#concerning stories

[guildofscribes]

Why the Good Ones?

Okay, so I've been watching the fandom culture for a while now, and I have a question; why are they breaking the good characters? Like, the characters that were built to be not so dark, to be more upright, morally accountable, who have it in their character makeup to just always try to do the right thing because that's what they believe in from the deepest parts of their being... why are they being broken down? There are already very awesome characters that we love who struggle with morally upright decisions, who struggle to make the right choices for some reason or another, and we mostly can all agree to respect and enjoy those characters and their arcs. They're characters created to struggle, and so many of us can get behind that because we struggle to make good choices all the time too. But why are the "model" characters being broken down into something base and detestable? Why can't we have Superman who chooses to do the right thing because it's the right thing to do, who is Clark Kent and chooses to be kind and give chances and hope for the better? Why does he have to be broken from the ideal we're supposed to strive for? He's an alien who saw the best of humanity and said, "Yes! I want to be this! They're so worthy, they have so much potential to be amazing, and I want to be all of that because I choose to! Because there's worth in that decision, and I'm free to make it because of these amazing creatures on this planet." Why can't we have morally upright characters who just try to treat people right and make good choices? I thought that was the point. I thought we were supposed to strive to be better than our faults, not just sit in the wreckage of our own bad choices. What happened to stories that inspire people to be better than their current state, to treat people the way you'd want to be treated, to do everything to the best of your ability because it's building you up as a person and not just doing a banal task? I understand the use for catharsis, writing tragedies that don't have an easy out, writing grim and dark realities... I get it. I really, really do. But where are the hopeful stories? Where are the Actually Good characters that are still engaging? What happened to defining our faults, but then working very hard to overcome them? It seems like those stories aren't being put out there anymore, and it's depressing.

It's not cool to be good anymore. It's not popular to try to be selfless, to make difficult decisions because they're right and because you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you didn't. It's not fun to believe in Good and Evil, that maybe the shades of grey aren't so overreaching that you can't try to do the right thing all the time.

What happened to just, deciding to be a better person? For the sake of just being a better person? I don't know. Maybe holding oneself accountable to a higher standard is silly. But it gives me hope.

[chloesimaginationthings]

Jeremiah and Mike’s first conversation in FNAF 2

[regonold]

John doesn't summon Infinite realms beings for a few reasons but the main reason and the biggest reason he doesn't summon realms beings is the way they look at him

They look at him specifically like they can see all the mistakes he's ever made every error every deal they look at him with... pity

And what's worse is they offer to help him they ask sounding so concerned if he's alright and needs help and it just... freaks him out

And now the bloddy justice league decided to include a powerful realms ghost a position and he needs to be their due to no one else in the JLD being available

And the first thing out of the bastards mouth is "are you ok" bloody fantastic

Or

Due to John's soul contracts his soul is fractured and ghosts sensing his soul are so concerned a soul shouldn't be like that and are asking if he's ok

But john is not used to genuine concern so he's freaked out especially by beings who can kill him in a second flat and he's so mistrustful of it

[bunnieswithknives]

Does anyone else other than hazel end up finding out abt dev’ prosthetic?do Winn and jasmine find out?

Eventually he does get comfortable enough to let other people see it, he still refuses to tell anyone what happened though.

[snowyfrostshadows]

So.

We went from this for Starclan Cats:

To.

This:

Biggest downgrade of my life.

[edennill]

Topics of conversation among the elven party come to visit Minas Tirith for Aragorn and Arwen's wedding:

Whether the paintings and tapestries of legendary events made by the city's denizens are accurate

Whether Glorfindel should be shown tapestries depicting his fall

Balrogs don't look like that

Whether Osgiliath really was as pretty as they say

Whether Osgiliath or Annuminas was prettier

Whether the Rohirrim resemble the house of Hador much

Whether Aredhel would have gotten on well with Eowyn (difficult question because on the one hand - gestures at everything - and on the other: Aredhel was a difficult person at times, had never met one of the secondborn and would likely have mortally offended the other within ten minutes)

Another Gondorian woman looking a bit like Lúthien

Why do Lúthien look-alikes turn up generations upon generations after Elros

Does Minas Tirith feature too many stone walls and too little greenery

Is there something wrong with the Noldor for not minding being cooped up within stone walls

There having still been far more greenery in Tirion last time the exiles had been there (7000 years ago)

Whether Tirion was much changed when Glorfindel last saw it (3000 years ago)

Whether Gondorians naming their children after Túrin of all people is taking things a bit too far

Whether an inkeeper should be informed his prized family heirloom is an elvish dinner knife

Whether a courtier should be informed his prized family heirloom had been made by Curufin because on the one hand he might consider it cool, and on the other hand - Curufin

Whether a certain type of cake should best be eaten hot or cold

Can you use osanwë accidentally and is it cheating if it happens while you're playing bridge

[otrtbs]

“i don’t like jegulus but…”

my sibling in christ what the fuck are you doing on my jegulus fic/blog???

