How the fuck do you write dialogue for different characters? It’s so hard to make their different personalities shine. I feel like all of my ocs have the same personality lol
Hey! I totally get that frustration. When you’re staring at a blank page, it’s easy for every character to start sounding like a carbon copy of your own internal monologue. For me, the secret is finding the rhythm of the soul behind the words.
I tend to treat my fanfiction with the same technical rigor as my published work since FWC is my life's work (started the original Bianca when I was 17 in 1997), so I’m a bit of a stickler for linguistic consistency. Whether it's an OC like Mordecai, who carries the archaic, predatory elegance of a Roman-era vampiric incubus, or a canon powerhouse like Sephiroth, you have to treat their voice like a unique musical instrument.
Writing dialogue isn't just about what they say. It's about the cadence, the sentence structure, and the weight of their presence. I spend an obscene amount of time—honestly, over 10k hours invested in the OG and even more in the rest of the Compilation—just listening to sound files and analyzing speech patterns. For canon characters, I actually keep save files on my PS5 at specific story beats in Remake and Rebirth just to hear the shift in Sephiroth or a character's delivery in the story. You have to learn the rules of their voice before you can play with them in your own stories.
To show you exactly how I navigate these different frequencies, I’m going to use three specific fics I’ve written as examples throughout my explanation: Lanterns over Rinnos, Fragments of a Broken Man, and The Dream that Never Dies.
Cadence
Characters don’t just speak. They project their standing in the world. Pre-Nibelheim Sephiroth has a voice rooted in professional and a bit of his traumatic past. It’s calm, authoritative, but still grounded in a human connection. Post-Nibelheim, Jenova’s influence creates a grandiose and cryptic quality.
The more his god complex grows, the more he speaks in abstracts and riddles. When he tells Bianca, "I am the key. And you, my love, you are the lock," in The Dream that Never Dies, he isn't just talking. He’s orating. He uses metaphors because, in his mind, he has transcended literal, mortal speech. This is my direct analysis of his character based on his Japanese pronoun switching from 'ore' to 'watashi' and then back to 'ore' at the end of Remake.
To apply this to your OCs, ask yourself:
Does this character feel superior, inferior, or equal to the person they are talking to?
A character with a high status or a complex ego will use longer, more flowery sentences or rarely interrupt themselves.
Conversely, a character who is grounded or lower in status might use clipped sentences or more informal slang. Notice how Bianca, despite being a goddess in the FWC universe, often speaks with a raw, 1990s-informed directness compared to Sephiroth’s ethereal droning. This contrast was chosen deliberately to make their personalities pop.
Era Markers
Voice is often a product of the time and place the character originates from. Since I write Bianca as someone who lived through the 1990s, her internal and external dialogue carries that specific flavor—even when she's in a fantasy setting. It’s subtle, but it grounds her.
In Lanterns over Rinnos, her interactions are warm and modern, focusing on emotional intimacy. Contrast that with an OC like Mordecai, my ancient incubus. If a character is ancient, their sentence structure should feel heavy. I accomplish this with Mordecai by using more formal, Latinate vocabulary to reflect his Roman roots.
If your OCs all sound the same, try giving them Forbidden Words or Signature Syntax. Maybe one character never uses contractions (like "do not" instead of "don't") because they are formal or non-human. Maybe another uses specific slang that feels unique to their background.
When Bianca tells Sephiroth, "You’ll freeze before you admit you’re cold," it’s a very human, grounded way of speaking that emphasizes her role as his emotional anchor in the Redemption!AU.
Let Silence and Action Speak
Dialogue isn't just the words in quotes. Ut’s the way the character breathes between the lines. Sephiroth’s voice is defined as much by his unreadable silences as it is by his words.
In Lanterns over Rinnos, his response to a snowball isn't a witty quip. It’s a slow, deliberate turn and a faint, awkward smile. This tells the reader everything they need to know about his internal struggle to reconnect with his humanity without him having to say a single word.
For your characters, think about their body language and quirks. Does your OC fidget while they talk? Do they stare intensely like a predator, or do they look away? Those are questions I always ask when I write post-Fall Bianca.
In Fragments of a Broken Man, Bianca uses her wings and her physical presence to manipulate the Remnants. When she calls Loz baby and cradles his jaw, that action reinforces her motherly (albeit manipulative) dialogue, so she can help lead the Remnants towards the Second Reunion, securing the return of Sephiroth.
If you describe the way they deliver the line—the sneer, the hesitation, etc—the personality will shine through even if the words themselves are simple.
