#black resident evil oc

[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.

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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.” 

[larvamars]

«it's a date, then?»

[freyanistics]

I don’t think I ever shared this but here’s Natasha and Alcina kissing 🤭🤭 okay bye

Art by Kingstooth!

[lynxsakura]

Taking Commissions!!

all payment is in USD - paypal, venmo, zelle

if you want something that isn’t listed, like an icon, DM me and we can work something out!

tagging the fandoms my examples and faves to draw for ✨

[iluffyouxo]

ρℓυм αηԃ ѕυցαя || ℓєση ѕ. кєηηєԃу

Resident Evil 4 — leon s. kennedy x black, female oc

There was something in his boyish look as he stared into space, a hand stuck in between the tresses of his ash blonde hair.

Next to him, on the table, sat a half-empty glass of Hennessy and, in front of him, the tv displayed a show Sigrid had forgotten the name of.

Not that it really mattered.

She could tell he wasn’t paying attention to the background laughter and characters’ smiles shown on screen.

Rather he was glancing behind it at the window which faced a high view of the city line that met the downcast of the evening sky.

Leon had returned from his trip to Spain quicker than Sigrid had anticipated.

It had been a rather dull, grey afternoon spent cleaning indoors—though, in that late hour, the winds began to moan and the rain crashed against the window panes—when Sigrid opened the door to a drenched and noticeably jaded Leon Kennedy. “Oh, Leon…”

It was her usual greeting upon his typical unannounced arrivals.

Though, she never knew the context of his trips, she knew that they were important and never questioned why or how he was leaving for some no-name town in another country in the earliest hours of the morning—or be it the middle of the night.

The two weren’t dating, the two weren’t lovers, they were only roommates that had survived the same tragedy. Roommates that held the same trauma. It was best that they didn’t fall in love.

(Even if Leon had already broken that unspoken rule).

She didn’t really have a right to know. He could walk right out of her life, and it wouldn’t really matter. They weren’t even best friends—that title easily belonged to Chris and Claire.

However, that didn’t stop Sigrid from getting to know him better than the back of her right hand.

Leon had a huge sweet tooth, and the one weirdest combination that never failed to cheer him up was her mom’s sugarplum cake.

And she was currently plating a slice on one of her more aesthetically designed plates. “Here, Leon,” Sigrid hands him the plate, “I made you mom’s cake.”

He glances down at the plate in his hands before placing it on the table in front of him and giving her a quick nod in gratitude…or acknowledgement.

Sigrid sighs, planting a quick kiss atop his head, “I’m gonna be gone for a few days to visit my aunt. You’ll be okay, right?”

Sigrid knew he wouldn’t. After the five years of being roommates with each other, it took only a few months for her to gauge the fact that Leon had an abandonment issue—a severe one at that.

In the recent years there have been a few times that Leon knocked on her bedroom door (most likely after awakening from a nightmare) at the hopes that she was still there. That she hadn’t left him behind. And he’d sleep on her floor without a word of granting explanation in the morning.

Leon looks up at her, pale blue eyes glossed over, and his lips parted in an attempt to speak. “I…” What exactly was he going to say? No? He couldn’t keep Sigrid from seeing her family. That’d be selfish.

(Even if his second mind told him to say no. Even if he wanted so badly to tell her to stay).

“Ummm…yeah, I’ll be fine,” his voice cracked. “I’m no Boy Scout in need of babysitting.” The dim-witted joke catches Sigrid off guard and she huffs out a laugh. “Then, I’ll leave the house to you and your terrible jokes.”

Leon returns Sigrid’s halfhearted laugh with a small grin. He liked it when she made fun of his idiocies.

Leon leaned against the doorframe, watching as Sigrid pulled out a large suitcase from under the bed. It hadn’t been touched since they had first moved in together. Her tight coils had been pulled into a high afro puff and he thought it looked like a crown atop her head.

He had come back to her hair dyed a pearl blonde and it was pretty, a nice contrast to her dark brown skin. His own ash blonde didn’t fit him well since his skin and eye color was already pretty pale. Leon just guessed he was meant to be a somber and dry person.

“Hey, Leon.” He blinks out of his daze, turning to look up at her. “You’re crying.”

Leon lifts a hand to his cheek…oh, my face is wet. He uses the back of his wrists to wipe at his eyes. “…Sorry.” Sigrid was already in front of him, though, forcing his hands away and using her thumbs to brush his cheeks. “You said you’d be okay.”

He downcasts his blueberry gaze. “Leon…you lied to me again, didn’t you?” Of course she knew the answer to this. But, obvious questions were the only way to get him to talk. “I’m…no, I won’t be okay. Sorry.”

With a sigh Sigrid reaches around his shoulder, Leon instinctively flinches, to rest her fingers in the thin strands of light grey tresses. Sigrid begins pushing his head down leading him to lay his head on her shoulder. She sighs again and leans her head against his gently. “Just ask me to stay, my aunt will understand.”

Sometimes he forgot how sympathetic—or, rather, perceptive—Sigrid is. Despite her dominant demeanor and introverted attitude. It was the main reason why the pair lived with each other in the first place.

She could apprehend the feelings of his, considering Sigrid had also survived Raccoon City just a year prior. The imagery daunting and fresh. They had been interrogated by the same secret service (though, he had been the only one recruited by them).

