#we'll see if that skews it or not

[rosencrantzsguildenstern]

semi serious / character development

this is the last of the gintama arc polls i've been running! (i tragically had to exclude a lot; but i JUST learnt that polls have 12 options now. i wish i knew this for the other polls. this is so fucked up, and also why this list isn't in chronological order like the rest, since i added the ones i was thinking of excluding onto the end. anyway)

[liesmyth]

Do you have any Coronabeth Worsetwin thoughts about Abigail's reaction to finding out Ianthe become a Lyctor in HtN ("Blast. It should have been Coronabeth. Ianthe never was quite the thing")? I love Abigail but ngl I am also a Corona Worsetwin truther in part because I would find it much more satisfying for one of the series' designated Rational Moral Adults to be categorically wrong about Corona.

OH I love this! I hadn't really thought out it until now, but my first reaction is that it might have been just the general "Ugh, yuck, Ianthe?" vibe that she seems to evoke, since she's very much unpleasant on main. But when thinking about it more in-depth, I think Abigail's perception of WHY Corona would be more suited to Lyctorhood depends on which qualities Abigail thinks a Lyctor should possess that Ianthe lacks.

One thing about Abigail in HtN is that she is as much of an atheist as you can get in TLT, but also she seems to have a sort of romanticised view of John (calling him "the Kindly Emperor", "I've longed my whole life to give him my findings") and I wonder if this extends to her conception of Lyctorhood as a sort of state of idyllic quest for knowledge — "the beauty of necromantic mysteries" as Harrow puts it. She's also the leader of a House known for its diplomacy, influence, and not-so-subtle expansionistic ambitions.

So, is she thinking about Corona's diplomatic skills? Her political knowledge? Or — because at this point she still believes Coronabeth is also a necromancer — is she thinking that Corona was the better necromancer than Ianthe, as it was widely speculated?

Going wildly off into headcanon land, we know Abigail has anti-Cohort sympathies (as per Judith's files) and I wonder if that plays a part. We know that Corona regards the Houses's expansionistic strategy as inefficient, but I don't think it's something Abigail would know. Maybe she just thinks Corona would be able to assert authority over the Cohort better? (One of my pet speculations is that there's some antagonism between the Cohort and the Lyctors, and if that's actually a thing Abigail could be aware of it.)

I think it's a combination of Corona's people skill, her personal experience with both twins, and the fact that Ianthe actively puts off everyone she meets.

(If anyone has any opinions about Abigail here PLS feel free to add, I too love her but she's one of the hardest characters to figure out for me)

Personally, a solid 40% of why I am a Corona Worsetwin truther is because I think it's hot. The rest is her everything in NtN / AYU from the threatening suicide to statecraft scheming, with a smattering of that one Taz interview <3 I'm excited to see her wreck havoc in AtN.

[existencebringsonlypain]

reblog please, I wanna see what it'll be

[fallout-lou-begas]

Tagged by @bhaldurshaik to make a poll with five favorite characters, and then everybody gets to vote on who THEIR favorite character is out of those (and then I tag five more people), and so:

gonna tag @formerbogbody and @churlfriend and @calebwittebane @harrenhalyuri and @rad-roche and @gr0undswell and @springbeemaya and oops uh oh oops that's more than five oopsie oh well

[godgavemenoname]

today has been really bad for me

[mantisgodsdomain]

Very fun to be an dormant Homestuck in 2023. We saw a post with an aside about the mid-to-highblood bias present in the fandom and we took a moment to think "wait, what?" before remembering how much people posted about Mallek, Lanque, and Marvus. Obviously no one asked our opinion on the matter but we think that a lot of the bias here may just be because fandom people will jump at any vaguely conventionally attractive male character who can say something angsty, and we don't see 99% of this effect because we rapidly get fatigued with any character who is overly present in the fandom and any ship that has overrepresentation in the sample size and start blocking tags.

Very highly effective approach, admittedly, but it leaves us a bit out of the loop. We only really start encountering Issues with that approach in smaller fandoms when blocking any given popular ship will instantly shrink our mutual circle to Just Us and maybe, like, one guy who we dragged in here ourself, so we have to relax blocking standards somewhat and just make it "blocked for a week" or something similar.

[iguessitsjustme]

Still bored and back still hurts. More Two Truths and a Lie

Feel free to play/vote in Part 1. This is the last easy one. Future ones are gonna be weird.

[pirateborn-a]

pensive momence is mugiwara store being closed bc new years stuff and bc we missed flight yesterday so the 8 hour delay meant by time we got here it was closed

[thisselflovecamebacktome]

Thinking of making grammy nomination, and, based off of that, win predictions once the cut off date hits but idk.

[supersoakerfullofblood]

Point of View: the Biggest Thing You're Missing!

Point of view is one of the most important elements of narrative fiction, especially in our modern writing climate, but you rarely hear it seriously discussed unless you go to school for writing; rarely do help blogs or channels hit on it, and when they do, it's never as in-depth as it should be. This is my intro to POV: what you're probably missing out on right now and why it matters. There are three essential parts of POV that we'll discuss.

