#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 👀 )

[torchiiko]

if i want randtorch route to be Fun i have to have more interactables. more things to do without risking writing more existing characters poorly. i have to make more dialtown ocs

[feliville]

I'm so obsessed with your ocs especially Zayde.

If you dont mind, could I have a little lore breakdown on them (so far since as far as I've gathered it isn't done/finished fully)!

Love your art style SO much its so gorgeous

(Zayd*)

Thank you so so much for liking them : -D !! I love my OCs dearly ;v;, I really should make them pages in toyhouse.. but for now here's the short descriptions I wrote them for their artfight profiles:

Zayd García: The protagonist (of the future comic ahbcjdn)

Zayd is a socially awkward depressed alcoholic, he constantly looks bored or uncomfortable, his monotone voice and blunt demeanor tend to drive people away. Despite his struggles forming relationships with people, he's desperate to find someone he can call a friend. He's a retail worker.

Santiago Mendoza: The love interest.

Santiago exudes confidence and charisma, he's outgoing and loves a good party. He's good at making fun conversations, which is helpful for him in his day job as a bartender. He dabbles in drag queen culture for fun, particularly making, styling and taking care of the wigs. Even though he's not a performer himself, he gets in full drag for fun, specially for events at gay bars.

Paulina Cruz: The best friend/confidant.

Paulina gives off the appearance stoic and well-put-together woman, but in her mind, she's rehearsing her memorized script, determining when and how to say something, when to move or emote, all of which leaves her exhausted at the end of the day. In reality, shes curious and chatty, she can ramble on for a while about things that interest her, like crocheting. She works as a bank teller.

Azalea Flores: Secondary character. (Santiago's best friend+roomate, Paulina's girlfriend)

Azalea is cheerful, easily excitable and amiable, though she struggles to make new friends, she's very loyal to the ones she does have. She works as a hair stylist.

Candela Romero: Secondary character. (Paulina's girlfriend)

Candela is abrasive and short-tempered, she's been hardened by her travel experiences and bad working conditions, so she struggles to let her guard down and allow people into her life. She's passionate and intense about things or people she cares about, like ceramics or cars. She's a construction worker.

[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

[janicekao]

Relief

Pairing: Noah Centineo x Black oc Summary: Savannah Carter is a young woman who dates casually and refuses to be tied down to a man. She struggles to keep up with this defiance when her favorite boy-friend, Noah Centineo, visits her on the search of finding some relief. Warnings: #ManEater #WomenInMaleFields #FriendsWithBenefits #CasualDating #HardlyAnyPlot #JustSmut #RoughS3x #D0m&F3mSub #FanFiction #Smut #Fluff #Br33dingKink #Romance #IDK etc. 2540 words Wattpad link Enjoy my babies<3 ---------------------------

Up early again from constant restless nights, Savannah Carter has already hit the gym and the laundry mat before the break of dawn. She unlocks the door to her apartment as she juggles her gym bag and a weighty clothes basket on her hip as she enters inside. Exhausted, however excited to see if she can catch up on rest now that her chores are done, she becomes startled by a near-naked man in her apartment.

"Christ!" Her grip falters and her basket of clothes comes tumbling to the ground. "What are you doing in my house?!"

Her long time friend Noah Centineo welcomes her home with a simple, "sup", as he continues to use her toothbrush while freshening up this morning at her place. Savannah gags, glad to have extra brushes stored underneath her sink.

His round brown-eyes were created by God himself for the young man to continuously get his way in life... his look of innocence makes it impossible for her to stay mad for long. She sighs. "Noah, come on man, what the hell?"

"You still keep the spare-key underneath your doormat Savannah, not exactly the smartest idea." She rolls her eyes at his remark, ever since he took up a job with the government he's been a pompous asshole. Every word out of his mouth is cop-talk like he's Officer-Fucking-Superhero. "Okay, Mr. CIA." She squints in sarcasm, soon becoming curious about his insane amount of cuts and bruises on his body. "You look like shit, what are these people doing to you?"

...

Noah quickly thinks back on his week spent in hell while out of country on a mission. He shrugs, sparing her the details. "I'm the rookie."

"Keep telling yourself that, and they'll have you winding up dead." Savannah drops her gym bag, tiding up her fresh laundry as she puts them away. "What did you come here for?"