With his attraction seemingly evident by everyone but her and Sigrid’s own kindness they had decided to take up an apartment somewhere in the suburbs of Washington DC. And they’ve lived with each other for the past five and a half years. Even so, sometimes he does forget why he likes her because it just feels…right to have this fondness weld up.

“I almost died, again; I almost didn’t keep my promise to not end up a Leon pancake.” Sigrid genuinely laughs at that, “You’re so silly, Leon.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles into her oversized hoody. It smelled of morning dew and woody sage. The fragrance was completely Sigrid Monroe. “I think that’s why I like you.”

Leon quickly jumps out of Sigrid’s embrace at her remark. She smiles, “And I know you like me, too.”

Before Leon can respond back Sigrid takes his hand in hers. “C’mon, your sugarplum cake is waiting on you.” Leon decides to keep quiet and grin. Sigrid’s said everything, anyways. No sense in ruining a good thing.

[gabbertrapmix]

I miss drawing Xurkitree ^ ^;

[charliesinfern0]

oh noooooo I sure hope nobody goes into my inbox and tells me all about their interests…. I really hope that doesn’t happen bc it would be so cool and awesome if it did……

[liambaker-2017]

Hey I am looking for rp partners!

Hi my name is Liam, I am 18 years old and I am looking for rp partners. I have been roleplaying for 5 years now and do it daily.

Tho I don't have many rp partners hence to why I'm posting this.

I rp as ocs (the gender is your choice)

I usually use first person and ** for actions but I can try to adapt

I dont mind how long your answers are but I tend to write short answers

Please be 16+ to interact as I said I am 18 and anything under 16 would be uncomfortable for me especially because I'm used to Drps (roleplays that contain smut)

I would prefer you using a male character as I don't feel comfortable with female characters

I mainly rp on Insta but I sometimes use Discord as well

My fandoms are:

Maze runners

Midsommar

The Black Phone

Jeepers Creepers

Porkchop n' flatscreen

Resident evil (games)

Dead by daylight

Friday 13th

911

Halloween

Scream 1

Nightmare on elm street (2010)

It (2017)

The walking dead

The walking dead game

Tokyo ghoul

Tokyo revengers

Undertale

Haikyuu

Demon slayer

Until dawn

The quarry

Little Hope

Avatar the way of water

Hazbin Hotel

Gta5

Stranger things

Teen wolf

Wolfblood

Criminal minds

Marble Hornets

Creepypasta

Thats it for now! Thank you for taking your time to read this!

[aceghosts]

OTP: LOVE ME MERCILESSLY

"I know your soul is not tainted/Even though you've been told so/Can you hear the rumble?/Can you hear the rumble that's calling?/I can feel the thunder that's breaking in your heart/I can see through the scars inside you"-Cirice by Ghost

TEMPLATE CREDIT

[rp-partnerfinder]

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Dare to enter the realm of darkness? Join our 18+ Discord RP server, where nightmares come to life and horror tales unfold. 🌙

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Unleash your darkest fantasies and face the horrors that await. Will you emerge victorious or succumb to the shadows? The choice is yours. 💉🩹

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[winksasleeplesseye]

File #008 - This Much is True

City of the Dead

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x OC

Warnings: Slight mention of death

Word Count: 4.4k 

Previous Chapter  Next Chapter

Amara, Leon, and Ada’s first steps were to gather all that they could from the NEST lab. Correction, Amara and Leon’s first steps. As it turns out, being knocked off a platform by Annette Birkin into piles of trash doesn’t bode well for anyone, most of all Ada. 

A piece of shrapnel embedded itself in her leg and Leon had to be the one to bandage her leg, so now it was up to the two of them to retrieve a sample of what Ada called the G-Virus. 

Walking to the entrance of the lab made Amara realize how many leagues above her all of this was. Everything from the ceiling to the floor shines like a new penny, all the colors in this place were muted, Umbrella opting to stick to going full super evil corporation with all the black and white. 

Just about the only thing in this place that had even a hint of color was the splash of an almost blood-red in their logo plastered behind the front desk’s wall. Something about it all creeped her out. 

Amara had never really actually seen a place like this in real life, in movies? Sure, but they always were far enough removed from reality that one could never think they’d really exist. This really is some sci-fi bullshit. 

“If this place doesn’t scream evil, I don’t know what does,” Leon seems to read her mind. 

“Took the words right out my mouth.” 

First goal? Get the G-Virus. Second goal? Pilfer any info left that she can get her hands on from the computers. Maneuvering around the front desk, she fiddles with the mouse waking up the computer. She wasn’t only a sharpshooter on the Bravo team, she was the communications specialist…at least she could put her skill to good use again. 

Her fingers skirt across the keyboard, she’s not usually one for hacking but considering the computer is password protected, she needed to get in somehow. 

Umbrella11. UmbrellaCorp98. EvilPeople1. 

Those are just a few of the passwords that she tries, just for fun because they clearly don’t work. Guess hacking is the only option. She cracks her knuckles briefly. 

Leon comes behind her, looking at the screen as she began to work. “Since when did you become a hacker?” 

“First computer I ever played with as a kid was an Apple computer, computer classes were sparse on base but I took all the ones I could,” She explained, continuing typing. 

“That doesn’t explain how-” 

“Lots of curiosity, Leon.” She had hacked into the FBI and CIA databases once or twice before on a dare from Chris, Rebecca, and Forest one late working evening, it took her a good twenty minutes to calm them down. Then, they eventually tried to find the more silly documents about UFOs but had no luck.

