#when you can hint at it through a sentence of narration

[fictionadventurer]

I'm obsessed with how story structure is learning what not to put on the page. How you can tell the same story through a hundred different lenses, and the lens you choose decides which things get focus and which things are left blurry. How the story is defined by what you choose to show and thus also by the negative space left by the pieces you cut away. How "show, don't tell" really means you have to choose what to show and then tell the rest, and how you have to leave space for the reader's imagination to fill in all the detail and layers that you can't fit within the limitations of black-and-white print. How minimizing certain aspects of writing isn't necessarily a failure of craft but a triumph of it, because choosing what things the story doesn't need is as important as knowing what it does.

[whispers-whump]

Some writing advice

that I like to use when I write. None of this is meant to be taken as hard and fast rules, they’re just things I like to do/keep in mind when I’m writing and I thought maybe other people would enjoy! <3

Never say what you mean

This is an offshoot of the very common “show don’t tell” advice, which I think can be confusing in application and unhelpful for scenes where telling is actually the right move. Instead, I keep the advice to never say exactly what I mean in stories.

By using a combination of showing and telling to hint at what you really mean, you force your reader to think and figure it out on their own, which makes for a more satisfying reading experience.

You might show a character getting angry and defensive in response to genuine care and concern. You could tell the audience that the character doesn’t see/talk to their parents often. But never outright give the real meaning that the character feels unlovable because of their strained relationship with their parents and as a result they don’t know how to react to being cared for.

Your readers are smart, you don’t need to spoon feed them.

Be sparse with the important things

You know how in a lot of movies there’s that tense scene where a character is hiding from something/someone and you can only just see this person/thing chasing them through a crack in the door? You get a very small glimpse of whatever’s after the character, sometimes only shadows being visible.

Do that in your writing. Obscure the important things in scenes by overdescribing the unimportant and underdescribing the important.

You might describe the smell of a space, the type of wood the floor is made of, the sound of work boots moving slowly across the room, a flashlight in the character’s hand. And there’s a dead body, laying in a pool of blood in the far corner of the room, red soaking into the rug. Then move on, what kind of rug is it? What is the color, patterns, and type of fabric of the rug?

Don’t linger on the details of the body, give your reader’s imagination some room to work while they digest the mundane you give them.

Dialogue is there to tell your story too

There’s a lot of advice out there about how to make dialogue more realistic, which is absolutely great: read aloud to yourself, put breaks where you feel yourself take a breath, reword if you’re stuttering over your written dialogue. But sometimes, in trying to make dialogue sound more realistic, a little bit of its function is lost.

Dialogue is more than just what your characters say, dialogue should serve a purpose. It’s a part of storytelling, and it can even be a bridging part of your narration.

If you have a scene with a lot of internal conflict that is very narration-heavy, breaking it up with some spoken dialogue can be a way to give some variety to those paragraphs without moving onto a new idea yet; people talk to themselves out loud all of the time.

Dialogue is also about what your characters don’t say. This can mean the character literally doesn’t say anything, they give half-truths, give an expected answer rather than the truth (“I’m fine”), omit important information, or outright lie.

Play with syntax and sentence structure

You’ve heard this advice before probably. Short, choppy sentences and a little onomatopoeia work great for fast-paced action scenes, and longer sentences with more description help slow your pacing back down.

That’s solid advice, but what else can you play with? Syntax and sentence structure are more than just the length of a sentence.

Think about things like: repetition of words or ideas, sentence fragments, stream of consciousness writing, breaking syntax conventions, and the like. Done well, breaking some of those rules we were taught about language can be a more compelling way to deliver an emotion, theme, or idea that words just can’t convey.

Would love to hear any other tips and tricks other people like to use, so feel free to share!!!

[odxrilove]

SILVER PLATTER – l.jn

pairing: jeno x f!reader

genre: band!au (not mentionned much!!), uni!au, friends to ?, 3k~

synopsis: when you get confessed to in front of your friends and band members, not everyone seems to think it's funny.

back to masterlist!

“– I know that we aren’t really close but ever since the day you asked for my notes in our english literature seminar last year, i’ve been admiring you from afar! You always look so mysterious and so cool and- and, you’re even in a band! I- I don’t really listen to your group’s music except for your parts– your voice is really beautiful!– i’ve loved you for so long and i–” 

“But,” you cut off the nervous boy’s rambling a little too firmly than you would have liked, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to calm yourself down. “I don't know you…” 

There it is, the sentence that makes Donghyuck burst out into laughter. 

You can hear a stifled laugh from where you’re standing near the guitar stands and you don’t even have to guess to know who the culprit is. You can feel your friends’ eyes boring holes in your back from the other side of the room and you just know Jaemin and Donghyuck are having a field day seeing you like this. 

When you look back at the boy in front of you, you audibly sigh as he turns beet red, holding his hands in front of him and staring at his shoes. “Look, i’m sure you’re a really nice guy but i’m not really interested in dating–” 

You feel bad, even more so when he– whose name is still unknown– gives you puppy eyes. Automatically, your voice softens as much as possible and a frown takes over your face. 

“–you.”

Your back is still turned to your friends but you know they are listening in on the conversation as best as they can, hungry for anything with which they can tease you with. 

Donghyuck is glued onto every word you tell the poor boy, narrating everything in a whisper to Renjun. Renjun (you pity him, truly) doesn’t seem fazed by the ongoing situation, which only makes his best friend complain. 

You don’t even have to glance their way to know that Donghyuck is probably taking up all the space on one of the couches in the corner of the music room, legs dangling off and arms crossed over the backrest. 

You’re sure he’s smiling with every second that passes. He’s so evil, you think.

The boy in front of you seems to space out for a minute or so and you, being the awkward person and people pleaser you are, stay still in place, patiently and nervously waiting for him to gather his thoughts. 

He snaps out of it when he hears Jaemin chuckle about disliking “tomatoes” and you don’t think you’ve ever wished to be buried six feet under as much as you do now. Why can’t they just act normal in delicate situations!

You cross your arms over your chest, your hoodie (Jeno’s hoodie, so unofficially your hoodie) keeping you warm as cold wind enters the room every time someone opens the door. 

This is awkward– worser than usual.

It’s not the first time someone has confessed to you, but it certainly is the first time that you can’t even place a name on the person asking you out. Guilt fills your veins but you’re sure the guy doesn’t feel that good himself either. 

You place the notebook you were holding on the desk next to you and rake a hand through your hair, other hand on your hip as you wait. And wait.

The hoodie hangs comfortably off your shoulders and the mix of laundry detergent, mint and raspberry-lemonade fills your nostrils. In a way, the scent is comforting, surrounding and hugging you. 

You really like Jeno’s laundry detergent. Maybe he can tell you the brand he uses.

You also really like how fruity the hoodie smells– hints of raspberry floating in the air around you– just like the smoothie Jeno had bought for you earlier that morning. You think it’s cute how there is something that “belongs” to you on something that belongs to Jeno (you even smile a bit at the thought). 

Oh. This feels weird.

Just before you can turn around and glance at your friends, a small voice interrupts your thoughts. It takes you a few seconds to realize the boy (he’s probably a few years younger than you– maybe a sophomore?) is talking to you and when his eyes meet yours, he quickly clears his throat and starts over. 

God, you feel awful. You’re the worst senior ever.

This time, you really try to focus on his words, although the giggles and teasing chuckles coming from the back of the room make it a really difficult task. “uhm, you- you said you didn’t want to date me,” he gulps and you almost cringe at the tremor in his voice (poor, poor guy) “is it because you have someone else?” 

Well, you didn’t expect him to be so blunt minutes after getting rejected. 

Nodding your head a few times, your tongue feels numb and your fingers start to tingle at how tight you curl them into a first. You don’t really know what to say, partially because you don’t want to make the boy cry and also because you know your friends are listening. 

Donghyuck is listening (he’s always listening) and everyone knows how dramatic he can be. He would probably gasp and claim your reputation as the hot sultry cold-hearted bassist of your band is ruined.

Jeno is listening too. You don’t even want to start thinking about his possible reaction– that can be a problem for another day (procrastinating is your biggest flaw).

Oh well, honesty comes first. Your mom would be proud if she knew.

The words coming out of your mouth in waves are barely comprehensible and you realize mid-sentence that the one supposed to understand them the most doesn’t. So, after a sigh and a deep breath, you start over. 

“I’m single but I do have my eyes on,” you pause, voice cracking and ears red– you can just feel them watching you, ”someone.” 

(You hope the boy doesn’t realize how awkward and stiff you are).

It’s like waiting for a verdict, standing there in the middle of the room while the boy slowly comes to realization. When it finally dawns on him, he throws his backpack on a desk nearby and starts to quickly gather his things, scrambling to put them in his flimsy bag. 

Your mouth falls open but nothing comes out so you just stare in surprise. Just when he begins to zip up his bag, he turns to you and upon finding you staring at him, flinches, sending his open bag toppling to the ground. 

Notebooks, pens and papers cover the ground soon after and at the disheartening sight at your feet, you crouch down alongside the sophomore (or freshman, you’re not sure) to help him pick his stuff up. He likely didn’t notice you crouching down to help him because he flinches even harder when you accidentally brush up against his sleeve.

In a split second, he’s out the door, the words “I’m sorry” dying on your tongue. He’s left behind a few scattered papers, a textbook you were holding out to him and a single pen hiding near a desk leg. 

You, on the other hand, are ready to bury yourself alive. What an awful day (it all started this morning when you ran out of milk for your cereals– ugh, you really don’t want to talk about it!)

With a huff and pressed lips you get up from your spot on the floor, brushing off the dust from your knees and picking up your notebook from one of the desks. Shame overwhelms you as you walk back to your friends in the corner of the room, holding both books in your hands and trying not to let the embarrassment take over– you’ll probably cry. 

Jaemin is the first one to greet you with a grin you can only describe as malicious. His arms are crossed over his chest and he seems to have enjoyed the scene, just like Donghyuck, who whistles and pushes your thigh with the tip of his shoe when you walk by. 

You throw the two notebooks on the old shabby coffee table and plop down on the couch, burying yourself as deep as possible in the sofa. You grab a pillow next to you and put it on your lap, using it as a shield for your eyes. 

Donghyuck continues to laugh all throughout and you even hear Renjun let out a little chuckle. Assholes. 

Jeno is the only one you haven’t heard from since you’ve come back to your little circle and when you uncover your eyes, you notice how his jaw is clenched. He looks intimidating, one arm hanging off the armrest and the other behind you on the headrest. He’s lazily tapping the side of the couch with his fingers but you know it’s only to calm himself down. You don’t realize you’re staring until he speaks up. 

“Stop trying to analyze me, psych major freak.” oof.

You roll your eyes, huffing and expressing your discontent through a pout as you hug the pillow. It’s not long before he gives in and flicks your forehead, eyes softening. “Stop trying to make me feel bad, it almost works.” He mutters. 

(You like that you know his weaknesses by heart).

“Hey yn,” You whip your head around at the mention of your name. “you’ sure the guy wasn’t something for you? I heard he works at that new cafe on campus you like.” Jaemin laughs at his own joke and highfives Donghyuck, proud of himself. 

