#oc woes

[tech-deck]

"This is my precious OC" *straps them to a rocket* "I will cherish them forever" *Sets a countdown* "They will live happily with all the blorbos they could ever love" *Ignites the boosters* "I will hold them forever in my heart" *Jettisons the rocket to the middle of nowhere in the universe never to be seen again* "Wow, I sure do love my OC's!"

[vimse]

Having an OC is so wild sometimes I’ll be like ”look! this is my child, my bb, I love them so much” and then the next moment I’m plotting their complete erasure from the internet as I can’t stand the thought of even looking at them

[dapperpossum]

"You're not a corpse yet. Stop lying about." Val bears bloodied teeth in a grin just to watch the way Astarion’s eyes narrow onto them. Unsurprisingly, the Vampire is already shoving him back toward the Matriarch - both, Val assumes, to put someone between himself and the danger, and because the Elf’s not always that bad of a partner to have in a fight. Laughing, Val goes, magic hot in his palm

A little soft post brawl after care.

Today had not been their best. 

Down in the gloom of the Withering Depths, Val had felt lassitude creep suddenly upon him, out of place and wrong. He had tasted it in the blood on his tongue as his back hit hard rock and in the burning scream of his forearm where the spider had bitten. 

For a moment, with the ringing in his ears and the darkening of his vision, sleep had seemed only logical. But death is a mimic, revealed by adrenaline and the shock of being yanked to his feet.

Lae’zel slaps him once across the face, rooting him back into his own body. Val nods, shaking off the numbness, and shudders at the hard clamp of a hand on the nape of his neck.

It’s the vampire, as it always is. Strange, that a grip has grown so familiar. They feel like strangers still, even with all the brawls and travel. But the touch - collared to the back of his neck - that he knows.

Through the vertigo of being pulled around, Val glances Astarion’s tight jaw and scowl.

"You're not a corpse yet. Stop lying about."

Val bears bloodied teeth in a grin just to watch the way Astarion’s eyes narrow onto them.

Unsurprisingly, the Vampire is already shoving him back toward the Matriarch - both, Val assumes, to put someone between himself and the danger, and because the Elf’s not always that bad of a partner to have in a fight.

Laughing, Val goes, magic hot in his palm

Now, hours later, with the night dark around them, Val is once again tired.

The bone deep fatigue of someone who took too many hits in too proximal a time.

He groans, hissing at the stretch of skin reopening barely closed wounds. Damn, he’s sore.

But clean.

Thankfully, blessedly clean. Venom and gore and web had seemed embedded in his skin, but he’d scrubbed until it was gone. Let Shadowheart slap a few stitches on and rubbed salve himself on the bruises he could reach.

His most threadbare shirt is almost light enough to not irritate his injuries, and his leggings are soft with wear. It’s the most comfortable he’s going to get out in the open wilderness, and he’s grateful to have found enough allies to make it possible to do so.

Still, despite his best efforts, Val is sweating by the time he flattens on his back across his pallet. He’s downed a healing tonic, knows he’ll be functional tomorrow, but for now, all he wants is sleep.

A shadow blocks the fire.

With a groan, he hitches onto his elbows and tilts his face back. 

Astarion, like all of them, had taken his fair share of hits. The cuts and bruises are stark against the pallor of his face. Val can’t help his chuckle.

“You look as bad as I feel.”

“Yes, well. I’m sure you can imagine how awful you look, then.”

Even sneering, though, Astarion looks worn. Broad shoulders bowed down in exhaustion, face gaunt and drawn. Val thinks about the perfunctory dinner he’d eaten without tasting and how even that had taken too much. He can’t imagine having to hunt.

Humming, he shifts, getting comfortable, and tilts his neck.

“Come on, then.”

Astarion looks surprised, a testament to how badly off he is, but Val doesn’t have the reserves to tease him for it. Instead, he lets the other man brood in silence above him, lulled by the warmth of the fire nearby.

“I didn’t think you’d have any to spare.”

“No? Then why are you here?” Sighing, Val finds he’s too tired to re-open his eyes, let alone engage in verbal byplay, “I have enough, Astarion. Take it or leave it, but let me sleep either way.”

