Heya, this is my oc blog, but before we talk about that, here’s some house keeping.
I’m the mod, Lucas, he/him my main blog is @batsonmyboxers where I post non oc lotf stuff, and non lotf stuff. So if you hate lotf ocs, go to the there.
Assume that if the text isn’t colored that it’s me :]
The mod here and all the characters are minors so please keep asks appropriate
Anything written in normal text as seen here takes place early on in the island. Anything bolded takes place later on.
Now, the thing you’re here for: my characters (under cut)
An almost scraggly girl, donning two pigtails and face paint approached. She held herself in a more put together manner than the other hunters. The look in her eyes was less crazed, less like an animal. Whatever the others had lost, she seemed to hold dangerously close to her chest. Dangling it like a prized catch.
Angelica Lozifarico is a 12 year old (July 25th) biggun who’s a hunter, but keeps her wits about her. However, I think of her not like some sort of Hannibal lecter and a lot more like a middle school bully (because she’s fucking 12) She is still kind of a manipulator though. She’s pretty useful, she’s not afraid to get her hands dirty to catch food, but if she wants someone messed up, she’ll usually avoid throwing the first punch herself.
He sat in what could’ve been a daze. The look on his face somewhere between a lost man and pure childlike stupidity. Though, his other characteristics supported the latter assumption much more. He was practically useless, claiming a sun allergy and lacking practical knowledge that made even piggy a vague asset.
Neil “Brick” Andrew Pauper is an 11 and a half year old (April 1st) biggun who’s frankly entirely useless. He grew up very sheltered because his parents feared him getting bullied for his albinism. He’s also pretty weak, and needs to be careful in the sun. He’s all in all, fucking useless, and he can’t really grasp that. Brick really doesn’t know many things, but he loves to learn and absorb new information, though this can come off as annoying.
Everything about the boy in-front of him could be simply described as sickly. His skin was a milky almost transparent color, bathed in scabs and acne. His eyes were dark as the day was long, and very tired looking, with dark circles that’d seem more at home on a grown man who worked long hours at a factory. Contrasted with his general demeanor, was a strong posh accent.
Enoch Kozlov a 14 year old (December 17th) biggun with a gloomy, almost morbid demeanor. He didn’t join either faction on the island, opting instead to watch from afar. He’s a generally weird and somewhat unpleasant guy due to his morbid interests and slight complex. He’s a very damaged child, someone who became a monster because he was told he was one. He lashes out and bears his teeth, but less like a wolf, and more like a frightened dog.
[A girl with yellow ribbons in her hair observes Angie from afar, her dark eyes scanning the way she plunges the spear into boar's body]
[A twig snaps. Angie jolts, searching for the creature that made the sound. Was it friend or foe? Predator or prey?]
[The girl emerges, pushing her glasses up his nose]
Your very good at that, y'know. I don't see many girls hunting. It's nice to know I'm not alone
[She twirls with a lock of her hair]
I like your bows
-🐇 ( @lunar-lop)
She took a second to get a better look, a smile quickly making its home on her face,
“Of course I am! Can’t let the boys have all the fun, can I?”
A notable air of tension seemed to lift off her once she realized another girl was her company. Her feet sort of bounced while dragging the pig behind her, eager to talk.
“If you think this is big game, you should’ve seen this one I got awhile back! Big and fat it was- like a bear wearing a pigs skin-!”
She gestured all big with her hands, puffing out her cheeks and blowing in an imitation of the thing,
“Cool you like to hunt. How do you do it? I don’t see you in hunting parties often, you don’t wear paint, not that you’ve got to, I’m just curious is all- Oh!”
Eyes darted to the hair of the girl across from her, pigtails in yellow bows. An even bigger grin spread across her as a simple mind remembered the strangers compliment to her hair,
“We’re matching!”
She gestured at her own hair and then the girls, mouth toothy and awkward and full of glee.
Yeah, We're matching! I'm um, I'm Ruth Sanchez, nice to meet you Angie.
[She plays with a lock of hair from her pigtails]
I uh, I usually hunt by placing- placing traps here and there. I don't hunt with the uh, with the boy because I don't like them much. Haven't had the- the need to paint my face since I'm not, y'know...
[She waves her hand, vaguely gesticulating.]
Maybe... maybe we could go hunting sometime and- and you could help me do my face paint? I could- um, I could give you one of the pelt I've been trying to tan. My um, my aunt is really into taxidermy and- and tanning and those sorts of things so she um, she taught me.
“I don’t much like the boys either, they smell bad and they’re mean. Roger’s alright, he knows when to shut it. But I get not wanting to hang around them,”
She started bouncing herself between her legs, too much energy for her relatively small frame to hold.
