#oc: victor

[ghoul--doodle]

I have a horrendous headache but I got coursework to do so I can’t worry abt that rn

Here’s a cowgirl

[wolkentage]

When I saw this template posted by @thesimstree I just had to do it :D I had a hard time deciding between Nico and Darren for the cinnamon, but eventually went with the chicken soup for Nico since I mentioned in a previous asks that he's obsessed with his grandma's homecooked chicken soup!

[setmeatopthepyre]

☎️☎️🐧🐧💔💔 (listen i love me a good abby and tommy backstory)

some abbytommy backstory (but without abby rn) for you!

☎️ - tommy meets abby

"So there's something I've been dyin' to ask all shift," Sal says after he checks surreptitiously over his shoulder and then turns fully towards Tommy.

Tommy glances up from where he's lacing up his shoes. "What's that?"

"The chick who dropped you off this morning. Who's she?"

-

🐧 - antarct-fic

"Oh." Something uncomfortable twists in his gut and he sputters, "I'm uh, not really-- I'm not--"

She leans back, pale eyebrows inching up towards the edge of her bandana. "Well I'm sorry, kid. I coulda sworn last night you spent all of three beers waxing poetic about your helo guy."

Buck feels his face flush. "He's not really mine--"

-

💔 - the ex / victor

“So how do you two know each other?” Tommy asks.

Immediately, Emmerson's eyes shoot to Victor with the kind of laser-focused intensity that could slice clean through diamonds. There's definitely a story there, one that he clearly doesn't want to tell.

Vic, however, seems wholly immune to Emmerson's attempts to burn him to a crisp or beam thoughts into his mind. He just grins that easy grin of his and says, “Oh come on, you trust Tommy, right?”

The look he then directs at Tommy is a different kind of intense, like he's studying him like a bug under a magnifying glass. It makes the back of his neck prickle. Vic tilts his head a little before saying, “He looks like a guy who can keep a secret.”

-

[make me write]

[sagesparrow394]

Anyway to celebrate the new Wonderlust episode, I decided to take an OC of mine and imagine them in the universe of Wonderlust!

Despite being younger than Troy, Victor is two years ahead of him at the college due to Troy being held back so many times (Victor is so incredibly embarrassed by the fact his crush is a 25 year old freshman)

[krokaxe]

OC Kiss Week 24: "Almost." • Victor and @koilarist's Vivica

[sunnysidearts]

All Aboard!!!!

It's Team Rail pt 2! With Admins Victor and Elesa along with Depot Agents Xenon and Curtis!

Xenon [Left]: Ze/Zyr | Curtis [Right]: She/Her

[sweetmage]

Click for full res! ✨️

Some doodles of my fan kids! 🥰 i haven't drawn in a bit so it was nice to scribble again.

Victor (m!Handers chuld) around the time of DA4 when he's nineteen and And Edan (my HoF) and his adopted daughter Eddi 💖

[garbogod]

killing mother in my mind

[werefeathers]

i'm curious about yours as well! what emojis would your OCs (any of them, fl or not) use the most ..

ok. stick with me. this list is a long one

flondon ocs! i have a few currently..

mildred - 😟 is a pretty safe bet for her. lol daffodil - i feel like she'd use emojis like 😅🤣😊. you know the ones vermin - 🐀 for sure. they use this emoji like no other emoji exists. post-canon vermin is also beginning to become a big fan of bug emojis and other animals

and some ocs from my originals, starting off with replicant.exe:

victor - 🗿💀🗣️ HUUUUUGEE 🗿 fan. he uses this shit at literally anything. he'd be hell to text if he used slightly more emojis. cole - 💗💝👍 thinks 💝 is adorable but definitely uses 💗 in some capacity because of twitter

quintessence (i NEED to talk about this one more.)

sage - 👍❤️🙏 very pragmatic emoji usage going on here. texts like your grandma. i imagine it starts using 🌕 and 🐺 a lot post-canon to convey ideas about its lycanthropy persephone - 🥰🎉💗 would rather die brutally than miss an opportunity to include an emoji with supportive connotations in a message ebony (for lack of a new name) - dad texting style. exclusively uses 👍.

[lycosiday]

Victor

[setmeatopthepyre]

⚙️⚙️⚙️ ooooooh

thank you for your patience! here's some dead probie saga. set after this and this

-

⚙️ - tommy begins

It’s seventeen days since it happened, eleven days since the funeral, eight days since he’s returned to work, when Tommy’s phone buzzes. It makes him pause, makes him glance around the half-darkened fire station’s loft as though the phone on the table could be anyone but his own.

