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valarltd27. Along similar lines, do appearances play a big role in your stories? Tell us about them, or if not, how you go about designing your characters.
Appearances play varying roles. Sometimes someone will fall madly in lust at first sight, based solely on appearances.
When the driver stepped around the hood, I just stared. He wasn't as tall as I am, but he was nicely built, his muscles showing through the tight black t-shirt he wore. His black cowboy boots clacked against the pavement and I found myself checking the package in his black jeans, under the skull-and-crossbones belt buckle. But it was his long, rectangular face that got me. He had a long nose and one of those sexy goatees a lot of guys wear, but he didn't show the wear and tear that my own middle-aged mug had accumulated
He gave me a wink and a wicked grin and I was lost in lust. A wink. Nobody winked anymore. That had gone out with my
I watched his ass, his perfectly curved ass, as he climbed aboard and pulled off the fuel island. I filled my tanks, barely noticing when the latches clicked, signaling they were full. I was too busy imagining running my fingers through that shoulder-length black hair and kissing that whiskered mouth.
(Side note, that driver is real. I saw him at a TA in Arkansas and my reaction was the same as the narrator's)
Sometimes, appearances are more than just description, they clue other characters in to important facts
“You are one of the Pack. I’d wondered.” He caught one of my hands. “It’s written right here.” He laid a finger across my fingertips, reminding me I have really weird hands and the index and middle fingers were the same length. “I can smell that you’re still wondering. Look at me.”
“All I see is a really pretty Italian boy in my bed. Not everyone can carry a unibrow, but it’s a good look on you. Keeps you from being too girly looking.” I licked the place where his eyebrows met above his nose, then pulled him around onto my lap for another kiss. “I know all the marks. I’ve done my reading. Growing up lycanthropic isn’t a picnic.”
“I know.” He kissed me back. “How old were you the first night you changed?”
“Fourteen.” His ears under the thick hair were just a tad pointed. My own were round. I played with the point a little.
Other times, they play no role at all (blind vampire, anyone?)
Appearances play varying roles. Sometimes someone will fall madly in lust at first sight, based solely on appearances.
When the driver stepped around the hood, I just stared. He wasn't as tall as I am, but he was nicely built, his muscles showing through the tight black t-shirt he wore. His black cowboy boots clacked against the pavement and I found myself checking the package in his black jeans, under the skull-and-crossbones belt buckle. But it was his long, rectangular face that got me. He had a long nose and one of those sexy goatees a lot of guys wear, but he didn't show the wear and tear that my own middle-aged mug had accumulated
He gave me a wink and a wicked grin and I was lost in lust. A wink. Nobody winked anymore. That had gone out with my
I watched his ass, his perfectly curved ass, as he climbed aboard and pulled off the fuel island. I filled my tanks, barely noticing when the latches clicked, signaling they were full. I was too busy imagining running my fingers through that shoulder-length black hair and kissing that whiskered mouth.
(Side note, that driver is real. I saw him at a TA in Arkansas and my reaction was the same as the narrator's)
Sometimes, appearances are more than just description, they clue other characters in to important facts
“You are one of the Pack. I’d wondered.” He caught one of my hands. “It’s written right here.” He laid a finger across my fingertips, reminding me I have really weird hands and the index and middle fingers were the same length. “I can smell that you’re still wondering. Look at me.”
“All I see is a really pretty Italian boy in my bed. Not everyone can carry a unibrow, but it’s a good look on you. Keeps you from being too girly looking.” I licked the place where his eyebrows met above his nose, then pulled him around onto my lap for another kiss. “I know all the marks. I’ve done my reading. Growing up lycanthropic isn’t a picnic.”
“I know.” He kissed me back. “How old were you the first night you changed?”
“Fourteen.” His ears under the thick hair were just a tad pointed. My own were round. I played with the point a little.
Other times, they play no role at all (blind vampire, anyone?)