[cinamun]

Our dad | Next

[ahaura]

im sure its been said already but as the election draws near more and more liberals will come out of the woodwork to shame people with a conscience to give away their vote to the democrats for free. i'm already seeing posts saying "why aren't people more concerned about a trump presidency?" you want to know why? it's because people already know he's bad. everyone already knows what he is and what he's done and what he'll do. there's nothing to discuss. he's a racist despotic worm of a man. there's nothing else to say.

biden is currently president. the genocide is happening under his watch. he's the one funding isra*l and arming them; he's sidestepped congress more than once to give them weapons. by oct. 27, the biden administration already knew that "Israel was regularly bombing buildings without solid intelligence that they were legitimate military targets." the state department/biden have engaged in atrocity propaganda, cast doubt on the legitimacy of the death toll recorded by the gaza health ministry, and so on. the united states is currently in the process of trying to pin the "war in gaza" on netanyahu (see sen. schumer's speech) after months of backing blatant genocide as a means to act as if they're "doing something" about the genocide (Instead of, say, threatening to cut off all aid to israel with the condition that all hostilities in gaza, the west bank, and occupied jerusalem are halted immediately and permanently, allowing palestinians freedom to travel, allowing aid into gaza, etc etc etc.)

the long and short of it is that liberals view their own lives as being worth more than palestinians'. that's it. they'll vote for another 4 years of the guy ushering in genocide and supporting apartheid + settler colonialism because he isn't outright attacking them (despite various laws and rulings happening both at the supreme court level and at the local level all over the country that will endanger people). they'll settle for the illusion of safety and security and shame anyone with a conscience and accuse them of "supporting the republicans" when in an actual democracy you would be able to use your vote as leverage to extract concessions from those who want to be elected. that's how it's supposed to fucking work.

democrats are not owed people's vote. if biden loses, it will be biden's fault; it will be his campaign's fault; it will be the democrats' fault. trump is bad; the republicans are bad. we already know this. this is not an endorsement of either. but if democrats are too cowardly and feckless and servile to the motivations of the american empire and never do anything for their constituents then why the fuck should anyone vote for them. you want to get mad at someone, why don't you do something useful and stop worrying about team-sports with a purely selfish basis and start hounding the people in power who are supposed to serve you, the voter.

[guildofscribes]

Humans are Weird: Caution and Lack Thereof.

Humans are not incredibly “tough” insofar as physical makeup goes in this universe, but humans ARE known for stubbornness/tenacity/whatever-you-want-to-call-it, and general acceptance of their bad decision-making abilities, which calls for measures to keep their unwieldy meat-sacks mostly alive and generally functioning.  When any of another species boards Human transports, they are always blown away by the safety precautions posted everywhere, the failsafes, the evacuation maps tucked everywhere, the plethora of escape pods and emergency buoys, life support systems and backup life support systems... not that the rest of the galaxies don't have safety measures and emergency failsafes, but they don't have as many as Humanity seems to have agreed on putting literally everywhere. Which is a bit odd when one takes into consideration that their vessels are literally pressurized vessels propelled by controlled explosions, the destruction of matter, or literal world-killing substances that are pressurized and used for fuel. Humans will hurl themselves into space using some of the most dangerous methods logged in the history of the universe, to the great endangerment of their lives and those in proximity of their craft if some system fails...

...but they have also planned for and created multiple options for continued survival should any thing indeed go wrong, along a wide variety of potential catastrophes.

To every science-oriented, non-Terran species in the galaxy, this “will to live” and “radiation of dumbass” is an ongoing study. Mainly because the humans keep spreading, and nobody knows just what to do with them. 

