#OC explanations

[lithominium]

do you have any OCs or original species?

I have three main ocs!

the first one is John Reddington

He is like, 30 years old, a crow, and runs the galaxy's largest criminal empire. he uses this empire to help people and dismantle major corporations that run the galaxy. Hes a god with a revolver (specifically a Unica 6) and excellent at hand to hand combat. (obligatory overpowered OC moment) His parents were murdered when he was 12 and the man who killed them adopted him and made him into the crime god and excellent fighter he is today. after he found out how his parents died, he usurped his adoptive father, killed him, and then made his own empire to right the wrongs he made over the past decade or so.

The second one, is also my fursona (John used to be, before my transed gender) Her name is April Aviatrix.

shes a radio hobbyist who went to college for electrical engineering (ref is outdated). In the universe where my oc's are set, radio is kinda really outdated, and music overall has become boring (think Human music from rick and morty [god forgive i mention it]) and one day, while messing around with radios in the spaceship equivalent of a ford pinto, she intercepted a signal that was playing music she had never heard before (70's progressive rock) and decided to track down where it was coming from, to find a post apocalyptic Earth, where all humans are dead. She found the source of the signal, which is a massive radio beacon, attached to a half destroyed museum of music, which had all kinds of instruments, and gear, and a massive collection of music made by human beings on massive amounts of hard drives. She took all of the music into her futuristic thumbdrive, including schematics for synths, guitar amps, guitar pickups, pianos, etc. just anything and everything that the museum had on its barely functioning computers. she was able to turn all of this stuff into workable stuff, and taught herself guitar and other instruments, and performs in a local bar every once in a while, that she works as a bartender at (the electrical engineering degree didn't do much). anyways eventually (i ahve no idea how) she ends up meeting John Reddington, going "join my emo band (rush cover band)" and he ends up being absolutely Phenomenal on a drumkit. and she ends up second in command in the empire, as her electrical engineering knowledge is extremely helpful, alongside her being the only genuine connection to another person John's had since he was 12. She uses an HK-USP-S

the last one is Vincent, which. Hes kinda in limbo right now. He used to be a seagull:

and that was pretty neat i think, but i stopped really caring about him as much once i transitioned. Hes supposed to be a bluejay now, but i haven't drawn it, and he plays bass (specifically a Thunderbird). He doesn't really have much of a personality anymore, as that job's been taken over by April. He does wield a fucked up sword that looks like a lawnmower blade.

I have ideas for others, like a rwby oc specifically who has bands around her arms that can turn into swords (think Finn's grass sword, only not hold able, and more attached at the back of the hand like the pacific rim sword) or gauntlets or be used for mobility. Shes neat. Still thinking about a semblance for her though.

[ivipl1]

this is Sage! They're the "human" disguise/form of the Change God, and take Loop's role in my ISAT au where Mirabelle is the one looping!

Here she is btw

[sensitiveheartless]

Written followup to the horrors comic! It got away from me lol. Most of it's under the cut, cause this part is also a bit long.

~*~

Minutes passed by on the quiet moonlit dock.

Despite the renewed serenity of the night, Chuuya’s heart continued to race sickeningly fast. It hammered away in his chest, as if unable to fully grasp that the danger had passed.

His clothes were heavy and waterlogged, so cold against his skin that he could barely keep from shivering. Icy trickles ran down the back of his neck and dripped from his hair.

Closing his eyes didn’t help. There were far too many twisted corpses engraved in the darkness whenever he blinked. So he kept his eyes open, staring at the planks beneath them as he tried to steady his breathing.

Don’t think about it, Chuuya told himself. Don’t think about them.

Instead, he forced himself to remain in the present moment. Beneath the planks, he could hear the swell of the ocean waters, each wave lapping at the posts in a quiet rhythm. Salt filled his lungs with every breath, the heavy tang of the sea-soaked wood wafting around him.

And against his chest was Dazai’s head, a steady and grounding pressure. His ear rested over Chuuya’s heart, his arms still tight around him.

