#oc rant

let me tell you because dear lord this shit was insufferable, at first it was normal we talked about our oc’s and it was fun i asked them questions and among them was “oh you ship yourself with that character ” and they were like yes and after that they started sharing more stuff about their OC and the said character, to the point it got hella WEIRD.

when i say weird is that they would role play as their OC and say “oh oc name and character went on a date and got it on” or “oc name likes being in a mate press”

LIKE WHAT first of all ew second of all WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU UTTER THIS SENTENCE TO ME?

dawg it is so cringe i almost jumped off a building and hoped to get a quirk in my next life, if i ever Sheered the though to say this shit out in the wild id rather get publicly hanged.

also mind you they’re not even young btw they’re js a year younger than me and we both are an adult btw.

again yes i did stop engaging in this conversation but all they ever talk with me is about this stuff and i am UNCOMFORTABLE, i have talked and told them and tried to even engage in other conversations but they weren’t as responsive unless they keep sharing about their OC’s.

anyways ty for reading my rant ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

So now I have a new oc... Anyway...

This is Rick K-355 Or "Library". After going through a hectic point in his life: traveling through space, fighting in wars, and whatnot. He came back to his Beth a bit earlier than probably most Ricks, somewhere right before Morty came along.

When he lived there originally with his wife and daughter, he attempted to make money by employing himself as a sort of handyman: using his gadgets and such to fix and assist with things around people's homes. However, really only neighbors or friends utilized his services. Which meant his wife was the main breadwinner of the house. It did cause some tension, as money was tight, and science projects in their garage or being a barely successful handyman wasn't helping pay the bills. And for a time, he picked up a small job at the library. As being around books made having a job more tolerable, just as having a job where he can build and use his inventions. He was content; however, he often longed for more in his life. Though, despite this want for more than what he had, he was still grateful, and loved his small family dearly.

At some point, another Rick (not Prime) came to his home in an attempt to capture him for a reason which was never made clear, and it resulted in a fight. Library managed to fend off and kill the other Rick; however, not before Diane was badly injured in the attack. She later succumbs to her wounds, leaving Rick in a state of shock and confusion. Before then, he had no knowledge of other realities, let alone other versions of himself.

He becomes a bit distant from Beth, pouring his time into figuring out the gun which he saw the other Rick us to appear in his room. He knew it was portal travel, as he, like many other Ricks -unbeknownst to each before the first successful portal hop- had been trying to figure out. He wasn't sure where he was going to go with this gun, but he became so disgustingly obsessed with it in his grief, that it drove him into a crazed state. Perhaps he was trying to ignore his loss. Though, this shook the relationship with his daughter.

And in an action he will forever regret, he managed to get the gun working, and stepped through a portal without much thought. It happened to be on its last jump, so even if he wanted to come home right away, he couldn't... This sobered him up some, and he panicked, suddenly realizing that he had absolutely no idea how to get home.

Hectic space adventures ensue..

He went through questioning if anything mattered, given the infinity of possibilities and universes... Seeing the same wars fought for the same ridiculous reasons as they were being waged over in many realities following the same doomed paths. And he fought in a few. He even killed other versions of himself, not only to steal more portal fluid, but to see what he'd do if he were dying, or how other versions of himself reacted to being attacked by another Rick out of the blue. What did he himself look like that night.? Because to him, they didn't really exist.. They just were echoes of people he could've been, drifting through their lives in an infinite web of probabilities... And in time, he began to question if he also even existed at all...

And yet, in all this time he spent being lost, he had neglected the one thing that was still real to him: his daughter. Whom he left behind, and had long since gained the ability to get back to her. Maybe he was afraid their relationship was too damaged...

As his rambunctious time in space began to wind down, and before he finally made the jump home, he spent some time at Alcázar (Citadel-430) working in the archives. As he was growing tired of space shenanigans, and missed the complex simplicity of knowledge held between pages. Here is where he gained the moniker "Library". Even though he was an Archivist and not necessarily working in a library at the time...

