#narrator voice: she was lying

[joelscruff]

the next update couldn't come sooner with this teaser i'm dying here oh my goddddddddddd

here's another one 👀

[soldier--poet--queen]

Hey Everyone I Just Finished Trimax and Oh Boy Would You Believe That I'm So Completely Normal About It.

[ballpitwitch]

KEANU REEVES in 1999

[moth-tea-merchant]

Pov: you stole his glasses and he's about to beat your ass @wyldblunt 's man Glyndwr

[grapecaseschoices]

look what i can do now! should i ever learn to gif it's over for you hoes.

[dismaltouch]

closed starter ♡ @housefircs muse : jocelyn gordon

"i mean it this time... this is the last time."

[urtrickster]

haha im gonna be so normal about this bot btw.

[petermorwood]

A day or so ago, @dduane reblogged a long post - a Canadian magazine article from 1966 - about the Americanisation of Winnie the Pooh.

It's an Impressive Tirade in which the writer (Sheila H. Kieran) says what she thinks about letting Walt Disney have a free hand with a foreign Children's Classic.

There's mention of the previous Adaptation Endeavour, "Mary Poppins" (1964) but it's very brief, perhaps with an eye to limited column space - or maybe because All Was Said Already in a previous review.

There is, however, rather a lot about the English characters being given American accents, and about the inclusion of a new character, an American gopher (which, the article suggests, looked vague enough to the Kieran children - its target audience - that it might as well have been a mole or a beaver).

*****

And that reminded me of another bit of American Animalisation done by Disney, in the 1949 short "The Wind and the Willows" - though in this instance it's visual since the voices are, for the most part, suitably British.

They include Basil Rathbone as narrator, and a horse who sounds like George Formby. In some scenes the horse actually looks like Formby, so this voice may not be entirely accidental.

Badger, however, sounds like a Scotsman - the worst kind of stage Scotsman at that - rather than how I used to "hear" him as a C. Aubrey Smith-voiced crusty retired colonel.

That, however, is just personal preference.

However, Disney's Badger is not a proper British (more correctly, European) badger, Meles meles. Here's one, which though not the most amiable of beasts in reality, still manages to look fairly affable ("I say, old chap, whatever are you looking at?")

Instead he's a North American badger, Taxidea taxus, which not only has a less affable expression ("Hey, bud, you. Yeah, you. You lookin' at me? You lookin' at ME?") but, more important, different stripes.

Here's Disney's version alongside mine. The correction took about five minutes of pixel-tweaking.

Disney's animators could have got it right from the outset just as easily, because I'm pretty sure the reference library which provided costume info for Rat's tweed Norfolk jacket and britches included picture-books of natural history.

Come to that, any "The Wind in the Willows" after the unillustrated first edition would have been enough, and there must have been at least one copy lying around for story adaptation and scene-description purposes.

The first illustrated edition came out in the UK in 1931, and its artist was, at author Kenneth Graham's request, the very same E.H. Shepard who had illustrated the Pooh books just a few years previously...

...while this Arthur Rackham colour plate is from an edition published in 1940 in New York.

So those books wouldn't have been impossible for Disney to get.

The problem, however, is that if a word ("badger", for instance) is well known to mean one thing here, it may be Too Much Trouble to find out if the same word means something else there, with the result that finding out can sometimes come as rather a surprise.

Check the UK / US meaning of "suspenders" to see what I mean... ;->

[cybersunnie]

knock, knock! who's there?

RAFE CAMERON sets his sights on the baker's granddaughter.

includes fem!baker!reader / reader has a nickname ("honey") / rafe being an unreliable narrator / dialogue heavy / offensive language ("bitch", one fatphobic comment not directed at reader) / wc 984

Every Wednesday, his dad would say, “Rafe, go get the door.” Make yourself useful. And like a dog, he often did as he was told. 

This little routine started right after Midsummer. Some sorry excuse of a bakery from the Cut captured Sarah’s attention, and she had been hooked ever since. Rafe didn’t understand why. Not in the slightest. There were more qualified bakeries in Figure Eight that weren’t made from the hands of dirty Pogues. He was sure their dad didn’t understand either, but if Sarah wanted something, Sarah got it. Always. 

