#how to write real places in writing

[starry-bi-sky]

(Part of this post with older brother danyal al ghul)

...Okay, look. Sam knows she's staring. She knows very well that she is staring. And that if she doesn't stop staring it's gonna draw her unwanted attention, and that will only have to make her explain why she's staring. Which she doesn't want to do.

She's trying not to stare, which she thinks she should get brownie points for. She tries to look away, to find a spot on the wall to stare lifelessly at, maybe she can burn holes into some of these annoying socialites' heads. But eventually her eyes drift, and suddenly she's back to staring again.

Can you blame her though? Damian Wayne looks like a very close mini-me of her fucking best friend. Seriously, it's like looking into a mirror to the past. If that mirror to the past had green eyes rather than blue and a distinctive lack of a facial scar.

The first time she sees him when her parents drag her over to Bruce Wayne to butter up to him she has to do a doubletake. Then a triple take. Then a quadruple take, just for good measure that she was seeing what she was actually seeing. She was sure she looked like one of those stress toys that when squeezed had their eyes pop out comically like a Saturday morning cartoon, that's what she certainly felt like anyways.

Look, Danny's come a decent way from being that scowl-y, jerkish little ten year old she first met when he arrived like the wind to Amity Park five years ago (even if he was still occasionally scowl-y and jerkish), but one thing that's stayed the same is how reserved he is about his home life prior to being taken in by the Fentons.

He doesn't talk about it much, and Sam's come to know that he's very good at changing the subject when it gets brought up. Even after being friends for nearly four years, the only thing she and Tuck know for certain is that he has a little brother that he refers to as 'starlight', whom he cares a lot about but left on really bad terms with. And that he's never met his father, but wants to and knows who he is.

He's never told her or Tucker who he was though, and glancing at Bruce Wayne, Sam is realizing why. She can begrudgingly acknowledge all the good he's done for Gotham, but... well, if Danny told her that Bruce Wayne was his dad, she wouldn't have believed him at all.

But she's starting to see the resemblance, as subtle as it is.

And she sees the resemblance to Damian Wayne, her eyes dropping back down to him as he wears a very Danny-like scowl on his face, arms crossed behind his back as his eyes swept around the ballroom. He was five years younger than Danny, and god it was so, so weird.

His eyes turned on to her, and they locked gazes for a moment.

Involuntarily, Sam makes a startled noise and looks away. Fingers tap against her purse, black and purple and unfortunately a clutch that only held her phone and her wallet in it. She would have kept a knife on her, but her parents put their foot down and there was a security detail at the door. Only in Gotham.

Silently, she was hoping that the little Danny-me didn't say anything. Or at least, he hadn't noticed her staring. Which was a tall order if she ever heard one -- and unfortunately, her silent prayers went unanswered as her mother's eyes dropped down onto her.

"Did you say something, Samantha?" She asks in a sickeningly sweet voice, a sound that makes Sam's skin crawl. Her dad and Bruce Wayne's attention also turns onto her, and she glowers at her mom from the corner of her eye.

"I didn't say anything." Sam says, barely keeping her tone polite as she turned her head away. Her mother clucks her tongue, disapproving, but from her peripherals doesn't pester her more

Bruce Wayne, the bastard, takes that time to turn to Sam and grace her with his dime-a-dozen billboard smiles. "I've been talking with your parents this whole time, Miss Manson, you must be terribly bored. How is your schooling going?"

Sam eyes him up and down. On one hand, she immediately wants to be snarky. It's none of his business what her school life is like, she doesn't care for his fucking small talk.

On the other hand, this was Danny's whole father. Someone who she knows that Danny has wanted to meet for, what she's assuming, his whole life. He's never brought it up much, but she remembers that very quiet, solemn conversation she and Tucker had with him where he admits to having never met his dad. But god does he want to.

And... wait. Sam's eyes narrow, and she meets Bruce Wayne's eyes. Does this man even know Danny exists? She drops her gaze down to Damian, who was staring at her suspiciously, and then back up to Bruce, and she alternates between them.

