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And now a really lazy sapphic/ace Desta I threw together for pride

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Girl who is used to the controlled environments of stations and megacities gets marooned on a wasteland planet in the desert, immediately dies of heatstroke.

bonus for pride:

[a-house-of-crows]

[Sorry for inactivity, have a playlist in the meantime.]

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Passage into Leyndell required great runes carried by the lineage of Marika…

The cruel irony of it- that in order to reach the place she most desired meant the slaying of demigods. The task for which she had been made, had been trained her entire life, and had completely and utterly failed at. Not a single demigod had fallen by her own hand- or, in the least, none who were close enough to the origin to retain even a trace of divinity. The golden capital was beyond her reach then. Another roadblock in her path, another blow to her already miniscule confidence. 

If she were to unravel the secrets of the Night of Black Knives, it would have to be done with whatever information existed outside of the city. That information didn’t exist here with Heysel, it seemed. Desta had made a gamble with this encounter, wagered the reward would be worth the risk and bet on a losing hand. Once again, curiosity had gotten her nothing but trouble. What more could she pull from this conversation, from someone who had died long before the shattering, that would be of use to her now?

There is….a relaxing of her posture? A fleeing of tension, something that might imply some level of comfort has been reached in their interaction and Desta does not feel the need to be so on guard. In truth, she feels the grip of despair taking her now, a void as empty as that which made Heysel into the shape she is currently.

Still, an answer is owed. Even with her every failure crowding in around her, Desta still feels this obligation.

“I’m not Tarnished.” 

What would Heysel’s reaction be to this? Was being Tarnished a good thing in the void-faced creature’s mind? Would she be disappointed? Or angry? It really doesn’t matter. If Heysel wished to kill her for this at least it would grant her a brief moment of peace. 

“I’ve never known the gold of Grace, though…” More information given than was requested. Only a little, but still more. That protective barrier around her, that defensive shield, that knife held between them slipping a little more as the grip of her misery threatens to suffocate her. 

Why did she think she could do this? It really was folly to expect a different outcome. Of course she would fail, just as she always had.

This internal turmoil remained exactly that, internal. No obvious outward display could be seen on Desta’s features. No forlorn eyes, no sagging shoulder, no despondent sigh. All there was was that relaxing of posture. 

But no question followed. No inquiry for Heysel to answer. No request for knowledge. It would seem that curiosity had finally fled, not that something darker had taken hold.

Love knows it best: the less you are given something the more you desire it, and Heysel void-shaped, absence-anointed, who wears the nothing-skin of a thing inhuman, still feels that familiar slip of want as Desta gives back so little, so little. But they do give. It feels like a claw running slow down her carapaced nape. Thrilling. 

No titles, then. If there was importance in their blood they have long shed it. If they never had it, they are not seeing her ignorance as an opportunity to feign it. Notions to fold neat and small and then place away somewhere in her skull.

She nods. Then tilts her head at an angle uncomfortable to most at the mention of ghostflame.

“Oh! Oh oh oh. Aren’t we going around with peculiar weaponry,” she chirrups, delighted. Her good hand pats the nonresponding arm with some form of affection. The lacy sleeve of frost gloving it doesn’t lose a lone flake. “Mind me, I am no expert on the subject. I wouldn’t dare to say I know the essentials, even! But I see, now. I think I do. Forged in ghostflame.” The purple of her eyes, narrowing to mirthful slits. “I am no golden order cleric. Worry not. I shan’t hurl at you accusations of… heresy.”

A pause.

“Because it’s something quite ancient, is it not? Something that should not be in our prosperous times of endless plenty. Our undying, broken times. But I digress. Again, I lack expertise.”

True and true. The side of her that ever sniffs for the sweet coppery scent of any new lethal knowledge and knowledge of the lethal almost saddens at the idea of merely not asking so much as a question about it all- how has the weapon found itself in their hands, how do they know of how it was made, oh gods, so much that she could try to grasp and uproot out of the soil of their mouth- but they wouldn’t give her more, would they? Let them offer crumbs and let her tip their hand at her mouth to satiate herself upon them. It is fine. More urgent: the concession of spoken requests they have just handed. She straightens her spine. 

“You… ask something I cannot help you with, I fear. When I said I am old I truly meant it. I died before the Shattering. I died, as a matter of fact, not too after that first dread exile. When Tarnished were created. From what I've gathered, most people’s understanding of the details of that fateful night are slippery. Well. Mine’s even more so.”

