Oc Backstory - Blog Posts

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Chrysanthemum Days Chapter 3

[Part 1] | [Part 2] | [Part 3] | [Part 4] | [Part 5] | [Part 6]

Chapter 3 is OUT and oh man its brutal.

TW: Story Arc Chrysanthemum Days has subjects of intense bullying, suicide baiting, manipultion, social isolation, and mentions of self influcted wounds. If any of these subjects bothers you, skip this story arc.

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Chrysanthemum Days Chapter 2

[Part 1] | [Part 2] | [Part 3] | [Part 4] | [Part 5] | [Part 6] 

And a long-awaited reveal over the mysterious rumors answered!⁣⁣ Trivia for Mira is at the very end, so check all the way through!⁣⁣ TW: Story Arc Chrysanthemum Days has subjects of intense bullying, suicide baiting, manipultion, social isolation, and mentions of self influcted wounds. If any of these subjects bothers you, skip this story arc.

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Chrysanthemum Days Chapter 1

[Part 1] | [Part 2] | [Part 3] | [Part 4] | [Part 5] | [Part 6]

The year and a half of junior high school are shown here in this comic that will go into detail Shimi’s backstory, just before entering UA High. Mira Monomaneki (not related to Neito Monoma), is a key character in this arc.

// REMEMBER HOW I SAID I WAS DOING STORY THINGS? HERE'S SOME OF THEM!

I figured before jumping into U.A. and how Shimi and Tetsu met and all that nice juicyness, I should outline the backgrounds of the individuals! First is Shimi!

so! I did a thing over the past two weeks and drew all seven of my main ocs!

jaig first! he's got a partner named dul and two kids named noé (9 years old) and eidami (21 years old)! that is his strill that he named akaan who is a very good baby!! his sword was a gift from dul after he lost the old one being stupid. the sheath says "❤️mir'senaar❤️" which is a mando'a word I mashed together using mirsh (brain) and senaar (bird) to mean bird-brain.

aurebesh translations: the cans say "paint", the arrow pointing to him says "probably needs glasses", and the arrows pointing to his cups are "drinking water" (left) and "paint water" (right)

lotti!!! it's not short for anything, it's just her name.

lotti is one of the partners of eidami (another oc that I've posted about). she's pantoran and ran away from home due to a bad family. she met her best friend na'vena (eidami's other girlfriend) and then they meet eidami on a bounty hunt a few years later.

the first ever drawings of eidami's (my oc) parents!!

their names are jaig and dul naak.

jaig was born mandalorian and has a diving bird aliik that dul took when they got married. they exchanged knives instead of vambraces because dul sees their armor as something that's almost sacred due to their past.

dul and jaig are both the type to commit to a bit or, in the case of their armors, a theme. jaig went with a bird theme and dul with their half and half.

dul's armor is a past and present, a representation of where they've been, their past and the destruction that defined it, and their present, a regrowth and happiness despite all of that.

jaig's armor is more rooted in mandalorian color meanings (or what I could find of them). the black base is for justice against the empire. and he has feathers all over in red (honoring a parent/parents), orange (shereshoy/lust for life - he has this for dul), green (duty - mainly for his kids, eidami and um'noeh, but also for what he feels is his duty to help get rid of the empire), and he has a few in gray (remembrance - for his first love).

they adopted eidami in 14 bby when she was 1 year old. and then they got um'noeh (who's actually very important to her family's story despite the fact I haven't drawn her too much) around 5 bby. they got separated not too long after that and jaig and dul were looking for their kids ever since.

The Running Game

WC: 850-865

Part of the backstory for my oc Billy Bunzy Trander - The Rabbit King

This is wayyy before he loses his mind and becomes a 'possessed' cult leader.

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Billy had always loved running around, aimlessly and in circles. When he was a child, when he still knew and loved his dad, they would often go into the woods and play The Running Game together.

The object was to run in the largest circle you around someone without getting dizzy, then you'd chase after the other person and tag them, making them the runner.

Billy would win most of the time, because his dad would let him, even if he was a much better runner than him, being a grown up and all. After a couple if rounds they would saunter into town for a snack.

This was during those times when people like them weren't seen as unnatural or dangerous, when they could enjoy whatever they did after playing all day.

But one day, seemingly like any other; something, or maybe even everything changed.

Billy and his dad, then know by his last name 'Trander', we're finishing up their second round of The Running Game. Billy had won again, much to his dad's lackluster 'dismay'. It was decided that since Trander was the loser (again) he'd get to be the runner and would have to chase Billy.

Putting on a sigh and an air of defeat, Trander stalked around his son; twisting, turning, skipping and getting faster whist making his circle larger.

When he finally decided his circke was wide enough, he playfully pointed his hands at Billy, who had been paying very little attention until then.

They both snapped into place: Trander, the hunter, the predator, the Chaser; Billy, the prey, the Runner.

