dragged her with him~ Then Fool's Gold wiggin out about somethin

And then Dorothy and Gilbert in THAT AU 👀 but he is in his every day clothes and still comfortable while Dorothy is layered to the nines and still cold LOL

[crossover-enthusiast]

*gnaws on you* do you have like a masterpost of your OC's lore??? I am dying to learn more about Margo

Oooo okay SO I don't have a masterpost (I should tbh, I need to make one) BUT I do have a general Margo tag that has a bunch of stuff about her!

To do a quick and dirty (and sleepy) rundown:

She's 45ish and works at the bank as a bank teller

Has horrible anxiety and paranoia that only worsened with the cult

Haven't decided when exactly she was indoctrinated into the cult but for now I'm going to say somewhere between her mid twenties to early thirties. They preyed on her anxiety :[

Mostly does cult grunt work around town or in the manor. Pretty low on the ladder tbh

Once while out on cultly duties she was attacked by a vampire and drained of blood. The only reason she's still human is because of the amulet, but she still has some vampire traits: she gets sunburns easily and has slightly sharper canines (and with regular skin colors, her skin is still really pale)

She is the aunt of the female actor and Margo is so proud of her

Margo's parents always favored her older brother and Margo was Very Aware of this

Her and Ignacio are childhood friends! They grew apart as they got older but ironically reconnected due to the cult

She likes tea and gifted Ignacio a tea set for Christmas :>

I'm very indecisive on where her gray hairs are but for now I'm really liking some of her fringe being gray so it frames her face

Also in relation to the above, one of the hair strands near her hair tie is curled to reference the curly hair strand the female actor has on her forehead

She's a lesbian and a gay disaster <3

[drabbles-mc]

WIP Game

Rules: reveal the titles of the documents in your WIP folder and tag as many people as there are documents. Let others ask questions about the ones that interest them and post snippets or explain the contents as you see fit! (i never have enough people to tag to tackle my insane list of wips lmfao)

I got tagged by @bullet-prooflove! 💞 The way these games always drag me clean through the fuckin' mud because I'm always adding to my wips with no end in sight 😂 To keep this manageable, I'm just going to post the WIPs that I haven't uploaded anything of yet lmao

No Vacancy - Bucky Barnes x F!Reader, Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Brassknuckle - Edward Horniman x F!Reader

Hands All Over - Rick Flag x F!Reader

The Real Deal - Sydney Adamu & Mikey Berzatto & Richie Jerimovich

Back the Same - Elias Ryker x Kristin Ortega

Against All Odds - Juice Ortiz x OC Chris Teller

Your Mess - Nacho Varga x F!Reader

There and Back - Nestor Oceteva x Erin Thomas

Untitled - Marcus Brooks x OC

Bad Ideas - Canche x OC Lia Reyes

Honest with Me - Juice x OC

Beautiful Stranger - Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff

Already Met - Javier Peña x F!Reader

Off-Limits - Gilly Lopez x OC Tasha Losa-Harris

They Were Roommates - Angel Reyes x OC Luciana Rodriguez, Nestor Oceteva x OC Jazmin Werner

Rookie Mistakes - Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Getting Off Easy - EZ Reyes x Nestor Oceteva

Untitled - Bloodline & Outer Banks Crossover

For Everything - Happy Lowman x OC Natalie Rose Teller

Brick by Brick - Opie Winston x OC Audra Martin

Five Year Plan - Horacio Carrillo x F!Reader

Coming to Terms - Rafe Cameron x OC

Off the Ropes - Mayans Boxing AU

Pieces Into Place - EZ Reyes x OC Tala Clemente

Something New - Happy Lowman & OC Breanna Wilson

From the Start - Opie Winston x OC Chris Teller

Better Than That - Angel Reyes x F!Reader, Coco Cruz x F!Reader

Chaos at the Lakehouse - SOA & OCs

How We Got Here - Coco Cruz x OC Daniela Reyes

5 Times - Jax Teller & OC Diedra Lowman

the way i love all of these stories and desperately want them all to see the light of day eventually lmao. but feel free to fire away! i'm more than happy to talk about any and all of them 🥰