She searches for Desta’s eyes, the strange hue of them. Glittering fishscales in deep black waters. She tries to scry beneath their surface for anything about the person wearing them, and does it so uselessly.

“As for Leyndell… Alas I cannot be of much aid with such thing too. I know two Great Runes are required. Which demand not just the slaying of two quasi-divine beings but the appropriate activation at their respective tower. A difficult feat. And before you consider it- I’m afraid the sorcery that allowed me to teleport to where you were would not be willing to let me past something closed by such strange divine means. The explanation of why is tedious and I shall spare it to you. Or not, if you so wish to hear it. Regardless.”

Something softer, in the featureless dark of her face.

“You know the question that follows now, yes? You know."

"I must ask why. You request things a Tarnished would. So now I ask- are you one? An undying soldier, on a quest to slay all and crown yourself lord and remake the world to your will? And I must ask: is it why you wish to learn more on the assassins that pared life from the body of a golden son?”

This is it. This is the imperative, the answer that changes all. If they are Tarnished or not. If they are aiming to kill god, or not.

If they are competition, or not.

[a-house-of-crows]

More Elden Ring Desta, this time by @nuclearloop!

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Actually did a mermay for once

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Another miscalculation…

This was why she so much more preferred her own company to that of others. She was bad at reading people, at predicting their reactions to her own actions or saying the right things to sway the conversation in the right direction. In fact, there seemed to be a direct correlation between Desta opening her mouth and things getting significantly worse. Back at the manor, she’d learned that keeping quiet usually spared her from a lot of unnecessary suffering. Apparently, that lesson still needed to be learned outside of the family home.

So then, if speaking was only causing her more problems, let silence be the answer. The only sound was that of her spirit knife returning to its place at her hip. She didn’t need it anyways. She would still have her claws and her teeth and her ghostflame. Some soft, defenseless thing she was not- she was full of sharpness and edges. 

And while she had chosen the path of silence for now, there were still things she would have liked to say. Words that writhed in the back of her mind, eager to escape- to make the situation worse, no doubt. Like, for example: would she have approached something making a strange sound down here in a catacomb where all sorts of creatures loved to lurk? No. She would have kept her guard up but otherwise gone about her own business unless the strange sound decided to become a problem. And if she had decided to do that, she certainly wouldn’t have stuck around after discovering that the sound wasn’t some tomb crawler but instead someone simply trying to have a meal. The bones around them taunted her, ghostflame still ravenous for its tinder.

On top of that, she felt that they had, in fact, threatened her, approaching with blade and staff drawn- refusing to put the former away when it became clear she wasn’t some mindless thing meandering about the crypt. Granted, it was sensible to remain armed now. Now that they knew she was a worse thing than the risen dead. Exactly how much did Ensha know, she wondered. Did he know what would happen if he tried to kill her here and now, if he successfully did so? Did he know about the monster he’d have to face then? Or did he just know her as a member of a demigod-slaying family? Did he even know that much….? He knew enough to consider her a threat at least. Something that seemed to be working against her at the moment.

Izar could see something shift in Desta before she heard her voice. A subtle straightening, a surge of confidence—as if a veil had been dropped. The words almost boomed in the chamber, the pale eyes fixed on Ensha—not many people had the nerve to try and stare him down.

It was this tone, more than the words themselves, that sent a shiver down Izar’s spine. At the same time, she could feel Ensha tense up even further—if that was possible—, picked up on the slightest shift of his weight, the way the fingers of his free hand twitched towards the other clinging bone on his hip. And still, the coldness of his dread.

He didn’t back off—he never did, especially not when he thought it necessary to shield her. Rather, everything about posture indicated that he was ready to pounce with the resolute despair of a cornered animal.

Quickly, Izar grabbed his right arm—the one already wielding his weapon—and didn’t mind his surprised flinching when she pulled him back to her side, fingers firmly closed around rusty metal and golden bone inlays. Ensha didn’t stumble, despite his apparent surprise, and she felt him strain against her grip, but not with as much resolve as he could have. It was a risky move, she knew—her clinging to his weapon arm, her own staff hastily slid into the leather sling on her shoulder. But as threatening as Desta seemed, she had also said that she wasn’t interested in a fight. Hopefully it was the truth.

‟I keep telling you that we aren’t interested in a fight, either,” she all but snapped at the stranger—so much for diplomacy. ‟Of course we approached with our weapons drawn. We heard a strange sound in a place like this. Don’t tell me you would have acted any differently.” Her fingers tightened around Ensha’s arm, and while she saw him carefully raising his free hand to sign something, she kept her focus on Desta. ‟We have done nothing to threaten you, so calm down.”

