#a lot of my ocs are very self indulgent lol...

[thegreatfrogdungeons]

Finally finished another one of my oc's character sheet, paused and procrastinated on this one so much I made it 50% of the way through ANOTHER character sheet before returning to give her her text and background and such

This is Cassidy, household fisherwoman and serves as the defensive tank in the fighting ring. Girlfriend to resident goth snake Gwendolyn, supporting each other till the very end, no matter their quirks that may or may not pose a significant threat to each other.

She'll figure out what's with her body's mutations one day,,, in the meanwhile there's a line of other freaks like her that will gladly help her trim and stitch up any oddities, like monkeys and picking bugs out of each other's fur :)

[brittlebutch]

officially 10K into this fic and having a realization about where I'm at on characterization so far, so i'm wondering:

[undefeatablesin]

Everyone say hi to my new hunter Aloysha lmao ✨️ She's a mercenary currently under Ruza's employ (Aloysha sweet-talked her into it), or at least that was the case until the two of them got tangled up and separated in the paleblood hunt. Aloysha has a pretty great time there to be honest.

[winds-of-zephyr416]

You know, I’ve been having a lot of OC thoughts lately. Usually my family gets to hear most of them, but none of them are available so now it’s tumblr’s turn for insanity :)

So in my fantasy world that I’ve been building for a couple of years or so now, I have these… gods. Eldritch, celestial beings who exist as spirits in the world. They don’t really consider themselves gods, they’re really more like a lost civilization than anything, but the premise still stands.

Anyways, I’ve been thinking a lot about their culture and language lately. They don’t really have to contend with things like death, they’re very much so immortal and almost impervious to harm, so they don’t really do a lot of things for survival. They also typically communicate with a form of telepathy, so language isn’t even a necessary thing for them.

But they still have a language. They still have architecture. They still have a society that comes together to solve problems. Granted, it’s a lot different than what human civilizations look like, because of the whole “impervious to harm” thing, but they have it, and that’s what’s important.

You know what else is important? Their language. Especially their language. Good lord I am not normal about their language.

Their language is made up of sounds that mimic the world around them. Some words are built up out of rippling streams and birdsong, while others are made out of sounds impossible for us to even hear. Their words are crafted, and many are made to have double meanings and ambiguity. They can’t be ambiguous when they trade thoughts and ideas through their minds, so the notion of being able to say something with multiple meanings fascinates them. They write songs and poetry, and they are engrossed with it, because sound has never carried so much meaning before. They make jokes. They find misunderstanding hilarious, because they’re so alien to their usual way of communicating. They adore puns. Language isn’t a necessity for them, but they developed it anyway, because it gave them a new way of having fun that they had never encountered before in their billions of years of being alive.

Later on, when humanity comes into the scene, they realize that they can use this thing called language to talk to them. Humanity is not like the gods, humanity needs to communicate through a physical medium, whether it be through sight or hearing or touch. Humanity is often confused or overwhelmed when the gods converse with them, because they find that many of the sounds the gods use are completely incoherent. They can’t recreate the sound of thunder in the sky, or crackling flame, and often they look around them in fear, as if the sound alone is indicative of danger.

So, the gods adapt. They learn the languages of humanity, instead, and talk to them in their own tongues. But mortals are curious, and the gods love to learn and teach, so it isn’t long until the gods try to translate the sounds of their language into something humanity can listen to and understand. The music of the slow cracking of the earth is shifted up in pitch until mortals can hear and hearken to the sound, and the mortals in turn recreate it with what their voices will allow. Slowly, the gods make their language perceivable, and slowly, humanity teaches them how to make it pronounceable.

The resulting speech is neither mortal nor divine, but somewhere between the two. Its words have a rippling quality, and in each sentence one can almost hear what is being spoken. The word for wave becomes a low crash, the word for music becomes a dancing song in the ears of whoever is there to listen. There is no doubt that there is magic in these words, with the way they call everyone in the room to their attention and fill their hearts with the very soul of what is being said. This language is not magic in a sense of control, it does not bind things in the world to its will, but it carries with it the memory of the world it was made to describe.