Differentiate Through Motivation (Why is my character doing this)
Every character wants something from a conversation. Sephiroth speaks to Cloud to provoke hatred. He speaks to Bianca with gentleness and reverence, mimicking how he spoke to Jenova and stroke her tank during the Nibelheim Incident.
In The Dream that Never Dies, his dialogue is described as a vise tightening. It’s predatory and possessive. He isn't just sharing information. He’s trying to reclaim his Queen and turn her into what he needs her to be to survive what is coming: growth through pain is very much his thing at this point in Sephiroth's story. Every line he speaks is designed to break her resolve.
When you write, ask yourself: "What is this character trying to do to the other person with this sentence?"
If your OCs feel identical, it’s likely because they all have the same goal in the scene. Try giving them conflicting motivations. One character might want to de-escalate with humor, while another wants to maintain control through intimidation.
For example, in Fragments of a Broken Man, Kadaj’s voice is sharp and defensive because he’s protecting, while Bianca is warm because she’s playing a role to gain their loyalty. Those different whys naturally create different hows in their speech.
The "Read Aloud" Technique
This is my holy grail. I always read my work out loud during the editing phase. If I’m writing Sephiroth, I’m listening for that specific cadence I’ve memorized from the games. If a line feels too fast or too chatty, I know it’s not him.
Use resources like WikiQuote to study the literal sentence structures of canon characters. Do they use a lot of commas? Do they end on high notes or low notes? For example, Post-Nibelheim Sephiroth often uses "very good" or "I see": short, patronizing affirmations that reinforce his position as a master over a puppet.
When you read your OCs' dialogue out loud, try to give them different vocal placements.
If you can’t hear the difference when you speak their lines, your readers won't be able to hear it when they read. Practicing the cadence of characters like the Remnants—Loz’s childlike simplicity versus Kadaj’s desperate fury—will help you develop the ear for your own original cast.
Keep at it. I like to think writing is a muscle that only gets stronger with training.
Fantasy Worlds Taglist: (+ / -) please let me know if you would like to be added or removed from the list by a DM or an ask.
Good morning or evening, my friend. I hope you had a wonderful day.
I am going to break down my advice to cover both plotters and pantsers so you can find the method that fits your style. Plotters are writers who prefer to outline and plan their story structure before they begin, while pantsers, or discovery writers, prefer to fly by the seat of their pants and find the story as they write. Understanding these terms helps you decide whether you need a detailed roadmap or the freedom to let the characters lead the way. Every author comes in a different shape. Not everyone is a panter and not everyone is a plotter. Some are in between the two terms.
Writing the beginning of a story is like setting the foundation for a house. If the footings are uneven, the whole structure will eventually lean. When you start, you are not just introducing characters but establishing a contract with your reader about what kind of experience they are in for.
Whether you are working on a Final Fantasy VII fan fiction or an original grimdark novel, the first few pages must provide enough friction to grab interest without overwhelming the reader with world-building or backstory.
The goal of a strong opening is to establish the status quo and then immediately threaten it. You want to drop the reader into a moment of transition where the protagonist’s world is about to change forever. This is the hook that keeps people turning pages. It is not about the biggest explosion or the flashiest magic; it is about creating a sense of curiosity that can only be satisfied by reading the next chapter.
The Inciting Incident
The beginning of your story exists to move the protagonist from their normal life into the conflict. As a plotter, I find it helpful to identify the specific event that makes it impossible for the character to go back to how things were.
In a fan fiction context, this might be the moment a SOLDIER receives a corrupted file or a Turk finds themselves in a sector they were forbidden to enter. This event needs to happen early so the reader understands the stakes and the direction of the narrative.
For those who prefer a discovery writing or pantsing approach, focusing on the character's internal reaction to this event is key. You might not know the ending yet, but you should know how the character feels about the disruption. The opening paragraphs should establish a clear voice and a specific problem.
Even if the larger plot is still a mystery to you, giving the character a concrete, immediate goal will provide the momentum needed to carry the story through the first act.
Strategic setting and canon compliance
Deciding how to handle the setting is a major part of the planning process, especially in fandom. If you are writing a canon-compliant piece, the beginning needs to ground the reader in familiar territory while offering a fresh perspective. You should focus on sensory details that evoke the atmosphere of Midgar or the surrounding Gaia (FF7) without wasting time on descriptions the audience already knows. The setting should feel like a living participant in the story rather than a static backdrop.
If you are transforming the setting or building an original world, the beginning must establish the rules of the environment quickly. You have to show the reader how the world works through the character's daily struggles.
Instead of explaining the political system or the mechanics of magic, show a character interacting with those elements. This allows the reader to learn the lore naturally as the plot moves forward, preventing the narrative from stalling due to heavy exposition.
