How To Develop Your Characters

How To Develop Your Characters

1) Reveal your character slowly. If you info-dump too much about your protagonist straight away, there is no more wonder surrounding them. By slowly unraveling details about a character, the reader can understand them more fully and see their growth happen in real-time. When your character begins to open up naturally as the story progresses, they’ll reveal things about themselves through their actions or dialogue.

2) All protagonists should have a goal. When a character sets out to complete their goal, that is when the story is born as well as their character arc. The obstacles they have to overcome and the setbacks they face develop them as the story progresses. When you give your character a goal and make it hard for them to reach it, they begin to figure things out and grow as a person.

3) Create obstacles. And then more obstacles. The more conflict that you shove in your protagonist’s face, the more active they have to be in the story. It’s by actively making choices that someone begins to transform. Give your protagonist physical obstacles to overcome but also internal ones like doubt, regret, anger, confusion, lust, etc. 

4) Let them Fail. Overwhelm your character, push them to their limits, kick them when they’re low, make them feel like their heart will never heal… and then help them overcome the hardship. (Or not, if your story consists of a negative character arc). Regardless, failure is an important part of any story because no one is perfect and readers love seeing a protagonist overcome the impossible. Have your protagonist fail continuously throughout the story… big failures, little failures, half-failures… it all builds character.

5) Enhance their growth by having static characters in the story. Protagonists are typically dynamic characters which means they change throughout the story. It can be smart to contrast a dynamic character with a minor static/flat character who remains the same throughout the story. If two characters come from the same starting point but only one changes, the audience can see the growth that has really happened to them.

6) Give your character a past that they can overcome. A backstory, an origin, a past. We all start somewhere. The way we grew up undoubtedly shaped us into who we are today and it’s no different for a character. Whether your character comes from a backstory of hardships or privilege, you must know the reasons behind who they are at the start of your story. Then, you can start developing them… making them into a better or worse person.

For example, maybe your protagonist has a deathly fear of cars because of being in an accident as a child. Put them and a love interest in a car together or have them take walks by a highway late at night. Perhaps he even shows her what a car looks like under the hood and helps her to understand the safety features. This all develops your character into growing past their fear, which we understand because of their past.

7) Give your character’s flaws that are real. I don’t mean little flaws like being bad a math or extremely clumsy. While these are all aspects that are okay to give a character, your protagonist needs a more deep and intense obstacle to overcome. A werewolf who can’t control their anger and transforms sporadically. A cheerleader who shakes so badly from presentation anxiety that she risks dropping a teammate. These traits are realistic and relatable to the audience and can be overcome as the character develops, learns, and grows throughout the story.

Instagram: coffeebeanwriting

"Really, wings?"

The voice came out of nowhere, causing the hero- who had just taken off their overshirt to reveal said wings, to whirl around. It was who the easily recognizable voice belonged to; however, that really made their stomach plummet.

Their wings were so sore from being stuffed and folded beneath their costume. Luckily a large cape helped to hide the unnatural bulge of their back quite well. They ached to finally stretch out, but the hero pinned them to their back, hopelessly trying to undo the damage that had already been done. They sucked in a breath.

The villain tilted their head at the other's silence, taking a step forward. The hero mirrored with their own step back, causing them to bump into their dresser. Their hands fisted in their shirt, holding it up to their chest like they could hide behind it.

The villain's gaze, which had been... intrigued yet surgical, softened into something... something. They held up their hands, lifting the side of their coat with their elbow to reveal an empty belt, "Easy, I'm unarmed, I come in peace," their eyes drifted from the hero's face to over their shoulder, "If not... interest,"

why are you so angry grian (scarian vs pearl)

100% inspired by the severe brainrot this awesome fanart by @wasted-by-someone caused go show the artist all the love

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It felt like Grian’s soul was being torn in two. She held his strings of fate in her fingers, and she could play him like a fucking puppet. Sweat broke out on his brow as he struggled clawing at his chest in hopes of somehow being able to fight back, a twisted tug-of-war for his soul.

As Pearl had slipped into scarlet madness, she’d become a part of this game like nobody else ever had. She could see the threads, the ropes, be they fraying or steel, and she could reach out and touch them, grip them, pull them.