But holy shit, this grandma was testing his patience. Knock! Knock! She had been knocking non-stop. Was she always this annoying? Rafe scratched his temple, his jaw tight. Knock! Knock! He rolled his eyes.

She sure must be in a hurry. He was surprised the old bitch was still alive, let alone walking. All frail and trembling and one step away from a heart attack. 

He hated that that would be his future. If he lived that long, that was.

Knock! Knock! “Yeah, yeah, coming!”

Rafe swung the door open. She was lucky she was an old lady because he would have—

Not an old lady.

No, it was just a lady. The baker's granddaughter, if he wasn't mistaken. He had seen you at the Midsummer, but you were a Pogue working, and he was a Kook celebrating.

His fingers loosened around the doorknob, his gaze locked on your face. For once, the voices were quiet. 

You stood on his family’s front porch, holding a box with a clipboard tucked under your arm. The wind picked up, sweeping past you and into his home. A scent of something sweet filled his nostrils. He couldn't tell if it came from the baked goods or you. 

With ease, you gave him a practiced smile. “Hey, I've got an order for Sarah. Two chocolate strawberry cupcakes and a half-dozen chocolate matcha cookies. Is she here?”

Rafe stared at you. "Uh, yeah. But you know, I'll pay for it."

He usually did, anyway—not by choice, but because his dad wanted him to.

"Okay, that'll be twenty-five dollars." You extended your hand.

"Twenty-five? It was twenty last week."

You tilted your head, still smiling. He knew how Pogues like you worked. It was a mask to hide your true intentions. "Inflation. Prices have gone up, so we had to adjust."

Skeptical, he looked you up and down. "Inflation, huh?"

You raised your brows. "You don't know what inflation is?" 

He scoffed, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. He’d much rather deal with your grandma right now—at least she wasn't such a smartass.

Rafe reached for his wallet and grumbled, "I know what inflation is." He handed you the exact change. "You better not be lying, Pogue."

"I'd never lie to a loyal customer's brother," you assured, taking his money and offering the box of baked goods. He didn't believe you for a second. As he grabbed the package, you took out the clipboard from under your arm and faced it to him, clicking the pen. "Sign here, please."

He skimmed over the delivery receipt. “Am I gonna see you ‘round here more often?”

“Maybe. If your sister keeps buying.”

"Can I at least get a name?"

There was a pause. You could hear the birds chirping, and the leaves rustling. Rafe lifted his gaze to meet yours, waiting. 

You pulled the clipboard to your chest. "Everyone calls me Honey."

"Honey?" he huffed, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. "That's cute," he commented half-heartedly.

You hummed, and he swore he saw your professional composure slip. You looked annoyed—maybe even flustered. As he handed the pen back, his fingers brushed yours, the mere touch electrifying.

He opened his mouth to say something, but Sarah appeared behind him before the words could form, her voice cutting through the air, “And I’ll be taking this, thank you very much!” She snatched the box from his hands and flashed you a smile. “Hey, it’s you. Where’s your grandma?”

Rafe sighed through his nose. He had hoped to have you to himself.

He noticed your shoulders tense. "She's at home. Doing deliveries isn't easy for her nowadays."

No shit. That old bitch was pushing ninety. 

He stayed silent.

Sarah nodded, her lips pursed to the side. "Well, tell her Wheezie and I said thank you for the treats."

"Will do.”

He waited for you to meet his gaze, but when you did, he said nothing. Rafe simply watched. You had a pretty face for a Pogue. Soft and delicate, unlike your sharp tongue. What a waste.

Soon, your perfected customer service smile slipped. You turned around, murmuring something about Kooks under your breath as you walked away. He leaned against the doorframe, unable to help but notice the sway of your hips with every step you took.

His sister's voice snapped him back to reality. "What was that about?"

When he looked at her, she was already stuffing her face, a touch of frosting on the tip of her nose. There was a knowing look in her eyes. It pissed him off. 

Change the topic. Deflect. 

"You're gonna get fat if you keep ordering that shit."

Sarah shrugged. "Whatever." And just to spite him, she took a bigger bite and started walking towards the kitchen. "Wheezie! The cupcakes and cookies are here!"

Rafe ran a hand down his face, eyes finding your retreating form. 