You fall silent for a short while. “Is that why I kinda recognized him?– anyways, that doesn’t matter, he could literally be my little brother!” You whine a bit, “you’re not even being funny…”

Renjun tsks at his friends’ behavior but continues mindlessly scrolling through his phone, clearly more invested in a random reddit AITA tiktok video than their endless banter. 

This time, it’s Donghyuck that decides you need to be teased. “So, are you going to tell us who your prince charming is, the oh-so famous guy you like?”

“Absolutely not.” 

“Oh c’mon!” Donghyuck offendedly throws his hands in the air, “If Jeno had asked you, you would have told him..” 

You can only chuckle a bit as your friend had already given up, sliding down the couch to prop his feet on the coffee table, ultimately making it creak. Jeno doesn’t miss the way your cheeks heat up, and you don’t miss how he smirks because he knows ‘Hyuck’s right. 

A small group on the other side of the room starts prepping some instruments so you let yourself relax, falling back against the backrest and pulling the hoodie’s sleeves over your hands. 

You really enjoy hanging out with your friends in the music room, it’s never boring. More often than not, the room is completely empty for you to use, and with its couches, taking naps between band practice is a must and a privilege on campus. 

Your seat on the red couch is your self-designated spot, and sometimes when you’re feeling extra childish, you tease Jeno about having deliberately picked the spot next to you, even though you know Renjun always chooses the beanbag and the other two always run for the leather couch, leaving him with no other option than next to you. 

Jeno never denied your claim though, because with time it’s like he indeed deliberately chooses the seat next to you, every single time. 

He also likes hearing and seeing you giggle after you tease him, but you don’t have to know that. 

If Jeno had to be honest with himself, he knew he was a bad liar when it came to you, but that didn’t stop him from trying to act like he was oblivious to your friends’ teasing concerning your close friendship. 

He knows they would probably text him later that day, snarky comments about how you’ve been wearing his clothes much more regularly than usual. And like always, Jeno would just send a disapproving text back, followed by two or three middle fingers emojis, depending on his mood. 

Tonight, it would surely be five middle fingers. 

There’s one thing he can’t deny though, and it’s that you are indeed wearing his clothes more regularly. At first, he would roll his eyes when seeing you in one of his sweaters during class, just to keep the act up, but now, he can’t help but look you up and down and give you a little nod. 

You had loved to point out that he smiled yesterday morning when seeing you, which he rushed to deny, ears furiously turning red. 

You looked good though– maybe he would lend you his new green hoodie (moreso “accidently” leaving it at yours after hanging out). He just knows the color would suit you.

His arm is still on the headrest behind you and your hair brushes against his sleeve. He could pat your head right now, or fiddle with the loose strands of your hair, his hand is right behind you. He doesn’t let himself indulge in that little fantasy (he’d prefer to call it a fleeting thought) of his though. Not yet at least.

Your eyes glance over jeno’s profile, watching his hair fall in front of his eyes and his eyelashes flutter, before a small chuckle escapes your mouth. You turn to Donghyuck just as Jeno looks at you, curious. 

“Maybe I’ll tell y’all one day.” You smirk, acting disinterested as you study your nails, shrugging, “Maybe not.” 

A loud whine escapes Donghyuck and you have to cover your giggles so as to not “offend” him more. Your friend drags his plea on, lifting his arms in the air to show his desperation and getting slapped on the arm by Jaemin in the process, trying to shut him up.

Shivers run down your spine when you feel Jeno’s breath near your cheek and your eyes widen slightly, not used to the proximity. When you turn your face to look at him, body slightly stiff, you make eye contact with him and he seems entertained by your reaction. With the way his eyes shine and his lips are curled, you know his tone is going to be teasing. “Y’know, you were very professional back there..” 

You don’t answer directly, startled, so your laugh sounds a bit breathless as you try to find the right words, your mouth suddenly dry. “You think so?” 

He hums, leaning back a bit and spreading his legs before lifting one over the other. “If you need me to pretend to be your boyfriend, just ask,” With a grin, he swipes his fluffy hair back, some strands immediately falling back, too unruly, “I’ll come running.” 

You’re surprised by his forwardness but can’t help but find it endearing– the way his smile turns warm and adoration fills his eyes. It’s something you’ve always enjoyed seeing in Jeno, and knowing it’s directed towards you makes you giddy, your cheeks heating up.

You’re shying away but you don’t really want him to know all the effect he has on you– although you’re sure he knows quite well already– so you tease back, head tilting to the side, “Jeno Lee, are you offering yourself to me on a silver platter?” You furrow your eyebrows dramatically, mouth opening in a mocking gasp. 

In return, Jeno eyes your crossed arms and cocks an eyebrow, “I wouldn’t want to overshadow your crush though.” 

You lick your lips and Jeno stares.

“He won’t have to know.” 

A smile breaks out onto his face and you tear your gaze away, too embarrassed by your own words to face him. You can still feel his eyes on the side of your face so you look down to his jeans, swiftly flicking his upper thigh to direct his attention elsewhere. Anywhere but on you really. 

A short chuckle leaves him before he’s coughing to cover it up, wanting to please you. It’s not long before he too faces your other friends and allows himself to relax a bit, finally rejoining the friendly banter in your circle. 

You don’t question it and Jeno doesn’t express it but the arm he slides over the backrest and around the back of your neck and shoulders means something. The weight of his toned arm feels nice on your shoulders and the touch of his fingertips against the sleeve of your hoodie is almost fleeting, but still present. 

Unconsciously, you smile and Jeno thinks you’ve never been prettier, with his arm around you and a soft blush adorning your cheeks. 

taglist: @0x1lovebot @fairybinie @cherriespopsicle @odetoyeonjun @sensitively-taken @pockyandme @soobin-chois @lolalee24 @junityy @kaimal @laylasbunbunny @jaeyunverse @enhacolor @honglynights @starry-mins @bibinnieposts @yoonzin0 @todorokiskitten @4xiaojun @chokopocky @silverdoragon @neos127 @angelyeo-hyj @dokyeomkyeom @moonkyeom

please do not copy, repost or steal any of my work. all content belongs to @odxrilove

[natt-writes]

~5 Writing tips that actually help~

(These tips are meant for fiction books, especially fantasy. so if you’re writing nonfiction a decent amount of these won’t apply to you. Sorry!)

Find your writing voice.

one of the biggest issues I find in things written by beginners is a lack of emotional connection with the narration. Sure the story can be great, but without personality, without looks into the characters minds, without little quips here and there, it really isn’t all that interesting. Something that really helped me to realize this was a book called the tragical tale of birdie bloom. It’s a kids book but it honestly has such a good narrator (and storyline tbh) that you can look past the little kiddy-ness. I recommend you check the book out if you’re looking for some inspiration. I will be making a post about how to develop your writing and character voices soon so if you want some extra help with that, stay tuned!

2. Get to know your characters.

I know that you all probably already know this, but characters are one of, if not the most important part of a book. Readers don’t want to read about a flat, boring character who just feels like a vessel for the horrifying amount of trauma you add to your story. They want to read about people that feel real, people with flaws and feelings and hobbies and backstories. When I wanted to develop my characters I started going through the drafts, the plot outlines, everything and seeing what the characters did, said, felt. Then I took their basic backstory and started lining things up. Like if a character decided to get into a fight with another character, I would see what had happened to them that might have caused this. Maybe they had been abused as a child and thought that any disagreement meant they had to fight for their life. Maybe this person reminded them of a former enemy. After you start to figure out what connects the characters to the big plot points, you can then start to develop subtle things. You could start writing something, realize this situation would have triggered a character, and then drop subtle hints towards them feeling uncomfortable. Go nuts with it, after all you can never over-analyze a character.

3. Describe things uniquely.

Descriptions are what help us to understand what’s going on in a scene. They can tell us about the tasty drink a character is enjoying, the slick dress that someone is wearing or the way a characters muscles tense when a certain someone enters the room. But sometimes descriptions a fall a bit flat and that can ruin the experience for the reader. Something I always try to remember is to try and come up with new words describe something, for example; “her eyes were a beautiful shade of brown.” Is a very basic and over used description, instead you could try; “her eyes sparkled as she sat across from me, gleaming a rich chocolate shade as the light from the candles reflected off of them”. This is a much stronger sentence as it gives both environment hits and a description of the eyes, all while staying away from overused terms. I often see this theme in stories written by beginners, things being described in a very straight forward manner. And of course this is ok once in a while, especially if this isn’t a very important topic, but it still sounds better when you branch away from that basic sentence structure. I always like to use descriptive sentences to push things forward. Here is another example; “she was wearing a fluffy green dress with lots of lace. She walked over to the door and opened it.” Vs “the lacy trim of her green dress dragged on the floor as she walked towards the door. She smiled wide as she held it open, inviting her guests into the building.” Making strong sentences is very important, so please toy around with different words, structures, etc, until the sentence fits the type of book you’re trying to write.

4. Make trauma realistic.

Yes, even if you’re writing a fantasy book, characters experiences have to be realistic. Something that always gets on my nerves is when writers come up with a good idea for some trauma, so they just give to a character, even when it doesn’t suit them at all. if you are going to give a character trauma you need to explain it, set it up so it actually fits into their character arc, then have the character actually be affected by it. They can’t just randomly be like “I got shot by a dude.” And that’s it if there is no way that character could have gotten shot given their life experiences. Also if you want a character to be relatively unaffected after an extremely traumatic event you have to plan it out so that they have a specific and consistent trauma response that makes them not react shortly after an event like that. Characters are supposed to be like people, and no two people react to trauma the same way, so you do have some leeway if necessary, but people also don’t just stay the same after something horrible happens, they are affected by it and that has to be accurately portrayed. This does get easier the more you get to know the characters though, as soon you will know how they react to things and how to plan trauma that suits them.

5. Make a plot outline.

I cannot stress this enough, make a plot outline. Making a plot outline literally saved my book, and they are really easy to make! I recommend you download a spreadsheet app like XL spreadsheets or Apple numbers but you could even use google docs if you want. You want to put in all the chapters and then give each chapter at least six spots to write scenes. Add a spot for adding the main event of the chapter/a summery of what you have to write. This will help you to understand what you have to write for that chapter and how it fits into the next chapter. After that you start to fill all the scene boxes in with your plot information. Having a plot outline is great as it can be super vague and messy, but still hold all your ideas. It also helps to prevent unnecessary rewrites later, as you can just edit the plot outline before you start writing the first draft. You can even make a plot outline after you’ve started writing your book. That’s what I did and I promise, it still is very helpful. (Example of a plot outline below.)

[x-reader-theater]

Hi!! So glad to see you're back! This website has been a desert of good stories without you here. And thank the gods you are back because I have a bit of a sad request 🤭

How about a COD Ghost x male reader where reader has feelings for Ghost and ghost knows but doesnt reciprocate the feelings and reader dies while they are on a mission?

Only if you want to/feel comfortable with it!

Welcome back!!

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Male!Reader

word count: 750

warnings: Unreciprocated feelings, rejection, and main character death. Please read this as Ghost being an incredibly unreliable narrator. This is from his POV so any feelings he has are his own and not endorsed by the narrative.

a/n: i always get so excited seeing your notifications on my work. thank you for being such a stalwart supporter through it all. your support means the world to me. if anyone else wants to request something, you can find my request rules here to do so.