Noah snatches a fresh tower from her. "Uhh a shower, and shave..."

Annoyed with her favorite towel now smelling of aftershave, she rolls her eyes. "Don't they have like—locker rooms or something for the officers at your job?"

He gulps... reminiscing this time on the constant hazing he's been getting from other CIA officers that have been in duty far longer than him.

The other agents give him hell, he doesn't even get the chance to relax and have time for his own personal hygiene in their locker room.

"Suddenly I can't come around here, Savv?" Instead of admitting to the immature bullying happening to him at his new job, Noah decides to create an argument with the woman he loves instead. "Don't you remember who the hell painted this entire apartment for you? Before the CIA, when I was just a fucking bank teller, every day during my lunch break I was here making this shit-hole the place of your dreams!"

Savannah reminisces on the fun they used to have while painting this place together. She recalls purposely getting paint on his dress-attire just so he could call out the rest of the day and spend the evening here, in her arms. "Yes, I remember, Noah."

"Do you?" He scoffs. "Because it was also around the time that you had me thinking that we were growing into something special... and you seem to like to forget about that one a lot too."

"Noah, baby—"

"Don't." So enamored with her, his heart and another organ jump at the sound of her sweet nothings. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" She studies him, confused by the affect that she has on him.

"Taunt me with your sweet pet names when you know!—" Noah's voice raises before calming himself down. "You know how much I care about you."

"Honey—" She does it again.

"Savannah, what did I just say?" Noah presses forward, shadowing her with his height and large frame as she cranes her neck up to meet his serious gaze.

"I'm sorry, you're right." She gulps. "I shouldn't play with your feelings, it's just— you know how I get about jumping into things, right? I'm just not that type of girl you can tie down... but hey look, I'm really glad we are still friends though. So now that you've used up all my hot water, ruined my toothbrush, and towel... Are you hungry? What else can I do for you?"

"Need some relief..." He states plainly.

Savannah lifts a curious brow, "relief?"

"Christ, gonna make me beg?" His husky tone sends a chill down her spine. "You've been on my mind all week, even when I was getting the shit kicked out of me by the Mexican cartel. I want some— ya know."

Although Savannah ended the possibility of a relationship between the two, the young lady is the biggest player of all time, getting her kicks in with as many partners as she pleases because being tied down has never been part of her agenda.

Maybe just friends, but friends with benefits to say the least.

She sighs. "You're not fucking me."

"Savv, baby please." Over six-feet yet he still pleads like a toddler having a tantrum.

She yawns. "Look, I don't really sleep well anymore! I'm just too tired."

Knowing that she isn't sleeping well because of the lack of safety and security she has from not having a man in the house, Noah decides to keep this comment to himself, continuing with his needy beg. "Then I'll do all the work! Please baby, fuck— I'll make you feel so fucking good."

His hands feel incredible on her flesh as they familiarize themselves with every angle and curve of her body. Her clothes begin to melt off with Noah's help and he awaits her answer.

...

"No."

Noah can hardly hear her decline from his blocked focus being that now he's completely hypnotized by her mouthwatering nude presence. He gulps. "Fine, what can I do then?"

She tilts her head, amused by the urgency in his tone to get a piece of her. "I mean..." She shrugs. "You can eat my puss—"

"Deal." His response doesn't even take a moment to come, not even a second thought.

As Savannah nods, Noah doesn't hesitate to lift her in his strong arms. He tosses her onto her bed and she immediately stretches against her comfortable sheets. He wakes her with a surprising tongue kiss that sets her body ablaze. "Not yet." He whispers against her lips, pausing their kiss. "After this, I promise you'll have the best sleep you've ever had."

His large body presses her back against the mattress and he begins to slither his way down her flesh, spoiling her with gentle kisses along the way. His brown eyes never leave hers as Savannah watches Noah inhale her mound of breast into his mouth gently sucking and leaving a nip at her hardened nipple as he pulls back. The slight sting forces a gasp from her lips and an arch in her back as Noah delivers the same treatment across both of her full tits.

His fingers snake down her belly and quickly reach between her thighs, finding her womanhood as he palms her sex and teases her until her nectar begins to form a sheen across his palm. The sensation has Savannah rocking her hips for more of the satisfying friction, but Noah's wide hand pushes below her belly-button and forces her to stop to endure the pleasure. She begins to whine needlessly wanting badly to chase after a cum that he refuses to give her until he's gotten his fill of her taste. "Slow down."