Tagging (no pressure as always): @darqchilddaydreamz @spaghettificationandpretzels @garbinge @ashlingiswriting @ravennaortiz @late-to-the-party-81 @proceduralpassion @artemiseamoon and anyone else who wants to join! 🥰

[digital-chance]

Helloo it's eve's weird question time: Okay this is a reaally dumb question but this is False Gods coded so I have to ask: what would your oc make an apology video about? We all have characters who have done some crimes

AH what a good question! This was really fun, thank you for asking!!

Theodore is my oc that gets in the most trouble, being a villain. They would make an apology video if they were forced to. They'd give a general semi-fake apology for their general villainy and genuinely apologize for harassing the bank tellers repeatedly. They would also apologize for yelling at the Starbucks cashier but somehow would forget that they're apologizing for kidnapping the (corrupt) mayor and wasting the (corrupt) police force's time. I feel like Theo would fit it into a video ranking the security of various government buildings or banks or something like that.

Video Title: rating security of banks i've broken into & apology video ig???? Transcript: Theodore: For sure, the Irish Bank would be A tier security. It took me ages to crack the vault security but the cameras were too easy to get past. [text notification] Theodore: .. Ah shit I forgot this was meant to be an apology video... That was my probation officer.

Rowan is the second one who gets in trouble, but in unconventional ways. Their apology video would be a shitty slideshow complete with cringy/old sound effects and stupid photos. They would end it with a meme compliation and would make sure to have their outro.

Video Title: ROWAN APOLOGIZES??? NOT CLICKBAIT [meme compilation #1739]

Lucian would apologize for wrecking various buildings while fighting villains/monsters. He would be confused but he'd do it willingly. Occasionally he would be startled by something off-screen or a person would accidentally step into frame and he would say something (obviously being prompted to say things). He would mean every word though and would keep it as concise as his PR team would let him.

Video Title: Lucian Apologizes for Wrecking the City | #apology #trending #superhero #news #hqposted

[winksasleeplesseye]

File #005 - Night Music

City of the Dead

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x OC

Word Count: 3.6k

Fandom: Resident Evil

Warnings: Financial abuse, verbal, slight domestic abuse

Summary: Amara has a slight bit of thinking on her past and what got her to become a cop, she questions Leon’s motives just the same as they make their way through the city.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

1995

Was it possible for a heart to drop through your asshole to your feet? Your stomach to lurch so violently that it’d come out your mouth alongside the vomit?

Amara does, quite frankly too well, and what had occurred since this morning is more than the straw that broke the camel’s back. 

Her mother constantly made excuses for her father, saying he’d lived a tough life and that with support, he could be helped. But, how could she say that knowing that he had stolen money from his own flesh and blood to support his vices? And this wasn’t the first time either, other times the amounts had been small, nothing Amara couldn’t handle but now, it was different.

Even for someone at her young age, knew better and wouldn’t be around to do that. How could she be around to support the very same person who had hurt her? 

Her small semblance of stability, her control had been rocked so easily. She never wanted to feel as frantic and shattered as she did that morning at the bank. 

The teller eyed her with so much sympathy, or was it pity? Her heart almost seemed like a frog ready to jump from her throat as she backed away from the counter, the floor beneath her swaying a tad as she had to make a dash to the car before anyone could even ask her if she was alright. 

She had never sped back so fast to the base, in the loaner car they always switched out at each new base.

She pulled up to the blue-clad house on a street practically hidden by the cover of trees. An aspect her mother told her the construction company did to give the houses a sense of “normalcy”. Amara didn’t exactly think it gave anything close to normal.

This had been the longest they’d stayed anywhere, thankfully in the United States this time. Monet had moved on only a year ago, college certainly gave her a great excuse to stay in one place. 

