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isalisewrites · 11 days

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A Deep Dive into JKR's Terrible, Amateur Writing - Reflective Interlude

Hello and welcome to my ballsy series where I will prove to you, dear reader, that J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series and resident Twitter TERF, is actually a very, very poor writer.

And when I say ‘poor writer,’ I’m talking about her prose, her sentence structure, and her scenes in the Harry Potter series. I am not going to discuss anything about the HP world nor the overall plot of the books.

This is all about the nitty gritty in the craft of writing itself.

Part One Link.

Part Two Link.

However…

Hiya! *waves* I’m Isa, the author of this… Actually, I dunno what to call this series anymore. Anyway, thus far, you’ve heard a very satirical tone from me in the previous two posts, but that’s not my normal tone. I’m a rather laid back kind of gal with a side of sarcasm and deluge of emoji usage.

I have used quite a confident, even bombastically obnoxious tone in the effort to be entertaining and engaging with these posts. It was meant to be playful and sarcastic. It’s the internet, so I’m aware everyone’s attention is… kind of like a commodity, unfortunately. Look at TikTok or YouTube. How long does a 30s video hold your attention before you’re scrolling to the next? It depends for me, I’ll admit. People don’t have the attention span for long style posts such as these and that’s fair. Sometimes, I don’t either.

Thus, I used repeated ‘catch phases’ to maintain a rhythm and a thematic style through the series with a controversial title meant to hook a reader. I repeat the opening, even in this post. I repeat ‘Class is in session’ to show the beginning of the major section of the post.

However, in this interlude, I’ve toned it all down because I wanted to give you a window into my heart, my purpose, and my intent in this series. It is a reflective post that ends with writing motivation to you, my dear reader, as well as links to writerly resources.

I’ve had a lot to think about this week and I realized that many writers (and other creatives) have to battle against an enemy found within themselves. This enemy often torments many with cruel, destructive thoughts; they burrow their way into so many writers’ minds. It whispers: “Can you really do this? Are you really sure you’re any good? Aren’t you just fooling yourself? They’re going to find out you’re just a fraud. So… why bother?”

Whose voice is that?

Let’s talk about the destroyer of creation, Imposter Syndrome, why I refuse to let the bastard infect me anymore, and why my confident tone in previous posts has grated nerves.

Remember: take what resonates and leave what doesn’t.

(This means I write my posts with the honest acceptance and expectation that not everything will fit with your style, your vibes, or your personality. That’s okay.)

All right, let’s buckle up, my dear writing friends. Grab a snack. Hydrate. Let’s begin. And yes…

Class is in session on this little Tumblr post… should you wish to attend.

Having confidence or pride in one’s work seems to be taboo. Any brief moment in time where I tried to be proud about my writing or say, Hey, I’m a good writer, I was always told to be humble. “Don’t be prideful. Be humble.” It would often chip away at my self esteem. I could be a good writer, but I couldn’t allow myself to feel like a good writer.

But no more.

I have only given myself permission to be confident about my writing within the past month. This is why I started this series in the first place. I wanted to share knowledge and in an entertaining way. I make a bold claim that I’m a better writer than JKR; I analyze her writing to both improve my own understanding and to help others as well.

However, this does not mean I’ve ever been under the delusion I’m perfect. Absolutely not. God, that’s so fucking laughable! I am not perfect. I am not a perfect writer. I definitely don’t know everything. Someone once corrected me, informing me that snakes are venomous, not poisonous. Bless them, wasn’t aware of that. Immediately fixed that. One of the recent reblogs said geodes do not contain emeralds. God bless, I didn’t know that, though in the case of how it was used in TBG, I won’t be changing it since it’s within a character thought.

Sorry, Tom. I guess you need to take a geology class, too.

Ugh, and I have so many godforsaken typos. My soul withers when I catch a typo after I’ve posted a chapter. I miss things all the time. I repeat things because ‘that’s my thing’ and I don’t always catch them in my edits. I forget things all the time. Thank GOD for Dede, someone who loved TBG so much she spent countless hours archiving data from it, where she caught a number of inconsistencies and alerted me to them. I still haven’t been able to fix them yet, but I’m so grateful to her. I’ve noted them all down. Harry’s height often is incorrectly implied to be taller than it should be because my brain isn’t wired for imagery. My brain forgets TBG Harry is a short king at 5’4” while TBG Tom is 6’2” and I need to go back to fix all of those.

I am not a perfect writer and I don’t claim to be.

My goals with this series are to study/learn for myself, teach/share knowledge with others, and learn some more from this experience. I love this kind of analysis. But there’s difference between my analysis of JKR’s writing and a number of those who have retaliated with an analysis of my writing.

Instead of looking at my imperfections with the desire to learn from them, they were illuminated in the attempt to ‘take me down a notch.’ To those who put in the effort to make counterpoints, I do thank you for your contribution to this series. It is appreciated, even when given impolitely and with the intent to ‘put me in my place.’

Despite all of my errors and imperfections, I still stand by my statement: I am a better writer than J.K. Rowling.

Do you know who else is a better writer than her? I could list thousands of them. They’re fanfiction writers. They’re indie authors. They’re other traditional published authors. They are so many other writers that, yes, I do think are stronger writers than JKR.

And you’re a better writer, too, so long as you wish it.

I sincerely want you to believe that.

Why? Because it’s clear within the Harry Potter series that JKR did not make attempts to grow as a writer. She just wrote. Perhaps she was under deadlines, but the lack of editing is pretty apparent to me. When you write a lot, you will inevitably get more skilled over time, but you have to actively be seeking improvement to see drastic change in your own skill. It is this lack of drive that I see within her work. She’s not making attempts to push the boundaries of her abilities and skills with each new book.

I’m not at the end of my journey of learning. I never will be. I love expanding my skills. I’m even learning during the process of writing these posts, too. I’m seeing more weaknesses in my own work and I’m now thinking on ways to strengthen my writing even further.

That’s the point of this series.

In the end, it’s not really about me. No, really, it’s not about me. I truly think it’s about the jealousy of seeing another writer be confident in their work. You see, I’m not supposed to be confident; I’m not supposed to act like I can help and teach others to write. How dare I. Posting anything about my work is an act of attention seeking. I’m supposed to be ‘humble.’ I’m supposed to be silent. I’m supposed to wave a shy, dismissive hand at compliments.

Why?

Why is being proud of one’s work and loving one’s own work such a controversial idea?

Imposter Syndrome often cripples creators. There’s already so much self doubt and anxiety in the world, but Imposter Syndrome can really wreck with a creator’s mind. It’s a poison. It stops you from creating what you love most. When you believe you aren’t good enough, then it becomes harder to try. Your belief becomes truth to you, whether or not it was true in reality in the first place. Perhaps, you sink into depression. You become anxious about sharing anything, for fear anyone might say even the slightest negative comment. The heart becomes fragile and brittle, and the muscle which builds skill atrophies over time. You see your work through a lens of self hate. You can only see flaws.

“I will never be good enough.”

When you’re in this state of mind, it’s hard to see the truth about your work.

But let me promise you something: your writing is far more beautiful than you realize.

In spirit, all creative writing is perfect to me with all of its typos and mistakes (yes, even all of the Harry Potter books!), but no single work is objectively perfect. There will always be room to improve your creation because you’re constantly growing. It’s why so many aspiring novelists fall into an endless cycle of editing their first few chapters. The more they write, the more they improve; thus, when they go back to their earlier chapters, they get stuck trying to update those chapters instead of pushing forward to the finish line.

Your work is valuable, no matter what. It’s beautiful. You’re allowed to love your work. You’re allowed to see the good in it and you’re allowed to have confidence in yourself. You’re allowed to say to yourself and to others, I’m a damn good writer.

You deserve to have love, for yourself and for your art.

I have often sincerely complimented other writers and, many times, after they respond with their thanks, it becomes clear to me they’re not confident in their work, yet they have still bravely shared it with us.

I’m so proud of them. Thank you for your bravery.

My heart breaks for them, too. They’re such good writers—such damn good writers. And I wish they knew and believed this.

I will always do everything in my power to encourage others.

How do you feel about your writing? Do you like your writing? You should. You really should because it is good. You created it, after all. There will always be space to grow and refine your craft, of course, but you are a good writer now. You’re going to be a better writer tomorrow and the next day, so long as you desire this growth in yourself. There’s no destination, though. There’s no magic level you have to reach before you’re allowed to have some confidence in yourself and your abilities. The only trap to avoid is remaining stagnant. Writing is a skill. Writing is a craft. This means it gets better through study and practice.

You can achieve that.

I know it’s hard, though. There are so many naysayers in life. There are so many people waiting to attack and bring others down, both on the internet and in our own families. How many precious fanfics have been lost because a writer received horrible, hateful comments? How many writers have disappeared from the internet because of this cruelty? We have lost many in all fandoms. That is unacceptable to me.

Uplift others. Spread love, not hate.

You’re allowed to be proud about your work, imperfect as it may be. Please, I beg you, don’t let the negative voices of others—including your own!—drag you down and steal the joy of creating. I know it’s so very, very hard to stand strong against such voices. Words have power, but you have more. Resist the naysayers.

What you have to offer the world is precious. Please lift your head and acknowledge that what you create is good. It’s great. It’s amazing. It’s fucking fantastic. You’re not an imposter nor a fraud. No one can offer what you can to the world. No one can write the stories you have in your head the way you can. Your style is unique to you. You’re allowed to love it as it is now and you’re allowed to love it whatever form it takes in the future.

Imposter Syndrome is a thief; toss it into jail and throw away the key.

My writing is not perfect and it never will be, but I’m a better writer today than I was ten years ago. I’m a seeker of my own growth. I’m often reading books on writing and watching YouTube videos on writing. I absorb it all because writing is my truest love and passion. My style has evolved from reading endless amount of novels and fanfics. I devour both.

But I wasted a decade thinking I didn’t have what it takes.

And life is short. I can’t waste anymore time.

Don’t be like past Isa, please.

There’s a difference in refinement between an episodic fanfic posted over the course of years and a traditional novel published in whole, but I still stand by my work. I recognize my style will not be enjoyed by all those who read it. It’s okay if you don’t like my style. I’m eternally grateful for the many readers who do love my writing. I’m humbled and honored by the sheer volume of people who have commented, bookmarked, and have left kudos on my work. Thank you.

My style has evolved into what it is today due to a combination of two things.

I have ADHD. It’s why my style uses smaller paragraphs as a whole.

I have aphantasia. I lack a mind that can visualize pictures. I literally cannot see anything in my mind. When people say, “I can picture it in my mind,” that’s not me. I cannot at all. When there’s a lack of description in prose, it feels blank and empty to me. This is why I use vivid descriptions in the way I do because otherwise I feel nothing from my work.

It’s okay if this style doesn’t work for you. I love my style because it caters to what I need. I also love other styles that don’t use as much description; however, I can’t always follow what’s happening because of the wiring of my brain. I can get lost sometimes, but I still appreciate their style because I can’t effectively do what they can.

If you find no value in my style and what I offer in this series here, then that’s okay. I’m not offended. This series is for those who benefit from it. For you, there are so many other writers out there from whom you can learn and I’m more than happy to send you in the direction that benefits you the most.

Here’s a list of YouTubers you might find interesting.

ShaelinWrites has been working on many unpublished projects through the years and has lots of great discussion videos on writing.

Abbie Emmons is a self published author with solid writing advice in all of her videos.

Alexa Donne is a traditionally published author with great insider information into the traditional publishing world.

Ellen Brock is a professional editor. She knows her stuff.

I hesitantly suggest Jenna Moreci and her content on YouTube because I think she has some major weaknesses in her writing. Many others have seen this about her books. However, she is a successful indie author and her YouTube content has a lot of value.

Brandon Sanderson has an entire college course in a playlist on his channel. It’s a fabulous free resource if you vibe with his style of writing. Highly recommend.

Here’s a list of writing books I recommend.

Elements of Fiction Writing, a five book series. My TOP recommendation is Elements of Fiction Writing - Beginnings, Middles & Ends.

Sin and Syntax: How to Craft Wicked Good Prose

Let the Crazy Child Write!: Finding Your Creative Writing Voice

Novelist's Essential Guide to Crafting Scenes

All right then.

Thank you for sticking around. I hope you accept this post in the good faith it was given and was always given in the previous posts. Next post, I’ll be returning to my playful satirical tone. Hehe~!

Please do the world the greatest of favors and write. Create. Share your fanfiction. Become best selling authors, traditional or indie. I promise you’re far more capable and skilled than you realize.

Until next time.

Isa

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idyllvcs · 1 year

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WHAT A STRANGE.. NOVEL?

