#oc>>

[tattlesandtales]

Introducing: Maxine "Max" Virgo

"I want to tell you this story without having to confess anything. I want to tell you this story without having to be in it." —Richard Siken, 'The Torn Up Road'.

*picture from Pinterest

Quick facts:

Loves her dog more than anything in the world and would do almost anything for him.

Her Italian Greyhound's name is Arthur, after Prince Arthur in BBC Merlin, but she calls him Froggy because of his buggy eyes.

Her dad was an infamous serial killer who was arrested when she was 12.

She knew nothing of his crimes and up until he was charged and found guilty, she idolised and loved him.

Went to the police academy and studied forensic sciences at college.

Has not been in the spotlight or talked to the media ever, but the urge to tell her story has eaten away at her enough that she has quit her job and is writing a book.

If she feels it safe to do so, will talk to journalists, writers, etc, about her childhood and her dad now.

Is a fashion icon.

Is a very lonely lesbian who has never had a friend, let alone a girlfriend.

Loves the fantasy genre.

25+

Max had a love-hate relationship with the person she saw in the mirror. She knew she was beautiful, with her smooth, olive complexion, dark eyes and thick lashes, full lips, long and soft hair, small nose, high cheekbones, and on top of all of this she was skilled with her makeup brushes and knew how to highlight all of her features. She loved doing her makeup, it was therapeutic, and she loved the creative and artistic outlet, but it was needing to look so closely at herself to do it that was a struggle. The dark eyes that looked back at her were so familiar. A physical haunting of the father she'd lost at twelve years old. She had his eyes, his nose, his dark hair. So much of him made up who she was, and it was a thought that kept her up at night, and had for many, many years.

Asking her reflection who she was wasn't a new development in her life, but she'd since come to learn that it was a lot to ask of yourself. She knew she was shaped and created by the man who'd raised her, a man who so wholeheartedly believed that women were not worth the dirt they would be buried in, but she also knew that her father wasn't capable of feelings and that she herself had been crushed to find out the truth about him. She also knew that his arrest was at the perfect time, because if it was any later and she stopped looking like his good little girl and more like a woman, she would have become one of his victims.

Still, looking into a mirror and seeing the woman she had become, she hoped he was proud of her.

Max blew the excess blush off her makeup brush and tapped her reflection on the nose. "That's enough out of you," she said, then focused her attention on the task at hand. Getting ready to go to a bar and people watch and see if she would work up the courage to speak to girl, or if she was going to get drunk and catch a taxi straight back home to have a fight with the manuscript of her childhood, drink more wine in her lingerie, and tell her dog how much she loved him.

[pterygoidwalk]

sometimes i wonder what my cat named me

[doubleca5t]

He's saying what we've all been thinking

[planefood]

The final stage of every OC's creation is having to go through websites like this to name it:

[ra3kiv]

sea, swallow me

[liliotl]

who can relate

[strategypillar]

Older than history itself

What if the oldest vampire was a Neanderthal girl 🤔

[not-avril]

The trope I appreciate very much

[kianamaiart]

Pretty Pretty Please I Don't Want to be a Magical Girl

While I’d want this concept to mostly be a lighthearted comedy, since that’s more my forte, the north star (heh) of this premise would be the loss of passion for something you once loved, feeling the pressure/expectations of sticking with something that you’re “a prodigy” at and the subsequent burnout. How hard do you fight for an old passion or at what point do you just let it go? Is it even okay to give up when so many people are counting on you? 

Sounds bleak but I promise I’m an optimist and that will always reflect in my work :)

[failbaby]

Saw someone calling HOT TO GO "YMCA for gay people" and like. I get what you're saying but. Have you actually listened to YMCA

[tattlesandtales]

Introducing: Sunny May Holmes

"No one wanted to play with me as a little kid, so I've been scheming like a criminal ever since, to make them love me and make it seem effortless." —Taylor Swift lyrics, 'Mastermind'.

Quick facts:

17 years old.

She/her (poked her gender with a stick when she was fourteen and decided she didn't want to look any closer).

Lesbian.