[cubbihue]

“He knows Timmy will come around eventually. It's only a matter of waiting for his clock to run out. And HP is very patient.” Hey uh.. WHAT DOES THAT MEAN HIS CLOCK TO RUN OUT is he waiting for Timmy to become a full fairy (Pixie?) and when that happens Timmy forgets about being a human entirely?

Sometimes Timmy wonders why he has grudges against certain fairies. Some of them, he can understand- like his dislike of Dr. Rip Studwell. But other ones, like with Cupid, it's a bit of a blur.

He must've been a very very vindictive 10 year old! Ah, well! Timmy's learned that he has to pick and choose his own battles wisely.

And uh. Fighting with the man who decides his paycheck and vacation days is not a battle worth choosing. Talk about a hostile work environment!!

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [You Are Here]

[ASKED ARE CLOSED]

[thelonelyempath]

Concerned/Worried Prompts

1. “Baby, please respond.”

2. “Do you need me to get you anything?”

3. “I need to know that you’re okay.”

4. “Call me when you see this.”

5. “Why are you crying?”

6. “Talk to me.”

7. “You know you can tell me anything.”

8. “I’m here for you, my love.”

9. “Don’t lie to me.”

10. “Where have you been?!  I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for three hours!”

11. “Eventually you’re gonna have to tell me what’s on your mind.”

12. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

13. “I’ll stay with you.”

14. “I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

15. “I thought something had happened to you.”

16. “Come here.”

17. “Hey, is everything okay?”

18. “What’s on your mind, love?”

19. “Have you eaten anything?”

20. “What are you afraid of?”

21. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

22. “You’re never this quiet.”

23. “Did I do something to upset you?”

24. “Please open the door.”

25. “I’m here to listen when you’re ready to talk.”

[shit-people-probably-didnt-say]

Wylan: Its so funny being called ‘manipulative’ by a parent when you’re a child. Like? I cant manipulate you, Im 8

Jesper: 😟

Colm: 😨

[nocontext4077th]

[paradoxbeta]

I'm curious, how would your Suns design look during more serious situations, such as one of the Spearmaster broadcasts?

something like this

and now for a (slightly long) addendum: i know i depict SRS as jokey and kooky, but when it comes to not shitposting and actual characterization, i have Thoughts and Feelings about them. the entire story, they just want to do what they hope will help the people around them, even though it all ends up horribly, HORRIBLY wrong. that's tragic, and it has my interest. considering the heaviness (and intrigue) of SRS’s storyline, for me to only ever depict them as a goofball be way too shallow of me, and unfaithful to their canon characterization.

so to answer your question: they hold themselves together, of course, but the shame, regret, and embarrassment is still evident.

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Without the levels of ectoplasm Amity Park has, the rest of the world was filled with other, weaker forms of ‘ghosts’ called shades. Danny finds his purpose of protecting comes in all kinds of forms. This is useful when he finds a challenge in Gotham.

Warning: violence, murder, probably something else. Proceed with caution.

Danny has noticed when he left Amity Park and went to places that didn’t have ambient ectoplasm, he saw lots of shades. They were outlines of the people they once were, mere shadows of themselves. It wasn’t a soul per se. He was close to believing his parents when they said ghosts were just impressions of emotions in ectoplasm.

These shades couldn’t really hold a conversation with him, if they even noticed he was speaking to them. Some mumbled things under their breath, some moaned or screamed randomly, and others didn’t utter a sound. What he figured out over time was that they were actually attached to things or people. Not like a child is attached to their favorite toy, but physically couldn’t go far from whatever it was.

He’s seen shades attached to the places they died in, or perhaps a favorite object that was important to them, but the most interesting were the shades attached to people.

It was a small game of his to figure out who that person was to the shade. A child, a caretaker, a friend. He once saw a nurse who had some shades following her with smiles. It became less fun when he found his first serial killer. It was an older man carrying an oxygen tank behind him and surrounded by at least half a dozen young women shades. They wore expressions of sadness and anger and fear. He could recognize trauma when he sees it. Danny just stood frozen for a while, just watching this man pull out his oxygen to smoke a cigarette. He didn’t really know how to feel other than a cold fury that made his mind worryingly quiet.

“Whatchu lookin at, boy?” The old man snapped.

Danny just stared back into the dark and arrogant eyes. Then he looked up to the women who blinked back.

“You will have him soon. Then you can rest.”

They seem to understand, turning again to stare at the back of the man’s head with such expressions any other person seeing them would have screamed and run away as fast as they could. Danny did neither.

