#narration wise

[vodid]

wondering if someday i should tackle the autism/adhd dynamic for jazzprowl like i do with adhd/bpd in my blitzbee fic

(lots of rambling in tags vv)

[parttimesarah]

[aquapede]

the narrator encouraging quiet's self-hate for His own means is so heartbreaking. He's constantly invalidating his feelings and telling him to not listen to his own emotions. He calls the voices (abstracted versions of quiet) annoying and small and irritating and then posits that only He means anything; just ignore what you feel, what you think, just do what i say, because you are a failure unfit to make your own decisions. vile and horrible man. incredibly he is able to be a toxic father figure towards a literal actual god

[carmen-berzattos]

There's something at the tip of my tongue about the parallels between Jackie and Wilson and Who We Are

How the narrator of Jackie and Wilson wants to run away with a woman that he's carved out of his imagination based on a brief interaction. How they would try the world, but good god it wasn't for them. So they run away from it into a fantasy world where they live by their own rules.

And then comes the narrator of Who We Are, who dreamt his whole life of finding someone who would hold him like water or like a knife, only to find that running away from the world will only get them so far, since "the hardest part is who we are". And only to find out that the "phantom life" he's fantasized about is actually just that: a phantom. And its absence sharpens like a knife

[ivanttakethis]

So like………………. what was the point of Round 6?? 🤨

[yael-art-den]

Im throwing rocks at my own roof here, but unfortunately I'd wish that Ifan's characterization was more consistent in-game. Like yeah I'll play and pretend he's a bad boy for ship reasons but 99% of in-game interactions are him being good-hearted and a kind person.

AND DON'T GET ME WRONG there is nothing I love more than a kind rough man, but that leaves scenes in which the narrator has to verbally remind you that that man is a mercenary, or him casually dropping that he kills people. Sure we see OTHER Lone Wolfs do bad shit; but any in-game violence is either something that the party started; or that they are okay with. So when you get into a romance scene and the narrator reminds you that he is a "dangerous man", it falls a bit flat imo

[tubes-the-ann]

I did it guys, I comiced.

[wri0thesley]

needed something simple and easy to read this week whilst in the final throes of show week so in the past seven days i have read all of the hunger games. i'd read the original trilogy as a teen and not liked them (idk why? guess i was having one of those Everything Popular Sucks moments) but i read the ballad of songbirds and snakes and sunrise on the reaping too and i feel like i enjoyed them all much more now as a nearly thirty year old than i originally did fgbknjgfn

[salty-an-disco]

“Maybe there’s a key somewhere here…” [Look through the trash in the basement.]

“Maybe. I wouldn’t know.”

The Princess glances at the objects surrounding her; most out of reach.

Voice of the Hero: Maybe someone forgot the key here. Or maybe we can find something that can help us lockpick the chain.

Like a paper clip. Or a thin enough pen. Office workers are known for their fondness for paper clips and pens.

You search through the rubber, the Princess’ curious gaze on your back as you move. There’s something of a wait on the air; an anticipation. Despite her stoic outside, the Princess can’t help but clench her fingers around her dress in hopefulness.

Voice of the Hero: Aww.

Ahem.

Voice of the Hero: Sorry, sorry… Continue with your narration.

Thank you.

It isn’t long before you find a torn paperclip amidst a pile of crumpled up paper. Several, in fact—office workers really like their paper clips.

You take a handful, not sure which one is best fitting for the art of lockpicking. As you turn, the Princess perks her head up, wide unblinking eyes looking directly at you as you approach.

You show her the clips, then, taking her wrist in your hands, turn the shackle in search for the keyhole. Hm.

Voice of the Hero: What?

[Sound of rifling through paper.]

There isn’t any mention of a keyhole…

Voice of the Hero: There should have a keyhole, though, how else did they trap her in here?

Yes, yes, of course. The keyhole is definitely implied but there isn’t a mention of what happens once– [more rifling through paper] Oh, screw it. This script is so barebones anyway, might as well improvise a bit.

After finding the keyhole, you select a particularly thin clip and insert it into the opening.

Voice of the Hero: I think you need two of those to lockpick…

“Here.”

The Princess selects another clip, and inserts it alongside yours.

It takes a few stumbles, but together, the two of you manage to manipulate the mechanisms in the lock. And with a clack, the Princess is free.

“Huh.” She rubs her wrist. “You really did it. I didn’t doubt you, but, it’s still surprising that the first person I ever met also decides to free me. Right after saying you’re here to kill me, no less.”

Voice of the Hero: It was the right thing to do.

[candleeyed]

saw Shucked! yesterday. my main three takeaways:

1. I grew up in/around like 20 towns exactly like this

2. I like how one guy thinks he's in a romantic rivalry with the other guy (who just wants to escape with his money), and the main girl is just trying not to punch everyone. and her cousin is bisexual

3. oh this badass lady wants to carry this little conman around like he's her purse dog.

[drowning-in-cacophony]

nugatory

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial Prompt 288: Loud Lie, Quiet Truth

[Summary: a woman ignores a truth she knows deep down] [tw: implied death of narrator at end]

We are going to die here.

She ignores the nibble, at the lobe of her ear, her brain. A catching between teeth blunted from the constant refusal to engage. It’s an old dog unable to stop howling that last warning, even as it knows its master’s never going to give a damn.