Honey. Oh, how had he never noticed you before? 

You were always there. Midsummer. The Boneyard. It was too bad you lived in the fucking Cut because that meant you were just like them. Those Pogues—scrappy, uncivil, liars. Not even your pretty face could redeem that part of you. But maybe, just maybe, you were different.

Rafe shut the door softly, his hand lingering on the knob. He just needed to figure you out.

sunnie speaks! i love my baker!reader and how she makes him spiral <3 also, lmk what you guys think because idk how i feel about this LMAO i doubt i'm going to write a part 2, but i'm open to exploring this dynamic!!! let's chat about rafe cameron / baker!reader

if you like my work, consider following @sunniefics to stay up to date on all my future fics!

[unabashegirl]

Love Island (one shot) – sneak peek

Harry’s arrival on Love Island stirs Y/N’s feelings, sparking tension with her partner, Tom, and the rest of the ladies, as she’s drawn to Harry’s charm and intrigue.

Author's note: Hello everyone! Here is the concept of the new one shot that has been posted on my Patreon. I hope you enjoy the sneak peek. Let me know what you think!

The italics is the narrator just like in LOVE ISLAND!

check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to the rest of the chapters, various one shots and much more :)

Tom’s lips tightened, and he gave a small nod. “Fair enough. I can’t stop you from seeing where things go. I mean, you’re right—it is early days. Just… give me a heads-up if you start to feel like it’s going somewhere else, yeah?”

“Of course,” she assured him, offering him a warm smile. “I’ll always be honest with you, Tom. That’s a promise.”

He smiled, though it looked a bit forced, then let out a sigh, looking back towards the villa. “Right then. Just have to up my game a bit, won’t I?”

Y/N chuckled, nudging him. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. Just keep being you.”

But will that be enough, Tom? With Harry’s arrival in the villa, we might just see if Tom can hold his own—or if his steady confidence starts to crack.

After Tom walked off, Y/N settled back into her lounger, taking a slow sip of her coffee. The warmth of the morning sun was comforting, and she let herself enjoy the peace, though her mind kept drifting to Harry.

Across the patio, Harry was surrounded by a small group of girls, each one caught up in his easy charm. There was Georgia, always the first to get a word in; her dark hair bounced as she laughed at one of his jokes, flashing him a look that said she was more than intrigued. Beside her was Chloe, who toyed with her braid as she angled closer, her gaze fixed on him, and Lila, who had barely left his side since his arrival. They all hung on his every word, their laughter blending with his deep chuckles.

Y/N watched him, noticing the way he seemed effortlessly at ease, making each of the girls feel like they were the only ones there. He was charming, no doubt, and that little smirk of his told her he knew exactly what he was doing. There was something magnetic about him; he was the kind of person you couldn’t help but notice.

Then, as if sensing her gaze, Harry’s eyes lifted, meeting hers across the patio. The moment their eyes connected, a playful glint flickered in his. His smile softened, turning into that cheeky grin she was beginning to recognize. He said something to the girls that made them all laugh again, and then, with a quick apology, excused himself from the group.

Y/N’s heart gave a little jump as she saw him walking towards her, the confidence in his stride obvious as he crossed the patio. When he reached her, he didn’t sit right away. Instead, he leaned forward, his arms resting on the back of her lounger, his face close enough that she could catch the faint scent of the sea on his skin.

“Morning,” he said, his voice smooth, that smirk never leaving his lips. “Didn’t expect to catch you staring.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, raising an eyebrow. “Staring? I was just observing… thought I’d get a better sense of what all the fuss is about.”

He chuckled, settling himself on the edge of her lounger without breaking eye contact. “Ah, so you were curious, then. Good to know I’ve got your attention, even if just a little.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she replied, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “I was just checking to see if you were actually as charming as you think you are.”

He tilted his head, feigning contemplation. “And? What’s the verdict, then?”

She shrugged, pretending to consider it. “I think it’s too early to tell. But I’ll let you know if you manage to impress me.”

Harry leaned back, grinning. “Challenge accepted. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t come over here to see if I could learn a bit more about you too.”

“Oh, really?” she teased, crossing her arms as she watched him. “So, the big mystery man’s got questions?”

