#Multiple povs

[exquisitetomarrymortcorpse]

Week... well, does it even matter?

It's done, everyone. The corpse is live! (Not to be confused with 'Alive'.)

An Exquisite Corpse is a game in which each participant adds to a fanfiction in sequence by only being allowed to see the end of what the previous person contributed. Within these chapters is the story of a lifetime: a collection of 21 artists’ and writers' works spanning almost a year, seamlessly stitched together to create an exquisite tomarrymort corpse. These participants had no idea what the writer/artist before them made, and they still don't until they see this post. If the artists and writers could not communicate their full plots, storyboards, and images, how did they make a coherent story...? Well, they probably didn’t, but there's only one way to find out...

Thank you to our amazing participants! I'm sure you're all as excited as I am to finally see what everyone has made together - thank you for making this event so magical~

@toast-ranger-to-a-stranger, @chaos-bear, @boromirsayshi, @awyeahitssam, @caramel-raven, @sir-elian, @i-dream-of-libraries, @queasyghosts, @blackseatwenty, @theonceandfuturequeenoftarts, @cealesti, @curioushabitforarivergod, @known-concepts, @zadezy, @tommarvoloriddlesdiary, @aitafrog, @silverandbluephoenix, and @valkyrie-chemist

[1800naveen]

SJM's povs

I wouldn't hate on Acotar as much if it was written like how Throne of Glass was written. With multiple povs.

In the tog series, you have Celaena/Aelin, Chaol, Dorian, Manon, Rowan, Elide, Yrene, Aedion, etc, having their own povs. You get to see other characters and their perspective on things and their side of the story.

But in Acotar, there's an unreliable and biased narrator. We see things only through the perspective of Feyre and believe it to be truth (excluding acosf and acofas). SJM even said it herself that Feyre is biased when it comes to how people view Tamlin's character.

If we did have multiple povs in the Acotar series, people wouldn't hate Tamlin, Nesta, or Eris as much and the inner circle wouldn't have as many of their fans as they do now.

Anyways, what do you think about it?

[writingwithfolklore]

What advice would you have with a story that doesn’t necessarily have one set main character, but rather a group of important characters that influence the world around them? Is one set main character necessary?

Hi, thank you for the question!

Managing Multiple Main Characters

One main character is definitely not necessary. However, it depends how you define a main character. Are main characters just characters that have their own POV and arc? Or are they the point of the story telling? How significant does their impact on the world need to be?

Typically, even stories with multiple main characters (characters with POV and their own major arc), still has one main arc to follow that the others work with.

To make this point clearer, imagine a story with two main characters--one is a ballerina trying to land the main role of the show. The other is an astrophysicist discovering new things about our universe. At the end of the story, the ballerina lands the role, and the astrophysicist lands their promotion. One might wonder why these stories couldn't have each been their own novel, right?

So imagine instead, a ballerina is trying to land their dream role, and an astrophysicist is discovering new things about the universe. The theme for the upcoming ballet is space, so the ballerina goes to the astrophysicist for inspiration--leading to a blending of discovery, dance and science that leads the ballerina to landing the role and the physicist to opening their perspective on the universe.

Two main characters, but one 'story' that draws them together.

This is the most important part about writing multiple MCs. Readers typically expect--at some point--for the arcs of the MCs to intersect and work together. That's to say, if you have two characters who are both going through their own individual arcs completely separate from each other (such as the ballerina and physicist), at some point, they will have to interact or impact each other, and typically finish the story together, strengthened by their connection.

In cases of more than two main characters, it gets a bit more difficult. The more arcs and MCs your story has, the longer and more complicated it becomes.

To help with this, you can do a few things:

1. Have several arcs work together

Just like with two MCs, you can combine several of your MCs to going through arcs together. They may have the same objective (maybe for different reasons/motivations/goals, but the same 'end-game'), or otherwise they have to help each other or bounce off each other to get to their goal.

Romantic subplots are a really easy example of this. Two characters have an arc that both contribute to the same thing: the relationship.

2. Make some arcs 'weigh' more than others

The project I'm working on right now has five major characters who all have arcs and POV chapters. Character A and B are the protagonists, but character A is the 'more main' character out of the two of them. Then characters C, D, and E still have arcs, but theirs are much smaller than A and B. They still take the entirety of the story to fulfill their arc, but require less chapters and scenes to do it.

Thus, the breakdown in amount of time spent with characters is easy:

A - 40%, B - 30%, C - 15%, D - 10%, E - 5%

It's a bit less common to find a story with a lot of main characters that are all equal in their main character-ness. They may all impact the world and the story, but they aren't necessarily equal in doing so.

3. If all your characters are equal, they probably all have the same objective

Now, characters all having the same objective doesn't mean they're all going through the same arc. Objective may just be 'save the world from evil', but character A wants to save it for their family, character B wants to save it to have some control over it, character C wants to save it to promote their podcast, etc. etc. Their goals (or what they want out of achieving the objective) will be different, but they can band together to accomplish the same objective.

This keeps your astrophysicist and your ballerina together. Your characters' stories have meaning to each other, and a point to being put in the same novel.

Good luck!

[jessread-s]

✩🦄❤️Review:

These books have quickly become comfort reads of mine!

“Apprentice to the Villain” follows Evie Sage as she becomes her outrageously handsome evil overlord’s apprentice to save both him and the Kingdom of Rennedawn’s magic.

Evie and Trystan made me giddy with joy! Their romantic tension heightens as the two are put in situations they would only fantasize about. I was left feeling satisfied and not (in a good way because I don’t want this series to end!) as they inched closer towards coupledom. While the slow burn is truly infuriating, there is nothing I would not endure for them.

I really appreciate how Maehrer leans into the found family element with this book. The added points-of-view shed light on the backstories of characters new and old. Learning more about what Evie went through as a child and the sacrifices she had to make informed my understanding of her character and the growth she underwent in this story. She steps out of her comfort zone and learns new skills to embrace her new role as Trystan’s apprentice while holding on to her kind, gentle, and optimistic personality. I think that is what I love most about Evie—she never loses sight of what is important to her, her softness included!