Person: This is the easiest part to understand and the part you probably know already. You can write in first person (I/me), second (You), and third person (He/she/they). You might hear people talk about how first person brings the reader closer to the central character, and third person keeps them further away, but this isn't true (and will be talked about in the third part of this post!) You can keep the reader at an intimate or alien distance to a character regardless of which person you write in. The only difference--and this is arguable--is that first person necessitates this intimacy where third person doesn't, but you still can create this intimacy in third person just as easily. In general, third person was the dominant (and really the only) tense until the late 19th century, and first person grew in popularity with the advent of modernism, and nowadays, many children's/YA/NA books are written in first person (though this of course doesn't mean you can't or shouldn't write those genres in the third person). Second person is the bastard child. Don't touch it, even if you think you're clever, for anything the length of a novel. Shorter experimental pieces can use it well, but for anything long, its sounds more like a gimmick than a genuine stylistic choice.

Viewpoint Character: This is a simple idea that's difficult in practice. Ask yourself who is telling your story. This is typically the main character, but it needn't be. Books like The Book Thief, The Great Gatsby, Rebecca, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and the Sherlock series are told from the perspective of a side character who isn't of chief importance to the narrative. Your viewpoint character is this side character, the character the reader is seeing the world through, so the main character has to be described through them. This isn't a super popular narrative choice because authors usually like to write from the perspective of their most interesting character, but if you think this choice could fit your story, go for it! You can also swap viewpoint characters throughout a story! A word of warning on that: only change your viewpoint character during a scene/chapter break. Switching mid-scene without alerting the reader (and even when you do alert the reader) will cause confusion. I guarantee it.

Means of Perception; or, the Camera: This part ties the first two together. If you've ever heard people talk about an omniscient, limited, etc. narrator, this is what they mean. This part also includes the level of intimacy the reader has with the viewpoint character: are we in their heads, reading their thoughts, or are we so far away that we can only see their actions? If your story is in a limited means of perception, you only have access to your character's head, eyes, and interpretations, where an omniscient narrator sees through all characters' heads at once. (This doesn't eliminate the viewpoint character--most of your writing will still be in that character's head, but you're allowed to reach into other characters' thoughts when needed. You could also be Virginia Woolf, who does fluidly move through everyone's perspectives without a solid viewpoint character, but I would advise against this unless you really are a master of the craft.) Older novels skew towards third person omniscient narration, where contemporary novels skew towards first person limited. You also have a spectrum of "distant" and "close." If omniscient and limited are a spectrum of where the camera can swivel to, distant and close is a spectrum of how much the camera can zoom in and out. Distant only has access to the physical realities of the world and can come off as cold, and close accesses your character's (or characters', if omniscient) thoughts. Notice how I said narration. Your means of perception dramatically effects how your story can be told! Here's a scene from one of my stories rewritten in third-person distant omniscient. The scene is a high school football game:

“Sometimes,” he said. “Not much anymore.” “It’s not better, then?” She shivered; the wind blew in. “A little.” His tone lifted. “I don’t know if it’ll ever be better, though.” She placed a hand on his arm, stuttered there, and slipped her arm around his waist. “Did it help to be on your own?” He raised an eyebrow. “You were there.” “Yes and no.” “And the guys, the leaders.” “Come on,” she heckled. “Okay, okay.” Carmen sighed. “Yeah, it helped. I don’t think—I don’t know—I’d be me if they’d fixed it all.” She grinned. “And who might you be?” “Oh, you know. Scared, lonely.” He fired them haphazardly, and a bout of laughter possessed him which Piper mirrored. “Impatient.” “And that’s a good thing?” “No.” He sat straight. “Gosh, no. But I don’t want to be like him, either.” He pointed to the field; Devon recovered a fumbled ball. “He’s never been hurt in his life.” She met his eyes, which he pulled away. “You don’t mean that," Piper said. “Maybe not. He’s too confident, though.” The cloth of Carmen's uniform caved and expanded under Piper's fingers.

With distant-omniscient, we only get the bare actions of the scene: the wind blows in, Piper shivers, the cloth rises and falls, Carmen points, etc. But you can tell there's some emotional and romantic tension in the scene, so let's highlight that with a first person limited close POV:

“Sometimes,” he said. “Not much anymore.” “It’s not better, then?” Frost spread up from her legs and filled her as if she were perforated rock, froze and expanded against herself so that any motion would disturb a world far greater than her, would drop needles through the mind’s fabric. A misplaced word would shatter her, shatter him. “A little.” His tone lifted. “I don’t know if it’ll ever be better, though.” She placed a hand on his arm, thought better, and slipped her arm around his waist. “Did it help to be on your own?” He raised an eyebrow. “You were there.” “Yes and no.” “And the guys, the leaders.” “Come on,” she heckled. “Okay, okay.” Carmen sighed. “Yeah, it helped. I don’t think—I don’t know—I’d be me if they’d fixed it all.” She grinned. “And who might you be?” “Oh, you know. Scared, lonely.” He fired them haphazardly, and a bout of laughter possessed him which Piper mirrored. “Impatient.” “And that’s a good thing?” “No.” He sat straight. “Gosh, no. But I don’t want to be like him, either.” He pointed to the field; Devon recovered a fumbled ball. “He’s never been hurt in his life.” “You don’t mean that.” She spoke like a jaded mother, spoke with some level of implied authority, and reminded herself again to stop. “Maybe not. He’s too confident, though.” Piper felt the cloth of his waist cave and expand under her fingers and thought: is this not confidence?

