Favorite Character of the OC Below (IC)

SPOILAH because joosep is joosep and he's a bit of an incel?!? so there's some small sexist undertones in here.. sad day.

also whats a proper brown interaction without alcohol? there's some of that too. drink up!

this god damn dynamic makes me want to SCREAM AND CRY this is so fuckin cute. poor. poor dolores tho >:' [ vvvvv

Dolores, unfortunately, still had no idea what metal music was or how it worked. Maybe it was for the best? It was already a bit eccentric for her to be associated with strong, muscular men... Oh, and criminals. Metal music might've just pushed it over the edge.

But at the end of the day, she was a simple person with simple needs, and she was more than willing to help anyone who had the (mis)fortune to be stuck in the snow and need some form of help recuperating from the utter hellscape that was Dolores's mountainside residence during a snowstorm- Not that the house itself was terrible by any means! It was just, as always, incredibly jarring when one got to relax in a cottage, with an old woman with her dog, while a snowstorm could be heard screaming outside. That's all!

Speaking of dogs, Dolores couldn't help but coo over a certain slobbering Rottweiler before looking up at his owner and remarking, "Well, I don't have anything spicy up here since peppers tend to be, well, rather expensive, but..." She chuffed while trying not to implode over the fact that the dog was currently leaving trails of saliva literally all over the place. Hopefully the wood wouldn't rot any faster after absorbing all that gunk? Of course, she tried not to think too hard about it, instead humming, "... I have soup, you know! And, well, hot chocolate... Nothing too luxurious or gourmet, but it's good at filling up the stomach and keeping it warm, at the very least- Wait! I can get you some! Just give me a second!"

And with that, the older woman was off! The seemingly labyrinthine assortment of cabinets in the kitchen seemed to do little to help her case, though she really had no problem as she just... Managed to pick the cabinet that contained the powdered ingredients. Coffee grounds, salts, hot chocolate powder... You name it. She coughed into her sleeve as a cloud of indiscernibly colored powder came flying out as soon as the door was opened, but it wasn't long before she took out a few bags nonetheless.

"How's this?" she called out while holding up some bags. Though she still faced away from the youth, it was clear that Dolores was utterly beaming. Apparently, the brand of powdered hot chocolate wasn't obscenely terrible, and that was good enough for her; the elder had found some in the bargain bin at one of the grocery stores anyhow- "If I'm remembering the instructions correctly, all you need to do is add water, then stir for a bit! Then it's almost like that method of melting chocolate and mixing it with milk!" Finally, she turned to face him, regardless of whether he took up the bags or not.

"It's a bit expensive, though," the older woman babbled more sheepishly after closing the cabinet door, "so I can't really go for that option. And, uh..." Dolores's gaze drifted over to the Rottweiler before she offered both guests a sheepish grin. (Yes, the dog counted as its own entity in Dolores's eyes.) "... Maybe you should put your dog away so that it doesn't accidentally eat the cocoa powder," she suggested meekly, "You... You know that chocolate is poisonous to dogs, right?" She, nonetheless, gave the bags of powdered hot chocolate a shake... Kind of like dog treats. Huh-

Shit. That shouldn't have been done. Regret started to prick at Dolores's skin, but maybe that was just the usual feeling of guilt weighing down upon her yet again... Right?

   - dw about the length dude!! this is still really cute and I'd die for Dolores and Bijou's dynamic ahhhhhhhh- 🥺🥺🥺🥺

"Ohh, I've heard of you. You're... Prize, right? Prince Prize?" Roy pointed lightly before smiling. "I'm En-- But, uh, I'm still not used to the name... or the job. Call me Roy instead. I've heard a lot about you. I've heard about your kingdom, too. It must be amazing, being on a moon? That's crazy, man." He paused to take a drink, using the time to observe the fellow royal. Prize looked very innocent, maybe even a little flighty, but he could tell by the look in his eyes that he was no pushover. Also, those horns and ears were trippy to see. Then again, he was sure his white hair had the same effect on people.
"You know, I have to admit, I'm pretty jealous of you. You've been able to talk down all sorts of threats, and you've managed to get a lot of people on your side. I wish I could do that, but it feels like for every person I make happy, five more get upset. Do you have any tips?"

