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How to Write a Character with THAT *Sad Aura*

Have you ever stumbled upon a character, who, despite radiating wholesome, positive energy, also has a subtle undertone of sadness? It's kind of intriguing, isn't it? If you've ever wanted to write a perhaps more complex character or explore writing emotions, why not check this out?

What am I talking about?

Let's do a quick introduction as to what I mean. I've said this a couple times already, but to the reader, this character feels despondent even though they act nothing like it. This doesn't mean they have to act happy all the time (like my first example); they might act cold, or apathetic, but the point is they don't act visibly sad.

This faint melancholic mood provides a charming, or even nostalgic feel to the audience through ONE character! Isn't that kind of fun?

Eye Expressions

This character will not show sadness on their face--that contradicts the idea of "sad aura". But you know what they say, right? Eyes are the windows to the soul; they do not lie!

When trying to highlight some of this unhappiness, write about their eyes. Talk about how their eyes look oddly dim sometimes when they smile, or how they don't meet their friend's eyes when they laugh. These cues are simple but powerful.

Adverbs

You always have to be mindful of adverbs, but here especially, adverbs (and adjectives) unconsciously influence how your audience views the character.

For example, avoid saying too much of "smiled brightly" or "talked excitedly". If these are the adverbs you purposefully want to use to portray your character, then by all means! However, these adverbs add a happier connotation, which you must be aware of. If you want something more neutral (which I recommend for the most part), consider using lighter adverbs/adjectives, such as "smiled softly", or "offered lightly".

Reasons

A reason is normally needed for almost everything. Here, you want genuine reasons to back up why your character doesn't ask for help, thus forcing them to work through their unhappiness alone.

This could be because they think other people can't solve the problem, they don't want to bother others, they don't think their issue is a big deal, or they simply believe there's no solution.

Physical Hints

And if all this isn't enough, then drop some physical hints! Perhaps your character gets distracted often, tends to hesitate before speaking, deflects concerned comments with jokes, or has a hard time acknowledging reassurances, even when it's unrelated to their personal troubles. These habits suggest the idea your character has more than meets the eye.

Mood Changes

When people are upset, their mood tends to fluctuate. For most of us, we're typically upset for a short period, so we cycle through emotions such as anger, sadness, and even joy during these moments.

However, if your character is consistently sad, not just for a day or two, their mood might shift on different days. Maybe they're really tired one day, hardly speaking. Maybe the next, they are more frustrated, snapping at people or ignoring them. Maybe the day after that, they are overly energetic, bouncing everywhere and talking all the time, providing a bit of whiplash.

Purpose

Similar to having a reason for their reluctance of reaching out, you also want to ensure that they have a purpose for fighting. Why haven't they given up yet? This is especially crucial when considering the real world, where feeling upset leads to a lack of motivation.

So, what keeps them going, then? Do they want to fix their regrets? Do they want to change?

Backstory and Actions

To be honest, I wouldn't consider a backstory an absolute necessity, but I highly suggest creating one. Why? Because you can accurately identify the reason for your character's guilt, regret, and sorrows from the past with an actual backstory.

The events of your character's past always influence their future actions.

For example, if they were a part of a severe car accident in the past, perhaps they only feel comfortable when they are the driver in the future because that means they can control the car.

Conclusion

This character is not especially different from any other character, besides the fact that they are neither obvious nor overly secretive of their genuine feelings.

With that being said, focus on embodying their eye expressions, be careful about which adverbs and adjectives you choose to use--I recommend choosing ones with more neutral connotations for a sense of melancholy, explain why your character keeps their sadness to themselves and why they keep fighting despite it, show mood fluctuations, drop physical hints, such as actions and/or specific personality traits, and make sure to connect their past to their present!

Happy writing~

3hks ^^

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How to Write a Character

↠ Start with the basics, because obviously. Name. Age. Gender. Maybe even a birthday if you’re feeling fancy. This is step one because, well, your character needs to exist before they can be interesting. But nobody cares if they’re 27 or 37 unless it actually matters to the story.

↠ Looks aren’t everything… but also, describe them. Yes, we know their soul is more important than their hair color, but readers still need something to visualize. Do they have the kind of face that makes babies cry? Do they always look like they just rolled out of bed? Give us details, not just “tall with brown hair.