Here, we get into Piper's thoughts and physical sensations: how the frost rises up her, and how this sensation of cold is really her body expressing her nervous fears; how she "thought better" and put her arm around his waist; her thought "is this not confidence?"; and how she reminds herself not to talk like a mother. Since I was writing from the close, limited perspective of a nervous high schooler, I wrote like one. If I was writing from the same perspective but with a child or an older person, I would write like them. If you're writing from those perspectives in distant narration, however, you don't need to write with those tones but with the authorial tone of "the narrator."

This is a lot of info, so let's synthesize this into easy bullet points to remember.

Limited vs. Omniscient. Are you stuck to one character's perspective per scene or many?

Close vs. Distant. Can you read your characters' thoughts or only their external worlds? Remember: if you can read your character's thoughts, you also need to write like you are that character experiencing the story. If child, write like child; if teen, write like teen; etc.

Here's another way to look at it!

This is a confusing and complex topics, so if you have any questions, hit up my ask box, and I'll answer as best I can. The long and short of it is to understand which POV you're writing from and to ruthlessly stick to it. If you're writing in limited close, under no circumstances should you describe how a character other than your viewpoint character is feeling. Maintaining a solid POV is necessary to keeping the dream in the reader's head. Don't make them stumble by tripping up on POV!

[etherealily]

​🇹​​🇭​​🇪​ ​🇱​​🇮​​🇳​​🇪​ // 𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘹𝘦𝘪 𝘷𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘬𝘺

Alexei Vronsky + fem!reader

Warnings : Cuss words.

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

'Cross that line for me, sweetheart?'

Desc. : You are not a temptress, but he is tempted.

══════════════════ ⋆🍷⋆ ══════════════════

It was curious, to say the least, how land was divided. The conch next to you was half your property and half the Vronsky estate's property. It had remained that way for ages.

The waves lapped up the sand, like a heart reaching desperately for its other half as you sat watching the entire ordeal.

The Line - one drawn up every morning and marked by tiny flags as placeholders - had always pissed you off. Intrigued you. What would happen if you were to... just a finger? The hem of your dress. Would you immediately be shot at by concealed snipers? Perhaps you'd have to be tried in court.

You had never really noticed much about this Vronsky character before. Another handsome, manipulative bastard. Nothing much.

In turn, he'd also never noticed you. A face. One of many. Beautiful, of course, he was not blind, but never seen as worthy of his efforts. You were not rebellious. You were not adorably innocent. He could not entice you. He could not corrupt you.

In theory, your paths were never to cross. Different lives, same circles.

The key word : theory.

Because there are moments in life when you know that nothing will ever be the same again, when you know that your proverbial pathway is forever skewed and rerouted. These may appear to you embossed in calamities such as loss and grief, or these may be whispered in your ear by silent smiles, lovestruck looks across a ballroom, or the simple offer of champagne.

Or, in the case of you and Alexei Vronsky, all of the above.

And this was one of those torturous, life-altering moments.

"-And that's when I said, it was just a bloody goat !"

Booming, drunken laughter ensued from your left - the other side of the Line. Fuck. Keep drawing, shut up, keep drawing, shut up.

Your pencil made unintelligible sounds as it scratched out a somewhat passable depiction of the moonlit waves. The screams and guffaws grew louder, but the issue was that if you moved, he'd assume you did it because you were on his side. You were not, but it would look highly suspicious if you fled.

No. They'd quietened down. Meaning either they left - highly unlikely - or, they'd noticed you.

"Oi!"

Don't respond, don't respond.

"You! Pretty girl!"

Drunk men are terrifying. How could such kind words be said in a way that made your skin crawl?

"Mate, maybe she's a mute. Or deaf. Or both."

"I know for a fact she's not. She's got quite a mouth on her, as I can remember from last year- HEY! LADY WITH THE SKETCHBOOK!"

And that was Alexei Vronsky. His story with the goat had ended, apparently. Ugh.

You turned. "Uh, hello."

"ARE YOU A MUTE?" his companion yelled.

"Are you daft? She just answered! How could she be mute?"

Drunk men are also idiotic.

"WHY DON'T YOU COME ON OVER HERE, WE'LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO DRAW?"

Bellowing laughter followed.

For fuck's sake.

"I'm alright, THANKS!"

"OI, C'MON! WE DON'T BITE!"

From what you'd heard, he does.

"IS IT 'CAUSE OF THAT LINE?"

"Good night, Count Vronsky.", you called back, as you gathered up your things and stood, dusting the sand off your dress.

"HOLD ON! WAIT!"

"Let'r go, mate, c'mon, we've got a party to get back to."

"I WAS JUST BEING NEIGHBOURLY, YOU BITCH!"

FUCKING HELL.

"What did you just call me?!", you yelled, turning. He looked back at you in a swaying, inebriated haze, trying to focus those glaciers he called eyes on yours in the darkness.

"A witch. You've cast a spell on me, bewitched me, so to speak. You're magic."

Ugh. "Whatever."