Grian’s throat made an incoherent guck sound as he fell forward into the dirt, clawing at the ground, scrabbling for a hold somewhere. 

He couldn’t let her do this.

He screamed in agony, spittle flying as he wrenched himself back, and somehow there was a glimmer of green, just a flash, and he grabbed for it wildly, his hands closing around something invisible but there, so unequivocally there, and it fucking hurt but it was his and he didn’t want to lose it…didn’t want to lose him…

“Why are you so angry, Grian?” Pearl’s voice was a low purr, but somehow it resonated in his ears, inside his head. “We both know you don’t want him.”

Another scream tore out of his throat, this one marred by tears, and he dug in his heels, his fists around the thin threat, fuck it was so thin it cut into the flesh of his palms.

Guilt twisted his guts cruelly, and he knew he deserved it. He continuously hurt the man he loved, over and over and over, and he couldn’t stop. They were cursed to do this dance forever, he was cursed to fiercely love Scar and then maim and kill him forever.

Them being soulbound was just fucking icing on the cake. Because every single decision he made affected Scar, he couldn’t avoid him this time, couldn’t just stay away. Their souls were linked.

He’d been weak, weak and upset, finding solace in the arms of another man. He cared for BigB but not like Scar.

He could never care for anyone like he cared for Scar.

Grian had convinced himself that this was why they were so toxic for each other, that he could just pretend and everything else would go away, just pretend for a little while.

But Scar had known. Of course he’d known. And instead of confronting him, instead of fighting him, he’d joined Pearl, resigning to his fate of being abandoned, unloved, forgotten.

“I’m setting you free, Grian.” Pearl barely seemed to be even trying, the thread twisted through her fingers like a child playing Cat’s Cradle. “And when he dies…and he will die long before you-”

“No!” he cried, a sob wrenching his chest as blood poured from his hands, soaking his forearms.

“He will.” Her crimson eyes sparkled with bloodlust in the moonlight, like laughing rubies. “He’s lost all his fight.”

No, Grian thought desperately, blinking rapidly, the tears like a waterfall now. Scar wouldn’t give up, he would never…

“He doesn’t believe he’s worth saving.” She yanked, and he fell, blood slick between his body and the grass. “You make him feel worthless.”

No… Still Grian fought, gripping the invisible thread, sobbing, the pain all-encompassing now, she was going to tear his soul free of his body and his heart would go with it and he would die, wouldn’t he? 

Because he couldn’t live without Scar.

That’s why this was the way it was.

Because back in the desert, in the end, they’d had to fight, and Scar had fallen, and Grian had been forced to live without him. He’d barely lasted five seconds.

He should have known then.

That they couldn’t survive apart.

Even then, their souls had been bound.

They always had been.

And now Pearl was trying to take him, forcibly rip him from Grian’s body.

“No!” His voice came out raw and deafening, and for the split second that she flinched in surprise, he launched to his feet, finding strength he hadn’t known he possessed.

He coiled the thread around his forearms, biting into more of his tender flesh, and hit Pearl like a ton of bricks. They both went down, but he made sure to get a fistful of her hair, exposing her throat as they tumbled through the grass. Somehow, he got the thread around her neck, pulling her back against his chest.

She didn’t flail. She didn’t thrash. She didn’t even try to dig her fingers beneath the string digging into her flesh.

“The humane thing to do would be to cut him loose.” She was so calm. “I’ll make it quick and painless for him.”

Grian’s green eyes hazed red, and he saw nothing but crimson. The thought of Pearl, bringing her axe down on Scar, and him unmoving, accepting his fate, letting himself die because he thought he wasn’t worth it-

He screamed, muscles taut, and the thread of his soulbond went lax as Pearl’s head rolled across the grass.

Grian blinked rapidly at her diembodied head, ruby eyes shining, the ghost of a smirk still on her dead lips, as if she were in on a secret.

“Why did you do that?” Scar.

Scar was here.

Grian dropped the invisible thread, and his chest throbbed as he scrabbled backwards in the grass.

“S-scar,” he stammered, voice hoarse, throat raw, as if he’d swallowed all the sand in the desert.