Why was Damian living with Bruce, but not Danny? Why hasn't Bruce done anything to reach out to him - what was going on with Danny's biological family that Danny had to be separated from them, but not Damian? Danny's always been kinda mysterious, but now things weren't adding up.

Was Danny given up? Does Bruce just not want Danny, but wanted Damian? Why the fuck does Bruce Wayne know about Damian but not her best friend -- or does he know and just not care? He's fought for custody for his adoptive kids before, does he just not want to fight for his other biological son? Does he think Danny's not worth it?

She's never cared much about the Wayne family before, other than to hear about the advancements on WE's eco-friendly tech, but Sam thinks she's gonna have to look into why Damian Wayne was living with the Waynes.

Slowly, with a protective anger beginning to burn in her gut and crawl up her throat, a scowl slowly curls at the corner of her lip as she redirects her glare from her mother onto Bruce. "It's going fine," She says curtly, jutting her chin out defiantly. "Me and my friend Danny started a petition to fix the leaky faucets in the girls and boys' bathrooms in order to conserve more water for the rest of the city."

She eyes his face, waiting to see if anything like recognition flashes through it. And- and nothing. Sam breathes in slowly through her nose, trying to quell the red that's blurring the edge of her vision -- does he just, not know where Danny is?

Her parents however, make vaguely displeased expressions. "Our Samantha is... quite passionate about her pet projects." Her dad says, laughing low and nervously, "she's very vocal about silly things like that."

"Her friend Daniel is perhaps even worse than she is sometimes." Her mother adds on, fanning her face with her perfectly manicured hands with a sigh. "I swear, he's the one that keeps dragging her into these things."

Sam's anger turns on its head, and she whirls on her heel like a fire-breathing dragon. "It's Danyal." It rolls out like instinct. Danny's told them both that he hates the Americanized pronunciation of his name, but in a rare moment of restraint, puts up with it for reasons unknown to her. "And Danny doesn't make me do anything, it was my idea."

The name, Danyal, seems to ring some kind of bell in Brucie Wayne's head, because she sees him and Damian quietly perk up like two cats pricking up their ears. Her eyes flick onto him immediately, something dangerous rearing its head. So Bruce Wayne knows about Danny. And he's not reaching out to him. Is he? She's not sure.

She does know that she's gonna rip his throat out if she finds out that he's known about Danny this entire time and has been ignoring him while favoring his little brother. She'll hunt down Aragon herself and steal his dragon-shifting amulet and wreck house on Bruce Wayne if that's the case. Batman and his league of vigilantes be damned. Her parents don't notice her slowly turning head towards Bruce.

But Bruce does, and she makes direct eye contact with him. His smile doesn't falter, he just tilts his head like a curious puppy and looks at Sam's parents. She hopes Bruce can read minds, she hopes he can hear her threatening him.

"Danyal?" He asks, and Sam doesn't know if she hates the fact that he said it correctly or not. She just continues burning holes into him and hoping he might spontaneously combust.

Her mother waves her hand dismissively, tilting her nose up poshly into the air. "Our dear Samantha's little... foster friend from school," she says, not even bothering to hide her disdain, "a creepy little boy with the most garish scar on his face. He's a rude little thing, not good for polite company."

Scratch that, Sam mentally alternates between ripping into her parents and Bruce. She whirls on them. "Do not talk about Danny that way." She all but snarls, and they all but ignore her.

(She's tearing up the upholstery when she gets home. She's going to paint over the fine china. She's going to do something to make them pay for this.)

"Oh yes, he was taken in by that freaky Fenton family a few years ago." Her dad continues in lieu of her mom, and they both shake their heads disapprovingly. "It's just what our city needs, another menace."

"Danny is not a menace." Sam continues, raising her voice while her hands shake with rage. Her parents finally look at her, but she can already tell that they're going to scold her for raising her voice. She bulldozes over them and jabs her black-painted finger at them. "He's got a bigger heart than the both of you combined."