"Just come over here, or I'll have to come there, and you wouldn't like that.", he slurred, his friends chortling and egging him on.

Buggering Christ.

"You can't. See?", you replied defiantly, pointing deliberately at the faint white outline of the line they renewed every morning with chalk powder. "That would be trespassing."

"I'm Alexei Vronsky."

What was that supposed to mean?

"So? It's still trespassing. My family's had it in for you for a long time - we'll take you to court."

"Then you come here.", he shrugged, taking an unstable stumble closer. "Cross that line for me, sweetheart? Yeah?"

"You're a creep. And you're drunk."

"You're a beauty. And you're technically trespassing, so I need to punish you."

"HOW am I-"

"Your pencil." Fuck. How is it he's sober enough to notice that, but not sober enough to know that his buddy said 'the coat storage' not 'the goat story'?

"It blew in the wind."

"Yes. To my estate."

"You can keep it."

"Are you sure? Isn't this your, uh, fabulous pencil from Paris you were talking of?"

"No." Yes.

"No?", he frowned, picking it up. NO! Not in his grimy, disgustingly delicate fingers. "Seems pretty French to me."

"Are you actually inebriated or do you simply enjoy pretending to be so that you can get away with things?"

He stopped swaying, pointing the pencil in your direction as he placed the other hand behind his back. "You're sharp."

"So you're sober?"

Drunk Vronsky could have been molded. Sober Vronsky was a cunt.

"More or less. My friends feel left out because they are unable to hold their liquor as well as I can, so I act for them.", he explained, with a small look behind him, at his comrades trying to jump over the waves as they came.

"You should be in theatre, then."

"Adding performer to my resume is just a smidge too over-accomplished.", he retorted, an amused glint in his eye.

Ugh.

"So you're going to hold on to my pencil, then, I'm guessing."

"What? No, I know how much this means to you."

Trap. You'd bet your entire estate it was a trap.

"I will give it back.", he continued as he paced, his hand still placed behind his back as though he were planning war strategies. "On one condition."

See? Trap.

"Dinner. With me. Tomorrow."

Did he think this was a smart way to secure an evening with a woman?

"I won't be here tomorrow." Bold-faced lie, and he could tell.

"Then tonight. Right now." You couldn't think of anything you were doing.

"And I'll get my pencil back."

"Yes."

"That can't be it. There's a catch."

"You are... remarkable. Yes. There is.", he whispered, softly, as though impressed that you caught on. "Champagne. I wish to see you drunk. Drunk, in denial and... ruined."

Lot of darkness for someone who'd just been talking about a goat.

"In denial?"

"Nothing. Just... join me for dinner and drink a little, and I promise you shall have your pencil back."

"I do not drink."

"Then I do not return fancy French pencils."

"I can always purchase another."

"You do not have sentimentality, then?"

"No." Yes.

"I see. Then you may be on your way."

"I don't have to go anywhere. I have every right to be here! This is still my side of The Line."

"Suit yourself, darling."

The silence that followed was torturous and unbearable. "I do not like steak."

"Then you shall have no steak."

══════════════════ ⋆🍷⋆ ══════════════════

His eyes focused on you from across the table, his spoon paused midway above his plate. Eyes like the ocean in a storm. Terrifying but alluring.

"Enjoying your not-steak?"

You hid a smile. "Yes, I am."

He nodded, bringing his spoon up to his lips as he watched you do the same.

"You've left your friends out there?"

"They know not to cross The Line. They will be alright."

"Why is it you wanted to have dinner with me? To trap me into trespassing?"

"I've wanted to speak with you since I first saw you." Lie.

"And I you." Lie.

"What was it you wished to say?"

"Simply a greeting. You?"

"The same."

He set down his spoon, scrunching up his napkin as he stood up and walked the short distance across the table to you, resting his hands on the back of your chair. "You promised you'd drink."

"I did?"

"You did.", he whispers, accepting the newly-uncorked bottle the servant handed him, and pouring it into the glass next to your plate, smoothly. "And you're a good girl who keeps promises, yes?"

You'd heard he loved using such degrading language, but this was the first time you'd seen it firsthand.

"What gave you that idea?"

"I just figured you were of proper breeding and were raised right."

Good answer.

"Well, the words 'I promise' never left my mouth."

"Well-bred women do not look for loopholes. And they most certainly do not argue."

Lord knows where he'd worked up the audacity to brush some hair off your shoulder, but perhaps he was born with it imbibed in his blood.

He narrowed his eyes at your unchanging expression. "Drink."

"I am not done with my food."

He breathes out loudly, taking your plate and thrusting it into the hands of the nearest servant. "Yes, you are."

"I still have dessert."

"No, you don't. Drink."

"This is not champagne. You said champagne."

"And you said you'd drink. We both have uttered falsities. Drink."

"I fear you may be trying to-"

"Poison you? I am not. I would not like to see you die."

Was that supposed to be some form of assurance? Romantic? Caring? That did not have the intended effect.

"Drink, lovely."

It irked you how invested he was to see you drunk.

You wrapped your fingers around the glass, bringing it to your lips. Tilting it upwards, you let the liquor cascade down your throat, and echoes of your sputtering filled the room - it burned.