Ghost knows why you hang around him so much. He knows why you say the things you do and try to touch him at every opportunity. But you haven’t said anything, and he doesn’t want to yell at you and make himself look like the asshole.

But you’re trying to ingratiate yourself with Ghost like Johnny did. You’re not Johnny, so it’s wrong.

“Say, Ghost, you get called on this new mission too?” you ask him, sitting next to him in the cafeteria. Ghost has his mask pulled down. He pulled it back down when you sat next to him.

“No,” Ghost says dismissively, but you don't seem to get the hint.

You shrug with a smile. “Maybe next time.”

“Hopefully not…” Ghost mutters to himself. You freeze beside him, and Ghost realises you heard him.

You curl in on yourself and grab your tray, muttering, “Sorry, I’ll leave you alone.”

Feeling a pang of guilt he’s not used to feeling, Ghost reaches out and for the first time initiates contact.

“Wait,” he says, and you stop, looking at him with his God damned hopeful expression on your face that he can’t help but succumb to. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said it like that. That was rude.” Besides what Ghost is referring to, that’s probably the longest sentence he’s ever said to you. “I know you're attracted to me.”

That hopeful smile drops instantly from your face and hurt, you ask, “Who told you?”

Not a denial. An admission without saying the words.

“No one. I can tell,” Ghost says, and at that admission you feel your hands drop the tray you were holding onto the ground.

“Oh,” is all you can seem to say, your lips staying in that little formed “o” shape.

“I just… I don’t feel the same way,” Ghost explains, his grip on your arm loosening, but you just stand there, arms at your sides.

“Okay,” you get out. It seems you and Ghost have switched, with Ghost doing most of the talking and you giving one word replies.

“Maybe… we can start over,” Ghost supplies in a rare moment of vulnerability that he likes to keep tightly locked in his chest.

“Yeah,” you say, looking down at your shoes, still sounding dejected. “Maybe.”

You and Ghost stand like that for a moment, before Ghost says, “Sorry ‘bout your lunch. I can buy you another.”

You shake your head, as if clearing your thoughts, like what Ghost said shook you from your daze, and you mutter, “‘m not hungry.”

“Oh,” is all Ghost says.

You stand for a good few minutes, probably looking kind of crazy in the middle of a busy cafeteria, but you don't pay it any mind, too preoccupied with what's happening. Ghost is singularly focused on you while you try not to be on him.

“Good luck with your mission today,” Ghost ends up saying finally.

“Thanks,” you murmur, before turning and walking away, leaving Ghost to clean up your spilled lunch.

———

“Johnny,” Ghost says with a relaxed smile as he enters the common room claimed by the 141. Soap is sitting on one of the couches, gripping a folder so tight in his hands the paper is ripping underneath his fingers. As Ghost gets closer, he sees the tightness in Soap’s shoulders and the strained look on his face like he’s about to cry but won’t show that in public. “Johnny, what’s wrong,” Ghost asks, his voice going from flirty and playful to serious in the span of a few moments.

Soap turns to look up at Ghost with wet eyes and says, “[Y/N] is dead.”

Ghost freezes, and his already pale face underneath his mask goes white. “What?”

“He was shot. Price said it was a stray bullet. Caught him in the neck. Said he was a bit distracted today, wasn’t paying as close attention to enemy movements and… well…” Soap trails off, setting down the destroyed mission report on the coffee table in front of him.

Ghost feels sick to his stomach as he leans against the back of the couch for support. Another person who cared about him, dead. And it’s all his fault. Soap would leave him if he ever found out. Johnny loved you. You were one of the best people to keep up with Soap’s ramblings, always there to listen and engage, more than Ghost did.

Johnny can’t know. No one can. And Ghost will take this information to his second grave.

[royalsweetteaa]

Good Intent

Pairing: Dark!Ransom Drysdale x Homeless!Reader

Chapter 2

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

WARNING - This story contains the following: dark themes such as kidnapping, non-con/rape, obsessive behavior/possessive behavior/delusional behavior on Ransom’s part, Ransom being a creep in general, toxic relationship dynamic, Stockholm syndrome on reader’s part, abuse of power, classism, size kink, manipulation, angst, a bit of sad!Ransom, eventual fluff.

Ch. | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

Summary: Ransom is going through a life crisis where he’s miserable and he wants to change things up to make his daily life more interesting. The change involves taking the freedom of someone who he deems is beneath societal suitability.

Narrator’s POV

Y/N’s vision was blurry when she first blinked her eyes open. Being in a room she has never been in before didn’t phase her until she stood up from the bed, her eyes slowly adjusting. She rubbed her eyes before scanning her surroundings, seeing an open door leading to what looked like a bathroom and another one closed, she assumed the door leading outside to, - whatever’s out there.

She felt her heart sink when an eerie memory of the man who came by yesterday had his hand shoved against the lower part of her face, hushing her before it went dark. Have I been abducted? She wondered, while placing her hand to her chest to calm her rapidly beating heart. This was not how she imagined being abducted at all. She had thought of it a few times before after she started sleeping outside on the streets. Anything could happen when you weren’t in the safety of your own home, but she didn’t think it was like this - in a nice bedroom with lots of essential supplies. She assumed those were for her anyway.

She noticed her jacket was hanging on a chair by the corner, which led her to also notice her bra was missing. She knew for certain she didn’t do anything herself to remove it. Did he….

Y/N’s sweat turned cold. She was drugged and unconscious for several hours. What more could he have done to her that she wasn’t aware of?

She stopped thinking of anything else, instinctively grabbing her jacket and sprung to the closed door. To her surprise - it was open. She was now in a hallway, where the end seemed to reach what looked like a living room and a staircase going downwards beside it. Okay, so there are two floors… With quiet steps and her head low, she reached for the door leading outside from the second floor. She cursed when she wiggled the doorknob only for it to be locked. Y/N headed down the stairs instead, scanning the open space, and saw the main house entrance. When no one came into her view, she sprinted towards the door, yet again met with no luck. Not accepting failure - she wriggled the door handle aggressively, hoping somehow it would magically open.

“Someone’s up and early.” A tired voice came from the staircase. Y/N turned her head immediately, her eyes locking with Ransom’s - her abductor. She let out a squeal and proceeded to try and break the glass door with her elbow, only to be met by immense pain. The glass didn’t even get a scratch.

“Now, now, there’s no need for that.” He said annoyed. “The glass around this house is very resistant against minimal impact. You can throw a chair and the glass will most likely be able to take it. You better not test that theory though.” His last sentence hinted a threat.

Y/N looked up from her now wounded elbow and frighteningly stared at him. “What do you want from me? Why did you take me?”

Her eyes followed him to the kitchen which was only feet away from the main entrance. He opened the freezer and looked around through the containments.

“It’s simple really. You rejected me so I took you by force because you obviously didn’t know what my offer implied. You know - my offer to stay at my place? Remember that?” He chuckled as if he had just told her a joke. “How dense can a person be to reject someone like me? You’re homeless for fuck ‘sake! Didn’t know a person like you - the lowest member of society - could deny me. It’s insulting.”

Y/N’s POV

I didn’t know why his cruel words hurt me. He’s the one who’s crazy and took me against my will, yet guilt made its way through my mind.

“I-I’m sorry if I seemed ungrateful but I genuinely couldn’t take upon that offer. I reached out to the youth shelter a couple of days ago and was accepted a place to stay there. They offer programs for an education and I knew it was the right thing for me. But you had to take me away and it’s past 06:00 AM, isn’t it?…” looking out at the weather, I didn’t need an answer to my question. The bus must have driven away a long time ago.

My eyes were threatening to spill tears at this point. “W-Why did you kidnap me?…surely there must be a reason other than having your own ego stroked…are you planning on hurting me?”

I froze when he closed the fridge behind him and walked towards my way, with an item in his hand. His tall figure scared me. He could kill me with his bare hands if he wanted to. I was sure of it. When he stood close enough, he frowned. He must have noticed the way I flinched when he reached his hand out to me. He sighed as if he was growing tired of my paranoia. Could he really blame me?

“Your arm, - give it to me.” He ordered. I did as he wanted, still trying to make out what he had in his hand. He revealed a bag of ice. He turned my arm so that my elbow became accessible to him. I hissed in pain when he pressed it against the sore spot, and he hushed me gently. “Shhh, it’s okay. Luckily for you, you didn’t break anything - from the way I see it. The ice should help easing the pain.” He said, gesturing for you to hold the ice on your own. I did so and let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

Still, the way he would hush at me triggered something within me. He hushed me when he drugged me, and now he did it again. It was a reminder of a much darker side to him, no matter how nice he may act at times.

He stared into my eyes, his hand reaching out to my cheek and rubbed it with his thumb ever so softly. His eyes darted down to my lips. I was embarrassed by the silence and didn’t know where to look, but Ransom’s staring contest ended when he turned around and walked away. I was left confused as to why he caressed my face like that. What is going through that man’s mind?

He turned his head one last time to look at me and said, “You could really use some time to refresh yourself. You’ll find everything you need in the bathroom beside your bedroom.” He then headed to the other room beside the kitchen.

“But you didn’t answer any of my questions….” I mumbled.

2nd person POV

You were back in what you suppose you could call your new room, and you decided a shower would be nice to keep your mind off of everything.

Last time you took a shower was in one of those public showers by the beach near town. That was 6 days ago. You can’t remember the last time you used a bathroom like this though. It was modern and looked brand new, - it had probably never even been used. The shelves were stocked with shampoos, body cream, hairbrushes and much more.

For a moment you were impressed, but dread took over you as you realized this would be the bathroom you use until you somehow manage to get out of here. You had no idea when that would be or if that time would ever come.

Shaking your head, you decided to peel off your clothes and put them on the bed before grabbing a towel and putting it on one of those hangers close by the shower. When you pulled on the shower crane, you thought you heard rustling noises coming from outside but you shrugged it off, assuming it was the water system making them.

It didn’t take long before your whole body was being rinsed by the water coming from the shower head. You let the water soak your face as you closed your eyes, appreciating the peace it was currently giving you. You picked a random soap bar and rubbed it around your skin, the fragrance of coconut soon apparent to your smell. This was nice, you thought to yourself.

This peace would however soon be interrupted in the worst way possible.

The shower cabinet opened. You quickly turned and shrieked when you saw your abductor at full display, naked before you. You were about to duck down in an attempt to cover yourself, but Ransom grabbed you by the shoulder and held you still while closing the shower cabinet behind him.

“Mind if I join you, kitten?” He said with a voice that would have gotten you on your knees if the circumstance was different. He was no doubt very attractive with his face of a Disney prince, his body of a Greek god with his chiseled chest and - Oh. Oh no.

Looking down you saw the most enormous cock you had ever seen face to face, hard and leaking with pre-cum, twitching against his stomach. He was aroused. You were filled with terror as you realized his real intent of being here in the shower with you.

“N-No, get out, Hugh! You can’t be here right now!” You cried out, trying to push him away but he didn’t budge. His hands roamed around your curves, teasing your inner thighs as he was getting closer and closer to your most sensitive parts. His nose nuzzled against your neck, inhaling your scent.