In that position, Dazai must have been able to hear how hard Chuuya’s heart was pounding—but surprisingly, he didn’t remark upon it. He remained utterly silent.

In return, Chuuya didn’t say a word about the almost crushing strength of Dazai’s arms where they wrapped around his middle. Dazai’s fingers were digging into his ribs, twin rows of sharp pressure, and Chuuya could feel them shaking.

Dazai’s hair was coarse where Chuuya’s cheek rested against it. Back in the day, before Dazai’s defection, he never bothered with conditioner. It seemed some things never changed, even in the light.

For one wild moment, Chuuya wished that he wasn’t wearing a pair of gloves—then he could bury his bare fingers in Dazai’s hair and see if it was as tangled as it looked. And, perhaps, warm himself up. Dazai was like a radiator against him, heat seeping through Chuuya’s drenched layers of clothes at every point of contact, but his gloves remained cold, the sodden leather chilling him to the bone. His joints ached as he uncurled his fingers from around Dazai’s shoulders.

Perhaps it would be worth it to just…indulge for a moment, if only to have something else to needle Dazai about. Really, the man needed to learn how to groom himself properly one of these days.

As Chuuya’s hand hovered indecisively over Dazai’s head, however, he realized that his heart rate had already evened out. While he was reminiscing about Dazai’s damn mess of hair, of all things.

Ridiculous. But that meant that there was absolutely no excuse for the two of them to remain wrapped around each other any longer. Dazai’s shivering seemed to have calmed as well.

“We should—” Chuuya’s voice cracked when he tried to speak, so he paused and cleared his throat before going on. “We should make sure it’s really gone. I don’t want that thing getting the jump on me again.”

Dazai tensed, and his grip tightened so much that for a moment Chuuya could scarcely breathe.

“Oi. C’mon, you need to let me up,” Chuuya wheezed, swatting at Dazai’s shoulder. He strained his neck to look down at the head buried against his chest, a pang of something that was surely exasperation tightening his throat. “I need to be able to reach it, Dazai.”

Dazai remained still for another long moment, then abruptly loosened his grip. Instead of letting Chuuya up, however, he pushed him down to sit on the damp planks, and rose to his feet himself.

“I’ll go,” Dazai said quietly, and strode past Chuuya towards the small, oval mirror where it lay shattered on the dock.

Right. It did make sense to have Dazai touch it first, in case it was an ability that could be nullified.

…But what if it’s not? What if it’s something like Lovecraft? Dazai will be defenseless, Chuuya thought, and instinctively started to his feet as well.

“Stay back,” Dazai said sharply, without even turning to look. He was standing over the mirror, staring down at it. “Don’t move forward until I say so.”

Chuuya scowled, but remained in place. He watched as Dazai bent down and extended a careful hand towards the shards of glass.

One tap, with the tip of a finger. Then another, less cautious tap against the side of the wooden frame. Then another, and another, Dazai’s touches moving systematically across every inch of shattered glass and broken wood.

Nothing happened.

Dazai breathed out, and stepped back. “There. You are now welcome to crush it into dust,” he said lightly, waving Chuuya forward.

His head was still downturned, his eyes cast in the shadow of his bangs as Chuuya walked past him to do the deed.

It was with deep pleasure that Chuuya pressed each little bit of the mirror into nothingness, grinding it down with the overwhelming weight of gravity.

After it was done, Chuuya scattered the dust into the ocean waters below. “What the fuck was that thing, anyway?” he asked, turning back to face the other.

When he turned, however, he found Dazai had moved to sit on the edge of the dock, his legs dangling off the edge.

His back was facing Chuuya. It seemed deliberate.

At first, Dazai didn’t respond to Chuuya’s question. The silence stretched long enough that Chuuya began to shiver again, the cold wind cutting through his damp clothes.

“…A Face Like Glass,” Dazai said at last. “That’s what the ability was called.”