“Why did you do that?” Scar asked again, taking a step forward. He looked haunted, ghostly, his eyes wild and desperate.

Because you’re worth saving, Grian thought, but he couldn’t make his mouth move. Because you’re worth everything.

Scar pressed a hand to his own chest, palm flat, fingers splayed, as if he were trying to hold his heart together. “Why?” His throat was thick, on the verge of tears.

Grian couldn’t stand it. It was torture to watch Scar bleed, agony to watch him cry.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I don’t want to live without you. Please don’t make me live without you.”

As Scar’s eyes widened, Grian could feel the thread lift, as if it were tightening, strengthening. He couldn’t grab it anymore, but some how he knew that if he could, it would no longer be a thread, but a rope. He felt…anchored.

“I didn’t…I didn’t…” Scar stammered, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

Grian got to his feet slowly, as if moving through water, bringing his hands up to cup Scar’s face. “I’m so sorry. All I’ve ever done is hurt you.”

Scar shook his head, offering him a watery smile. “I’d rather it be me than you.”

Grian choked, blinking rapidly through salty tears. Was this where they were at? Scar didn’t want to see him hurt, so he just took the mistreatment so he had to shoulder the pain?

“We’re so fucked,” Grian breathed.

Scar let out a low chuckle, even as a tear streaked down his beautiful face. Grian brushed it away with his thumb, as if he could scrub the emotions away with his bare hands.

“But you love me,” Scar whispered, and it was almost a question, almost a breath of desperation, like he was waiting for the bubble to burst and all of this to be a lie.

Grian stared him straight in the eyes, pulling together all of his courage. The courage to hold his love close instead of pushing him away for fear of seeing him hurt. For fear of having to hurt him.

No more fear. He just wanted the other half of his soul to be here, with him, and he would murder anyone who threatened them.

“I love you,” he said, and the rope of their bond became diamond, solidifying and drawing them together, and when their lips met, it was as if the game had started all over again, as if the world were reborn, giving them a second chance, third chance, fourth chance, every chance.

Grian wasn’t going to waste this one.

[ao3]

I've already seen some artists and writers saying they will stop drawing Technoblade and not write about him now to respect him.

Don't.

This is how you not forget people. We, the community, are Technoblade's legacy. We are here to make sure he is never forgotten and to show our love for him.

Of course you should take a break when it's too much right now. But please don't stop drawing fanart of him. Don't stop writing about C!Technoblade. Don't stop writing sbi stories like passerine. (Unless the other sbi-members say they will uncomfortable about this now)

I am sure Technoblade loved this about us, he liked the fanart you all drew of him, his characters, his friends. I am sure he loved knowing what awesome stories people wrote about the Blood God who never dies.

We are the voices and we are here to make sure this legend will be remembered.

For the art request thing, perhaps an Etho?

he just like me fr (canadian)

+full under cut

The curse that comes with being immortal.

“That was my son,” Tears flew down the man’s face, gritting his teeth. His eye fell on his son's cold body once alive. And Techno is one step away–a word away, a plead away, but– "and that's my brother." a wicked smile blossomed on the man's face, "then i guess we're even then," the knife cuts excessively deep in Wilbur's throat, no chance of survival, the man drops his body. "NOOO!!!" Techno screams fall on deaf ears, he runs to Wilbur. “..Techno?...” Wilbur wheezes while coughing on his own blood, tears falling down his face, knowing these are his last moments alive.

Techno cradles his brother’s body, holding Will's face in his hands, “no, no, save your energy. You’ll be okay, you.. you have to be..” techno pleads as he can feel him losing the warmth in his body. It is like techno can hear the man's words, his meaning of doing this. "feel my pain," carries in the roaring wind.

All Wilbur can do is smile sadly and shake his head at him, coughing once more, he takes a shallow breath than gives his brightest smile and says “I love you” before breathing for his last time, looking into the eyes of his brother, forever and always.

If anyone saw the great Blood God crying, sobbing, into his brother’s chest, begging for it all to all be some sick twisted joke, praying and damning every god he called on for not saving his brother that today. They saw nothing. Well mainly because they didn’t live to tell of it, that was the day the Blood God closed his heart again, locking it behind a cage, planning to never open it again. It belonged to one; forever and always.