Amara loved some aspects of being out of the country but the US had way more things she was more familiar with. 

For one thing, now that they were in California, Amara felt that she could breathe.

Amara never really bothered to learn the actual name of the place they lived, too much of an attachment always made it harder when they inevitably left. But still, she couldn’t help the indelible yet brief mark she knows it’ll leave. 

The city outside the base is not too big, not too small, it’s just right, her Mom would comment. Like Goldilocks. The city sits beside the sea, its own soft sand beach that would rush against the shore. It used to be a tourist attraction before it became overrun with more military personnel. 

Amara would sometimes wish she could stay forever, just letting the sun beat down on her skin, instead of just savoring every moment here considering how fleeting it could be. 

She barely gave care to the car as she practically jumped out without fully making sure it was in park. Rushing past her mother, trying not to let her in on what she was doing. The last thing she needed was to make her mother match her frantic energy. She quietly tore through her parents’ room, she’d learned early where her father tried to hide things. 

When she was seven, while on base in Sydney, he’d make it a point to make a game out of hiding things for her and Monet to look for. It was fun then, hiding silly things like candy and toys, now she was more frantic, afraid her heart would pound out of her chest. 

Amara thanked the powers that be that in his old age, he’d become so predictable. Her money, every cent, is laid out in the bedside table drawer in a secret compartment. 

Last time, she hadn’t been so lucky. But that time wasn’t damn near all her savings. 

Savings she’d been working to fill since she was 15, every odd job, waitress gig, or even errands she ran for others around the bases had gotten her that much. 

“Thank goodness.” A sigh of relief pushes past her lips, a weight had temporarily been lifted as she counted it all. 

At that moment, her mind had been made up, she’d leave and never come back. 

At the same time, she had a ball of anxiety lodged in her sternum, how would she survive? Moving from place to place is all she had ever really known. No, she shakes her head at that, fighting against the voice in her head that instilled her fear of the unknowns. 

She tiptoed from the room, heading to hers. 

“This is crazy,” Amara quietly said to herself, as she looked around her room. Her haven for the past few months. It’s not like she isn’t weighing the pros and cons despite fending herself off from the voice in her head yet again about every wrong thing that could happen. 

What if this happened, what if that happened, what if you ruined your life with one impulse decision and ended up homeless or worse? Amara winces as if someone had slapped her at that thought. 

She threw just about everything she had into backpacks and suitcases, something she’d always been too familiar with. Amara had never quite gotten to a point where she could just unpack everything. Both literally and figuratively. 

—-

Amara wrestled with her decision, wrestling so long that it had now gotten dark outside. Maybe she needed to sleep it off, and have a clear head in the morning.

She went through the usual evening routine with her Mom, setting out the table since the latter so graciously made them all dinner but her Dad was nowhere in sight. She doesn’t exactly consider that an improvement–but it was better than him sitting in a darkened living room in front of the TV, blinds drawn against the beautiful California sunshine and a certain funk permeating the air. “Thanks again, Mom.”

“What, honey?” Her mom blinks and turns her full attention to Amara as she turns off the sink, smiling vaguely. “Could you say that again?” Amara wanted to slap herself for even attempting to talk to her at the same time as the running water, something that was, unfortunately, kind of broken. Something that her father continuously put off fixing, much like everything else. 

“I was just saying thanks for dinner.” 

“Ah, it’s the least I could do. Did you get everything figured out?” Her mother asks.

Amara furrowed her brow. “Huh? With what?” Was her mom already onto her? 

“With the bank this morning? I know you went out and came back, you seemed pretty tense.”

Amara waved it off, putting on her best nonchalant act. “Ah, was nothing crazy. Everything’s good.”  

“Good, good.” Her mother smiled, throwing her a mischievous look but something in her eyes made Amara feel like she didn’t completely buy it. “Now, do you think you can grab me some ingredients for a pound cake? I’d let you do it but you’d burn the house down.”