“So it was a gifted,” Chuuya muttered. He walked to Dazai’s side, and dropped down beside him with a heavy sigh. “That mean the user is still out there somewhere?”

“No,” Dazai said softly. “She died some time ago, I’m afraid.”

Chuuya looked at him sharply. “What?”

There wasn’t much light by which to see, but Chuuya knew Dazai’s face like the back of his own hand. Better, probably. And he could tell that the detective’s features had gone unnaturally still.

It was how Dazai looked whenever he was unsure of how much he should give away. Typically his poker faces were more natural, but when he was strongly conflicted, he would simply go blank.

“Explain,” Chuuya said, crossing his arms. “That thing almost killed me, I think I ought to know what it was.”

That got a reaction. Dazai’s lips twitched downward and he looked away, hiding his face from Chuuya once again.

After another lingering pause, however, he finally began to talk.

“A Face Like Glass was the ability of a woman named Hardinge,” Dazai said, as blandly as if he were reciting a history lesson. “She could reflect the darkest thoughts of anyone who looked into that mirror of hers, and give those thoughts physical form. Quite literally a nightmare to deal with, as one can imagine. She was the terror of England. However, after she rose to prominence, the mirror began to behave a bit oddly.

“The more renowned Hardinge became, the more people began to fear her ability. She kept the exact details of the mirror shrouded in mystery, so her enemies were always speculating what horrors it might do to them next.

“Naturally, over time, their darkest thoughts became consumed with fear of the mirror itself. And when Hardinge reflected those thoughts, manifesting them into reality…well. You can imagine what happened.”

Chuuya’s hands formed fists in his lap, so tight the leather of his gloves creaked. His fingers were somehow even colder than before. “A runaway effect,” he said. Despite his best efforts, his voice came out rough. “A singularity.”

“Quite,” Dazai said. “The heights of human imagination should never be underestimated. The more powerful anyone imagined the mirror was, the more powerful it became. When their fears manifested, their imaginations ran ever more wild with terrifying possibilities. Which it would also reflect. And so on, and so on. The only one who could control it was Hardinge herself, stopping the runaway cycle by covering the mirror. She acted as a control for the ability for many years, preventing it from going too far.

“But one day, one of her enemies had the dubiously clever idea to turn the mirror back on Hardinge herself. Which, ordinarily, would have been a mere scare tactic. I’m sure their only intent was to make her hesitate to use the mirror by making her own fears manifest.

“However, that is not what happened. Keep in mind, Hardinge had been watching this ability of hers grow with each battle she fought, gaining strength after strength, only barely containing it with her efforts. Sometimes it must have seemed so powerful that it nearly eclipsed her own self.

“Anyone would be frightened of that. It can’t be surprising that her darkest thoughts contained the fear that her mirror would one day consume her.”

Silence stretched, frigid and fragile as ice.

“…So her own ability ate her,” Chuuya said flatly.

“Yes,” Dazai said. “And without anyone left to contain it, the mirror was unleashed.”

Chuuya rubbed wearily at his temples. “Okay. Then how did it get here? To Yokohama?”

“From what I hear, Hardinge was not popular with the Order of the Clock Tower,” Dazai said. “She had gone into hiding here when her ability overtook her. The Special Operations Division then sent out operatives to contain it.”

Chuuya raised his head. “Oh. They’re involved? Wait, does that mean…was that ex-drinking buddy of yours the one who told you all this?”

Dazai nodded, and Chuuya could faintly make out a crooked smile on his lips in the darkness. “Ango called to warn me of its escape. They had done everything they could to keep it locked away so it could be studied, but all it took was one researcher fearing that the creature had the ability to get out of its cell, and it immediately had that power,” he said, leaning back on his bandaged palms. He gave Chuuya a sidelong look, heavy with significance. “Then, of course, while Ango was briefing me on A Face Like Glass, I also got word that a certain tiny mafioso had gone out to fight an unknown monster that was terrorizing the shipyards.”

Chuuya met his stare with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, so?” he said. “It was scaring my subordinates. Someone had to do something.”