Born in Queensland, Australia, but her and her mum moved to Western Australia just shy of her seventeenth birthday.

Dark blue eyes and short red eyelashes.

Shoulder length, wavy red hair

Freckles. So many freckles everywhere.

Fresh scar on left cheek an inch from the corner of her mouth to an inch away from her ear.

Literature nerd.

Works in an old bookshop owned by a kind of weird old woman named Winona.

Sleeps in her car a lot because her mum is unstable.

Really, really, really wants to belong somewhere.

I do NOT write smut with my under-age characters—even if the face claims are of age.

Sunny blearily sat herself up and rolled her ankles slowly, a stretch inching its way up her body, followed by a loud yawn she didn't bother trying to muffle. Considering she didn't have a phone, the sun coming through her windscreen woke her up instead of an alarm, which was by design, but she cursed the early morning rays nonetheless.

"Wakey, wakey, cheese and bakey," Sunny murmured, her arms falling to her lap after the stretch left her fingertips above her head. The eggs and bacon she was referring to was an open bag of Cheetos Cheese and Bacon balls she'd started for dinner the night before, but it was better than nothing.

After a couple more moments of psyching herself up to get moving, Sunny let her hand fall to the side of her car seat and pulled the lever, bringing the back up with rapid clicks until it slapped her in the spine. She'd only had the car for a couple weeks and she was still getting used to how it worked, but after the amount of times she'd woken up inside it since she bought it, she should have been able to raise the seat back withoit injury. She couldn't, and she rested her head against the headrest with a groan, taking a moment to silently berate herself before pulling a second lever and walking herself forward into place behind the steering wheel so she'd be able to drive safely in a little bit.

The next thing she needed to do was make herself look, or at the very least feel, presentable, but it took courage to look into the rear view mirror at her reflection so she tidied up her passenger seat first. It didn't take long to put the text book in her backpack, and close her biology notebook up and slide it in behind it, the hard part was finding all the highlighters, markers and pens that had fallen out of the pencil case she'd upended in her sleep, and putting them back where they belonged.

When the bag was stashed on the backseat, Sunny sighed in resignation and flipped the sun visor down and slid the mirror cover aside to see her reflection. Sunny didn't linger, she knew her freckles still splattered over her nose and cheeks and up towards her forehead, and that the scar on her left cheek was red from sleeping with her face turned into the headrest, and her short red eyelashes were begging for mascara she didn't care enough to carry with her. All Sunny did, all she really could do, was scrub all the sleep crust from her blue eyes, check for any unfortunate zits on her chin or nose—thankfully, there were none—and then check her teeth to make sure there was no food stuck. She had a toothbrush, toothpaste, mouth wash, anti-perspirant and deodorant in the front pocket of her backpack that she'd use in the school's gym before class started, but she made a mental note to find a home to shower in that afternoon—whether she could be bothered dealing with her mother, or if she knocked on her aunt's door was a choice she'd consider later. It had only been forty-eight hours sincs she last showered, but that was enough to make her feel self-conscious in the school hallways.

"I better pass this fucking bio test," she told her reflection before slapping the visor closed and digging around in her glove box for her car keys so she could start her day.

*pictures edited by my fiancée, screen capped from 'Yellowjackets' season 2, episode 7.

[newtid]

in spirit i am a 7th grade boy

[doubleca5t]

One time I was explaining to my dad how unfair it is that every big city has at least a couple gay bars but there are only like 20ish lesbian bars left in the country and he responded with "That's cause gay men have a good party culture. Lesbians don't have time to party, they're too busy debating the sociological implications of things and studying for postgrad degrees" and as much as I wanted to tell him he was out of line for that, as a lesbian who spends all her free time on Tumblr debating sociological implications and messaging other lesbians in discord servers where everyone has a PhD or masters for some reason I felt like I might not be the best person to make that argument

[rielzero]

Ohh, so I was looking at my storage and found these! I originally shared them on twitter before yeeting the platform. Anyway, feel free to use! Art memes for your oc :D

[fluffffpillow]

Bug lady

[gawki]

Night Mare