When he finally does go back home, he never leaves for the infinity of possibilities again. His Beth sort of helped him ground himself in is own existence. Helped him realize that he was real, and if nothing else mattered, then at least this one thing does.

Back home, he is a librarian at the same local library he worked at while younger. Even living in the building in an upstairs home above the library. Often looking after his grandchildren when Beth and Jerry can't. Both he and Beth are trying to repair their relationship, though, Beth's feelings toward what happened are still a lot stronger and more sore, making it harder for her to forgive her father.

He is a kinder Rick, and cares about his grand babies. (Because I just need to see a Rick who actively cares for, and who isn't cruel to Morty and Summer...I'm starved for it...) And when they come to live with him on occasion, he uses the opportunity to tutor them in things they might not learn, or know yet in school. So they are somewhat ahead of the game.

He is more concerned for his grandson, however. As Morty struggles to comprehend information and retain it, often being exceeded by his sister. His speech impediment is more severe, and so he opts not to talk most of the time. And he just sort of goes along with his sister's antics. Though, he focuses easier on things that interest him, like animals and taking apart and putting together RC cars. And as for Summer, she is more outspoken than her brother, and very easily can become the lead in any group of peers, knowing how to sway the crowd. Library isn't concerned for her in any schooling environment. Rather, he is more concerned about the trouble her brain may get her in one day...

1. DO NOT harm, traumatize or kill children. Lead them away from upsetting sights and back to their cabins. Threaten or terrify teens into silence, avoiding murder if possible.

2. Adults are fair game. Tourists, hikers, real-estate agents, tax collectors, poachers, local bigots/predators, amateur true-crime enthusiasts and perverts lured to the camp via online chatrooms, etc. Even adult campers.

3. LEARN YOUR VICTIM! The best ones are out-of-towners. Be concious of targetting "important" locals.

4. Avoid victimizing pretty/popular young college girls - these get a little more police effort and press coverage when they go missing.

5. Avoid killing law enforcement, though tempting. Put down a cop/detective only if they start to uncover TOO much.

6. If possible, victims are to be lead into the Hunting Grounds (the vast wilderness stretching behind Camp Heart). This ensures victim disorientation, less potential witnesses, and easier cleanup. Trails are boobytrapped, so use to your advantage, and watch your step.

7. DO NOT be sloppy when disposing of bodies. We have a woodchipper, a deep murky lake, farm animals that will eat anything, etc. Keep our forests clean!

8. Notice something incriminating? Destroy it, plant it on a local, burn it, etc. Even if it isn't YOUR evidence, anything against your fellow councilers could lead back to you. Teamwork makes the dream work!

9. Control yourself during the day (That means YOU, Billie Prescott! ):<). You are friendly, helpful, cooperative, approachable. Have a plan, then a backup plan. Cover your face and act at night.

10. Have fun! 💘

Name choice, why "Pomelo"?

Named "Pomelo" after the fruit.

The Pomelo fruit is large on the outside, dry and subtle on the inside. They look massive and sweet, but their flavor is more muted and dry compared to oranges. Pomelo appears imposing, but he's quiet and withdrawn. His "flavor" is subtle, not showy.

Hard to peel, tough skin. You have to work to get to the fruit inside. He is emotionally closed-off and doesn't open up easily.

The fruit is rare and misunderstood... Many people confuse pomelos with grapefruit or never try them. I felt that this resonated a tad, as I wrote the character to be autistic, where a lot of misunderstandings come up or how others often overlooks autistic people. He has two younger siblings as well, all three are named after citrus fruits. As he is the oldest, he had to be named "Pomelo" after one of the ancient citrus fruits. I had a long list of symbolism as for why I picked this name specifically, but it can get rather long if I go into a rant.

Design sheet

A sheet for my little Artificer that I currently play in a campaign weekly! I did design him originally to be an alchemist, but I switched to a different subclass a short while ago, alchemy will merely be his hobby instead despite what I had written for his backstory. So I will at some point in the future maybe make him a cartographer design sheet, maybe I should do it with a winter theme in mind so I can still use both sheets?