“Maybe one or two.” His gaze softened, the playful edge giving way to a hint of sincerity. “Like, what exactly is a girl like you looking for in here?”

She held his gaze, considering her answer for a moment. “Honestly, someone genuine,” she said, her tone earnest. “It’s easy to get caught up in all the surface stuff, but I’m hoping to find something real. Something that lasts.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. “Right. Thought I’d take a risk, try something new.” His voice softened, a touch of vulnerability creeping in. “Been a while since I let anyone in.”

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to fade. She felt a spark, a warmth that hadn’t been there before, and she knew he felt it too.

“Alright then, Harry the risk-taker,” she said, breaking the silence with a playful smile. “Let’s see if you’re as good as you say.”

Harry’s cheeky grin returned, the playfulness back in his eyes. “Oh, you’ve got no idea what I’m capable of, Y/N.”

Looks like Y/N’s little morning coffee break has turned into something a bit more steamy than she bargained for. With Tom on edge and Harry moving in, she may have her hands full. So, who’s in it for the long haul? Stay tuned.

[oliffee]

Princess OC: The Bottled Ship

This is just my thought process on my stp oc, bottled ship! Long ramble under the cut for those who are interested.

Bottled ship initially came from an idea of another concept titled 'The Beacon' in which the princess acted as a way point luring the player towards her.

A beacon similar to a lighthouse. Earlier concepts for the cabin was that it was placed in a desert, but with the lighthouse idea I thought a lake or sea would be more fitting. So, the cabin was placed on top of a small island within a vast lake instead of an empty desert.

So, you got a big expanse of water, surely the princess has to relate to that right? What if princess but fish leviathan? Something so big yet confined to some place so small. Like a ship in a bottle, the bottled ship.

Initially drew most of the concept based solely on vibes hahah. So how bottled ship would fit wasn't really a priority.

But! after doing some thinking, i think i have a rough outline on what the route might look like in chapter one.

I would say you get her after fighting her with the knife but fleeing at the last second. As usual she bangs the door and threatens you to let her out. TLQ falls asleep and awakes with the door still closed.

You and the voices aren't quite sure if the princess is still alive, so the narrator urges you to finish your job and slay her.

You see her slumped on the wall, from the base of the stairs you cant really see her clearly. So you are prompted a choice, either get closer to investigate or leave her.

Leaving would get you to the nightmare as she creeps behind you and freezes your insides.

Investigating closer would lead you to an ambush attack as the princess attempts to wrangle the knife away from you.

As you plunge the knife into her heart, in a moment of sheer defiance she takes the blade out and stabs you too.

Essentially she had lured you into a trap and somehow the ambush had worked for her, albeit ending badly.

There's 2 ways this chapter would end; either you fight her and she swallows you or you could throw the knife into the water to earn her trust.

Bottle wants to be free and knows the cabin is far too small for her. She will then guide you to a plug at the bottom of the basement floor, where both of you will drain all the water from the room.

After all the water is gone, you are left with the faceless princess holding onto a very small and fragile bottle. Both of you exit the cabin.

This one has hidden a part of herself, seeming approachable to you, a clever creature with a trap lying in wait. She no longer needs to hide. She will make for a cunning heart.

[madbard]

I just realized another reason I love Hozier’s music. It’s not just that the lyrics are complex, or the music itself is beautiful - it’s that Hozier is a musical liar.

Take Cherry Wine. This is a song about an abusive relationship, told from the perspective of someone very much in love with their abuser. Throughout the song, the narrator describes their lover’s cruelty. Lyrics like “I walk my days on a wire” and “open hand or closed fist would be fine” make the darker aspects of their relationship all too evident. At points, the song suggests that they are defending this relationship to someone else who cares about them (“it looks ugly but it’s clean. Oh mama, don’t fuss over me”) and even the more beautiful and seemingly romantic lines later in the song (“oh but she loves like sleep to the freezing”) have dark undertones (what else is sleep to the freezing but death?) Still, I often come across the song being used in a wholesome, romantic context. A lot of factors contribute to this, but I would argue that this song mainly gets mistaken for a romantic song because of how soft and gentle the music is - it presents as a sweet love song in every way except the lyrics. Even those lyrics are told through the lens of someone defending their broken and abusive relationship, deepening the lie. Our narrator wants to portray this relationship as something dark, yet also immensely beautiful and encompassing. The result is a song about the agony and pleasure of a broken relationship, disguised so well as a love song in every possible way that it gets mistaken for something romantic. (Even if you are aware of the meaning, there is still that deep urge to experience the song as something romantic. Just like the narrator, the listener is drawn in by beauty and the powerful idea of love, so much so that it can blind them to reality.)

