#oc gravedigger

[remadra]

IDK IF I ALREADY SAID THIS BUT I LOVE YOUR OCS so much <3 PLS DO CONTINUE DRAWING THEM WHENEVER YOU WANT TO, I LOOK forward to knowing more about them - also YOUR ARTSTYLE AHH (EATS IT LOVINGLY).

ooh thankyou very much gfhjdfhjjf i have. concepts for levels for them to run through i have their lore i have The Goods and im really really hyped that people want me to share so!!! this page is a little bit silly and fun despite the adults being Like That and i hope you like to see them!!

[residentsofhollowville]

a small android wanders about, biting its synthetic lip. a small message is printed on its wrist. 3RY. it doesn’t hide it. not that one. the gas mask sits awkwardly on its small face. it doesn’t belong here.

Alexis sees him pass her by and thinks nothing of it. The other, the nameless one that hides in some dark corner of her cybernetic mind, doesn't.

Her prosthetic eye starts to rapidly dilate, and she winces in pain. A string of broken code prods its way straight into EL13RY's brain, hissing and rasping.

You.

[s4nnyside]

say hello to sonia

[laertesthelocalstranger]

Mort hears something moving through the graveyard. They cannot be called a someone, not with that light, unfamiliar tread, like an animal getting ready to pounce. But they are still a person, and he will treat them as such, even at a time like this.

He looks up from the grave he's resting atop and turns to them.

"Hello. Who are you?"

@residentsofhollowville

“Hello, gravedigger.” Horatio stops ten feet away. He may be softer, but they are not the forgiving smile that their counterpart is. They hold no grudge against this man. But Horatio will not treat him as someone who has never wrought damage before.

They’re only out here for a walk. An errand to the store, and she had been tired of the constant twitching anxiety that had started building again since the circus messages and the fight. It would be better to wear this face for the journey.

They also could’ve blipped, but being someone calmer for a while was an appealing idea he honestly was glad to have an excuse for, and Horatio enjoys walking places more than they do the quick route.

“I think you know me as Laertes.”

[nobodys-soldier]

Charlie comes home to a strange man on her couch, a shovel on her floor, and an awful lot of blood on the carpet.

He doesn't know why he came back. Pity? Obligation? A need to own up to his actions?

It doesn't matter. It never mattered. He will kill her if he must, but for now, he just sits there, quiet.

@residentsofhollowville

She screams. Of course she does. What else do you do when you find a man, a stranger, sitting in a mess of blood in your living room?

Charlie reaches one shaking hand back to the door handle, and another to her purse. She keeps a knife in there. She doesn’t think she ever told Marc that.

[leftsharkhypocrite]

Back to good ol times with the Borderlands series. Sadly due uptade I can't play The pre-sequel (my favorite) but fortunately the Bl2 works without any problems

So meet non canon version of my sona

He's an npc you can meet in Sothern Shelf, Three horns or in Highlands. You can trade with him (don't ask where he got the items) and even talk normaly. Even though he is psycho, he has retained consciousness, although he is gradually losing

[mandalhoerian]

GRAVEDIGGER act i: no time to die leon kennedy x oc

[speyeralling-down-thy-majesty]

Out of the door springs a joyous, bouncing creature, alight and alive with sparks and spirals, swinging and smiling and filling up the space.

"Cousin! You're back!"

It feels something else, through the anchor that keeps them grounded to the real. Someone they know. Someone who is sick.

"Can I come out here?"

@residentsofhollowville

"Please."

Amelie closes its eyes, slowly, readying themselves for Dreaming's entrance.

[nutluvs]

new rdr oc alert!! :3

; vincent “gravedigger” hawkins — he/him/his

· july 21, 1854 : 45 years old as of 1899 : 53 years old as of 1907 : 57 years old as of 1911

🐎 relationships · marco guerra · positive · friends · john marston · slightly negative · acquainted · dusk biancchi · positive · friends · arthur morgan · average · acquainted · iyu ugajin · positive · acquainted · occupations ranch hand : 15 years old to 25 years old blacksmith : 25 years old to 30 years old wanted outlaw, gunslinger, and drifter : 30 years old to death

🐂 personality · positive adventurous, efficient, mature, self-reliant, well-read · neutral determined · negative aloof, blunt, insensitive, resentful, secretive

· quotes : “you ain't so smart if you think i'm bein' serious. all of what i just said—lies. you're an adult. figure by now you'd know the difference between genuinity n'sarcasm... dumbass.” : “no, i ain't joinin' your.. uh, what is it, 'cause this.. uh, not a gang. what my point is, uh, i ain't the type to ride with other fellas. i work best alone.” : “what do i do? i kill people. i kill people and i ain't never felt bad 'bout it. and i just might kill you, if you keep botherin' me. you understand that, you disgustin', drunk bastard?”