“You smell so good, Y/N…such a good girl. Washing yourself and getting all cleaned up just for me.” He purred, his voice causing my whole body to shiver in delight. “Have you washed your lady parts yet?”

You frantically nodded, hoping to dear life that he wouldn’t go anything further than touching you sensually. “I-I have, I promise! Please don’t touch me! I don’t want this, Hugh, I really don’t!“ tears were spilling down cheeks as you clawed his arms away.

His whole body hunched over you, cornering you in the shower. “Aw, don’t cry, darling. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to put it in today. I just need to feel you, and help you become clean.” He soothed, wiping away your tears. “Fuck, your skin is so smooth. I bet your pussy lips will feel so good against my dick.”

He put some vanilla soap lotion onto his hand and used it to lube his cock. A deep exhale left his mouth as he briefly closed his eyes at the sensation. You looked to the side, still attempting to cover your breasts but you knew there was no point. He has already seen them before.

His other hand reached up to your clit and rubbed it. He had a mission of his own, which was to make this equally as pleasurable for you as to him. He wanted you to give in. Your hands held onto his shoulders at the sudden stimulation.

“Turn around.” He ordered. You looked up at him with pleading eyes.

“No, please..you said you weren’t gonna-,” “And I’m not going to put it in. Didn’t say I wouldn’t do anything at all now, did I?”

He grabbed you by the waist. “Now turn around and ass up - spread your legs, but not too wide.” Your trembling form listened to his command. You were naked and vulnerable. All spirit and hope had left you at this moment. Your fate was sealed ever since he pressed that handkerchief up your face, and it made you regret not leaving the area when you could have.

Now you were here, cornered like prey, about to be devoured by the predator. You were no match to the huge man with broad shoulders and muscles more visible now with his sweater off. Being drugged instead of conscious sounded like a better option to you now.

“Hugh, please…I don’t want to do whatever you’re planning to-!” “You either quit fucking whining or I’ll have to put a gag on you.”

Your mouth shut at his threat. His swollen tip nudged at your butt before seeping between your inner thighs. His cock glided upwards, giving your weeping pussy some friction and making your thighs squeeze together instinctively.

“Ahh fuck, there we go. Didn’t even have to tell you twice. You’re giving my cock the perfect fit between those delicious thighs.” He said amused. “I can feel your pussy throbbing, darling. M’gonna clean her nice with my dick, okay? You’re gonna love it.”

Ransom’s hips started to buck into you, repeating the same motion of dragging his cock out then slamming back in through your thighs. Those moments where he was fully slotted himself in would cause the mushroom tip of his cock to nudge at your clit, making you feel the stimulation that was building up to a potential orgasm. The pleasurable sensation made your knees weak, but thanks to Ransom’s hands, he was able to hold you up.

“That feel good, kitten? Does my cock feel good against your pussy?” You were letting out restrained moans, but you couldn’t hold it any longer as he snaked his hand to your clit again, rubbing the sensitive nub. “Oh, the way you’re moaning, - I just know I’m touching the right spots. Poor pussy hasn’t gotten off in a while, has it? Makes me so fucking hard knowing I’m the first to touch you for a long time…bet you’re fucking tight.”

He stopped pulling all the way out and kept a repeating pace of having his cock constantly dragging through your pussy lips. It made it even more difficult for you to prevent from reaching your climax, which was Ransom’s full intent.

“C’mon, I know you’re close…let go, kitten. Cum for me.”

“I-I don’t wanna, please don’t make me…” you whined to no avail.

“Then I guess I’ll just cum without you….but I doubt you have any resistance left to deny yourself like that.”

He quickened the pace, this time moving one hand to your stomach and closing the gap between your bodies. It was as though he didn’t want to risk you moving away from him when you were both chasing your highs.

“Fuck, ‘m,gonna cum…feels too fuckin’ good.” He moaned, his hot breath tickling your neck. “I’m gonna smear my cum all over your wet cunt. Claim you as mine…”

He was caught off guard when he felt you grinding your hips against his cock, chasing your orgasm with him. It made him grin wickedly. He has you where he wants you.

“o-oh god,” you moaned. “ I’m-,”

“Aaah ffuckk, I’m cumming!” Ransom rasped, shooting his first spurts of his seed onto the shower wall before aiming his cock upwards to smear what was left onto your pussy. His seed blended well with your creamy wetness.

The both of you held still onto each other as you came down from your highs, waiting till your breaths became regulated.

“That was fucking amazing..” Ransom finally said, and gave your shoulder a kiss before removing his softening cock away from you.

He took the shower head and properly rinsed the soap from his cock before turning to you. With his arms wrapped around you, he held the shower head between your thighs. “Spread your legs for me, kitten.” You did as he said, letting out sharp breaths from the way the water steamed on your overly stimulated nub. He hummed, pleased at what he had done to you. “You’re sensitive now, hm? Fucking adorable the way you squirm.” He then turned the crane off and let you go carefully. You remained still with your hands on the shower wall, catching your breath.

He left the shower cabinet before you, handing you your towel which you reluctantly grabbed. You were still experiencing aftershocks from your orgasm, not being able to control the way you trembled. Not only that, but you were in utter shock. A part of you still thought this was a a nightmare, but you knew it wasn’t as much as you wanted to pretend it was.

After standing still for a while, you took a step out of the shower and walked towards the bedroom where Ransom had gone off to. All you wanted to do was to gather your clothes and get the hell away from him.

“W-where are my clothes?” You asked, looking around the bedroom. Your sight was blurred by new tears welling up in your eyelids, making it harder to see.

“Oh, I threw them out in the trash before joining you in the shower. They looked overused and had holes anyway, so I ordered a new set of clothes for you online but its estimated arrival isn’t until tomorrow morning. You can wear my sweater in the meantime.” He said, and pointed to his blue sweater he had placed on the bed.

He must have prepared all of this before entering the bathroom and molesting you.

You held your towel tightly around your body and sat down on the bed. There was only a sweater. No trousers, no underwear, no undergarments at all. Tears were once again spilling down your already wet cheeks. You suspect you’ll be crying a lot for a long time.

“Tsk, tsk, why are you still crying? I know it’s not much but it’s not like I have any spare women’s underwear in my wardrobe.” He said, and put on his trousers.

“You are horrible, Hugh…y-you touched me even when I said no several times. You…..sexually assaulted me. How can I not be crying?” You said and sniffled. Your cheeks were soaked with tears, feeling terrible from what went down only minutes earlier. It made you even more furious that the guy showed no remorse for assaulting you.

Ransom shook his head, putting on the last remaining item of clothes being his socks. “You need to get it together, Y/N. That….that wasn’t what it was. I know you enjoyed it just as much, - why else would you get wet? You were grinding on my dick too, - don’t try to deny it.”

Shame washed over you like a wave. Your body might have enjoyed it, but your mind didn’t in the slightest. You knew he was twisting it but it made you question yourself. Was your body that detached from your mind? Why was it craving to be touched by him when you didn’t want to? You didn’t understand.

“You should get used to it, you know. I’m keeping you for a long time and you’re gonna learn to like it. I can give everything to you, you just need to ask. No more sleeping on the streets, no more relying on shitty shelters. All you need is to depend on me.” He said, caressing her shoulder.

“So, this is it? You just keep me here, give me nice things and force yourself on me? Like some twisted sugar daddy and sugar baby relationship?”

Ransom chuckled at that. “That’s a fun way of simplifying it. But let’s make one thing straight, - it’s not rape if you enjoy it, kitten. Your pretty little head is confused and you don’t know what you want yet but your body makes it clear.”

You were going to protest but he continued as he closed the gap between the two of you. “Our bodies always gives out signals when it wants something, no? Your stomach rumbles when it wants food, the body goes tired and numb when it needs rest, and lastly…” he leaned into your ear, “- your pussy gets wet and creamy when it needs a cock to stuff you full of cum, and I’m more than happy to provide you with that any time.” He whispered against your skin and pulled away after to take a good look at you. “You should listen to what your body wants, or else you might go crazy.”

Your face became flushed, a sense of dizziness overtaking you. “That’s not true, you’re just making things up! Y-You’re trying to justify a crime, Hugh-!”

Ransom captured your lips so suddenly, making your eyes go wide. He pressed the back of your head with his hand so he could deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue in your mouth. He smiled through the kiss as the sound of a moan managed to slip out of you.

“Call me Ransom. It’s my middle name, and I much more prefer you calling me that.” His eyes softened but maintained his signature smirk.

“Get yourself dressed. You’ll find me in the living room. I expect you to be there in less than 15 minutes.”

Wearing the sweater that reached down to over your knees, you made your way to the living room with quiet steps. You had dried your hair with the hairdryer, your hair smelling like lavender. You used a strawberry body lotion after drying your skin.

You liked the smell, and you much more preferred to get rid of that strong firewood mixed with cinnamon scent that supposedly came from Ransom’s cologne. You didn’t want to have any traces of him on your body. His lingering smell, his bruising touches - it made you sick.

From where you stood you could hear a TV was on, and you hoped for dear life Ransom wasn’t planning a movie night. You would not play into his games of pretending like any of this was normal. You still had a lot of questions left unanswered too.

Ransom came into view, already settled comfortably on the couch. He was munching on some cookies while looking at his phone, not paying any attention to the TV right in front of him. You cursed under your breath when your halting step made a creaking sound. Of course it had to do that. Ransom’s head turned to the sound, face going smug when he saw you. He didn’t take his eyes off you while you made your way towards him.

Ransom’s POV

Y/N’s appearance alone brightened my mood instantly. I had minutes earlier gotten a message from one of my latest hook ups, asking if I could come over for ‘a night of a lifetime’. I rolled my eyes at that, remembering how the bitch would moan exaggeratedly whenever I barely even touched her. It annoyed me, but she made up for her fake tits and ass. Despite that, I had no interest in ever hooking up with her again, and proceeded to block her number. I had firmly set up a rule for myself that my hook up days were over.

After all, my new source of entertainment was in my house and wearing my sweater. She was mine to explore this new life style with, and to claim as mine. I knew she was ‘hesitant’ and shy at the moment, but I knew I would make her worship me with my entire being eventually. As she should. She would soon realize the honor of being a Drysdale’s charity case. -

I couldn’t help but frown when I saw her sitting on the other side of the couch, the furthest one could sit from where I was sitting. She could tell by my face expression that I found an issue with her placement.

“Why are you sitting all over there? Still scared of me?” I asked tauntingly.

She seemed to ponder over her response, unsure of what to say. “I guess you could say I am, yeah. I mean, I still don’t know why I’m here and you won’t tell me…- you don’t tell me anything.” She concluded. Her voice was raspy, probably from all the crying earlier.

I looked over at the TV to have a brief distraction. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to tell her everything as it was. It could effect her adapting process if she knew my real intentions. I had told her that all I wanted was her to rely on me, but I didn’t feel it was necessary to admit she was here to fulfill my thirst of having a little plaything to fill the void of loneliness I had succumbed to.

“Want one?” I took out a cookie from the bag and reached it out to her. She shook her head and pulled a pillow to her chest, perhaps out of trying to find comfort. My face turned bitter. Not only was she denying me again, but she was stubborn. I was again irritated that she had the audacity to act like this when I pulled her away from a hell of a life.