Sharpness in every word. It almost certainly wouldn’t help, but neither had her attempts at friendliness. And as desperately as Izar wanted to avoid a fight, as terrified as she was by the mere fact that this stranger’s name alone had managed to unsettle Ensha the way it had… Desta had crossed a line. Not simply by adopting a threatening stance, but by choosing to direct it at Ensha. Izar wouldn’t have it.

[a-house-of-crows]

Finished commission for @celestial-requiem of Desta!! Mysterious cool character in a dark ensemble?? YES PLEASE!! 😭💦🙏💖💕💖💕💖💖✨✨

[a-house-of-crows]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘, TRAITS & CHARACTERISTICS!  ↳ bold = applies to your muse;  italics = conditional.

EYES : blue  |  green |  brown  |  hazel  |  gray  |  gray-blue |  other

HAIR :  blond  |  sandy  |  brown |  black |  auburn  |  ginger  |  multi-color  |  other

BODY TYPE :  skinny  | slender  |  slim  |  built |  curvy  |  average  |  muscular |  pudgy  |  overweight  |  athletic

Much like her personality, she has a soft, squishy center

SKIN : pale  |  light  |  fair  |  freckled  | tan |  medium  |  dark  |  other

GENDER :  male  |  female  |  trans  |  cis  |  agender  |  demigender  |  genderfluid  |  other  

If you ask Desta what her pronouns are, she'll say she/her, but in all honesty she doesn't actually care that much and won't correct someone if they use other pronouns for her

SEXUALITY :  heterosexual  |  homosexual  |  bisexual  |  pansexual |  asexual  |  demisexual  |  other  |  unsure  |  doesn't think about it doesn’t care for labels

ORIENTATION :  homoromantic  |  heteroromantic  |  biromantic  |  unsure  |  doesn't think about it doesn’t care for labels  |  demiromantic

Maybe some day she'll have a reason to sit down and think about this stuff and come to some conclusions lmao

EDUCATION :  high school |  college  |  university |  master’s degree(s) |  PhD  |  other

She learns whatever her family deems is necessary for her to know. Anything else is self-taught.

I'VE BEEN :  in love  | hurt  |  ill |  mentally abused  |  bullied  |  physically abused  |  tortured |  brainwashed  |  shot | stabbed

You could argue the way everyone in her family is conditioned to be unquestioningly loyal and to give everything to the head of their house is a form of brainwashing....

POSITIVE TRAITS :  affectionate  |  adventurous  |  athletic  |  brave  |  careful  |  charming  |  confident  |  creative  |  cunning  |  determined  |  forgiving  |  generous  |  honest*  | humorous  |  intelligent  |  loyal  |  modest |  patient  |  selfless**  |  polite  |  down-to-earth |  diligent  |  romantic  |  moral  |  fun-loving |  charismatic  |  calm

She would never consider herself any of these things because there is nothing good about her, obviously. If you were every able to climb over the 900 walls she's built around herself, Desta is actually extremely affectionate and accidentally really romantic... *She's just not going to tell you the whole truth **To the detriment of her own wellbeing

NEGATIVE TRAITS : aggressive  |  bossy  |  cynical  |  envious  |  shy  |  fearful  |  greedy  |  gullible  |  jealous  |  impatient  |  impulsive  |  cocky  |  reckless  |  insecure  |  irresponsible  |  mistrustful  |  paranoid |  possessive  |  sarcastic |  self-conscious |  selfish  |  swears |  unstable  |  clumsy  |  rebellious  |  emotional  |  vengeful  |  anxious |  self-sabotaging  |  moody |  peevish  |  angry  |  pessimistic |  slacker  |  thin skinned  | overly dramatic  |  argumentative

LIVING SITUATION :  lives alone |  lives with parent(s) / guardian  |  lives with significant other  |  lives with a friend  |  drifter  |  homeless  | lives with children / family  |  other

Only recently evicted from the family home lol...