He puts down the Classic Cars magazine he’d been attempting to seek distraction in. Hesitates.

The clock on the wall tells him it’s nearly 2 AM. There’s no way Abby’s texting him. For one, she’d call if she needed anything, and besides, she isn’t on shift, and she knows he is, so she should be sound asleep by now.

The phone buzzes again. Tommy still doesn’t move. He’s not sure why. Another buzz.

From the kitchen, Nowak turns to glance at him.

He grabs his phone.

Three new messages. From: Vic ;)

For a moment he’s at the funeral again and there is Victor, dark eyes, blotchy skin, strong, slender hands tugging at just-too-short suit sleeves. A glance so full of raw grief that Tommy wants to look away but can’t. Wants to hold him tight but can’t. Wants to run back into that burning building but can’t.

He opens the text thread.

Vic ;) [01:48]: I almost texted him so many times Vic ;) [01:48]: keep thinking he’ll walk through the door Vic ;) [01:49]: sorry ur probably asleep

Tommy swallows hard. Presses his lips together. Turns in his seat so that Nowak can’t see his face and glances up at the ceiling for a long moment until his eyes stop burning. Types out a response before he can think about it.

Me [01:50]: I’m not. I’m on shift

Victor doesn’t send anything else and Tommy could leave it, put his phone away again, but his thumbs hover over the buttons anyway.

Me [01:54]: I keep expecting him to walk into the station or be behind me on a ladder

It feels like pressing on a bruise. It feels like letting out the blood beneath a nail.

Vic ;) [01:52]: what time do u get off?

-

[make me write]

[dayundying]

Faes love her, dentists hate her

[jestery-lemon-zest]

oh wow those are sum freaky guys i sure hope they dont murder me

ocs are lacy (rat lady) and victor (the ghost)

rb dont just like!

[ghoul--doodle]

I've known Victor for 7 seconds but I already love him <33

Thank you!! Here’s another Victor for you

[sweetmage]

for anders, garrett, and victor: anger born of worry from your bthb card, or cooking together from the domestic prompts? either or, or both >:)

HI!!!! Thank you so much for the prompts, I did both :D I was really excited for this one 💗

@dadrunkwriting

Tags: Fankid, no children harmed, house fire, Anders trauma, Anders/Hawke fighting, 3rd person pov, past tense, fugitives ending, hurt/comfort, making up, implied trans male Hawke

Summary: After waking up to smoke from a house fire, Anders and Hawke frantically searched for their son in the blaze, at each other's throats in their panic. Something about this situation felt familiar to Anders, like he'd been on the other side before...

The sun had barely begun its ascent when an odd smell reached Anders' nose, rousing him from a dead sleep. He rolled over to bury his face against Hawke's side, wondering why he wasn't holding him, then slowly opened his eyes, blinking back the grogginess... and the sting.

"Smoke," Hawke said quickly, already bolt upright and alert.

They were both out of bed in a flash, scrambling to gather their robes, boots, and staves, before Hawke threw open the bedroom door and the smell turned to a thick fog.

They must have forgotten to put out the hearth that night because that seemed to be what set their small sitting room ablaze.

"Where's Victor?" Anders spoke of their boy, only seven, who should be sleeping in the bedroom just across the hall.

"Get the cats, I'll grab him," Hawke replied, voice low and steady despite the panic evident on his face.

"Be quick," he urged and took a deep breath, rushing down the hall, grabbing two kittens, and tucking them into his robes. They were young and didn't have a clue what was going on, so he couldn't trust that they wouldn't run off and get themselves into danger.

He clicked his tongue for Ser Pounce-a-lot, trying to draw the old boy out. "Here boy, come on, Pounce." Thankfully, he skidded to Anders' side quickly, feareless as ever.

Anders rushed them all, out, coughing as the fresh air hit his lungs. He let the kittens down into the grass then turned back to the house when he realized Hawke hadn't yet returned.

"Love? Vic?" He called into the house, stepping back inside as the smoke poured out.

Hawke was empty-handed in the living room, eyes wide and wild. "He wasn't in his room," he said, voice frantic. "I checked everywhere. He's not here, I can't—"

"Stay calm," Anders instructed, though he himself felt anything but. "Where have you checked?"

"Everywhere," he insisted, a tremble in his hands. "His room, our room, the washroom, the pantry— we're wasting time!"