“I don’t want anything from you, Ransom. I don’t understand why you picked me for this forced arrangement…you hardly even know me and I don’t know anything about you either. All I want is to be free.”

Ah yes, freedom. As if her freedom provided her anything like I have. What a foolish woman.

I decided then that it would be better to go a little harsh on her, by crushing the little confidence she may have in her. I was always good at that.

“There’s really not much to it other than the fact that I knew no one would be looking for you. I have looked for someone like you to do whatever I please with and you’re perfect. You’re homeless, your family doesn’t love nor care about you, no one fucking cares if you disappear the next day. Worst case is that the shelter you reached out to sends a missing person report because you never turned up, but that’s all hope you’ve got, Y/N. And no one will suspect you’re here of all places. I know for a fact there are no cameras in that street you stayed at and even if someone managed to catch a fucking glimpse of me taking you, you wouldn’t stand a chance against me and my lawyers.”

Y/N was in awe through most of my talk. I stood up from the couch and made my way over to her. “But think of it this way - I actually care about you, Y/N. Like I said earlier, you can get just about anything from me, because unlike you, I have wealth. I am a someone in this unfair world. You on the other hand are at the bottom - in other words, nothing. But I can change that. You need me. Don’t you understand?” I knelt in front of her, staring into her eyes with a stern look. “You have nothing compared to the kind of power I have, so you might as well give up any hope you have left in you. -“ and give into me.

Her lips wobbled, seemingly out of words. There was a long and torturing silence between us, - the two of us were practically holding our breaths until one of us would speak. I longed after a response, for her to tell me I was right and that she was mine. That she is nothing without me. God, if not now I would do everything in my power to break her down until she begged me to fuck her while she praised me at the bottom of my feet. I wanted to caress her in my lap while she begged me to take good care of her - to never let her go. Because without me, she’s fucking done for. It’s nothing but the truth.

But of course, her ungrateful ass would not allow herself to admit it yet. Instead, she looked up with sadness all over face. “I’m going back to my room.” She said quietly.

Y/N rose up, but I grabbed her wrist and pushed her back on the sofa. “No, you fucking won’t. You’re gonna learn to fucking like it here and stop being so stubborn.” I grabbed her jaw and licked a long stripe around her neck before climbing onto the sofa with her beneath me. I kissed her roughly, my hand reaching under the sweater where I found her bare pussy. She was dripping.

She was crying again, and I whispered sweet nothings into her ear to comfort her.

“Darling Y/N, it’s okay, I’m only trying to care for you.”

“What I said was nothing but the harsh reality, can’t you see I have good intent?”

“I’ll give you what you need, don’t worry your pretty little head.”

I unzipped my trousers and let them slide down, my cock was already rock hard from the sight before me. She looked so vulnerable in my sweater, depending on it to cover herself but she knew it was useless to hide from me. She leaned to the side as means of moving away from me but I wouldn’t let her.

“It’s okay, darling, c’mere and present yourself to me. If you’d let me I could make you feel so good. Don’t you want that?”

I stroked her leg before leaning my body against hers. My cock smeared precum on her tummy, the contact making her yelp in surprise. God, she was such a sweet little thing.

We made out for a while as I grinded my body against hers, her legs in the air as I nestled myself between them. We were a perfect fit, our bodies complimented each other so well. She seemed to submit to me soon enough, imitating the same motion of rubbing her pussy against me. I had promised not to fuck her tight little hole yet, and I could live with that. There were so many things I could do instead to rile her up into wanting more. Still, it didn’t hurt to ask. Maybe I had blinded her enough with lust to make her want me inside.

“Do you want me to fuck you, kitten? Hm? Want me to split you open and make a mess for me?” I stopped my movements and waited for her to answer.

She shook her head and whispered a ‘please no’. I could tell she was aroused. The stained couch of her juice beneath us confirmed as much, but I digress. I sighed and removed myself from her. She looked surprised, almost distraught but I ignored it. Instead, I moved myself further away till my face met upon her pussy.

“Alright, kitten. What I’m gonna do instead is to eat your pussy out. Need to taste your creamy juices or it’ll go to waste.” I said before diving in. I explored her, lapping my tongue to her leaking hole before nearing her clit. Her whole body jolted and she let out a breathless moan while her hands gripped onto my head, tangling her fingers into my hair. She wasn’t pushing me away but rather the opposite - she was pulling me in to go further. Good.

My tongue flickered around her folds, salvaging her sweet taste. A familiar scent made its way to my noise and I grinned smugly. “My cock did a good job cleaning you. Smells like vanilla down here.” I snickered.

Y/N mewled, letting out unfiltered noises that went straight down to my dick. My hand reached out to her tit and I squeezed it. I loved how soft they were and how they fit into my hands perfectly. She was exceptional in every aspect.

I was never letting her go from my grasp.

Hearts & Reblogs are very appreciated! <3

[podcastliveblogging]

Okay so I’m a bit late to the fandom (lol) but I HAVE to share my thoughts on The Magnus Archives so far. I’m on episode 100 (season 3), and first of all ALL of the plot twists have rocked me as they happened.

At first everything felt a bit episodic (which makes sense given the nature of the podcast) but as things progressed you could just TELL it was building up to something big.

I LOVED the parts where recordings were being made of action in the Magnus institute in real time. I was expecting something like that based on my experiences listening to a bit of “Welcome to Night Vale” but I was not prepared for all the cool things!!! But that’s not why I’m rambling here.

While listening to the podcast originally I had some critiques about the style. I’ll just say that I LOVE the aesthetic it’s going for with the VHS tapes and the background music (that I know is not canon but used for the effect). However, I was just a bit disappointed because it was clear each statement, written or recorded by the witness directly, had a very distinctive style.

I had thought it was because I’m American that I noticed all the ways people paused in their statements or stuttered in a specific way, but as time went on I was sure it was just Jonathan Simms’ (sorry for my spellings of names by the way, I’ve only heard them spoken so far) style that had all the statements feeling so similar.

They had almost formulaic structure in the way they laid their stories down in a perfect narrative, starting with maybe an anecdote about their childhood or their job and giving great context for how they ended up in supernatural situations. The vocabulary used was way more advanced than was plausible in every statement, even in those who did not have much of a formal education or in direct spoken statements (which in-universe should have been made up on the fly). Especially in the spoken witness statements I was disappointed because people don’t just tell firsthand stories like that.

Im very much a stickler for the details, and things like “how could this story have been written and submitted to the Magnus institute” and “is this really what a person in this position would think/do” and just logistics in general are always in my mind.

Yet despite the writing style poking through, I felt like any other semantics I could have brought up were answered very well by the detail given in the statements, so I was satisfied enough to suspend my disbelief. It wasn’t too hard anyway since the stories were so well-written and captivating. I know it’s really hard to tell a good story while making sense in a meta way, so I just accepted it. The story was very ambitious anyway and I was otherwise loving it!!!!

Something remarkable about episode 100 is that Martin takes his first statement direct from witness. I had to stop listening a few minutes in because something clicked. The statement was super stilted, comepletely different from any of Jon’s taken statements. Martin, instead of getting a story from the witness, had to press for details and got maybe a sentence from each question. There was no story, no context or background, just questions and awkwardness.

In all of Jon’s statements there was never any pause in the story (unless it was interuppted by another person) even though it was a real person reliving the events. It was seriously a narrative. And around this point in the podcast we’re finally revealing the extent of Jon’s powers under the Eye.

Obviously we’ve gotten hints before: a constant feeling of being watched when in the Institute, Jon saying he can feel what the narrator in each statement feels (I also distinctly remember a comment in late season 1 about Jon feeling like he gets sucked into the story until he finishes it, like he loses control of himself. Which in hindsight is definitely an early version of what Jon now experiences), Daisy giving a statement despite being very much against spilling any police secrets or her past.

And now we’re getting strong manifestations that are clearly supernatural: Jon being unable to NOT demand answers of beings that are very much dangerous, the audio recording getting distorted when Jon compels people to give information.

And that last bit specifically, you can just feel that supposed style seeping through into their words, and it’s like the words aren’t completely their own. The context is there and it’s very descriptive.

And that brings me back to Martin. Clearly Jon is privy to these powers as the Archivist. Martin has no power to make people’s statements more useful and it ends up being a mess.

This is a very subtle aspect of Jon’s powers but as soon as I noticed it I was up and jumping around because it was an epiphany. The evidence has slowly been building up to this and it’s likely that this theory was discovered many episodes before 100 as they were coming out, but I just feel like a genius for noticing this, especially since I have always been very keen on details like that. It’s just so satisfying to realize that this aspect of the storytelling wasn’t just a writing quirk but an actual PART of the plot!!!!!

[compassrosegames]

Hooked On You - Analysis

Well, little more than an hour. About 1:20 though closer to 1:10 or so.

The basic premise is that you wash up on the shores of a mysterious island with four eligible ki- ahem, contestants for your romantic interest, all taken from the popular Dead By Daylight. Trapper, Huntress, Wraith, and Spirit. There is also Trickster, who is framed as a "nice guy" antagonist, as well as two "assistants" who are the organizers of this entire escapade (I get a kick out of how they both blink at the exact same time, it makes their occasional psychotic breaks ). As well, the Narrator and the Ocean both act as 3rd person narrators fighting over control of the fourth wall.

Overall it has a lighthearted tone with lots of comedic value, focusing on the ridiculousness of the premise, but leaning into it in a way that feels natural for an audience that is horny for a melange of ghostly murderers. There is also the mystery of how to get off of the island which is hinted at through several of the characters, including the Ocean.

This is more or less a standard visual novel where it takes a novel and breaks it into a quick time event of "How many sentences is this?" and "Oh shit what did I miss." I'm not really a fan of the genre of game just because a novel is easier to read, but this one really hooked me by the second day. The killer's dialogue is well written and they play off each other with very distinct voices. Every so often the player is presented with a choice of dialogue options, which may or may not affect the story further down the line, or even change the course of the current conversation. This allows for a decent amount of replay value as the game is only limited by the amount of text that is made. Mini-games also offer a change of pace while adding a sense of tension.

Which is one of the things that this game takes advantage of, it's Dead By Daylight repair mechanic, a small timing mini-game where the player has to hit a target with a spinner that progressively gets faster. This is notable in it's sheer flexibility, swapping images to make the mini-game more appropriate to the story setting. It can also be inverted where the spinner is an entire plate, and the target is mostly obscured until the 'hole' in the spinner is over it.

Like most dating shows, this game is divided up into "days" and "dates." It takes about half an hour to get through an in game "day" which is usually comprised of a morning, date, evening, and recap. The morning is where the player chooses who they will spend the day with. The date usually involves a quiz of relatively specialized knowledge involving three questions (I got astronomy and mycology). Which impresses your date if you get all three right. In the evening there is another opportunity to connect with another contestant, and then storytime. The recap is simply that, what all of the participants thought of the day. A little break in the tension, as well as a chance to reset everything and see how the killers will act the next day, leading to further anticipation.

Having gone through only about 2 and a half dates, there wasn't much time to really see how the story goes, but it was definitely intriguing and I do want to see one or two of the endings. With a possibility of me being murdered by one of the killers being an interesting option that I had forgotten to consider when booting it up.

