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Vermin by odDistortion
Vermin
A possible design for my little creepster, Victor Vector.
Of course, that probably isn't his real name, but it's a little difficult to keep your last name in mind when your adoptive 'family' are overly fond of sawing your extra appendages off your back for the sake of 'purity'. Oh, yes, this one has a story to tell.

He can serve as a vector for not only sickness, but also injury, pain, emotion and memories. He needs "eye" or skin contact for the transferal,  to progress; the greater area of skin contact, the faster this transferal can take place. Snake-like (his nose is usually running), he can 'taste' residual 'traces' (emotion, memory, et cetera), which are left in the air a person breathes or anything they touch directly.
Is he blushing? No; he runs a constant fever, for the few tablespoons of influenza he likes to carry around in his lungs (just in case). Also, he has no eyes. Those are human teeth stapled into his staff, there, which he genuinely needs to remain upright if it has been a particularly long day. Being perpetually ill has resulted in his low stamina and premature aging, though his mind is probably the sharpest out of all my OCs when it comes to manipulation and improvising. He also keeps a large array of scalpels inside his jacket. He names them. 
He is obsessed with purity, ironically, and if a transferal is initiated with one that is insane, or has very intensely traumatic memories, he may get 'infected' by the insanity, himself, and lose his sense of self for any length of time. I guess he is also an empath on some levels, as he can taste emotion, and can also see the hallucinations that others are experiencing, which is kinda fun. To write, I mean. Not for him. At all.

By the void, I could write all day about this guy, but I shall stop myself. Suffice to say, he is the slimiest (both literally and figuratively) character I have dreamed up, and an absolute joy to write for. Unfortunately, he is also very goal-orientated, meaning that finding a setting in which I may roleplay him effectively can be a bit of a chore. He is absolutely the backstabbing henchman; with the profound ability to bend the rules juust without quite breaking them, and also terrify the living daylights out of practically everyone he knows. Not intentionally, surprisingly enough. It just seems to happen whenever I roleplay him. Maybe cause he has no eyes. O.o
Now, I'm just going to leave these posts here for my future reference; an intro, and one from when he is suffering a mental breakdown after having skin-contact with an insane serial killer. By all means, scroll on. I am always far too verbose for my own good. D:

Victor Vector (c) :iconoddistortion:
If you steal my baby, I will throw undead cucumbers at you. And send him to your house. And you really don't want that. Not Victor. Anyone but Victor. xD

    The night was in its infancy; the sky a pale wash of tireless monotony, flecked with shards of forgotten wonder. At his feet was not cobblestone, but the fatigue of the workers who had trudged along it several hours prior. A figure garbed in general resentment and unsated bitterness jutted out of the dusty track that drawled through Highwater Creek like a suffocating worm. Of course, this figure could have told you that above his head was the flaking blue of a sky that had been baked for several hours too long, and he knew very well that 'resentment' was not a colour. His sunken eyes saw only these sensations, however. To him, describing the sky as 'blue' made slightly less sense than me depicting this text to you as 'youthful'.

    Victor (for that was his name) was quite beyond the theology of colour, at present. He was currently leaning very hard on a wooden staff, and breathing heavily. His pause was just long enough for one to observe the nineteen human canines that jutted out of his support before he sniffed the air sharply and continued onwards. His considerable height was crumpled into a fatigued hunch, and his free hand seemed almost to caress the air as he lurched towards the dilapidated building that served as the town's Inn.
    Built near the centre of Highwater Creek, the ramshackle building had, at first, sprung out of the ground proudly; its oaken supports boastful, its brickwork near luminous for all of its enthusiasm. Then the poor thing realised that it was in Highwater Creek. A town, practically in the middle of a desert. Their main tourist attraction was pig-riding, for goodness sake. 'The Wallowing Marmot', as the Inn was called was most certainly a place made for locals, by locals. Unfortunately, locals don't tend to need accommodation all that much: a fact that may suggest why the bricks had promptly sagged with the level of desolation unique to self-pitying teenager-buildings.

    Despite his evident fatigue and very near brush with a dropped bucket (kudos to Addy), Victor entered the Inn with the silent grace native to his general mode of being. He noted the presence of Vivian: a 'fellow' mutant enforcer with a slightly disturbing way with plants, and a figure that was, apparently, something special. There was also Isabelle; a saloon girl with whom he had perhaps exchanged ten words with over the past month, as well as Willow, a kindly tavern cook. Finally, there was a male stranger. Well, if only he had been one of those commonly mutants: then the tavern could have had some excitement for a change. But no: human. It was, as far as Victor was concerned, a delightfully dull array of individuals. Utterly boring. Hopefully the sun would empathize with this perspective and set early, so he could do something useful with the virus in his lungs. He acknowledged them with a nod, and, being the social creature he was, he slumped at an isolated table, flinging two tapered fingers into the air. 
    "Rough for her..." he monologued in response to Isabelle's empathy towards Vivian. Silly creature. So she could charm a few squirrels, and make a beanstalk grow quickly. Pah. Like that was worth tolerating the self-righteous deformity of a girl.