"It's not wasting time if it keeps us from panicking and running headfirst into the blaze," Anders snapped.

"What in the Void else are we supposed to do? Does 'I checked everywhere' not speak for itself?" Hawke shot back, still scrambling around.

"Clearly you didn't or he'd be here," Anders argued back, feeling his magic swell, his skin grow hot.

"You don't think I'm trying?!"

"I think you're not thinking," Anders snapped, trying not to lose his head as well.

He whirled on him, furious. "Don't you fucking start with me!" He shoved him out of the way to check beneath the tables.

Anders got away from him quickly, this was not the time to be getting into it. Though he claimed to have checked everywhere, Anders had to be certain with his own eyes. Though the flames had spread and now licked at the hallway, he rushed ahead to brave them.

"Stop, what are you doing?" Hawke cried, rushing after him, but Anders did not relent. "Are you mad?"

"I thought that's what we were doing," he replied through clenched teeth, not sparing a glance back at him.

Hawke grabbed his arm, trying to drag him back, but Anders was quicker, ripping his arm from his grip. The flames lapped at the end of his coat so he shed it quickly, letting it fall behind him as he rushed back into Victor's room and shut the door behind him.

The bed had been overturned and the wardrobe upended, Hawke hadn't been lying. Anders searched the floor, beneath the bed, and the cupboards in the washroom but came up empty-handed.

"Victor, come out if you're in here! It's okay, come on," he urged, voice cracking. He raised a hand to his mouth, trying to stifle the sob that clawed its way out. There was no time for that.

When he opened the door again he couldn't see a thing, the smoke was not just smoke but steam. Hawke must have tried to extinguish some of the flames with what ice magic he knew. He'd thank him later for his efforts, but for now he continued down the hall to their bedroom.

He checked under the bed and in the cupboard, feeling sick as he pulled back the curtains to find nothing. The only place left to recheck was the washroom.

He tossed around linens and a stack of clothes, heart plummeting when he didn't find him here either. He found himself succumbing to a coughing fit, each breath failing to bring in enough air, but he couldn't leave without finding his son.

A heavy hand clapped over his shoulder, startling him. He shook himself free of Hawke who stood behind him, trying to pull him back.

"He might be outside, we need to leave," he shouted, trying to steady Anders who was not well from the smoke.

"Go look outside then! I can't, not until I know!"

"You're not listening," Hawke insisted. "I've checked everywhere. Go or I'll drag you out."

"Get your hands off of me," he warned, shoving him away to check the rest of the room.

"I told you, I checked," Hawke repeated, more urgently. He grabbed around the waist and attempted to lift him but caught himself on the wash basin that was propped against the wall, toppling over it and both of them with it.

His vision as he hit the floor, but when he looked up he caught a glimpse of blonde waves and red cheeks.

"Victor!" Anders scrambled to his feet at once, rushing to the corner where he'd tucked himself.

He shrank away from him, hands over his ears. Shaking his head, Victor flinched away from Anders's attempts to touch him.

"It's alright, you're... you're safe..." He found himself still struggling to get enough air, each breath a fight. "Walk with me?" He offered a hand him, hoping he could reason with him. But Victor would not relent.

Hawke had no such patience, scooping Victor up under one arm and all but dragging Anders out of the scorched house with the other.

Back in the open air, Anders collapsed, coughing and gasping but still reaching for Hawke to place Victor in his arms.

"Anders, are you alright?" Hawke fretted, all of his earlier anger and frustration gone.

He nodded, still opening and closing his hands until his son was in them. He promptly curled himself around him, kissing the top of his head and cradling him against his chest.

"Maker, Victor, do you have any idea..." He was sure he did, the poor thing looked positively frightened.

For a boy so loud and boisterous most hours of the day, he had scarcely uttered a word, he wouldn't even look at them.

"What were you doing?" Hawke asked softly, kneeling beside them. "What happened?"

"I don't know, it just... got on fire," Victor finally managed, voice trembling.

"You saw the fire start?" Anders asked, surprised.

Victor seemed like he regretted saying that, suddenly shaking his head.

"What happened?" Hawke gently prodded.

"It just got on fire, I didn't do anything," Victor repeated, his voice cracking. "I didn't mean to."

Anders and Hawke shared a glance, and he knew they were both thinking the same thing. "Did you try to use magic?" Anders asked.

"No!"

"Are you sure?" He pressed.