“Hey!” Amara gasped, a little offended. She wasn’t that bad a cook! So what if she burned mac and cheese once? One time isn’t enough to say she’s a bad cook. 

She does as she asks, grabbing the items and setting them out but her stomach rumbled just looking at the actual food they’d have for dinner. Her mother is a miracle worker with every ingredient and within 20 minutes, the mixture is already in the oven. 

“Let’s get started,” her mother lightly pushed her to the dining room table, “don’t want the food to get cold, do we?” 

Amara sat at the dinner table, watching her mother carefully as she served the food. Off in the distance, she heard a car door slam and could tell trouble was brewing. She couldn't help but now notice the way her mother's hands were shaking, a sign of the anxiety that had become all too familiar in their home.

Just as they were about to start eating, the front door slammed shut, and heavy, stumbling footsteps made their way toward the bedroom. Amara already knows what exactly he planned to do, come in for the money and head back out. But not this time. 

"Hey, what's going on?" Her father slurred, looking around the room with bleary eyes as he came in unceremoniously. If he was angry, Amara couldn't exactly tell but that doesn’t stop her from being on edge. 

Amara didn't answer, but her mother spoke up. "It's dinner time, dear. Why don't you come to join us?"

"I don't feel like eating," her father said, but he still sat down at the table regardless and her mother prepared him a plate anyways. Couldn’t he do that himself? Her eyes focused on the food on her plate as she quietly ate but she could practically feel her father’s eyes searing into the top of her head. It was clear that the night was going to take a turn for the worse.

The tension in the room is palpable. The scent of alcohol reeked throughout the room, there was no denying where the scent was emanating from either. Amara glanced at her mother, who looked like she was anywhere but there. Clearly, she wasn’t going to address the elephant in the room, more likely for her own sanity. 

She just wanted to get through dinner without any incidents.

But it wasn't meant to be. Cutting through the offensively loud silence, Amara's father suddenly turned to her and said, "You think you can just take whatever you want, huh? That money was mine!"

The nerve of him! His money? 

Amara’s pulse pounded in her ears like a bass drum, drowning out everything else around her. She felt her breathing quicken and her hands begin to shake as her blood boiled with rage, immediately standing up from the table. "It was my money, Dad! I earned it!"

Her mother spoke up, "Oh, stop it, both of you. Can't we have one nice dinner without all this fighting?"

Amara shot her mother a withering look. "You always defend him, even when he's clearly in the wrong. For fuck sake, he stole from his own daughter! What are you gonna defend him for next? Murder?” 

That's when her father snapped. He grabbed Amara by the arm and shoved her into the wall. "Don't you ever talk to your mother like that again," he snarled.

Amara had had enough. “Fuck you,” She pushed him out of her way, no longer afraid of him as she had grown to be. As she returned to the living room with her packed bags in tow, her father's rage boiled over.

"You little brat," he spat, lunging towards her. "I'll teach you some respect."

Amara backed away, preparing to grab something to defend herself if necessary. Her mother tried to intervene, but her father continued to yell and curse, his anger escalating by the second. When he finally threatened them both, Amara knew that she had to take action.

She ran for the phone, her heart racing. "I'm calling the police," she said, her voice shaking with anger.

Her father laughed. "Go ahead, call them. They won't do anything."

But Amara was determined. She grabbed the phone and dialed 911, explaining the situation to the operator. As she spoke, she could hear her father's angry words in the background, and her mother's feeble attempts to calm him down.

When the police arrived, her mother defended her father, telling the officers that he had just had too much to drink and that everything was fine. But Amara knew better. She had seen this all before with things on TV, and she knew that it was only a matter of time before her father's small act of anger turned into more violence. 

This was the first time it had ever escalated to that level, a part of her, while putting on a brave face, had never been as shocked as she was at his actions. Over money that wasn’t his, no less. 

The officers handled the whole situation and cared more than she really ever thought they would. Something about it made her not feel so helpless in everything, she wanted to do that for others somehow. 