Ⅰ. AYATO X FEM!READER ⅠⅠ. TAGS : fluff, slight kissing, established marriage, fem! reader, uses of pet names like; my wife, dearest, darling, teasing (?idfk how to write people teasing each other) physical touch, overall ayato just teasing u for reading smut ⅠⅠⅠ. WC : 1.01k ⅠV. SYNOPSIS : ayato finds out you read smut lololol english isn’t my first language, sorry ! + and i didn’t do a spelling check V. A/N : ayato brainrot, like seriously and i haven’t written for what i hope is not more than 2.. months?

it’s not so strange for ayato to see your nose buried in whatever book you acquired from yae publishing house. for some reason, despite his qualities that you’d once described as vexing and almost mischievous, he had never pried into the light or heavy novels that occupied half your days.

even on days when he ignores the piling mountain of his work with no hesitation to indulge in your touches and bury his face into your shoulder from behind, ayato would often let out a huff seeing how your attention span was sucked away by the novel in your hands. he’d argue he’s not the jealous type, especially over an inanimate object! yet curiosity kills the cat and he found his violet gaze scanning your bookshelf when you were away dealing with public affairs.

if there’s one thing you have learned, silence is never a good thing. perhaps in a scenario where your husband is burying himself in his paperwork or just sleeping soundlessly then maybe it is. however, after coming home, your eyes dart to his empty desk– he was not there. your mind wanders to whether he is sleeping– he does not sleep at this time. all questions were answered when you slid open the shoji door to your shared bedroom gently and were greeted with the delightful sight of ayato flipping through a novel you recently bought.

“...is that what occupies your free time, dear wife?”

you found yourself getting flustered when your eyes glaze over the title.

“so am i not allowed to read?” you asked with a clearing of your throat but there was a slight crack– a slight hesitation to your voice when the corner of his lips tugged into a cunning smirk.

ayato shuts the book quickly with one hand, a gentle clap when the pages meet each other, and he places it down on a nearby surface. the rough pads of his fingertips brushes over the engraved title and he let out an amused chuckle. you, in contrast, let out a bemused one. he shook his head in response to the question.

any pliant and naive person would feel relieved if they ever saw such answer but you are not ‘any pliant or naive person’-- you were his wife and you knew the lingering undertone in his gaze and demeanor all too well.

“you are allowed to read, i have no objections…” he trailed off and you mentally thanked the almighty shogun he didn’t flip to your marked pages, “however.. an erotica, really?” the finish of his sentence made you retract your thanks.

“it is not an erotica.”

“your marked page says different.”

“you have no business looking through my books–”

“--which i paid for with my allowance.” he always had won the back and forths of your banters. you were absolutely stuck in place and melting– if being frozen by both hydro and cryo slimes were difficult, you’d argue that this is much worse.

with a click of a tongue, ayato strides over to you; not failing to pick up your book and using it to raise your chin. your eyes narrowed, not in anger but in embarrassment, when you felt the paperback book brush under your chin and kept your head tilted to meet his gaze.

“my, my... and to think this is what keeps my dear wife entertained after several hours of restless public affairs. i wasn’t aware yae publishing house has ventured into such risky taboo romantic tropes but i suppose everyone has surprises, hm?” ayato held his gaze with pride– almost a resemblance to cockiness because each and every second of this situation has done nothing but amused him.

“i– i am an adult with needs,” you barely stutter out, fingertips lacing together in an attempt to soothe your nerves. ayato didn’t fail to notice your slightly trembling voice and his free hand quickly found its way to your cheek. he lets out another chuckle, one that is slightly softer this time as he rubbed it. “and you did not think to voice your needs to me? i am more than happy to help you even if it means abandoning my work,” he responds quickly.

the statement makes you much more flustered and retracts your face from his palm, eliciting a tut from him. even in a year of marriage, you never fail to shy away from him– something which he would shamelessly admit that he liked using to his own advantage.

“it seems i’ve stunned you.” “shut up.”

“although… do you not feel any embarrassment buying such novels in broad daylight?” he asked with a toothy grin that showed off his pearly whites. you shook your head. it was true though, you’d never be able to live anything down if you had an awkward exchange with a worker at the publishing house. which is why you’re relieved you let your court lady or even thoma to do such tasks for you.

“no..” you answered, this time with no hesitation but with the lie seeping through your teeth, “no, i do not.” ayato shrugged at your response and dropped the book on a desk nearby. quickly, he grasps your waist to pull you in closer. his head lowered next to yours to mutter into your ears– a predicament which, in all ways, makes your knees weak.

“i suppose you do not.. considering the fact you rely on your court lady or thoma to fulfil such tasks,” he mumbles. a small gasp leaves your lips at his knowledge towards this. “dearest, it’d be slacking of me to not know what goes around in my very own estate.” each tap of his fingers against your waist makes the heat crawl up your neck more.

ayato pulled his head back and a softer smile graced his lips when he looks at you. he leaves several pecks on your stunned face and retracts his lips to see your reaction. “i am not judging you, however.. do try not to spend all your allowance on such trivial things.”

that comment earned him a harsh smack on his chest.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin fic #genshin x reader #ayato #ayato x fem!reader #ayato x you #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato fluff

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yes-i-am-happyaspie · 6 months

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Hi! I love you! It’s finals season and I’m barely scraping by and suffering lots, so I could use a fanfic to live through! What about a mini fic where Peter is doing some homework in his room (compound/tower, or just Tony’s house but Morgan doesn’t exist) and he has a pretty bad fever. Tony notices he’s getting frustrated really easy and checks his temperature and then lots of cuddles?

Another mini-fic! This time staring a feverish, grumpy little rain cloud Peter and a very dad-like Mr. Stark. :) Very very very mild angst and some good old-fashioned fluff. Oh. And Peter gets a hug.

Finals Week Heat 980 words

Peter sat at his desk in Mr Stark’s workshop and grasped a fistful of his hair. It was only Wednesday, and he was already burnt out. Finals had been going strong all week, and he still had two more to go. His worst subjects. Spanish and world history. He released his hair in favor of rubbing his eyes and stared at his notes. As they blurred in and out of focus he slammed his fist down on the desk.

“Easy, Pete,” Mr. Stark called from across the room. “ What’s got you all worked up over there?”

“Nothing!” Peter snapped before he could stop himself. But he was so exhausted he ached and his head was starting to throb. It was making him unreasonably irritable. “I'm not worked up! I’m just tired.”

Mr. Stark arched a single brow. “It’s only eight o’clock.”

“Does it matter? I’ve been busy for days! I think I’m allowed to be tired.” Peter flourished a dismissive hand and directed his attention to his notes. “Just go back to your work and leave me alone.”

“Hey,” Mr. Stark warned. But for some reason, Peter didn’t take the hint, He visibly bristled and narrowed his eyes.

“What?” he aggressively shouted. “I know you’re in the middle of at least three projects and I have to study. Actually. You know what? I’ll just take this to my room. It’s whatever.” Immediately, he started haphazardly stuffing things into his bag, ready to flee the situation before it escalated further.

“Nuh-uh, no way, no how. Sit back down Kid.” Mr. Stark stood up, taking on an authoritative posture. “We need to talk about your attitude.”

Peter knew he should listen, and any other day he probably would. However, the tension in his body was wound so tight, he snapped instead. “I don’t want to sit down and don't want to talk to you. I just want to get this done.”

Mr. Stark's jaw clenched. “Sit. Down. Now.”

Knowing it was best to give in, Peter threw himself into his chair and crossed his arms tightly over his chest. Whether it was out of indignation or because an unexpected chill had consumed him, he wasn’t sure. Rather than contemplate it, he glared across the room.

“What are you studying for?”

“Finals. You know that,” Peter spat.

Mr. Stark’s face remained stoney as he regarded Peter with scrutiny. A few beats passed. He sighed and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You’ve been at it for hours with the flashcards, Kiddo. Why don’t you just call it a night?”

“Because I happen to like my 4.0 GPA, Mr. Stark!” The sarcasm was thick but the sentiment was genuine. He was at the top of his class and the pressure to remain in that slot was high. “If I don’t study, I don’t get to keep it.”

Mr. Stark's head tilted to the side. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I'm fine,” Peter grumbled. “Why?”

“You’re not usually this snippy with me,” Mr. Stark casually replied. He spanned the distance between them and ran his hand through Peter’s hair, down to his neck. The contact Made Peter shiver. “You’re burning up, Buddy,” Tony said, his voice significantly softer. “FRIDAY? Get me a tempt, will you?”

“Mr. Parker’s temperature is at one-hundred and two point three degrees.”

Mr. Stark nodded and gave Peter’s shoulder a squeeze.“Well, that settles it. You’re definitely done studying for tonight. The good news is, you’ll have a few extra days to review the material because you are definitely not going to school to-’”

“I have to go!” Peter growled. “I have finals to take!” He wished he didn’t. Staying home sounded idea.

“Nope. Zip it. The adult is talking.” Mr Stark, sent him a look, daring him to say anything else. Peter snapped his mouth shut. “You’re not going to school with a fever of a hundred and two. Not happening. You can make up the test.”

Peter slumped in his seat. “I want to be done with them,” he mumbled.

“And I want you to feel better,” Tony replied without missing a beat. His fingers went back to Peter’s hair. “You’re clearly miserable, Buddy,”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, his eyes beginning to water. He gathered a tremulous breath and closed his eyes. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t feel good.”

“Okay, Kiddo. You’re going to be okay.” Mr. Stark wiped a stray tear from Peter’s cheek and hauled him into a firm hug. “Let’s get upstairs, hmm?”

Inside the elevator, Peter leaned into Mr. Stark. “Sorry, I yelled at you.”

“I’d say it’s okay, but I definitely don’t want you biting my head off like that,” Mr. Stark said. He paused to swipe the bangs off of Peter’s forehead. Probably gauging the fever again, in the process. “It would be much easier if you just told me when you were sick.”

Peter sighed, unsure of how to explain how difficult it was to satisfy literally everyone’s expectations. “I didn’t want to-” he began, but Mr. Stark cut him off quickly.

“Another time, Bud. We’ll talk about it another time.” They had arrived at the penthouse. Mr. Stark stepped inside first and gestured down the hall. “For now, go get in your pajamas and meet me on the couch. I’ll fetch you some meds, and we’ll watch a movie until you conk out on me.”

Peter huffed a small laugh, knowing that’s exactly what would happen. He’d arrive at the couch wearing his comfiest pajamas, soft blanket in hand. Mr. Stark would give him some pills and sit in the corner of the furniture. He’d allow Peter to burrow into his side and, together, they would pick a movie. Probably something science fiction. It didn’t really matter. Mr. Stark was right. He’d be warm and comfortable and sound asleep before they made it a quarter of the way in.

Super happy to see you again @yescaptainmarvel123875 I feel like it's been a while! Hope you are doing well and enjoy this fic!!

#happyaspie mini fic #<check out that tag #fic under 1k #tumblr mini fic #sick peter parker #fever #grumpiness #very very very mild angst #peter parker #tony stark #spider-man #iron man #irondad and spiderson #marvel #mcu #irondad #irondad fic

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physalian · 4 months

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POVS and Past vs Present Tense (Or, the Pros and Cons of Limiting your Narrator)

This blog got over 300 notes in a single day, I'm almost at 1000! Thank you to everyone who likes, reblogs, and subscribes, you all keep me motivated in these dark times.

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Today we’re looking at the pros and cons of the different points of view through which you can tell your story, but full disclosure, sometimes it all comes down to how you as the author feel most comfortable writing, regardless of the story you are telling.

So this is less *what you should do* and more *what you might want to think about but don’t have to do*.

Narrating POVs come in these flavors:

First Person (FPOV)

Second Person (SPOV)

Third Person Limited (TPL)

Third Person Omniscient (TPO)

What you decide for your story doesn’t really matter, only that whatever you pick, you *must* stick with (unless you’re James Patterson who doesn’t give a damn). The same applies with whether or not you decide to write in past or present tense, so I’ll be covering both topics in this post.

You can choose whatever you want, but the type of story you write can benefit from different POVS. An intimate romance with few characters? FPOV, possibly with alternating narrators. An epic fantasy with an ensemble cast that spans the globe? You’d miss out on so much of the story trapped with one narrator.

First-Person POV

I… hate writing first person POV. I don’t hate that it exists and I love reading it, I just can’t write any of my characters in FPOV, it’s too weird. To anyone struggling to give their characters strong and distinct personalities, stepping away from the “I/me” pronouns may help you.

With that said! FPOV is by no means any lesser than any other POV. FPOV is, obviously, when your narrator narrates with terms like “I, me, we, us.” You are reading in their head, their train of thought, their internal monologue.

Pros: This about as intimate a look inside the story as you can get, you are zero degrees removed from the action. The biggest benefit is how well the audience comes to understand the narrating character as all your time is spent with them exclusively, unless the story head-hops. Every scene is colored by the lenses of the narrator’s biases and the knowledge they have of the story.

Cons: Unless you head-hop, you risk losing out on much of the rest of the story. Other characters can only be viewed through the biases of the narrator and any story happening away from the narrator is unseen, because they’re not there to witness it.

FPOV gives you the most flexibility in coloring your text with personality, think Holden Caufield from Catcher in the Rye. Every page bleeds with Holden’s thoughts and musings on his world.

However, FPOV, versus TPL, traps you within the senses of the narrator. You can’t get away with lines like “he didn’t notice XYZ happening in the background” or “he might have missed this subtle tell” because there’s zero room for ambiguity unless your tone allows for some comedic freedom.

You *can* say things like “Later, I would reflect back on X” or “Had I been paying attention, I might’ve seen Y” but those lines are almost always followed up with “But I didn’t in the moment and now I’m screwed regardless.”

If you find yourself stuck with a scene of a bunch of characters of all the same gender and you have to balance your paragraphs with names versus pronouns, FPOV does, at least, remove one of them for you with “I”.