This series is so ridiculously fun and I cannot wait to get my hands on book 3!

Cross-posted to: Instagram | Amazon | Goodreads | StoryGraph

[occasionallyprosie]

Here's a snippet from that child fic...

He latched onto Wind. Something about him--it wasn’t even that he was the Hero of Winds--was just… more familiar than anyone else. It was like... like they were brothers in their cores, like he had taken every step of his life with him, like their hearts and minds aligned, like they shared stories and lives. It was like they'd always known each other. It was hard to explain, how his spirit sang in familiarity to Wind's, but it was something he couldn’t help but latch onto.

Take it as you will

[antipinkkitten]

I’m so close to the end of my fic and I had to change comments to “Registered Users only” due to some of the feedback. I’m not saying I can’t handle negative feedback, because I definitely can… but I find the fandom is a bit too aggressive on some things and it was distracting me from finishing my planned story.

I get it, a love triangle trope with two different ships doesn’t meet everyone’s criteria. That’s why I’m writing it. I hope others enjoy it once it’s done, but it definitely got taxing after a bit.

[iggyalfi2319]

Growing Thoughts

-

I can't art but I still I wanted to try to cross two POVs during a growth scene.

Both Jayden's and Daniel's POV a few minutes before the "Giant Growth"

-

I don't know what's up with Daniel lately...

I feel like something is off as recently...

For some reasons, he looks different...

I don't feel like myself...

Should I be concerned?

I don't want to worry Jayden, though...

I hate feeling helplessly small and young. I want to help him.

He's so small and young. I don't want to burden him.

No to mention it feels like Daniel keeps growing taller every time I look at him.

Did Jayden get smaller recently?

Cranning my head higher and higher to look at him.

Lowering further down my head to look at him.

Why does it feel like the distance between us keeps growing...

He's getting farther away...

He looks so big...

He is so small...

I'm scared...

He must be scared...

...of being unable to keep up with him...

...of me hurting him...

-

♥️ Like

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[weiying-lanzhan-fics]

transmuter by WithLoweredVoices

What a beautiful story in a grandiose and different setting. I enjoyed everything about it - the pain and anguish as well as the hope and mending.

Wonderful prose and characters ❤️❤️❤️❤️

(Therapeutic for me!)

Quotes:

Wei Ying stares at the boy now standing awkwardly in the middle of the café.  It’s like looking through time into some kind of twisted mirror.

The kid holds his hands like he doesn’t know what to do with them – like he’s been deposited within a new set of limbs and has yet to figure out how to use them. He’s sixteen at most, though he looks to be younger. He’s skinny and horribly pale, pale as milk, his lips the same ghastly color as his face. There is eyeliner smeared over his eyes with an unsteady hand, but it isn’t enough to hide the crimson shade of his eyelids.

The boy might be the youngest necromancer Wei Ying’s ever seen.

He’s just a baby – he’s not even full grown yet, not even a single hint of stubble at his face. There’s a chance he might never grow beyond this slender, small frame. You can only dip your fingers into death so many times before it starts to dip its fingers into you – and Wei Ying can smell the death on this boy.

Wei Ying lets out a long, shaky breath. He sets his mocha down and wraps the fingers of his right hand over his left wrist – a grounding trick he learned from his therapist.

‘Hiya,’ says Wei Ying brightly. ‘Welcome to Yiling Gardens. What can I get you?’

————

‘Wei Ying,’ says Lan Zhan. ‘I do not have to stay.’

He lifts a hand towards Wei Ying, then hesitates. He closes his hand into a fist, flexes it once, and then folds his fist behind his back. The hem shifts, revealing the sword hanging low from his belt.

Wei Ying’s traitorous brain feeds him a reel of memories: Lan Zhan, angrily raining a flurry of blows down upon Wei Ying in the training ring; Lan Zhan, wiping sweat from his face as he takes a break between drills, pointedly ignoring Wei Ying’s chatter; Lan Zhan, turning with the gold medal in his hand, not quite smiling, but triumphant all the same as he seeks out Wei Ying’s face in the crowd.

Wei Ying feels something like heartbreak clutter up in his throat. He looks down at the scuff-marks on his old shoes. He thinks about mountain ranges. He thinks about a kitchen table where nobody eats with him.

He thinks about a hand on his wrist, about the drone of Sentinels pushing close and, come back to Gusu with me.

Wei Ying summons his last ounce of bravery and looks up at Lan Zhan. ‘I don’t want you to leave.’

‘Mn,’ nods Lan Zhan. ‘I will not.’ His gaze flashes up towards the menu on the chalkboard. ‘I would like a matcha latte please. With soy milk. It is not a seasonal special,’ he adds, with an apologetic tilt of his head that is Lan Zhan’s equivalent of a shrug.

‘Okay,’ says Wei Ying.

He taps matcha powder into a mug and measures hot water into it with a few presses of a button on the coffee machine. I should say sorry, he thinks. He pulls the carton of soy milk out of the fridge and pours it into a cold pitcher. I should ask him how he’s been, he thinks. He froths the milk and taps out the bubbles. I should thank him for Burial Mounds, he thinks. He pours milk into the mug, forming a delicate fern leaf at the top.

‘Soy matcha latte,’ says Wei Ying as he hands the drink over, instead of sorry or are you well or thank you for not handing me over to Inquisition thirteen years ago.

Lan Zhan cups the mug in one long-fingered hand, while he keeps the other clasped behind his back. ‘Thank you,’ he says, and then, with a strange, wondering tone: ‘You used my favorite brand of soy milk.’

Wei Ying hates his magpie tendencies. It’s embarrassing, the way he collects facets of the people he loves, the people who once loved him, as though they could ever prevent people from leaving him.

Not Rated, 113k

Summary:

Wei Ying gave up necromancy years ago. He should be done with hauntings, but here in his café, here in this quiet city at the edge of the world, there stands a ghost dressed in mourning white with eyes like warm honey at the bottom of the pot.

(The one where it's a café AU - only it's not.)