“Who you talking to?”

Danny stares back at the man who shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

“You’ll see soon enough,” he answers coldly before turning and walking away.

That was the first of more than he cared to find. Some he approached. Some he just stared at knowingly, watching the killers squirm under his intense gaze. Some he had to restrain himself from killing to avenge the victims hovering over their shoulder. One or two he didn’t hold himself back. His first was a woman actually, with children and toddlers clinging to her back like they didn’t understand how else to process what she did to them other than by staying close.

Danny followed her home. She ran a daycare from it. He couldn’t let it happen again. She wasn’t as old as the man with the oxygen tank, she had several more years before she died naturally. He needed to end it then. And he did.

He didn’t say one word to her or answer any of her angry questions as he plunged his hand into her chest and squeezed. Her heart burst like a water balloon and he cringed at the feeling. She died quickly and he waited for her shade to form.

When it did, the children didn’t know what to do. They were innocents, they weren’t like the young women waiting for their killer to die so they could rip him to shreds viciously. They hovered and flicked around excitedly. And when her shade finally formed and predictably turned on the children, snapping and reaching out with clawed hands to quiet them permanently, Danny stepped in to protect, like he always did. He bit and tore until there was nothing left.

He had seen shades and ghosts ‘move on’ before. Where they finally felt like they didn’t have to stay and they just faded contently, going where Danny couldn’t follow. Seeing all of the children disappear with laughs and smiles was the most bittersweet experience he could remember.

He cried himself to sleep that night.

So after traveling for a while and stumbling upon a glum city with far too many shades, he was a little overwhelmed. Never before had he seen so many in one place, other than the Zone of course. He couldn’t just leave, he needed to help as many as he could. For the first time in a rough while, Danny settled into one place, Gotham.

Over a couple weeks he helped as many as he could while working at some fast food place during the day and a weird bar at night.

Things were busy but manageable until one evening he was kidnapped and held hostage along with a dozen other people in some mad man’s scheme. He wasn’t particularly invested, knowing the Bats were going to come save them, that is until he actually saw the man, or more specifically the number of shades surrounding the man. This was Joker. It had to be. He never had a face to the name until today, but the shades that he spoke to the gave half answers to exactly three questions before becoming disinterested about half the time brought up Joker. Even the ones that weren’t in the building, must have been killed by this man. He wasn’t just a serial killer, he was a mass murderer.

Danny knew what he had to do.

With the Joker’s goons distracted with his presentation, the clown laughing into a camera that was apparently live, it wasn’t hard to escape his bonds and then borrow a gun he ‘found’.

He took aim.

“Boss, behind you!” One of the men shouted from behind the camera.

Joker turns with a wide grin and Danny doesn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

Three shots ring out in the open space, the other hostages scream, and the goons shout urgently. Three holes are now in the Joker’s chest, the purple suit slowly staining an ugly brown. The Joker falls, allowing the camera (and everyone watching) to show the face of the teenage murderer.

Danny doesn’t even notice, his wide eyes on the body, gun pointed to the floor. He watches the beginnings of a shade form and he can feel more shades gather around with anticipation.

A window shatters before the goons can figure out what to do now that their employer is dead. They run as the Bats descend upon them, one freeing the hostages and another directing them outside where it’s safe.

The shade is almost formed and Danny catches himself from leaning in with the rest of the shades. They weren’t victims right now, they were hungry wolves prepared to bite and rip and tear apart.

“Hey, kid, I’m gonna need you to hand that over okay? You’re safe now, no one’s gonna hurt you,” Danny hears one of the vigilantes tell him, slowly moving closer.

Danny doesn’t pay the man any mind, not even twitching in his direction. The shade was formed. It was whole and disgusting and ugly. The rest of what made up the Joker started to laugh. Just that awful noise triggered the other shades into action, flying so fast at the grinning face the shade chokes and that ear-piercing laugh turned into a scream.

Danny feels the cold metal be removed from his loose grip at his side. That’s okay, he didn’t need it anymore. The monster was being slain right in front of him. He was glad he didn’t have to intervene like he had to with the children, Danny didn’t want to touch that thing.

“He’s in shock,” the vigilante says to someone else.

“Let Gordon take care of it. Zip tie his hands, he might be a danger to himself or others when he snaps out of it,” came a different voice, younger.

“Red,” the man hisses. “He’s a kid. He’s just scared.”