Beyond simply using “I/me” pronouns, you can go the route of Anthem. Ayn Rand’s Anthem is written in first person, but with plural pronouns and when I read it in middle school, I spent the entire novel thinking all the different “theys” and “we’s” were entire groups of people acting and not the a singular being because it was middle school and pronouns weren’t a topic of discussion.

There was a scene where “we” (gender neutral singular protagonist) sees “them” (gender neutral love interest) doing… yoga or something beyond a fence, and in my head I was picturing like, ten dudes watching ten ladies all do synchronized yoga. It was funky.

Second-Person

This one almost doesn’t count because it’s so rare. Second person is reserved, I think, for three situations: Romance/erotica, self-help books, and horror/thriller works.

SPOV uses terms like “you think, you see, you feel, you do X”. It’s self-indulgent and I’ve never actually read a fictional work written in it because it’s too weird. SPOV is as intimate as you can get, because *you* are the protagonist.

I scroll right past all the "character/reader" fanfics but they have their audience, and I've never picked up an actual published romance novel written in SPOV, but I'm sure they exist for their own wish-fulfilment purposes.

SPOV in horror deserves more content and attention. The most iconic example I can think of is the storyline through Michael Jackson’s “Thriller”. In it, the narrator tells the tale of you, intrepid hero, who find yourself in the middle of the Thriller, and details your demise at the claws and teeth of disco zombies.

Second-person fiction relies on what your protagonist does more than who they are, as too-strong of a personality limits the reader’s ability to get in the headspace of their fictional VR-goggles. In the “Thriller” example, the story tells entirely of your physiological reactions (you’re paralyzed with fear, unable to scream, etc), not your desires and emotions, beyond terror.

Third-Person Limited

*cracks knuckles* My Favorite! TPL is very much like FPOV, except instead of using “I think” you’d use “He/she/they/it thinks”. TPL is still contained within the box of following a singular narrator at any given time, but the audience isn’t experiencing the novel through the eyes of the narrator, they’re watching it through the imaginary cameraman following them. Depending on how much personality you write your narration with, TPL can be nigh indistinguishable from FPOV.

If your narrator experiences pain, or gets knocked out in a car crash or a fistfight, the narration is still limited by their consciousness and awareness. The scene doesn’t continue on after the narrator passes out.

Also, as a writer, it’s a *lot* easier to write scenes your audience demands (like romance) if you’re aro/ace and/or too squicked out trying to write it in first person but still wanting to deliver. Same goes for violence/ horror/ combat, anything with a lot of emotion and drama that you can’t bring yourself to write as “I feel such and such so much right now” can be intimidating. Then it’s not happening to you, it’s happening to those poor schmucks unlucky enough to be characters in your book, and then it’s much more fun.

TPL and FPOV both favor the internal monologue, the only difference is the pronouns through which the narration is given. TPL also tends to distinguish direct thoughts by the narrator within the style of the text. This means putting the thought in italics most of the time, or adding in a “she thought” like a dialogue tag.

Third-Person Omniscient

If third-person limited was being the cameraman, third-person omniscient is being the bird watching from above, or God. TPO is a “third” narrator who tends to not be an active character within the story, just “the narrator” watching every other character go through life.

In some cases, you could make the omniscient narrator also in first person as a non-character, but they would have to be some higher power, or make your story a fourth-wall-breaking meta commentary, a story within a story told by an unrelated storyteller.

TPO suffers from lacking intimacy. You’re two degrees removed from the thoughts and feelings of the character and the story is colored with the personality of the narrator, not any one character you’re following (if there is at all a personality to the narrator).

Children’s books tend to be TPO because they’re not that deep. When I say children’s books I mean like Rainbow Fish, or the Very Hungry Caterpillar, not children’s chapter books.

But on the other hand, many classics are written in TPO. I believe the A Series of Unfortunate Events books are written in TPO with a *very* colorful omniscient narrator. The Chronicles of Narnia are also, I think, written in TPO with the absence of a distinct narrating personality, it’s simply the voice through which the story unfolds (it’s been a while since I’ve read either and can’t recall).

TPO tends to lend itself toward fantasy and fairytales because a colorful narrator just fits the tone and the unnatural reality of your world. The narrator of A Series of Unfortunate Events would be very out of place in a book like The Great Gatsby because it would only distract from the story, instead of enhance it.

Head-Hopping and Multiple POV

Head hopping should only be used when you do it on purpose in an established FPOV or TPL work. If you change perspectives mid-narration without any indication that you’re doing it on purpose, that’s just sloppy writing and you’ll confuse the heck out of your readers.

The term “head hopping” tends to be used when writers do it poorly, versus simply “multiple narrators”. This works best with an ensemble cast, or when the author doesn’t want to limit the breadth of their story to only the protagonist’s perspective.

The narration can shift between any number of characters, but I wouldn’t go higher than five or six with rare exception because it’s too many characters to follow. You can follow the protagonist and a couple of their friends, the protagonist and the villain, the different members of team protagonist – the list goes on.

It’s entirely up to you how you want to physically structure your POV shifts. Some authors jump between multiple narrators within a chapter (myself included), some give entire chapters to one narrator at a time, or a chunk of chapters in a row. Sometimes the narrating POV is signaled with a giant banner for their name or the scene opens with the narrator’s name within the first few sentences to let you know who you’re following.

POV shifts without the big banner works best when your narrators have very distinct personalities coloring their narration, see this post about humanizing your characters and giving them voice.

How each character speaks, how they see their world, the idioms and metaphors they use in their internal monologue, the cadence in how they tell the story, the syntax -- all of these help justify your choice to shift POVs beyond the flexibility of telling more story. You know you’ve succeeded when you can write an entire page in the new POV without naming your narrator and your audience still knows who it is.

Head-hopping in bad form can be an easy mistake to make, and easiest to make in third-person limited, because you’re already one degree removed. Unless you are writing from a telepath’s perspective, any time you begin writing the thoughts and feelings of a non-narrating character in TPL, you are head-hopping.

If Jane is narrating an argument with Mark, and we cut aside to suddenly start detailing Mark’s feelings on the matter, we have broken the POV. Jane cannot know exactly what Mark is feeling, she’s not Mark. Instead, Jane can look at him and assume what he’s feeling based on his expressions and extrapolate on what he might be thinking.

In which case her thoughts on the matter would be tagged with “Mark seemed to think X,” or “Mark looked hurt”. Doing it incorrectly looks like “Mark thought X” or “Mark was hurt”.

You can get away with “Character was hurt” with any of the following tacked on:

“...they thought/presumed/assumed/suspected/guessed”

“... that much obvious”

“... they could tell”

So long as the tag reflects how the narrator interprets the scene.

Multiple narrators inevitably lend themselves to a longer story and thicker book and a perfect example is the Percy Jackon series and its follow-up, Heroes of Olympus.

Percy Jackson is a rather unique case of shifting POVS. The first five books of the series are entirely FPOV from his perspective. We follow Percy and only Percy the entire time.

The second series hops between TPL perspectives, with the benefit of exploring other characters…. and the massive disappointment of your protagonist for five whole books being completely omitted as a narrator from his final run (but that’s for another day).

The books of the second series are doorstoppers because there’s so much more plot with multiple arcs now being written for each one. HOO is a “banner style” head-hopper, giving chunks of chapters to a narrating character at any given time and following only three to four narrators for a given book.

There was a book our teacher read in elementary school, blandly titled School with a peace sign and a bus on the cover and I have no way to google it because of its stupidly generic title. In it, the entire short story has at least ten narrators and it worked because there weren’t ten different story arcs, it was all the same story just told through ten different perspectives. It was less an “ensemble cast of rich and fulfilling heroes” and more “ten children each argue why they remember the incident the best”.

Twilight hops in later books, with entire swaths of Breaking Dawn divvied up between the three main characters. The Red Queen series and Throne of Glass also hop and it seems, to me at least, that, regardless of genre, multiple narrators are much more common in recent publications.

Maximum Ride is a funky rule-breaker. For reasons unknown, the author decided to write in FPOV for the protagonist, then jump perspectives to TPL for the other characters. It’s incredibly distracting. Why not just write the entire story in shifting FPOV? Or entirely in TPL?

There is plenty of merit to *not* rotating narrators. I like doing it because I like not being limited to only following one character through the entire story. However, creativity thrives in a box and not knowing what's happening outside that box can be equally entertaining. Following one character also forces the plot to center on that character (though doesn't always give you a protagonist with agency). It leaves plenty of holes for the audience to fill in missing information as well when side characters are off doing whatever and the narrator isn't there to witness it.

Present vs Past Tense

Tense, like head-hopping, is easy to mess up if you’re not careful, and both have their pros and cons.

Books written in present tense have the benefit of being “present”. You follow the action as it unfolds, uncovering mysteries as the characters do with the added oomph of it simply being written as it happens.

Hunger Games is written in the present and the added “oomph” is that this is a hellish dystopian battle royale and it being “present” subconsciously clues the reader in on the possibility that Katniss might not survive to tell the story back to us, she can die at any moment.

Books written in past tense have the option to get cheeky, since the narrator survived the story long enough to go back and write it down for you. Some books might begin with a retrospective in the opening lines or the prologue by the narrator warning the reader about the story ahead or insisting they were an idiot for letting things play out the way they did.

Most stories written in past tense don’t think twice about it. Past tense is simply comfortable for the author to write in and it by no means spares their heroes from dying simply because of the narration having to exist.

If you tend to write in one or the other and you switch it up for a different story, you, my friend, have quite the uphill battle. You might find yourself having to comb back through entire chapters worth of content fixing your verbs because you just didn’t notice the accidental shift.

Future tense does exist, but it tends to go with stories written in second person and I’ve never read a fictitious work with it, only in bits and pieces in self help books and, again, that doesn’t really count.

—

TL;DR: How you narrate your work and in what tense it’s written is generally divorced from the genre and story you’re writing and has no impact on how the story reads. Any book with an ensemble cast benefits from multiple POVS and books in the fantasy/ supernatural/ fairtyale genre can benefit from an omniscient narrator, but it’s hardly required. First person POV gives the broadest opportunity to develop one singular character as intimately as possible, at the cost of everyone else. Third person POV removes the reader directly from the action, but is hardly inferior and can be nearly identical to FPOV save for the difference in pronouns used.

Regardless, inexperienced authors beware, head-hopping and tense-changing are easy mistakes to make. Stay vigilant and keep practicing and anything is fixable.

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #pov #first person pov #third person #narration #long post

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elliewiltarwyn · 3 months

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A Specialized Problem (OC Swap Gift for @mythandral)

for the FFXIV OC Swap discord's current swap, my giftee is the incomparable @mythandral! Coming in a little under the wire here cause the deadline is on Sunday ghasldkfjkasd BUT I'm really glad I finally sat myself down and devoted the energy to exploring Myth's whole deal because it's all so cool and fascinating and he's a wonderful character, and I hope this gift lives up to those standards!!

I present a 2,321-word fluffy MythXStephanivien fic illustrated with gposes from Steph's POV centered around Myth. I offered either gposes or fic writing, and then hubristically decided I could do both. >.> also there was technically a theme for the swap but thankfully they were optional because I completely forgot sdghalshgf however I suppose you could say this is adjacent to the Valentione's/Love option?? it is goddamn cotton-candy levels of fluff at least lol

ANYWAY WITHOUT FURTHER ADO hope you all and Myth in particular enjoy!!

It was well after the end of the workday, with the gray Coerthan clouds beginning to tint orange and the sun beginning to aim its reach through the still-open doors of the manufactory, and Myth had yet to move an ilm from his spot.

This in and of itself wasn’t terribly surprising; Stephanivien was used to his husband’s tendency to focus on his projects to the exclusion of most else. It was a method of increasing his productivity and a process of healing both for him, allowing him to turn his anxieties into progress on any number of little projects that had fallen by the wayside in the manufactory’s assembly line, but ones that would be of immense benefit to unfortunate folk from the slowly-ascending peasants of the Brume to the steadily-recovering citizens of Garlemald. Even if it were for no benefit but his own, Stephanivien would never begrudge him these times to himself; Fury knows he could use some of those moments, butting heads with his lord father and Tedalgrinche and other such doubters all day as he does. Albeit less so these days.

No, Stephanivien’s concern was more prosaic: typically, Myth’s personal space in these times was active and bright, delighting in the sounds of his tools tinkering with his project, examining it from every angle and frequently ducking his head and craning his neck into unusual positions to do so, not to mention how he would gladly explicate upon his process to any who asked, especially if they were new hires of the manufactory who were like to stand there in awe of the Warrior of Light more than actually listen to a word he was saying. Quite frankly, Myth was a delight when he was in these moods.

Today, it had been anything but: Mythandral Raas, beloved senior engineer of Skysteel Manufactory, husband of its proprietor, and Warrior of Light, had spent near the full afternoon gazing blankly at the device in pieces before him on the table — his own aetherometer. His elbows had rested on the table for what seemed to be several bells, his hands clasped across the bridge of his nose as his burnished golden eyes, the color of the sun hiding behind the overcast sky, traced the span of gears, nuts, bolts and wires sprawled across his workspace. Most disturbingly, he had paid no heed to any who tried to draw his attention — not that anyone pressed particularly far, fearful as they were of disturbing such a notable figure of renown, no matter how open-minded and approachable Myth presented himself.

