her-gracious-lady-herald-bits1

[her-gracious-lady-herald-bits1]

Insufferable Love Interests Poll Round 2

Propaganda why Brambleclaw is insufferable as a love interest:

"GOD HE FUCKING SUCKS IN EVERY ASPECT BUT ESPECIALLY IN THE WAY HE TREATS HIS MARVELOUS WIFE SQUIRRELFLIGHT"

"He’s coddled and badly written with the series and becomes a awful mate to Squirrelflight."

"He is often mean or downright cruel to his partner Squirrelflight, abuses his position of power to control her, lies to and gaslights her, etc. Also just not a very likeable or good guy to begin with, seeing as he never faced consequences for secretly collaborating with his evil family which led to the attempted assassination of Squirrelflight's father - a fact he actively hid from her because he knew she wouldn't want to be close with him if she found out the truth (and she never does, because he never comes clean or apologizes!). It would be one thing if the narrative portrayed emotional abuse like this as a bad thing, but instead it treats this like a perfectly normal way to treat your partner, in a book series meant for 10-year-olds."

Propaganda why Solas is insufferable as a love interest:

"Egg ass bitch"

"Arrogant, condescending asshole who’s currently trying to commit his third genocide. But everyone thinks he’s peak romance because he’s (allegedly) hot (???). If romanced he has a relationship with someone based on lies and then breaks up with her because the knowledge that she’s actually a real person gets in the way of his plans to murder everyone and he really wants to murder everyone. Also, kinda racist."

"An optional romance in the third game of the series, but a huge chunk of fandom acts like it’s the canon story and also the most important thing in the whole series. Some of the writers also seem to be under this impression. The romance is locked to female characters of a specific background (dalish elf, an oppressed ethnic group in game) and Solas spends the entire game belittling her culture. He actually disapproves of dalish player characters standing up for and being proud of their culture, and approves when they join in the dismissal and belittling. He tries to remove incredibly important cultural tattoos from the pc when romanced. He breaks up with the player character, and is then later revealed to have been the villain behind the inciting incident of the game, and also plans further villainy. For some reason the romance is still made central. In the next game the default worldstate is for the romance to have happened and for the cultural tattoos to have been removed, because isolation from your culture and family is oh so romantic. This default player character will wax lyrical about how much she loves Solas, who is actively trying to destroy the world and kill everyone in it, because he does not consider them to be real people. She has not spoken to him in over ten years and they were together for less than a year under false pretences. The “romantic” ending of the game has her throw her entire life away and imprison herself in a magical prison filled with deadly corruption to be with her ex from ten years ago forever, with no way out. This is presented as romantic. THIS IS PRESENTED AS ROMANTIC."

[her-gracious-lady-herald-bits1]

I had to explain leliana dragon age to my wife because of the pussy eating poll and these were the key facets of her character I came up with

French

Gay repressed spy (repressed about being a former spy/assassin, but not about being gay)

Religiously insane

Possible papal candidate

Ginger

[her-gracious-lady-herald-bits1]

now that i'm back though, gotta share my thoughts (because i've been thinking about this for weeks and had no one to tell).

i need shauna to go all out toxic abusive boyfriend on melissa. i'm talking about blatant manipulation, beating her up & then taking care of her going on and on about "you know how i did this because i love you, right?", not letting melissa leave their hut, threatening to kill her and/or herself if she talks to anyone else... and obviously, melissa being terrified & really into it all at once.

[her-gracious-lady-herald-bits1]

the sillies

[her-gracious-lady-herald-bits1]

we've moved past yuri duty we're onto yuri firing squads now ship f/f or die

[her-gracious-lady-herald-bits1]

Writing existing character voices for fanfic

Hey, so, I started doing a writeup a week ago about how to get character voices in your fanfic to sound “in character,” in response to a comment from a new writer I was beta-ing for. 

I’ve been told this is a thing I do well.

As someone who studied dialogue extensively for a theatre degree, I tend to do this reflexively now, and I don’t write out each individual step. But I put some thought into how I might break down the process if I was new at it and looking to get better.

I don’t think it’s actually that different than an actor studying character accents, except as a writer you’re breaking down meaning rather than sound.

Let’s take a look at what makes dialogue unique to a character. I’m gonna list these as bullet points first, and then I’ll suggest some exercises to explore these aspects of speech.

Most important aspects - focus on these first

Vocabulary - the words they use. As subset of this:

Complexity of words, which can include:

Syllable length

Likelihood to be used in casual conversation - a character can be very smart and still use very informal language.

Cultural touchpoints

Culture can include pop culture references - think Tony Stark’s nicknames for everyone, i.e. “Point Break” and “Underoos”

How in or out of sync the character is with the story’s setting with regard to both time and place - are they from a different country or era of time than their peers?