"Ah, ma cherie, remember what it was I told you, oui? You must love yourself first before you share the love! Do not worry about which one he will love, if he loves you, even the garbage will be the scent of dreams to him, ah~!"
Looking around, Valentine perked and beckoned Zinnia to follow him to one corner, where he pulled a box down from the shelf. "Ah, ma cherie, do you hear that? This perfume, she whispers; she is calling your name! I have never heard her beckon to anyone before!" He removed the lid to reveal a crystal, magenta bottle, with a heart at the top. "Courage, she whispers. Love, she promises. Ah, ma cherie, this is the one! Come, hold your hand out to me." Once done, he removed the bottle and pressed down at the top, where it sprayed the perfume onto her wrist. "Rub it along your other wrist, oui. Ah, do you smell that, mon amour? The scent, it is so delightful! And it clings to you so jealously! If only your love were here to smell it now, ah~!"

"I don't know why, but going through all this makes me feel sort of...I don't know how to describe it," Zinnia squeaked, rubbing the tips of her fingers together before turning to look at the cupid. She tapped her finger against her bottom lip, heaving out an exhale while she glanced around the shop. She lifted up one of the perfumes on display, raising an eyebrow while she examined the label.

"Uhm, do you think he'd like this one?" Zinnia inquired before presenting the label to Valentine. She fluttered her eyelashes, allowing her lips to smack before she pulled it back towards herself.

"Mmh, you're right. I need something that he'd absolutely adore. Can you show me something else, sir?" After she paused to watch the elder party, Zinnia followed Valentine, wringing her fingers before she heaved out an exhale.

"Ooh, first, how do these things work, by the way?"

"No, I don't think you should fucking eat that," gently chided Rochester to the screaming Persian just a foot away from her. She waved a hand at the brown tabby before huffing, "Besides, cats like you should be eating meat-" The older woman broke herself off as she suddenly zipped open the bag yet again - when she had just closed it a minute earlier - just to file through its contents.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit," she cursed to herself while attempting to find something, anything, that was remotely good for a cat. Fuck, it didn't even have to be food at this point. It could just be a cat toy, a canister of catnip that she happened to have on hand at the time. Anything! Just not... The partially peeled orange that she currently left out on the table for the taking, as she swore that she could hear some scratching and scuffling in the background as if the feline was attempting to grab her attention through more direct means. "Where the actual fuck is the food when you need it!? I should've told Beatrice to secure that in case I visited here again..."

Which... Now that she thought about it: why the fuck was she here in the first place? There weren't any good sales going on in the nearby store... Or something like that- Her train of thought, alas, ended up being completely derailed when she felt something warm against her.

Peering over in the direction of that warmth, Rochester just heaved out a sigh and lifted the Persian in the air, with her citrus-scented hands and all, as she grunted to him, "For fuck's sake, you cat... You are not going to get anything if you keep vying for my attention like that-" Wait a fucking second. She paused, the irritation seemingly evaporating in favor of just... Pure, raw confusion. As the tabby dangled awkwardly in her hands, the elder just fucking stood there and blinked. Wait one fucking second... And then it dawned upon her. Hard.

I'm giving this bitch attention regardless of whether I give him the fruit or not, huh!?

Her brows shot up into the air before she suddenly stooped down to place the cat back on the floor, then cursed to herself, "Are you fucking kidding me!? I am one damn fool, huh! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-" Rochester sucked in a breath after standing up to her full height and running her fingers through her hair. Well then! All of this was going to culminate in a rather awkward result, huh? The partially peeled orange, the screaming cat, the existential crisis... Rochester's eyes remained widened even as she focused on the former, then resumed chipping away at the peel with her fingernail.

"Do not tell the girl I even did this," she grunted to the cat, "but I swear... I swear to all the damn skies that I will get food for you by the next time I visit, okay?" She had mostly peeled the orange when she heard a familiar knock on the door, prompting the elder to perk up and place the orange back on the countertop. Hopefully that wasn't a foolish thing to be doing? "Just give me a moment - I think my wife might be here," the older woman mumbled under her breath before stepping away to the door. And... Thank the skies for that. Maybe.