"I swear, I didn't! I swear!" His face was all screwed up, hands balled like he wished to fight, though the bulk of his frustration spilled over as tears down his rosy cheeks.

An ache overtook Anders' chest as he gazed upon him, fearfully defiant. It was as though he were looking back upon him, standing in the charred remains of the barn he'd set aflame so long ago.

His father had not been kind. He'd made every moment a nightmare for him from that moment onward, until the day he had him taken him away.

He looked down at Victor in his lap, wondering how it was a father could ever think his own blood a monster. The smoldering house behind them meant little, but that Victor was safe within his arms meant everything.

"We're not angry with you," he said decidedly. "But what were you trying to do?"

He cheeks puffed thoughtfully. "You were in trouble," he said quietly. "I was trying to help."

"What do you mean in trouble?" Hawke asked.

Victor looked up, shrugged, then looked away. "You told Papa he doesn't eat enough. You sounded sad... I didn't want you to be sad or for Papa to be in trouble. I thought you would be proud of me for using my magic but... but..." His shoulders began to shake, the back of his hand scrubbing his eyes. "Now you won't be. Cause I burned it all up and... and now... I don't wanna be a mage..." A sob tore itself free, words lost within his wailing.

What would he have liked to hear when he was a boy, scared and looking to his parents for reassurance that he was no monster, that they were still proud? That there were consequences but he was still loved, he was still good? That even if they were disappointed or worried, their adoration would never falter?

"You know, when I was small, I set fire to a barn. I'd never seen a mage before, never even heard of one, but next thing I knew I was shooting fire from my hands when no one was looking. I was playing in the barn near my home one day pretending I was a dragon. Things got a bit out of control and the whole thing caught fire, my mother just barely dragged me out of there. She was furious, but mostly she was scared. I could have been seriously hurt, or worse."

Victor listened intently, sniffling. Anders smiled weakly and brushed the mess of golden locks from his eyes, still wiping at stray tears. "Back then, they'd take mages from their parents and lock them away where they'd never see them again. She was afraid of that too so I had to hide it as long as I could, pretend nothing was wrong. I did a pretty good job... for a while. But things are different now. There's nothing wrong with being a mage, in fact it should be celebrated. There's so much we can teach you, but you need to promise you won't go setting things on fire anymore without one of us there to guide you."

He nodded solemnly as his lower lip trembled and his brows knit together once more. "Are you sure I'm not bad?"

"Ha! You think I've never burned anything down?" Hawke piped up, a smirk quirking his lips. "Why do you think Aunt Mari cuts her hair so short? She got tired of me singing it off once a week and just kept it that way." It was a lie, of course, but Victor ate up, a small smile ghosting his lips.

"Of course you're not bad," Anders concurred. "I suppose we were due to move soon anyway. The important part is that everyone is alright. Don't do that again, though. We like to help too, you know. If you want to help with something like that, ask us. Promise?" He asked again.

"I promise," Victor nodded slowly, easing in his arms.

Anders had more to say, but Victor, satisfied that he wasn't going to be scolded again, climbed out of Anders's lap to take off after the kittens that played not far from the cabin. Hawke watched him go with a sigh.

"I'm sorry Anders," Hawke said quietly, kneeling next to him to brush his hair back and look him over. "I swear I thought I'd checked everywhere but... I don't know how I missed him. Maker, if I'd have known..." He ran a shaky hand over his face.

"That doesn't mean I should have shouted as you," he said, taking Hawke into arms, pressing him against his shoulder. "I was scared..."

"Me too," Hawke breathed, holding him tight. "Are you alright? I think you should see a healer, you don't sound very good."

"I am a healer," he reminded.

"A different healer. I don't want you exerting yourself until you can breathe easy." The hands that came to cradle his face were gentle, his thumbs caressing over his cheeks. "I love you. I'm not angry with you," he said, much as Anders had assured Victor, much as he'd wished to be assured all those years ago.

He smiled softly, pressing his forehead to his. "I love you too, love. And thank you." For being willing to search, for taking the risk, for putting up with him and putting it all behind them so quickly.

"Vic, c'mere!" Hawke called over his shoulder, waving him back in. "Want to go get breakfast in town?" It was a rare offer, but the healer would be there so the risk would already be taken, may as well take advantage while he had the chance.

The eager smile that graced their son's lips dashed any worry that crept its way forward. It would all be alright.

[timbermeshivers]

What if. I gave June a brother (ft. Aurora)

Picrew 1 & 3

Picrew 2