Overall, mechanically it was what I expected. Basic visual novel broken up with choices and a versatile mini-game. Story wise I got invested in it far more quickly than I thought. I was skipping like half the text and still felt connected to the characters. Of course I accidentally got Huntress so that probably helped. The overall aesthetic also was well unified, the music, visuals, and relaxed tone of both the characters and the tropical aesthetic.

So this makes me want to take a look into character writing, or proofreading. Being able to give each character their own unique voice is going to be important for this kind of game, and since I am currently my own writer, that would be something to note. Being able to work with the material is also important, having lots of humor works here but it might not based on what kind of story I want.

[breakingarrows]

Morbid Curiosity: Wolfenstein (2009)

Is there anyone real in Wolfenstein? I skate through the city of Isenstadt killing Nazi’s with my weapon wheel armory of guns. Occasionally I’ll come across a resistance member, who stands at the ready waiting for my button press to summon forth their voice. Enemy soldiers have the appearance of conversation but really they’re talking to the player, fulfilling the most basic role of exposition outside of a text crawl or journal entry. Everyone repeats the same message just varied in sentence structure and voice actor. Once the next plot beat is reached they automatically update to begin the next cycle of audio barks played at the player’s whim and for their ear only.

These people aren’t real. B.J. Blazkowicz as the character the player inhabits has the most opportunity to be human, but he merely fulfills the role of action hero. A silent protagonist during all gameplay, Blazkowicz can only be found speaking during cutscenes and narrating his wrapup reports after each story mission. Blazkowicz will work alongside the resistance and kill Nazis, but nobody is real.

Nazis in Wolfenstein are cartoon villains, on display most prominently in the over the top accents during intel narration, and the game keeps track of how many you’ve killed and how, with different counts for dismembered, burned, electrocuted, and dissolved. They exist to be killed using the game’s creative arsenal and not much else. Equal care, or really lack thereof, is given to your fellow brothers in arms.

Allied characters are natives to the town of Isenstadt and led by Caroline Becker and Erik Engle of the Kreisau Circle (the main resistance group), with Leonid Alexandrov and Sergei Kovlov your main contact for the Golden Dawn (a group studying the Veil, this game’s source of supernatural powers), and Stefan and Anton Kreig as your black market suppliers. Each exists in service to the player and nothing else. Each stands in place waiting for you to appear and automatically trigger a cutscene or summon a voice line out of them before moving ever onwards.

Becker is introduced as the wary leader who learns to appreciate Blazkowicz’s ability only for her to be captured, held hostage, and killed off to give the player additional motivation to stop the Nazi’s. Becker can be limply defended as a strong woman in a leadership role, though what details exist of her beside “resistance leader?” Alexandrov serves you with the same suspicion that follows you for most of the game but he, above all others, gets chosen to be your betrayer in the end. The Kreig brothers have the appearance of complexity with a reputation for serving whoever pays, and their comments of the Nazi’s ever-increasing bounty on Blazkowicz’s head hint at a heel turn. Instead near the finale you get an overheard comment, again programmed specifically for the player to listen and learn from, that the older brother Stefan has shot his sibling dead. You go up to Stefan and summon the story to learn Anton was helping the Nazi’s and Becker’s capture was a step too far for sympathizer Stefan. Whether it was truly Anton or Alexcandrov or a combination of the two that were a rumored mole in the resistance is about as complex as the game is capable of getting.

All of these characters get names and dialogue and participation in the plot, but they only exist when observed. Turn the corner and they vanish. Choose to ignore what few you can interact with and they’ll happily stand as a fixture of the environment and nothing more, set dressing to visually indicate to the player that they are not alone, other non-humans occupy this shared space as well. They exist only in reaction to the player, with no agency or depth of their own. Were this an id-tech 1 game the images of the Nazi’s from Wolfenstein 3D, literally 2D sprites who rotate to face you at every angle, would be perfectly fitting for the vacant role they fulfill.

Linear games can sometimes be compared to dark rides, where the player sits and is pulled along a predetermined and rigid track from point A to point B as a highly scripted and structured sequence of images are presented and moved past as you inevitably draw towards the conclusion and exit. Wolfenstein eschews this partially in favor of a structure more similar to a museum where you are free to move from one place to the next, with specific points that will bring you through a sequence of events.

Once a mission is complete you are dumped back into the hub world, a large map split in two, in which you can move about freely. As you progress through the game’s missions the mechanics, enemy types, and equipment from them will find their way into the hub map. One mission introduces a super soldier busting through a brick wall killing your allies with a disintegrating weapon. After that mission, they will now occasionally appear on the city streets with patrols. This exploratory space allows you to become familiar with a layout and a way to lengthen playtime as the sandbox is full of hidden trinkets just underneath a layer of sand for you to collect.

Wolfenstein has all the basic elements required of a first person shooter: it runs at 60fps (a “requirement” we’ve recently been reminded of again with the backlash to Redfall’s 30fps launch), the guns have a nice vibrational kick when fired, swapping between the veil-vision (an entry in the Arkham Asylum school of Detective Mode despite predating that game by a week) and the real world doesn’t destroy the momentum despite running on a decade-plus PlayStation 3 system, and killing Nazi’s with bullets, flames, electricity, and Veil-powered superweapons can remain an foundational joy to build upon. Woflenstein chooses to build with cardboard and time has only degraded its construction.

[bria-doublen-a]

Book Review: Crown of Midnight

Non Spoiler Section

Wow. What a fantastic read! In this sequel to Throne of Glass, we pick up right where we left off. It's been two months since Celaena was announced as the King's Champion and Maas drops us right in the thick of it! Honestly, this book grabbed me by the throat and didn't let go until the very last page.

It's actually pretty difficult to review this book without giving too much away. All I can say is that this story posed so many questions and I was suspicious of literally everyone. But what Maas excels at is her ability to write admirable characters. We get to see sides of these people we had no idea existed. And yet…we still love them.

Even when they're isolated and feeling alone and untrustworthy of anyone. When they make their biggest mistakes. When they're at their lowest. Still. We love them. Now that is proper storytelling.

This book is going to make you laugh, cry and scream at the top of your lungs. Oh, yeah. You're in for a doozy. Highly recommend.

Spoiler Section

So, anybody who read my review for Throne of Glass knows this is my first time reading fantasy. Let me just tell you this: I AM SO IN.

When I read Celaena and Aelin Galanthynius in the same sentence???? I damn near lost my mind. I hooted. I hollered. I jumped around and talked in gibberish to my husband. Are you freaking kidding me? That was so unexpected! You know, the more I read the more I'm convinced that Celaena's not a very reliable narrator. I can't believe we went almost two books without even the slightest hint of her heritage!

AND SHE'S FAE. WHAT?!?! I mean, don't get me wrong, when that Wyrdmark showed up on her forehead during the competition, I knew something was up and I kind of knew that she would somehow be blessed with some kind of Fae magic. But I wasn't expecting Celaena to know. What a secretive little bitch! But that scene was so badass when she jumped through the portal and instantly changed. Dope dope dope!

Okay, enough fangirling. Can we talk about how heartbreaking it was to see Dorian be pushed out of his friend group by Celaena and Chaol? Not only is he going through a change that he knows nothing about, but Celaena's also been needlessly rude to him?

I mean, I get it. She's gotta put up this front and make everybody believe that she's the perfect Champion and loyal to the King. Sure. But she's gotta know that any sideward glance or shadow of doubt cast by Dorian is in response to how eerily accurate and easy it is to play the King's assassin. And to turn around and start dating Chaol when the reason she and Dorian broke up was so she could experience what it's like to be free? That was harsh.

Which brings me to my next point. I HATE Celaena and Chaol. I tried. I really did. But I hate it. Some of those scenes in the beginning were kind of cute like their dinner date and the constant sexing and the broom closet. But then everything turns to shit because Chaol has the Midas touch and it's like Chaol loses every ounce of trust for Celaena. Even though he can admit that he was in the wrong and admit that he loves her and admit all these great characteristics about her, he still thinks the best course of action is to lock her in the dungeon for four days. WTF???

While Chaol was in the doghouse, I loved watching Dorian and Celaena grow close again. Not because I'm officially a diehard Celaena/Dorian shipper now, but because it was what they both needed. Celaena and Dorian spent so much time hurting and feeling like they could confide in no one. I was so relieved to watch them find solace in one another.

And you know what? Despite all those things I said about Chaol, I still like him. I have lots of questions, like why he was so blindly loyal to the crown until now, but I still like him. So, can I forgive him for being a crucial part in Nehemia's death? I think so. But I seriously can't stand the idea of him being with Celaena. The thing that drove me crazy at the end when Celaena's sent off to Wendlyn is that she admits that she loves him and hates him at the same time? He's her greatest love and also her enemy?

Ugh. I wanted to throw up. Like if you don't take your little Fae ass and kiss Dorian already, I stg.

But AELIN GALANTHYNIUS?? FAE???? God, I can't get over it. I'm so ready to dive into the next one!!

[amarguerite]

currently working on an assignment about Persuasion, which means I'm spending entirely too much time thinking about individual sentences, and specifically about the Croft Carriage Scene, and - "[Wentworth] quietly obliged her to be assisted into the carriage" is an incredibly weirdly constructed sentence, the whole passage sort of dances around the act of him helping her into the carriage proper, and it made me wonder - given that the narration (which is heavily filtered through Anne's perspective) gets so odd, and given social conventions re: physical contact, and given how you help someone into a carriage - is this the first time after eight years that Anne and Wentworth are actually, properly touching? because if so that would explain why Anne.exe just fully stops working for a moment

anyway yeah I figured there was a chance you might have interesting thoughts/insight on this. it's almost 5am here, apologies if this is incoherent

I would say yes, yes indeed-- I've always considered this to be the first time in eight years that Anne and Wentworth touched.

My own thoughts are a bit inchoate but in terms of why I think the narration gets odd... I think there's a couple of reasons why the close third person with Anne becomes impersonal and a bit removed from the action:

Touch-starved Anne's overwhelmed so she's disassociating slightly / in too much shock to protest to take in what's happening

To show how social convention both provides a means of physical touch for the two estranged former fiancés, but also imposes a distance. Anne is getting into the carriage because of a social obligation imposed on her by Wentworth and his family-- to reject their offer now would be ruder than accepting it-- and it also provides a space of ambiguity as to the motives behind Anne's initial refusal and Wentworth's initial offer. Anne (and the reader) can wonder if he's motivated by a sense of social convention (gentlemen were expected to have a certain degree of gallantry to the ladies of a party) or by a personal desire not to see her suffer. Wentworth in turn, can be uncertain if Anne gave in after her initial refusal because she still is easily swayed by the arguments of others, or if she refused because she doesn't want to impose or be a burden.

It showcases Wentworth's active nature and social skills. As with the much lauded (and rightly so!) removal of the misbehaving toddler scene, it shows that even on land and in domestic matters, Wentworth is an active participant, who can fix problems as soon as he sees them and in ways that make everyone comfortable, without breaking the harmony of the social contract all members of the Regency gentry tended to value at this point in time.