   - oh god my response is late. anyways.... bless you for choosing an Oleander Leaves character because I need to revive that lore at some point fsrgdgfrbdgft- 😔😔😔😔

THAT ASIDES..... this is a cute response ty?? and dw about the length!! I just like writing a lot, but I don't mind if I get short responses!! Svetlana would appreciate the attention even if she's..... a bit of a brat at heart.....

(sorry its so short, aaa i always want to do this kind of forum game and then remember that im bad at writing long responses dfhdfsjkf)

"You seem pretty cool," Thothlin said, making sure to keep his second set of eyes shut. Didn't want to freak out those bug-hating people (even if it felt a big rude to call himself a bug). He had shifted into his smaller form, as to freak her out less, but his magic wasn't strong enough to maintain the form while also using the magic that concealed his more 'inhuman' characteristics. "The guy I get to bring me food and shit brought bread a little bit ago, I don't know what the types of bread are but I'm not a huge fan. I can go get it for you if you want?"

"I heard you're good at making clothes, I make my own too. It's not... fabric. Obviously. What do I look like- someone who wears cloth? It's leaves and shit. It's probably not all too similar to make as your kinda clothing, but honestly I'm just down to hear how you make it. And, uh..." He scratched his arm, "If you'd be interesting in making some for a friend of mine? I have a stack of rupee's back at my cave, don't really have much use for them. Just name the price, I probably have enough."

Unfortunately, Brown was an eccentric fossil collector (and potential murderess) who just so happened to absolutely adore cats, and... The colorpoint feline in front of her was no exception as she immediately crouched down and made a little "pspspspsps" noise at him in an attempt to coax him closer. Of course she did. Ugh.

"Aren't you an adorable little thing?" she cooed to him while tapping her fingers against the concrete. Gross! That shit was probably dirty, or at least left unwashed for some time. Who knows what was on there!? Normally, Brown would've winced at least a bit from letting her fingers touch such filth, but... Hey. Cats. She instead seemed completely calm, or at least entranced by the feline's presence, as she continued to coo in baby talk, "I didn't expect to see you around here, snookums... But I did bring some food along for you to take, mm? Some cat treats? You want that?"

Brown did, indeed, have cat treats, but... The middle-aged woman stalled, instead remaining silent for a moment or so just to scrutinize his reaction more carefully. Though the spiked collar around the feline's neck suggested that he had an owner, Brown was nonetheless aware that a cat wasn't necessarily tame, or used to a human presence, just because it had an owner. The thought of a certain cream bobtail kitten reminded her of that a biiiiit too well, as she tensed her arm and promptly placed her hand in her pocket with apparently no warning beforehand.

A few seconds later, the aristocrat took out the bag of cat treats, signaled with a slight rattle of the contents inside oft he plastic baggie, as she hummed, "I have plenty more of these if you find these appetizing... But you must be starving, yes? Yes, snookums?" Please don't fucking call him that like it's his real name... "Isn't that right?" Brown cooed before opening the bag, then extracting out a single, fish-shaped treat. The air was quickly filled with a subtle fishy scent, which was (at the very least) not false advertising because the packaging did mention that it was supposed to have a distinctive fishy flavor.

Hopefully the cat liked seafood!

Her nose just scrunching up a tiiiiiiiny bit thanks to the aforementioned fishy scent, Brown then extended a treat out for the feline to take, attempting to convince him to accept the gesture by murmuring in a high-pitched voice, "I know that this is probably new, snookums, but I reckon for a damn fact that it is better than whatever shit you might be eating in the dumpsters... Like plastic... Or maybe fucking compost... Trust me on that. Your owner might not be very happy if they found out that you were eating dumpster shit now, mm?" She innocently fluttered her eyelashes while taking a step forward, a surprisingly smooth smile on her face while she regarded the feline... For better or for worse-

Actually! It was probably for the worst... Considering that Brown was probably going to scoop up the feline in her arms and give him a bunch of kisses as soon as he drew close enough to her for him to grab. Don't give her that privilege. Stay very, very far away from her - even if offered food (or anything remotely resembling an amenity).

SDYFHJGVRYFVJHRFUBV. THE MEME IS SENDING ME BLESS YOU RUSTY TWIN. ANYWAYS. Smith can get more friends, as a treat.