Important - Check these out if you have time

How likely the character is to speak their mind vs. change the subject - this could be for any number of reasons, from fear to duplicity

Amount they say / Introvertedness / how reticent they are - This is somewhat related to the above point, but not necessarily, and should be researched from different angles. Subverting a topic is not the same thing as being afraid to talk about it.

Different ways of speaking with different characters - this could be a function of story (i.e. how a character who is captured speaks to their captors as opposed to friends) as well as pure Code Switching

Deep cuts - Advanced aspects of speech

Fluency in the language they are speaking

Accents - You do not have to write a character in an accent, i.e. spell the words differently to show the accent, if you don’t want to. It really depends on the piece (usually how light hearted or humorous you want it to be) whether you do or not.

Okay, this is all well and good, you say. But HOW do I incorporate this into my writing?

Dialogue analysis exercise

Find five (or more, but at least five) representative lines from your character’s canon dialogue.

If they don’t speak, don’t have five lines, do the best you can. (I imagine other forms of communications can probably also be analyzed in this way, but I’m gonna focus on dialogue for now.)

These are going to be your key phrases. They need to be from canon and they need to be words that really show off who your character is.

Say the words out loud. Read them again and again. What do they sound / feel like?

What is the average syllable length? How many long words do they use?

Do any words jump out at you as archaic? What about modern pop culture references?

What is a different way they could have said this? Write some alternate versions of this phrase and figure out WHY the character didn’t say it this way instead. What is the difference between the canon dialogue and the alternative? Try to be as specific as possible. It’s as important to know what they wouldn’t say as what they would.

Look up any of the more complex words and find some similar ones, with a similar level of complexity. Use a thesaurus you trust and possibly also Wordnik. If your character doesn’t use ANY complex words, reflect on that. Why? What’s their reason? How does that fit with the rest of their personality?

Think of some other characters from other pop culture pieces who speak in a similar way. It doesn’t have to be 100% the same, but if it can help your ear get used to some new-but-different phrases, it’s enough. You’re training your brain to speak like the character. Start to sort phrases they would say from ones they wouldn’t. How do these two characters differ?

Now that you have worked thoroughly through your key phrases, start to imagine these lines said in something other than the original context. What if they were said to a different character? WOULD they even be said? What would change? What would happen if your character was scared / hurt / overjoyed / sick?

Finally, after all that, write some NEW dialogue for your character, either as practice, or right into your fic draft. Keep using your key phrases as a guide and go back to canon as much as you need to! You can do this!

After all of this, you should feel significantly more confident in writing that existing character into your story. Huzzah!

If you found this at all helpful, reblog and / or leave me a note. I’m curious to hear what you think.

[her-gracious-lady-herald-bits1]

we need more pathetic female characters written by authors who don't hate women

[her-gracious-lady-herald-bits1]

the heartaches palette for Leliana would look awesome!!

Oh that was definitely an easier one! Thank you, one spymaster doodle coming right up <3

[her-gracious-lady-herald-bits1]

for the last fucking time, i don't care if shauna shipman has never taken accountability. i don't care if she never does. i love her regardless and i always will and i do not care!

[her-gracious-lady-herald-bits1]

Yeah it was really hard finding out I'm adopted and then that my birth mom disappeared when I was a kid. I guess the one thing that really got me through it was meeting my beautiful wife Kelly. She's estranged from her family of origin and values family so much she's a stay at home mom, which became really important to her about the time workplaces started electronically verifying social security numbers. God I'm so blessed nothing horrifying is currently happening in my kitchen.

[her-gracious-lady-herald-bits1]

Everyone is fighting a tough battle so reblog to give previous a sword 🗡️

[her-gracious-lady-herald-bits1]

hiii, I have not posted anything in a year and a half: here's my favorite bard <33 with some medieval illuminated manuscript inspired marginalia (guest starring the humble nug)!

[her-gracious-lady-herald-bits1]

it's funny to see some solas fans convinced the devs hate him and that explains some of the shortcomings in the writing. when like yeah the devs do hate a character and it's every female one they ever wrote. and anders.

[her-gracious-lady-herald-bits1]

reblog & tag how old you were in 2006

[her-gracious-lady-herald-bits1]

Pairing: Leliana/ Female Tabris

---

Leliana doesn’t bother trying to sleep. The cot is stiff, the air close, and Sister Mildred’s snoring grates against her ears.

With a quiet sigh, she pushes off the blanket and pulls on her boots.

(A walk, then. Maybe a prayer.)

The stone floor is cold, her boots useless against the chill. Still, she moves quietly. Lothering’s Chantry is small — nothing like Val Royeaux’s grand halls — but the moonlight makes it almost beautiful. Silver light slips through high windows. Shadows stretch long against the stone.