"Samantha, please." her mom says, exasperated. They both give her disapproving looks, Sam thinks about grabbing champagne off the tray of a nearby waiter and throwing it in their faces. "You defend that boy far too much. What do you actually know about him and his family?"

Sam sets her jaw, puffing herself up like a dragon protecting its hoard. She steps into her mom's space. "I know that he loves the stars; you can ask him anything about astronomy and he could give you an entire lecture on the formation, class types, and various gasses that stars are made up of. He can tell you how the Earth was formed, he can tell you about the visible light spectrum and about light curves, and a whole ton of other stuff that I don't really understand. But Danny loves talking about it."

Her face twists and scowls, "I know he cares a ton about the environment and about fixing light pollution, and preserving the forests and natural habitats of animals." She nearly jabs her finger into her mom's chest, "I know he loves dogs, and that there's one he feeds every day on the way to school that he calls Cujo, its a St. Bernard puppy and Danny carries him around whenever he sees him after school, and is in the middle of training him."

It's not a total lie, but it's not the whole truth either. Cujo doesn't need food, but Danny gives him it anyways. "I know he likes spicy food and loves movies but specifically only sci-fi and horror, and he hates most martial arts movies. His favorite superhero is the Martian Manhunter, but Batman comes in at a close second." For reasons to her that were pretty unknown, but it didn't matter.

"I know he loves wordplay and making puns, which I would have never expected from him when we first met, but it's so unbelievably Danny-like that I can't imagine him not making puns." And she smiles a little to herself, she remembers the first time Danny intentionally made a pun once and it got startled laughs out of both her and Tucker.

Her smile suddenly falters, and she swallows. Her lips purse up, wobbling, and she very quickly glances over to Damian Wayne, of whom is watching her with a vaguely bewildered expression alongside Bruce.

She turns her eyes back onto her parents. "And I know that he worries a lot, even if he has a shit way of showing it. I know he had a little brother that he hasn't seen since he was adopted by the Fentons, and he doesn't talk about him often but when he does he he calls him 'starlight'." From the corner of her eye, she sees Damian jerk.

"So- so, so what if he's not 'good for polite company'." Sam's voice, embarrassingly, cracks down the middle. But she's so angry over Danny's behalf that she doesn't really care. "Or that he can be mean, and critical, and stubborn. He's learning, and he's becoming kinder by the day. That's more than I can say about you."

(She remembers when Danny finally admitted to her and Tucker being his 'closest friends'. It was sometime before the portal incident, and it felt like a milestone because beforehand he only really referred to them as his companions or allies.)

(At the time, he'd looked unsure of himself. Skittish like a stray in the back of an alleyway, almost shy in his own way. It had come out stilted, slow, like an infant taking its first steps, and it would have been endearing if it hadn't been heartbreaking.)

Her parents rear back like she'd struck them, and her mother holds a hand against her chest in aghast. Sam doesn't care, she blinks the sting out of her eyes. "Samantha." Her mother starts.

Sam cuts her off, "I don't care what you have to say, you-- you pricks." she snaps, around her, there are gasps. Belatedly, she realizes she's grown an audience, but again she doesn't care. "Danny might be an asshole, but he cares. And I'd rather be around someone whose mean but cares, than someone whose nice but doesn't."