As the police left, Amara made a final, final decision. She would leave this toxic environment and never look back. It was time for her to make her own way in the world, and she was determined to do it on her own terms.

—-

September 30, 1998.

From that point on, Amara could never really put much stock into anyone. That whole situation really wasn't about the money but really the principle of it all. Losing family and friends in many different ways had made her so afraid of actually caring for others. 

Amara always likened it to shedding your skin and baring your heart, opening someone up to every vulnerability, every vein, every pulse that pumped through it. And every single thing that had occurred had been like someone had taken that very same beating heart and thrown it to the cold, hard floor. 

But then, she ended up here right out of the academy. Raccoon City. She got this job and met people who showed that maybe it wasn’t so bad to bare your heart and rely on others. That people could be tight-knit, an actual family without the mess, and have your back.

Showed her that she could rise above her circumstances and be better. 

And now, even though most were gone, she still tried to be better and was better for having known them. 

She pondered on these things briefly in the moments of silence between the three of them. She straggled behind Leon and Ada, looking at the city streets and what had become of them in such a short amount of time.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the window of a restaurant she had been to before, and usually, she’s never one to be too hard on herself, but Jesus, she’d seen better days. 

Her hair stuck to her skin, no thanks to the endless rain, and would more than likely be unruly when it dried. But on the bright side, it did offer some cleansing of the grime she’d accumulated, though she was sure that her leather jacket, turtleneck, and jeans could never be worn again after tonight. They’d probably be soaked through forever now.

“Road’s out, we’ll have to cut through that shop.” Ada’s voice cuts through her thoughts. The very sinkhole that Ben had mentioned lay before them. 

Leon stood at its very edge, looking down at the scaffolding and things of that nature. Amara joins him, no real or particularly interesting thoughts on what’s down in it but she can’t help but say what comes to her mind first, “Big ass hole.” 

He starts laughing, probably at the absurdity.  “Anything you could’ve said and that’s the best you’ve got?” 

“I mean…my brain is more than a little fried right now, so yes.” Amara starts to laugh with him. She doesn’t miss Ada’s shake of her head as she worked on the lockpicking but she really didn’t care, she needed to laugh at something to keep from going insane. 

“Fair enough.”

“So, I guess it’s my turn to ask you something, what really got you into wanting to become a cop?” 

“You sure you wanna know?” 

“No, I don’t give a shi-yes, I want to know, Leon!” She lightly jabs him in the shoulder. 

Leon took a deep breath before answering. “Ever heard of the Garcetti family?” 

“In passing, go on.” 

“Well, I’m not sure of all of the details since I was just a kid, but I only assume my parents must’ve gotten in bad with the family…long story short, that night I became an orphan.” Leon gives her a strained smile, almost like he didn’t just tell her the most heart-wrenching thing you could tell anyone. 

Her eyes widened in surprise just thinking about it. “Shit, Leon.” 

Leon doesn’t exactly seem to let on at first glance that he’d been through something of that magnitude but Amara is someone who always kind of thinks–thought people lived one story, but after everything, she’s become wise enough to realize people are more than they appear to be.

Leon shrugged. “It’s nothing…—don’t give me that look-“ 

“I’m sorry, Leon. That just really sucks.”

“Yeah well, you asked.” Leon points out. That is a fair point on his end. “If it hadn’t been for the officer that night who protected me, I wouldn’t be standing here today. He’s part of the reason why I felt drawn to it all. It was a long time ago, but I always carry that with me.” 

Amara nodded, understanding. “I get that, somewhat. My dad was in the military, we moved around a lot. I didn’t exactly have the most stable home or many friends growing up. So when I was 18, I joined the academy to get away from it all.”

She went on. “It wasn’t easy, but it was a way for me to have some control over my life and certainly drove me to want to help others in a way that I hadn’t been afforded. That’s part of why I ended up with S.T.A.R.S.” 