“Scared people do dumb things, N.”

Danny hears a sigh before his numb hands are gently tugged behind his back and he hears the shick of plastic tighten around his wrists. He doesn’t bother struggling as he’s more preoccupied watching the scene end as there is nothing left of the clown shade to tear apart anymore. The shades all around seem to settle and accept what just happened. Their murderer was gone. They were finally free.

One by one they started disappearing into the Aftermore until the effect was exponential. More and more until he couldn’t see any anymore, but he could feel shades fading throughout the whole city.

Danny doesn’t really remember what happened after that, too focused on the change in atmosphere all throughout Gotham. He could feel it, feel them.

Maybe he was in shock like the guy said. One minute he’s staring at the body of the man he killed on shaky knees and then the next time he blinks he’s in a chair in the police station, metal handcuffs keeping him to the table and an older gentleman with a grey mustache in the seat opposite him.

The man looks at him from over his glasses.

“You with me, kid?”

Danny nods.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

Danny stares back.

“I shot the Joker,” he answers simply.

The man nods.

“Do you understand that he is dead?”

Danny blinks.

“I’d be concerned if he wasn’t.”

The man pauses and then shrugs a nod.

“That’s fair.” He looks at the teenager and sighs heavily. “My name is Commissioner Jim Gordon. I am in charge of this case and I need your statement of what happened. We already did this but I don’t think you were all there, so I’m going to read your Miranda rights again, okay?”

Danny nods and then listens to the man recite words that he says he understands. He tells Mr. Gordon what he knew and what happened (withholding the pieces of information that were ghostly) and then signs a piece of paper that reiterates what he just explained as well as a confession that he shot and killed the man known as Joker in the act of being a Good Samaritan as well as self defense.

All of this was just legality. Mr. Gordon assured him no one was actually going to prosecute him, not even the state to be honest, for the Joker’s murder. In the eyes of pretty much the rest of the city and the world, it was a public service.

It was unfortunate he couldn’t just go home after that. No, of course Mr. Gordon found out Danny didn’t have parents (that he knew of) and legally couldn’t just release him back to the abandoned hotel where he lives alone. Danny works, he has money for food and the laundry mat, he doesn’t really need anything else.

It would have been as simple as handing him over to one of the boy’s homes if, you know, Danny wasn’t the one to kill the most hated man in Gotham.

So Mr. Gordon calls someone and Danny sits tight, drinking a soda and eating some chips, both from the vending machine. He was just glad his handcuffs were off.

Danny has been at the station for hours by the time Mr. Gordon comes back with a well dressed man who was tall and big. Honestly the guy kinda reminds him of his dad. Danny represents a shiver.

“Son, this is Bruce Wayne. He’s taken in a couple other boys in their time of need. I think you’ll find you’ll fit in well with his many children,” the Commissioner explains with a tight smile.

Danny tilts his head, looking behind the man to the man and woman duo who hold hands while staring at the man lovingly. He parents probably from the rumors. Maybe he’ll try talking to them later.

“Wayne as in like The Bruce Wayne? Like Wayne Enterprises?”

The man smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Yes, that Bruce Wayne. Nice to meet you, Daniel.”

“It’s Danny. Just Danny.”

“My butler, Alfred, just made some cookies. If we’re lucky, there will still be some left over.”

Danny perks up. Sweet! Cookies!

“You have a butler? Wack. But cookies are a yes. Let’s go! Are we done, Mr. Gordon?”

Mr. Wayne seems to blink at his easy behavior, like he was surprised Danny was so okay after just killing a man. Mr. Gordon just smiles at him, but Danny can see the concern in his eyes.

“You can go, but remember you have mandatory therapy that Mr. Wayne will make sure you get to. It’s only for three months but more sessions will be added on if you don’t cooperate so keep that in mind,” the man warns.

Danny gives the man a two finger salute.

“Roger roger!” He turns to Mr. Wayne. “Can we go now?”

“Sure.”

Turns out Alfred the butler left aside two delicious chocolate chip cookies for him. He munches on them as he observes the others in the house, but mostly the shades attached to them and the feeling of death-touched from a few of them. The one the feeling was coming from the most is the first to hug him tightly and thank him for killing the Joker.

Oh.

“Was he the one that killed you?” Danny asks without thinking it through.

The arms tighten around him and there is a collective silence as the words register. Then lots and lots of questions and suspicious looks.

It was a very long night.