Whenever I create new characters - for writing, for tabletop RPGs, or for video games - I look for character creation tools and charts to help me think through their personality, but the ones I’ve found have either been too long and complicated (”describe your character’s relationship with her paternal grandmother”) or too culture-specific (”does your character believe in God?”). So I made one for myself. It’s meant to be a quick exercise, designed to get down a few important aspects of a character and a few anecdotes to flesh them out. The questions are also very broad - you can interpret them in whatever way you find useful, and they should be interesting to answer whether your character exists in the modern day or in a fantasy world. Since I’m sure I’m not the only one with this issue, I thought I’d share it here. Enjoy - and if you have any questions you think would be neat to add, please comment with them!
List or describe three…
Names (first/middle/last or first/nickname/last):
Things they are bad at:
Things they dislike:
Beliefs (moral, religious, or personal):
Instincts (beyond those commonly felt - eg. an instinct to protect the weak, or to become passive-aggressive when insulted):
Important moments in their life:
Unimportant moments in their life (funny stories, anecdotes they like to repeat, or small moments demonstrative of their character):
Important relationships in their life (at the beginning of your story):
It’s 3:55 AM and I had this idea and I just HAD to write. Hope you guys enjoy it! xx
He shouldn’t do it. He knows he shouldn’t do it and yet he’s here, downing a sip of his tequila on the rocks and hearing the ice clinking against the glass in his hand, watching you from the other side of the room. You’re deep into conversation with one of the crew members as you guys unwind after a show, the fourth one of the week, which had everyone in a tizzy with all the travelling and moving from hotel to hotel on top of bad nights of sleep on the bus.
He’d invited you over to spend a few days on the road with him after learning you were off from work and you had jumped at the chance, having not seen him much after promo had started. When you arrived, after a long flight, he felt like his heart was about to burst from excitement and the hug he’d given you had lasted for about five minutes until he was forced to leave you so you could settle in.
He shouldn’t be doing this but his feet are taking him to you before he can command them to stop. He shouldn’t be doing this but he’s settling in beside you in a bench in the corner of the big hall and his arm is around your shoulder the second you smile up to him, beaming with joy at the sight of him. He shouldn’t be doing this but his heart is thundering in his chest and he’s searching his brain for ways to convince you to just let him kiss you. From the second you arrived until now, it’s the only thing that’s been on his mind and he cannot, for the life of him, stop thinking about it and writing about and talking about it (even if just to himself).
You’re there, looking at him as if he’s the most important thing in your world and you’re having fun with his friends and you look beautiful and he just wants to kiss you. He shouldn’t want this, he shouldn’t do this, he shouldn’t, he shouldn’t, he shouldn’t. And yet, here he is, with the words spilling out of his mouth as if he has no self-control.
“Embrace.” He tells you, sitting on the little bench you’ve retired to after spending almost an hour on your feet, chatting with different people on his crew. “Feel like we don’t use that word enough, don’t yeh?”
Author’s Note: old fic;i remember writing this, and i was shook™ at how much dirty it turned out to be lmaoo enjoy! and don’t forget to write back to me ;)
Masterlist Here (coming soon!)
Bucky Barnes is a light sleeper. The Super Soldier’s super ability to hear is one of the reasons why he wakes up with dark rims under his eyes for most of the mornings.
But ever since you both started sharing a bed, that habit of his was fading away. You’d make sure you were always snuggled up to him, giving him a sense of assurance that you’re here, with him. And then even the slightest noise stopped to disturb him
That was until tonight, when the sweet disturbance was caused by you.
You had your back pressed against his front. His face buried into your hair, as he smiled and inhaled your sweet shampoo. The metal arm wrapped around your waist as you both inhaled and exhaled together, almost as if you both had practiced it.
“So.” Stiles drops back against the side of the Jeep, elbows braced and spine sinking slow against the dusty blue metal. Derek’s hovering a few feet away, at the edge of the lot, not quite ready to vanish into the night but not prepared to join with the rest of the group, either.
He needs their voices, maybe, to block out the ones in his head.
“Looks like I saved your ass again,” Stiles is saying, flashing him a crooked grin. He looks warm and bright like the rest of them, a glow of victory dancing around him that can’t quite seep into Derek’s bones. “What’s the count, now? ‘Cause I think I’m getting pretty close to earning a victory ride in that sweet new Camaro.”
Derek’s lips twitch, a snort slipping out.
“I seem to recall saving you last time.”
“Hey, we’ve been through this. At best, that was a tie.” Stiles looks so smug Derek can’t bring himself to argue, and maybe that’s the reason Stiles’ grin falls. His eyes go soft, flitting over Derek’s frame.
“I’m glad you’re ok, man. …I mean, as nice as it would have been to have my very own, hot guy lawn ornament––”
“Why did I look at her?”
He doesn’t mean to say it; flinches at his own words. His hands are too-tight fists he stretches straight with an effort, and when he looks at Stiles again the bright expression’s gone, replaced by tension and an edge of a grimace he’s trying to fight down.