[shadowphoenixrider]

All Maid Up

(Who knew that this would all result from Gambit losing a bet? Shadow discovers something new about the Cajun, the Cajun discovers something new about her, and would you believe it all involves a French maid dress?) (Look I saw a silly comic panel, it gave me an idea and it has been living in my head rent-free until I finally wrote it out. Also shout-out to @driftinglightofthewoods for inspiring me to extend this. And also just in generally for joining me in our X-Men shenanigans. Go read her stuff too, it's great.)

"Gambit," Shadow exclaimed with exasperation, "what are you doing?"

The Cajun rolled over to face her, grinning widely as he shot her an alluring look. He was clad in an infamous short, knee-length black dress with a white petticoat and half-apron and sheer black stockings that went all the way up his shapely muscled legs.

"Ah, mon amie!" He cried brightly. "Gambit is, how ya say, de sexy French maid, non?"

Laughter bubbled out of Shadow as he wiggled his eyebrows, shaking her head as she stepped over to the bed he was sprawled enticingly on.

"So I see." Shadow let her eyes wander over him, and Gambit basked under her gaze like a smug cat. "What brought this on?"

"Lost a bet." He explained, dark eyes watching her intently. She arched an eyebrow.

"Gambit? Lose a bet? Is it getting cold in Hell?"

It was his turn to chuckle richly.

"Don' mind losin' dis one." He flattened the skirts down as she approached his feet. "Shadow!"

"What?" She chuckled at his scandalised tone.

"Be rude to look up a man's skirt!" He admonished her, a playful sparkle in his eyes.

"A scoundrel like you is worried about proprietary now?" Laughed Shadow, climbing onto bed next to him. "Mister 'Let's fuck in the locker room where anyone could walk in' LeBeau?"

"Didn' hear ya complainin', Miss 'Let's finish up in de showers'." Was his quick retort.

"Neither were you when I had your cock in my mouth." She grinned triumphantly when she saw his eyes flash - their sparring was getting to him in all the right ways. She blinked slowly, deciding to change tack. "Anyway, where'd you get this stuff? Do you have some like 'disguises to go' stashed away somewhere?"

"Nothin' as elaborate as dis, chère." He replied, seemingly content to follow her train of thought. "Disguises are better subtle, in Gambit's experience." Mischief sparkled in his eyes. "As for where? Well, Gambit's gotta have his secrets, chère."

"Aw, c'mon!" She cried. "This is good quality too, where did you get them?" Shadow pouted as he shook his head at her. "Damnit."

An idea suddenly occurred to her, and she turned her head away, feigning disappointment. "Oh, well...I did have some ideas about spicing up our nights together, but I guess I'll have to give up on them without details about where to get the uniforms..." She said, sighing dramatically.

Gambit arched an eyebrow.

"Nice try, petite canaille." He purred, flashing her a wry smirk. "But Gambit not one for uniforms." He winked.

"Oh that's a lie and you know it!" She cried, prodding his chest as he barked out a laugh. "This coming from the guy who can barely keep his hands off me when I'm in my suit!"

"Now dat's different!" Gambit insisted. "Dat suit not a uniform!"

"Yes it is! It's our uniform! The X-Men uniform!"

"Shadow, none of us wear de same thin'. An' de backup suit don' count!"

She snorted, folding her arms.

"You are the worst."

"Ahh, mon ombre," the Cajun crooned, sliding his arm around her narrow waist. "You love it really. Dese little dances of ours..."

He fluttered his eyelashes at her, his mutant eyes brimming with 'innocence'. Shadow couldn't resist the smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she held his gaze, especially when he leaned in, grinning. She pushed his face away, blushing.

"Twat." She sighed, her smile broadening as he laughed. "Yeah, I do. Silver tongued devil."

"Oh, and you love dat tongue, don'tcha...?" And in a second, all pretence was dropped. Gambit had returned to his sultry manner, slowly and seductively licking his lips. Shadow rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah." A brief silence settled over them. "So... now what?"

Gambit frowned.

"Gotta admit, mon amie...Didn' think any further den dis."

"So did it essentially go: 'get maid outfit, surprise Shadow, question mark, profit'?" She asked curiously.

"Yeah, kinda." He chuckled weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess you like it?" He asked. Shadow smiled, running her hand delicately over his skirt.

"I do. It's very pretty, and you fill it out really well." She chuckled. "I think you look better in a dress than I do!"

"Never seen ya in a dress." Gambit commented, propping his head up on his hand. "Not for you?"

"Nah. Been a tomboy ever since I could demand to be." She replied, pulling her knees up to hug. "Always had a bit of an issue with feminine things, honestly. Took me a while and the help of my friends to sorta...become comfortable being me." She rested her chin on her knees, Gambit watching intently. "I kinda envy you, you know."

One of his thick dark eyebrows quirked up.

"You do?"

"Yeah," she said softly, nodding. "You are so comfortable in your skin. Nothing seems to faze you." Shadow smiled. "Wish I could have your confidence."

"Ya have ya own confidence, chère." Gambit said, sitting up and shifting closer to her. "Jus' 'cos yours be quieter den Gambit's don' mean it ain't there."

"How'd you mean?" She asked. He smiled softly.

"Ya know who you are, Shadow," he said. "You're honest with yourself, never try'n be somethin' you're not. Dere be no lies with you." He brushed a lock of hair from her face. "What ya see be what ya get."

Shadow felt a blush heat her face, smiling shyly.

"Thank you. You're...very kind." She mumbled. Gambit leaned forwards, gently pressing his forehead against her's.

"Jus' tellin' it how it is, petite," he said softly, pressing a kiss to her lips.

They lingered in the casual give and take, enjoying the peaceful moment. At least, until Gambit's hands began to wander below Shadow's waist, curling around her backside.

"Bored already?" She asked, unable to resist a giggle. He smirked back, pulling her closer.

"Never bored with you, mon ombre." He purred, nuzzling into her neck, feathering kisses along her pulse line. She sank her fingers into his hair, gently rubbing her fingertips against his scalp, smiling at soft sigh it elicited.

"Gambit..."

"Jus' five minutes, chère..." He murmured. "Jus' give Gambit five minutes..."

Shadow sighed, a smile growing over her lips. I cannot resist this Cajun, can I?