“I’d love to go hunting together! Traps are a good idea but it’s easier to hunt something face to face sometimes. I’ll show you, sure. Oh I don’t need a pelt it’s plenty hot here. Say, do you know how to sharpen a stick? Or do you have a knife? I assume you do if you’ve got your machines but it’s alright if you don’t, I can’t get canny about it.”
[A girl with yellow ribbons in her hair observes Angie from afar, her dark eyes scanning the way she plunges the spear into boar's body]
[A twig snaps. Angie jolts, searching for the creature that made the sound. Was it friend or foe? Predator or prey?]
[The girl emerges, pushing her glasses up his nose]
Your very good at that, y'know. I don't see many girls hunting. It's nice to know I'm not alone
[She twirls with a lock of her hair]
I like your bows
-🐇 ( @lunar-lop)
She took a second to get a better look, a smile quickly making its home on her face,
“Of course I am! Can’t let the boys have all the fun, can I?”
A notable air of tension seemed to lift off her once she realized another girl was her company. Her feet sort of bounced while dragging the pig behind her, eager to talk.
“If you think this is big game, you should’ve seen this one I got awhile back! Big and fat it was- like a bear wearing a pigs skin-!”
She gestured all big with her hands, puffing out her cheeks and blowing in an imitation of the thing,
“Cool you like to hunt. How do you do it? I don’t see you in hunting parties often, you don’t wear paint, not that you’ve got to, I’m just curious is all- Oh!”
Eyes darted to the hair of the girl across from her, pigtails in yellow bows. An even bigger grin spread across her as a simple mind remembered the strangers compliment to her hair,
“We’re matching!”
She gestured at her own hair and then the girls, mouth toothy and awkward and full of glee.
Monica was enjoying a pleasant walk on the island, as long as your definition of pleasant involved fog and a few splinters. As she was moving, she felt someone else’s body shove against her arm. She angrily jerked her head towards the boy who had bumped into her.
“Watch it, aaa…”
She trailed off, jaw hanging in silence and heart beating in her head for a moment before collecting herself. She couldn’t hold back a wry chuckle.
“Christ, you look like the ghost of my (still living) older brother, night-shift-eyes.”
She paused for a moment in anticipation, finally lowering her spear. Nothing. She stared at him with mild disgust, continuing flatly.
“Are you going to apologize for nearly causing me to spear myself or do you want me to stand here and wait?”
- 🪲
(Monica of @ribbits-british-children )
“You have a lot of nerve talking like that after running into me.”
He moved away, taking a slightly higher position on a rock and glaring daggers at her.
“And I don’t know who your older brother is but I frankly don’t care to learn if he’s anything like you. You seem an awful lot like those little kids up in the sand but much too old to be acting it. You’ve ought to be about my age but I’m sure your behavior would get you scolded by a teacher back home.”
He broke eye contact midway through, starting to pick a scab on his arm, only half looking at her.
“Maybe that’s why you’re all excited to be here, don’t have to answer to anybody saying you let them down.”
In a few seconds he thought up something to rile her up.
“They’re still watching you. I’m not supposed to tell, it’ll ruin the results probably, but they are.”
He got to eye level with her, real close.
“You know that itch you feel in your skin all the time? That’s a chip, to track you. Military stuff. They say it’s Russian spy technology, but it’s actually for a war against the people- I should know.”
Half his blabberings were rumors from kids at school, the rest were rubbish even he didn’t understand. No matter, it’d either give her a fright or make her think he was crazy. Both would get her to piss off. He had… more important matters to attend to.
“You’ll probably go home after but I doubt they’d want you anymore. Once they realize how rotten of a child you are. Just a hunch anyways.”
A closer inspection would reveal the source of the voice as a slightly chubby boy of average height with dark matted hair. Maybe a year or two younger, but definitely taller than Micheal.
“I think if you went to my school someone would’ve beaten you to death already.”
“It’s kind of pitiful.”
His expression remained unreadable.
“Well? You’re one of the older boys yeah? I’m Enoch Kozlov.”
He stuck out his hand like a well trained businessman. Firm, and almost inviting.
> A girl's voice echoed through the bushes and creepers of the forest. A few more moments of branches below snapping under what seems to be the weight of footsteps and the rustling of leaves, before a blob of blonde hair with black roots entered Angie's vision.
Hi— Uhm.. Sorry, I- I got a bit stuck in there. The vines got to me.
Say, is your name Angie?? Someone named Boat told me about you, I just wanted to ask if there's any other girls around the island aside from us. I didn't get into the initial meeting in time.
> This is insanely embarrassing for a girl who'd usually be able to keep her cool under pressure. She knows the difference between belladonnas and blueberries, find good water sources, and hell of a ton of things that a C# can't do to help survive. And yet she can't even properly introduce herself and make a good impression without making a mess of herself and be a damn embarrassment even to people she's actively looking for. What really are you, Ellie? Are you plain stupid?