He laughed heartily, shaking his head as he stroked your shoulder from behind you. "Do you know what that was?"

"No. But I do know I will not take another sip."

"It was vodka, my dear, and in a few moments, you will want more. Trust me."

"I'm not taking another sip of that ghastly liquid!"

"Not even for me? Not even if I begged?"

"You think your begging has any effect on me?"

"Doesn't it? I'm known to be quite persuasive, and- besides, aren't you supposed to be the empathetic one in the family?"

"And where did you hear that?"

"Just about everywhere, really.", he huffed, resting his elbow on the table as he knelt down by your side. "'Y/N is the nicest one. She cares the most. Empathetic.' Surely you are not telling me those are lies?"

"Not lies, but exaggerations, perhaps."

"I am quite literally on my knees, Y/N, and you should realize how rare that is. Drink more or I will have to force you."

You frowned at him.

"I will do it. Force you. Don't think that because I have let you in my house so courteously that I will continue to be a gentleman with you."

"How could you be? You're nothing but a cad.", you scoffed, as you took another stingingly painful gulp.

He watched the glass, your tongue, your throat, almost mesmerized as he replied. "A cad?", he questioned softly, amused but still fascinated by your every movement.

"A cad.", you nodded, trying not to show how much you were gasping for breath. It hurt, satisfyingly.

"That's a first. No one has ever said 'oh, Alexei Vronsky, that cad'.", he murmured against his palm as he observed you meticulously.

"Then they have met a different person."

"You say this out of personal experience, do you?"

"I've met him. The Alexei Vronsky. He only thinks of one thing."

A lilt of his lips. "And that is?"

"Himself."

He concealed a grin.

"Or perhaps...", he mused, fingertips on the back of your neck as though he were playing your skin as one would a piano. "He is one who shows different versions of himself to different people."

"So he is deceitful."

"I'd say careful."

"Would you, now?"

"I think we put up far too many false pretences anyway. No point in fighting it - it is necessary, to be part of society."

"And what false pretences am I putting up, in your expert opinion?"

He smiled, one too pure to match the description you had so harshly delivered a moment before, but you knew more than most that it was a ruse. "Drink more."

"You're an incredibly demanding man, aren't you? Dine with me. Drink more. Not a single please, nor thank you.", you retorted, as though that could take away from the fact that you obeyed.

"When you are incredibly in demand, you learn to be incredibly demanding."

If ever a smoother talker existed, you'd wager he'd simply be Alexei Vronsky in disguise.

"So tell me, then. Are you a gentleman, a cad, or an opportunist, Count Vronsky?"

You had to steer the conversation back to him, because whatever this vilely beguiling liquor was, it was shooting through your veins at a rate too fast to risk talking about yourself, lest any family secrets spilled out.

"I am whatever you want me to be. And you? Are the rumours true? Are you a virgin, a temptress, or a genius?"

"I am whatever I want to be. For tonight."

"Come morning?", he murmured against your neck as he slipped a finger under a loose strand of hair, and twirled it with such dedication you would think that were his only purpose in life.

"A memory."

"Well, we can't have that.", he pouted, as he stood up, gently taking the glass away from you and finishing the last of it. "What does it take for a memory to stay in the present?"

"Vronsky-"

"A dance, perhaps, as they say you enjoy?"

If you weren't unsure of the functionality of your motor skills in your drunken haze, you'd have punched him right then and there.

"The rumours aren't true, you know?"

"What rumours?", he asked, feigning obliviousness.

He'd just spoken of them, but you were quite sure if you reminded him, he'd attribute it to the vodka. Tell you you were 'surely imagining things, dear one'.

"The ones that led you to come and have a go at me."

"Those? Oh, I didn't believe them for a second.", he grinned, his eyes examining the filthiest, most remote parts of your soul - ones that even you had never been privy to.

A moment washed over the both of you, tauntingly. You looked for any secrets in his eyes, and he looked for any in yours, albeit, more calmly than you.

"Come.", he mumbled, finally, offering his hand for you to get up out of his disgustingly well-crafted chair. "Let's get you back on your side of The Line."

══════════════════ ⋆🍷⋆ ══════════════════

"There. Oh, and here. I am of proper manners.", he added after you'd leapt over The Line, handing your pencil back over to you.

It felt oddly anticlimactic after the events of the evening.

His icy blue eyes - striking, so striking that they pierced you - fell onto your lips for just a moment before landing on the pencil in your hand. "You don't want it back."

"What? Of course I do."

He had you. He was onto you.

"Let me rephrase. You don't need it back."

"Sentimentality. Of course I do."

"You really don't want it to stay in my possession, instead?"

"No."

"Liar.", he smirked, his lips curving deliciously, and you just about lost it. "You know I'll take very good care of it, no? Like I took care of you, tonight. No complaints, yes?"

"Besides the aggressive persuasion to drink a fiery liquid that most probably burnt my throat off, no."

"You exaggerate. Tell me tonight was just another of your dull nights. Tell me I haven't been a source of reprieve from your tedious, mundane days of fakeness and gossip."

You scoffed, refusing to dignify that with a reply, although you already knew that any response- or lack thereof - would be all too telling.

"You cannot, can you?"