With that, she whirls on her foot and turns on Bruce Wayne, who has been silent the entire time with a surprised expression on his face. He starts to shake out of it when Sam turns to him, but she doesn't give him the chance to speak. "Enjoy your party." She snarls, and then stalks away.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #danyal al ghul au #older brother danny #sam is one protective gal. this scene went differently in my head. way differently. but alas. i am not complaining. #sam: if bruce wayne abandoned my best friend i'm gonna physically transform myself into a dragon and incinerate him. how dare he. #bruce and damian got to watch in real time as a random girl who knows danny suddenly realizes he's related to them. which is comical to me #because she suddenly goes from being disinterested but weirded out by damian. to suddenly looking at bruce like she's gonna kill him #which is very funny to me bc from their pov at first its like this random girl just speedran hating bruce. and then her parents bring up he #friend danny and then she calls him danyal. and suddenly its starting to click into place like 'oh fuck wait we may just have a lead on -- #-- finding danyal and his whereabouts.' especially after sam's mom mentions the scar on his face. like wow. what a crazy ten minutes. #not seen but def happened: sam gets her phone out to go text danny in the corner. she's not gonna bring up the bruce thing yet. she needs #a pick me up. related note: danny and tucker know she's gone to some gala thing with her parents but not to a wayne gala. if danny had know #he may have told her that he was related to damian wayne. just to prepare her for that. not so sure on the writing in this one folks #but i also dont wanna go through and edit anything its like half past one in the morning and i also dont wanna wait until morning to post #when i can just do it now. and get instant serotonin. i thought of this scene in various ways. like sam calling damian 'danny' out of shock #and then quickly correcting herself. and then excusing herself very quickly. or her mentioning that damian resembles her friend danny a lot #so she was just thrown off by him. because i def think that could happen if sam has no reason to think that she needs to hide danny from th #waynes. i also thought about her parents mentioning that damian resembles danny a little bit. only for one of them to go 'oh no no couldn't #- be. how insulting to damian since the daniel they know has this horrid scar on his face.' and then go from there. either way i thought #a scene like this would be fun. get to also kinda explore how danny looks like from his friends' povs. of which he is #'our lovable jerk who is an ex-cult member and whom we will maim someone over.' #not a scene that was added but i wanted to: sam mentioning in parenthesis that she and tucker think danny was part of a cult prior to the #fentons. and that sometimes danny will say something alarming and sam and tucker will stare at him until he frowns and goes #“that... isn't normal. is it?” and tucker will clap his shoulder and cheerfully go “no buddy. no it isn't” bc i think the idea is funny. #sam is so focused on the idea that bruce abandoned/ignored/was unaware of danny's existence that she momentarily forgot that bruce may have

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

still unwell over the prospect of Howdy slowly putting the pieces together and having a complete mental breakdown over it. Laughingstock edition!

#i have a whole Scene in my mind... #he loses it!! he very much loses his marbles!!! #he has all the pieces but he doesnt know how they fit and hes falling apart! #howdy: ohhhhh none of this is real #howdy: ....hm.... #howdy: alrighty im gonna lose my shit now #IT HAS POTENTIAL OK I SWEAR #scribble garnish #laughingstock #welcome home #brain wants me to write an outline for a fic centered on this #not - not laughingstock. not really it'd be Neutral and as canon compliant as i can manage #but oughhhhhhh the potentiallllllll #i really do feel like he's in a good place to glimpse behind the curtain #i take the caterpillar. i whip him around like a neanderthal with a palm frond #if you can't get puppet breakdowns from the store home-made is fine #from the store *Yet. #sighing dreamily as i consider the prospect of future updates having the beloved puppets lose their absolute minds <3 #cant wait for things to go south For Them <3 #i hope it genuinely disturbs me <3

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

x

#alex in this interview was one of my earliest inspirations for four walls #so i just had to gif it #it counts as research right?? 😅 #but no for real this is SO much how i picture him when i’m writing it #pretty and dreamy and tired and just a little sharp around the edges #not quite settled into his own skin but slightly adrift #still quietly figuring himself out and finding his place in the world #ffs i need to stop rambling into the tags and go and actually write 😭 #chapter five is now posted btw for anyone who missed it! #alex turner #alex gifs #arctic monkeys #sias era #four walls #my gifs #lulu posts

[luck-of-the-drawings]

my TWO FAVORITE THINGS IN THE WORLD, VAMPIRES N COWBOYS... deacon keller is SUCH a fun character, hes charming and funny but ALSO formidable and STRONG when he feels he needsta be. i hope him and arthur can get a chance to talk more and be better friends. l ike really good friend s. . like. like really good f. hangon i gotta go i think i hauve rabies.