My name is Ellie. Ellie Harrison.
- @following-harrison-lotf (𓃵)
“Eugh Boat. Don’t even waste your breath on his name, best to avoid him honestly.”
She fidgeted with her stick, smiled, and started to untangle her. Stabbing through the more knotted vines.
“I’m Angie, yeah. Well, Angelica but my dad always called me Angie and so did the kids at school, so I’m Angie.”
She eventually got her out of the vines with only a few scratches to show for it.
“There’s some other girls on the island,”
She started to kind of pick at her teeth. Notably, unladylike.
“There’s a lot more boys but I’ve seen some other girls around. Ampha’s one of them, she’s fun. I get trying to find other girls, the boys here drive me half mad. I wish I knew some more lasses that I could lead you towards. I spend most of my time with Jack’s lot of hunters. They’re annoying but I like being useful.”
“Is Ellie short for anything?”
(Mentioned: Boat of @askboat and Ampha of @the-celestial-fawn )
He seemed to kind of come from nowhere, with tangled hair falling in his face.
“That’s kind of odd, generally speaking. I fancy myself a bit of a loner as well though, so perhaps I’m odd as well.”
He offered up a hand, like a child’s impression of a businessman,
“Kozlov. Enoch Kozlov. You?”
- (Enoch from @angels-enclave )
[seemingly from nowhere, a boy around his age or older appeared, shocking, Haneul as he quickly gathered himself together to shake the boys hand out of respect. While doing so the comment from, Enoch didn’t slip his ears causing him to pause.]
“What- oh I wasn’t aware someone was hearing me talk to myself.. that’s embarrassing my names Haneul..”
[He cleared his throat loudly, trying to change the subject]
“Well you don’t seem odd—maybe we could be friends if you’d like, of course. You say you’re a loner, correct? Unless.. you like being alone, that’s nice too I guess.“
"lozifarico" it's a voice she has heard before through wind and smoke, arguments and half-reconciliations. though, never one that has directly spoken to her, up until now that is. when she turns around, ainsworth is standing in front of her, their eyes catching for a moment. but, he doesn't look... mean, as he usually does with the other boys his age. if anything, the everette ainsworth, looks awkward? why is that? nevertheless, it's strange and it certainly doesnt suit him. he clears his throat, quietly.
“would you mind..." helping. he means to ask for help, but it does not leave his mouth, as if the word doesn’t exist in his everyday vernacular. his pride, really, is anything but palpable. though, he knows angie is smart enough to pick up the implications, so he doesn't bother finishing his sentence properly for once— something he surely would have gotten scolded for back at home. his father didn’t exactly appreciate loose ends when words were so easy to intertwine, per his words, especially when it came to conveying his disappointment it seems. but, his father is not here, and this place was evidently not home. not in the slightest.
he sighs, irritated, though not at her. “it's beginning to become a nuisance, but i'd rather not cut it, less i risk snipping off to much and looking like simon during that one retreat" the image in his mind alone is enough to bring back a more prominent frown on his face, cringing almost in flared disgust.
he mumbles something underneath his breath, nearly in reluctance, his eyes narrowing at her slightly before he points a finger to the two pigtails that drape down the sides of her nape. “you seem to know your way around hair, like you know what you're doing. can't say ‘hat about most people here, don't you agree?" he then points a finger at his own hair. golden locks that have grown past the term of short, at least for a boy. they curl at the edges, and are cleanly from his constant washes in the ocean waters, but they are quite tangled and the hairs that frame his face get in his eyes. he tilts his head then, looking off to the side.
"so i'd rather have someone do something with it, rather than snip it to shreds. i 'hought you might have the qualifications. do you not?"
— everette ainsworth @everettes-requiem 🐑
She lightly narrowed her almond eyes and looked him up and down as if to contemplate. She wasn’t a big fan of most of the boys on the island, but she always enjoyed a compliment and this one seemed, less unbearable.
“I suppose I do. Tie up my own hair enough.”
She produced a small shred of fabric that had once been white, perhaps a length torn from one of the many abandoned shirts.
“A little boring in terms of ribbon, but it should work just as good,” she motioned to a fallen length of tree, “Sit there if you want me to fix it.”
She took a particularly long shred methodically wrapped them around her hand, and then began to section the blond boy’s hair.
“Your bangs are too short for a ponytail, that’s the hair style I’m doing for you- I thought you probably wouldn’t want pigtails and I don’t know how to do a bun,”
She allowed the front of his hair to hang low, but scooped up as much as would be comfortable into a clump on the back of his head, and placed her palm on top of it. The fabric on her hand unraveling like a spool of thread to loop around his hair a few times.