Amara smiled softly, thinking of the team once more, even though it was for a short time, they were the first people in a long time that made her feel like she belonged somewhere. 

There was a comfortable silence between them until Ada called them over, finally managing to get the door opened. 

It’d been a while since she’d been to Kendo’s Gun Shop, it wasn’t exactly everyday that she needed a new supply of guns, or ammo, she had plenty at the station at one time or another. 

She and the whole team knew him well enough, she had even gotten the chance to meet his family at one point this past spring. Amara could only hope they’d made it out. 

The shop is completely ransacked, shelves tipped over and shards of glass from the display cases strewn about the floor. If someone were to ask what exactly chaos looked like, this was definitely one of the images Amara would conjure up. 

“Ugh, what a mess,” Ada comments, searching the shelves for extra ammunition. 

In the name of self-preservation, Amara does the same, placing whatever she could into her hip pouch. Moving deeper into the store, suddenly a shotgun cocked and Amara turned to find that Leon is held at gunpoint. 

“Don’t move,” Kendo threatens, his face contorted in fear as Amara quietly peered around the corner of the shelf. She didn’t want to get too jumpy, especially in what had quickly escalated to a tense situation.  

“I’m just passing through, I’m gonna ask you to lower that weapon,” Leon speaks calmly, looking forward, probably just as mindful not to set Kendo off. 

“Like hell you are, you’re gonna turn around and go right back out the way you came in.” 

Amara crouches low, tiptoeing over shards of glass nearing the two of them. If anyone could talk him down, she hopes it’s her. 

"Kendo, it's me," Amara calls out, hoping to calm the panicked man. "We don’t want any trouble."

In the momentary second that Kendo turns his attention to her voice, Leon is quick to turn on him, aiming his gun at him. Amara and Ada both emerge from the shadows, guns already aimed and ready. Kendo looked frayed and exhausted, with bloodshot eyes and a crazed expression. Amara noticed the shotgun was shaking in his hands as he tried to keep it trained on Leon.

Amara can see that Kendo's daughter Emma is standing nearby, her eyes sunken and her skin paler than usual. She knows that Emma is turning, yet Kendo still protected her despite the futility of it. 

"Kendo, lower it," Amara says calmly, taking slow steps forward. "Just like the man said, we’re just passing through.” 

Kendo hesitates for a moment, his finger still on the trigger of the shotgun. Amara sees the fear in his eyes, the fear that's driving him to protect his daughter at all costs.

"Please, Kendo," Amara continues, keeping her voice steady. "We're not the enemy here.”

Kendo hesitates for a moment, his eyes darting between the three of them. Slowly, he lowers his gun, allowing Amara to approach him. Amara can see the relief on Leon's face as he lowers his own gun.

As they talk with Kendo, Amara can't help but feel a sense of sadness and desperation. They're all just trying to survive, to hold on to some semblance of normalcy in a world gone mad. And yet, the odds seem to be against them. It’s at this point that Amara lets it sink in just how many people had been impacted by this, innocent people. 

By the conversation’s end, Amara’s sure none of them feel any better about everything thus far. 

“You know,... it’s one thing to keep the truth from us, but why him?” Leon turns on Ada, a determination in his voice. 

A lone gunshot sounds off from behind the door, and Amara’s heart drops. Please, don’t let there be another shot. 

“I want to stop this. Protecting people like them? That’s why I joined the force.”

Ada turns squarely to Leon. “My mission is to stop Umbrella’s whole operation, we may not make it out.” 

Leon’s response proves to Amara that he was destined for this. “Whatever it takes to save this city, count us in.” 