Her fingers twitch about the staff – it’s already showing the wear of the fights. A crack through the wood at the end she’d just used to brace against the thunderous hurricane of blows from a man with arm muscles the size of overinflated balloons, but she’s still fine and she’ll display that peacock-style. Her toe points proud, her chin jutting out in challenge. The staff she brings back into defence, which everyone knows is just a temporary status before she gives into attack. Maybe it’s better described as another challenge. Down her spine, a trickle of a sigh; against her skull, a quiver. Better that than her shoulders, though. Better there than somewhere someone can see. She’s fought through impossible odds before, right. What’s going to be different about this one?

Pride always comes before a fall, a reminder that swirls with a degree of bitterness, a pointlessness. Pride comes before a fall, but what if she turns the fall into a roll, slamming back onto her knees, slamming the staff into some soft part between the next set of ribs? She glances at the rest of them, one eyebrow cocked in the space that’s remained, the breath they’re all taking before whoever’s next comes in to deal with her. She takes a breath, purposefully easy, like her heart beat’s not some rabbit jacking against her bones. She looks half-impatient, taunting them for their decisions, and all the while a voice in her head can’t stop murmuring a truth. The only thing that awaits here is her death, it says, because there’s no other way out of this. It’s bravado, in her veins. It’s lies, in her head. Just because they’re screamed loud doesn’t mean they’re true.

But she’s always thought it’s the things that have noise that are understood, not those quiet things creeping in through the shadows.

“I,” she says, nothing flinching about in her voice, “can do this all day.”

All leery mockery, indications flashing bright lights, warning of impending doom. To their egos, if they let her keep chatting this shit. To her body, something murmurs, if she doesn’t use the small stunned silence she wrought after her last sound success to beat it in the other direction. Tear for the hills, live to fight another day, but she doesn’t need retreat. She won’t acknowledge the need. It doesn’t exist.

The next competitor is on his feet in an instant. Wrapped fists, clenched knuckles that look thrice the size of her own, and he doesn’t even look like there’s a bone in his body that understands defeat. She braces her feet, launches. The staff might bear a few scars, yet who doesn’t? It’s all a matter of perspective. It’ll do fine enough, and it does, as she uses her smaller stature to nimbly dodge the power hits of the man, waiting until the perfect opportunity to sweep the uncracked end of the staff through the air. A cutting whistle, the sound of triumph cresting over the soundtrack of pounding hearts and meaty pants. She hits him in the back of the knee, in the back of his skull when he goes down. A firm smack of wood to that bone will do quite a nice bit of damage.

So, she learns a second later, does a fist.

The fall. She crashes to her knees, a mountain felled, and then comes the avalanche to polish things off.  An attack, right to her ribs, an explosion of pain to rock the table. Her palms scratching the soil, and she fumbles for the staff while trying to breathe, footsteps punching into the dirt like a fist had done her poor sore and throbbing neck. Another kick has her on her back, wheezing in agony and  staring into an uncaring sky soon blotted out by the lucky hitter. He’d not been content waiting for the pause after her defeats for her challenge. He’d come right in and just taken it as his success, fed up of the games.

“You’ve not finished me off yet,” she spits, a warm fleck at the corner of her lip. The loud lie, right on her mouth along with the blood.

Yes, then have, the quiet truth she still ignores, even when the man raises his clenched rock-destroying fists, with only one direction for them to go.

[aran-morinorea]

Worst road trip? 👀

Did Annatar come thousands of miles by himself? Of course not, he’s got a retinue and he’s been doing diplomatic visits en route because he’s efficient. Consider, if you will, the put-upon attendants (and carriage drivers and ceremonial guards and hostlers and whoever else) that have to deal with, well, Annatar.

--

We had had only two hours of rest when the divine king returned to the road. He did not return alone; He walked arm-in-arm with a man - an Elf - a West-elf - an upset West-elf - whom He did not introduce. At least the Elf wasn’t armed, though who knew what it - she? - he? - could do with his voice. I have only heard the Silver-king sing in anger once, and once was more than enough for one lifetime.

[paperstreetlocal]

big fan of selfcest and other shit but when people say soapshipping is selfcest it makes me violent to an insane degree

[boxheadpaint]

acephale horror is a decent quality horror anthology but so many fucking episodes end in a way that make me want to go to the authors front door and say Come On Man

[snowstories]

I do dislike how watered town the concept of an 'unreliable narrator' has become at least on this website. Any time a narrator shows even the slightest bit of bias they're deemed an unreliable narrator when like.... that's called being human? Everyone's worldview is subjective and the way you view the events around you is inherently biased. A limited POV is going to reflect this bias. Unless this bias distorts the narrative at hand on a fundamental level (see: Lolita), that does not make the narrator unreliable. Being wrong about things does not make you an unreliable narrator. If it did, it'd render the term worthless because then literally everyone ever would be an unreliable narrator.

[eyepatchdate]

and like. the latter half is a total shitshow mess. gerde is extinguished so easily as a villian while also somehow overshadowing the influence of hermes. while also not standing enough on her own (especially as new york isn't dwelled on in this issue either) and like. what a mess. i think im right that they didn't expect this to be their final arc? so like. they were like well we have to deal with gerde now. its just awkward writing.

but like everything BEFORE that latter half is so fucking great and cool that it's so wild that it just tries to do way too much in too little time.

like the planning is there, the very interesting arcs of it all is there if you look at it from the wider scale, we learn a lot of interesting things, the characters end up in really cool places, etc. it just. pacing fell apart and trying to throw both villains in really fucked with the stakes.