Berkorban, admittedly fed up with this 'no using a car to drive to this woman's hospice, walk instead' bullshit, knocked on the door with a handful of .. nature picture books? Which, honestly, was probably the most off putting image ever. A satanic, DSBM man holding a shit ton of National Geographic kid friendly magazines, (with, the educational tidbits under the pictures aswell!), .. for an old woman who was recently lobotomized! Sounds like something out of a Quentin Tarantino film if you ask me. Jesus fuck.

"Hello, Smith," With permission (hopefully?), Berk gently opened the hospice door and slowly made his way towards the poor woman, lowering his voice to speak to her; "One would think that these .. mainstream magazines that the hospice has to offer would get .. rather old, yes?" He smiled, gently placing the nature books down next to Smith. He sniffed and furrowed his eyebrows, "I, ah, remember you telling me you quite enjoyed these silly picture books. I made sure these were the ones with the captions underneath each image, so every time you stumble upon a wildcat viscously mauling its prey, or something of the sort, you get to learn why." It smells a little edgy in here?

"But, I digress, I hope your time in here is cozy nonetheless. I would hope that they're treating you well, not many get the privilege of getting their own hospice, hm?" He cackled lightly and leaned himself against the patterned wall.

Thankfully, Berkorban neglected to give the woman any ... mystery meat on a paper plate this day. But honestly, were the National Geographics much better? Probably not. This man knew very little.
Picking up the book that was on top of the stack, which, honestly consisted of about three or four hefty books, he flipped through the pages nonchalantly and quickly scanned each image that he went past. "I really do hope you find these entertaining, I used to read through these when I was a boy. They really gave me a closer glimpse at the wildlife from where I hail from, specifically the carnivores. Such deadly predators live in Scandinavia, did you know? But I digress," the 'musician' set the book back down with the rest.

"Has your husband been visiting you? You told me last time he released your .. ah, what was it? Ferret? Out into the wild, I don't know if I can get you another one of those, honestly. It just seems like something more would be nice to keep you company in here, maybe a goldfish? Do you like bettas?" He admittedly smiled a bit, as if a measly fish you could buy for as low as two American dollars would be able to keep her company more than Cashmere probably did.

"I'm joking, of course. But -- you do need a bit more aside from your assistants, .. don't you?"

pssst, np, most developed ocs are in the stories folder!

"YOU!"
Mr. TV practically ran across the street to meet the young, nervous man, grabbing him by the shoulders to keep him still. He went quiet, observing him, taking him in. Then he seemed to relax.
"There's a story written all over your face, kid," he said, not letting go. "Lots of rewrites, lots of changes. But each story is helluva ride, and it's all masked up with that innocent face. Kid, you're a born actor. You've got all these conflicted feelings inside you, I know. I've been there. And I'll be the first to tell you that therapy won't do you much good. You want to know what will? The silver screen, my friend. Take those emotions and funnel them! Control them! Use them to shape the roles you play, lend your pain and happiness to the characters! You've got the potential, I SEE it!"
He tightened his grip and leaned in closer until Daniel's face was reflected off his screen. "Even if you say no, I'm not giving up. You've got Oscar written all over you, kid." He ignored Daniel's real name. "I'll stop by everyday if that's what it takes to get you to sign a contract with me!"

“Listen, listen,” Roswell said as he leaned over the table. His gaze was dull and his breath smelled like bourbon. His shaking hand reached for his friend’s arm and gave it a thigh squeeze.
“Yer me best friend, really,” he said. His smile grew into an almost barbaric-display.
“Me bést.” Roswell then patted the arm before letting go. His hand reached for his chicken-nuggets but it was hard getting a grip on those finger-licking good pieces of meat as his entire hand shook.
He’d drank and ate too much. In his mind, Roswell was already saying goodbye to this world as he stuffed another nugget in his mouth. Oh this cruel world that háted him. Void! It had tormented him, poor ol' Roswell, with such hardships in his life!
He stared at En for a long time. Chewing the cheap-piece of meat as his eye started to... Sting.