↠ Personality isn’t just “kind but tough.” For the love of storytelling, give them more than two adjectives. Are they kind, or do they just pretend to be because they hate confrontation? Are they actually tough, or are they just too emotionally repressed to cry in public? Dig deeper.

↠ Backstory = Trauma (usually). Something shaped them. Maybe it was a messy divorce, maybe they were the middle child and never got enough attention, or maybe they once got humiliated in a spelling bee and never recovered. Whatever it is, make it matter to who they are today.

↠ Give them a goal. Preferably a messy one. If your character’s only motivation is to “be happy” or “do their best,” they’re boring. They need a real goal, one that conflicts with who they are, what they believe in, or what they think they deserve. Bonus points if it wrecks them emotionally.

↠ Make them suffer. Yes, I said it. A smooth, easy journey is not a story. Give them obstacles. Rip things away from them. Make them work for what they want. Nobody wants to read about a character who just gets everything handed to them (unless it’s satire, then carry on).

↠ Relationships = Depth. Nobody exists in a vacuum. Who do they love? Who annoys the hell out of them? Who do they have that messy, can’t-live-with-you-can’t-live-without-you tension with? People shape us. So, shape your character through the people in their life.

↠ Give them a voice that actually sounds like them. If all your characters talk the same, you’ve got a problem. Some people ramble, some overthink, some are blunt to the point of being offensive. Let their voice show who they are. You should be able to tell who’s talking without dialogue tags.

↠ If they don’t grow, what’s the point? People change. They learn things, make mistakes, get their hearts broken, and (hopefully) become a little wiser. If your character starts and ends the story as the same exact person, you just wasted everyone’s time.

↠ Flaws. Give. Them. Flaws. Nobody likes a perfect character. Give them something to struggle with, maybe they’re selfish, maybe they push people away, maybe they’re addicted to the thrill of self-destruction (fun!). Make them real. Make them human.

↠ Relatability is key. Your character doesn’t have to be likable, but they do have to be understandable. Readers need to get them, even if they don’t agree with them. If your character never struggles, never doubts, and never screws up, I have bad news: they’re not a character, they’re a mannequin.

↠ You’re never actually done. Characters evolve, not just in the story, but as you write them. If something feels off, fix it. If they feel flat, dig deeper. Keep refining, rewriting, and letting them surprise you. That’s how you create someone who feels real.

Now go forth and write characters that actually make people feel something. And if you need a reminder, just ask yourself: Would I care if this person existed in real life? If the answer is meh, start over.

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How to Make Your Characters Almost Cry

Tears are powerful, but do you know what's more impactful? The struggle to hold them back. This post is for all your hard-hearted stoic characters who'd never shed a tear before another, and aims to help you make them breakdown realistically.

The Physical Signs of Holding Back Tears

Heavy Eyelids, Heavy Heart Your character's eyelids feel weighted, as if the tears themselves are dragging them down. Their vision blurs—not quite enough to spill over, but enough to remind them of the dam threatening to break.

The Involuntary Sniffle They sniffle, not because their nose is running, but because their body is desperately trying to regulate itself, to suppress the wave of emotion threatening to take over.

Burning Eyes Their eyes sting from the effort of restraint, from the battle between pride and vulnerability. If they try too hard to hold back, the whites of their eyes start turning red, a telltale sign of the tears they've refused to let go.

The Trembling Lips Like a child struggling not to cry, their lips quiver. The shame of it fuels their determination to stay composed, leading them to clench their fists, grip their sleeves, or dig their nails into the nearest surface—anything to regain control.

The Fear of Blinking Closing their eyes means surrender. The second their lashes meet, the memories, the pain, the heartbreak will surge forward, and the tears will follow. So they force themselves to keep staring—at the floor, at a blank wall, at anything that won’t remind them of why they’re breaking.

The Coping Mechanisms: Pretending It’s Fine

A Steady Gaze & A Deep Breath To mask the turmoil, they focus on a neutral object, inhale slowly, and steel themselves. If they can get through this one breath, they can get through the next.

Turning Away to Swipe at Their Eyes When they do need to wipe their eyes, they do it quickly, casually, as if brushing off a speck of dust rather than wiping away the proof of their emotions.

Masking the Pain with a Different Emotion Anger, sarcasm, even laughter—any strong emotion can serve as a shield. A snappy response, a bitter chuckle, a sharp inhale—each is a carefully chosen defence against vulnerability.