Finally mouth-level with her cunt, a simple tongue swipe through her folds and ending at her clit sends her reeling. Savannah bites her lip, moaning a sweet squeal as she grips the sheets underneath her. The tongue swipe and breath fanning over her hot mound has her insanely stirred and needy, causing Noah to chuckle at the way her body jerks each time he plants a kiss on her sweet little pussy. Determined to keep her still, without any thoughts of running, Noah pulls her hips down further to him and tosses her legs over his shoulders. With his meal glistening and spread widely between two brown thick thighs, his lips glisten as he begins to salivate. He lowers his mouth into her heat, groaning like a man starved. Her pheromones make him dizzy with lust and her cries each time he suckles on her sensitive flesh adds to his momentum. The cock resting in his gray boxers begins to plague him with the need of the sweet cunt he feeds on, he becomes so helpless to the sensation of his solid erection that the only way to gain relief is to lower his boxers and grind himself against the mattress.

Savannah's eyes widen as she watches the lewd attack happening between her legs. Far past needy for her sex, she watches her lover hump the bed to find his own relief, yet still he caters to her every inch of skin by eating her flesh off of the bone. Regardless of being tired and trying to have the upper hand by withholding sex from him— Noah's explicit squelches and moans has her dazed as fire pools low in her abdomen. If she is to cum for him, she wouldn't want to anywhere but right on his cock. "Maybe just a little..." she gulps, now insisting on his penetration.

"The tip?" His voice is honeyed in excitement.

She nods. Noah could use this moment to taunt her. Make her beg for his cock since she was too stingy with this pussy earlier. But being so dizzy for the feel of her flesh sheathed around his length, he couldn't tease her for another minute if he wanted to. Having a taste for backshots, Noah slides behind her, becoming the big spoon. Savannah immediately arches against him and Noah lifts her thigh in his dimpling grasp as he slides right in."Sss-ahh." He hisses, eyes half-lidded and enthralled by the snug fit of her pussy.

His slow thrusts begin and Savannah's jaw laxes from the sensation of his wide cockhead knocking away at her gspot. "You feel that baby?" His words are a mock as his hands creep across her body and cup handfuls of her breasts.

Far past the tip, Savannah begins to feel his girthy inches dig into her. "Oh fuck."

"I know baby, I know." Noah coos, reaching above her cunt as he holds her and feels the tummy-bulge of each impale he gives her.

Savannah silences her own shattered breaths and rasps with a pillow as her walls convulse around him. Her orgasm has her dissolving into pleasure and Noah steals the angelic noises from her by forcing her to turn and meet his kiss. She has out her sounds of pleasure on the bed of his tongue instead of wasting them in a cheap pillow. "Mmm-ah! More, just— just keep going."

While still tight as a vice and fluttering against him, Noah's thrusts become sporadic as he reaches for his own ecstasy. His fingers leave bruising indents from the grasp on her hips as he fucks Savannah with pure greed. Her thick ass continues to land on his steel-like thighs creating the sounds of skin loudly slapping against each other. His breathing is ragged and uneven, heating her ear and down Savannah's neck. "You drive me fucking insane." His need to lay claim on her aches him like nothing before. Dying to trap and tame her into being a little wife so he can spill his cum in this pussy for the rest of his life. "Stay just like that princesss, oh fuck Savannah—goddamn."

With his cock twitching and his muscles veined and tightened, he knows it's a dangerous game to continue pumping his cock in her before he lands his blow right against her cervix. It kills him to pullout, but he does anyway, landing his ropes of cum across her pussy lips and the mess of her cream already between her thighs.

Noah falls onto his back, both sex-dazed and simple minded as the apartment fills with the sound of their heavy panting. "Shit." Noah gulps. "I thought you were tired?"

"Well..." Savannah chuckles, finding a way to wrap around his neck. "I thought so too."

Together they share a friendly laugh and Noah pulls her in for sweet kisses full of passion, trying his best to make her see exactly how good they are together. Although stubborn, Savannah sees it too, but instead she ignores the simple fact that they are in love as she closes her eyes and rests on his chest.

A phone call interrupts them, clearly someone important calling being that Savannah pushes off Noah at his chest.

She picks up. "Yeah babe, you're in town? Tonight?Okay I'll see you then."