PARENTS / GUARDIANS : mother  |  father  |  adoptive  |  foster  |  grandmother  |  grandfather  |  other

SIBLING(S) : sister(s) |  brother(s) |  other  | none

RELATIONSHIP : single  |  crushing  |  dating  |  engaged  |  married  |  separated  |  it’s complicated |  verse dependent | none

I HAVE A(N) :  learning disorder  |  personality disorder  |  mental/mood disorder  |  anxiety disorder  |  sleep disorder  |  eating disorder  |  behavioral disorder  |  substance-related disorder  |  PTSD  |  mental disability  |  physical disability

THINGS I'VE DONE : had alcohol  |  smoked/hookah  |  stolen  |  done drugs   |  self-harmed  |  starved  |  had sex  |  had a threesome  |  had a one-night stand  |  gotten into a physical fight  |  gone to a hospital*  |  gone to jail  |  used a fake ID  |  played hooky  |  gone to a rave |  killed someone  |  had someone try to kill them.

*Or the closest you can get to a hospital in the Lands Between

Tagged by: @izar-tarazed & @yellowfingcr

Tagging: You 🫵

[a-house-of-crows]

Shaking off the rust, here’s some miserable girls

Desta is @a-house-of-crows

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Things are going pretty good, wouldn't you say @izar-tarazed, @yellowfingcr?

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Something akin to horror is expertly concealed, only revealed in the slant of her brows, the twitch of her mouth which can’t be seen. But her eyes cannot peel themselves away from the long, thin thing that snakes out of the nothingness that pretends to be a face and laps at bloodied claws like a butterfly at nectar. Again, she is reminded of certain individuals in her life with a penchant for cruelty and it does nothing to endear Heysel to her any. She’s beginning to regret letting herself be dragged into this game, letting the predator corner its prey.

And there are far too many questions.  What is that knife? Are you from Liurnia? Are you important? -that one is laughable, but this is one question Desta doesn’t intend to answer -Why are you wandering?

At least there is one answer she can easily give. “No title…” 

Even if she were still a true member of her house and not a fugitive of it instead, it would not grant her any titles, nor would she even use them if it had.

Another answer that doesn’t require much consideration. Desta looks to the black blade held before her, twisted handle gripped tightly still, then her eyes return to her conversational companion. “The blade was forged in ghostflame.”

The words, like most that leave her mouth, are brief and succinct. She only gives exactly as much as she must in order to get what she wants in return.

Something sticks in her mind then, holds her in silence for a moment to consider it. Green ground and sweet air. So, Heysel knew Caelid before the rot had taken it. Old indeed. Old enough to hold information that Desta covets, perhaps.

So then, another of Heysel’s questions to be answered, one that leads into Desta’s own questions. She could, of course, ask about the things that burned on the tip of her tongue, the new, fresh, more immediate questions about Heysel herself. About the wounded earth and dark light. But more important things need to be asked first. “I’m looking for information on the Night of Black Knives. And the assassins that conducted it…If you know anything.”

It feels as if she should stop there. She’d given her answers and made her request for information, now it is Heysel’s turn to reciprocate. That’s how these exchanges of information were supposed to go, right? A back and forth, one piece of knowledge requested and then transferred at a time. Except, that is not how this transaction is going. Heysel didn’t abide by these socially constructed rules. She asked as many questions as she pleased. Why shouldn’t Desta do the same?

“....And if you know nothing of that…then perhaps a means to safely enter the city of Leyndell.”

So the stranger knows how to hurt and does it well. So the stranger knows how to hurt, and does it well. Ah. Heysel, aware that she clutches in her grip not one truth about them, is regardless inclined to draw a thin invisible thread connecting both of them to one another, in measure, in worth. Certainly, privately, within the dark confines of her skull a small candle short as breath is lit for this nameless cloaked person, as one does with saints, because- do not they deserve it? 

Behold their dignity. Preyed upon- folly to name what she’s been doing to them anything else- and still unflinching. Threatened- they are not so innocent to the world to believe one single word about her good will, and rightly so- and yet undaunted. Not a lone action or word of theirs has so far volunteered anything of them except wounds. Owned, and given. They are a blade.

Awe tickles her palate. It makes her hungry, in an awful carnivore way, the way that longs to lunge, break, sort verity from veins in the wetness of remains. But it is merely temptation. She needn't listen to it, and she does not.

“Such are the terms you have set. We barter in answers, then.” Behind the voidling her four long tails fan out like a drowned woman’s hair, gently coiling upward, underwater’s iridescence across them. “Desta.” A moment, as if to taste the letters. “A pleasure to meet you. You’re phenomenal with a killing edge. Your motions speak of experience. What was that weapon? I am curious.” Around the useless arm her grip loosens, then releases, with delicate care, as if concerned that a minimal reverberation might shatter it. So left alone the limb remains rictus-still. 