"Okay. Just five minutes." She let him push her gently back onto the bed, and then Shadow didn't really think any more.

---

"So run me through this plan again, Slim." Wolverine spoke, folding his arms. Gambit listened in, one eye on the stairs, and the other on the new deck of cards he was breaking in between his fingers.

"One team is infiltrating the baron's mansion with the help of a mole pretending to be one of the maid staff. They will disable security and locate records for the trafficking operation." Cyclops explained. "The second team is on standby to help break-out any mutants trapped in the ring, and get them to safety. As well as back-up the mole in case something goes wrong."

"Who's the mole?" Wolverine asked.

"Shadow volunteered to be the mole for this mission." Said Cyclops matter-of-factly.

"Merde!" Gambit's finger slipped, the cards spilling out of his hands onto the ground.

"Of course that would get your attention, Gumbo." Wolverine leered at him as he collected them up. Gambit shot a glare back at him.

"Ya sure dis a good idea, Cyclops?" He asked, straightening back up. "Sure, this rich guy got some weird tastes an' all, but I dunno if she be able to carry dis off so easy."

"First time I ever heard a guy not chompin' at the bit 'bout his gal dressin' up pretty for him." Rogue commented with a smirk. "Ya feelin' alright, Remy?"

"I'm serious!" He retorted. "I jus' think-"

"Um, am I interrupting anything?" Shadow's voice silenced any further discussion, all eyes snapping to her.

She stood awkwardly in the middle of stairs, neatly dressed in the traditional black maid dress with the white apron and white stockings. It was certainly a pretty outfit on an equally pretty woman. And yet...

"You look...good!" Cyclops commented. The others murmured in uncertain agreement.

The picture was wrong, and even their uptight leader sensed it. The longer Gambit looked at her, the worst it got, and his skin crawled uncomfortably. He met her gaze, and whilst her lips curled up into a smile, he didn't see a single spark in her blue eyes. He might not have Shadow's power to hear someone's body crying out in pain, but he could certainly hear hers crying out in sheer terror.

"Nope, non." Gambit declared, shaking his head. "Dis ain't gonna work, mon amie. Ya look so uncomfortable." Pocketing his cards, he strode up the stairs two at a time before anyone could protest. "Go put ya suit back on, chère." A relieved smile spread across her face, and he swore she sighed.

"Wait, Gambit!" Cyclops interjected as Shadow scampered up the stairs. "What about-"

"I be your mole, mes amis!" The Cajun yelled back down to them as he turned on his heel, following in Shadow's wake. "Let Ol' Gambit show you how it's done."

---

"I can't believe that worked." Cyclops commented, casting his gaze over his team and the handful of mutants they'd rescued from the dark operation in the belly of a wealthy baron's fancy mansion house, to whom mutant lives were nothing but currency. Shadow finished the final hand-over to the paramedics and made her way over to their man (or should that be 'maid'?) of the hour.

Even now, Gambit looked...Cyclops would have put money on the Cajun mutant looking passable as a maid, but he didn't expect him to look stunning. Witnessing Gambit's normally infuriatingly flirty manner become coquettish, twirling his red-brown hair coyly around his fingers as the baron had taken particular interest in his new mutant servant had been a sight to see. Even more so when he'd invited Remy straight into the heart of his operations - just in time for him to be put down for the count by a charged card stashed in Remy's tights.

Cyclops shook his head. He hated when Gambit was right; the Cajun would never let him hear the end of this.

"Everything okay?" Shadow asked, Gambit glancing up from inspecting something under his skirt.

"It fine chère, jus' thought Gambit got a ladder in his tights afta dat brawl." He flashed her a smile, going back to his task. "Cost more den ya think for a good pair dat fits Gambit."

"'Costs'?" Shadow grinned with amusement, folding her arms. "I didn't know the great Remy LeBeau pays for things!"

He gave her a Look, arching an eyebrow at her.

"Gambit don't steal everythin', chère. An' not from dose jus' try'n earn a livin'."

Shadow's lips twitched, resisting the urge to blurt something out. Instead, her eyes roved over him.

"Didn't ever think I'd see that dress again, especially like this," she said, before she smiled. "Thank you, by the way."

He looked up.

"What for?"

"For taking my place." She folded her arms tighter around herself, staring at her boots. "You were right. It wouldn't've worked with me. I was so nervous and uncomfortable."

"Thought so." Gambit said kindly, straightening up to look at her properly. "Didn' like seeing ya like dat. Ya very brave to volunteer, but..." He shook his head, face falling. "Better dat you were wit Cyclop's team."

"Yeah." Shadow nodded. "I wanted to help more, though, be more than just 'the medic'. And..." She hesitated, glancing away for a moment and wetting her lips. "I thought you'd like it."

Gambit blinked at her.

"You...you thought dat Gambit..." He trailed off, brows furrowing in thought as he looked her over. "Non. Mighta been de first time I got t' see ya in a dress, but..." He shook his head. "I get why ya don't wear 'em. Dey ain't you." He reached out, placing a hand on hers. "N-Not dat you don't look pretty in it, o' course."

A smile tugged at the corner of Shadow's mouth.

"It's fine, Gambit. You don't have to reassure me or anything." She opened her mouth to say more, then thought better of it, curling her hand around his. "You look really good in this."

"Thank you, chère." Gambit smiled warmly, a sparkle in his eyes. "Pretty gorgeous yaself."

"Alright you two lovebirds, it's time to head back!" Wolverine's gruff voice startled them apart.

"Twat." Shadow cursed, causing Gambit bark out a laugh. "But he's right. Best we get back so you can change into something more comfortable."

"Oh contraire mon amie, Gambit had some...other ideas." The Cajun flashed her a dark, devious grin as his voice sunk into an enticing low purr.

Shadow shook her head, unable to wipe the smile off her face.

"Of course you do..."

[physalian]

Do you have any tips for writing a book with 8 POV's?

I found the book! I mentioned “Schooled” in my POVS post and how hard it was to locate by its generic-ass title. But I found it. This book has like, 1 narrator per chapter. It’s a kid’s book so it’s very lighthearted and doesn’t deal with multiple arcs. I haven’t read it in like, 16 years, so my memory about the actual plot and narrator count is super fuzzy, but this is a book with many narrators.