Dynamic character voice and moral shifts
Maintaining a canon character's voice requires a deep understanding of their linguistic habits and core values, but it is a mistake to treat them as static icons.
To keep a character like Cloud or Sephiroth feeling authentic, you must start with their established baseline—their vocabulary, personality, their level of stoicism, or their specific dry wit—and then allow the plot to apply pressure. Character development is the process of that voice changing over time as the character is forced to adapt to new circumstances and interpersonal influences.
I remember ten years ago when I stumbled upon a Dungeons and Dragons article, which really resonated with me as an author. Real growth often happens through the friction of conflicting worldviews, such as a disciplined, Lawful Good paladin traveling alongside a morally Neutral thief. The paladin might start the journey with an unyielding sense of justice, but through constant exposure to the thief’s pragmatism, their rigid lines may begin to blur.
Conversely, the neutral character might start to internalize the paladin’s code, finding themselves acting altruistically for the first time. If the characters do not influence one another’s perspectives, they are not truly interacting. They are just standing next to each other.
Trope integration and reader expectations
The tropes you choose will dictate the tone of your opening. If you are writing a slow-burn romance or a hurt/comfort fic, the beginning should focus on the emotional distance or the specific vulnerability of the characters.
These genres require a different kind of tension than a high-stakes action plot. You are setting the emotional stakes, showing the reader exactly what is missing from the character's life so they will be invested in seeing that void filled.
In original fiction or more plot-driven fan works, tropes act as shorthand to help the reader orient themselves. Using a familiar framework allows you to spend more time on character development and unique plot twists.
You should be mindful of how you introduce these elements. They should feel like an organic part of the character's journey rather than a checklist of genre requirements. By understanding the expectations of your specific sub-genre, you can craft an opening that feels both satisfying and unpredictable.
Mapping the narrative arc for consistency
Planning the start of the story requires looking ahead to the middle and the end. As a plotter, I ensure that the first chapter contains the seeds of the eventual resolution. This might be a subtle character flaw that needs to be overcome or a minor detail that becomes vital later on. This level of preparation ensures that the beginning feels intentional and that every scene is pulling its weight toward the larger goal.
If you lean more toward pantsing, use the beginning to explore the boundaries of your concept. Write several versions of the first scene to see which one has the most energy. You can always go back and refine the opening once you have finished the first draft and understand where the story ended up.
The most important thing is to get the character moving and the conflict started, as the momentum you build in the first few pages will sustain you through the difficult middle sections of the writing process.
Thank you for sending in this question, my friend. I hope this helps you find the right footing for your story and gives you the confidence to start writing.
Remember that the beginning is just the doorway. Once you walk through it, the real adventure of discovery and character growth begins. Every word you put down brings you closer to understanding the world and the people you are creating. Happy writing!
I just saw a post come across my dash talking about setting? So, I want to add my own thoughts to it.
Many writers think of setting as a static backdrop: a village, a city, or a battlefield. But setting is far more than geography. It shapes tone, reflects emotion, and even acts on your characters in subtle ways. In fiction, where characters go and how spaces feel can carry as much narrative weight as their actions.
Emotional Amplifier: Setting can heighten what a character feels. A sunlit meadow might contrast inner despair, or a crumbling city can mirror hopelessness. In my recent drabble, the “world kept breathing like nothing sacred had shattered” isn’t just description. It’s grief made spatial.
Character Interaction: Places influence behavior. A crowded tavern will make your character anxious, while a deserted forest might embolden them. Think of it as environmental psychology. Where someone is shapes how they move, think, and react.
Storytelling Economy: In short forms like drabbles, setting can convey backstory, relationships, and stakes without explicitly stating them. One line about a room, a touch, or a weather condition can do the work of paragraphs.
Setting is active. It is not passive. It’s a tool for mood, tension, and empathy. Treat it as an emotional partner to your characters, not just a scenic stage.
Do you have any tips for writing ~spicier~ scenes? For some reason they make me feel super embarrassed and I can't do them even if they're just for me. And I feel like they always sound stupid when I try.
(This may have been spurred by a dream I had where Azaela was in a polycule with AGS that I can't stop thinking about 😶)
Hey there, Synth. Hope your having a good day or night.
Oh, I completely feel this in my soul! It is so incredibly normal to get hit with a wave of embarrassment when trying to write spicy scenes. Honestly, even when it’s just for your own eyes, there is this weird mental hurdle where it feels like your own brain is judging you.