Pensively her face peels open, like a flowering, and a long slick tongue the same shade of her iris slithers out of the dark to lap at what of her own blood has congealed about her working hand's claws.

“House Lemures… it does remind me of something. Please forgive my lack of- immediate recollection, if that’s something you should be owed. I’m rather old. Hmmm.” The tongue crawls back to the shadow. The face, languidly, furls shut. “Liurnia, perhaps? Am I making a fool of myself? I might. That is all I can connect to your name. But am I wrong in assuming you are a person of a certain importance? Belonging to a House, nonetheless. Worry not. I shan’t try to kidnap you for coin next.” Mirth, glittering in her eyes. “Do inform me if you would like specific titles to address you with. I am not afraid of making up for my own ignorance. And, just in case you’ve wondered, none are to be used with me. I’m only Heysel.”

Her wounded arm laments nothing of worth, and answers to no command. Such irritating indifference from something supposed to be hers. Beneath the hood comes the stray thought of ripping it off clean at the shoulder.

“Allow me to trade a location in turn, before I ask what I desire. I was born and raised in Sellia, held within Caelid’s palm. The ground was green, and the air was sweet.”

“So. Desta, knife-quick. What sorts of questions have you wandering around so?”

[a-house-of-crows]

What is something about your OC can make you laugh? 

What is something about your OC can make you cry?

 Is there some element you regret adding to your OC or their story? 

(Sorry I've been pretty dead over here, but i saw you reblogged this and wanted to swing in)

-What is something about your OC can make you laugh? 

Desta is such a somber, melancholy character that there's not a whole lot about her that's necessarily funny. That being said, her social ineptitude can be pretty amusing some times, especially when she's actually trying to be nice or, better yet, trying to figure out if she has feelings for someone. Girl had to ask several people and read a few books about romance to come to the conclusion that she was probably crushing on someone in the D&D game jgkskf

-What is something about your OC can make you cry?

Her self loathing. Her belief that she doesn't deserve anything good, that she herself isn't good enough for anything, that she's only really valuable as a means to an end, a tool. It can lead her down some very dark paths, if she doesn't have the right people in her life to guide her.

-Is there some element you regret adding to your OC or their story? 

Honestly, if I don't like it, I retcon it. Desta has had so many siblings who were supposed to be significant in her life that just didn't serve the purpose they were originally made for any more, so they've been set aside for the time being. I've made a lot of changes to the Lemures as a whole throughout the years as each new piece of media I decide to shove them into shapes them into something slightly different. The one thing I some times do regret is not making them vultures instead of crows. I'm happy with the crow theme for the most part, but vultures could have been really fun too...

[a-house-of-crows]

@yellowfingcr blessed me with a beautiful Desta doodle🥺

[a-house-of-crows]

1- What was the first element of your OC that you remember considering (name, appearance, backstory, etc.)? 

3- How did you choose their name? 

12- What have you found to be most difficult about creating art for your OC (any form of art: writing, drawing, edits, etc.)? 

1- What was the first element of your OC that you remember considering (name, appearance, backstory, etc.)?

So, fun fact, the Lemures as a whole started out as assassin bugs. They were going to be the antagonists for my PC in a Holloe Knight inspired tabletop game but it never happened. So, the first thing I considered for the family was their relationship with that character.

As for Desta specifically, I think it was a design. I was trying to develop a few individuals from the family but didn't have any ideas on personalities, so I looked up various assassin bugs to get design ideas. She was based mostly on the masked assassin bug.

3- How did you choose their name?

Fantasy name generator lmao...Just kept randomizing until I got something I liked the sound of. I didn't even think to look at see if it was a real name with an actual meaning until years later (turns out, it is).

Lemures came about much later. I can't remember how I came across the word and its meaning, but by then they were full blown Hollow Knight OCs and I recall really liking how the word might be derived from larvae, meaning mask (which has some significance in HK) and being the modern word for some young bugs.

12- What have you found to be most difficult about creating art for your OC (any form of art: writing, drawing, edits, etc.)?

Do the performing arts count? Because playing her in the in-person (not) D&D games can be challenging at times. I am often holding things up as I try to figure out what she might say to any given situation. Which, is in character for her in this universe, honestly, but my DM does get a little impatient with it some times lol

[a-house-of-crows]

Ah. She’d miscalculated, counted too much on her family’s seclusion and the secrecy they usually operated with to keep their name from these strangers’ knowledge. Intriguing that it wasn’t the- assumedly -well-read mage who recognized the house. Instead, it was the silent skeleton, speaking in his strange hand gestures, who knew- at least to some degree -what her family was. This Ensha…who exactly was he?