Why This Matters

Letting your character fight their tears instead of immediately breaking down makes the scene hit harder. It shows their internal struggle, their resistance, and their need to stay composed even when they’re crumbling.

This is written based off of personal experience as someone who goes through this cycle a lot (emotional vulnerability who?) and some inspo from other books/articles

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Ways I Show a Character is Deeply Lonely (Even if They’re Surrounded by People)

Loneliness isn’t always a dramatic soliloquy in the rain. It’s quieter than that. Sadder. Here’s how I like to show a character is lonely without ever using the word “lonely”

They make plans just to cancel them. The thought of being alone is scarier than the energy it’ll take to bail last-minute.

They scroll through their contacts looking for someone to talk to, but never text anyone. Because no one feels “safe” enough. Or worth the effort. Or like they’d get it.

They talk too much when someone gives them attention. Oversharing not because they trust you, but because it might be their only conversation all day.

They linger too long in shared spaces. Grocery stores, coffee shops, post offices. Anywhere that buzzes with humanity. Even if they don’t interact with a soul.

They create little rituals just to feel seen. Same café, same order, hoping the barista notices. Same bus seat. Same podcast, pretending someone’s talking tothem.

They fill their life with noise. Music, TV, background YouTube videos of people talking—anything to mute the silence they’re drowning in.

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There are two types of writers:

1. 'It's fiction, it doesn't need to make sense!'

2. 'I didn't account for the rotation of the planet and how that affects the constalations while my characters stargazed at different times of year, I have failed as a writer, and this entire thing is trash'

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MODERN EXISTENCE

CHAPTER 1: MORE OF THE SAME

CHARACTERS: ✦ Beck Molleur ✦ Dahlia Molleur

story intro moodboard table of contents < last chapter next chapter >

(if it's possible for you to read and listen to lyrical music at the same time, please listen to the music provided ❤️)

NOTE: this story is centered on two characters in a codependent, toxic marriage. Exact content warnings about the relationship will not be given for plot reasons, so if you have ANY possible worries about that subject matter, I beg of you to be cautious before reading this story. Thank you.

Most topics are implied—haunting the narrative rather than being displayed openly—and this story depicts how one can be trapped in that sort of relationship. It has portrayals of depression, self-hatred, and implied abuse... although I would still like and encourage you to read it.

Countless images flashed through Beck's mind.

Flooded streets, loose wreckage of destroyed buildings, and rows and rows of suffering people.

It was always like this. Beck was constantly tormented by these kinds of visions. Visions of pain, destruction, and death. Anything and everything going wrong around the world was stuck in his mind, constantly playing again and again and again.

Whether he closed his eyes or had them open, tried going about his day normally or not, he was tormented by visions of misery.

Still, Beck now had his eyes closed, cheek pressed up against the back of a couch, and noise-cancelling headphones over his ears playing soft, calming music.

With his senses stifled, it was easier to focus on the visions. It was easier to see what he shouldn’t be able to see, hear what he shouldn’t be able to hear, and move what he shouldn’t be able to reach.

The soft music coming from his headphones calmed Beck. He’d seen so much suffering in his life that he’d long-since grown almost numb to it, but… that didn’t mean he was okay with it.

He still wanted to help.

So, when he could, when things were “a little too bad”, Beck made an effort to use his powers for good. He’d make small changes where he could—fill in a pothole that’d been untouched for years, trip up someone on the attack, make a stray noise to draw someone’s attention near danger, or manipulate information that could otherwise destroy people’s lives—and try to help people.

… for once in his life.

“Sometimes I for-get… the world doesn’t want me…”

A whole roof had been torn off its building by the vicious winds of a hurricane. It tore through the air, flying toward another home—and suddenly steered away, crashing into the street instead.

“And I won-der where… all of my friends are…”

Hundreds of miles away, cars were bottlenecked at an aging bridge… one that had long-since been shut down for repairs. Not that it’d ever been repaired—but still. It was supposed to be closed.

People were desperate to escape the hurricane, though.

They risked the bridge, and if it hadn’t been for Beck watching over it? It would’ve cracked under the weight of their cars, plunging them all into the hungry waters below.

“But then I remember… I’d pushed them all a-way…”

So much destruction, so much panic, so much chaos—and Beck did his best to help everyone he could in small ways.

To avoid detection.