Variations of this can be seen in Talk. In this song, the narrator makes their intentions very clear - they are sweet-talking someone in order to hide their own thoughts and desires (“I try to talk refined, for fear that you find out how I’m imagining you”). Despite knowing this, the sheer power of the lyrics (“I'd be the voice that urged Orpheus / when her body was found. / I'd be the choiceless hope in grief / that drove him underground. / I'd be the dreadful need in the devotee / that made him turn around, / and I'd be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice”) overwhelms the listener. We know the speaker is putting on a show. We know they have ulterior motives, and likely don’t even believe what they are saying. But their words are so beautiful that we don’t care. The intense, almost mythic music in the background is so lovely and deep, it makes the lyrics seem genuine, because what lie could sound so astounding and true? In this case, the song about smoke and mirrors and empty talk becomes a love song because the narrator is just that skilled at lying.

Even songs like Too Sweet, sung by a narrator who refuses to be with someone unless they allow their standards to slide, become ‘romantic’ and ‘sweet’ to certain listeners - not because the lyrics are impenetrable, but because so many of Hozier’s narrators are unreliable. His songs spin sweet stories, lies so stunning that listeners are willing to deny what they know in order to experience the beauty of that untruth, the complexity of that space between what is real and what we want to believe.

And isn’t that more true to the experience of being a person, and loving other people, than the simple truths we often see in these types of songs?

[fallstaticexit]

Prev / Next / Beginning

DJ plays- Color Me Badd - I Adore Mi Amor

Transcript under the cut

Geoffrey: Hey! Check out this little guy.

Bob: Probably one of the cats they let in the church to keep the mice out. Wonder what’s he doing all the way out here.

Geoffrey: We can’t leave him out in the cold. It’s starting to get cold soon.

Bob: There’s no way you think we can sneak a cat in the dorms.

Geoffrey: I’m pretty sure people have snuck in worse. Besides, we’re doing an act of kindness, right, little guy?

Bob: Does Nancy like cats?

Geoffrey: [nervously] W-why?

Bob: I saw you two being all cozy at the game the other day. Care to share?

Geoffrey: She was just being nice, that’s all...

Bob: Popular girls aren’t just nice for no reason. Actually...popular girls aren’t nice at all.

Geoffrey: She’s different. She’s still the same Nancy Landgraab I knew when we were kids. Kind. Smart. Um, really pretty...

Bob: Oh, boy. Do you hear yourself! You my friend are in l-o-v-e and you should talk to her! Ask her out!

Geoffrey: Ask you Nancy Landgraab? How do I do that?

Bob: Glad you ask. I am a certified ladies man. You just gotta- you know, talk to her! Listen to her when she talks. Ask about her day. Compliment her brain, not just her looks, trust me.

Don: [snorts] You listen to this dickhead and you’ll never get laid, Osteer. If you want to hook up with Blondie, I can help you out. It’ll cost you, though.

Geoffrey: Like what?

Don: Room swap. It’ll be easier for my girl to come over without getting caught if I have your room. Dina is friends with the hot blonde chick and she’ll put in a good word. Don’t worry, you can tap that before we swap. Deal?

Geoffrey: I don’t know... shouldn’t I get to know her better?

Don: We’re saying the same thing, dumbass! I’ll let you in on a secret; Tonight, a couple of us cool kids are sneaking out to a college party. Blondie will be there, and you two can get your freak on. How’s that?

Geoffrey: I-

Don: Atta boy, Osteer! Don’t dress like a dork virgin either.

Bob: [in a baby voice] I think this is a bad idea, Geoffrey! Yeah, couldn’t have said it better myself, little guy.

-

Geoffrey: Hey, Nancy. Um. Thanks again for helping me the other day. The only thing that’s bruised is my ego, honestly.