Later on, this middle ground, this speech both mortal and divine, would become lost and forgotten. It would not vanish violently, with the sudden fall of an empire, nor would it fade away with the few who are “worthy” of speaking such a tongue. No, instead it would grow and evolve with the people who learned it, moving across the continent and coming into contact with new lands and people. There, it would teach and learn in turn, and then diverge again, becoming yet another middle ground.

Slowly, like this, the language of humanity and gods together disappears. It does not die, but it dissolves, morphed into a thousand little pieces that stay on in other languages. It can still be found, if you look close enough, at the way speakers arrange their words, or in the rhythms they like to sing. Not even its name is truly past, still being borne by a speech that closely resembles the one long gone.

No, the language of mortals and the gods does not die, because, even in the darkest of days, when it seems like the world will perish and all life along with it, each syllable uttered in fear echoes the language that once carried nothing but joy, and each sentence given in comfort is another window into the years when things were bright. The tongues of mortals do not forget, even if humanity itself has.

And even so, were the speech of humans ever to forget what they helped to create, the gods would still remember. And maybe, the gods would teach and be taught by the mortals once again, in spite of the mutilated darkness that enshrouds these present days. Perhaps they already have.

[themoonpool]

I saw wendigo, and I wanna context, please?//

(Ah. YIPPEE!!!)

(OKAY. Short version: AoT OC. Titan shifter Styx lol)

[kalloway]

:)

gonna try to be self-indulgent to fight depression, wish me luck boys

[cerealmonster15]

On one hand I want to show my unhinged multiverse caterella flow chart(???) just bc it’s like. FUNNY to me how tangled and excessive and so very messy it is,,, but on the other hand I am Way to embarrassed to show how much I’ve obsessed over the branching concepts jdnffngjgn I don’t want people to Read It. maybe I’ll censor everything LOL you can fill in the blanks yourself 🕺

[astrxealis]

my ocs..... i love you

[wintaerbaer]

dawning (kth)

summary: He’s never invited into your world during these late night sessions. You always push him away or ignore him. This is new.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader

rating: sfw

genre: established relationship au, angst, bit of fluff, hurt/comfort

word count: 2.2k

warnings: heavy depictions of depression and panic attacks, a brief line where taehyung worries oc is s**cidal

a/n: another piece from my aggressively depressed era when i was trying to work some stuff out in my writing, but this one is very self-indulgent (and has a happier ending than the last one lol). and the background picture of the banner is mine! :)

MASTERLIST

He doesn’t hear you get up.

He wakes in the middle of the night and rolls over in bed to find cooling sheets in the spot next to him. Lying flat on his back, he listens for sound but there’s nothing, just the chirpings of nighttime insects and the cars passing by on the streets below. It’s not the first time he’s woken to find you gone, but it hurts the same.

The fact that he’s not enough for you.

Taehyung swings his legs out of bed and sighs as his feet press against the hardwood floor, rubs the heel of his hand into an eye. The clock on the nightstand reads 2:53am, and you really could be anywhere. There are nights when you’ve just gotten up to curl on the window seat in the living room, but there have been other times where you’ve left the apartment altogether. Sometimes you go to your favorite twenty-four-hour diner for a cup of coffee, and on one horror-filled night, he’d even had to call the cops to help track you down when you’d decided to take a late night walk in the park.

You say you just need to clear your head sometimes, but if he’s honest with himself, he’s terrified that you’re trying to get yourself killed.

He stands, snatches a sweatshirt off of the chair in the corner, takes a breath as he slips it over his skin.

He’ll find you; you’ll be okay.

He saunters into the living room, moonlight painting everything a pasty white, and confirms what he already knew to be true: you’re not here. It looks as though you didn’t touch anything either, everything being just as the two of you had left it before going to bed – wineglasses and dirty dishes on the coffee table (he’d take care of them in the morning), television remote precariously balanced on the arm of the couch.

The only thing different is your missing shoes by the door.

He slides his feet into his own sneakers, mentally running through all the places you could possibly be: the diner, the park. Hell, you could be wandering around the city mindlessly—how would he find you then?

The thought speeds him on as he hastens down the stairs and outside. He could try calling your cell phone, though you almost definitely wouldn’t pick up. You probably have it on silent anyway. You do that a lot; you say the noise bothers you.