    "Herbal tea; if you can manage it." He purred; his voice was hoarse and very soft, as if talking loudly was too much of a strain. Though he slouched on his chair, blank eyes deliberately avoiding contact with any others, with a handkerchief pressed to his lip and the air of someone who is terminally ill, Victor gave off the air of someone who was very used to submission and respect. To anyone who followed such things, seeing Victor out and about this early was synonymous with finding a handful of mutants dead or missing in the morning. 
    He smelt of fermenting fruit, and only very slightly of rotten flesh behind his cologne: he made a point of being a very clean eater. As he waited, he absently picked a shard of something resembling a kidney from between his unnecessarily pointy teeth with a scalpel. 
    Victor coughed something juicy into his handkerchief: a polite reminder to Isabelle regarding exactly who was going to wake up with influenza tomorrow morning if tea was not provided in the immediate future.

    --

      Even a good few metres away from the flailing fire-mutant, Victor could feel the remnants of the white-hot pain even as it began to cool and solidify into something far more permanent. He didn't even bother stating his opinion on the matter: Vivian would be perfectly aware of his indifference to the death of the mutant, and, for once, he didn't see the point in antagonizing her by stating it.
      Unlike the crippled mutant, a clutch of twittering chirps seemed worthy of Victor's attention. They whispered faintly in the ethereal notes of what is not actually there. A hallucination, infecting his mind. Gods, no.
      Victor stiffened visibly as the arm of the criminal rested on his shoulder. His mind could not ponder at how the man had reached his back, nor interpret his words, for he could feel a dark shroud of something incomprehensible and terrifying lapping between his shoulder and the man's arm. Insanity. It stained the world around him bleak and cold; inexplicable in its unfathomable depths. To Victor, it was a void filled with hooked claws and grasping fingers. 
      To lose himself forever in those depths would be but the work of a moment.

      The crack of Nathan's neck shot through his thoughts like a gunshot. He flinched. More indecipherable dialogue. What was he doing here? Vivian could deal with this. Or maybe she couldn't. Who cared? Even if she died; even if they all died, it would surely be better than whatever awaited him if his mind snagged on any of those gnarled---
      It was getting stronger. Where? Near his face. Cheekbone. No. No!

      The void was mercilessly illuminated. The mindset of a serial killer became repulsively, deliciously sensible. Hatred garbed him like a masochistic cloak. It gouged his eyes. It coated his tongue. Impossible, cruel, sadistic phrases danced on his mind. In his mouth. They had seen terrible things. They had been terrible things. Their face was torn. Their heart was eaten.
      Unsateable thoughts. Reasonable thoughts. Delectable thoughts.
      Mankind was disgusting. All that was left was to swallow.

      Kill.

      Victor slammed to the ground with a strangled rasp: "No..."
      It was not a statement of defiance, rather than the meaningless moan of someone who had picked the syllable up by chance. He muttered the word several times over into the wooden floorboards, trying to recall the mindset that had left it. Kill... Did... Did he do that? He fumbled for the appropriate memories, blearily. He hoped they were his own. Yes. He did.
      He opened his eyes and saw nothing. Yes. He was... He was blind. But was he sane? No; he... He couldn't remember. Sane. Insane. One of those was good. For the life of him, he couldn't remember which. He vaguely hoped that he was the good one.
      Mankind. Was he mankind? No. That was good. They were disgusting.

      His thin lips twitched into a faint smile. He was mildly surprised to find no resistance from any scarring. Smooth. His face. That was nice. He found that his tongue was still repeating the word 'no' for him. Funny how words lose their meaning after being repeated so many times. Perhaps he should replace it with something more fun. Like murderer. Or buffalo. Now that was fun to say. Victor giggled. It was a light, hollow, eerie sound that seemed rather out of place coming from a dilapidated figure that lay on the ground like a discarded sock-puppet.
      Oh, but someone had asked him a question a while ago, didn't they? In a voice so dark and grisly and with so many interesting bits pointing out at odd angles to their meaning. Victor directed his sightless eyes towards the source of the gnarled voice. He was much too tired to move his neck, so his head stayed comfortably on that wooden floor-board. He tried a new word.
      "Yes." he purred, softly at first, but then loudly enough for him to enjoy the sensation of his tongue vibrating against his gum-line.
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Eyes 'n Apples by odDistortion
Eyes 'n Apples
"Aw; come ON, Chuckles. Ya know, last time ya tried this model, I squeezed enough juice from mah eye-sockets to drown Pinnochio*!"
"(sigh) ... You've been snacking on the rechargeable again."
"And so what if I have been?"
"... Dandy; Pinnochio lacks the respiratory equipment necessary to drown."
"Yeh. That's why they call it an egg.. exagg.. It was a lot of oil!"
" (Heh.) Is that so?"
"Tha's right! And I ken tell ya 'xactly where to shove 'ya flaming toerags 'a gizmoes!"
"-- you wouldn't dare..."
"... Mayhaps with the upgrade?"