It shows how Anne and Wentworth still have the capacity to communicate silently with each other-- something that becomes very important later, in the climax of the novel, with the letter-writing scene-- and can use the social dynamics of a group to their advantage-- again important in the letter writing scene. Wentworth here uses the obligation of Admiral and Mrs. Croft's offer to communicate silently (without saying a word, according to the text) to Anne and achieve his objective; later he uses the obligation of writing a letter for Harville and Benwick to once again communicate silently with Anne and achieve his objective of confessing his feelings and proposing by writing a letter.

I think it's also a very subtle little commentary on why Anne broke the engagement: the desire not to be a burden, combined with lack of familial support. She certainly didn't have Sophie and the Admiral in her corner back then. Plus, I think it's a little hint as to what she can expect in future: family that cares for her, that will notice when she needs help and automatically provide it for her.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Hey! Your Eleutherophobia series is perhaps the best fanfic series I’ve ever read, which surprised me because I usually dislike first person narration. Do you have any tips on writing in that style?

Thank you!  What's worked for me: find an author whose first-person narration you like, and copy their homework. Think of it like those art students who go to museums and make sketches of Starry Night or Raft of the Medusa. By imitating what Van Gogh and Géricault did, you figure out how they did it.

A few of the first-person narrative styles that I’ve enjoyed imitating: Never Let Me Go (Kazuo Ishiguro), The Blind Assassin (Margaret Atwood), When the Wind Blows (James Patterson), Pendragon (D.J. McHale), “Drinking Coffee Elsewhere” (ZZ Packer), Christine (Stephen King), Lullaby (Chuck Palahnuik), “How to Become a Writer” (Lorrie Moore), Woman on the Edge of Time (Marge Piercy), We Have Always Lived in the Castle (Shirley Jackson), Screwtape Letters (C.S. Lewis), The Martian (Andy Weir), and obviously Animorphs (K.A. Applegate).  Anyone else’s list probably looks different from mine, since I’m mostly a sci-fi/horror fan, but those are some of my favorite narrators.

Anyway, read a book in first person, and when something cool happens, notice it.  Then stop and do your best to imitate the cool thing, using your own characters.  For example, The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold) opens with this narration about a snow globe.  The entire first chapter, in full:

Inside the snow globe on my father’s desk, there was a penguin wearing a red-and-white striped scarf. When I was little my father would pull me into his lap and reach for the snow globe. He would turn it over, letting all the snow collect on the top, and then invert it. The two of us watched the snow fall gently around the penguin. The penguin was alone in there, I thought, and I worried for him. When I told my father this, he said, “Don’t worry, Susie; he has a nice life. He’s trapped in a perfect world.”

I love that opening.  So I’ll try to imitate it, using a character of my own, Sia.  First of all, I have to choose an object: what means as much to Sia as that snow globe does to Susie?  I’m thinking a camera, since Sia later works as a photographer.  But Susie seems to feel an ambivalence about the snow globe, since the penguin is “trapped” and she’s “worried” about it.  Okay, so Sia’s not just remembering a camera; she’s remembering specifically the digital camera that’s faintly embarrassing to own at all, since she bought it right in the era when personal cameras were dying out in favor of smart phones but she still took years to stop carrying it around.  So that’s what I’m writing about.  How do I imitate Sebold’s style?

Well, there are the long sentences.  I can write long sentences — I love long sentences!  But the long sentences seem to be carefully constructed to lead up to that last zinger (“He’s trapped in a perfect world”) because the sentence before that last one is a run-on that uses a semicolon.  So I need a final sentence that speaks to a broader point about Sia as a person, just like that penguin hints at Susie’s perspective throughout The Lovely Bones (she’s trapped in heaven).

There’s also the relative formality.  “My father,” not “Daddy,” as he’ll be through the rest of the novel.  This feels like a story Susie is telling to a near-stranger she just met on the bus or at orientation.  Why does it feel like Susie’s half-remembering this?  It must be both how “would pull me into his lap and reach for the snow globe” feels like it’s through the eyes of someone very small, and the fact that the word “invert” isn’t one a toddler would use, suggesting this is an adult describing the scene.  There’s only the one line of dialogue, which also gives the impression that most of this memory is in images (“red-and-white striped scarf”) rather than words.  There’s the back-and-forth between past participle “he would turn” and the past perfect “he said,” again imitating the voice of someone telling a childhood story as an adult.

So how does Sia sound semi-formal?  Given her complicated family history, she’d just say “Patrick” rather than “my foster-father” or “my father” or “my uncle who adopted me.”  Sia would latch onto visual details like Susie does, but probably wouldn’t worry about an inanimate object being “lonely;” she’d be scared of it getting tarnished or broken somehow. 

If Sia’s telling an anecdote about sitting on her dad’s lap looking at an object with him, one that hints at her whole life story, it’ll be something mechanical.  I could keep the theme of being “trapped” if the camera “captures” the room... but honestly that doesn’t fit Sia either.  Okay, what if I made it not a digital but a film camera, and I had her open the canister only to destroy all her own work in a flash?  Yeah, that fits her a lot better — it’s a running thread of Sia’s story that she has to be careful not to destroy things, specifically by burning them, and it also fits with Patrick’s characterization to let her make that mistake so that she can learn from it.  Okay, so let’s try this...

The camera on Patrick’s desk was the classic kind, one with a rainbow-hued lozenge of lens peering from a heavy black body.  As a kid I would draw taut its dial just to watch the lever purr back into position.  Patrick would hold it to my eye, letting me choose where to point before together his blunt finger and my tiny one pressed the shutter.  The first time, I pried open the door and pulled the canister into the light, not knowing what I’d done until I asked to see our photo.  Patrick explained, holding the ribbon of film so we could watch it bleach: “That will happen if you remove it, Sia.  If you’re not careful, it’ll burn up in the light.”

There we go.  Not a perfect vignette, but I learned a lot from Sebold while trying.  Repeat that process as often as you’d like.  Keep the parts you want to keep from each author’s style, and discard the rest.

[writerforfun]

8 Rules for Writing Fiction: Tips to Guide Your Writing Process

Protect your writing process. Every single writer will tell you how important it is to stay organized and devoted to your daily work—this will help you get through the rough patches you’re likely to encounter. It can be extremely difficult to get published, and rejection is the norm for most writers. Coping with it will require a balance. You’ll need humility to accept that your work can improve, but you’ll also need a blazing confidence that will allow your creative inspiration to continue flowing.

Find your space. Some authors like to carve out intensely personal space. Authors need to write, no matter the distractions: Jane Austen wrote in a busy family parlor, E.B. White wrote in his crowded living room. Ernest Hemingway and Kurt Vonnegu all worked in the early mornings to limit distractions. Maya Angelou famously rented hotel rooms to get away from daily nuisances. Try to find a space that works for you. It should be free of distractions (a definition that will depend upon your tolerance level) and provide a source of inspiration to you.

Make your writing flow. Some authors are sticklers for the placement of apostrophes, others swear by modern, free-form structure. Regardless of which you align with, your writing should still flow well and be easy to understand. Cut out any superfluous adjectives and adverbs (a likely result of an overly enthusiastic dive into the thesaurus in search of just the right word) and try to eliminate passive voice in favor of active voice. Make your writing more active by looking carefully at your word choices, getting rid of generic words and clichés, and choosing concise phrasing.

Experiment with narrative point of view. Point of view is the “eye” through which you’re telling a story. Most novels are written in one of two styles: First person, which involves a narrator who tells their story. (“I ran toward the gate.”) Or third person, which is the author telling a story about a character. (“He woke up that morning.”) While first person narration can provide intimacy, it is also limited by the perceptive abilities of the character. This can be useful when creating an unreliable narrator or when creating red herrings. Third person narration is a more flexible choice. It allows you to switch between characters’ points of view. You can even zoom in and out from complete omniscience (a narrative voice that has access to all information in the novel) to what’s called a limited or “close” third point of view (a narrative that adheres to a single character).

Believe there’s no such thing as writer’s block. Writer’s block is often an overwhelming feeling of being stuck. You’ve written part of a novel, maybe you’ve even finished an outline, but you just can’t move forward. Every time you sit down at your desk, your mind goes blank, or you can’t decide what to do next. This experience is common among writers, and there are ample tools for working through it. Take a break from the work, do something else for a while, and return a few days (or week, or months) later to view your draft with a fresh eye. The most important rule is to keep moving, whatever that means for you.

Focus on character development. Character and event are inseparable—a person is defined by the series of events that happen to them. In a novel, a character interacts with events over time. Your job as a writer is to learn about your main character by observing how they interact with the world around them. Characters—like real people—have hobbies, pets, histories, ruminations, and obsessions. They have a backstory. It’s essential to whatever you’re writing that you understand these aspects of your character so that you are equipped to understand how they may react under the pressures of events they encounter. Ideally, your characters will be distinct enough to be memorable, but for all those minor characters who are emerging in your novel, it’s good practice to provide hints that will help the reader distinguish who each character is, so they can remember their various story arcs.

Find balance in the types of sentences you use. In all writing, there are two types of narration: scene and dramatic narration. In scene, you show the characters performing an action or having a conversation. This tends to speed up the pacing. In dramatic narration, you simply tell the reader what the characters did, but the event remains “offstage.” This type of narration can slow the story down. To keep pacing from feeling monotonous, it’s a good idea to vary the two modes of writing. For some writers, that means breaking up long flowing sentences with sentence fragments on a paragraph-to-paragraph level, while others switch tones between chapters.

Get your story down on paper. Focus on getting through your first draft from start to finish, and remember that you can always go back and change things later. If novel-writing feels too intimidating, try writing a short story instead. (Though short stories can be deceivingly more difficult to write than novels since they require a concise and extremely economical narrative containing all the elements of a novel—in a fraction of the space.) You can begin with the first chapter, or you can use an outline—you can choose to approach your story in any order that feels right for you. You will inevitably make changes to your original plan along the way, and this is a good thing. If tracking your word count feels empowering, set up daily goals. If you prefer to let your words of prose flow in a self-determined fashion, be kind to yourself and respect whatever output comes.

Article source: here

[bookofmirth]

lele I think this fandom needs to have "unreliable narrator" taken away from them until they learn how to use it correctly. why do I see so many comments about how acosf is a more accurate depiction of everyone because it's 3rd person "omniscient" (which isn't true) and 1st person is just so unreliable? 😭

first 👏 person 👏 is 👏 not 👏 inherently 👏 unreliable

We know *LESS* about the world in first person narration, but what we know isn't necessarily WRONG.

In fact, given the way that sjm writes, there is no reason to assume that anything Feyre experienced is actually wrong because sjm doesn't use first person in order to trick the reader! There are other reasons to use first person narration that have nothing to do with being a big ol' liar.

We may as well dismiss everything that a first person narrator has ever said as untrustworthy if that were the case, but it's NOT THE CASE. The main thing to be aware of with first person is that there are facts that the MC is unaware of, but really talented writers can still give us that information without the MC being aware. SJM is not one of those writers who does that, which is fine. But there is zero reason to mistrust what Feyre felt, knew, and experienced, just because she was the one telling the story. Her "view" of the IC is just as valid as Nesta's because they are unique individuals who have different experiences, values, goals, etc.

acosf is NOT more accurate. It's just not!