But at times like this, it scares the shit out of him.

He strides down the sidewalk with purpose. He’ll check the diner first, and if you’re not there, the park will be next. Last time, you were found traipsing around the pond by the south end, and it’s possible you might be there again.

These worries are for naught though as he spots you through the window of Stella’s, coffee mug cradled in your hands.

The bell tinkles as he walks in the door, and your eyes immediately snap up to lock with his, some emotion swirling there that he just can’t put a name on. He slides into the booth seat across from you, signals your usual waitress for a cup of coffee, and makes an attempt at a smile.

“You were gone.”

“Yeah,” you say, quiet. “Just needed to clear my head.”

He takes a moment to study you, assesses the pain in your posture. “Scale of one to ten?” he asks. You frown at your cup, think.

“Eight.” You fiddle with a spoon. “I woke up and it was hard to breathe.”

He sighs. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

You’re frowning at your coffee again, haven’t looked him in the eye since he walked in. “You seemed peaceful,” you say. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

He reaches across the table to take your hand; you stiffen but doesn’t pull away. “I’ve told you, you’re never a bother. If I can help, let me help.”

You slide your hand from his grip, and there’s a long silence before you whisper, “What if you can’t?”

“What happens if you don’t let me try?” he asks, and your eyes finally meet his.

You say nothing—just stare at him—the hurt that he sees everyday peering out from under your lashes.

“Please, sweetheart, just try to help me understand what’s going on in your head.”

You break eye contact again to look long and hard out the window, and he knows he’s lost you.

“I can’t,” you say.

He slumps back in his seat, once again defeated. A cup of coffee is set in front of him, along with some creamer, and he gives the waitress a feeble smile in thanks, decides to focus on this task instead.

He pours the creamer into his mug and reaches down the table to grab a few packs of sugar, carefully tips them in. He doesn’t look at you, just slips a spoon into the cup and stirs, trying his best to not get angry.

Because he does, he wants to help. And you won’t let him in. He’s so tired of waking up to find you gone or crying in the bathroom or curled up by the window with that blank look on your face. All of this hurts him too; why can’t you see that? He just wants back the girl who wasn’t afraid to take a leap and kiss him on a rainy night in April after an umpteenth study date, and he knows you want that woman back too—he can see it in the way that you look at him.

“I’m sorry.”

He looks up at the sound of your voice and is horrified to see tears streaking down your face.

“It wasn’t supposed to be this hard,” you choke out, and any frustration that he was previously feeling dissipates immediately.

He slides into your side of the booth and hesitantly wraps an arm around your shoulders. You neither lean in nor resist and so he pulls you closer, tightening his embrace until you’re muffling your sobs in his shirt.

“I’m here,” he murmurs into your hair. “I promise. I’m right here.”

Taehyung just so happens to look up when you walk into the room, hair swinging past your shoulders and a textbook tucked under your arm. You’re pretty, beautiful actually, but you carry yourself in a way that suggests you don’t know it. Your eyes flick up to his and he reflexively looks down at his desk, embarrassed to be caught staring.

He busies himself with his phone, trying to act nonchalant, and he can feel the blush creeping into his face when you quietly take the seat next to him.

“Can I borrow a pen?” you ask after a few awkward seconds. He nods and fumbles around in his bag, still not looking at you for fear that he’s making a fool of himself—he can’t even find a damn pen. And sure enough, when he finally does locate one in the very depths of his backpack and hands it to you, your lips are twisted with barely held back laughter.

He’s thankful when the professor walks into the room and your eyes are no longer trained on him, making his heart beat faster than it ever has.

It’s barely a week before Taehyung once again wakes to find your side of the bed empty. He scrubs a hand down his face, gives a light shake of his head to clear the fog of sleep.

The clock on the nightstand reads 4:37am.

He rolls out of bed, rubs at his bicep where the faint prickling of pins-and-needles irritates the muscle. Then comes the habitual check for any noises that might indicate that you’re still in the apartment.

Nothing.

He slips on a jacket, slides his feet into a pair of boots, and tromps out of the room, stumbling into the wall ever so slightly from the grogginess that still weighs him down. He hopes you’re at Stella’s; he could use a cup of coffee right about now.