*a robotic elephant, and Clutch's (left) current pet project.

Trill and Clutch generally exhibiting their dysfunctional little family-system; the latter generally trying to not be amused at his "resident burden"s habitual resistance to any type of upgrade. You see that face up there? That's him smiling. You charmer, Dredge. xD
Trill probably got up on a box or something to give Clutch a good talking to for that matter, 'cause I dunno how else she'd be able to catch his lofty eyeline.

What with the glowy (Well, I tried) eye-piece in the centre there, I figured I may as well enter this into the  OC-Challenge #26. The theme?  Bright lights! As soon as I saw the theme I knew I'd hafta throw more pictures of my robotic duo at you all, what with their luminous eyes. Tried to draw more attention to it with the replacement-eye; your call as to whether this was a good idea or not.

Trill 'n Clutch (c) :iconoddistortion:
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Shift-shaper by odDistortion
Shift-shaper
So this guy's design splattered onto the laptop screen as I scribbled him. Even if it's not final, I couldn't bear letting it decompose, so here he stands. I may edit it later when I have more decisive feelings about that 'background' though.

His name? Well, to be frank, no-one actually knows. Calls himself Red Black. He likes gnawing on memories; especially in dream form, though he really isn't picky. The more emotional or significant a dream is, the more of the individuals 'trace' it has; and the more of that he has, the more effectively he can mimic them, with his shift-shaping. He also barters memories: taking them away, or synthising fake ones, at a hefty price. The process is extremely addictive, especially if he sprinkles in a few teaspoons of 'Gen-ew-iine" emotion, though he usually just tosses in the crystallized stuff. Do it too much, and you'll start to become extremely lethargic and have difficulty feeling anything at all. Symptoms also include: gradual colour loss, memory loss, amnesia, and generally becoming a bland vegetable. If he doesn't munch on meaty enough memories, he suffers the same symptoms.
Oh; and that little kook in the background, there? (provided I haven't deleted him at the time of reading. xD) He's Red's little imaginary friend. I'm kidding of course: that would be absurd. If Red's imaginary friend wasn't huge, he wouldn't be able to make so much of a splash when he stalks into people's dreams and draws out memories or emotion out of them for crystallization.

Those things on his face are called shades for a reason. Then again, if you can find a single one of my OCs that isn't a slimy creepster, I'll give you seventeen muffins and an undead lobster. He adores chaos and is generally a selfish, narcissistic jerk-face; though what can you expect when you've decided that your eternal life is worth sucking other's lives out of their skull. He tends to be about two cm deep, and certainly isn't as clever as he thinks he is. He has a wonky moral compass and can be bound by his word; though be very careful with your wording when cashing it in. He is also surprisingly loyal, though winning said loyalty isn't the easiest feat in the world, given how moody and fickle he can be.

Red Black (c) :iconoddistortion:
Let's call that creepster in the back Mandibles, for now. He's also mine. Not much of a design to steal yet, though. xD
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Mashed beats: speedpaint by odDistortion
Mashed beats: speedpaint
Speedpaint is here!

Ah; something about this little creature just makes the drawing process go on... And on. xD 5 hours! That never happens to me! Aah!
Thinking of entering her into an OCT, which is why I'm trying to make her design slightly less fluid. Everything I say here will likely change dramatically as I get around to writing for her. They usually stop cooperating with my ideas of them at that stage. xD

Current name? Trill "Mish Mash" Dandy. She is gender fluid (I think?), and is an Animator, abilities-wise. Not going to elaborate on that now, as the sun will probably rise, soon. Maybe after some sleep. xD A smart-mouth, sassy, general odd-ball, she is a bit of a schemer and has a very black mischievous streak. She thinks inanimate objects are generally better conversationalists than people, and is unconventionally superstitious. She is a hoarder and will at all times have her pockets and hat stuffed with a ridiculous amount of strange things. Oh, and she's had her noggin totally screwed up by that hat she's wearing. Glowy eyes and all that. Doesn't have the best memory of her time before being scrambled up, but we're pretty sure she's not alive, anymore. She likes collecting textures and likes to think herself fashionable. Weirdo.

And she likes music, apparently. Doesn't sleep-deprivation give my fingers verbal diarrhea? Don't answer that. xD

WELL I AM FALLING UNCONSCIOUS, NOW. TOODLES, ALL.