We got Feyre's perspective in acotar through fas, and now we have Nesta's perspective. It's not even omniscient because we don't get any information that Nesta (and sometimes Cassian) are not also privy to. We are still limited to knowing the world through their experiences.

You know how I know? This is just one example, but we had ZERO hint that the Dread Trove existed until we were in the room with Nesta, reading as she listened to Amren describe it. If the story were truly omniscient, and if it were truly *not* tied to Nesta's (skewed!) perspective, then we, the readers, would have been able to know or figure out the existence of the Dread Trove before Nesta did. But no. We are still limited to her perspective in acosf!

Another reason I know that acosf is NOT objective and NOT "more" true than any other book in the series, is that I was able to read a sentence and think "um, no, that's actually not true, that's just how you see it, Nesta". E.g. when she thinks about how she's worthless, I know that that's not true, but it's how she feels. When she thinks that Elain is like a dog, I knew that wasn't true. When she thinks about how Feyre and Elain chose other people over her, I knew that wasn't true. Why would anyone want any of those statements to be "objectively" true just because of how those thoughts were conveyed to us???

I haven't seen these posts so idk what people are saying, but the thing that annoys me is that these are potentially really interesting conversations about how the characters shift once we focus on someone who has a very different relationship with them, but I suspect that people say things like this and then tag the posts "pro Nesta" and "anti Feyre". If I'm wrong then that would be great! I just wonder, what is the reason behind trying to argue that Nesta's book is more "accurate" than the 3.5 we got from Feyre's perspective?

Writers and literary critics don't talk about first person narration as a way to prove that one character is "better" than another, it's about craft and the allowances and constraints of first person versus omniscient, or third person close. 💀

WAIT I also want to add on that "unreliable narrator" isn't something that this fandom needs to discuss ever because it's just not a feature of this series, unless it's to talk about something like... what Eris and Mor say about what happened between them. But even then, we already got her POV, so...

[inexplicably-spookified]

hi i have thoughts and opinions about mr quotation marks cave story

...that i am putting under a readmore to not clog up dashes

so first part, i wanna talk about his canon characterisation - it's not much, but it's there:

- he doesn't have much hesitation on who or what he fights

- doesn't seem to have much understanding or doesn't care about taking things that don't belong to him if it'll help him progress

- however, he's capable of being curious and caring about people - he asks several residents of mimiga village about sue even before he knows who she is (albeit most likely because he overheard her name in kazuma's transmissions), and most importantly steps away from the core, his target, when misery threatens sue's life, showing he can prioritise others' lives over his mission

- zett (the old mimiga in the plantation) hints at this, describing how some robots during the war seemingly understood the mimiga, and he believed they 'possessed hearts and souls'

- while he doesn't emote much, he's visibly looking kinda angry when fighting misery in the credits art - and he's using king's sword

also this is debatably canon but if quote's the one narrating stuff like inventory descriptions then:

- he notices the silver locket must've been dear to someone from the wear on it

- thinks itoh is a 'big fat coward' (LMAO)

- describes curly as 'the only person he trusts' and hopes to see her again

second part, my personality takes:

- doesn't like to speak, both due to some lingering physical damage making it a little tricky (he trails off into static a lot unless he's concentrating and it frustrates the hell out of him) as well as his general quiet nature

- when he does speak out loud, it's very, very to the point and short sentences, prefers to communicate through gestures or radio transmissions, and later on learns some sign language

- incredibly bad at talking about his feelings/trauma. curly and rarely sue/kazuma can draw it out of him sometimes but it takes a lot of effort and he usually clams up again pretty quickly. he has issues :(

- post-island he has a lot of anxiety about not being there to protect people from all the times he's arrived just too late to stop something bad from happening, and when he's around others he likes to know where they are at all times otherwise he gets worried

- talked about it earlier but he doesn't emote much, and has his own subtle ways of expressing his mood/showing affection. his equivalent of telling someone he likes them a lot is literally just sitting quietly in their general vicinity lmao. will get up and follow you if you move. he's like a dog.

- it's a general quirk with some kinds of learning AI but both he and curly have an unconscious habit of mimicking random habits of others that they spend a lot of time around - ie. if he's around someone who rocks on their feet a lot he'll start to do it too without even realising it. curly has a lot of slightly mimiga-like habits as a result.

- initially he went along with helping stop the doctor bc he just. didn't know how to say no - nobody ever really told him he could, or gave him a choice otherwise. has mixed feelings about the fact that the only time someone actually asked him what he wanted was kazuma asking him if he wanted to escape the island (he said no because by that point he was kinda personally invested - he promised booster he'd rescue sue, promised king he'd avenge him, wanted to beat up mis/balrog/the doctor for what they'd done, etc etc etc)

- because of this, he doesn't really like to be called a hero/compared to arthur as he feels he doesn't deserve it since he was just following orders in a sense

- he's a bit better at saying no post-island but can still be very easily talked into doing dumb stuff. a little naive lol. sue takes advantage of this a lot but tones it back after momorin gets mad at her for teaching him swear words.

- unlike curly he doesn't fidget much when bored, is perfectly happy to just sit still and silently if he has to, though he does have a curious side and will inevitably get up and explore his environment

- very impulsive. if he wants to do something he will try and do it asap. not the best at anticipating consequences but it's not out of malice or stupidity, he just kinda. forgets it in the moment sometimes.

- like a crow, he picks up random stuff that he finds interesting without much thought for what it is or who might own it. his pockets are full of random keys.

- enjoys climbing up stuff ('why is quote on the kitchen counter?' 'he likes to feel tall')

- cares for the researchers and especially the sakamotos a lot, they're his favourites (after curly, of course) <3

- some mixed feelings about balrog but ultimately trusts he's redeemed. isn't quite sure at all what to think of misery.

- doesn't want to get his memories back as he trusts curly's telling the truth and has given him all the important info - his name, why he was on the island, and that he wasn't a mimiga killer - he'd rather just move on with who he is in the present rather than try and chase after his past. the two have some conflict over this but i have written way too much already so i will talk about it some other time LMAO

[perpetual-stories]

A Complete Guide To Different Points of Views

happy Friday everyone! Is doing well, I know I’m trying to do better a bit every day.

it’s hard but I think I am doing better...

What Is Narrative Point of View?

Point of view is the “eye” or narrative voice through which you tell a story

you must decide who is telling the story, and to whom they are telling it

Three Types of Point of View

There are three primary types of point of view:

First person point of view. In first person point of view, one of the characters is narrating the story. This is generally revealed by the “I” sentence construction and relies on first person pronouns. (“I went to work.”) The reader assumes that this character is closely related to the story’s action—either a main character or someone close to the protagonist. First person narrative can provide intimacy and a deeper look into a character’s mind, but it is also limited by the perceptive abilities of the character. They are confined to report only what they would realistically know about the story, and they are further confined by their own perspective. Nick Carraway of The Great Gatsby (1925) by F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ishmael of Herman Melville’s Moby Dick (1851) are two of the most well-known first person narrators in literature and great examples of this point of view

Second person point of view. Second person point of view is structured around the “you” pronoun, and is less common in novel-length work. (“You thought you could do it.”) Second person can allow you to draw your reader into the story and make them feel like they’re part of the action because the narrator is speaking directly to them. Writing in second person for any great length is a challenge, and will stretch your writing skills. Lorrie Moore is well-known for her innovative use of second person narration in her short story collection Self-Help (1985). Second person point of view is sometimes referred to as second person POV.

Third person point of view. The author is narrating a story about the characters and refers to them with the third person pronouns “he/she.” (“He was hungry.”) This point of view is subdivided into third person omniscient and third person limited. Third person point of view is sometimes referred to as third person POV.

What Is the Difference Between Third Person Omniscient and Third Person Limited?

omniscient narrator knows everything about the story and its characters

This third person narrator can enter anyone’s mind, move freely through time, and give the reader their own opinions and observations as well as those of the characters

think of the omniscient narrator as having a god’s-eye-view of the characters. (“He had been infected with the virus, but he didn’t know it yet.”)

third person limited point of view (often called a “close third”) is when an author sticks closely to one character but remains in third person

This style gives you the ability to be inside a character’s thoughts, feelings, and sensations, which can give readers a deeper experience of character and scene. (“As she watched him leave, she was afraid he’d never come back.”)

How to Choose the Right Point of View in 4 Easy Steps

Try different points of view. The only way to decide the best point of view strategy for your novel is to try different ones. Likely, you’ll know the right one for your story because the writing will begin to move more quickly, and you’ll feel momentum. First person allows you to create intimacy by granting the reader access to your character’s internal monologue. Second person is often made as a stylistic choice; it is a powerful yet potentially overwhelming narrative device that can evoke feelings of confusion or claustrophobia. Third person narrative is a more flexible choice than first or second person. It allows you to switch between characters’ points of view. You can even zoom in and out from complete omniscience to limited or “close” third point of view.

Once you pick a point of view, establish it right away. Whichever narration style you use, it’s important to establish your point of view quickly. Always let the reader know which character’s perspective you’re following in any given scene. If you’re using third person, you should use the character’s name early in the section. Even a simple statement like “Robert felt tired” is enough to convey this information. While you’re in a point of view, stick to it. For example, if you’re narrating from your hero character’s perspective and, in the middle of a scene, you suddenly switch to the point of view of a different character, the disruption will jar your reader out of the story.

Be aware of limitations. Point of view is an essential tool in character development. You’re describing the world through their eyes and letting the reader know what they think and feel. You’ll need to be aware at all times what your characters’ limitations are. Review your writing frequently to scan for mistakes you might have made in giving a character information or opinions they wouldn’t normally have.

Change it up. You don’t have to be tied to one point of view throughout your novel; some novels move from first to third or first to second. But it’s important to note that when you establish point of view, you are creating another type of contract with the reader: that you will adhere to that point of view for the course of the scene. It’s all right to have different subplots told from different points of view throughout your novel, but you should treat each point of view as an individual section or chapter.

Four Ways to Use Point of View

Create suspense. When a reader knows more than the character, as in Bram Stoker's Dracula (1897), and your reader waits for the character to learn what they already know. This tension will keep your reader on the edge of their seat.

Create an unreliable narrator. When a first person narrator knows more than the reader but withholds information from the reader on purpose, in order to manipulate them. Gone Girl (2012) by Gillian Flynn and Rebecca (1938) by Daphne du Maurier are brilliant examples of unreliable narrators.

Create comedic irony. When a first person narrator knows so much less than both the reader and the other characters that it creates comedy. In this strategy, the reader is laughing at the narrator, rather than with him or her. Examples include Gulliver in Gulliver’s Travels (1726) by Jonathan Swift, in which a plain-spoken narrator tells whoppers with a straight face, and A Confederacy of Dunces (1980) by John Kennedy Toole, in which the narrator complains about the ineptitude of other characters, when he is clearly the most inept character of all. An omniscient narrator can also satirize all a story’s characters, as Voltaire does in Candide (1759).

Create tragic irony. The characters know less than the reader. Narrative irony also involves foreshadowing, when the omniscient narrator leaves hints for the reader about something that will happen in the future. When a tragic event has been foreshadowed, but the characters don’t see it coming, a sense of irony is created. You can also create tragic irony in first person point of view, but you have to walk the fine line of having your narrator foreshadow while remaining truly ignorant of what’s going to happen.

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