He crosses through the living room and is halfway out the door when he hears the voice.

“Hey.”

He spins on his heel and almost topples over. You’ve got your knees pulled up to your chest on the bench seat by the window, half of you bathing in pearly moonlight, the other half veiled in shadow.

“Hi,” he blurts. “I thought…I thought you were out.”

You shake your head, the bare hints of a smile gracing your lips. “No.”

He scratches at the back of his neck, never knowing what to do in the situations where you’re actually here. On most nights he just putters around, keeping an eye out while you impassively stare at the streets outside.

But tonight, you toe the vacant spot next to you.

“Sit with me,” you murmur.

That immediately gives him pause. He’s never invited into your world during these late night sessions. You always push him away or ignore him.

This is new.

He nudges off his shoes, drops his coat on the couch, and slowly makes his way over to where you’re curled by the window. Deciding to let you set the pace, he takes a cautious seat, back straight, hands in his lap.

“This okay?” he asks.

You cant forward, hair swinging to cover your face, but he thinks you’re laughing at him just a little bit and the knot in his chest loosens ever so slightly.

You guide him back so that his spine is pressed against the wall of the tiny nook, his legs swinging up to bracket the spot where you kneel. Then you turn so that your back is resting against his chest, before pulling his arms to wrap around your waist.

“This,” you whisper. “This is better.”

He lets out a long exhale, can’t help burying his nose in the hair at your neck. “Love you.”

You hum, leaning back in his embrace, and little by little, he feels the tension leave your body. It warms him from head to toe, holding you, the city lights keeping you both company.

And after a while, still propped up against him, you fall asleep.

His heart is in his throat, absolutely stunned into silence by the way the sleek, midnight blue dress you’re wearing hugs every curve and slope of your body. He truly doesn’t know how he’s gotten so lucky or what he could have possibly done to deserve your presence in his life.

You slide up to his side, a coy little smile flirting with your mouth as you slip your hand into his.

“You wanna get out of here?”

“Yeah, sure.”

You aimlessly walk through the streets, arm in arm, laughing at the most random things and goofing off, and when he looks at you, you just seem so…happy.

You get to the park and he feels it’s now or never, so he pulls you to a halt. You look up at him, your tongue poking through your smile, and he’s lost all of his words, doesn’t even know what he could say that would ever be enough for you. Enough for this.

So he merely gets down on his knee and pulls out the ring.

He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t have to, because you immediately gasp out a “Yes!” and join him on the ground, tightly wrapping your body around his. He clutches you to him, makes a silent promise to do everything in his power to make you happy.

To give you a reason to smile.

He’s jolted awake by your hands on his chest, shaking him violently. Eyes snapping open, Taehyung finds your face hovering over his, clearly panicked and crying.

He immediately bolts upright. “What? What’s wrong?”

You curl against his chest, sobs racking your frame. “Can’t,” you choke out. “I…I-I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” He tugs you tight against him as you shake your head.

“I-it’s suffocating,” you mumble. He tries to loosen his hold and pull away, but you latch on with a “No!” and he hesitantly wraps his arms back around you.

“I…I woke you up,” you say, sobs beginning to subside.

“It’s okay,” he says quickly. “It’s fine.”

“You wanted to…to help.”

Oh.

Wow.

“You want me to help? Just tell me how. You want to talk about it?”

You shake your head again, vigorously. “Please. No.”

“Then how—”

“Here,” you blurt. “Just stay here.”

He gives your shoulders a squeeze. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know.” You press closer. “I know.”

He rubs his hands up and down your back as you gradually ease into him, your breaths evening out, and for the first time he feels hopeful. You may not be close to talking about it—may not be anywhere near opening up fully—but at least there’s this.

At least you let him hold you up.