Nancy: Yes, of course. I’m glad you’re okay. Sorry about your ego.

Geoffrey: [chuckles] It’s ok, it should be used to this by now. What are you reading? Can I sit with you before class?

Nancy: Yeah, sure.

Vanessa: She has a crush on Geoffrey? Why didn’t she tell me?

Nina: Apparently, they’re childhood sweethearts. We need you to play matchmaker. If anyone can hook them up, it’s you, VV.

Nancy Narrates: [Ever since that night in my room, Vanessa has been noticeable distant from me. The only thing reaching me was that lost, faraway look in her eyes]

Cassie: Guys...I don’t know. What if Sister Agnes decides to do another room check? What am I supposed to say?

Cassie: I’m just gonna say it- I don’t think you should do this. Feels wrong. Lying? I wouldn’t even know what to say if someone asks. Nancy, say something-

Vanessa: Jesus fucking Christ, figure it the fuck out! Come on, Nancy.

-

Geoffrey: Do you want to da-

Nancy: Getting a drink.

Vanessa: Hi.

Nancy: Are you mad at me about something?

Vanessa: Why would I be mad at you?

Nancy: I don’t know..

Vanessa: Put that down and come dance.

DJ plays- Color Me Badd - I Adore Mi Amor

Dream on, dream away I think I'm gonna have to stay Stay forever I adore mi amor

You want to take her place You say you'd treat me better Better I know for sure

You see she loves me And I could never leave her

Nancy Narrates: [There it was, that feeling again. Only this time, I did fall completely apart]

Nancy: [panting]

You're the one that I adore (I adore) I'll be forever your love (mi amor)

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Point of View

Point of view (POV) - the position from which the events of a story are observed.

The author establishes point of view through the use of characters, dialogue, actions, setting, and events.

Authors rarely speak in their own voices. Instead, they assume a particular persona and adopt a "voice" that enables them to narrate their stories and novels. This voice is called point of view.

4 Common Points of View

1. Omniscient 2. Limited Omniscient:

Major character

Minor character

3. Objective 4. First Person:

Major character

Minor character

OMNISCIENT

The story is told in the third person ("he," "she," "it") by a narrator who knows everything about the characters, actions, and events.

The narrator is able to move in time and place, to shift from character to character, and to reveal or conceal as little or as much as he or she pleases.

This type of narrator is "all knowing."

Example from "Godfather Death:"

"He ought to have remembered his godfather's warning."

The narrator has unlimited knowledge, even knowing the mind of Death, and he comments on and evaluates the doctor as he is dying.

LIMITED OMNISCIENT

The story is also told in the third person, but only from the viewpoint of a single character, whether a major or minor one.

The author selects which character to see through, and the narrator is confined to knowing only the thoughts and actions of that character.

Such a character is the "lens" through which events pass in the story.

Example from Gustave Flaubert's Madame Bovary:

"Charles went upstairs to see the patient. He found him in bed, seating under blankets, his nightcap lying where he had flung it....The fracture was a simple one, without complications of any kind. Charles couldn't have wished for anything easier. Then he recalled his teachers' bedside manner in accident cases, and proceeded to cheer up his patient...."

It is only through Charlie's eyes that readers "see" and learn about the patient.

OBJECTIVE

The story is told in third person, but the narrator does not enter the mind of any character.

The narrator objectively describes events from the outside.

The reader is left to infer the character's inner thoughts and feelings.

The narrator knows which details to use to communicate deep meaning.

Example from Dashiell Hammett's the Maltese Falcon:

"Spade's thick fingers made a cigarette with deliberate care, sifting a measured quantity of tan flakes down into curved paper, spreading the flakes so that they lay equal at the ends with a slight depression in the middle...."

Readers must infer that Spade is deliberate, cool, efficient, and painstaking during a crisis; the author never uses those adjectives to describe Spade.

FIRST PERSON

The story is told in first person ("I"), through the thoughts and feelings of the narrator, not anyone else's.

What reaches the reader is subjective.

So, more important than whether the narrator is a major or minor character is the narrator's reliability.

An unreliable narrator can present a distorted picture of events; a reliable one can render events with accuracy.