[manyfandomocs]

Speak Now [Taylor Swift]

Okay this has been 75% completed in my inbox long enough so I'm not doing the vault tracks as initially planned but! Just lmk if you do wanna see the vaults

also I am apparently so attached to assigning Enchanted to ships I should just do an edit series for couples. And Innocent was so hard to assign

Mine ; Thomas Mayfair (with Brady Mariano @randomestfandoms-ocs ), Ashton Daniels (with Blaine Anderson), Emmeline Fitzherbert (with Mal), Cassidy Fuchs (with Grace Chasity)

Sparks Fly ; Ruby Fitzherbert (with Evie), Natalia Finch (with Obie Bergmann)

Back To December ; Ashton Daniels (with Sam Evans), Sebastian Van Wyck (with Henry, pre-RWRB), Katherine Keller (young with FP Jones)

Speak Now ; Tiffany Holloway (with Max Jägerman), Jasmine Teller (with Jess Mariano), Robin Davidson (with Betsy McDonough), Theodosia Fortescue (with Colin Bridgerton), Sampson Lockhart (with Arabella Kingsley)

Dear John ; Belladonna Callow (with Malachi), Gabriel Legume (with the unnamed ex), Genevieve Sterling (with Hiram Lodge)

Mean ; Felicity Moore, Cassidy Fuchs, CJ Kelly

The Story Of Us ; Genevieve Sterling (with Hiram Lodge), Steve Schuester (with Jesse St James), Serafina Hollander (with Tristan Dugray), Solana Reed (with Val), Carrie Ryan (with Noah Puckerman)

Never Grow Up ; Chloe Brown (with Eloise Sol @randomestfandoms-ocs ), Lottie Tyler (with Rose Tyler), Silas Green (with Hannah Foster)

Enchanted ; Leticia Beaumont (with Colin Bridgerton), Arabella Kingsley (with Sampson Lockhart), Calliope Angelos (with Nora Holleran), Kendall Frost (with Beatrice Mountchristen-Windsor), Cassie Rose (with Annabeth Chase), Vincent James (with Jenny Banks), Tamora Snow (with Lucy Gray Baird), Charles Pond (with Clara Oswald), Odelia Roth (with David Nolan & Odessa Pavlova)

Better Than Revenge ; Gabriel Legume (with Ben, Audrey's POV), Delilah Curdle (@ Betty Cooper), Catalina Cabrera (with Dan Humphrey, Serena's POV), Carrie Ryan (honestly this is just Rachel @ Carrie for all of their shared boyfriends)

Innocent ; Chloe Brown, Ginevra Gothel

Haunted ; Carrie Ryan (with Noah Puckerman), Steve Schuester (with Jesse St James), Wrenley Daring (with Jay), Gabriel Legume (with Harry Hook), Victor Chase (with Billy Loomis), Lorelai Cooper (with Chuck Clayton)

Last Kiss ; Steve Schuester (with Jesse St James), Carrie Ryan (with Sam Evans), Ashton Daniels (with Sam Evans), Thomas Mayfair (with Lane Kim), Tiffany Holloway (with Max Jägerman in most timelines), Catalina Cabrera (with Nate Archibald)

Long Live ; Sage Rowe, Nathan Price, Ashton Daniels, Carrie Ryan, Silas Green, Cassidy Fuchs, Ivy Perkins, Abigail James, Felicity Moore, Zeke Beiste

Ours ; Arabella Kingsley (with Sampson Lockhart), Karina Jimenez (with Brittany Pierce), Felix Dosier (with Finn Hudson), Ashton Daniels (with Blaine Anderson), Gabriel Legume (with Ben), Theo Gleason (with Jess Mariano)

Superman ; Carrie Ryan (with Jesse St James), Silas Green (with Lex Foster), Sebastian Van Wyck (with Henry Hanover-Stuart-Fox, pre RWRB), Katherine Keller (with FP Jones), Madeline Stevens (with Frank Delfino)

Send me an album and, if I know the artist, I will try to associate to every song an oc/ship/crossover

[s1x-foot-deep]

postal oc named guy who's just some Guy & he thinks he just thinks dude is cool but actually has a very bisexy crush on him. also works as like a bank teller or accountant or mailman. smthn like tat.,....... Anyways goonight