I actually used to only write the smut I uploaded with my husband, so striking out and writing the spicy stuff entirely for myself has been a whole new territory. When I upload things to AO3, I literally have to log off and walk away from the computer for a while just to escape the exposure anxiety and embarrassment. So please know you are not alone, and your feelings are totally valid.
Also... a polycule dream with Azaela and the AGS?! Absolutely iconic. Honestly, your subconscious is giving you excellent material, and it deserves to see the light of day!
If explicit anatomical terms or action-by-action descriptions are making you cringe, zoom in on the sensory details instead. What does the room sound like? (Heavy breathing, a rainstorm outside, sheets rustling?) What does the other person smell like?
Focus entirely on touch—a hand tracing a spine, the heat of skin, or the feeling of a racing pulse. Writing the anticipation and the sensory atmosphere is incredibly hot and usually feels much more natural to write.
You don’t have to jump straight into the deep end. Try writing a scene that builds up incredible tension—heavy kissing, intense dialogue, lingering glances—and then let it fade to black right as things cross the line. Once you get comfortable writing the high-intensity buildup, you might find your comfort zone naturally expanding a few sentences further next time.
When you get to a part that makes you blush or feel silly, don't let it stop your momentum. Literally write [insert sexy thing here] or [they do the deed] and just keep writing the emotional aftermath or the cuddling. Separating the plot/emotion from the mechanics can take the pressure off. You can always go back and fill in the blanks later!
Sometimes a change of scenery tricks your brain into letting go of inhibition. Write it in a hidden note on your phone while sitting somewhere mundane, or change your document font to something ridiculous like Comic Sans. It sounds silly, but it makes the text feel less permanent and less serious, which helps silence the inner critic. I write my sex scenes in Lara's Letters (which is a loopy script font) before I change it back to Sitka in Scrivener.
Every writer's first pass at a spicy scene sounds a little mechanical or awkward. It's just a byproduct of trying to coordinate body parts in text! Give yourself permission to write the absolute worst, most ridiculous version of it first. No one ever has to see it but you.
Your muse had a fantastic idea with that dream, and you absolutely have it in you to write it. Start small, focus on the vibes, and give yourself some grace! You've got this. turn off your brain's judgmental filter and just have some fun with it!
I have been reviewing some of the additional steps for the Leviathan / Snowflake Method. Especially the Character Synopsis. It has you do the following:
Write a character synopsis that tells the story from the POV of the character.
For major characters: You are to write one page or 600 words.
For minor characters: You are to write a half a page or 300 words.
It really helps to get a writer out of the God's eye view of the plot and place them into the headspace of the cast.
One of my ocs is an alien, like an alien from another reality and I made sure to make her biology different but I don’t know how to write her. She’s very benevolent gentle and mature but she will also sacrifice herself (she’s immortal) to protect her loved ones and is not a pushover. But I don’t know how to write an alien being, like her perception of reality is different but I don’t know how to make her feel alien. How do you write an alien without making them feel human?
Writing an alien character is such a fun challenge because you have to balance their heart with the fact that their brain simply does not work like ours. It is awesome that you have the biology down, but the real magic happens in the perspective.
When I was developing Bianca, I had to really sit down and think about how to show her as a cosmic horror without just saying she was scary. I had to look at how a creature from outside our reality would actually process a room or a conversation.
To make your character feel truly alien, you should lean into the idea that she does not prioritize information the same way humans do. Humans are very social and verbal, but an immortal alien might find those things secondary to vibrations, patterns, or ancient cycles.
An alien might not look at a person's face to see if they are lying. She might listen to the rhythm of their pulse or notice how the air displacement around them shifts. Because your OC is benevolent and gentle, her alien nature can come across as a kind of detached, heavy grace. She isn't being rude. She just perceives things on a scale humans cannot grasp.
When writing Bianca, I often use her bird-like and reptilian instincts to pull her away from being too human. She does not just sit in a chair. She perches. She doesn't just look around. She freezes in jarring bursts of stillness that feel unnatural to anyone watching. You can do the same with your character. For example, maybe she stands too still, or her eyes track movement in a way that suggests she is seeing the heat coming off a body rather than the clothes they are wearing, since she is an alien.
Since she is immortal and willing to sacrifice herself, her view on death is probably very different from ours. To a human, dying is the end. To her, it might just be a temporary inconvenience or a change in state. You can show her alien nature by having her treat her own safety with a casualness that is actually disturbing to her loved ones.
Don't feel like she has to explain everything with words. You mentioned she is mature and gentle, so her alienness can manifest in a quiet, observant way. Use her body language to show her internal state.
I hope this helps you get into her headspace! It sounds like you have a really beautiful character concept, and finding those small, non-human details will really make her shine.
Thank you for the question, and I hope you have a great day.