For plausible deniability.

Few people believed in magic, so what else were they going to believe? That a god walking among them—one they’d otherwise blame for their misfortune—was looking out for them? Or that the wind moved just in time? That the bridge was just a little sturdier than the architects and scientists believed? That Their God, whichever one or ones they believed in, was looking out for them?

Yes. Far better for people to assume those than the truth.

They’d all agreed on that thousands of years ago.

“So where am I? Who am I?” the song continued, melancholic.

“And what will I do… when I don’t ev-en have me?”

The couch shifted under Beck, tilting him to the side, as something landed on his shoulder.

Beck flinched, mind abruptly returning to his body.

Snapping his eyes open, Beck quickly turned to look at what had disturbed him—

A pair of bright green eyes—on the most beautiful face he’d ever seen—met his.

Despite her soft smile, Dahlia's eyebrows were furrowed slightly in concern as she stared at him expectantly.

“Who will I be?” the song continued.

Dahlia was a woman Beck knew well, though her face had changed countless times over the years. Now, she wore one of a brown woman with angular features and a mane of long, curly brown hair. She sat against the couch with one knee, her hand still on his shoulder, and the scent of her lilac perfume washing over him.

Beck swallowed, then cleared his throat awkwardly as he looked away to stare down at the cushion creased under Dahlia's knee. Every fabric of his being screamed against it, but Beck hesitantly grabbed the earpads of his headphones to slowly take them off.

“Where will I g—?” the song lamented, before getting cut off for overpowering silence.

“Beck?” Dahlia's voice interrupted, warm and gentle. “Everything okay?”

A wave of relief flooded over him.

Relaxing and smiling weakly, Beck hesitantly looked back up to meet her eyes.

“Yeah,” he said awkwardly, “just… was working on some stuff.”

Dahlia's soft smile grew faintly teasing. Then, she shifted to sit in his lap, her knees propped up against the cushions outside of his legs. Her hand moved from Beck's shoulder to his cheek as the other went to the backrest over his shoulder.

“Oh, yeah?” Dahlia asked, her tease leaking into her voice. “Like what?”

Beck felt his face flush as he pressed his cheek into her hand.

Letting out a slow, shaky breath, he turned his face away as he placed his headphones to the side and awkwardly wrapped his arm around her. It pulled her close as he stared hard at the headphones, still faintly emitting sound.

“Just… helping out around the hurricane,” Beck said, his voice subtly thick. “You know… without making it too obvious.”

He let out a small, pained laugh, then closed his eyes as he sank his cheek completely into her hand.

Beck's exhaustion leaked into his voice as he added: “not that anyone would question it, anyways. They just thank whatever god they believe in… or consider it ‘miraculous’ and move on…”

The entire couch shifted as Dahlia moved.

Beck tensed slightly, his breath catching in his throat. He quickly opened his eyes and turned his head to once again look at Dahlia.

His wife shifted to fully sit in his lap, leaning her forearms into his chest, cupping her hands around his cheeks, and meeting his eyes with a warm, loving smile.

“Awe, that’s sweet of you, Beck,” she said, voice slightly teasing still.

Then her eyes closed, and she leaned forward.

Beck took a deep breath before following her example.

Dahlia's hands dropped from his cheeks to rub against his chest as she kissed him gently, then slowly deepened it.

Beck struggled to breathe, but carefully kissed her back. Wrapping his arms around her lower back, he lifted her just enough to cross his legs under her and pull her close.

Dahlia paused the kiss—and Beck opened his eyes, though hers remained shut—to speak lightly against his lips.

“Did you know that?” she asked.

He swallowed awkwardly, looking down, not knowing how to answer.

She didn’t give him the time to figure it out. Instead, she quickly went back to kissing him, moving her hands up his chest and to his cheeks, where she rubbed his jaw with her thumbs.

Taking a slow, unsteady breath through his nose, Beck pulled her even closer and tried to just enjoy the kiss.

I love you, Ver, he wanted to say.

But he bit it back, giving her the moment to do whatever she wanted.

Instead, Dahlia pulled away after kissing him for a few more seconds. Her hands moved from his cheeks to his chest again as he met his eyes with another warm smile.

Beck was too caught up in watching every subtle shift in her expression to recognize his own relief.

“I reserved a restaurant for us to eat at tonight,” Dahlia said, a slight, sly smile on her lips. “Bistro Minuit is your favorite, right?”