‘Twas quite strange for Myth, but Stephanivien had some ideas percolating in his overactive mind — both as to the cause and as to possible solutions.

And so as the day wound down and countless employees and guild trainees trickled out the door, each bidding both proprietor and Warrior of Light good night, Stephanivien pretended to busy himself with a pile of messy letters that a Haillenarte manservant had delivered earlier that day, flipping and reading through the same three or four until activity in the manufactory died down, until all that could be heard was the sound of steam rushing through pipes and small hisses of exhaust — the murmurs, chatter, and laughter of his employees finally absent. Even now, Myth continued to regard his aetherometer sternly, attempting to solve a puzzle that, Stephanivien admitted, could stump even himself.

Once he had judged it to be likely they truly were the last in the manufactory, Stephanivien raised his voice slightly to note, “Stare any harder, my dear, and you’re like to burn a hole straight through the thing.”

Finally, for the first time in several hours, Myth’s head rose from its downturned angle. Smirking to himself, Stephanivien balled up the letters in his hand, tossed them over his shoulder into the wastebasket, and slipped out from behind the desk to make for his partner’s side. As his boots clacked across the wooden floor, Myth’s head slowly craned around to gaze up at him over his shoulder, blinking fairly irregularly and furrowing his brow as if he had just awoken from deep slumber. “Of course, if doing so would solve your seemingly impenetrable dilemma, then I wholeheartedly encourage it by all means.” Stephanivien winked. “As I always encourage exploring such unorthodox methods.”

“Unfortunately, this is a matter that requires a delicate approach,” Myth demurred as the corner of his lips tugged upwards slightly. “I won’t deny I’ve been quite tempted to incinerate the blasted thing a number of times, though.”

“’Twould certainly eradicate the problem in one sense.” Now by his side, Stephanivien reached over and laid a gentle hand on his partner’s shoulder while extending the other around in front; Myth took the hint and reached up to clasp it, each machinist curling their fingers around each other’s thick padded gloves. “Shall I take a look? Fresh perspectives oft bear unforeseen solutions, as you well know.”

Myth sighed. “You’re welcome to, I suppose, but I fear this is a particularly specialized problem. It involves…well.” He chuckled, sat up a little, and wryly rapped his knuckles against his own chest; Stephanivien knew very well the “problem” laying beneath Myth’s perfectly-tailored, shockingly-clean-for-a-Skysteel-engineer shirt. “My stint with the Light is largely resolved, but I am still particularly susceptible to fluctuations in my aether, particularly when I’m doing something aether-intensive; when I accrue a surfeit, the probability that the aetherometer will jam rises — the lightning-aspected aether it is supposed to draw becomes imbalanced toward the umbral.” With his free hand, he reached for a small wrench that laid on the table next to the meter, flipped it into his fingers with all the dexterity of a Lominsan rogue with their knives, and drummed it along the length of an internal piece of the meter’s machinery. “I am trying to figure out how to filter Light aether and restore the lightning’s astral balance, in essence.”

Stephanivien frowned. “That is quite the conundrum — after all, if it were possible before…”

“…I would likely have had a much easier time in the First, yes,” Myth mused with a grim chuckle.

“That aether fluctuations could cause errors with the extraction is a possibility I ought to have considered. It pains me to know my oversight has been causing you grief.”

“Come now, there’s no way you could have possibly known ‘twould be an issue when you invented this,” Myth immediately interjected, shaking his head up at his husband with a mischievous grin. “Frankly, had you, it would have raised serious questions about your choice of occupation. You could make a killing with that sort of precognition.”

Stephanivien submitted to a chuckle himself as he squeezed his husband’s hand and shoulder both. “You say that, and yet I am not unaware of the skeptical glares everyone still gives my prospectometer.” Myth stifled a laugh with his other hand, a sound Stephanivien had not heard all day and had sorely missed. “At any rate, mayhap we should step away from the problem for a time? Even your genius mind cannot carry on forever without rest and recuperation.” That being said, Stephanivien’s insides churned, as he knew quite well why Myth had been focusing so intently on solving this particular puzzle. From the tales he had heard, from what he had seen cross his husband’s torso, the Light had done quite a number on him, to put it far too lightly…

Thankfully, Myth’s response to the proposition was to sigh, lean his head against Stephanivien’s hand, and murmur, “Perhaps you have a point.” He groaned and stretched his other arm and both legs outward, rotating his wrist and feet as he stretched his neck to one side, then the other. There was a grimace on his face when he muttered, “I definitely should not have sat here all day. Have you aught in mind for an alternate activity?”

“‘Activity’ should not be a factor in the equation, my dear…” Stephanivien trailed off as his gaze tracked towards the chronometer sitting on the manufactory’s front desk. The specific time that it was currently displaying suddenly ignited the spark of an idea in his mind, and he grinned. “Though I do believe I’ve thought of something. Here — follow me.”

Myth’s brow furrowed in confusion, but he allowed Stephanivien to pull him to his feet and start to make for the stairs hand-in-hand. Stephanivien’s heart beat faster and faster in his breast as they climbed those stairs to the manufactory’s upper story, crossing the landing until they reached one of the doors on the far side with a ‘No Entry’ placard hanging off the handles; Stephanivien carelessly yanked it off and pulled Myth through, crossing into a poorly-lit corridor.

“Hm.” Even in the darkness, Stephanivien was well aware of the arched eyebrow upon his husband’s face. “I can’t say I’ve ever been down this way.”

“You did not think the ‘No Entry’ was a physical barrier, surely?”

“You never know.”

Stephanivien laughed gaily as they began to climb another set of stairs. After all his worrying, all Myth’s trials, he could not well describe the extent to which he was walking on clouds hearing his partner’s sense of humor return to prominence.

There wasn’t much further banter as the two ascended the stairs to an extent much further than Stephanivien was sure Myth expected, distracted as they were with the effort and the numbered floors counting off in Stephanivien’s mind. Once they reached the fifth landing, he diverted off the steps onto it and led Myth down another few dark corridors, eventually reaching one sitting unremarkedly at the far end.

“You may want to cover your eyes for a moment,” Stephanivien warned with a cheeky grin; Myth looked confused still, but obliged, lowering his goggles and shading them with his hand. Holding his breath in anticipation, Stephanivien yanked the door open and pulled Myth through.

The moment the sun fell across Myth’s face, it rose in shock, his lips slightly parted as it literally dawned on him what was happening. “Wait, but…”

Stephanivien couldn’t help a satisfied smirk as he gently coaxed his partner forward, stepping onto a surprisingly wide stone landing and making for its edge. “Ishgard has a reputation for dreariness that is not wholly unearned,” he said matter-of-factly, “but there are certain places that are adept at reminding me ‘twas not always a cold and biting clime.”

“Right here at the manufactory?” Myth replied in awe; having apparently gotten used to it now, he pushes his goggles back up onto his forehead and lowers his hand, his golden eyes sweeping back and forth, taking in the vista before them.

“‘Tis not particularly known, and I am ill-inclined to reveal it to most. But of course, I will make certain exceptions.” Stephanivien beams at Myth as they reach the edge and draw to a standstill, relishing the way the widening of his partner’s eyes gave him premium access to the view of their golden pupils, now soaking in not just the scenic view of the ridges of Abalathia’s Spine but the way the sun perfectly sat at the apex of one of the gaps between the Pillars for which the district was so named.

A hesitance struck Stephanivien at that moment, the potential pitfalls of his devious plan now catching up with his overactive mind. After all, if Light was the source of such woe for him… But he remained resolute as he gestured at the vista, lingering in particular on the rays of the sun, so strong with such defined shapes that he swore he could reach out and pluck them from the frigid air. “The sun travels over Coerthas as normal, of course — but it never nestles into what I would declare its proper spot aside from this particular time of day, in this particular season.”

He exhaled a visible puff of air and put his hand on his hip, the other now tightly beginning to curl into Myth’s. “From this spot,” he began quietly, “I can remember easier that we are not so isolated here in Ishgard — that the warm touch of the sun can reach even us.” His gaze flicked up to Myth’s eyes again, meeting them as Myth turned to stare at him. “Both that we need not suffer our trials alone… and that ‘tis still possible to partake of that which is comforting about the light.”

Myth’s other hand, on apparent instinct, rose up and placed itself directly upon his chest, over the precise centerpoint where Stephanivien knew the scars laid. “Steph,” he breathed, “you…”

Stephanivien chewed his lip anxiously, the nerves beginning to rise to a fever pitch as he suddenly found himself unable to read his husband’s expression. “I apologize profusely if I’ve given any offense,” he murmurs, averting his gaze, “I merely thought—”

A leather glove wraps around his hip and pulls him in to share a deep kiss with Myth, one which he enthusiastically reciprocates, reaching up to cup his partner’s cheek and move in for a more comfortable position, a warm position, here in the arms of Mythandral Raas.

“You are,” Myth breathed between kisses, “as always, a genius, and have the answer to everything.” They pulled apart slightly, just enough to rest their foreheads against each other; Stephanivien stifled a chuckle as their goggles clacked awkwardly against each other. “Thank you, my love.”

Stephanivien grinned. “I’m overjoyed to have helped.” They kissed again, and Stephanivien began to tangle his fingers in the lengths of Myth’s luxurious hair. “If you like,” he whispered somewhat mischievously, “I can steal down briefly for some of the ale stores? I’ve found it goes quite well with the view.”

“Oh, on any other day, I would gladly,” Myth replied, pulling back and grinning at his husband. “But tonight, I think I would keep my mind clear. I’ve just had a flash of inspiration about my problem, after all.”

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv screenshots #ffxiv gpose #my fanfiction #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxiv swap #elezen #stephanivien de haillenarte #stephanivien x wol #other's ocs: Mythandral Raas #thank you sm for trusting me with Myth he's fantastic!!#also this is actually the first time i've ever posed elezen!!#and for some reason i found their heights so much more difficult to wrangle than femroes?? i dont get it??#also also i apologize if any or all of this doesn't line up with Official Myth Lore™️but i tried my best! 🙂

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that-ari-blogger · 4 months

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A World Of Their Own

The Owl House thrives on archetypal storytelling. Essentially, it makes a beeline for the closest trope and twists it into a new direction. It's a story about how expectations and reality clash.

Up until now, the series has given a take on the concepts of prom, quests, magic schools, amongst others, and has been steadily working its way through the enemies to lovers trope.

And so, along comes Wing It Like Witches to tackle the Sport Story genre, and throw some serious shade on certain other stories while it is at it.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD (The Owl House, Harry Potter 1-6)

When writing a satire, it is broadly useful to have an understanding of the thing you wish to satirise. In the case of a piece of media, this includes understanding the writer, text, and audience. Specifically what parts of the text matter, what the text is trying to say, and exactly where it succeeds and falls short.

The episode after this serves as a turning point in the series, the moment when the stakes escalate from school drama to world threatening, and so Wing It Like Witches serves as a last hurrah for the small things, and the moral of the episode is "focus on the elements of life that matter."

What better way to emphasise that is with sport?

Now, I don't think it will come as a shock to many people that sport isn't real life. As in, it's artificial by nature, it's fair. The winner of WWI wasn't the team that scored the most home runs.

The significance of this is that sport usually has a point system, allowing certain areas to have a specific, value that doesn't exist anywhere else in the world. You can win a story based on flags, for example.

In a fictional world, you can make up the sport, and so you can place your points on anything that you want. You can artificially inflate the significance of specific items.

The Owl House calls attention to this in a moment that I think comes as close to breaking the fourth wall as it ever gets.

"While you were celebrating your victory, I caught [the Rusty Smidge]. It means we automatically win. All magic sports are like this." "That just invalidates all our efforts! If catching that thing is so important, why do anything else? There's no reason to watch any of the other players! That's such a stupid rule!"

I think this is a reference to something, my reference senses are tingling. But I just can't work it out. It must be too subtle or something.

In all seriousness, this is actually a really interesting discussion about how stories as a whole work.

There is a pervading idea in a substantial amount of storytelling of protagonist significance. The idea that the protagonist enters a wide spanning conflict and single handedly ends it, rendering the rest of the cast onlookers and cannon fodder.

The Rusty Smidge is a neat microcosm of this idea. What is the point of the rest of the game when one person can win it? But there is a small change to the rules that I think is important.

You see, in Quidditch, for those who haven't heard of it, there is the role of the "seeker", a player who's job it is to find the golden snitch. The game ends when the orb is caught, and the team that catches it is awarded 150 points.

The two main differences are this: The snitch doesn't automatically win the game, and the only player who can catch it is the seeker.

So, what does this mean? Firstly, it means that the player who can catch the snitch is automatically the most important player on the field, so it means that the audience knows who to follow. It is an artificial significance put on a specific, chosen, one character. It specifically tells all the other characters that they don't matter.

However, the seeker doesn't win the game, they just score a collection of points. So that must be fair, right?

I would argue that this distinction is kind of irrelevant. There is exactly one instance in the series when a team who doesn't catch the snitch wins the game, and they are professionals. In a school game, there is no way that a team would be 16 goals ahead of the other.

The points attributed to the snitch gives the veneer of significance to the other players on the field, but when it is brought into question, it is extremely unlikely that they will have an effect on the story.