“Won’t Umbrella know you’re hacking them?” Leon sounded a little more than distressed. For the first time in the whole evening, Amara is more than confident in something. 

“I could hack the government’s servers with the goddamn president’s computer and they wouldn’t know who did it. Relax, rookie. Who would they even send to stop me? A boogeyman?” 

“I wouldn’t push your luck around the monster magn-”

“Done.”

“Done?” He looked back at the screen, eyes widening as the email interface popped up. Their eyes both scanned every detail they could take in. “I’m impressed.”

“You’re welcome,” She smiles before getting up from the desk chair.

The emails detailed various correspondence between each scientist, and each section of the lab, all working on something different in what reveals itself to be a sprawling facility. 

The G-Virus was in the West area. So, West area they’ll go. 

Amara couldn’t help but marvel at the advanced technology and what had to be millions of taxpayer’s dollars that went into this underground labyrinth. Impressive. Leave it to Umbrella to build a monstrosity like this. 

As they moved deeper into the East wing of the facility (because of course, nothing is ever just easily accessible), Amara couldn’t help but notice the remnants of what she could only assume was disaster littering the halls. Mutated creatures, sickening amalgamations of flesh, skulls, and greenery that would arise, abandoned equipment, and corpses of scientists were all a bone-chilling sight. 

“Why would you ever need to hack anything?” Leon asks randomly, holding his gun at the ready for anything in this place. The area, the greenhouse she assumes, certainly had become overgrown with vines, they practically burst from the seams of the ceilings and floors. If the zombies weren’t bad enough, now they were wrapped up in dangerous flora. Fun. 

Amara briefly glances at Leon, noticing his focused expression. “STARS needed to know who we were dealing with, it was purely professional. Not like I’m stealing money or anything.”

“That’s fair.”

“Why? You gonna lecture me about patriotism or something, Mr. Kennedy?”

“After all this bullshit? I’m the last one to lecture.”

There’s a comfortable silence between them after that.

The silence unfortunately makes Amara more hyper-aware of the wound she waved off earlier. Every step, every vibration from the bottom of her shoes up to her waist made it hurt a little more. In fact, her legs had become a little more unsteady as time wore on. 

There’s a particular tingle in Amara’s muscles that seemed to be spreading. She’d likened it to the prick of needles on her skin or when an acupuncturist pressed those microneedles under someone’s skin or even the momentary loss of blood flow from applying too much pressure to a limb. 

Only problem? None of those were happening at the moment. That scared her more than anything, more than the zombies, or even the gross creatures she’d been fighting with Leon all night. 

She never considered herself one to get anxious about her health, every visit to her doctor gave her a clean bill of health, the standard for a woman in her line of work and her age. 

Hell, she barely ever got a cold but this gash, slash, wound, or whatever it was…is beginning to sting.

Damn it, why doesn’t she just tell Leon? 

It really, really scared her to admit that she may or may not turn into the very thing they’re trying to fight. A monster to be taken down. A mindless thing only craving flesh. That devastated her more than she wanted to let on because that would result in Leon having to eventually be the one to take her out of her misery, and she couldn’t quite accept that reality yet. 

That and the drive she still possessed, the rage of all that had happened—she couldn’t just die having failed her friends, failed the city she’d grown to love, failed in her purpose to be someone to be proud of.  Especially in a world that seemed determined to crush her under its heel.

So, she pushed down the pain once again. They needed to get that sample, and just maybe she could fight whatever is ravaging her body long enough to get out of there alive. 

Leon took the reins on solving the puzzles and passwords, he’d been more watchful of her since that encounter and a more stubborn part of her wanted to remind him that, goddamn it, he didn’t need to but the more in pain Amara relented, telling him she was fine and opting to look through all the computers they came across. 

One, in particular, threw her right back to the night she’d learned of everything. The emails were vaguely familiar to her. 

August 23, 1998

From: 89912309@mutemail.com 

To: jvalentine@aol.com; credfield@aol.com; stars@aol.com

Subject: TIP / Illegal Activity at Umbrella Corporation

You don't know me. Have to make this quick. They might be monitoring.

I’ve been working for a few months as a researcher at Umbrella Corporation facilities underneath Raccoon City. All sorts of NDAs I am very much breaking right now but seriously, fuck these guys.

Terrible things are happening here. Don't understand it. Don't believe half the things I saw.  Colleagues talking about viruses of some sort, creating something that is a perversion of every natural law I know. People are being hurt and Umbrella is making money.

It needs to be exposed.

Dated August 23. Two days before Amara got a call from Roslynn. Before Mayor Harris’ press conference. This is–was John’s computer.

Amara hadn’t seen this email in the files. She saw John’s correspondence with other researchers, questioning the morality of it all, but this one was hidden in folders deep on the desktop. They must’ve intercepted this one quickly, at least he had the sense to keep a backup. 

John’s logs echo the same as the files she’d found in his home office. Talks of test subjects in different trials and their reactions to “chemicals” that resulted in gruesome side effects. 

A beauty cream or medicine doesn’t exactly make your flesh rot off the bone, does it? Just reading about it made Amara’s gag reflex come in full force, but she also could attribute that to whatever flows in her veins.

Opening up the email interface once more, Amara decided to compose something to hopefully someone or someones that could use this information. Attachments and all. It’s what John would want her to do, she’s sure. 