... And back I am again. Hello.
Animator: she can talk to objects; nothing special, except that she can hear them when they talk back. She can learn an obscene amount of information from this ability, provided the furniture feels chatty. She can also form machine-like-instruments out of an unlikely array of miscellaneous items; the adhesion between the objects, and the power supply being magiked into existence via her unique gift. She cannot make things fly or levitate; and the machine needs to be able to physically work, if one had an infinite supply of pulleys, hands and super-glue. Oh; and things tend to explode out of her seemingly bottomless hat when she gets mad. It is very entertaining to watch.
A little note here: she is not especially clever, in a broad sense. Certainly not as much so as, say Victor. She is very good at thinking outside the box, to the extent that most of her solutions to problems are in all ways inapplicable. Never, ever play charades with her.
Ever.
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SubHuman: speedpaint by odDistortion
SubHuman: speedpaint
You may see the process here!


... No pun intended. I wish. xD
I am trying to complete a picture a day, though not everything will be uploaded here because quality control. xD
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So yesterday I went to a restaurant with a sushi-train (Ohmygod), then proceeded to nurture the little family of blisters consuming my feet. Came home to a new game, too. :D Oh, and there was also an exam. The last exam. Which I studied ever-so-much for. Mainly in Whiterun. Erm. Not that I'd make a big deal of being on holidays or anything but ERMEHGERD; UNI HOLIDAYS GO ON FOREVER WHEN YOU ARE AT THE BEGINNING OF THEM. SO MUCH YUS.

So I am notorious for doing absolutely nothing in those large swathes of space when... well, I suppose doing nothing is actually the point. But some freaks spend their free time doing productive things, and void knows I wanna see myself as a freak, so hey. Imma make a to-do list. Post it up here. Because why the goat not.

THE FOLLOWING IS SUBJECT TO RANDOM FACE-BASHING MOMENTS OF UTTER DENIAL AND GENERAL DELETION AND/OR REPLACINGHARDGOALSWITHEASYONES. Like eating ice-cream. Can do.
* Learn to touch type. >75wpm, you lazy salad-face.
* Write some original stories involving my OCs. (It's getting crowded in here)
* Program something sassy.
* Bake a full-course meal. Survive.
* Get together a little sketchy-book. For those random moments of "Hey; wouldn't it be cool if--"
* Stop the treadmill from gathering dust; I cannot read the display. Do as such consistently. Fortnight minimum.
* Upload things at regular intervals. What are these random bouts of amazing, and decomposing spurts of blank, I do not even.
* Eat ice-cream. With frunds. Yus.
* Get a tumblr up for my unfinished scribbles
* Compose some music?
* Make some speedpaints
* Finish Dishonored. :D
* Clean my filthy room.

So hello to my swathes of adoring fan-people. Do you have any goals? Are they better than the glorious Squidmoes? I didn't think so. But hey. That is why balls are spherical. So they can bounce back from these little inconveniences. Like baby hedgehogs. Juicy.
I have not had nearly enough sleep. Can you tell? :D
  • Mood: Humor
  • Listening to: Swing
  • Reading: Discworld
  • Playing: Skyrim.
  • Eating: PB&J

deviantID

odDistortion
Quizzical Quarks//MistaMishMash
Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
Australia
What can I say? I'm not actually a Quark, if you hadn't noticed. I mean, I don't make up everything, though I am known to be a compulsive liar.

Heh.
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:iconsquidwhiskers:
SquidWhiskers Featured By Owner 17 hours ago  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the watch! ;v; :heart:
Also your art is super cool omg
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:icona-krawiec:
A-Krawiec Featured By Owner 19 hours ago  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
cheeeeers.
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:iconvaragka:
Varagka Featured By Owner 2 days ago  Professional Digital Artist
thanks!!!
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:iconlonares:
lonares Featured By Owner 2 days ago  Hobbyist General Artist
I love your style! croocked ambiance and like real paintings 8D
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:iconveszril:
Veszril Featured By Owner 2 days ago  New Deviant Hobbyist
Thanks a lot for the Llama :D
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:iconsinfulvalentine:
SinfulValentine Featured By Owner 2 days ago  Student General Artist
Thank you for the llama~ And also YOUR ART IS SO COOL 

I DON'T UNDERSTAND BUT I WANT TO
*presses the watch button so fasT*
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:iconsedatephobic:
Sedatephobic Featured By Owner 3 days ago  Hobbyist Writer
Ohh your art is super interesting. I've never seen anything quite like it.
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:icongtatomten:
GTAtomten Featured By Owner 3 days ago  Hobbyist Artisan Crafter
Thanks a bunch for the fave! :)
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:iconcountpencil:
CountPencil Featured By Owner 3 days ago  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thank you for the Llama!
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:iconahsokixu:
Ahsokixu Featured By Owner 3 days ago  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you so much for the Llama!
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