There was nothing you hated more than when men were right.

Especially men who were as captivating as Vronsky. It was unnecessary and dangerous.

He beamed, clearly so fucking proud of himself, as he looked out at the waves. "It is a lovely dress you are wearing."

No, it wasn't. It was the most commonplace of dresses one could wear. But he'd say it anyway. Because that was his play.

"Thank you."

"It is disgusting, though."

"In what way? A disgusting display of my wealth, or disgustingly lovely?"

He knelt down next to you from the other side, on the sand. "It is disgusting that such beauty and purity like yours can exist and people continue to slander its name."

Had you been a lesser woman, you'd have fallen for it.

It seemed, however, that he knew you wouldn't. It was confusing, to say the least, whether he was being genuine or being genuinely fake.

"It is how I live."

If you'd read him right, he should say something along the lines of...

"It shouldn't be."

There.

"However... the dress in itself is not disgusting?"

"No, it is spectacular- although, I must say, the woman wearing it is far more ravishing."

Games get boring when they are predictable.

"So. What is it you normally do after parties, since you cannot get drunk? Unless blackmailing women to dine with you and drink your vodka is your usual pastime."

He snickered, although a slight maliciousness infiltrated his gaze for a moment. "It isn't so much a pastime as... an unfortunately common occurence. Perhaps that's why you've got an opinion of me as a - how'd you put it?"

"A cad."

"Ah, yes, a cad. I wonder if your opinion has changed."

That was not hope in his eyes, no. That was a challenge. 'Go ahead, Y/N, say no. If you dare.', his look said.

"I wonder that, too. Perhaps it will if you keep your promise."

"Promise?", he repeated, raising a brow. He knew. He knew all too well what you were saying.

"False pretences.", you reminded, watching him as he watched the waves distort the light of the moon. "You said you would tell me what false pretences you think I put up."

He was far too close. The incredibly fragile, entirely imaginary Line wouldn't be able to stop him from reaching over and touching your shoulder once more.

"I think... do you want to know what I think?"

"I might."

"I think that you're lying when you brush off the rumours."

"You think I am a slut? A temptress?" Now, suddenly, the monotonous nature of everyday seemed far more interesting than the thousandth iteration of the same conversation.

"No, I think you brushing them off is the lie. They affect you far too much." Alright. That was... progress.

"Do they, now?"

"Very much. And there is one more, as well, although I doubt you will like to hear it. You crave to prove them right."

Congratulations, Alexei Vronsky, you've caught my attention.

"That is an extremely, extremely bold suggestion."

"Yet you are not denying it."

"I do not wish to have my virtue questioned, Vronsky, and us having dinner does not change that."

"But it pokes at it, does it not? A slight scratch, an itch, asking if that is what you really want. It blurred the lines, did it not?"

Shut up, shut up, shut up.

"You're an incredibly delusional man, Count Vronsky."

"A delusional cad."

"Precisely."

You didn't miss the amusement in his tone, the laughter, the way he knew how perfectly right he was.

"Well, this delusional cad did not lie, earlier. You truly have bewitched me, my dear, and I do not think I shall ever turn you down."

He stood up, dusting the sand off his gloves and pants. You stood up too, not out of respect, but out of the desire to relish his face once more.

"Turn me down?"

"When you inevitably ask for me when your marriage is dry, lifeless and torturous."

Good lord. How long had he been- how far ahead was he thinking?

"I will be right here. On this side."

"Why are you so adamant that my marriage will be-"

"Because I'm the one you need. You've broken quite literally every rule tonight. Crossed the line, fraternized with the enemy, drank unfamiliar alcohol that could so easily have been poisoned or used against you."

"How does that make you the one I-"

"I'm taking you out of your comfort zone. Freeing you. What more would one want from a lover?"

So casual with that word. Lover. As though that was all you two had been, since the beginning.

"Have I mentioned that you're-"

"Delusional? Yes, you have. But you have also yet to mean it."

Who the hell allowed this man to be so confident?

His thumb rubbed against your cheek in pure tenderness that you are well-prepared for - you've learnt over the years he's unpredictable, and since his mercurial nature was the only predictable thing about him, it was easy for you to guess his next move.

Or at least, figure out that it would be the exact opposite of the tone of his words.

"I can help you, you see?", he said, words so faint they were almost whisked away in the sea breeze. "Honest."

"Was that the point of tonight?"

"No, the point of tonight was to get you so utterly inebriated that you would tell me your family's secrets, and hence, your own."

That was the only thing that had come out of his mouth all night that you could guarantee was the truth.

"And since that did not happen, you are doing this?"

"No, I couldn't let that happen. Unwrapping you, figuring you out, it is far too intriguing a task to complete with a glass of vodka and enticing words. I want to spend years, decades, the rest of my life, performing this task, revealing you slowly and addictively, until I have lost myself or driven myself crazy trying to reach the core of your soul."

The silence kissed you two over and over until you couldn't take it anymore. "You are terrifyingly good at this."

He almost looked like he was about to say 'at what', but it seemed his mood had turned too serious to coax a half-hearted insult out of you.

"And you are terrifying. You are like the eye of a storm, intricately, almost... sinisterly drawing me closer."