Dazai’s gaze darkened further. “Chuuya, you went alone,” he said. “You tried to face it all by yourself, without even knowing what it was. You could have —” He broke off, and looked away once more. His nails were digging into the wood of the dock, his shoulders stiff. 

Hiding again, Chuuya thought.

For a moment, Chuuya considered pointing out that there wasn’t anyone for him to call for help. Very few of the other mafia members could stand up to an otherworldly threat—and even those who could, like Akutagawa, were not anyone who Chuuya would want exposed to a fear-monster. Everyone in the mafia had far too much darkness to reflect.

Besides, Dazai had no room to scold Chuuya when he was the one who had left him without a partner in the first place.

But even as Chuuya contemplated speaking those cutting words aloud, he found himself unable to.

Because even though Chuuya hadn’t called, Dazai had come anyway.

And, if the reflections of that ability could be believed, one of Dazai’s darkest thoughts was losing Chuuya to Corruption. Right alongside Dazai’s fear of his own past self, and his fear of disappointing his old friend. That…changed some things.

Chuuya sighed, releasing a long-held weight. Then he prodded Dazai’s shoulder with a cold, gloved fingertip. “Hey,” he said. “Look at me.”

Dazai’s shoulders hitched higher, but he didn’t turn.

“What’s your deal?” Chuuya demanded, poking him again. “You don’t have to hide from me, idiot. What, you think I’m gonna make fun of you for having emotions?”

That, apparently, surprised Dazai enough to glance back at Chuuya, his brow furrowed.

“Because I won’t,” Chuuya said. “Not about this. I mean…look, before you showed up, that mirror motherfucker had already reflected a lot of people at me. The Flags, the Sheep, Murase, even N. That’s how it got close enough to me to grab me and drag me under in the first place. So if you’re embarrassed of breaking down or some shit, you shouldn’t be. I did too.”

“It’s not that,” Dazai muttered, his eyes darting away across the dark ocean waters once again.

“Then what?” Chuuya prompted impatiently, leaning closer.

“I froze,” Dazai said, his lips twisting in disgust. “Under the slightest amount of pressure, I broke. You could have died, just because I couldn’t bring myself to fire at a poor imitation of my friend.”

Chuuya blinked. “What’s wrong with that? I broke too. And you were there to pull me out of the water. I saved you, and you saved me. That’s what partners are for, right?”

That finally got Dazai to face him, whipping around so quickly it must have hurt his neck. His eyes were wide, his lips parted in surprise.

Chuuya knew why. It had been years since he had called Dazai his partner.

All too aware that his cheeks were beginning to heat, Chuuya reached out to pull the infuriating man into his arms, tucking Dazai’s head against his shoulder. “Not a word,” he growled, squeezing Dazai tightly in warning. “Make fun of me for this and I’m kicking you into the ocean.”

Dazai let out a choked noise, and suddenly he was clinging to Chuuya just as tight, his fingers practically clawing into his back.

He was shaking again. Or maybe they both were.

“It—it had been so long since I heard his voice,” Dazai cried against Chuuya’s neck, muffled and damp on his skin. “I don’t want that to be how I remember him, I don’t, I hate it…”

Chuuya closed his eyes and saw Albatross laying on the ground in pieces, staring up at him in betrayal. He let out a slow, careful breath, and held Dazai closer.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I know. I get it.”

Dazai was still so warm. And Chuuya’s hands were still so terribly cold.

Making a reckless decision, Chuuya pulled off his soaked gloves and tossed them aside, then sunk his fingers into Dazai’s mess of curls without hesitation. He felt more than heard the sharp inhale against his neck, and the quiet questioning hum that followed. Chuuya ignored it and continued to card his fingers through Dazai’s hair.

“…Chuuya?” Dazai breathed.

Chuuya tugged absently at a knot. “Tangled,” he grunted. “It was bothering me.”

“Mm,” Dazai hummed, and his hands slid up the back of Chuuya’s jacket. “Chuuya’s cold.”