Face flushing again—hotter this time—Beck hesitantly tore his eyes from hers to stare at the floor, past her hip. At the same time, he moved a hand from her lower back to place it over one of hers on his chest.

“Yeah,” Beck said awkwardly, his voice thick.

Then he gave a weak, dry chuckle, closing his eyes.

“It’s still open?” he asked, his voice weakly amused. “With how fast time goes by—”

“Uxi,” Dahlia interrupted gently. One of her hands—the one not trapped under his—moved to cup itself around his cheek again.

Beck froze, his breath catching in his throat as he quickly returned his eyes to hers.

But Dahlia still had her warm, slightly-teasing smile on her lips.

Her tease leaked into her voice as she answered: “of course it’s still open. I just told you I made reservations, didn’t I?”

Beck's heart twisted, but Dahlia's face was still soft, easygoing.

“—And, besides, I make sure of these things, you know that,” she finished warmly.

She seems fine. Nothing to worry about.

Beck forced a weak smile in return, but then sighed heavily as he closed his eyes and sank his cheek into her hand again. At the same time, he moved his hand from the one on his chest to cup it over hers on his cheek, lovingly sandwiching it between his cheek and hand.

“Yeah,” he answered, voice thick, but level. “You’re right. Sorry, I’d… I’d like that.”

Feel free to share your thoughts below, regardless of what they are.

Unless, yknow, they're "wtf are you writing; stfu". Or "men can't be abused." Keep that kinda shit out.

This is a very heavy story, and will touch on heavy topics... even if only through implication.

(Also to those of you who recognize their names... 🙂)

story intro moodboard table of contents < last chapter next chapter >

taglist

@honeybewrites @the-golden-comet @illarian-rambling @ashirisu @urnumber1star

@the-letterbox-archives @48lexr @aalinaaaaaa @thecomfywriter @an-indecisive-nerd

@seastarblue @rae-butter @mythicalmagical-monkeyman @corinneglass @friedmiu

@caffeinated-starsailor @overwhelmedfernfrond @write-with-will @theink-stainedfolk @industrialideafactory

@waflof @apenasumlug4r @thebookishkiwi @casualtriumphinfluencer @pluppsauthor

@homeforinsomniacs

(interact with this post to join the taglist)

divider by @cafekitsune

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If you can doomscroll for three hours, you can write for ten minutes. Don’t lie to yourself.

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Creates a perfect playlist for writing. Spends the entire session skipping songs, getting lost in lyrics, and staring dramatically out the window instead of writing.

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A great villain doesn’t wake up thinking, Ah yes, time to be a terrible person today. They believe they’re doing what’s necessary. Maybe they’re trying to fix a broken world. Maybe they’re protecting someone they love. Maybe they think the hero is the real villain. And that’s where it gets interesting, because when a villain has a point, it forces the protagonist (and the reader) to question everything.

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sometimes you need dialogue tags and don't want to use the same four

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I recently told an ao3 writer that I keep going back to their 260k word unfinished slowburn checking for updates for the last 2 years. They said I'm like that puppy that waits for his dead owner at the train station every day.

That's the realest thing anyone's told me online, I ain't even mad.

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It’s kinda funny how I can’t get really into anything atm.

Writing sucks, can’t get more than 500 words in and I write for hours, always thinking I wrote more than 1k words and than I check and it’s like 200. Whyyyy??? It’s making me mad.

Reading sucks… I try to read in train or before I go to sleep but I just don’t enjoy it… I usually read one short chapter and then go to TikTok. And like the book is great! I love the story, just can’t get into it for some reason.

Posting on social media sucks… like… I just don’t have any content rn. I don’t read, I don’t write, I don’t do anything. I just go to school, home, rot in bed, watch TikTok and go to sleep.

And I don’t even enjoy watching TikTok anymore 😫. Except the love story of Nick and Cassie iykyk.

And I don’t feel tired, sad or anything, I’d say I feel pretty normal, just can’t do anything really. Even for school.

Why???

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Working on the character designs for the next novel. Alissandro the mage, riding on Wisk the moose, on his way to save, romance, or kill a king, he's still undecided. (the One True King who's supposed to free the land from the Enemy is also Alissandro's ex, which complicated everything.)

The King in a Wheelbarrow, coming huh.... let's say 2030.

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