September 30, 1998

From: 89912309@mutemail.com 

To: jvalentine@aol.com; credfield@aol.com

Subject: Don’t waste this.  (Attachment) 

Hopefully, these things find you both well, and find you by an internet cafe. 

Here’s hoping this information is enough. 

She hits send, powering down the computer. That was simple enough for them both. Though, this was assuming Jill already left the city as they planned. 

The East wing housed even more monstrosities if that were possible.

NEST was really living up to its name. Well, the name that Amara christened for it. As far as stupid lines, she didn’t have Leon beat though.

A nest of insanity. 

That made Amara briefly smile to herself again, stupid jokes made the world go around after all.

“How’s the side?” Leon asks, for what felt the billionth time. 

“Leon–” 

“I know you you’re hurting–”

“Please, drop it!” Amara snapped but instantly recoiled at the harshness of her own words. She hadn’t so much as risen her voice like that all evening. Until now, that is. “I didn’t–I’m sorry, Leon…I just want to get this over with. The sample is within reach. Don’t worry about me.” 

“I–fine. But at least let me put some of this medicine, I’m not budging this time. Fair enough?” 

This time, Amara, running on fumes, actually lets him help her.

“Absolutely fair. If it’ll help ease your mind,” Somehow, Amara finds the strength to push herself up on a nearby counter. 

Leon pulls out the said medicine, carefully pulling up the fabric of her shirt. This is probably the second time in the evening that their shared proximity made Amara’s head spin. The first was the hug he gave her earlier. Nobody had handled Amara quite like Leon was, he was gentle and meticulous about cleaning the wound in a way that didn’t have her wanting to wince at every touch. Her mind also couldn’t help but think that he was pretty good with his hands. 

His handling could be said for just about everything between them this evening, both of them seemed to be in sync. It kind of reminded her of Jill and Chris in a sense, those two seemed to be unstoppable when paired up. Amara definitely would’ve recommended Leon for a spot with STARS. Zombie outbreak, notwithstanding. 

“I care about you, more than I should,” he said softly, his eyes conveying a message of true worry that broke her out of her thoughts. 

The words of what she felt towards Leon formed more and more as the night wore on so her next sentence came to her easily.  

“I care about you too.” Leon stands back to full height, placing his left hand in hers and stroking her face with his right hand. “Seems I’ve got my own knight in shining armor, haven’t I?” 

“We’re not out of the tower yet, come on,” Leon pulls away, but gently helps her off the counter.

After readjusting her shirt, she surveys the room. Another lab, nothing special. All the necessary equipment for working with hazardous chemicals and viruses but her eyes happen upon a face…her face on one of the nearby monitors. Had she not glanced around, she might’ve missed it. 

“What the hell?” Her feet carry her over to said monitor. Leon is immediately puzzled by her movement. 

Her headshot from S.T.A.R.S.

She knows it is because she remembers that burgundy-colored shirt. It got stained not even five minutes later with juice Jill gave her that day. Her hair was also way shorter. The staff photographer told her, “You look great.” Though, Amara knew she kind of was running on three hours of sleep that day. 

Upon closer inspection, a file that is extensively detailed is laid out before her. These people needed to learn to close their tabs. Doctor Li seems to be the one that headed up her file. 

NAME: Amara Moore

AGE: 21

BLOOD TYPE: O- 

NOTES: Subject’s blood is fascinating. Her blood type already made her a perfect candidate for blood donation but studying it further has proven it fruitful.

Subject’s blood is predisposed to mutations. Not to mention, her blood response is exciting, implanting her blood with different antigens proved Wesker’s theory correct. 

It’s only a matter of time before we can fully acclimate the subject to what Doctor Wesker wants. How we’ll do that is anyone’s guess. 

That’s when it clicked in Amara’s head. Wesker stole her blood that very day. There was a blood drive that day outside the station, something that was an annual thing and part of the RPD’s community outreach. 

They tested her blood.

He wanted her to survive Spencer Mansion. He wanted her alive for this. Did he know this outbreak would happen? He wanted her to get infected somehow. The world could’ve fallen out from beneath her feet at this moment.

Shit. She’s infected…

…with what?

How could that be possible? That thing slashed her, not bite her. The answer is right before her eyes, yet she can’t process it. Her eyes felt like they had been looking at everything and nothing on the screen.

“You alright?” Leon asks, breaking her eyes from the screen. 

Something in her is screaming to tell Leon now. Tell him this but she stays silent.

“I’m good, just gathering more stuff for the authorities. Mind-boggling.”

“Oh, okay, you just…acted like you saw a ghost or something.” They walked away in silence, passing through a red-tinted fluorescent hall that sprayed out steam against them. More than likely to sanitize whoever walked in and out. Then another, these were blue-tinted. 

Amara examined the room with a slow sweep. Did this place not have one area in it that didn’t look straight out of a sci-fi film? Tanks line the wall, floor to ceiling, cylindrical tanks were what their technical name was. The liquid inside was clear but it was what was inside the tanks that were a little more…horrific. 

Lights inside the tank lit up weirdly misshapen, mangled body parts. One of them contained a form that only had red, huge yet beady eyes on the grey surface of it. Another looked like a set of hands, the last not even remotely resembling anything Amara could recognize as a life form. 

To the left, was their Holy Grail, which they all fought all night to get to. Ada called it G-Virus. 

There it sat, the last vial to sit within the container. 

Leon grabs it without a second thought, “Huh, that was easy.”