🌒 — Nicole
The Lunar Eclipse System 🌒 | 🌿🦴 | 🖤🕷 | 🔥⚔️ | 🐶☕ Written Musings — A sanctuary where the truth is told with the weight it deserves.
The phrase “write what you know” gets tossed around like gospel, but honestly? It’s more limiting than liberating. Not everyone wants to write about their hometown, their trauma, or their day job. Not everyone sees themselves reflected in mainstream storytelling, and that doesn’t mean they’re doing it wrong.
So, my challenge as an author to another author is this 'let’s reframe the idea'. Writing isn’t about staying in your lane. It’s about expanding your world until it feels like home. Here's a better guide to what it actually means to write with truth, power, and imagination: one that I follow religiously.
Write What You Feel.
Start there. Start with the gut. Writing from raw emotion doesn’t require a PhD or a memoir-worthy life. You don’t need to have lived the exact experience to write grief, longing, love rage, or euphoria.
Emotions are universal even when circumstances aren’t, and stories that pulse with feeling resonate deeper than technical accuracy ever will. Let the ache shape the prose. Let the joy make it relatable to your readers.
Write What You Can Understand.
Empathy is a muscle, and storytelling is one of the best ways to flex it. You may not share someone’s identity or history, but if you can listen deeply, research respectfully, and enter that imaginative space with humility, you can write it. Not everything needs to be autobiographical to be authentic, but you do owe your characters your effort to understand their reality.
Write What You're Curious About.
Chase obsessions. Follow the weird little facts that keep you up at night or the aesthetics that haunt your dreams. Writing is permission to explore and to become temporarily possessed by an idea or world or character.
Curiosity is the root of every great “what if?” So, if you don’t know something yet, perfect. Write to find out.
Write From Your Lived Voice.
No one else thinks or phrases things quite like you do. That’s both beauty and power. Your syntax, your rhythm, your lens on the world? All of that is part of your voice, shaped by your culture, location, neurotype, class, language, and every invisible filter through which you perceive.
Even if you’re writing dragons or deep-space rebels or a 6'7" foot god aspirant with great hair and a long sword, your voice is the thread that makes it yours.
Write What You’ve Survived (but If and When You’re Ready).
Some stories feel radioactive. That’s okay. There’s no moral obligation to mine your pain for art, but when the time comes, and only when you choose, it can be healing, enraging, clarifying, even liberating to write what tried to break you.
Survival carries a voice of authority. You can write it messy, write it angry, write it tender, but only if you want to.
Write As If You Know It Intimately.
Here’s the secret that I found out by talking to some best-selling authors when I was marketing my own self-published novellas. Most writers are winging it. We invent, embellish, and dramatize constantly. So, write your castles, your magical cults, your interdimensional wars with the confidence of a delusional god.
Research helps, yes, but swagger sells. If you write it with conviction, if you write like you live there, readers will believe you. Maybe you’ll believe you, too.
Since so man manga authors don’t know how to write endings
How does one write a good ending? Especially if it’s a long running show.
Writing a good ending for a long-running series is a massive undertaking because you aren't just closing a plot. You are saying goodbye to a world that people have inhabited for years. The biggest mistake many authors make is trying to provide a shocking twist or a massive spectacle at the expense of character growth.
To write a satisfying conclusion, you have to look backward before you look forward. Every character should have a narrative arc that feels earned. If a protagonist starts the series seeking strength but ends the series realizing that strength comes from their community, that realization needs to be the focal point of the finale. A good ending is a thematic payoff where the internal struggle of the hero is resolved alongside the external threat.
Consistency is also vital, especially when you have decades of lore to contend with. Fans of long-running shows are deeply invested in the rules and history of the world, so a deus ex machina or a sudden power-up that ignores established logic will always feel like a betrayal. You want to aim for a resolution that feels inevitable but not necessarily predictable. It should be the kind of ending where the reader closes the book or turns off the screen and thinks that it couldn't have ended any other way. This means tying up the major emotional threads while leaving just enough of the world's mystery intact so the universe doesn't feel like it ceased to exist the moment the story stopped.
An author has to be brave enough to let things change permanently. The status quo is the enemy of a great ending. Whether it is a bittersweet sacrifice, a fundamental shift in the world's power structure, or the characters simply growing up and moving on, there must be a sense of finality. Long-running series often suffer from the fear of letting go, leading to endings that feel like just another Tuesday.
A truly resonant finale acknowledges the weight of the journey and the scars the characters have earned. It is about honoring the time the audience spent with you by giving them a sense of closure that respects the emotional investment they put into your work since the very first chapter.