The clock on the nightstand reads 6:13am.

a/n: pls consider liking, replying, reblogging, or sending an ask! <3

[66sharkteeth]

This ask is long overdue on my part, because it's something I've been wondering for awhile! You have said before that Rex was an OC you've had since like, middle school. Can you tell us more about that? Often I feel like, if a creator is too attached to their MC, it can show through, and make it less enjoyable as a reader, which is something that I worry about for my own creative work. But I never felt that way with Rex. Were there compromises you had to make for his character?

hmmmmmm -scratching head-

i'm not sure tbh. i mean to be clear, he's very different from the middle school version. i mean the VERY VERY first version of him was technically a stoic, edgy Cloud Strife rip off, but not long after I made the version that's more like what we know today. He was still kind of a silly goofball back then, but a lot meaner and mischievous. I remember in the RP with my friend that a lot of CoB came from, he literally pickpocketed Desmond, something he wouldn't do in a million years now. He has his faults now, but is still overall a boy scout compared to his original version (maybe the original version is coming out in his Scion tho lol)

Um... as for how I've kept him enjoyable though... Hm. I totally get what you mean when you can tell a character is someone's baby they aren't willing to change, but I think I've been lucky in the fact that I just like a lot of things that are enjoyable in MCs. Rex's biggest (personality) inspirations are probably Luffy from One Piece and Yato from Noragami, who I think are both very likeable characters (Yato especially is enjoyably flawed but still loveable).

I'm not gonna lie, the only "compromise" that comes to mind for me is maybe the shipping lol. If he was entirely self-indulgent OC, I'd probably have him end up with Desmond. But narratively, Bell is just the best character for him to end up with. I do love Rex and Bell to be clear but yeah i'm ngl, Rexmond's one of my favorite ships lol. They just have to exist in AUs unfortunately.

[mrzombielover]

- slow ride masterlist

synopsis: having been reincarnated in hell, sinner!adam is desperate to take any chance at getting back into heaven, and shows up at the hotel’s doorstep

warnings: NSFW, enemies to fuckbuddies to lovers, angst, female!reader, reader and adam are both assholes, lots of substance abuse and yearning, unhealthy relationships, canon typical violence

a/n: ermm so guess whose my latest obsession? he’s such an asshole i need him. anyway this is the first multi chapter fic i’m posting in a WHILEE so i hope it makes sense!

disclaimer! reader is basically my OC sorry lol but this is my blog and i’m self indulgent asf! reader is basically mickey milkovich coded😭,and implied to be very powerful in both ability and influence. i also know next to nothing about how cartels work tho so i keep all that vague asf cause who gaf?

ch i

ch ii

ch iii (WIP)

ch i

ch v

main masterlist

[boxheadpaint]

juice induced hill depression. Back on meds again and hopefully going to get in touch with a new psych who can prescribe me something else. Have been very tired and unjoyful the past week but better now and playing modded Skyrim, initially just to make my oc in it but then just kept slamming more thangs in there. Mod that puts bunny rabbits everywhere. Also is there a mod that adds cute animal ears/suits as wearables or one that even makes the girl armor less sucks. Like im either fully leaning into the immersion breaking for self indulgence sake or im getting rid of the annoying shit.

visiting mom in Vegas earlier this month was nice except for the part where I hate Vegas. I know im not great with travel and settling into places can be a tough one for my brain but also my god it’s just evil there. Brilliantly so but still evil. I would have loved to enjoy the scenery surrounding the place more as deserts are just very beautiful and fascinating places but at no point during the day was the temperature less than a full hundred degrees Fahrenheit. It barely dropped during the night either. Between that and varying physical ailments (Oof Ouch My Digestive Sensitivities Lol) (Oof Ouch My Tendons Lol) (Oof Ouch The Agony Caused By Using Stairs Lol) it was the perfect conditions to be a miserable pile when I wanted to be with my family. As sad I was to part ways again I was not sorry to leave that place. Gained a new appreciation for changing up what I eat randomly to keep my body on its toes. At one point mom brought us to a pub and her husband asked for Diet Pepsi while I asked for regular Pepsi. Visually there’s no difference so we got handed the others pepsi and swapped. And then later after he refilled his Diet Pepsi another waiter came up and wordlessly refilled mine as well. With Diet Pepsi. Wasn’t even asked. Fucking stunned. Also went to a near dead mall that was nice anyway

stuck on brain zaps as a symptom of Specifically antidepressants withdrawal. There’s some things describing them as “mini seizures” in function. To me it’s like the body noticing the usual isn’t happening for some reason so it tries to jumpstart the brain into working good like before. universities I can go to with my theories. Back in and at it this week, hopefully to remain consistent for longer than before which will also likely help with the depression and anxiety. More people should just put stuff in their blood if they can