"I'm not sure what you want me to-"

His lips devoured your words, and you could not help but think that this night had progressed far too rapidly to your liking. He was a stranger, a random man who you shared nothing but a flimsy little line with, but here you were, letting him kiss you, letting him ruin you, letting him convince you with his words that this was a good idea.

"Come on, darling.", he murmured against your lips, his eyes still half-lidded in a triumphant haze. "Cross the line. I promise, I'll take care of you."

You surrendered, and all you could do was hope that his beauty was simply angelic in nature, and was not designed for the sole purpose of ruining you and every iota of self-respect you had.

Hard to tell, but perhaps he had meant it that way.

[somehow-a-human]

Whose POV is it anyway?

An Introduction

DO NOT ASK NEIL ABOUT FAN THEORY

Cracking down on the storytelling of Good Omens season 2 through the lens of a changing narrator.

If you haven't read this interview with Good Omens cinematographer Gavin Finney, and you're interested in the fantastic dedication and detail that went into this TV show, definitely give it a read. Not only is it lovely, but Neil also posted the article with a caption mentioning that it's got so many secrets in it. Obviously that made me take a closer look.

I have already gone into a fair bit of detail about the different Lens Filters that Finney mentions in the article in a separate post and I will be referring to them quite a bit so if you aren't familiar with them I would suggest reading that first!

This first post is going to cover the basics of changing narrator/POV's and I'll be writing additional posts for separate episodes/minisodes/scenes since there's obviously way too much to cover in a single go. So shall we take our first look?

It's no secret that something's a *bit weird* with season two, and there are SO many theories about it. I love to read speculation, metas, theories, and opinions, it's definitely fun but my personal ideas align more with the idea that we're simply being shown the events of season 2 through the memories of multiple narrators, different POV's, and it slightly skews the story, sometimes within one continuous scene.

I am also a sucker for a good multiple timeline theory but that isn't this post.

Lens Filters

As I stated above, I wrote a post about each of these individual filters earlier. What I didn't go into in that post was speculation about the filters. While I think they're pretty straightforward, especially the filter for hell (Black Pro-Mist ((BPM)), I think the other two have a bit more room for speculation.

Bronze Glimmer Glass

BGG was described by Finney as being used for 'bookshop scenes', but after S2 back numerous times and paying as much attention as I could to the lighting and colouring of the scenes, I think this is generally true but not always true. There are times when bookshop scenes seem to use a different filter, and other locations also seem to be shot with the BGG filter as well. I think BGG aligns with Aziraphale's POV. Or if Not Aziraphale, an outside-of-Crowley narrator? Based on the scenes (which we'll specifically get into in other posts) which BGG seems to be used, context clues, character behavior, etc, I think BGG clues us in that we're seeing, if you will, through Aziraphale's eyes.

Black Diffusion FX

BDFX was described as being used for 'Crowley's present day storyline' and fuck me, that's not ominous or weirdly phrased at all Mr. Finney! This filter definitely aligns with Crowley. Most of the time he's separate from Aziraphale it seems that this is the filter being used, and certain scenes switch filters mid-scene when he begins to go off on snarky Crowley-centric commentary.

Catch-22 & Herzog

The books on Gabriels bookshelf, great books obviously, but I think books that are also meant to give us context about the story. Pride and Prejudice is a love story about making snap judgements on someone's character, and coming to recognize somebody might be good despite their title or appearance. The Crow Road is a story about life, death, love, morality, mystery, and God. 1984 details the tragedy of Julia and Winston's attempt at falling in love while living under in a police state. You see my point?

That's why I wanted to touch a bit more on Catch-22 and Herzog specifically when talking about the possibility of changing narrators/POV's in Good Omens 2.

Catch-22 frequently switches narrator and the events described are often not necessarily sequential. This way you're getting information about previous scenes as the story continues, so while you're reading the book you're forming a more complete image of the events as the story continues from different characters POV's and iterations of the story. Sound relevant?

Herzog is the other book I wanted to talk about. To be fair I haven't read Herzog in full like I have Catch-22 but I pulled out my copy to reference and flip through a bit to remind myself. Herzog unlike Catch-22 doesn't switch narrators but the narration by the main character, Herzog himself, switches between first and third person throughout. When he is narrating through his letters, you get a deeper look at his thought processes and emotions. It also relies on flashbacks to bring context to the life of Herzog.

While these books touch on other elements that are relevant to the Good Omens story, namely Yossarian's relationship and views of God in Catch-22, the way these stories are told intrigued me for this context.

Crowley's Hair

Yeah I'm gonna mention the hair, because I think the hair is linked. Crowley's shorter sideburns, trimmed mutton chops in the 1827 flashback, and shorter Job wig seem to be clearly aligned with the BDFX filter/Crowley's POV as far as I can tell. I don't know if this means it's just another way to denote POV, but it seems way too consistent not to mention it. The longer sideburns, fuller mutton chops, and longer Job wig all match up with Aziraphale's POV or the BGG filter. My thoughts here are that his hair is another hint of who may be relaying the information to us, AKA is it internal or external. I am making my best guesses though and there are still some situations that I feel less sure about. For example, when Aziraphale takes the Bentley to Edinburgh and Crowley is in the Bookshop with Jim his sideburns are long, is it because he's remembering these scenes unreliably? Is Aziraphale imagining the events? Is it because Jim is present? A brief fluttering thought I toy with from time to time is the fact that in the before-the-beginning scene they are long, and what that means in context of the rest of the season.