How well you juggle your narrator count depends less on the number of narrators, and, I think, the number of arcs readers are expected to follow. You can have 8 narrators, but only 3 main arcs, and those 8 split into three groups. The more arcs you have, the longer your book will get, the harder it will be to stick the landing and keep all eight plot lines both engaging, well-paced, and hitting the right beats when they’re supposed to logistically within the book.

The most I’ve ever had is 7 narrators, 5 of them with their own multi-book arcs. The other 2 only had a combined 5 POVS across the whole book. I wouldn’t try to juggle more than 4 arcs within a single novel of, say 100k words. That’s, in essence, 4 mini-stories you have to write to completion without any of them overshadowing each other or one dragging as the weak link. In those 4, you can have any combination of narrators you want. 8, 10, 15, etc.

So long as the focus of your Nth narrator count isn’t too scattered, I don’t see any issue with 8 POVS. You will, though, suffer from your core characters not having as much “screen time” the more you split the book’s attention from them. If this is a book like a comedy, or like a “The Office” style work where your POVS are really just commentary on the larger narrative, then, yeah, go ham with your POV count.

TL;DR: It's not the POV count, it's the arc count that matters.

Hope this helps!

[personasdestinyy]

Sorrowful Love | Ch#5 | JJK

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; All he desires is vengeance.

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: thriller, angst, love at first sight, au! sexting

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook × Sena oc!

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: This story contains explicit language, graphic violence(murders, blood etc), and other mature content, If you are easily affected by such themes, it might be best to avoid reading it.

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.5k+

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭⇢

Jungkook's Pov:

I penned down the message, my very first thread, to my first prey, and I can't help but feel a surge of excitement coursing through my veins. This moment has been a long time coming, a culmination of fifteen years of anticipation.

From my vantage point in the corner of the club, I fix my gaze upon him with a burning fury in my eyes. He's blissfully unaware, reveling in the company of those mindless sluts. He won't be able to savor these moments again, because this is the last time he will ever experience such joy. Here I am, eagerly waiting for the opportune moment when the whore beside me will remove her leg from my thigh. Her repulsive gummy scent makes me cringe, but I must endure the presence of these despicable people in order to witness the sheer delight on his face once he receives my message.

Finally ,she retracts her leg, and a frown creases her brows.

'shitty'

Clearly, my lack of attention has displeased her. But that's not my problem. She rises from the couch, stomping her feet on the ground in a silent plea for my attention, and thankfully, she leaves. Yet, being the man that I am, I once again choose to ignore her.

My fingers hovered over the 'send' button, With a sense of satisfaction and anticipation, I press the 'send' button, the message was on its way. A small smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I leaned back on the couch, crossing one leg over the other. Just as i settle on the couch, he pulled out his phone, his expression mirrored the one I had hoped for. His face tensed as he read the message, his eyes scanning the room as if searching for me.

'Never. You can never find me.'

Don't know why but suddenly anger surged through me, my hands clenching into fists so tight that my knuckles turned white, my blood rushing to my ears in a violent surge, and my breathing quickened. I knew I had to leave before things escalated. I settled the bill with the bartender, shooting one last fiery glance at him before heading for the door. His head was bowed, lost in his thoughts.

'kill him'

The thought flashed through my mind, The desire to take his life now and here consumes me, my heart yearns to fulfill this violent urge.. but I knew I had to bide my time. Revenge is a dish best served cold, and I am determined to make him pay.

The word 'Revenge' has consumed my thoughts completely, leaving no room for anything else.

As I make my exit in silence, leaving him in the sea of unease, I vowed to exact my vengeance in the most excruciating way possible. This time, they would know the true meaning of fear.

Her expression is a mix of dread, fear, and all other synonyms one could associate with being scared. She pleads for me to go away, tears cascading down her troubled face, making my nostrils flare with annoyance. God, women like her drive me crazy; it's why I can't stand them.

But, she was different. Despite her incessant chatter on the phone, she somehow managed to bring a smile to my face.

'fuck'

I can't dwell on these memories now. I need to stay focused on the task at hand and have to deal with the fucker who seems to have forgotten my warning, off enjoying himself with those whores.

As I stand up from the chair, she immediately senses my presence and her body starts trembling uncontrollably. The sound of my heavy black boots thudding against the floor fills the room, almost echoing her fear. I am completely clad in black, from head to toe, which only adds to the aura of darkness and intensity that surrounds me. With black leather pants hugging my legs, a full sleeve shirt and a sleek leather jacket covering my torso, black leather gloves covering my hands, a black cap crowning my head, and a black mask concealing my face, I become an embodiment of the shadows. Only my eyes are visible, but they reveal nothing except pure rage.

Stepping closer towards her, she becomes rigid, her body freezing in fear. Her voice quivers as she pleads, "Please, just leave" Her desperation hangs heavily in the air.

I raise my hand and she immediately shuts her eyes tightly, as if anticipating a blow. But I have no intention of hitting her, unless she decides to make a scene. Placing a finger to my lips, hidden behind the mask.

"Shhh," I hush, leaning in slightly. The next moments are crucial, and any sudden movement or sound from her could trigger an explosive reaction from me.

I was not like this, but the burning desire for revenge has consumed me to the point where all other emotions have faded away. I am like an empty vessel, engulfed in darkness.

She timidly opens her teary eyes, and I remove my finger from my lips.

"I have to make a call, so don't you dare to scream, If you scream, I'll make sure you regret it," I caution her, the threat evident in my gaze. Her body trembles even more than before, and I step back, reaching for my phone in the jacket pocket as I make my way to the door frame.

I dialed his number, eagerly waiting for him to pick up. After a few rings, he finally answered. As I brought the phone to my ear to listen to his voice, the woman behind me let out a loud scream.

'fucking shitty'

I glared at her, my eyes filled with anger. She quickly closed her mouth and burst into tears once again.

"What do you want, you bastard! Leave my wife alone, you asshole!" he shouted angrily on the other end of the line. The urge to silence both the husband and the wife by cutting out their tongues crept into my mind.