it can be embarrassing to express your misery more clearly to someone, specifying the fact fact thoughts running through your head. But then again it’s only embarrassing because your mind convinced you so, and will convince you that holding it in is also cruel and selfish. Finding it funny that animals probably don’t have as complex spirals and bouts of depression because they dont have a language to articulate to themselves in their own heads that something is awful in a very specific and contradicting way. Or actually no because there is still pattern recognition but that’s more a paranoia learned thing. Is there an animal that can randomly, for seemingly no reason evident to anyone including itself, experience crushing dread and self doubt. Is there an animal that feels shame besides man

had a tilt table test that was embarrassing too but for much more clear concrete reasons. Somehow didn’t know about that second part, and did complain through most of the first part because Oof Ouch Everything Hurts Lol. REALLY did not know the iv thing and had to once again sadly state that no, It has to go in the hand . I will say the experience was funny in the second part from the other ways because my first reaction was literally just “Uh Oh.” The moment I realized it was going to get worse. all I know is my blood pressure stayed consistent throughout, I don’t know what else im gonna hear about it. Hopefully something helpful.

is setting up an ABLE account difficult? Can anybody do it? It’s an issue dealt with by a lot of people but I should at least try to find a way to save money from benefits for the future or in case some stupid medical shit happens that the health won’t cover. I just looked up and saw Vinny sleeping while propping lubics head up with his foot. Hoping I can enjoy things normally again shortly,

8/26/2024, Still better than july

[olderthannetfic]

I find it fascinating how many people conflate OCs with "lazy writing," or view OCs as a "low-brow" approach to fandom, because I personally find writing OCs a lot more difficult than writing original fiction or canon fanfic. But I do have a very anal approach to OCs where I basically try to insert them into canon but retain as much canon as possible. I'll bend canon here and there, because canon is written to be self-contained, and there's no "reason" for my OC to be there, so for them to not feel like I've just Photoshopped them into existing scenes I need to create reasons for them to be there in canon. But I also want canon to retain its feel. I probably actually restrict myself too much. It's super difficult to feel like I'm doing it well, but I love writing OCs. I can see why OC fic is not considered as good because a lot of it is...not that good, but to be fair, canon fic can also be bad, it's just that disproportionately more OC fic is bad, LOL. But one criticism I will never get is that OC fic is "too self-indulgent." This is fandom. We're all self-indulgent here. Your canon fic might appeal to a broader audience than my OC fic, sure, but don't act like it's more altruistic :,)

--

[espresso-ships]

The Umbrella Academy self insert OC!

F**k it

*introduces you all to my TUA s/i*

Watching Season 4 was depressing AF (and not canon if you ask me <3) so here's my OC based on Season 1/2! :3

Still WIP, but I was inspired by my lovely moots and fellow selfshippers who also have made TUA OC's and selfships! :D

(This s/i is very "unrealistic" and self-indulgent, so be aware LOL 😭)

Astrid ?????

No surname - just adressed as Astrid

Pronouns: All and any, but prefers she/her

Age: Somewhere in her late 20's

Background: She's somehow related to the Swedes Triplets, and born in Sweden!

She used to work for the commission and was a "hitman".

Travels a lot in time, so she might be young but has seen a lot lol

Long story short - she sucked at her work LMAO - so she betrayed the trust from The Handler.

During one of her missions in the 60's timeline, she was injured and left by the Commission - as a punishment for betraying the trust of the Commission and messing up work.

After being stuck for about a year, left without briefcase and a chance to return to her own timeline, she eventually gave up and accepted defeat.

Somehow, she ends up meeting Klaus and they become friends.

...Probably ended up joining Destiny's Children at some point 😭

She keeps her real identity secret for quite a while, but eventually suspects Klaus isn't from this timeline either. Once getting to know him better, she tells him about her past.

Personality: Extrovert, witty, optimistic (before getting stuck in time atleast), honest, sarcastic.

She's usually friendly, but develops trust issues, and has a difficult time trusting people.