So, The Owl House satirises this in two ways. It directly calls out the superficiality of the game by taking away the point system, but it also takes away the chosen one aspect. Anyone in this game can win it, the rest of the story is secondary.

I would argue that there are two ideas presented in this story. The first through the game and the second through everything else. The rules of the game suggest that you should stop focusing on the things that don't matter (points) and look at the big picture, while the story suggests that you should stop focusing on the things that don't matter (Bosha) and look at what makes you happy.

The exchange above gets a ton of attention because it is funny, but for my money, the line immediately after it has more significance:

"Well, we beat them and proved our social dominance. All is right in the hierarchy."

The sport didn't matter at all. It was all for another game, with artificial stakes and no real point or prize. Bosha is an incredibly shallow person who has no better use for her time than following around those she doesn't like.

But the story does matter, because of what the Hex Squad earns at the end. They earn the respect of Skara, Amelia, and Cat, Bosha's teammates. They play well and they have fun and, end result be damned, they did their best. That's kinda what sport is about.

Now, a quick bit of credit needs to be given to the side stories of this episode, because they are great. First up is the blossoming romance between Luz and Amity that nobody bats an eyelid at. Amity waltzes up to Willow and gives the single most chaotic monologue in the entire series, and Willow's reaction is essentially "this is normal", which is hilarios.

I particularly like this shot, and the exchange that accompanies it:

"You just destroyed your social life." "Nah, I think I made it better"

Look how small Bosha is here. She's insignificant in the big scheme of things. Amity has finally realised that status doesn't matter, and so the emblem of that status, Bosha, is framed with less power in the scene than the kid in the "I have the power of G-d and anime on my side" vine (Google it).

But the thing with Eda is Lilith's last resort. She has been trying to bring Eda into the Emperor's Coven peacefully up until now. You could say she is playing by the rules. But she still loses, because the rules are against her. She is forced to resort to violence.

Final Thoughts

I'm going to level with you, I do not get the sport story genre at all. I don't understand it's appeal, I don't find it compelling, it just isn't for me.

Now, that isn't to say this genre isn't important, and doesn't have its place in media as a whole. Rocky, A League of Their Own, and Bend It Like Beckham make that point for me exactly. I am simply not the target audience of this genre.

All this is to say that I struggled to analyse this episode from the framework it was presenting me. I couldn't comment on how well the training montage worked, or what the speeches were reminiscent of, so I wrote what I knew.

Next week, I am covering Agony Of A Witch, the point at which the tone of the series shifts dramatically and permanently. So, stick around if that interests you.

Previous - Next

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fragaria-imagines · 7 months

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I saw that you allow suggestive fics 🤭🤭

Can we please have one with Tuxam, like reader is teasing him while he's on his break from his service with Tuxedo Sam (if he does take breaks that is) (͡⁠°⁠‿⁠ ͡⁠°⁠) hehehehhe, thank you <3

Ahh thank you!! This is my first suggestive fic so I’m sorry if it doesn’t turn out well (,,>﹏<,,)!!

You consider yourself a very patient person, maybe even too patient, hell some might even call you a saint! When plans or dates are abruptly canceled at the last minute because your boyfriend has to work, you are more than understanding. Or when your boyfriend falls off the face or the earth due to work and doesn’t check in or call you, you once again, completely understand. Or when your boyfriend completely forgets to pick you up, —after promising you beforehand that he would—, because something at work came up, you still once again, understood.

But there comes a time in someone’s life, that being too patient and being too understanding, would one day run its course, and for you, that day is today. And while you knew realistically, that Tuxam wasn’t blowing you off on purpose, and that he really did have work to attend to, but for god’s sake, would it kill him to take a break from his service, every once in a while!

And as you made your way to the Strawberry Kingdom, bulldozing your way into the main entrance, scanning the room for Tuxam, you made sure to give him exactly that.

“Y/N, is that you? I wasn’t expecting you to come here today, is everything okay?” Tuxam asked in surprise, his eyebrows furrowed in faint concern, noticing how on edge you looked. You didn’t make it a habit to show up at his work unannounced or without telling him beforehand, so it was quite a shock and a bit worrisome to him.

Seeing the concerned expression on his face, did ease your annoyance and impatience from earlier, and you wondered if you were too hasty in your decision of confronting him head on.

However, as you stared at him a bit longer, those concerns quickly came to an end, as you took a really good look at him, a new set of emotions and urges took over you.

“Did he always look good in those tight leggings?” You thought to yourself, now no longer looking at his face, and instead, was blatantly checking him out.

You couldn’t help it, after all, when was the last time you two had some fun between the two of you? When was the last time he touched you? When was the last time you touched him? It seemed like your frustration with him earlier, didn’t seem to be stimming from just anger alone…

“Y-y/n…! Is there something you want?” Tuxam asked sheepishly, noticing how your attention shifted to his lower half.

You looked back at the knight in front you, who was now fully red in the face, barely able to make eye contact with you. And for a second, a slightly mischievous part of you wondered if he was just as red down there as his face was.

“Are you on your break?” You bluntly asked, avoiding his question, acting as if you weren’t blatantly checking him out and staring right at his bulge.

Subtly was never your thing, and while originally you were just planning to chew him out a new one for neglecting you so much. As you indulged further into your not so innocent thoughts, and noticed how just attractive he was in those tight leggings, a new idea popped into your head, an idea that would really show him just how needy you were.

“W-what? No, I’m not, I’m meeting with Hangyon right now actually, we’re supposed to be tallying up the fish population in the northern side of the blue bouquet” Tuxam answered, a bit caught off guard at how suddenly your mood seemingly changed from possibly agitated to gazing at him lustfully to acting nonchalant, in a span of three minutes.

“You look a bit tense, are you alright? Work hasn’t been too rough has it?” You asked softly, noticing the creases in his forehead deepening as he spoke.

While you knew Hangyon could care less about counting the fish population, and you were pretty certain that Tuxedo Sam did not ask Tuxam to do this, you knew that this was just how Tuxam is. How he always go above and beyond for the people he cares about, how he always so ambitious and driven when it came to fulfilling his knightly duties, it was one of the many reasons why you love him, and you hated to see him in so much stress, regardless if he did this to himself or not.

“Would you like me to give you a massage for your neck? It can help relieve the stress” You offered, before he could reply to your question.

Tuxam pondered at your suggestion, debating on whether he should take you up on your offer or not. On one hand, he had a lot of work to get to, but on the other hand, his neck has been killing him…

“I don’t know Y/N, I still have a lot of work to do and I don’t want to trouble you-“

“Oh come on! It’s no trouble at all, I’ll promise it’ll be quick, and you won’t even feel the pain in your neck, once I’m finished!” You promised hastily, knowing if you don’t act on it soon, you’ll lose your window of chance, the fact that he hasn’t bolted out the room already, is both of a shock and a pleasant surprise to you.

Before you could let him respond, you pushed him to the nearest chair, you placed your hands on him, starting to carefully massage his shoulders.

You felt him slowly starting to relax underneath you, a sigh of pleasure escaped his lips, when you started to apply more pressure. It was quiet, but you were certain that you heard it, a rush of excitement filled your body, as you wondered what other noises could you get him to make.

Your hands quickly traveled down his spine, carefully touching and groping every curve there is, under the guise of a “massage”. You pressed your chest on his back, practically leaning on top of him, you felt Tuxam breath hitched at the sudden contact of your body being so close to his.

“Y-y/n i don’t know if this appropriate, I still have a lot of work—Ah…!” A loud gasp escaped his lips, as your lips made contact with the back of his neck. He gripped the handles of his chair, biting his bottom to hold back his moans, as you continued your assaults on his neck.

You pulled back from his neck with a wet popping noise, taking a second to admire the hickey you left on his neck. Looking at the whimpering and shaking man beneath you, a thrill of excitement and pleasure rushed over you, as you roughly bended the smaller knight over the table in front of the chair that he was sitting in, his hat falling off his head and landing on the floor.

Your hot breath tickled his now bright red ears, and any thought or complaint he had before, were immediately shut down once he felt your body was fully on top of him.

“Is work really your biggest concern right now, Tuxam? Looks like I need to straighten that out…” You whispered in his ear, not missing just how flushed his face turned as you spoke. You slowly lifted his chin towards you, staring at his bright blue eyes that were once very anxious and stressed, now dazed and full of heat, and begging for you to take him.

You captured his lips with yours, and you were pleasantly surprised at the level of enthusiasm that you were met with. Even though Tuxam was not the tallest of his class, he was still a pretty strong knight at the end of the day, and if he wanted to, he would have no trouble flipping you over so he could leave for work, at any given moment.

So the fact that he not only stayed for this long, but was equally as needy and craved for this just as much as you did, made your heart flutter. You didn’t realize the growing insecurity that was looming over you about the state of your relationship, but as you felt Tuxam whimpering underneath you and trying to chase your lips, once you pulled away, you knew everything would be okay.

“You’re so loud Tuxam, do you really want the whole castle to hear you? That’s not very knightly of you~” You teased. Before he could retort, a loud moan escaped from his lips as you grind your hips against him, which only seemed to excite you and motivate you further.

As you quickly unbuckled his pants, pulling the waistband, exposing his rear end, Tuxam closed his eyes shut, fully aware that he was not going to be able to get back to work at all. And while usually, the thought of not completing work would put him over the edge, but today he didn’t mind at all.

For he has learned that maybe it’s not so bad taking a break from his duties every once and a while… especially if this is what’s in store for him when he does, then he might be inclined to take even more breaks.

#🍓: memoria #sanrio #fragmem #fragaria memories #tuxam #tuxam x reader #fragaria memories x reader #fragaria memories imagines #fragmem x reader #suggestive

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cevansbrat0007 · 1 year

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If GP Andy is still accepting questions...what would he say is the kinkiest thing he and his wife ever got up to? Does he have anything else left on like a sexual bucket list he wants to try?

Summary: Andrew Barber is back to answer even more of your burning questions about his relationship dynamic with his wife. This time involving his various kinks and his sexual bucket list. Written from Andy's POV. Also, check out Volume I.

Warning: the following response contains mature themes, including references to sexual kinks, ass play, role play, D/s lifestyles, spanking, blackmail, oral sex, ex-boyfriends, BDSM clubs, cursing, and more. Minors DNI.

A/N: This installment of A Word with Andy Barber also contains a brief reference to my fic, Happy Place, Interrupted. For more insight into Andrew Barber and his Baby Girl, please check out my ongoing Growing Pains Series. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

___

So, it’s recently come to my attention through Baby Girl that we’ve received another question. I say “we” because I only feel comfortable answering these with her approval. We’re a team, my princess and I, and I never want to make her uncomfortable. As with the last correspondence, I have permission to answer your questions however I see fit – provided that I remain honest and that I share my answers with my brat when I’m finished.

No problem. Let’s dive in, shall we?

Hmm. The kinkiest thing my wife and I have ever done. Everyone seems to have their own idea on what qualifies as kinky these days, which is fine. Just keep in mind that what works for us and our marriage may not necessarily work for you.

It’s not a secret that Baby Girl and I are big into role-play. We do it quite a bit actually. And while I tend to be the dominant force or the aggressor in a scene, we do occasionally shake things up. Recently, Mrs. Barber took on the role of a very ambitious employee who was committed to blackmailing her boss in an effort to move up the corporate ladder.

She had also come into several very incriminating photos as well. I mean, she threatened to tell my wife and ruin my good name in the process if I didn’t see to her needs. What choice did I possibly have but to satisfy her?

After all, she was going to tell my wife!

And once I let her take the reins and run the show, we both got really into it. By the way, this wasn’t just a single scene, but one of many that spanned a little over a month. We met several times at the house and at various hotels – when we could, of course.

Sometimes life gets in the way of our play. Especially when you happen to have four kids. One of the times we had a pre-planned rendezvous, we got a call that Rory threw up during recess. Which meant we had to cancel so that one of us could go pick her up from school.

Anyway, what made this game especially kinky for me was that I allowed my supposed blackmailer to take even more pictures of myself in a few rather compromising positions. Which may or may not have included a video of her…

Fingering my ass.

I’d never had it done before. And sure we had talked it over quite a bit beforehand. My lady and I watch porn together, so we’d seen videos. I’m not saying that I plan on letting Baby Girl shove a dildo up my ass anytime soon – the concept of pegging makes my dick wilt – but the whole experience was definitely different. And once she found my prostate, I came like a fucking geyser.

After that, she sat on my face and ordered me to eat her until she was satisfied. She recorded that as well, and even played both back for me the last time we met up, just in case I got too cocky and thought about blowing the whistle on the whole thing.

Guess that just means that I’ll have to keep doing what my blackmailer says so she doesn’t release the goods. Again, it’s not like I have much of a choice. Right? I figure I’ll be on the hook with this one for a while.

At least until her promised promotion comes through.

Anyway, Baby Girl also enjoys playing the role of a bored trophy wife. Which usually makes me the resident handyman. This particular scene always starts out fairly sweet and benign, but then evolves into something altogether different.

It’s my job to try to resist her advances. But the more I do that, the more persistent and dominant my little wife (sorry, employer) often becomes. Last time, she somehow tied me up and subjected me to the most delicious bouts of torture…

And I enjoyed every goddamned minute of it.