#jrwi fanart #jrwi show #jrwi suckening #jrwi suckening spoilers #deacon keller #arthur bennett #OOUGUGHHAAOGUguguhh i feel so cringe whenever i ship two characters. like theyre not even REAL #why cant i be more 'hyperfixated' on getting bitched or something. CHRIST. anwyay i want em to hold hands or smth. yknow. freak stuff. #SO DEACON KELLER!! HE OVERHEARD ARTHUR TALKIN ABT THIS PLACE GETTING ATTACKED.. WE SAW HIM APPROACHING #AND THEN THE WHOLE FEAST PORTION OF THE PARTY HAPPENED N HE GOT STUCK #BUT HE KNEEEWW HE OVERHEARD ARTHUR SOMEHOW!! i just think thats neat. hes dedicated to protecting his people. hes respectable!! #GOD he doesnt even have that much screen time but i LOVE HIMMM n his silly lil shadow steed named Sunshine.. like cmon.... ugh..... #hes sweet n hes funny and he CAARES about the things hes in charge of on some levels. he certainly does his best to look after his own. #god idk what else to write here other than how much hes been on my MMMIND lately. the doctors are still running diagnostiscs #i just think hes so neat... also i think its funny that hes afraid o snakes. OH YKNOW lemme just talk abt my damn art. first o all this too #SSSOOO LONG. WEEKS EVEN.IVE BEEN WORKIN ON IT SINCE EP 5 WAS ON PATREON.it was sposed to be justa buncha doodles but then it Evolved #idk man...cowboys are just so cool...especially w VAMP POWERS..fastest shot in the west for a REASON BABY...n with the red smoke #n the glowing eyes..CMOn thats so cool i hadta get my visions into reality. the eyes were inspired by the music video for RATTLESNAKE (kglw #that where the IM THE SERPENT lines come from.lyrics from tha song.ooh yeah i love kglw so much...i also have other hidden messages here #i like to hide things...ALSO ALSO. I HAD SO MUCH TROUBLE W SO MUCH O THIS. the two bits with arthur n deacon biting eachother. AGONY #POSES ARE SO HHARRDDD SAME WITH THAT doodle o arthur slammin deacons head into the ground. WEEKS to get that pose RIGHT. I BLED SO MUCH #OHH AND GUNS???COWBOYHATS?? HIS GAY LIL JACKET? W THE DANGLIES?? AGOONYYY IT TOOK SO LONG TO PERFECT IT..especialy guns. OUUUHH #i also dont draw mustaches enough... which sucks bc im weak for a good mustache... BUT i think im doing pretty well on that. #it was hard but yknow what!! i think i did good! i rly like how this all turned out!! EXCEPT FOR THA FUCKIN RIBBON BOW THING I FORGOT TODRA #IN THE TOP RIGHT... THAT I JSUT NOTICED...its fine its fine i dont care that much. this is good enough to FEAST upon so im content n happy. #anyway i gotta leave ina few hours to start TRAINING for my NEW JOB!! CHEER FOR ME!! TRUCK IS A BLACKJACK DEALER NOW!! IEAAAHHH BABYYYY!!!! #thanku for reading my weird lil scrolls i bury beneath my posts. if u leave tags i WILL absorb them. and feel joy.

[nemurian]

@bigboobyhalo Your sacrifices have been accepted by the great Dapper. I'm so sorry but I don't think you'll be getting them back anytime soon. Or ever.