Example from Aesop's Ant and the Grasshopper:

"Cold and hungry, I watched the ant tugging over the snow a piece of corn he had stored up last summer. My feelers twitched, and I was conscious of a tic in my left hind leg. Finally I could bear it no longer. 'Please, friend ant,' I asked, 'may I have a bit of your corn?"

Readers only know the thoughts and feelings of the grasshopper. They know nothing about what the ant thinks or how the ant feels.

Determining Point of View

The attitudes and opinions of a narrator aren't necessarily those of the author.

Don't confuse a character with the author.

To determine point of view, ask who the narrator is and what pronoun the author attaches to the narrator.

Also ask yourself what role, if any, the narrator plays.

By using a particular point of view, an author determines how much the narrator reveals about the characters.

If these writing notes help with your poem/story, do tag me. Or send me a link. I'd love to read them!

More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ POV

[zil-street]

Human John headcanon time!

Gets tired very quickly after gaining a body.

Wears a wooden ring on his left pinky.

Very loud.

Will still narrate things when he’s walking next to Arthur, and occasionally does this with other people when Arthur isn’t around.

Can still see through Arthur’s eyes if he concentrates really hard, this gives him a headache though.

Look at him hard enough and sometimes things will feel off, like his shadow is moving while he is just sitting still.

Got drunk with Noel one time and then never again because the hangover was the worst pain he had felt in a while (he had one drink).

Very clingy not just with Arthur but also Noel and eventually Oscar. Will just kinda drape himself over them whether they’re standing or sitting.

Loves gossip about people he doesn’t know.

All the little old ladies in the neighborhood love him because he’s quite the strapping young man. At least five of them say he’s just like their grandson.

For his first meal he ate way too much and got stomach cramps, even though he didn’t really like half the stuff he was eating. Next morning Arthur gave him bread and butter and that was a much better start to the whole food thing.

Really quiet when walking and scares the shit out of other people because they hadn’t realized he was in the room. Arthur is the only person this doesn’t affect.

Ambidextrous because he kept forgetting which hand he was supposed to be writing with.

John keeps a daily diary because a part of him is scared to forget anything about his life and he doesn’t trust that some weird eldritch being *cough* Kayne *cough* won’t mess with his memory.

John is a bit mischievous and goofy around people he knows well but will snap into “normal person” mode when he’s around others. Noel finds this hilarious, Arthur does not.

Never sits in chairs properly, and somehow ends up half lying down (for exceptions see the above headcanon)

Faroe specific:

He will describe her puppy dog eyes to Arthur whenever she wants something.

Carries her around everywhere, and lets her hang off his arm.

90% of the time something she hasn’t experienced neither has he so they both gang up on Arthur trying to convince him to let them go do something.

She likes his voice so Arthur and John alternate reading her bedtime stories.

Has a list of hard ‘no’s from Arthur on what he can or cannot buy for Faroe. Otherwise she’d have two puppies and three kittens by now.

Both Faroe and Arthur will occasionally fall asleep while leaning against him. One time both of them at the same time. He was overly cheerful about this and sat way too still for multiple hours.

[swanpyart]

An interesting thing; despite the Narrator saying that the Princess will lie and cheat, she literally rarely does unless we perceive her as a liar and a cheater. Every version of the Princess is as honest and candid as she can possibly be with what little info each version has. And the Princess actually SUCKS at lying.

Damsel tells us what we want to hear, but she’s literally just saying things that we tell her to say, and it’s pretty obvious she’s unreliable. The only genuinely dishonest version of the Princess is the Razor, and, noticeably, she’s really bad at lying. The Long Quiet and every Voice can tell she’s bullshitting you, and the Narrator only doesn’t believe you because he is preprogrammed to be as rigid as possible to the routine. And we only wind up on this route because WE must assume she has more up her sleeve. Even the Witch, whose a bit sneaky, never tries to act like our ally or trick us beyond hiding her arm behind her back to make us think she was chained up (which is less of a lie and more of using our assumptions against us).

That being said, ironically, the Narrator lies ALL the time, and cheats aplenty as well with Deus Ex Machina (locking you in the basement, teleporting the Pristine Blade, and overriding your free will). The Tower can be resisted if you try hard enough, but no matter what, you can’t fight the Narrator’s control (you either kill the Princess or she kills you).