Apperance: As seen in the pictures down below! She also has a scar on her left cheek, from a previous mission. Her hair is more of an "ash blonde" tone! She has freckles and dark circles under her eyes-

Picrews used: One, two

Also adding Klaus as a queerplatonic f/o! <3

[skyfallscotland]

Hi! I hope you’re feeling better. 💜

When I’ve heard writers talk about their process, some outline a character before they start writing and outline everything- the charcater’s history, personality, etc. While other writers say the character “talks” to them as they write and they don’t plot a lot out before hand. I’m curious- how much of Remi’s personality did you determine before you started writing? For example, did you know she was wonderfully snarky before you started writing? Did you always know she struggled with depression?

I know you’ve written other OC’s too. Has your process changed since writing Tessa and co?

Hi!

I...am incapable of lying lol. I'm not really, but I appreciate the sentiment 💗 Not looking for sympathy, just keeping it real 💀 The depression be doing some depressing. But hey, *sobs as I smash at my keyboard* it makes for great content!

I don’t hear it. I can’t hear anything but the pounding of my own heart and one memory on repeat. You can love someone and hate them a little at the same time. My mind is stuck on that. I know he loves me, but—he hates me, he hates me, he hates me—I fucked things up.

I never outline an entire character before I start writing. I have an idea in my head, but not a whole profile. I don't even name them until I'm part way through a story, they're "Name" usually until like chapter five-ish and then I hate their names until like chapter ten.

The case of Remi is a little different, honestly I've kind of done things backwards. When I created Tessa I had an idea of what her personality would be, based on what she'd been through living in Illyria and there were small parts of myself I incorporated into her, like her struggle with social settings and relationships. With Stella I was more just having fun, but keeping in mind the (broad overview) history I had planned for her. They do kind of just write themselves, if I'm honest. It's why I like to write ahead, because I only ever have a broad plan in mind.

I don't know that I ever really planned to publish BRV outside of like a little wattpad adventure. It was entirely self-indulgent. I tried very hard with Tessa and Stella to have them be...measured? I guess you'd say. To not pour too much of myself into them.

Remi was cathartic. There's so much of me in her. She was my 'whatever, it's not serious' character and story. I just threw whatever I wanted at the page without worrying about whether things were realistic or too self-indulgent and I guess that worked for a lot of people.

I knew she'd be snarky and a realist and that she wouldn't be as settled as Violet with her chronic illness. I knew she'd be depressed and quick to anger because that's me and my experience and it was a therapeutic process pouring all that out onto the page. So I guess I didn't really need to determine anything, I just wrote from the heart. She's almost self-insert. It's made it really comforting that people relate to her so well, because it feels like they relate to me, when no one else does outside of the internet.

It's funny because I'm trying (and never making time) to plot out the original novel I plan on writing and there's this voice in my head like saying I have to be measured and I have to plot out these characters first and their whole histories and personalities because it's a Serious Thing, but then I'm reminded that the character I wrote who resonated the most with people was just me throwing my unhinged feelings into the void, so???

Also, I had intended my first original fantasy novel (featuring a chronically ill fmc and dragons) to have two main characters—Remi and Caden. Then Fourth Wing came out and I screeched in fury. I used the name for BRV anyway, but... 🙃

And the MMC for my sports romance is named Liam and I wanted to give the FMC a nice tough girl name like Sloane 😭 but I guess the universe said fuck you, again, so that's a nope, so if anyone has suggestions here I am.

[sehtoast]

I like your thoughts and interpretations a lot, so I wanted to ask, how can I write Homelander x reader (or anyone) and make it not feel like he’s being put out of his comfort zone or doing something just as a way of coping? It sounds silly but I’ve having thoughts on it and besides having a lot of consent checks and stuff I’m not sure how else to do it. I’m probably overthinking but I thought I’d ask since you write and seem to have good insight on characterization and consent

The thing with this is that you actually have a lot of control over this as the author in subtle and obvious ways (took me a while to answer this  just because there’s a lot, lol).  So much so that it’s hard to pinpoint exactly what may or may not make something feel consensual in your writing.  There’s not really one particular thing that achieves this, you know?  It could be anything from comfort/safety with the person you’re pairing him with, to consent checks (these are just as effective!), to his own enthusiasm in the scene.  I’m gonna talk about smut writings below the cut, so warning for ns/f/w below:

To start, I’m hoping you’re asking this in regards to smut, otherwise I’m just info dumping on smut writing lol.  Consent and boundaries can exist for much more than sex, so apologies if I’m getting this wrong.