I cleared my throat and spoke in a calm, yet determined tone, "First of all, stop your motherfucking yelling, it won't help. Second, I need you to come home immediately. And third, if you bring anyone else with you, I will make sure your wife suffers a painful fate right in front of you. So, be smart and come alone in just 10 minutes,"

After giving him some specific instructions, I abruptly ended the call, leaving him to ponder my words in silence.

From my vantage point at the window, I observed his every move, how he maneuvered the car into the parking lot, how he swiftly snatch a gun from the dashboard before stepping out of the vehicle. The dimly lit surroundings failed to conceal the fear etched on his face, and I could almost feel the beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

When I entered the house, I intentionally left the door ajar to make a dramatic entrance. I scattered furniture and belongings to heighten the suspense, and it seemed to have worked as I could sense his frantic footsteps echoing through the ground floor as he checked every door, desperately searching for any sign of his wife.

A mischievous chuckle escaped my lips. I hadn't anticipated finding pleasure in these twisted games, and I'm surprised by the unexpected enjoyment I derived from these sinister acts. Revenge had been my initial motive, but the sheer satisfaction of instilling fear in my target is an unexpected bonus. As I approached the door, she let out another piercing scream. It was clear that she too sensed the presence of an individual.

'fucking fuck'

My anger intensifying as I turn around and walk toward her with heavy step. And then, without hesitation, I delivered a forceful slap across her face, rendering her unconscious. Her head hung low, a testament to the power I now wielded. I swiftly held ber face in my hand and silenced her mouth with a cloth, even though it served no practical purpose now.

After approximately 10 seconds, he sprinted towards the room, completely disregarding my presence. His sole focus was on reaching his wife, and the expression on his face mirrored the exact emotions I experienced when I was just a child. Without hesitation, he dropped both the gun and phone from his trembling hands as he knelt before her, gently cradling her face in his palms.

"Honey, please, wake up. Please wake up," he pleaded with a mixture of worry, rage, and terror evident in his voice. Desperation laced every word as he attempted to rouse his unconscious wife.

As he tenderly shook her shoulders, he anxiously inquired, "Who the fuck…?" His question remained unfinished as I swiftly swung a heavy bat, connecting with his head. The impact rendered him unconscious before he even had a chance to face the person responsible for the blow, me. The mere sound of his voice had become unbearable, piercing my ears like arrows and causing them to bleed.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally began to regain consciousness.

During his unconscious state, I had taken advantage of the situation and tied him to a chair, and shut his mouth with tape, all for my own advantage, of course.

To add a little surprise, I had also switched off the lights, plunging the room into darkness.

As he struggled to open his eyes, it took him what seemed like a hundred attempts before he finally succeeded.

'Thank fucking God'

Taking a moment to assess his surroundings, he soon realized that his wife was tied up in a chair right beside him.

'Ah, the game is about to begin.'

From the door frame, I watched the scene unfold, feeling bad for them that made me want to cry my heart out for their beautiful love story. But I remained hidden in the darkness, so he couldn't spot me.

He desperately tried to free himself, and I couldn't help but chuckle at his futile attempts. How hypocritical of him to believe he could escape my carefully laid trap. After a few failed tries, he finally came to a halt and turned his tear-filled eyes towards his wife. Well, I suppose it's my turn now.

With a flick of a switch, I turned on the lights, causing the room to flood with brightness. The sudden change made him instinctively shut his eyes, momentarily blinded by the illumination.

When he finally opens his eyes, they immediately lock onto me. I can see the confusion and fear in his gaze as he takes in my appearance. His body tenses up, but he still tries to shout through the tape covering his mouth. Suppressing a wave of laughter, I chuckle at his futile attempt, feeling a mix of amusement and pity for him.

With my gloved hands tucked away inside the pockets of my leather jacket, I walk purposefully towards him. Coming to a halt right in front of him, I lean down, ensuring my face is at the same level as his.

"All right, I'll remove the tape from your fucking mouth, but please don't yell. My ears are incredibly sensitive", I speak directly to him, in a low, commanding tone and making sure my words penetrate his consciousness. The intensity of my voice resonates from deep within my chest, leaving no room for doubt or disobedience.

Taking a step back, I straighten up. With a swift motion, I rip the tape from his mouth, causing him to hiss in pain. Despite witnessing his discomfort, I remain unaffected, my eyes filled with a mix of anger and determination.

"Why have you taken us hostage? What is it that you want from us, motherfucker?" he barks, his final words dripping with anger and it was hard not to feel myself getting worked up as well. These two idiots really dared to raise their voices at me.

In that split second, without thinking twice, I swung my fist and delivered a powerful blow to his jaw. The impact was satisfying, but I felt the sting reverberate through my hand. Gritting my teeth, I flexed my fingers and massaged the soreness away with my other hand.

"Well, well, well, looks like you need a reminder to keep that mouth shut," I sneered at him, my anger simmering beneath the surface. "I warned you not to yell, but clearly, you didn't listen."

Well if this fool wanted a reason for their predicament, they were about to get one. With a theatrical touch, I placed my palm over my chin, pretending to ponder his question.

"Alright, Mr. Lee," I spoke slowly, my voice dripping with a mix of amusement and menace. "If you really want to know the reason, you're going to have to spill about Kim's family."

However, to my surprise, he bursts into laughter, causing my gaze to snap towards him with lightning speed.

"You think I'm foolish enough to tell you about them to the likes of you?" His words dripped with defiance, his tone unwavering.

"You've made a grave mistake, you moron. You've kidnapped the wrong person, and I will never, ever tell you a damn thing about them."

His statement ignited a fiery rage within me. How dare he mock me? How dare he think he had the upper hand? My anger intensified, my blood beginning to boil. This fool had no idea who he's dealing with, and he's about to learn a painful lesson.

"Alright, it seems like you're implying that you want her dead," I commented, gesturing towards his wife.

Without hesitation, he exploded in fury, bellowing, "You despicable bastard, just kill me and spare her!"

However, this time, I opted to just stand there calmly, my hands comfortably tucked inside the pockets of my sleek leather jacket. In that instant, I fixated my gaze on his wife, knowing that it was time for her demise.