She reaches the chapel doors and stills.

Someone else is here.

She stops. One hand against the stone wall.

The sound isn’t quite a sob. Raw, uneven. Something close to breaking.

Leliana steps forward, careful, quiet. Habit.

The chapel is empty—except for her. (Alone. Or trying to be.)

An elf, kneeling before the statue of Andraste. Tawny skin, long unkempt curly hair. Traveling clothes, scuffed and worn. Two serrated daggers at her knees. Always within reach.

Leliana knows who she is.

Duncan’s new recruit. The one who kept to herself. The one who glared at anyone who looked too overlong.

"I don’t even know if you’re there."

The elf’s voice cuts through the quiet. Low. Rough. Not meant for an audience.

"Maker. Andraste. Whoever’s listenin’." A pause. "S’pose it don’t matter much now."

Leliana stills. The accent is pure Denerim — sharp vowels, dropped consonants. (Alienage, maybe?.)

"Should I feel sorry? That what they want?" The elf sways slightly. Leliana catches the scent of cheap ale.

(Drunk. Speaking to Andraste like she would an barmaid at last call)

Leliana should walk away. Give her privacy. Instead, she leans into the shadows and listens.

"He deserved worse."

The elf’s voice is steady. Cold.

"Put my teeth right through his throat. Watched him gurgle on his own blue blood." A rough, humorless laugh. "Only regret is not makin’ it slower."

Leliana exhales, slow. The confession hangs in the air. Sharp-edged.

"Shianni—." The elf sways slightly. Her fists clench. "I don’t know how she is. I don’t—" Her voice catches. "And the other girls—"

A sharp inhale.

"What that bastard and his friends did." A long silence. "I’d do it again. Kill ’em all again." Her breath shudders. "Only worse."

Her head drops forward. Shoulders tight.

"So if you’re up there, don’t expect me to beg forgiveness." A pause. "Not for that."

Leliana stays still.

"But I just—I need to know." The elf’s voice is raw now. Bare. "If there’s a reason. For any of it." A breath. "My mum dyin’. The alienage. All of it."

Silence.

"They say the Maker turned from us." Her voice drops to a whisper.

"Sometimes I think—I don’t blame him."

The flask uncorks with a soft pop. She drinks deep. Leliana watches her throat move as she swallows, then lets her head tip back against the altar.

The Elf pushes herself upright. Stumbles.

Her hand slaps against the marble base of Andraste’s statue. One of her daggers slips from her belt, clattering to the floor.

"Shite."

Leliana steps forward. Doesn’t let herself hesitate.

"Let me help you."

The elf’s head snaps up. Eyes sharp despite the drink. Her hand flies to her remaining dagger.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Leliana lifts her hands. Open. Empty. Keeps her voice soft. "Leliana. A lay sister here at the Chantry."

The elf squints at her. The candlelight flickers. Her grip stays tight.

"And you?" Leliana asks.

A beat. elf watches her, wary. Then: "Kallian."

"Didn’t mean to intrude Kallian," Leliana adds. "Or your prayers."

Kallian snorts. "Wasn’t prayin’." She exhales slow, the tension easing just enough. "Just... talkin’ to myself, looks like."

Leliana bends to retrieve the fallen dagger. (Good steel. Well cared for.) Runs her fingers over the edge, weighing its balance before holding it out, hilt first.

She turns the dagger in her hands. Fine balance. A careful edge.

"Fine blades."

Kallian takes it. Their fingers brush—her skin fever-warm, calloused in places, raw in others.

Leliana starts to pull away—then notices it.

A brand, faint but unmistakable, burned into the base of Kallian’s thumb. A crude "T."

(Thief.)

The skin around it is old, long healed. But Leliana has seen brands like this before. Orlesian lords marked pickpockets this way. (It seems Fereldan's too—if they didn’t just take a hand instead.)

Kallian notices Leliana looking. Her fingers twitch, then curl—(a practiced motion, hiding the mark with her palm.)

"Were me mum's," she says. Her voice is flat, but her fingers tighten on the hilt. "Before some shems cut her down in the street."

"You said that you were looking for a reason." Leliana keeps her voice even.

Kallian’s eyes narrow. Bloodshot, but alert.

"You were eavesdroppin’."

"Yes."

A pause. Then Kallian snorts. "Least you’re honest. More’n I can say for most."

She drops onto the nearest pew, rubbing a hand over her face. Leliana studies her in the dim light—young, barely twenty. Dark circles under her eyes. Tawny skin sallow with exhaustion.

"When’s the last time you slept?"

Kallian exhales through her nose. "Properly? Before Denerim." Her gaze flickers away. "Before everything."

Leliana sits beside her. Not too close.

Sweat, leather, the sharp bite of ale. And something else, faint beneath it.

(Embrium.)