Amara’s gut reaction is to hit him in the arm gently. “Don’t say that, you’ll jinx it!” 

“Ouch! Easy with that arm!” 

“Please, I barely grazed you,” A weight lifted briefly for Amara. “Now let’s get the hell back to Ada.”

Just as they reach the other side, inching closer to freedom from this awful place, something crashes through the ceiling. 

Somehow, that thing that put her in this predicament is still alive. Amara rolls her eyes, she was less afraid of it, just more annoyed than ever actually. Does anything die in this fucking place? 

“You again?” 

“Your ass, again?” 

Leon and Amara both aim their guns, ready to go another round with this thing. 

“Move! He’s mine!” Annette visibly limping from some unknown injury, runs between them. “This has to end.” She loads a white, small gun with something. 

“This has to end.” One shot. 

“Sorry, William. You left me no choice.” The second shot is what seems to incapacitate the monster. A monster she called William? Amara and Leon cautiously approach it, though she wouldn’t dare touch it. The smell emanating from it held a pungent, irritating scent.  

It had grown exponentially since their last encounter, more pulpy, fleshy, and sinewy limbs and bits than she’d like, and yeah, certainly still more disgusting. An uncomfortable shudder rolled down her spine just thinking about the fact that she now has the same blood of this thing infecting her veins. 

“You called this thing William, why?” Leon asked Annette, kneeling close to it. She shook her head, looking over the creature that lay before them all. 

“It shouldn't have been like this,” she spoke, though it sounded less like a response to Leon, and more like an observation. “It’s Umbrella’s fault, this whole mess.” 

“You realize that you’re Umbrella too, right?” Amara raises a brow, she found it hard to give the woman the benefit of the doubt. 

Leon questions her more. “You saying you weren’t involved in this?”

“Yes…but we never meant for this to happen!”

“Tell us everything, right from the start.” 

And she does. Starting from the night that a team of soldiers came to retrieve the G sample from William, bloodied and in a rage having injected himself with G to go after them, all the way up to this very moment. Amara can’t help but find herself more intrigued by the developments, not in a good way. Leon seems to put two and two together, probably having found out more than Amara did in their time apart within the sewer facility. 

“So, you made this monster.” 

“We never intended this to happen.”

“You can spin this any way you want, you’re still responsible.” There’s no time to even react as William reawakened, thrashing about so swiftly that all Amara remembers is Annette, the momentum, and then it all goes black. 

Amara finds herself practically embedded into the wall, leaving a dent in its place. She must have passed out briefly. She opened her eyes slowly, letting out a choked cry when her brain registers the pain in her side and back. Someone had to be looking out for her because somehow her back isn’t broken. 

Leon, coming up from a lift, rushes over to her, “Amara, Jesus, are you okay?” 

She gazes up at Leon, vision blurred slightly at the edges but Leon is the clearest thing she can see. 

“You’re beautiful.”

He tries to fight a smile, albeit the worry on his face is more evident. He shines his flashlight briefly into one of her eyes. “And you’re concussed.” 

“No, it’s a c-clear, reason thought…or maybe my vision is a bit blurry.” Amara flashes him a stupid grin, trying to mask the pain. To be honest, that hit knocked all the air out of her lungs, and taking in breaths kind of…hurt. 

She definitely didn’t want to mention the fight earlier and that wound. The last time she looked at it underneath her shirt is when Leon applied the medicine, it looked disgusting but now she can feel it searing through her abdomen, it was a strange hot, and cold sensation. That thing had gotten her twice now. 

“Let’s get you up now, huh?” 

“Yeah, yeah…but I may have to take you up on that offer I offered earlier.” 

Leon doesn’t even hesitate, holstering his gun and carrying her like a bride on her wedding day. She wanted to remind him of the gunshot wound in his shoulder but it was hard to think with the throbbing pain her whole body was producing. “I’ve got you.”

“My hero,” Amara coughs out, still trying to lighten the mood. She just really needed some air to enter her lungs again. 

“We’re going back to the lab.” 

“But-“ Annette. Amara wasn’t the only one hurt, that monster crushed the former–she remembers that much, at least–, a sickening squelch as it squeezed her between its claws, tossing her aside much in the same way except Amara knew it had to be fatal. She called it William. 

Without Annette, what could possibly be done for her? 

Leon went as quickly as he could while carrying her, damn near stumbling against the door to the infirmary as it slid open. He put her down gently on the other cot, Sherry still occupying the other one. 

Claire must’ve left to get the medicine she needs. 

Amara notices a screen near the bed lights up, the readout on it seems to have scanned her. An infrared picture comes up on the screen. A robotic voice reads out what inevitably she didn't want to tell Leon. 

“G-Virus detected in the host.” He was frozen, eyes darting between the screen and her for any sign of deceit. He found none.

“Amara, why didn’t you say anything?” He asks, but Amara didn’t so much as twitch a muscle, Leon frowned. “Shit.”

“There has to be something here…an antidote maybe?” Leon asked her, a crack in his voice she’d never heard before. He asked as if Amara had the answer but she was just as stumped as he was. She wasn’t exactly resigned to her fate, but without Annette, there were no answers. 

“There’s…s-something…” Speak of the devil, Annette barely hanging onto life practically crawls through the doorway. “It’s where–where you found that sample.” 

Annette holds something in her hand. 

Sherry’s medicine. 

Claire comes in not even a moment later, helping Annette as best she can to get near Sherry.