“No shit,” Chuuya said grumpily. “I fell in the fucking ocean, and it’s freezing out here.”

There was a soft laugh, then a strange sensation ghosted across the side of Chuuya’s neck just above his choker, almost like a pair of lips had pressed there. Chuuya’s hands tightened in Dazai’s hair, stiffening in surprise. He could only wonder if he had imagined it, unable to comprehend any other possibility.

He certainly didn’t imagine what Dazai said next, however.

“Come home with me,” Dazai whispered, his lips brushing against Chuuya’s skin once again.

Chuuya made a very strange noise, somewhere between a shriek and a gasp, and used his grip on Dazai’s hair to haul him away just enough for their eyes to meet. “The fuck?” he spluttered, face burning. “What do you mean, where did that — hah?”

Dazai’s eyes were rimmed in red, dulled with weariness. One of his hands wandered up to Chuuya’s cheek and rested there, circling the blush with his thumb. “I don’t want you out of my sight right now,” he said quietly. “That’s all.”

Ah. Right. The reflection of Corruption.

Well. Chuuya couldn’t really deny that he wasn’t looking forward to a night spent alone in his own apartment. He might not dream, but that didn’t matter if he couldn’t even get to sleep. Having someone beside him might help.

And beyond all that—this was the first time that Dazai had ever asked Chuuya to stay with him.

So, dazed and still a little flushed, Chuuya abandoned all common sense and replied, “Okay.”

Dazai captured one of Chuuya’s hands between his own, and brought it to his lips to brush a kiss across his knuckles. “Good,” he murmured, and pulled Chuuya to his feet. A slight smile flitted across his features. “I think I spotted Chuuya’s dreadful hat further towards the shore. Shall we find it first?”

Chuuya’s knuckles were still tingling. “Okay,” he repeated, strangled and utterly bewildered. His thoughts were chasing themselves in circles like a pack of confused terriers, but he allowed Dazai to tow him away towards the lights of the city.

And if Chuuya’s fingers ended up intertwined with Dazai’s as they traversed the shadows…well.

The streets were too dark for anyone to prove it.

“…Wait, is there even room at your place? You’re still living in that shitty dorm, aren’t you?”

A familiar grin and a pair of twinkling eyes turned back to him as they passed through a dimly lit alley. “Hmm? Chuuya has been tracking where I live? How sentimental of you, slug.”

At least he’s getting back to normal, Chuuya thought. “Oh, shut up,” he grumbled aloud. “Of course I’d keep an eye on your annoying ass.”

A scandalized, yet delighted gasp. “Chuuya likes looking at my ass?”

“…?! Shut up! That is not what I said—!”

[blackkatdraws2]

There are more things in the Parable than Stanley knows about. [Blank Scripts AU]

[hazard-c-horror]

Why are the astrals afraid of Hazard? XD

(I know that they are a "parasite", but they are so scrunkly at times!)

:D

Don’t know, maybe they just don’t like silly boi :)

[enden-k]

i know some fuckers reupload my art without a care in the world, im fighting w this for years now and it was a major reason why i deleted my previous art blog and stopped posting art for a long time. i dont hunt the internet to catch everyone tho, even if it pisses me off greatly.

BUT if anyone ever sees my oc art reuploaded, let me know so i can deal with this. one of my biggest fears is people stealing my ocs/worlds or claiming them, i saw that happen to someone once and its scary as hell. i wont tolerate that w my ocs. literally fuck you.

and regarding the AI ask just now; please dont use my OCs for things such as roleplay or anything.

also i rb sm abt it and thoughts its obvious - especially as an artist - what my stance on AI is and what a deep hatred i have for it. do NOT use my things for ANY of that shit.

and, in general while were on the topic of AI bc i see this SO OFTEN: you cant be anti AI and then turn around and use AI writing programs, its all scraped and based on stolen shit. please protect writers as much as artists and VAs.

[schwarznummer1]

tragedy of the amell family

The desire demon offered love, freedom and reunion with her family to the first daughter. She never woke up from the fade.