He sniffed. Rubbed his nose with his sleeve, “yer me only friend as well. Loike, réal, _real friend,” the drunken thief confessed. He dropped the nugget he’d snatched from En.
“Dis world is unfair! Don’t yer think!? Good youn’ man loike us, we get punished for sumethin’ we ‘aven’t done,” Roswell chattered on.
“Oi’ve never done anythin’ wrong in me loive,” the witch-thief said. As he pressed his hand on his chest. He eyed En for his reassurence
Then shook his head and took another swing of his drink.
 “And now our kids gettin’ old, gettin into relationships! Lovers!” Roswell almost spat out the last word. He quickly shot En a gaze that thicked his disbelieve.
“Whaat happens if they get kids En?” he asked about their daughters. Forgetting the fact that his daughter was gay. "What would 'appen to us?"

“Are we gettin’ old me friend? Me only friend?” he asked. A nugget was half-tucked between his mustache and teeth. (It wobbled funny as he spoke by the way.)
“Void.. We are,” he said. The half-nugget dropped out of his mouth.  Drunkenly he shook his head.
“Oi’d never expected to git old-” he confessed lightly under his breath. “But.. At least we get ol’ together roi? We keep each other’s spirits up and youn' and so forth.”
Roswell rubbed his greasy hands through his already greasy hair. “At least we’re gettin’ ol’ together,” he repeated. Softer and mostly to himself. 

--

Roswell uses Brown's aristocratic money (and thus by extension tax-money) to buy cigars. I hate him

mom said it’s my turn to make the long furry cringe reply again (/j). dw about any sensitive content, this is just…. long. it shows.

@ NP: if you choose Brown for your response, know that Brown is meant to be human, so check out her Human tab if considering her appearance!! I’m just posting as her urban legend tab in case it inspires your response!!

I’ll also try my best to do a follow-up for NP if I have the time!!

"Mr. Pourife! Pleasure." Rashmi descends the step ladder she'd been working on to shake the older man's hand. "I've heard good things about you. And I mean, your work's not even anywhere near my field, which goes to tell you something, huh? Also means I don't necessarily follow all of it as well as I wish I could, but hey, your reputation speaks for itself." She pauses, then tips her head in acknowledgement. "Guess not that I've heard much about you, I mean. More just your work actually. It, uh, sounds nice." She rubs the back of her neck and laughs. "My city's a very two-high-schools kinda city, and miles of desert between the next city over, which, uh, means half the people I work with know who I am. It's..." She gestures at him with a smile. "What I mean to say is I guess I wish I was a bit more like you. Real admirable.

"And, uh, gotta say. Love the look." She nods at him, and despite sitting on the far casual end of business casual herself in contrast, seems genuine!

_{is this a what does your oc envy about the oc above you or what does the oc like about the oc above you a bit more than a favorite character? perhaps! and yet!}

_{Edit: do u ever post a reply then think oh this could have been way more fun with other characters I want to redo. but then it's past midnight and you simply could not do that now. sorry maurice maybe another day LOL}

IN WHICH MAGNI J BOTTOM TEXT

in which korrina is bi-curious.

"I used to be quite fond of romance in my young age." Korrina remarked to the pirate, as she traced her fingertip around the edge of a teacup, "And with age, it seems myself and everyone else around me finds less appeal in such a thing -- but not you, is that right?"

Her smile soft and sweet, she scooped her cup back into her hands and leaned back. "It's quite nice to have someone interested in such a thing, even if they are a known philanderer, and if not for rather obvious circumstances, I'd say you and I would make a good few rounds in the city." That's not very heterosexual of you. "Wouldn't it be nice, though? Sauveterre can be so boring, miss... madame? I'm not sure which would be appropriate."

Goodness knows she didn't care, either. 'Miss', however, was one syllable shorter, and therefore preferable for that reason alone.

"That asides," she said, "Your confidence is also new, which might be a bit more of a surprise. In Sauveterre, women don't use their heads. They're all a bunch of frightened hens, cooped up in a corner, but at the same time, I'm sure even someone like you would be appealing to them, like a child finding a shiny new toy." Then, for a second, she laughed, "I promise I'm not too much like them! Your head will be empty at the end of your time with them, but I... Even despite my integration into that hellish society, I like to think I'm an intelligent person, just as you are an intelligent person. I hope that you agree. The least I'd want is to make a fool of myself in front of you."

"I suppose what I want to say is that I might kill to have someone like you at my side." Finally, she brought the cup to her lips, "Someone reliable, someone actually likable. Miss, my heart might not take it. Your company might be so light on it that it'll float away out of my body."

maybe i will follow-up ?