Annette takes a few heaving breaths, “If you want to survive, you’ll need the anti-viral but it won’t eradicate it all…”

“That’s something, right?” 

Oh, Leon, so hopeful, so determined. It’s probably why Amara understands why she likes him so much. He’s unwavering in wanting to help, even if the odds of that happening are slim to none. 

Claire helps Annette a little more as she fights with everything to speak, “Only problem is…hasn’t been tested, it may not work now.”

“Then why–” Amara’s voice is cut off, not even realizing she’s halfway on the floor until Leon has her by the arms. 

“Shit, Amara,” Leon places the back of his hand against her forehead. She’s hot and cold at the same time, she already knows that’s what he’s feeling. “You don’t feel good. Why didn’t you say anything?” He asks her again, desperate to know. 

“I’d rat-rather save the trouble, especially when it feels like I’m dying.” No use hiding it. She was possibly going to die and there was nothing he, she, or anybody could do about it right now. Tragic.

Miscommunication is a uniquely human characteristic that would eventually drive us all to the brink of insanity but Amara didn’t want to give Leon false hope until she knew for certain there was something that could be done. If that anti-viral didn’t work, she’d at least be happy in the knowledge that Leon could be the one to get this info out if she couldn’t. 

Umbrella still deserved to be exposed, especially knowing what they had done to her. 

Her body finally starts to realize that sad fact, so she lies down on the cot. 

In another display of tenderness, Leon runs a hand over the top of her head. “I’ll get the anti-viral, you stay here and rest. We’ll make it through this, all of us.” 

A nasty feeling wrenched in Amara’s gut. Maybe some of them will. 

A burning, almost stinging sensation hits her eyelids and all the events come crashing hard on her body. Rest doesn’t come easy but it came anyway for Amara. 

Both Leon and Claire go in separate directions. They both had their priorities. 

Leon wanted to be angry. But, he just couldn’t. Seeing Amara’s face and the screen that revealed what he inevitably already knew worried him more than anything. 

In fact, he was more worried that Amara wouldn’t make it. A bullet wound is easy to recover from. A virus that turns someone into a zombie, or even worse what Annette’s husband had become? Not so much. 

If there’s one thing he can get right tonight, it’s helping her. Failure wasn’t an option. Not again. He’d already failed Marvin, failed the gun shop owner and his daughter, and now Amara? No, he co-wouldn’t let that happen. 

Time was running out and he needs to get that virus out of her, he needs to help her if not for his own sanity, his conscience. She kept pushing him off, telling him she was fine…like she wanted to waste away and save him the trouble of noticing. 

The thing was…is that he noticed her long before he got here. That brochure, the one she called stupid earlier in the evening, had given him pause on the second read-through. He barely skimmed it the first time but out of boredom, he looked again. 

He did envision a more cool, suave introduction for when he originally was meant to arrive, but that didn’t exactly pan out, did it? 

Leon wasn’t exactly ashamed…okay, maybe a little– to admit he looked over the team photo as he packed up everything to come here–she was just as pretty, just as sweet as he imagined–even now as everything went to hell in a hand basket, a smile ignited in him as he remembered the photo.

Right now, she didn’t look so good and it scared him. That same face, full of joy in the photo was a stark contrast to what she looked like now. 

He should’ve pushed harder, sooner; had he kept the pressure on her, she wouldn’t be in the position she is now. 

It was an easy choice to find the anti-viral. Way better than the alternative of having to choose to kill her or letting her suffer in silence till a painful end. Amara may have wanted him to be the one to pull the trigger but he refused, he couldn’t let anyone else die. Frankly, besides saving the city, he couldn't care less about anything else. 

He needed her to be okay. 

[kendyb21]

If Reese was stuck in Resident Evil 2:

Meanwhile:

She was offered a nursing internship at Raccoon City but she declined and decided to go to take one in Washington. (Good for her, for now.)

I hope you enjoyed it! ❤️

[roleplay-searcher]

Hi there 🌸, 22 she/her looking for someone (20+ ONLY MDNI) to rp with, I only do fandom rps, and they consist of Oc x Cc, I don’t mind doubling up for these rps either :)

The fandoms I am looking for are:

Life is strange: looking for a Chloe/Steph

Resident Evil: looking for a Jill Valentine/Lady Dimitrescu

Black butler: maybe Sebastian, not too sure tbh

I mainly write 3rd person and do tend to write a lot in the replies, this being around 2-5 paragraphs, I like to get into detail within replies as it’s most fun for me personally.Hinestly it’s okay if you can’t match this for a style but all I ask is that it’s more then a couple sentences for a reply.

I’m normally okay with a lot of things for triggers but it’s still nice to discuss this anyway when plotting.

For the genre it will be romance mainly but there will be other genres involved depending on which fandom it is.

If you’re interested in rping, please either like or comment and I will reach out, same for if you have any questions ect. Thank you :)

!!

[rolaplayor101]

Luciano "Luce" Guzman, my re2 OC

Emergency Commissions open

Aphobes/panphobes, nsfwblogsorfetishists, and proshipppers DNI

He was in the forensics division of the Raccoon City PD. He was in need of a redraw since I hadn't drawn him since 2019! My emergency commissions are open so if you like my art and want some, pls contact me!