I’m telling you that I never thought I would be into situations where I wasn’t the aggressor. But with her, I do. Honestly, I feel like I could spend hours watching fucking paint dry with that woman, and she would find a way to make it a good time.

Probably because we’d end up fucking on the floor or something. Whatever. I don’t know. Let’s just blame the nonexistent paint fumes, alright?

Moving on.

In the spirit of sharing, I will also tell you that my wife and I enjoy meeting as “strangers” at random bars so that I can pick her up . I usually let her lead in those scenarios and base my various approaches on whatever vibe she presents me with that night. My Baby Girl loves it, as do I. The only thing I don’t enjoy is when other men take it upon themselves to hit on her too.

Because she doesn’t always wear her wedding ring when we play. Drives me up the fucking wall. But since it can sometimes be an unintended consequence of the game, I usually just force myself to grit my teeth and let that shit ride.

After all, what those ignorant fucks don’t realize is the woman they’re tripping over themselves for already has a man – me. And one way or another, she’s going home with that man tonight – whether it’s on my arm or over my shoulder. Truthfully, I don’t much care which way she chooses. But those are my sweet little brat’s only options.

On to the next question. It seems you’re curious about my sexual bucket list. Fair question. My wife and I occasionally frequent a certain club. As I’m sure you can gather, these types of clubs are geared towards people with particular interests.

And yes, we are both members.

Baby Girl and I go together – I wouldn’t damn let my woman set foot in there by herself. Not that she’d allow me to ever go alone either. Even though I used to before I met her. At the time it seemed like the only way to get my needs met, but in all reality, I was engaging in some serious self-discovery.

For anonymity purposes I won’t give the name of the venue, but visiting always makes for an entertaining night out. We have rules for these nights of course. One that I’ll share with you all is that she wears a collar at all times. This is a must. And she’ll earn herself a spanking if she takes it off.

I might as well go out on a limb and tell you a little more about the collar, shouldn’t I? In case you were wondering, it’s made of black leather with the words “Daddy’s Girl” embossed on the front in pink rhinestones. It was actually her idea, funny enough. She surprised me with it way back when she realized that I possessed a bit of a housewife kink.

But back to the club. Thanks to our nights out, I’ve learned that my princess can be a bit of a voyeur. She likes to watch other people during scenes. Nothing too crazy. But knowing how wet she gets seeing people enjoying a dash of pain with their pleasure…

Just anticipating the breathy sighs and delicate whimpers that are sure to come as she clings to me, her Daddy, gets me hard as fuck. Lately, Baby Girl has expressed a serious desire to (maybe) perform while others are watching us during a scene.

At first I was against the idea. In case you didn’t already know, I can be one hell of a possessive bastard. She and I have been together a long fucking time already and I don’t plan on changing any time soon. I just don’t. And in that same vein, I also don’t want anyone seeing my woman the way that only I have been allowed to see her.

Look. I know she had two other partners before me, but I don’t give a fuck. I will continue to pretend like they don’t exist unless one of them feels like showing up at my front door. I’m looking at you, Malcolm Waters. Fuck around and find out again if you want to, buddy.

That aside, I simply don’t like the idea of anyone who isn’t me knowing what Baby Girl looks like when she cums. It’s a beautiful sight that simply isn’t meant to be shared. Nor do I want them seeing her body, not when every inch of those sweet, luscious curves belong to me.

Daddy doesn’t fucking share. It is what the fuck it is.

But since she was apparently expecting my reluctance, my Baby Girl came prepared with a compromise. What she wants instead is for me to punish her during our scene and then “force” her to suck me off as penance. I get to choose where I want to cum – be it in her mouth, on her face, or on her chest.

I’d be lying if I said the thought didn’t excite me. And if the situation proved to be too much for either one of us, we could always tap out and resume the scene again behind closed doors. But even though it’s a tentative thing, I suppose you could throw it on our list. Now, how’s that for an answer?

As always, I hope my above responses to all of your questions will continue to suffice for the time being. Thank you for being so respectful. And again, should you find yourself with more, please feel free to pass them along.

Sincerely, Andrew Barber

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themotherofhorses · 1 month

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Hey,

I was wondering if you were going to finish any of your aemond fics??? No rush or hate just curious :)

Hello, sweetheart! I’m so terribly sorry for being super duper late at answering this question. I’ve been completely AWOL for months; y’all deserve an explanation why.

Explanation below the cut (mentions of an ED (one word), racism, and death threats):

To answer your question — I would LOVE to finish my Aemond fanfics; however, it probably won’t happen until much later (maybe when S2 is released).

The reason? Around late 2023, I decided to take a step away from the HOTD fandom. The reasons were pretty mundane, if I’m honest:

— I became gradually disinterested in the show.

— Academics took over my priorities.

— My attention shifted to different topics; for example, the Call of Duty franchise and personal OCs of mine.

However. HOWEVER, in wake of certain (and VERY tragic) circumstances, I would also like to share my personal experiences with the racism plaguing the community.

As you all know, I’m a mixed Indigenous and Hispanic woman; this isn’t a surprise. I’m very proud of my heritage. But, around April 2023, I began receiving an incredible amount of racially-motivated hate. Over the span of months, anonymous slurs clogged up my inbox (e.g., “squaw,” “reservation indian,” “beaner,” and “mojado”) while other anons sent me a slew of death threats and other ill-mannered comments, especially involving my anorexia.

In fact—around September of 2023–I was actually told to “unalive myself” because my OC’s (Balenyra Red Rivers) main nickname (baby bal) was similar to another fandom writer’s nickname. Now, allow me to explain:

the reasoning for the nickname “baby bal” is because my Bal’s characterization included being introverted and sweet. Think of her like Fluttershy from MLP (perhaps a random comparison but it’s the truth! Ask @chainsawsangel. She’s like Bal’s other mother).

I also call my Bal “babybal cheese,” even though she’s lactose intolerant like me.

Anyways. That’s off topic. Receiving racist messages like that truly dampens a person’s mood. What is the point of writing if every time you open this app, you’re met face-to-face with such racism?

Because of such, I decided to go on a HOTD-hiatus, and focus my energy on other things.

BUT. BUUUTTTTTT:

As long as the river flows and the grass grows, I will have deep love for my fanfics, as well as all my beloved mutuals.

Truth be told, the HOTD fandom does possess an exceptional amount of talented and amazing writers, many of whom I’ve been blessed to meet. While the fandom isn’t calling my name back right now, I hope to return in the future, to finish all my work.

Ahé'hee to everyone who had supported me in this journey, in both the HOTD and CoD worlds! 🫶🏼

EDIT: I accidentally got a date wrong in the post. Fixed it. It was meant to say ”2023” — I said “2024”.

#vic talks #ask #hotd fandom #house of the dragon fandom #hotd fandom drama #anti fandom #somewhat #idk how to tag this #like racism??😭

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blondietalks · 8 months

Text

Is blogging still relevant in the age of TikToks and Instagram?

Hi, it’s blondietalks here! On this week of my Digital Communities thread, I will be exploring the topic of blogging and its relevance in the current Internet atmosphere.

In my opinion, blogging is still relevant in some ways. However, it is incomparable to the relevance of TikTok and Instagram as the public spheres on these platforms are getting more engagement by the day.

The Pilot episode of the Internet: Blogging

Blogging was the foundation of the rise of the Internet. Blog websites – formerly known as weblogs, created the first public sphere for people all over the world to come together online. Before blogging, traditional websites that were set up by big companies did not allow a two-way communication system for the readers to interact with (Duermyer 2022). Blogs have become a public sphere by allowing equal participation for the users and the sharing of public opinion.

Knowing this it is no surprise that a large chunk of users still use the Internet to blog as their way to embody their online presence. Being a part of the blogging community – for example, being a member of a subgroup on Reddit – gives people a sense of community and support from the peers whom they interact with. In all its glory, people still blog because there are others who still demand for it and engage with it, in turn making it somewhat relevant.

The Relevance of Blogging

When people search on Google “why does my Epson printer won’t go online”, they most likely wouldn’t want to watch a whole video explaining why. This is where blog posts come in handy when people are searching for content that they can glance through quickly. Blog posts are still mainly the first result that appears when you search for a topic on Google. The Google algorithm that prevails blog websites on their platform is what keeps these blogs around.

Some people turn to blogging because it gives them a sense of anonymity. For people outside of my circle, you wouldn’t know who I am writing this blog post on Tumblr. People feel more comfortable writing their thoughts online instead of recording a video of themselves talking on media-based platforms. Based on an article on BBC (2021), online anonymity helps people to openly speak up about their concerns while protecting their privacy. Using platforms that focus on pieces of writing instead of media that might expose their identity allows the participation of anonymous users.

Blogging vs. TikTok and Instagram

So how does blogging fit in the current rise of TikTok and Instagram?

Blogs are getting less engagement these days because people are more attracted to fast-paced content. As the attention span of social media users get shorter and shorter, content that are digestible and easy to follow will get the engagement that they strive for.

An example of how Instagram can be used to capture the attention of social media users is the phenomenon of spreading political and environmental education with the use of infographics. Instead of reading through lengthy blogs about a chosen topic, resourceful accounts such as the Instagram account below make information more digestible and attainable for people.

@/impact on Instagram posting an infographic about the history of slavery. Link: https://www.instagram.com/p/CwS5HGGu1wH/?hl=en&img_index=1

People also prefer TikTok and Instagram over blog websites because of the intelligent algorithms that these applications offer. These platforms can learn a user’s interest just by their engagement and activity on the application. According to Huang (2022), generation Z are using TikTok as their search engine because of its powerful algorithm that makes searching for information more convenient. TikTok is constantly learning the user’s behaviour and presenting them with content that is in their favour.

Video-based platforms give people an enriched experience with visual stimulation compared to blog websites. Based on Huang (2022), a TikTok user stated that a restaurant review on the application feels more genuine based on watching the reviewer’s facial expressions. People use TikTok to obtain product and establishment reviews because they can observe it first-hand through video recording.

The conclusion

So, in conclusion, just because blogging is not trending through the charts anymore, that doesn't mean that it’s completely irrelevant. I believe that blogging is still relevant as ever because people will go back and forth between platforms and in ways of expressing themselves on the Internet. Some days they feel like hopping onto TikTok trends – and another day they might write up their opinion on Tumblr under a hashtag that no one else is reading through.

That's all for this week, catch up with you guys soon :)

List of references Duermyer, R 2022, ‘What is blogging?’, The Balance, 29 November, viewed 1 October 2023, <https://www.thebalancemoney.com/blogging-what-is-it-1794405>. Huang, K 2022, ‘For Gen Z, TikTok is the new search engine’, The New York Times, 16 September, viewed 1 October 2023, <https://www.nytimes.com/2022/09/16/technology/gen-z-tiktok-search-engine.html>. BBC 2021, ‘Social media: should people be allowed to be anonymous online?’, BBC, 26 February, viewed 1 October 2023, <https://www.bbc.co.uk/newsround/56114122 >.

#MDA20009 #Week4

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thetypedwriter · 9 months

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Fourth Wing Book Review

Fourth Wing Book Review by Rebecca Yarros

This book is incredibly popular. Unbelievably popular, actually. We’re talking about Colleen Hoover levels of popularity. On the one hand, I get it, I truly do. On the other hand, I think this book is beyond basic and shouldn’t be garnering the attention it currently is.

Yarros’ novel is set in a fantasy world with typical mythical names like Navarre and Tyrrendor where dragons and magic and a never-ending war exists. In terms of a fantasy world, nothing about Yarros’ universe is astonishing, interesting, or even remotely novel.

While this sounds incredibly harsh, it’s actually very smart from a marketing perspective and only adds to the book’s high demand because while it’s a fantasy world and therefore intriguing, nothing about it is very unique or complex—allowing new and old readers alike to delve in without stressing about the world and its intricacies. Instead, readers can focus almost exclusively on the action and romance, two things this book has in droves.

So while the fantasy setting allows for high stakes intensity, fighting, and dragons, dragons, and more dragons, nothing about it is complicated or even very important.

How does the magic system work? Some vague explanation of wards and that’s about it. Why is there a war? Don’t worry about it. Why was there a rebellion? You don’t need to know the intricacies of the whys and hows, only that the children of the traitors are alive and intermingling with the rest of the citizens, increasing tension.

However, as I mentioned above, while the setting is mundane it does allow Yarros to submerge her chapters in action and intrigue without much of a break. This is one of the main reasons why I think Fourth Wing is topping the bestseller’s list: it is constantly entertaining.

All of us have short attention spans these days, and Fourth Wing fills the gaping need to be consistently amused and engaged at all times, which Yarros delivers upon brilliantly. Every chapter contains some fight, life-or-death situation, a competition, someone trying to murder the main character, a break in, a break out, or a sex scene. That would account for 90% of all chapters in Fourth Wing.

That being said, it’s not necessarily a criticism. People obviously love the constant action and it keeps the book engaging and fluid. While I can recognize that Yarros is writing to fulfill a societal need and that constructing multiple chapters of action is genuinely difficult, it’s also not my favorite thing.

I have said time and time again that I’m a character driven reader. I would say the equation for Fourth Wing is 80% action and 20% character interaction. Personally, I would prefer a more equal distribution of action to character progression and growth, but I also recognize that’s a me problem.