But, instead of going immediately after him like he usually would, Trander said,

"Hey, Bill, I'll give you 45 seconds of a head start. Show how fast my genes are, I wanna see you kick up sand and dirt, kid!"

The sweet, angel like child could only nod and giggle hysterically while running away, the opposite direction of his father. When he guessed about 45 seconds were gone (,which in reality was actually an entire minute, unbeknownst to the little boy) he ducked down, under and into a 'shelter'.

It was a large hollow-ish log that had fallen into some sizable rocks; just enough space for a small child or two to comfortably hide inside.

He sat and stayed there for a while, hearing the occasional shout of his name and yelps of unrewarded 'GOTCHA's and 'FOUND YOU's.

Trander could make three guesses about where his son could be. But even though he knew where he was, he made no effort to actually look for him.

With a sigh, he called out almost half-heartedly,

"Hey, Buddy... I know you're out here somewhere! I will find you!...... Billyyyyy! BIILLYYY!"

Trander looked towards the large log and noticed his child's light up sneakers. He sighed and nodded, jogging further to the opposite side of the woods, away from the areas where he and his child could be seen playing by other people.

Nobody heard of him after that.

Billy stayed under the log for 3 hours. Once he decided to get up, he noticed how close to evening and sunset it was.

He called out for his dad but got no answer. Running back to the front of the woods, he saw his mom and some people who noticed them go into the woods earlier.

He rushed to his mother, unsure of what was really happening.

Mrs. Trander: Where's Papa, Bunny?

Billy: I no no Mama. We were pwaying d-da winning game and I was hiding so well he couwdn't f-find me... I'm so-sowy, Mama.

To Mrs. Trander, this would now be the saddest day of her life. To see her child cry tears of fear and to hear that her lover had disappeared was the worst thing to ever happen to her.

The amount of tears shed in those weeks after searching high and low for Trander were enough to make a large pond look like a small glass of water.

Billy Bunzy never played The Running Game again.

For a long time, about, 4-6 years, Joseph Trander was never heard from again.

Search parties came up empty and this only helped stoke the fire of rumors that the Faye folk and people called 'Worshippers of The Craft' were on the rise.

Bunzy had unfortunately got caught in the eye of the storm or nonsense. He and his mother were believed to be the reason Trander went missing, that they somehow transported him to the Faye Realm.

Bunzy doesn't care for his birth name anymore; he trashed it just as his father trashed them.

KORE'S FIRST DAY! Spoilers from Ep.19 of the Sands podcast Art by: Avery

Crimson Collapse- the story behind Bakon’s scars

Trigger warning: gore and mentions of death

Setting: a few days before Stanford reached out to Stan.

(Old artwork at the end)

The job should have been simple—a quick in-and-out heist in a crumbling old building said to house a fortune in abandoned goods. Bakon and his crew had scoped the place out for weeks, but on that fateful night, things fell apart in the worst way imaginable. The building, far more unstable than they had planned for, became a death trap.

The air inside was heavy with the stench of mildew and decay, the faint sound of dripping water echoing through the silence. Bakon moved cautiously, his flashlight flickering against the cracked plaster walls and rusted pipes that jutted out like jagged teeth. He could feel the structure groaning under its own weight, the faint tremor of instability rippling through the floor beneath his boots.

Then it happened.

The ceiling gave way in an instant, unleashing a hellish cacophony of splintering wood and screeching metal. Bakon didn’t even have time to scream. A massive beam crashed down, driving him to the ground as his legs folded unnaturally beneath him with a sickening snap. The impact knocked the air from his lungs, and he let out a ragged gasp as sharp debris rained down, tearing into his flesh. A jagged piece of rusted rebar impaled him clean through the abdomen, bursting out of his back with a wet, nauseating sound.

The pain was beyond anything he had ever experienced—an excruciating, fiery agony that sent shockwaves through his entire body. Blood poured from the wound in heavy gushes, pooling beneath him in a sticky, crimson puddle. He tried to move, but the weight of the debris was crushing him. His ribs bent unnaturally inward, cracked and splintered like broken glass stabbing into his lungs.

Bakon’s cries for help were hoarse and broken, each breath a struggle as blood filled his mouth. His flashlight had fallen to the ground, illuminating his twisted, mangled body in cruel detail. He could see the jagged bone of his shin protruding through torn flesh, the white stark against the red. His hands, trembling and pale, weakly clawed at the rubble pinning him down, but it was no use.

Minutes dragged into hours, and Bakon’s screams turned to whimpers, then silence. The blood loss was making him lightheaded, his vision darkening at the edges as he slipped in and out of consciousness. The cold, metallic tang of blood filled his mouth as he coughed weakly, spitting out a thick, congealed glob that stained the ground beside him.

He called for the others—desperate, pleading cries that echoed through the empty corridors—but no one came. His crew had abandoned him, fleeing the moment the collapse started. Even Stanley, the one person he trusted, was nowhere to be found. Alone in the suffocating darkness, Bakon’s thoughts grew frantic. Anguish and rage churned within him, mixing with the raw, primal terror of death creeping closer.