Before the redraw

[toothbrushcentipede]

✤𝕽𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖘✤

✣𝕯𝕹𝕴✣

𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖘, 𝕸𝖎𝖓𝖔𝖗𝖘, 𝕸𝖑𝕸 & 𝖂𝖑𝖂 𝖔𝖗 𝕹𝕭 𝖋𝖊𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖟𝖊𝖗𝖘, 𝕿𝖊𝖗𝖋𝖘, 𝕿𝖗𝖚𝖘𝖈𝖚𝖒

✣𝕴𝖓𝖙𝖗𝖔 & 𝕹𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖌𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓✣

𝕳𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖔, 𝕴’𝖒 𝕭𝖆𝖘 𝖔𝖗 𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖉𝖊. 𝕴 𝖚𝖘𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖞/𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖒 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖆𝖒 𝖕𝖆𝖓𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖈. 𝕴 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖜𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖋𝖆𝖓𝖋𝖎𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘. 𝕴 𝖆𝖒 𝖆 𝖏𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖜𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖊 (𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘), 𝖔𝖈 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖔𝖓 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘. 𝕿𝖆𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝕰𝖝𝖕𝖑𝖎𝖈𝖎𝖙. 𝕴 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝕹𝕺𝕿 𝖜𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖔𝖘𝖊𝖝𝖚𝖆𝖑 𝖗𝖊𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖕𝖘 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖋𝖊𝖜 𝖊𝖝𝖈𝖊𝖕𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘.

✣𝕸𝖊𝖉𝖎𝖆𝖘✣

(𝕿𝖛 𝕾𝖍𝖔𝖜𝖘)

𝕬𝖉𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖊 𝕿𝖎𝖒𝖊

𝕮𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖑𝖊𝖛𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖆 (2017)

𝕳𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖎𝖇𝖆𝖑 (2013)

𝕴𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖛𝖎𝖊𝖜 𝖂𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝕬 𝖁𝖆𝖒𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖊

𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕳𝖎𝖌𝖍

𝕺𝖚𝖗 𝕱𝖑𝖆𝖌 𝕸𝖊𝖆𝖓𝖘 𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍

𝕻𝖔𝖕𝖊𝖊 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕻𝖊𝖗𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖗

(𝕸𝖔𝖛𝖎𝖊𝖘)

𝕭𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖘 (1974)

𝕮𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖞𝖒𝖆𝖓

𝕮𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖊 (1976)

𝕮𝖍𝖚𝖈𝖐𝖞

𝕮𝖗𝖎𝖒𝖘𝖔𝖓 𝕻𝖊𝖆𝖐

𝕱𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖆𝖞 𝕿𝖍𝖊 13𝖙𝖍

𝕳𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖗𝖆𝖘𝖎𝖊𝖗

𝕳𝖔𝖚𝖘𝖊 𝕺�� 𝖂𝖆𝖝 (2005)

𝕵𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖎𝖋𝖊𝖗’𝖘 𝕭𝖔𝖉𝖞

𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕴𝖓 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖘

𝕹𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝕺𝖓 𝕰𝖑𝖒 𝕾𝖙𝖗𝖊𝖊𝖙

𝕼𝖚𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖒𝖓𝖊𝖉

𝕾𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒

𝕿𝖊𝖝𝖆𝖘 ���𝖍𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖆𝖜 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖆𝖈𝖗𝖊

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕭𝖔𝖞 (2016)

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖔𝖈𝖐𝖞 𝕳𝖔𝖗𝖗𝖔𝖗 𝕻𝖎𝖈𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖊 𝕾𝖍𝖔𝖜

𝖂𝖍𝖔 𝕱𝖗𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖉 𝕽𝖔𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖗 𝕽𝖆𝖇𝖇𝖎𝖙

(𝕬𝖓𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖘)

𝕬𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖑𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍

𝕭𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝕭𝖚𝖙𝖑𝖊𝖗

𝕮𝖔𝖜𝖇𝖔𝖞 𝕭𝖊𝖇𝖔𝖕

𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖉𝖊

𝕯𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖓 𝕾𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖊𝖗

𝕯𝖎𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖑𝖎𝖐 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘

𝕱𝖗𝖚𝖎𝖙𝖘 𝕭𝖆𝖘𝖐𝖊𝖙

𝕳𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖌

𝕴𝖓𝖚𝖞𝖆𝖘��𝖆

𝕵𝖔𝖏𝖔’𝖘 𝕭𝖎𝖟𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖊 𝕬𝖉𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖊

𝕶 𝕺𝖓!

𝕶 𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖏𝖊𝖈𝖙

𝕶𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖘𝖆𝖒𝖆 𝕶𝖎𝖘𝖘

𝕸𝖆𝖌𝖎

𝕸𝖚𝖘𝖍𝖎-𝕾𝖍𝖎

𝕹𝖆𝖓𝖆

𝕹𝖔𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖆𝖒𝖎

𝕺𝖚𝖗𝖆𝖓 𝕳𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖘𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖑 𝕳𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝕮𝖑𝖚𝖇

𝕻𝖔𝖐é𝖒𝖔𝖓

𝕾𝖍𝖔𝖜 𝕭𝖞 𝕽𝖔𝖈𝖐!!!