In terms of Yarros’ characters, they are…meh. I think they’re extremely basic, but once again, I’m not surprised why people are foaming at the mouth for their story. The main character is Violet, nicknamed Violence, and she is the epitome of a perfect character. She’s extremely intelligent, generous, kind, brave, determined, stubborn, and sexy. You name it and she’s got it.

Her only “weakness” is literally that: she has a “weak” body. However, this weakness barely matters as she often overcomes it without any problem whatsoever. Yarros does have some descriptions of Violet wrapping her knee or being at a disadvantage physically during fights, but by the end of the book Violet is a certified badass who can take down anyone.

Violet’s “flaw”, if you can even call it that, doesn’t make her a more interesting character. It makes things infinitesimally more challenging for her and attracts some enemies, but she already has enemies because of her mother’s high status.

Other than this physical burden, Violet is literally perfect. There is nothing wrong with her, which makes her extremely boring and hard to relate to. I want complex human beings that have strengths and weaknesses, not unimaginable goddesses with brittle bones.

The only other character of importance, Xaden, is also the epitome of hot and flawless. He’s sexy, handsome, brooding, smart, and crazy talented. His only so-called detriment is that he can be a bit closed off and reticent, but that’s it.

He’s shouldering the lives of over a hundred orphans and can do no wrong. He’s also the hottest, the strongest physically, the most popular, and the most talented because of course he is.

Both Xaden and Violet also have two most powerful dragons that exist and their dragons are a mated pair, meaning that Violet and Xaden are inextricably tied together for life.

In addition to this, they have the rarest signets (magical powers) consisting of wielding shadows and controlling lightning, the likes which haven’t been seen in ages. Sigh.

I hate it so much. I’m so sick and tired of the trope of the main character being the strongest and most beautiful and then falling for the hottest and strongest guy who’s slightly cold, but actually the world’s best person.

The fact that they have the strongest dragons and the most powerful abilities also irks me. It’s not interesting. I predicted it from a mile away. Do something different, something better. But no, that’s not what we get in Fourth Wing.

You could argue that it was surprising that Violet bonds with two dragons, but think about it. Is it really? Also, I think Andarna plays no role other than to make Violet even more saint-like than she is. The other characters in Fourth Wing don’t matter. I make this statement often, but it could not ring more true for Fourth Wing.

Yarros throws so many characters at you and yet nothing about them sticks. Other than Xaden, and arguably Liam, Rhiannon, and Dain, no characters have any depth, nuance, or significance. In a book as large as Fourth Wing I find that hugely disappointing.

Even Liam, Rhiannon, and Dain are all one-dimensional characters at best. Some people tout that the relationship between Dain and Violet is interesting, but I don’t think it is at all. It is clear from the first chapter that Xaden is her game-end and Dain becomes increasingly aggravating and villainized as the book goes on.

Something else that Yarros does with her characters is make them very black-and-white. They’re either angels capable of doing no wrong or the most vehement villains to walk the planet. This opposition is incredibly boring and didn’t fuel my interest in any of the characters.

Fourth Wing’s plot, which I haven’t spoke much about yet, essentially follows the simple idea that Violet is meant to be a scribe, became a rider instead due to her mother’s negligent insistence, avoids being murdered while going to classes and participating in nonsensical competitions, and falls in love with Xaden Riorson.

That’s it. That’s the whole plot.

Multiple elements of the narrative also make no sense. For example, you're telling me that the youngest, most athletic, most talented people of your nation are being slaughtered for arbitrary reasons?

It makes zero sense. Riders are simply allowed to kill each other during fighting practice and during competitions. Think about that for one second in a logistical lens and realize how ludicrous that is as a nation.

The only reason Yarros puts it into her novel is because it's edgy and increases tension but it's genuinely really stupid.

There’s some heavy action at the end with Violet throwing lightning left and right after being betrayed. Except the betrayal can barely even be defined as such and is probably only happening because Yarros is trying to keep tension up. Maybe she thinks readers will get bored if Xaden and Violet are simply together and in love.

I’ll never understand why authors do this. We want to see them together. Let me see them navigate a relationship and the pitfalls that come with that. I don’t need some bullshit reason for them not to be together when everyone knows they’ll eventually reconcile and get back together anyway. Urgh.

Fourth Wing has a lot of elements that I find banal and that bother me, but as I also stated, it was highly entertaining at all moments. For this reason, I didn’t hate Fourth Wing. It does sort of blow my mind that this is the book that is being swept off shelves and beginning a cultural phenomenon, because at its core, I think it’s generic in almost every way.

However, maybe that’s what people want. Perhaps people want a simple fantasy with hot enemies-to-lovers moments and overpowered characters.

The end.

I just want something better.

Recommendation: If you want a watered down version of Game of Thrones and have been craving some alluring enemies-to-lovers moments with constant dragon-centered action thrown in, then Fourth Wing is a gold mine.

If you want something better than a generic fantasy with perfect main characters, a stereotypical universe, and a cliched plotline then avoid Fourth Wing. Not everything popular is worth the hype.

Score: 6/10

#book blog #book review #book recommendations #book rec #popular fiction #books #popular books #top books #book recs #fourth wing #violet and xaden #xaden riorson #rebecca yarros #violet sorrengail #favorite books #6/10 #dragons #magical fantasy

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dcstinyscdgc · 20 days

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RULES

This is a multifandom, multimuse, and multiverse blog. It is also selective, mutuals only, but please message if you are a sideblog so I can follow you appropriately! This blog is also not spoiler-free, the only time I may be tagging spoilers if it's an episode by episode release of a currently airing show, so if this is a problem, this is not the place for you.

General roleplay rules apply here: don't godmod, don't steal and claim something as your own, don't be an asshole, please come directly to me if there is something I need to correct so I can fix the problem as soon as possible. Triggers will be tagged appropriately; my own trigger is excessively graphic gore. Personals, please don't interact with any of my content. Minors, please go hang out with others your age as entering the adult space at a young age isn't as fun as you think it is.

Those who are strictly unwelcome here: racists of any kind, people who think pansexually is biphobic, xenophobes, zionists, and antisemites.

Crossovers and OCs are my life blood, and are 100% welcome here! Even if I'm unfamiliar with the fandom, universe, or culture, please tell me all the details so we can get creative and mesh together the universes as roleplaying is a collaborative hobby meant to be shared and enjoyed. Please be patient with me when I ask questions or become confused, I'm doing my best and am just trying to understand.

Plotting of some kind is preferred when interacting, it doesn't need to be extensive but I may pop into your DMs to help get a feel or idea for memes or starters I owe you from time to time. This is just how I operate, if you have something you prefer, we can find what works for both of us. Also when it comes to interactions, as I have a lot of muses and that can become overwhelming, when you can please tell me who you want or otherwise I'll randomize.

I reserve the right to drop threads at any time. This does not mean I don't want to write with you, there is plenty of other reasons why a thread might be dropped. And I'm always open to having multipe threads at one time, I encourage it, it allows us to have a range of muse combinations and plot bunnies.

When it comes to shipping, I adore all forms of shipping. In cases of romantic and or sexual, I do ship based off chemistry. Even if that chemistry is the two of us thinking x character fits well with y character and making barbies kiss. If you think two (or more characters) work together well or you want to experiment with something, you are more than welcome to throw suggestions at me.

I'm Lins (26, she/her, central standard time), this blog will be low activity blog, however you can almost always find me if we're mutuals on discord. That is my primary form of contact over Tumblr IMs, but I will use those if that's what's comfortable for you. I'm neurodivergent, so my spoons and attention span are sometimes all over the place when I am online.

Many of the graphics on this blog have been made by the loml, @roscvcins, an absolute doll and I love her and what she makes so much.

#rules.

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stevetonyweekly · 1 year

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SteveTony Weekly - March 12th

Hello and welcome to this week’s recs! Lots of little fics this week--I’ve had a very short attention span and short little snatches of time. Anyway--enjoy and be sure to leave a comment/kudo for your fic authors!

~*~

Oh Hey There by royal_chandler

Because it's just not college if your room hasn’t been the inadvertent destination spot of at least one intoxicated person.

Dare I Say Forever? by royal_chandler

Naive and young, Steve had thought about it. He’d allowed himself to dream of post-war, matching gold bands and a white picket fence penning in a rambunctious pair of children.

However, there’s no such thing as post-war.

Lose My Weary Mind by royal_chandler

It's not right. It's not right. But neither is his life without Steve.

Time Machine by ashes0909, HogwartsToAlexandria, Juulna, peppypear, royal_chandler

“You know, when I mentioned needing a time machine to fix the ills of my life last week, I didn’t mean it literally, Tony,” Steve sighed, albeit fondly.

Or: A night not unlike so many others.

Written for the Put On The Suit Discord Server Relay

In Our Bedroom, After the War by royal_chandler

It’s not to say that Steve had ever anticipated the culling of half the universe or its aftermath. No, that’s well beyond the edges of any damnation he could have imagined. However, when he touches himself in the new world and can’t find completion, he’s stolen by surprise, and then anger, that this too has been taken away.

Transient by royal_chandler

There’s a 1A classification sitting on Steve’s bureau in his bedroom and he’s been so sick in his life, sick of many things; he’d like to no longer be sick of not having sex.

I and Love and You by royal_chandler

Tony should really no longer be surprised by how right Steve gets it. Even though he’s not really meant to add anything to this discussion he’s overhearing, he’s left speechless. He’s entirely overwhelmed by how much he loves this man. He loves them both so much it hurts, makes his eyes water.

Took All the Trees (And Put ’em in a Tree Museum) by youcancallmearrow

Steve's homesick for the past and Tony can't cope with the present. Moving on is easier when you aren't doing it alone.

Featuring: Steve's super-secret weakness, the best cheeseburgers in America, and an awful lot of elevator scenes for a one-shot!

Trusting You with Lovin' Me by ralsbecket

“There’s a… neighborhood thing, later,” Tony said, waving a hand with clinking keys. “Trick-or-treating. Why don’t you come with us?” It was neutral ground. An open invitation. I trust you. I want you to meet my daughter hung softly in the air.

Charcoal Dust in My Eyes by betheflame, Nixie_DeAngel

Dr. Tony Stark teaches engineering at Stonybrook University, so he assumed his son would attend there. Instead, Peter chooses nearby Fallwell State and gets assigned Art Professor Steve Rogers as an interdisciplinary advisor.

If that wasn't annoying enough, Rogers' best friend Bucky happens to be the guy who Tony and his best friend Pepper have a bit of a history with and NO ONE holds a grudge like Tony Stark.

But then... Pepper tells him to stand down and so does Peter and what if Bucky isn't the enemy... does that mean he can do something about this crush on Steve?

Shaped for Action by royal_chandler

Tony buys a Camaro for an American classic.

You're In My Blood (Like Holy Wine) by royal_chandler

Being with a hooker was supposed to be easy but Tony gets more than he bargained for.

5 times tony indulges steve's strength kink + 1 time he doesn't mean to by meidui

Steve really appreciates how strong Tony is.

nobody saves me, baby (the way you do) by Capstiddies, meidui

“You’re a firefighter.”

“You’re—half naked.”

Steve fights fires and rescues kittens for a living these days because of course he does; of course that man doesn’t know how to properly retire. So now Steve has his firefighting career and Tony has a new complication in his long, winding relationship with Steve after parting ways without so much as a handshake.

Half True and All Stupid by royal_chandler

What it says on the tin. Tony bought Peter Netflix, and oh god why.

felt with your two hands by ishipallthings

Steve lets out an exasperated huff. “It’s just, I can’t shave.” It’s such a small thing to be upset about, and yet here he is, fighting the urge to tear his bandages just to look clean-shaven again.

One glance at Tony shows that he’s surprised by Steve’s admission, eyes now fixed on the days-old scruff covering the bottom half of Steve’s face.

(In which Tony helps Steve with shaving, and the close proximity leads to so much more than either of them anticipated.)

daynight, daylight by ishipallthings

When it happens, it feels completely unexpected and yet inevitable at the same time.

(A cool summer night, an accidental kiss, and a realization years in the making.)

Seeking Companionship by AvengersNewB

The story of someone putting a personal ad in the newspaper, hoping to find a kind companion, who finds much more; everything he always wanted but never knew he could have - told all in letters.

----

I’m a man in my 30s, looking to be heard, to be understood, before being judged. If you’re a man with a big heart, and some time to listen, I’m looking for you and I promise to listen and understand in return - only non-drinkers. Write to PO 721.

Stained Glass by tourdefierce

Tony Stark was called a lot of things, but tender wasn't one of them. Too bad his super-hero boyfriend disagreed.

The Worst You Can Do Is Harm by theladyingrey42

So what if Tony Stark has a folder of pictures JARVIS recognizes alternately as Project Rebirth (when Tony's sober), Project Hero Worship (when he's tipsy), and Project Spank Bank (when he's drunk)? No big deal. Unless Loki destroys Avengers Mansion and Hawkeye ends up finding the damn pictures and showing them to Steve. And if there's maybe a teeny-tiny misunderstanding about why precisely Tony has them.

In which Loki is a dick, Thor is the bestest drinking buddy ever, and Tony has a hard time saying what he means.

We Are Briefly Gorgeous by KandiSheek

Tony finds himself in a gay bar right after signing his divorce papers, drowning his sorrows. Turns out the handsome stranger that chats him up is just the distraction he needs.