S2 Promo Posters

Finally this set of season 2 promo posters showing the characters thoughtfully considering scenes in their heads just gives me a lot of these POV vibes.

I'm planning on doing individual posts for specific scenes, episodes, and minisodes that require detailed breakdowns. I'll update this list with links as the posts are finished!

POV "Your 'Something's Wrong' Voice"

POV a Trip to Hell and a 25 Lazarii Miracle

POV a Companion to Owls

POV The Dirty Donkey & I think I Found a *Clue*!

POV Bodysnatchers & Cosplaying a bookseller

POV 1941

POV The Ball

POV The End?

Whose POV is it Anyway - a Conclusion

[cinnamonest]

With this whole 'rape fantasies are a result of misogyny as they allow women a guilt free sexuality cos they have no autonomy'

Surely that means your writing and fantasies are contributing to misogyny? Adding to it and normalising it?

Like isnt the answer to write and encourage fantasies of empowerment? Not abuse and rape?

Just seems crazy to me like 'we do this because of misogyny. And we'll keep doing it'

Obviously some behaviour come from misogyny and exist to combat it. This... really doesn't

I just don't think it's a feminist win when your writing is indistinguishable from that of a misogynistic man's.

This isnt an attack on you it just really seems like common sense that if something exists because of misogyny the last thing we should do is feed into those ideas

(I assume this is coming from this post, so I might reference that a bit here)

No worries, I fully understand how this can come across negative to those who do not have the same experiences and I appreciate you approaching the matter in a non-attacking way with genuine desire to have dialogue on the subject. I'll do my best to address these points individually.

>Surely that means your writing and fantasies are contributing to misogyny? Adding to it and normalising it?

In the past few years fandom culture has become a bit obsessed with the idea of "normalization" to the point that the definition of the term has been a bit skewed, which creates issues with these discussions.

There is no concept of which existence of content containing it alone constitutes normalization, by the actual definition of the word. Normalization is the process by which it is distributed and way in which it is presented, and intent of its creation.

Normalization via fiction is a process in which a creator, generally intentionally, creates content that presents a concept as, well, normal. That is, not reprehensible or problematic to replicate, and presents this to a population with the intent of them accepting the idea as something acceptable in reality. Generally it also necessitates that the creator will try to ensure the media is viewed by mainstream general audiences who would not normally seek the content out, since the purpose of normalization is to make an idea acceptable amongst a population.

That is the opposite of what I am doing, which is creating a private space filled with warnings. I am going out of my way to ensure that people who do not want to see this content, have the foreknowledge to opt to avoid it.

By definition, if you’re creating content and ensuring that it is heavily warned, and marketing it as such that only a niche group who likes such content seeks it out, that’s not normalization by any reasonable metric.

>Like isnt the answer to write and encourage fantasies of empowerment? Not abuse and rape?

For some people, I’m sure that would help them, and in that case, that is a great solution for them.

But people are different, and certain things that help some, don’t help others. The types of fantasies that would probably be called “empowering,” personally do nothing for me but make me uncomfortable, in the same way that the sort of content I write makes some people uncomfortable. It does not have the same positive effects on my mental health that this form of content does.

>Obviously some behaviour come from misogyny and exist to combat it. This... really doesn't

That's fair — but it doesn't have to.

It is not intended to directly combat misogyny in any way, there are other ways to do that, and this does not have to be one. It's primary purpose is catharsis and the ways in which it benefits me and, as is my hope, those who choose to consume it.

>I just don't think it's a feminist win when your writing is indistinguishable from that of a misogynistic man's.

Again, I never had any intention for it to be a "win" — misogyny is the reason for why I have these desires, but in making what I make, my purpose is to provide catharsis for myself and others.

But also, I would heavily contest that it is indistinguishable from male fantasies. As someone who has seen actual men's misogynist fetishization fantasies, they are very different.

Female disposability and the complete worthlessness of women’s very being — that is, women being non-human objects that are interchangeable, and made to be used temporarily and replaced — is the core defining characteristic of male fantasy/sexuality. Male fantasies almost always involve multiple women to one man, largely because he does not have any actual bond with women, they are items to be collected, no interpersonal relationship actually exists.

The lack of interpersonal connection and lack of personableness itself is fetishized by men, what men get off to is the power they feel from completely disregarding the woman as a person in any way. The very act of the woman being thrown away after being used is fetishized.

In male fantasy, there is no interpersonal connection or affection of any kind, whereas that is one of the defining themes of content like mine.

Tl;dr — while misogyny impacts all women, the severity and form of it in different upbringings, environments and cultures can create misunderstandings and strong reactions when different people react so differently to the same content and thus form misconceptions about each other's perceptions and intentions, but I believe both sides of this argument are usually coming from a place of good intent.

While I fully understand how it would be difficult for those who do not have the same experience to grasp mine, I just ask for mutual understanding that some forms of content help some people, in the same way entirely different forms of content help other people.