𝕾𝖔𝖚𝖑 𝕰𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖗

𝕿𝖔 𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝕰𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖙𝖞

𝕿𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖚𝖓

𝖁𝖆𝖒𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖊 𝕶𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙

𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖙𝖗𝖔𝖓

𝖄𝖚𝖐𝖎 𝖄𝖚𝖓𝖆 𝕴𝖘 𝕬 𝕳𝖊𝖗𝖔

(𝕲𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖘)

𝕬𝖑𝖎𝖈𝖊:𝕸𝖆𝖉𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘 𝕽𝖊𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖓𝖘

𝕬𝖗𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖆

𝕭𝖆𝖑𝖉𝖚𝖗'𝖘 𝕲𝖆𝖙𝖊 3

𝕭𝖆𝖞𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖆

𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖇𝖔𝖗𝖓𝖊

𝕮𝖔𝖔𝖐𝖎𝖊 𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖉𝖔𝖒

𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝕭𝖞 𝕯𝖆𝖞𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙

𝕯𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒 𝕯𝖆𝖉𝖉𝖞

𝕰𝖑𝖉𝖊𝖓 𝕽𝖎𝖓𝖌

𝕱𝖆𝖙𝖆𝖑 𝕱𝖗𝖆𝖒𝖊

𝕱𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝕹𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖘 𝕬𝖙 𝕱𝖗𝖊𝖉𝖉𝖞’𝖘

𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖓 𝕴𝖒𝖕𝖆𝖈𝖙

𝕷𝖊𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖉 𝖔𝖋 𝖅𝖊𝖑𝖉𝖆

𝕷𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖕𝖔𝖕 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖆𝖜

𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖒

𝕺𝖇𝖊𝖞 𝕸𝖊!

𝕽𝖊𝖉𝖙𝖆𝖕𝖊

𝕽𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝕰𝖛𝖎𝖑

𝕾𝖎𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝕳𝖎𝖑𝖑

𝕿𝖜𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖂𝖔𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖉

(𝕭𝖔𝖔𝖐𝖘)

𝕹𝕻𝕮𝖘 𝕮𝖆𝖓 𝕾𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖑𝖉 𝕿𝖔𝖔

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖔𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖋 𝕬𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖘

𝕿𝖔 𝕾𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖕 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕱𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖍

𝕭𝖔𝖞𝖘 𝕽𝖚𝖓 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖎𝖔𝖙

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Dark Forest Residences: Blacksnow & Grouseheart

Blacksnow

Aliases / Nicknames: Blackkit, Kit-Killer

Gender: male

Sexuality: bisexual

Family: unknown non-WhistleClan mother, Yuccapatch (father), Sunny[aw, Micakit, Finkit, Lowfleck (sisters), Snailrock, Birdstripe (brothers), Storkstripe (mate), Nightspot, Rampaw, Hollyfrost, Webbelly, Shaleleaf, Pansystorm (kits), Hailflit, Frogstar, Milkweednest, Mistlefall (adoptive kits)

Other Relations: unnamed mentor, Nightspot, Birdstripe (apprentices)

Clan: WhistleClan

Rank: medicine cat

Characteristics: insecure, lore master, out of the box thinker

Murder Motive: Black Rabbit Legacy

Number of Victims: 3

Number of Murders: 3

Murder Method: poisoning

Known Victims: Shinestripe, Cranecaw, Longheart

Victim Profile: those who threatened the Clan

Cause of Death: yellowcough

Cautionary Tale: N/A

Story: 

In his dreams, a black and white cat came to visit little Blackkit.

Chasmmoor and him became best friends! When he slept, he went to a dark forest, and played with so many other cats! None his age, though. The closest was Fleetpaw, who was an apprentice.

Chasmmoor told him a secret. Shinestripe did something very bad. So bad that somebody died because of it.

One thing lead to another, which lead to deathberries in the prey of Shinestripe, planted by Blackkit.

That was when the Black Rabbit appeared. 

Cranecaw took him aside one morning, and told the kit he knew what Blackkit had done, and that he knew about the Black Rabbit, and Blackkit could tell when he started lying.

“These cats are murderers. If you become my apprentice, I could help you stop going there, and help you repent.”

Blackkit agreed, wanting to become a medicine cat apprentice. And he received the name of Blackpaw, then Blacksnow. But he never stopped talking to his friends, and even gained a mate in the form of Storkstripe.

But…one thing lead to another, and Longheart killing Grouseheart’s little Half-Clan siblings lead to the Black Rabbit pointing it’s cold paw at Longheart, and then Blacksnow and Grouseheart standing over Longheart’s dead body.

“Nobody will know”. Blacksnow said, catching his breath. “I’ll hide the body. You get rid of the scent.”

For his final victim, the Black Rabbit pointed its paw at Cranecaw.

Darkfur had been a kind cat. Blacksnow would take his vengeance, enlisting the help of Grouseheart yet again.

Who could know that the same bout of yellowcough would take both of them?

Grouseheart

Aliases / Nicknames: Grousepaw, Grousekit

Gender: female

Sexuality: asexual, heteromantic

Family: Jumbleeagle (mother), unknown father, Cresswing, Storkstripe (sisters), Springsplash, Caribounose (brothers)

Other Relations: Jumbleeagle (mentor)

Clan: WhistleClan

Rank: warrior

Characteristics: righteous, great hunter

Murder Motive: vengeance

Number of Victims: 2

Number of Murders: 2

Murder Method: Poisoning

Known Victims: 2

Victim Profile: those who were also killers

Cause of Death: yellowcough

Cautionary Tale: ??

Story: 

See Blacksnow

Additional Information: 

--Submitssion by @frightnightindustries

--Caribounose was killed by Nightspot.

--Blacksnow's mother was from another Clan, and Grouseheart's father was a loner.

--Mistlefall has the prettiest design of all of Blacksnow's kits.

--Blacksnow's adoptive kits are from his mate's litters with another tom following Blacksnow's death.