"You said he deserved worse," Leliana says. "That you’d kill him again."

Kallian doesn’t look at her. Her fingers drum against her thigh. Restless. A tell.

"Yeah?" Kallian mutters. "What of it?"

Leliana watches her. Weighs her next words. "Who was he?"

Kallian snorts. "What, you keepin’ a ledger of murderers in your Chantry?"

"No." Leliana tilts her head. "But I wonder what a man must do to earn that kind of hatred."

Kallian exhales sharply. A humorless laugh. "You’re askin’ the wrong questions, Sister."

"Am I?"

Kallian finally looks at her, one eye sharp, assessing. "Ain’t like it matters now. He’s dead."

"And yet, you’re here," Leliana says.

Kallian’s jaw tightens. She exhales through her nose. "What, you expect regret? Tears? You think I should be prayin’ for my soul?"

"No," Leliana says simply. "I think you blame yourself."

Kallian goes still.

It lasts only a second before she scoffs, shaking her head. "You don’t know me."

"No," Leliana agrees. "But I know that look. I’ve worn it myself."

Kallian barks a laugh, sharp and bitter. "Yeah? What’d you do, Sister?"

Leliana doesn’t flinch. "Not enough."

Kallian exhales, slow. "Yeah," she mutters. "That’s the real bitch of it, ain’t it?"

Her fingers twitch toward her flask. Leliana doesn’t stop her, just watches as Kallian takes a long pull.

"Duncan says we leave for Ostagar tomorrow." Kallian’s voice is flat. "Darkspawn to kill. Blight to stop."

Kallian huffs a laugh, though there’s no humour in it. "Traded the hangman’s noose for a death sentence with better company. Guess that’s an upgrade."

(A death sentence. She says it like it’s already done.)

Leliana watches her. "You don’t think you’ll survive."

Kallian tilts her head, considering. "Does it matter?"

A beat. Then, quieter—not quite for Leliana, not quite for herself: "Duncan seems to think so."

"And you?" Leliana asks.

Kallian scoffs. "You ask a lotta questions, Sister."

"It’s a habit of mine."

Kallian exhales through her nose. Picks at a loose thread on her sleeve. "Ain’t much left for me, one way or the other. Suppose fightin’ darkspawn is better than hanging."

"Yet here you are," Leliana says, "talking to Andraste."

Kallian exhales through her nose, rolling the flask between her palms. "Told you, I wasn’t prayin’."

"No," Leliana says. "But I could."

Kallian’s head tilts slightly, eyes narrowing. "What?"

"For your cousin," Leliana says simply. "For Shianni."

Kallian goes still. Her fingers tighten around the flask.

"Don’t need your pity, Sister."

"It’s not pity," Leliana says, calm, steady. "It’s a prayer."

Silence. Kallian doesn’t look at her, but she doesn’t snap back either.

Leliana folds her hands in her lap, bowing her head slightly. She doesn’t ask permission—only offers.

"Maker, look upon your child Shianni," she murmurs. Leliana folds her hands in her lap, head bowed. (Someone should say the words. Even if no one listens.) "Grant her strength where the world has left her weak. Grant her peace where men have left her broken."

Kallian swallows.

Leliana doesn’t look up, but she hears the breath Kallian takes—shaky, uneven, almost too quiet to notice.

"And grant those who love her the strength to carry what she cannot."

Kallian exhales slowly. Like something inside her just unclenched—just a little.

She doesn’t thank Leliana. Doesn’t acknowledge the prayer at all. Just tips her flask back, takes a long drink.

Leliana watches her carefully. Then, instead of pressing further, she simply says, "Come. Let’s get some air — and I have something better than whatever’s in that flask. It won’t leave you with such a headache tomorrow."

Kallian raises a rakish brow. "Sister, are you offerin’ to take me for a drink?"

The air shifts—(a test, maybe?. A deflection, certainly.)

Leliana smiles, light but steady. "I’m offering you a better vintage than whatever’s in that flask." A pause. "And company, if you wish it."

Kallian watches her. Weighing something. Then, blunt—"Why?"

(Not just why the offer. Why bother at all.)

Leliana holds her gaze. "Because I know what it’s like to wonder if anyone’s listening."

Kallian snorts, shaking her head. "Pretty words." But she tucks the flask away.

"Do they bother you?" Leliana asks.

Kallian exhales. "Dunno yet."

A beat. Then, she pushes herself up, stretching her shoulders with a wince. "Alright then, Sister. Lead on. But don’t say I didn’t warn you—I’m pretty shite company."

"I’ll take my chances."

Kallian eyes her. "Suit yourself."

Leliana extends a hand. Not an expectation. Just an offering.

Kallian looks at it. Then, slowly, she takes it.

Her grip is calloused. Warm. Steady.

---