When they finally found him, Bakon was barely alive. His skin was pale and waxy, his lips blue, and his body convulsed weakly as his pulse flickered on the edge of nothingness. They rushed him to the hospital, the paramedics’ voices a distant murmur in his ears. He could feel their hands on him, the searing pain as they moved the rebar from his side, and the choking sensation of a tube being shoved down his throat.

In the operating room, his body gave out. His heart stopped, and for over an hour, Bakon was dead.

Death was not a peaceful void for him. It was cold, dark, and suffocating. Time warped, stretching into an infinite expanse of emptiness where Bakon felt the weight of his failures crushing him all over again. The silence was maddening, his own thoughts clawing at him like feral beasts. He was utterly alone, trapped in a limbo that felt like an eternity.

And then, against all odds, he was pulled back.

When Bakon woke, his body was a patchwork of scars and pain. Tubes snaked out of his arms, his chest, his throat. His legs were in heavy casts, and every shallow breath sent a sharp, burning pain through his shattered ribs. His face was gaunt, pale, and his sunken eyes stared blankly at the hospital ceiling.

The weeks that followed were a nightmare of their own. The physical therapy was brutal, each session leaving him sobbing in pain. His hands trembled as he tried to grasp a spoon, the simplest tasks requiring monumental effort. The rebar had shredded vital nerves, leaving parts of his body unresponsive, numb yet searing with phantom pain.

Worse still was the isolation. No one came to see him. He lay in that sterile room day after day, the hum of machines his only company. He thought of Stanley often, the bitterness festering in his chest. Stanley had abandoned him, left him to die, and now Bakon was trapped in this ruined shell of a body with nothing but his anger to keep him going.

Months later, when he finally left the hospital, Bakon was unrecognizable. His once-proud posture was hunched, his gait stiff and uneven as he limped out into the world. The scars on his face and body told the story of his suffering in jagged lines, and his eyes were cold, hollow, and filled with a simmering hatred.

Bakon had been given a second chance at life, but to him, it was no gift. It was a curse. And as he walked into the cold night, his mind turned dark with thoughts of vengeance. If the world had left him to rot, he would return the favor tenfold. And Stanley… Stanley the young man he loved will pay the price for abandoning him.

Oc story;

Tw - execution, possibly gruesome death

(Medieval time) The king looked down from his throne at the court fool who had been accused of sleeping with his son in a homosexual relationship. He had just declared that the jester would be put to death on the rack. That evening, when the whole kingdom had gone to bed, only the executioner, king, and court fool was awake. The jester's ankles are fastened to one roller, and the wrists are chained to the other. Their neck had been chained, too... then the process starts, their body is stretched and pulled, first their arms and hips are pulled out of socket, then their spine separates to its limit, their neck stretched until their head popped off and their torso broke open from being stretched to the limit.

It had been painful, extremely painful, but when Laffy Taffy had woken up next to that underground river that reeked of death, nothing hurt. It felt as if a million pounds had been lifted from their shoulders. They weren't scared when an old raft of pale wood floated up to the riverbed. The driver of the raft held out his old weathered hand for passage on his ferry, Laffy had none, or thought they had none, but then they felt two gold coins in their pocket and handed it to the ferry driver giving them passage to where they'd be judged and sent to their afterlife in the realm of Hades. They were sent to the Elysium, on the outskirts of the heavenly place but there they were able to still bring smiles to peoples faces becuase, even in life they had been a great contortionist and entertainer but with how they had died its like they had no bones at all and could stretch and stretch and stretch to no end... so even with the end of their life, they kept living happily as the Underworld's entertainer.

Laffy Taffy

Before the accident.

Oof, angsty/edgy stuff with Kassandra and Victor.

hi tumblr! fun fact about my trollsona, is that they used to be much brighter and more eye-catching like poppy and the others, kind of like this but better colour-picked.

what happened? well after being raised by the funk trolls half of their life, they got curious, stepped outside, got bullied by some snooping rock trolls, and lost their way. they couldn't find the funk-ship (as i like to call it) after that.

they quickly paled in colour as they realized what the world around them had come to, almost greying at some points; but eventually they accidentally found the pop troll village and were forcibly welcomed to stay.

then they slipped away on their own to meet branch, and everything else goes down from there- (they're still prone to greying temporarily any point, though in the first movie when poppy and the others greyed, they didn't.)

so basically they're like the opposite of branch; instead of brightening if any positive emotion comes along, they dull further if any negative emotion comes along, even going as far as greying temporarily sometimes.

also yes they were born a pop troll technically, however they were generously raised by king quincy and queen essence; and also found out pretty early on that because of the way they were born, they physically cannot sing (because it hurts their throat). soo yeah, quiet pop-funk troll who can't sing and makes mixtapes and the occasional original beat. and is basically branch's perfect non-biological sibling- (and is also shipped with hickory because i cannot resist that man.)