Although she never got the rest that she had been hoping for this morning, Savannah's next rich beau is on the way to pick her up for a night out on the town. She sighs. "You've gotta get the fuck out Noah."

Already used to Savannah's behavior, it doesn't even hurt him anymore. He rolls his eyes as he finds his missing boxers. "I know, I know, onto the next." He pauses, curious about Savannah's now frantic behavior when most of her companions know that she dates openly... "But tell me, what's got you so worried? Is this guy the one you actually are going to take seriously or something?"

"No, are you dense?" She cleans Noah's still warm cum from between her thighs. "This guy can be hard to impress, he's hardly ever in town but when he is, he treats me to the best dates. Noah! You're just messing up my roster!"

"Your roster right." He laughs sarcastically. "So if I asked you to marry me—"

She starts the shower, pausing now that she's been alarmed by the words coming out of his mouth. Savannah watches him with gorgeously wide eyes... Could he have meant that? Does Noah really want to marry her?

With so many thoughts spoiling her mind, her heart actually aches with the thought of Noah, her biggest crush out of all of her lovers, wanting her in a way far different from the casual sex she is used to...

Savannah gulps, even beginning to stutter. "I—I'd say no.

Her long pause tells him everything that he needed to know. He begins to grin. "I don't think you would, I don't think you'd say no at all."

He continues."And say you do... Then I'll just keep asking until the day you say yes."

"And if I never?" She pushes his limits, always so curious to see how far someone will go for her love.

"There's always tomorrow." His response is something a woman like Savannah could only dream of... a response that guarantees that he'd wait for her no matter how long it takes and no matter how stubborn she can be.

Before leaving, Noah places a hand to her lower back and pulls her near— drawing Savannah up on her tippy-toes to meet his kiss. Their last kiss shared together is enough to make the entire building rock, full of stars and inexpressible tension. "I love your little mean ass, you know that right?" He chuckles. "See you on the weekend?"

Savannah nods, lightly gulping and stunned to realize that she is indeed head over heels for a man that she promised herself she wouldn't be. "Right... The weekend."

As Noah takes his leave and Savannah heads off to her shower, another phone call from her next lover rings her phone and Noah pauses as he becomes familiar with the name on the caller ID... He immediately recognizes it from hours of studying never solved cases at his job... Todd J. Parrish.Although Savannah's date for tonight, he's also a money-launderer for Russia who has been wanted by the CIA for the last ten months...

It seems that 'the weekend' Noah promised to see Savannah again will be coming sooner than she could ever expect— being that the next time she sees Noah, it will be when he and the rest of the CIA burst in on her dinner tonight to arrest her date.

[cherrycollie]

first art credit | second art credit

🐶 the second and last of my MHA ocs is nayu fuyuzume (no pro hero name because she's a civilian) 🐶

some additional info under the cut!

her tag | ship tag | toyhouse profile

🟫 her quirk is 'Dog', giving her the appearance of a tricolor rough coated collie her strongest and most sensitive sense is her hearing, so occasionally she needs to wear custom-made earplugs for her comfort, and she also has an aversion to loud sudden noises

🟫 this is a newer oc, so things aren't quite as cemented in compared to my other MHA gal, but so far i'm liking the idea of her working an administrative position at a pro hero agency (most likely an unnamed character who will be filled by another MHA-version random OC of mine lmao) another alternative is working as a bank teller or something similar!

🟫 nayu's friends with my other MHA oc, aina, as well!!

🟫 some of her personality inspo comes from fly in the movie 'babe' :)

🟫 i pair them with ryou inui/hound dog! unfortunately, i still don't have too many details picked out such as their first meeting, etc. 😭

🟫they do eventually marry though, and both of them easily have the hairiest house in the neighborhood especially when fur-shedding time rolls around lmao 💀

🟫 (and i also like to imagine they eventually adopt a dog together further down the line 😌)

🟫 height comparisons! nayu is 6' 2" :)

[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

[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

[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

[feliville]

What are the jobs your ocs of your comic idea miedo a la monotonia?

Zayd is a retail worker, Azalea is a hairstylist, Santiago is a bartender and a hairstylist (but I'm not sure if I'll keep it that way), Candela is a construction worker and Paulina is a bank teller : -] !!

[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.

[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! 🥰

[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

[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