Moments passed before Mr. Lee finally mumbled with his head lowered, "What do you need to know about them?"

'Bingo'

A small smirk playing at the corner of my lips. This was the moment I had been waiting for.

"Well, spill the beans on his family first, and then let's dive into his underground business," I replied, still fixated on his wife.

"He has a son and a daughter," Mr. Lee responded, causing me to swiftly turn my head towards him, my curiosity piqued.

"And a daughter too?" I exclaimed, genuinely surprised by the revelation of Kim's hidden secret.

"Where is she now?" I couldn't help but throw in the question, my curiosity overpowering my desire to remain silent. Unfortunately, he remained tight-lipped, leaving my query unanswered.

Glancing over at him, I catch sight of his downcast head. Curiosity piqued, I lower myself to the ground, positioning myself directly in front of him to get a better look at his face. And that's when I spot it—a solitary tear, glistening on his cheek. It's a peculiar sight, one that almost tempts a chuckle from me. But alas, the gravity of the situation prevents any laughter from escaping my lips.

"Oh, Mr. Lee, why the tears?" I inquire, my voice laced with a hint of mischief.

"I simply asked about his daughter. If you're unwilling to share, then I'm afraid I'll have no choice but to take matters into my own hands and kill your wife," I declare, my tone still gentle despite the menacing words, all while remaining on my knees.

"Please, spare her life. I don't understand why you're doing this. If you must take a life, take mine instead." His voice trembles as he pleads.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," I click my tongue disapprovingly.

"I had you pegged as a brave soul, but it seems you're nothing more than a timid mouse. It's a pity, really," I remark, rising to my feet.

"But you should know, even if you were to beg me now, I would still carry out my plan. First, I'll make you witness the demise of your wife, and then, only then, I will end your life," I state matter-of-factly as I make my way towards a nearby table adorned with a mysterious bag.

Opening the bag, I unzipped it and carefully extracted the knife, placing it meticulously on the table. Just as I did so, he erupted into screams of desperation and fury, his voice laced with a chilling warning. "Just kill me, don't you dare to touch her. I'll kill you if you touch her!"

Ignoring his frantic outbursts, the knife and tape practically begged to be in my grasp, so I calmly picked up the knife and tape. With a steady and purposeful stride, I approached his wife, positioning myself just behind her chair.

With a maddening calmness in my voice, I addressed him. "Mr. Lee, do you recall the time you callously took the life of a woman in front of her own child?"

The desire to slash her throat, and then his, coursed through my veins, creating an insatiable itch within me.

His expression twisted in confusion, he stammered out a response. "What… what do you mean? I don't understand anything," he managed to utter through his tearful pleas.

Smirking slightly, I seized a fistful of his wife's hair, exerting enough force to communicate my utter dominance. His threats and pleas fell upon deaf ears.

"Fucker, take your hands away from her! I swear I'll kill you!" he shouted, desperately clinging to a fading hope of escape through intimidation.

"Listen to me, I don't care who you think you are. You can do whatever you want to me, but spare her. She's innocent in all of this," he pleaded after a moment, his eyes pleading for mercy as I held her captive.

Ignoring his pleas, memories of my own past suffering flooded my mind. The image of my parents begging for their lives flashed before me, fueling my rage. With a swift motion, I pressed the knife against her throat and slit her throat in an instant.

In an instant, blood gushed from her throat, drenching everything in its path. She began to tremble uncontrollably from the sheer amount of blood she was losing. The floor, the chair, her clothes - all stained crimson with her life force. After what seemed like an eternity, the trembling eventually ceased. She was no longer among the living.

His eyes remained wide open, still in shock from the gruesome sight before him. The scene unfolding in front of his eyes left him utterly speechless. His happiness, like mine, seemed to vanish into thin air.

"Why? Why did you do this?" The words ripped through the air as he shouted in agony, followed by the piercing sound of his weeping. He moved in the chair, desperately trying to free himself from the pain.

I walked purposefully towards him, standing directly in front of his chair. With a firm grip, I grabbed his hair and forced him to look me in the eyes. My blood boiled with a desire for revenge, the name etched in my mind like a curse. The sense of accomplishment surged through me, yet a thrill still lingered in the air.

I watched as he struggled against the restraints, his eyes burning with a mixture of rage and fear. The tears streaming down his face mingled with the bloodshot redness, a clear indication of the intense emotions bubbling within him. Despite his desperate attempts to break free, I could see the murderous intent in his eyes, but he was powerless to act on it.

I released his hair and used my teeth to cut through the tape binding his hands. As I tried to muffle his cries by covering his mouth with tape, he defiantly spat on my gloved hand.

"Fuck, it's suck", cursing under my breath, I wiped my hand on his suit before firmly gripping his face with my right hand and forcefully securing the tape over his mouth.

Stepping back from the chair, I walked toward the table and picked up the knife from the table. The blade was stained with the blood of his wife, a grim reminder of the gruesome act I had committed. I started cleaning the knife on the table, preparing myself for the next death.

"I pity you, Mr. Lee, but you left me with no choice. You refuse to cooperate, so I must ensure my peace of mind by silencing you as well. Before your time is up, think back to the innocent woman you callously murdered in front of her child. Reflect on your actions," I said, wiping the knife blade with a thick fabric as I gazed into his widened eyes. He tried to speak, but the tape over his mouth rendered him speechless.

His facial expression revealed his thoughts, indicating that he remembers. However, I simply didn't have the patience to listen to his voice again. I casually strolled up behind his chair, placed the knife against his neck, and let out a small chuckle before swiftly slicing his throat, much like I did to his wife. The sight of his blood made me queasy, causing me to take a step back.

As I stood there, surrounded by the aftermath of my actions, I couldn't help but feel a sense of liberation. I knew that this path was dangerous and morally questionable, but in that moment, I didn't care.

Despite that, I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that I had successfully taken down my first target.

© 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲𝐲 (𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐝)

[solemnswearings]

It is my GRAND pleasure to say, ch7 of "Wings of Wax and Feathers" (my marauders at camp half-blood au) is FINALLY updated!!