Silence responds to him, broken only by the occasional pop of the fire and the soft, distant rustle of the others settling in. It goes on long enough that Val begins to relax, sure Astarion has declined.

A hand on his hip startles him from the cusp of sleep. A warm, low murmur presses into the pulse at his throat.

“You’re an idiot.”

Snorting, Val shifts enough to hook a tired arm around the other’s shoulder. He can’t muster the energy for more, but Astarion doesn’t seem to need it anyway, crowding his pallet with ease, a warm, heavy line pressing him down.

Exhale soft, Val tips his chin up, lets teeth skim his carotid.

He’s grateful for the fatigue that quells the clench of arousal his body wants to respond with. He’s not ready to examine its growing frequency around the Vampire, nor the singing thrum of his blood to the weight bearing him down.

Instead, his tired fingers flex, soft hair curled through his knuckles, and his breath evens towards true rest. 

The sting of fangs sees him off to slumber.

–

Val begins to wake when the fire is out and everything is still. He can already feel his muscles have gone stiff, his bruises throbbing dully.

Despite that, he’s comfortable, rising only from the languid pool of sleep enough to register warm breath rustling his hair. Distantly, he’s surprised to find Astarion still in the pallet, recognizes in a far away haze that his leg is thrown over the vampire’s hips, that it’s Astarion’s hand tucked around his thigh and Astarion’s throat his face is buried in.

It’s enough to startle him closer to full coherency. Pulling back, even the small amount he does, makes all of his sore points protest, and his pinching nerves just as quickly stop him.

As does the sudden squeeze to his thigh and the way the same hand slides up to grip the back of his neck, surprisingly firm. It pushes him back down towards sleep, unlocks his muscles so that he resettles with a sigh, tension purged. 

–

In the morning, with the sun bright, Val wakes alone in his bedroll. Dreams catch at his half aware brain - a palm splayed on his back, skin to skin, the scent of blood. A grip on his neck, ribs rising and falling against his own. 

Rubbing roughly at his face, Val forces the phantom images away. He rises and begins the day.

[1stunseeliefaelass]

Headcanon Voicing Woes

Everytime I see people making voice headcanons for their OCs or characters with no canon voice acting, it makes me wanna do something like that for Faye and other characters of mine in my Fallout fic.

Problem is...Faye is so tightly tied to me and my identity, that finding one has been hard. Oklahoman actresses aren't common place, and usually don't have roles where an accent is going back and forth between southern and midwestern. Which is what happens to me and Faye. I HAVE LOCKED MYSELF IN A CORNER WITH THIS OC, GAH!

I even tried singers man, Reba McEntire has her tv show and is hilarious in it. Yet she is full on southern with her accent. Carrie Underwood was pretty close but man all I got are interviews in that case.

I'd use my damn self, but it feels conceited kind of. Even if Faye is very self inserty on my part as much as I differentiate her from me and try to give her more life beyond myself.

[the-little-moment]

Finally found out who the random fashion model was that inspired the appearance of my Bad Batch OC, Senna. She's an Indian model and minor actress. I've been going off of a few grainy Pinterest pictures from a fashion designer's website for years now, tried a few times to identify her and never could. Now I can see her Instagram and she's the perfect age! She has gorgeous long hair just like I wrote Sen having! She!

Reminds me so much of my sister-in-law I might have to rethink using her as a face-claim cause it's weirding me out. 😩😩😩

[adorableanimus]

bro. i had zodiac themed characters before i read homestuck... now its just like.... i didnt know karkat was a female and worked at a fish and chips......BECAUSE THATS MY GIRL!!!!!! FUCKKKKK

[homemade-clones]

Creating a clone oc should come with a label warning. No one tells you that if you create just one, when you less expect they will give you the saddest tooka eyes, asking where are their batch mates. And then boom, you have a whole squad.

Same thing will happen if you create a squad out of the bat. Now it's all of them asking where is their battalion, where's their Jedi general (and then where's said general's padawan).

[sanctuary-angel]

Aww, I post a reader-esq tag (OC is reader), and they always get more traction than normal OC stuff 😭💔 Pleeeeeease give third-person a chance. Reader fics are just disguised OCs anyway.