The Plainest Words Are The Finest by theladyingrey42

In which Tony Stark never ever, ever says what he means.

Except when he does.

#stevetony weekly #stony #stony weekly #stevetony #fic #fic rec #rec list #stevetony fic #steve rogers #tony stark #iron man #captain america

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mdhwrites · 1 year

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🦝 This question is simple but I thinks it packs a lot. How does TOH write/treat it's male characters?

Short version: They're either villains at one point, incompetent or comic relief. There are literally only three guys (at least that me and one other person) could figure out who do not fall into one of these three categories and many of them end up in multiple over the course of their time on the show. That's pretty shit for an entire gender. Okay, so I should preface that I'm not trying to call the crew of TOH Femi-Nazis or anything like that. I don't think the treatment of male characters in the show is a conscious choice or anything. Reminder: It's okay to hate a piece of media, it's another to hate the creators for making it. As far as I know, the creators of TOH are good people. That doesn't change that how the guys are treated is pretty fucking shit. And kind of always in the same ways. Even from S1 you get my three main versions of male characters. (Caveat: This doesn't stop any of the male characters from potentially being good characters. You can like them with them falling into these things. However, these are also roles with little respect or care attached to them and that does matter in aggregate). They are either evil (ALMOST all of the one off villains in S1 count for this. It would be all who aren't actually monsters if not for Once Upon a Swap.) or bare minimum start as evil which is why Darius doesn't avoid this. And if you want to claim "But they were just pretending," then why did they go so hard on trying to kill Raine once it was just Raine, them and Eda? Comic relief, at least for the majority of their appearances: King, Gus, Hooty to name a couple really obvious but REALLY BIG DEAL ones. And by comic relief, I don't just mean having jokes. Darius has jokes but is taken seriously (and is one of the only two 'straight men' (the comedy term) in the entire series despite it claiming to be a comedy). No, when I say comic relief I mean that their presence is commonly inconsequential, their plot lines are jokes if they have any and the characters themselves aren't taken seriously. And I named a main character, part of the main character's house so a major part of the setting, and a main supporting character. All of whom are guys. Or they're incompetent. This actually gets tacked onto a lot of the guys. Part of Gus' joke is how bad his illusions are at actually helping at any time. Alador may be capable as a craftsman but as a human being he has the attention span of a gnat.

And people can fall into multiple categories really easily. I already listed Gus in two of them after all. How about Hunter though? He starts as a villain but by his third appearance is the "Mad but sad boy" with no one taking him seriously. That problem only gets worse in Sport in a Storm where he somehow can't get anyone to want to join the EMPEROR'S COVEN and is a complete buffoon doing. I don't know if I could claim he is comic relief most of the time but he starts falling into being incompetent (especially since the only truly trained fighter in Hexide Squad is easily the least capable of them if we go off of how effective any of them are in combat) REALLY QUICKLY. I did mention that there were characters who didn't qualify for this. That means there's some good, right? ...They're more exceptions to the rule. One is Manny. Who is dead. One is Bump who... I'm kind of being REALLY generous to here. One could make a claim of him starting as a villain since the first time we meet him, he's there to dissect Luz but that's more just doing his job and he's definitely not the primary antagonist in that episode. He also never shows extreme incompetence or made out to commonly just be a joke. He is actually allowed to be serious, a good guy and a fairly decent character... With very little screen time and impact. And then you have Dell. Eda's dad. Who has all of five minutes of screen time. Those are your good, competent, taken seriously, male characters. Good job TOH. Now... A few days ago, I would have actually talked about TOH not having this be a gender thing as much as it's a flipping of what happens in male, main cast focused shows. Those shows will treat their female characters pretty poorly. Only problem is that that hasn't been nearly as true since... the 80s or 90s? If even then? I mean I grew up with Danny Phantom and Kim Possible, Total Drama Island, etc. from that time period and I'm not going to say the gender balance was always great but it was better than TOH. If we go even younger for me, there was a show called Recess that was AMAZING with its diverse, six character main cast. The shows that do still fuck this up... Aren't shows you want to compare to TOH. They're your garbage that's not being given a lot of care because 'it's a kid's show'. It certainly isn't what you get from the good shit nowadays where you have Amphibia, Gravity Falls, Steven Universe, etc. just to name a few off the top of my head. So if it's not because they're guys, but I also can't excuse as just a writing trope... Why are all the guys shit? I mean... It's probably just because TOH doesn't see its characters as characters. A lot of little touches are missing in even the girls. Remember, canonically, Amity is a skater. A skater who is good enough at it, and dedicated enough, that when her and Luz need to get out of somewhere fast, she summons a skateboard for her, Luz and Kikimora in Falls and Follies. Is it effective and technically works? Sure. Does it fit high society, book worm Amity Blight? Fuck no. And that's one of the characters obviously care a LOT about. So yeah, the guys, none of whom until Hunter and Belos are ever taken that seriously in the show, are going to get shafted. Most of the characters do just filling in whatever role or joke the writers need them to. And seeing as honestly very little humor in TOH plays into wordplay or interplay between the characters, you are left mostly with slapstick and punching down on other characters and their traits. And that sucks for the whole show. =========

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead, If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

And finally a Twitter you can follow too!

#TOH #Hunter #Gus

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gingerrrprince · 6 months

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Asher; child of bhaal

CW // blood, guts, small child experiencing bad things, dead animal, overall pretty dead-dove-do-not-eat

I was struck by the desire to write some of the lore I've been microwaving in my head for my dark urge dragonborn, Asher. Dark Urge by nature has some pretty gross, fucked up themes so please be cautious and mind the warnings.

Also, I am not a writer by any stretch of the imagination.

As an infant dragonborn, Asher is first adopted to two lovely Dwarven parents who are immediately smitten with him. His early childhood years are happy, marked by expected milestones - first words, first steps, lost teeth, birthdays celebrated with cake and candles. However, as a dragonborn with two Dwarven parents, Asher is quickly made aware of the atypical nature of his family. Children would stare and point only to be quickly shuffled away by their parents, whose eyes would linger on the odd little family, casting silent judgment. For most of his early years, the awkward attention would just make him sorrowful and huffy and he'd run to his parents to console him. His mother would stroke his head with soothing, calloused hands, offering kind reassurance to her son. Time passed, as it always does.

By age seven, Asher begins to experience “episodes” - one moment he'd be playing as any child does, the next he'd see nothing but red, everyone's bodies turned inside out, his own hands appearing completely flayed and raw. Blood, muscle, sinew. His mouth would start watering. And then he'd snap out of it, as though it were nothing more than the gentle passing of a summer breeze. He bottled these horrors up, wedging the cork so desperately tight lest his visions threaten to slither and leak from his skull. The only mention Asher would make of these changes were documented in a leather-bound journal he had been gifted when he first learned to read and write; a vessel for thrilling tales of heroic adventurers and their good deeds, penned by the scribbly, excitable hand of a child. He would often make accompanying drawings, some spanning multiple pages, all of them colorful and representative of an active childhood imagination. The earlier years of Asher’s life were recorded boldly and loudly, as is a child’s way. But darkness began to seep in from the corners. He allowed himself just this one outlet, this ugly secret quietly kept between himself and the yellowing pages of his journal.

By age eight, the waking nightmares would get more frequent . These thoughts in his head became even more sinister as Asher began to recognize the faces of the tormented. Friends he played ball with, the local grocer woman, church acquaintances, but perhaps most disturbingly - his adopted mother and father. These thoughts were still blurred around the edges, the faces a little too smudged to be proper resemblances. But they were becoming clearer by the day.

By age nine, his thoughts were nearly entirely consumed by his bloody fantasies. He socialized less and less and became more withdrawn, often stealing away to his bedroom to write and draw in his journal. The entries no longer depicted the fanciful whimsies of a child; the passages were harried and dire. Desperate. Frightened. Red ink smeared the wrinkling pages.

Eventually, it became too much for him to bear on his own. Afterall, he was still only a nine year old child. He went to his parents for comfort. He told them everything but spared some of the more gory details. The concern on his mother and father's faces was unmistakable and Asher felt like a monster from one of his stories. He asked them why this was happening - did he do something to anger the gods? Was he being punished for a crime he wasn’t aware he had committed? His parents did not know what to tell him but they did their best to comfort him and offer pacifying words, promising that they'd take him to see a healer who could put his mind at ease. He was young, his brain was still developing; he did not have to become the monster in his head. His mother took both of his hands into her own and kissed his knuckles.

That very evening as Asher lay in bed on the cusp of sleep, he heard a faraway voice telling him that he is loved and that he is perfect, just as he is. The voice advised against seeing a healer as there was nothing wrong with Asher. In fact - the voice urged - Asher should embrace these new dark delights. Didn't they make him feel good? Make his mouth water and his teeth itch with anticipation? It was exciting! A dirty little secret he was keeping all to himself. There was nothing wrong with him... You are special, that faraway voice cooed in his ear.

And Asher was special, wasn't he? He was good at running and fighting with wooden swords, he did decently well in school and had friends to play pretend with. He was small for a dragonborn boy his age but he never let it get to him, even when schoolyard bullies tried to make him feel bad for it. Afterall, his parents were shorter than average too weren't they? And they were the toughest people Asher knew. He didn't view his small stature as a flaw. You are special, that voice would whisper softly and Asher began to believe it.

Asher was several months into his ninth year when the gently urgent voice in his head coaxed him into doing something unspeakable. He had just gotten out of school and it had been a terrible day. The bullies were getting worse, more bold, their pestering turning physical; grubby, sticky hands would pull his tail and yank his horns. The teachers pretended not to see.

As Asher took towards home he decided to dip into the nearby forest to cool off in the river that was just beyond the treeline. He approached the river but stopped in his tracks, his attention diverted to the sounds of gargled yelps and oddly human-like screams originating from a nearby bush. His curiosity piqued, Asher scrambled through the branches and found an adult rabbit with a dreadful gash sliced across its ribs. Its eyes were milky and a foul stink of oncoming death drifted under Asher’s nose. It was clearly still alive, though just barely. Asher focused on it with intent, both delighted and horrified by the pained sounds the poor thing was making. Without a further thought, he knelt down next to the dying rabbit and slid a finger across the jagged wound in the animal's abdomen. Asher brought his bloodied finger to his lips and flicked his blue tongue across his skin. His eyes widened. It was as though a fire was spreading from that single point of contact where his finger touched his tongue, blazing down his neck, across his back, scorching his arms and legs. His heart began to pump loudly in his ears and then - that voice. The Urge.

DEVOUR IT

Panic rose somewhere underneath the raging inferno that boiled his blood and Asher desperately held his palms to his mouth, bile rising in his throat. But despite the alarm and the metallic tang of fear on the back of his tongue, his stomach growled. He lowered his hands from his mouth only to find that he was drooling, rivulets of saliva cascading in delicate strings through his pointed teeth and down his chin. The world blackened at the edges and Asher felt his body pull closer towards the rabbit as though the small furry body was the source of all the world’s gravity. Time ticked by in snapshots until Asher was cradling the broken body in his hands.The next moment was silent, save for the wet sounds of Asher ripping and tearing, gnawing and grinding, utterly voracious and desperate to reduce the dying animal to offal in his guts.

As Asher sucked the last remnants of marrow from the rabbit's femur, his teeth cracking off small bone fragments to grind to dust in his jaws, his head began to clear. The first sound that broke through the deafening silence was the rush of the river. At first, Asher couldn't distinguish it over the rush of his own pulse but his boiling blood soon began to simmer until, once more, he was himself. He sat on his knees wide-eyed and silent, his bloodied hands limp in his lap. The cracked and chewed femur was the only remaining proof that there had been a rabbit at all. Asher stifled a yelp and tossed the bone into the trees before scrambling to his feet and stumbling towards the river. He wanted to vomit but all attempts ended in failure - the rabbit had made his guts its final resting place. Asher gulped handfuls of river water to cleanse the iron sting clinging to his taste buds but no amount could rid the taste completely. He looked down at his hands and saw that his pearlescent scales were stained a scarlet hue and he hurriedly grabbed a piece of moss to scrub the grime away.

By the time Asher had cleaned himself up to the best of his ability, the sky was already darkening. His parents would surely question his whereabouts. He picked himself up and resolutely strode out of the woods, determined to forget the horrors that had just transpired.

The voice in his head spoke, Magnificent. I am so proud of you.

But he didn't go hungry. As he lay in bed and idly rubbed his full stomach, a soft thrum began simmering across his nerves, setting his body awash in a warm, delightful haze. After a long while, he finally slept and dreamt of screaming rabbits.

As he trudged quietly back home, Asher pounded at his traitorous skull, willing himself to focus only on the dull throb. If his mind threatened to conjure the memory of the rabbit, his fists battered his head until the image grayed and faded. Asher was scared, confused, desperate for answers... Why was this happening to him? Who did the voice belong to? He wanted so badly to confide in his parents but his mouth couldn't form the words. His tongue tied itself into knots as he attempted to force truth from his throat. His own voice betrayed him and he had no excuses to offer when his parents ran to him with panicked questions. After a well-deserved scolding from his mother, Asher was put to bed without supper.

#the dark urge #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #dragonborn #please heed warnings #dead dove do not eat

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