If you’re looking to go heavy on a show-don’t-tell way of showing consent and comfort from Homie, think about how he reacts to certain things.  Does he lean into their touch?  Does he shake with need, or is it actually anxiety?  <- This in particular is one that might require a smidge of telling, though your descriptions of him in the scene can indicate the difference too.  Does he touch/cling to them, or try to confine himself to his own sort of space as if to keep away?  A lot can be told just in the way he reacts physically. 

Doing perspective from his pov can also help a ton.  Is he excited by what’s going on?  How’s his internal monologue sounding?  His emotional state?  Fics from his pov can help with being more open about how he feels and you don’t have to pingpong as much between characters.  Readers are generally understood to be consenting (unless otherwise specified) since those types of works are self indulgent, so the focus doesn’t necessarily have to be on both but certainly can be if you’d like!  

‘Telling,’ or just having verbal consent checks (can be nonverbal too!) is still very effective, and is something I’ve done in my own fics before.  That, and the stuff above (and stuff I might have missed) are all really good ways to do it.

I’m going to talk about how I write him with my OC (and, to be fair, readers as I just picture the reader as my OC anyway when I write those types, lol).  With Ben, it's interesting to write smut for Homelander.  The whole shtick with them is that Ben is literally just some guy Homie threatened into joining The Seven that ended up bonding with him and forming a relationship.  The beauty of that is that this establishes a baseline of comfort and safety with one another (as a general rule, this baseline can be understood in fics without much or any backstory in a lot of cases). 

In one of my side fics, I have Ben stop Homelander from initiating sex, and even kissing (pre-relationship, for context) because he recognizes that Homelander is trying to bury his grief with it and doesn’t want to take advantage of him while he’s in such a tender state.  But that scene was written with the understanding that Homelander was trying to do that, and his paired character recognized it.  Again, this is something that you have incredible control of as the writer.

With my Ben x Homie fic “Touch,” I actually have it start with Ben asking if he can touch Homie.  I focused that fic from Homie’s pov and have him ramble some internal thoughts about “duh, we’re dating,” which I did to sort of toy with Homelander’s concepts of explicit vs implicit consent.  Ben asks for explicit consent, but Homelander believed it was already implicitly there.  As a man who has likely never genuinely been asked that question (or at least not in good faith/have it be ignored after), it felt very right to have Ben ask him that.  Throughout the fic, Homelander seeks more and more contact with his body, which I felt shows his eagerness and desire to continue.  

When things are a little more wild, such as with the fic where he’s tongue-blasting Ben’s wrist spinnerets, I wrote from Homie’s pov again to establish that it was his freaky-deaky playful nature that led to him thumbing at Ben’s wrists, gauging the physical response, and getting more and more into it.

Writing him as submissive or bottoming is when I rely heavily on physical queues as well as verbal.  If he’s seeking more on his own accord while trying to follow any rules, this shows his eagerness.  Gasps, moans, and glassy eyes searching for reassurance (that find it readily) are good physical indicators.  And here I think consent checks would be excellent!  Given what we know about him, his abuse by authority figures, and his struggle with power dynamics, it’s not at all inappropriate or out of place for his partner to ask if he’s okay, if he wants to continue, etc while he’s in an especially vulnerable state- especially if his partner also knows about these things.  I think he would actually really really appreciate this.

Want to tie it all together with making sure he’s comfortable?  After care.  Holy moly, after care!!!  After care is under utilized imo, but it’s a wonderful way to have your characters talk afterward and explore how they feel.  Maybe one takes care of the other, helps them clean up, preps a bath and dotes on them (or they mutually dote) while they share the tub.  Maybe it’s just pillow talk.  But it’s very special and can really add that layer of comfort.

Like I said, there's a ton of ways you can do this. Just do what feels right, you know?

I don’t know if this answered everything thoroughly, but please shoot me another ask if I missed anything!  I appreciate you a ton for thinking of me and your kind words about my interpretations <3