“The point is, you’ll have to live with some hair in your face. Don’t think it’ll be too different, probably still longer than you’re used to, but the heaviest parts are up and out of the way at least.”
She finished a final wrap around his hair and tied a bow around it. Maybe not the nicest bow, or the neatest, but it’d keep secure for a good while.
“Alright,” She bore a light smile, trying to hide the simple joy of usefulness, and patted him on the back, “You’re done. Come back if you need me to redo it I guess.”
Angie your hair is so pretty is there any other hairstyles you like to do? Or want to do in the future?
She grinned, “Thank you! My dad used to do them for me, but he’s not here, so I do them now.”
She thought about it, a slight sadness about her, “I just do the pigtails I guess. My dad used to do a lot more hairstyles for me so I guess I’d like to do those or have him do those for me again. Pigtails are quicker so he’d usually do those for me in the mornings when I had to go to school and he had to go to work.”
“Sometimes, though,” she gave a melancholic smile, “Sometimes when it was picture day or we both woke up early, or on the weekends and he thought it’d be special, he’d do my hair up more fancy. He could do any thing with it! He liked giving me braids, or waves and curls, or buns, or big things with all my hair pinned on top of my head like a movie star.”
“Dad used to call me his little star sometimes.”
She got quiet. Thinking, or indulging in nostalgia, it was unclear.
“He’d treat me like his little star too. We were each other’s family, and I guess I don’t have a mum or aunties or uncles or grandparents like other kids. No siblings or cousin either. So I guess we’re all we have.”
The day was fairly normal. Brick had spent it mostly in the small corner of woods that almost started to feel like home.
Real home was generally less sticky though
He’d gotten used to a mostly monotonous routine. He’d get up, play in the water before the sun rose too far, retreat to the forest, play with some younger boys, and maybe eat a fruit or two. Today had been much the same, though this week there had been a noticeable lack in eating.
A bush rustled, and a familiar, now dirty face greeted him.
A girl with bushy pigtails poked her head over the roughage and paused for a second upon seeing him, “I know you,” she looked him in the eyes with a vague expression, “I know you, right?”
“Yes!” He nodded, “We erm- we went to school together! Not together together I guess, we weren’t in the same class, well, actually we were in second grade but we haven’t been I should say.”
She looked him up and down for a second, “Could’ve mistaken you for one of the littluns. You’re Neil right? It’s not easy to forget your face. Recognizable is what my dad says is the right thing to say. I’m Angie.”
The sun scrapped boy nodded with an enthusiasm for any connection to the word of the past, “I’m Neil yeah. Well, my legal name is Neil Andrew Pauper, Andrew’s my dad’s name, but my parents call me Brick! I’ve met some lovely people here and I introduced myself and Brick and they call me that, so I guess I can say my friends call me Brick. Oh! Isn’t that incredible! I’d rather not be here sure but it’s incredible to have made so many friends! My mum says incredible is the right word for things like this, for when you’re so shockingly happy that you don’t know what else to say, because it means something that sounds impossible, if I remember right at least. And Angie is such a pretty name, I remember it being short of Angelica yes? Oh that’s very nice, like angels I’d bet. Lots of parents call their kids their angels but I suppose it’s literal for you since, well the name but I bet your parents love you too, I think most parents love their kids and their kids love them back. It’s sweet I think. That kind of caring for someone. I hope I have kids when I get off this island and get older.”
She blinked at him, possibly astounded by the lack of breaks in his words. Being able to say so much in one breath ought to have been some sort of medical marvel.
“Are you hungry?”
He took a second to adjust to the topic change and respond, “Oh I guess I’m always kind of hungry, but now that you mention it,” he looked up at the sun high in the sky, marking noon, and marking officially about two days since he’d last eaten anything, “I really am.”
She rearranged her position, revealing a sort of makeshift sling with meat in one hand and a large pointed stick in the other, “Good thing I ran into you then,” she fixed herself over a fallen tree, and handed him a chunk of something, “Sorry it’s a little burnt. Not the best with cooking.”
His eyes lit up when he felt it in his hands, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had meat, and he bit into it excitedly. Despite the burn, the taste was splendid, though, perhaps that feeling was from its seeming scarcity.
“I usually give food to the littluns. Jack doesn’t like them because they’re a nuisance and I get it but I still think they deserve to eat. Guess you’re not a littlun but I don’t think it matters, I hunted the damn thing and you look like you needed it so if they have a fit to pitch they can shove it”
His face was dripping with grease and sweat, and when he smiled up at her a tooth was missing, “Thank you,” he said, with a sort of sincerity most kids here had lost.