I know it's a month overdue, but after sitting down with my little free time cradled in the palm of my hand, I managed to finish it and GET IT OUUUUT!!! I'm genuinely so excited.

[jessread-s]

✩🕯️📜Series Review:

Core concepts

⋆ The Atlas Six - Physics

⋆ The Atlas Paradox - Psychology

⋆ The Atlas Complex - Philosophy

“The Atlas” series is so much more than dark academia or romance. This series studies what happens to human beings when they are promised access to infinite knowledge and power. It is about how quickly we turn on each other and abandon our own morals to gain. said knowledge and power. Each installment blew me away as I watched Blake’s six protagonists gradually find and/or destroy themselves. My mind was continuously expanded by her prose and it made me question my every decision. It’s a soul crushing read, but perhaps also a necessary one.

Cross-posted to: Instagram | Amazon | Goodreads | StoryGraph

@torpublishinggroup @olivieblake

[kimium]

Chapters: 3/7 Summary:

God AU. Multiple/Switching POVs.

"Every thing has to have an origin story. Even gods."

An AU where all the housewardens are gods and require an origin story. (In where the answer to "How to Become A God" is "Get Possessed".)

~

Hello everyone! Welcome to my next multi-chaptered fic where I’ve written three chapters already! Wow! Isn’t that amazing? Truth be told I was going to post all the perspectives at once in one large chapter, but it would have been so long. So, I split it up.

Anyways, I hope you like this fic. I had fun writing it. Though, as a side note I have warnings per chapter if necessary so do read my author’s notes/tags please! Your health as always is up to you!!!

I’m excited to write the other parts so if you like this story I hope you stick around for me to finish all the chapters for the housewardens!!!

[swaps55]

Swaps! Master of povs. Any advice on writing multiple pov-fics? I'm working on a multi chapter fic that would thrive if it was written in multi povs, alas, that's hard and I don't know where to start. Any thoughts about the process, or any chance you have already answered such an ask before and can link me that? (as always: love your writing. It's gold. Thank you for letting us be part of your journey.)

Oh, yesssssss, I live for multiple POVs! Thank you for the kind words!

Now, keep in mind, I wheel and deal in multiple POVs. For me there is no such thing as too many, which I am sure a lot of others would disagree with, and I don’t think you see it used and abused in published work the way I do it. But hey, I’m writing for free, and my fic in particular is predicated on the idea that every POV is on the table except for the main character, and I will use whatever POV I need to center the one POV I can’t have.

What a lot of sensible people will do is settle on a fixed number of POVs, say, 2-4, they’re willing to rotate through and try and distribute them somewhat equally. The Expanse series does this, for example. So one way to do it is to think about the story you want to tell and select your POV carousel based on who you think you will get the most mileage out of. If you have a story taking place in different locations simultaneously, you probably need a POV character for each. If you are looking at two different sides to the same story, you probably need POVs that are antagonistic to each other.

Or you can be like me and use whatever POV seems most useful at the time, no matter how many it winds up being in the end.

With the caveat that rules are made to be broken, and I am writing this as more of a peek into what I do vs a treatise on the right and wrong ways to do it, this is a breakdown of some of the exercises I work through when choosing and working in multiple POVs.

Be thoughtful about whose POV you want and why. One of the benefits of multiple POVs is that you can get wildly different perspectives on the same series of events. Different characters see the world differently. They notice different things. They interact with their world differently. These are things you can use to your advantage, and act as tools to tell your story. One of my favorite things to do is use the POV of a character who absolutely would not clock the important takeaway I’m after in a scene, but the things they notice and observe make the reader able to clock it. What that character experiences might be very different from what the reader experiences. I’ll often ask myself, ‘what does this character give me that another character wouldn’t in this scene, and why is that important?’

Spend time sitting between the ears of your chosen POV character to get a feel for how they see the world. I usually wind up marinating in a character’s head for a while before I dive into their POV for the first time. What state of mind are they in when we meet them? What’s important to them? What are they thinking about? What drives them? How can you use those drivers to connect back to your central narrative? You'll see a character you think you already know in a whole different light if you spend the time you need to really think about these questions, how to answer them, and what that means for the story. You’ll be really glad you did it.

Treat the POV character as the hero of their own story. One of the struggles and rewards of working in multiple POVs, especially POVs who are not a main character, is that those POVs have to work on two levels: they have to further the plot/character arcs of the main characters while honoring the motivations and goals of the POV character. It can be really difficult to find the right way to line both these things up, but it’s worth doing. If you just write a POV character in service of the main character/plot, it falls flat. (This is honestly true of any character, POV character or not, but for the sake of this post we’re focused on POV.) I’ve done a lot of agonizing over how to center a POV’s character’s own narrative within a larger context. Your character doesn’t know they are in a story. They don’t know they aren’t necessarily the main character. That’s where multiple POVs can really shine: by letting that character have their own agency within a bigger narrative, you can add a lot of depth.  

Make your POV shifts clear and easy to follow. This can mean sticking to a single POV per chapter, or using a clear scene break if you’re switching within a chapter. Establish your new POV as quickly as possible so your reader doesn’t get lost or confused. I could go into a whole other discussion about head hopping and multiple POVs vs. omniscient POV, but that’s getting off track.

Have fun and be creative! If you’re wheeling and dealing like I am, sometimes POVs you never would have considered otherwise can offer you a totally new perspective. My “No Main Character POV Rule” led me to try the POV of a character I never would have otherwise tried, and it has dramatically shaped the story in some really powerful ways. Don’t be afraid to try something off the beaten path!

I hope any of that helps. I love multiple POVs. The kaleidoscope of perspectives it offers is such a fantastic tool that I really love using, and I hope you have a lot of fun with it!!!!!!

[shadowqueenjude]

With Sarah J Maas books there's a clear difference between people who read the story as Sarah wants you to read the story and those people who see past her gaslighting and read the story how it's actually written. You can tell by which characters they love/hate. Sarah should really stick to multiple POVs because she is unable to write a story from one POV without the facts becoming incredibly skewed. I think this is one of the main reasons why TOG was so much better than ACOTAR. Even CC is so much better than ACOTAR.