Regardless of who he was, his reaction afforded Desta a rare moment of confidence, feeling at last like she might be the bigger threat in this room. Ironic, considering she really had no claim to that name any more, that she was the one who had cast it aside- though it could be argued that they had been the ones to discard her long ago... 

But if it gave her the upperhand in this moment, she would play the part. She would be a Lemures again. And she would pretend that some small part of her didn’t wish it were true. The blade lowered and she stood a little taller, staring directly into the voids of Ensha’s empty eye sockets with a look that was cold and just as empty.

“Remember that you are the ones who approached me with weapons drawn…” Projecting her voice had never been easy , but the chamber did a surprisingly good job of making her low, monotonous drone seem bigger than it really was. “I’m not interested in a fight, but know that if you persist it will not end well for you.”

A truth, but the kind of truth where important details were omitted. A craft she had honed quite well. Outright lying she couldn’t master, but giving just enough information to lead the listener to reaching the conclusions she wanted them to was much easier. So, yes, things wouldn’t end well for Ensha and Izar if they chose conflict. The information she neglected to provide was that it would have to end badly for Desta first before the odds turned in her favor, or that the confined space might make things very complicated, or that it would be extremely inconvenient for her afterwards, if things were to go in that direction. But if they did, at least she would be surrounded by the remains of the long dead to hasten her recovery.

Izar knew she wasn’t exactly knowledgeable when it came to the houses and families that might once have held power in the Lands Between. She knew a couple of names, lost breadcrumbs here and there—Hoslow, Marais. It wasn’t too surprising that she had never heard the name Lemures.

But Ensha—

He froze. Then straightened with a jerk and took one step in front of her again while his free hand came up, shoving her back a little more, shielding her. Bristling. But what really caught her off guard was the sudden sense of dread emanating from him. Ensha never dreaded anything. She had seen him face dangers and predicaments of all kinds, and while there sometimes was unease, maybe even a flicker of panic when a challenge seemed too great—she had never before felt this from him. In the face of danger, Ensha was usually wary and furious and coldly strategic, sometimes all at once, but he never truly feared.

Now he did.

She could tell his focus on the stranger—Desta—was now newly sharpened, his fingers curled around the clinging bone even tighter than before. However, there was a crack in his confidence, obvious for Izar even through his aggressive stance.

‟Desta,” she muttered. The A pleasure to meet you sat on the tip of her tongue, but after Ensha’s reaction, not only did it ring too hollow—she couldn’t bring herself to say it at all. ‟I’m afraid I don’t know of your house.”

The truth, although she doubted Desta would be inclined to tell her more, taciturn as she seemed to be. But maybe Ensha would share what he knew. Not that his reaction wasn’t already telling enough.

He barely turned as he signed to her, They are best left alone. Alarm in every movement of his fingers, the usually swift gestures now slightly slowed by a tension that was unusual even for him. He hesitated, then added with urgency, Stay behind me.

She stared at his hand even as it stopped signing, then back at Desta. The echo of Ensha’s dread clung to her like cold mist, intense enough that she could almost have mistaken it for her own emotions, but she knew it wasn’t—not yet. Right now, Izar was confused, and—for once—at a loss for words.

[a-house-of-crows]

Questions About Creating Your OCs

‘Cause sometimes the stories of how OCs come to be are just as interesting as the OCs, themselves. Tell me how your virtual kids came into the world.

What was the first element of your OC that you remember considering (name, appearance, backstory, etc.)? 

Did you design them with any other characters/OCs from their universe in mind? 

How did you choose their name? 

In developing their backstory, what elements of the world they live in played the most influential parts? 

Is there any significance behind their hair color? 

Is there any significance behind their eye color? 

Is there any significance behind their height? 

What (if anything) do you relate to within their character/story? 

Are they based off of you, in some way? 

If they have an LI, how much of their character is tailored to be compatible to that person? 

Did you know what the OC’s sexuality would be at the time of their creation? 

What have you found to be most difficult about creating art for your OC (any form of art: writing, drawing, edits, etc.)? 

How far past the canon events that take place in their world have you extended their story, if at all? 

If you had to narrow it down to 2 things that you MUST keep in mind while working with your OC, what would those things be? 

What is something about your OC can make you laugh? 

What is something about your OC can make you cry? 

Is there some element you regret adding to your OC or their story? 

What is the most recent thing you’ve discovered about your OC? 

What is your favorite fact about your OC?