🦬 songs · dogs of war : blues saraceno “when i hear the devil callin’, god will pay him for what he’s due.” · big iron : marty robbins “and he’s here to do some business with the big iron on his hip.” · devil’s got you beat : blues saraceno “evil on your mind, trouble at your feet, living by the gun, the devil’s got you beat.”

· voiceclaim : joel miller (the last of us [game]) 🦌faceclaim

dusk and marco both belong to @fadingkittenx! i’ll release more on him soon! hope you guys enjoy :)

[sniixnn]

nadya

[gravedigger-au-asks]

Several more designs.

A janitor, the front desk worker, and doctor.

A recovering patient, a trapped soul and the main haunter who has trapped the soul.

A recovering from brain damage patient and his closest friend.

OC insert by a friend: 4TL4S's design.

A haunter of the hospital.

;; ooc, this is not my oc! This was made by a friend of mine.

[residentsofhollowville]

I heard we’re bullying Mort now?

I'd - I'd really rather you not. Today's already been difficult. I want to be left alone.

[styxwings]

I really like making these lyric pages :3

Feat. Pandora from @vapor-web

Shrike and Mort from @residentsofhollowville (not counting Hollow. Because she is dirt)

And Laertes from @laertesthelocalstranger (theater arc specifically)

(Sorry yall for the tags)

[frillygrim-archive]

[crimson-catalyst]

speak with your words not your teeth!! thats what they tell you! but its a dog eat dog world!

[nullshocked]

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜💗💖💕💘🤎🤍🖤 sorry i mean uhhhhhhhhhhhh dealers choice

Send a Heart + a Ship For a Brief Snippet 💗 slow kiss / gentle kiss / inevitable / soft

He’s waiting outside the bar, chainsmoking through a pack of cigarettes when someone asks: “Are you Jean?”

The name always makes him tense. He only lets two people call him Jean anymore: Promise because she’s known him long enough that she’s allowed to, and Virgil because that’s his partner. The only other people who know that name that are people he doesn’t want to talk to, and frankly? Jack has no clue who the fuck this man is. Some older human, made haggard by too much alcohol and the late hour. No names or memories spring to mind.

“Sorry,” Jack grunts. “Wrong guy.”

“You don’t remember me?” The man asks. “I came by so many times.”

And looking at him, Jack thinks he might sort of recognize him. Or rather, he recognizes the kind of man he is. There were a lot of men like him back then, their faces rendered foggy and incomprehensible by the shit he was using. And that just means he has even less reason to talk to him. He takes a drag off his cigarette and blows smoke in his face.

“Fuck off.”

The man doesn’t like that. Beer makes him as mean as it makes Jack stupid enough to pick a fight. He grabs Jack’s arm and Jack stops listening to anything he has to say. Panic seizes him the way it does when anyone suddenly grabs him, kicking and shouting, trying to twist himself out of his own jacket just to get away.

He nearly tumbles over when something slams into the man and knocks him over, wobbly knees struggling against the momentum of the man hitting the pavement. It takes Jack a few seconds to register Virgil, the taller man placing himself between Jack and the man. The elf doesn’t even have to say anything. The man takes one look at him, scrambles to his feet, and staggers down the street away from them.

Jack works his jaw and leans against the wall. “Asshole.”

“You okay?” Virgil asks quietly.

“Couldn’t take no for an answer, that’s all.” Jack fishes out another cigarette from the dwindling pack, fingers shaking as he goes to light it. He feels sick to his stomach. More nicotine isn’t likely to help that, but if he doesn’t keep his hands busy he’ll just end up tearing at his own skin.

“Can we go home?”

“Yeah.”

His free hand finds Virgil’s arm, fingers tangling in the sleeve of his coat. Jack always feels strange showing any outward affection to him in public, feeling ridiculous and clingy for doing so. But right now he doesn’t want to stray too far from the other man. His nerves ease a little more with Virgil close to his side.

When they get back to the apartment, he finally breaks down and cries—angry, bitter tears, frustration and sorrow melding together until it overwhelms him. He presses his palms into his eyes and starts to sink to the floor, but Virgil catches him in his arms and pulls him in.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” He feels pathetic and weak, that somehow all this time can pass and yet it never stops. Something finds him, sometimes a man and sometimes a memory, and it all comes flooding back again.

Virgil doesn’t waste words. He holds Jack in his arms and lets him cry, his fingers massaging the base of his neck. And when Jack runs out of tears to cry, he bends down and kisses the corner of his eye, then his forehead, then the tip of his nose. And then he takes Jack’s face on his hands and kisses his lips, long and slow and gentle.

“You’ve got me?” Jack murmurs, more statement than question.

“I’ve got you,” Virgil responds softly.