BACK WITH ANOTHER ONE-SHOT!!! I told you guys I’d have some canonverse klangst, so here it is! Longer than my usual one-shots, and while I don’t want to give a vague summary… there’s a bomb involved. So. Yeah, that’s a thing.
I saw this comic on my dash and I loved it so much that I was immediately inclined to write for it? Anyway, here it is! I hope you enjoy!
The plan had been going flawlessly.
Key word being had.
Shiro and Lance were both searching
opposite sides of the base for their captured teammate, and Pidge and
Hunk were too occupied giving Shiro directions through the maze-like
corridors that they neglected to warn Lance of the approaching Galra
A cat blocked his path in the hall,
staring at him with large, yellow eyes. It didn’t move to attack, but
it also didn’t run away.
“Um… guys?” Lance tried over the
coms, lowering his gun just a bit. He wasn’t about to shoot a cat,
but he still wanted to be on guard.
He didn’t hear the Galra behind him
until her hand was on his shoulder.
godd BBC Merlin is so gay that Merlin and Arthur are willing to sacrifice themselves to save the other by episode 4.
Like in episode 1 they ‘hated’ each other (but like Arthur couldn’t stop staring at Merlin when he saved his life ;) )
In episode 2 Arthur decided to trust Merlin’s word. And when Merlin said he’s just a servant so his word doesn’t count, Arthur gives him this look that just screams that he thinks the opposite.
In episode 3 Arthur defends Merlin, saying there’s no way Merlin could be a sorcerer even though he admits to it. He even says Merlin is a wonder while staring down like… that’s so gay
Then in episode 4 Merlin drinks from a poisoned cup, one he knows is poisoned just to save Arthur and then Arthur goes and risks his own life to get that damn rare plant and almost dies in the process and when Uther crushes the flower Arthur reaches for it through the bars because he’s so desperate and like DID ANYONE INFORM THEM THAT IT’S JUST EPISODE 4 OH MY GOD
like they were so attached to each other by that point that losing one another was unthinkable like… whatttt??? XD
I mean, they’re canon soulmates but like come onnn, let me live.
Absurd. Absolutely fucking absurd. It was 2am during finals week and the cafe was out of coffee? You had some colorful words for the person responsible. Dragging yourself up the stairs with sleep-ridden eyelids, you muttered curses under your quickened breath. You clenched and unclenched your fist. It was safe to say that your fifth espresso shot had officially just worn off. Despite the troubling rate of heartbeat and the fact that your hand was shaking all on its own, the subtle pounding of a migraine lingered between your temples in demand for something to keep it awake.
There was still a menacing stack of papers left to grade. If something could pull you away from it all, you would have been thankful. It was almost nauseating, actually, how much work you had yet to complete. Who the hell said grad school was a good idea? The urge to scream rippled in the back of your throat, tempting you to let everything out and just empty yourself into time and space.
It did you no better to return to the study room –the very cramped one that you had booked privately for the entire day– to find a regretfully familiar face emptying his bag across from your belongings. “What do you think you’re doing?” You felt lightweight as the angry jitters travelled through your body. The heavy door slammed shut behind you. It sent a deafening sound cracking through the library.
“Dean…. Dean.” A gentle voice pierces the dream-scape, pulling Dean back to consciousness. There’s a hand on his back, guiding him, pulling him in. There’s a body pressed along his side. It’s warm and comforting, and despite being pulled from his precious sleep, he smiles.
“I don’t wanna be awake,” he murmurs, and there’s lips against his shoulder. “I don’t wanna move.”
“Things to do, people to save.” Cas’s voice is quiet and low. There’s a smile in his voice, though Dean can’t see him. Dean pulls Cas’s arm around him and tugs him closer, chest flush against back.
“Not now. Not yet.”
“Dean,” Cas says, a kiss pressed to Dean’s hair.
“It’s not time to go yet, Cas. I can’t. You’re here. I’m not ready.”
Cas’s face is buried against Dean’s neck, and Dean breaths in deep. “I’m always here with you, Dean. Even when you can’t see me. I’m here…”
“Come back to me.” Dean’s words echo in the empty room as he opens his eyes. The warmth he felt from Cas is gone, replaced by cold pillows and a mess of sheets. But no Cas. Never Cas. The air is musty and heavy with the scent of bacon. Sam’s trying to lure him from his room, as he does often these days.
He sits up, grudgingly, and scrubs a hand through his hair. He steels himself for the day ahead – another day without Cas. Another day of going through the motions. Pressing his fingers to his lips, he leans back and presses those fingers to the folded trench coat beneath his pillow. “I mean it, Cas,” he murmurs. “Come back to me.”
As has every day since, he allows himself a moment before he’s up and off, the patented Dean Winchester mask firmly in place. Later tonight, he’ll down a bottle of whiskey, hold the trench coat against his chest and cry himself to sleep. But for now, today, he’s Dean Winchester, the legendary hunter. He pushes forward, like Cas would want. He tries to be the man Cas always believed him to be. A good, heroic, strong man. If nothing else, he can be that for Cas. If nothing else, he can do what it takes to earn the love Cas so willingly gave him.