I played this character in a past Pathfinder 1E campaign that got canceled a lot of years ago. I turned into a forever DM after I left a player group with some toxic players in there, but one of my good friends started a DnD campaign that I was invited into and I grabbed up my old little guy and did a lot of redesigning several years later!

When I first tried to make a character in just 3 days, I didn't have much of an idea back then. It was very vague and I didn't really like his simple design back then.

I became a DM myself and made an AU of the character instead, not fantasy setting but more urban in 2005, and had time to think of how I actually wanted to write him down. To design him according to how I actually wanted his personality to be like. (In the AU version he is named Pomelo Dale, instead of Pomelo Ir'Dale. This is how I differentiate the two.)

Though this image below is for the fantasy DnD setting, everything but the "mentor's scarf" is accurate to both.

Something that had a lot of importance both in the character and for the plot of my own campaign; was the fact that he is autistic. So I wanted to incorporate important parts of that visually as well.

OBS every autistic person is different. I based this around parts both of myself and other family members who are all autistic, as well as friends who are.

Big loose clothing, disliking the uncomfortable overwhelming and distracting feeling of tight and formfitting clothing. It being a sensory issue.

Always the same colors. If you have one color you really really like, why would you wear anything that isn't the color you like?

When you got shirts you really really like... That thing is going to be over-worn to oblivion, and even if it gets holes and messed up; you best believe that thing is going to get cross-stitched and sewn up to hell and back. Plus why waste money on new clothes when you can put it into things that actually matter like [insert hyper-fixation hobby]? Yes this cardigan is 12 years old, so what, there will never be a shirt as soft and perfectly oversized as this one.

Hues that preferably aren't too attention grabbing, wants to blend into the background and not be percieved.

Warm. Cozy. Knitted. Heaven. Comfortability > Aesthetics.

Feels more calm when hiding his face with a facemask or sunglasses, helps the feeling of not wanting to be percieved.

✦ [He / Him] ✦ [Human] ✦ [Ace] ✦ [150cm / 4'11'' ft] ✦ [Autistic] ✦

I could rant a bit more but I think I'll cut it off here!

[The following is copy pasted cut-out parts from the mini section of his backstory in the DnD campaign I am currently participating in]

For six centuries, the Dale bloodline has stood as an unshakable pillar of greatness. Soldiers. Knights. Bounty hunters. Guardsmen. The elite protectors of kings and nobles. These are the titles borne by the Dales, each one a testament to their unmatched prowess. To bear the name Dale is to embody a legacy of brilliance, a six-hundred-year lineage unmarred by mediocrity. In all this time, not a single Dale has failed to rise to extraordinary heights.

The Dale blood carries gifts whispered to be divine. A preternatural mastery of weaponry, a cunning mind capable of manipulating even the cleverest adversaries. Mastery of weaponry comes as naturally as breathing. To be a Dale is not simply to carry a name. It is to carry the weight of six hundred years of greatness, an unbroken chain of extraordinary warriors and champions who shaped the world in their image. And if the past is any guide, this legacy is far from over.

…At least, it was supposed to be.

From the moment Pomelo could walk, if one could even call it walking, it became painfully clear that he was… different. While his cousins were mastering swordplay and acrobatics before they could properly read, Pomelo was struggling to hold a blade at all. His grip was laughably weak, the weapon slipping from his fingers as though it were coated in oil. He seemed utterly incapable of standing upright for more than a few moments without mishap.

At the age when most Dale children could strike a bullseye blindfolded, Pomelo couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn, even if he was standing inside it. Pomelo wasn’t just less than extraordinary. Quite frankly; the boy wasn’t even average. An outright disaster. Where the Dales had always been symbols of grace and strength, he was the punchline to a cosmic joke no one dared to laugh at out loud. With every dropped blade, every missed strike and every humiliating defeat, the whispers grew louder. Could a Dale be born useless?