The second daughter couldn't even find a window in the high tower, so she tied her self a noose, with a templar's child in her womb.

The fourth daughter performed blood magic. Her dreams, emotions and ambition were stripped away along with her dignity. She was degraded to a plaything and died from beating.

The youngest daughter led a happy and peaceful life, became a prominent enchanter in Ostwick circle. But her life vanished in the explosion, along with lives of thousands of mages and templars at the conclave.

The third daughter survived, ended the fifth blight and saved a country, but she could never save her long lost family.

[transmascanakin]

Saw people making yaelokre ocs and I had a crossover idea i couldnt get out of my head

[canisalbus]

I have a feeling that sooner or later you are going to silly-post your way into giving them a canon child on the modern au. Just watch

*gestures vaguely*

[fluffyglass]

Wouldn't it be fucked up if Shelda tried to purify an Eggler and Mother Naturae went "okay bet" and it hatches grumpus Jesus Christ. anyways here's baby Yolka I will not be explaining how Shelda is a single mother

[raviollies]

BOUND TOGETHER

Stained Glass depicts a family tree with the father's side being broken and Lorelai's portrait weeping, a depiction of Lorelai's past as she had accidently killed her father.

The Skull has fangs, the nature of vampirism being tied to undeath, the Black Roses surrounding reinforce the theme of decay, death and dishonour. The Blood dripping from behind it is the price she paid by spilling her father's blood for her vampirism.

Blythe is depicted Dancing - a call back to her nature as performing to make herself liked and play a character to hide her true self.

Pomegranates, an allusion to the Greek myth about how Hades tricked Persephone to be chained to the underworld using pomegranate seeds, Theta tricked Blythe to become a hexblood to chain her to herself

Butterflies and empty cocoons are found in the Daffodils, both are symbols of rebirth, new beginnings and metamorphosis, tying back to Blythe's journey from Elf to Hexblood, and the eventual possibility of being a hag.

The Tied Magpie in the Mirror is reflection of Blythe's true self, a bird being captive by Theta, Magpies are considered an omen of bad luck, believed to have a drop of devil's blood underneath their tongue

Broken Elven statue is Raha's ties to his cultural identity are broken and decayed. The Creeping Vines symbolize the lack of upkeep to preserve this past. The flowers surrounding it are the Spring Snowflakes, known to bloom at the end of winter/beginning of spring - a new beginning to life and hope.

The Empty nest is representative of him having lost his family, and leaving behind the Elven commune he stayed with afterwards. Having left, and no one in his family being alive, all that's left is an empty nest.

A Borzoi is running from the statue, symbolizing Raha running from his past and wishing to distance himself from what hurt him. Dogs are often tied to symbols of loyalty, love, and protection, all things that are true to Raha's character as an individual.

A Red Ribbon surrounds them, the red string usually symbolizes the old myth of the red string of fate, binding people together.

[myokk]

Eloise is VERY studious but it’s just because she needs to prove herself. She’s very insecure that she started at Hogwarts so late & studies like crazy to catch up & so nobody can ever doubt her😤😤 She HATES some classes though and will do the bare minimum for them and is fine with getting a possible T in her OWLs (Beasts), unless she deems the subject important somehow (Divination), but with subjects she LOVES (Transfiguration and Arithmancy) she does a lot of extra work outside of what’s necessary.

She’s never been able to stay awake longer than 2 minutes in History of Magic🥲 she swears Professor Binns infuses his voice with some sort of somnolence charm…

Her two best friends are Imelda and Anne😇🙏they drag her along EVERYWHERE with them

[lucydoodlessometimes]

sometimes, a teenage girl's gotta wear atrocious shoes based on her own alter ego.

[h0use-fly]

Northern Star

Northern Star

Northern Star

Northern Star

[papakhan]

little thing about Sun, advice he's had from other people in his life about other things, and his conflict about Lanius

[voidedjuice]

Bronze-age girly girl