#nemart #qsmp #qsmp fanart #qsmp eggs #personal hc that bc the eggs are dragons they Love hoarding things #it differs with the egg #But Dappers pride-of-place in his little hoard are the plushies that Bad made him of 'their family.' #Bad's sitting in an armchair trying to crochet normally and Dapper is crouched beside him like a gargoyle watching him unblinkingly like 0- #Bad only realises the downside of how much Dapper loves them when Skeppy finally meets Dapper in person and Dapper reacts like that dog- #-who saw someone dressed up as his favourite toy and just went ballistic with happiness #-Like Dapper is Smart and he Knows that oh this is my other dad #this does not stop him from going ???? HUH ?????? PLUSHIE GOT BIG ?????? And attempting to add an increasingly confused Skeppy to the hoard #However the Real problems arise when he meets Junior who not only looks just like his plushie but is also Small and Shiny. #Skeppy can simply Walk Away when Dapper is trying furiously to get him to stay still #Junior Cannot. #Badboyhalo voice Where is my baby #Dapper (who knows perfectly well that Junior is currently going ???? is a veritable mountain of blankets) 'Oh he's missing? That's crazy.' #Anyway once again I am unable to resist writing a whole damn essay in the tags #Neon i Very much hope you like the drawing I cannot get your plushies out of my head they are so cute <3333

[firenati0n]

wip wednesday <3 :)

hello friends :) happy wednesday, hope you are well! happiest of birthdays to my babygirl Alex Claremont-Diaz, love you endlessly my beautiful big brained bisexual disaster with a heart of gold

thank you to @jellibuns @junebugclaremontdiaz @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @piratefalls @bigassbowlingballhead @leojfitz @ships-to-sail @suseagull04 @dragonflylady77 @kiwiana-writes @onthewaytosomewhere @wordsofhoneydew @priincebutt @magicandarchery @leaves-of-laurelin @eusuntgratie @duchessdepolignaca03 @saturntheday @itsmaybitheway @captainjunglegym @indestructibleheart @oxfordslutphase @tailsbeth-writes for the tags this week and on sunday :)

here's a snip from a tiny spy au coming this week if i can wrangle these men into submission:

“I'm serious, Alex. No theatrics. Certainly no blood. What's the code for trouble?” “Barracuda.” Henry clicks his tongue. “Too many syllables for my taste.” “Your name is too many syllables for my taste, yet you don't see me complaining.” “Touché.” He grasps Alex's shoulder, taking a long look into Alex's eyes. Henry's body is serene, but his eyes are always his tell for Alex. They're cloudy, tense; murky waters. “Be careful, please. We both know how dangerous these men are. Manu is unpredictable, even as the mafia equivalent of a middle manager.” “Aw, worried about me, sweetheart?” Alex grins, but it's a little unsteady, faltering at the edges. “Henry. This is easy. And if I’m lucky, no dicks will have to come out.” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. He really, really doesn’t want any dicks out this time. “See you in five, okay?” He squeezes Henry's arm, then slips out of the supply closet. Back to work.

xoxo roop

+ no pressure tags below the cut and open tag as always <3 tag me if you use :)

@ninzied @cha-melodius @sparklepocalypse @cricketnationrise @orchidscript @getmehighonmagic @myheartalivewrites @welcometololaland @anincompletelist @nocoastposts @tintagel-or-cockleshells @sherryvalli @lizzie-bennetdarcy @heysweetheart-writes @inexplicablymine @onward--upward @celeritas2997 @affectionatelyrs @14carrotghoul @rmd-writes @cultofsappho @anchoredarchangel @candyspandemonium @porcelainmortal @kj-bee @nontoxic-writes

#fic: sexually charged wrestling #roop writes #i wrote this for shits and gigs #there is no nutritional value #there is no purpose #it is just Vibes #do not look too closely at the plot or the body parts please #i am just a little guppy doing my best in a big ocean #and limbs are so hard to wrangle #i have so much respect for writers of action and smut GODDAMN #how do y'all keep track of bodies bro...they just love to go all over the place willy nilly!!!!! #they're just flying all over the fucking place #how does one keep track of hands and legs #let alone DICKS???????? #granted there are zero dicks out in this fic #but it is not encouraging for my smut journey i gotta be so real #anyway #see y'all on ao3 this week afjsldfjkalsd hope you enjoy #I'm never writing spy or action shit again fajsdlfkjals lemme just go reread nova baby for the 600th time like a normal person #wip wednesday

[raineandsky]

#92

tw: death

It’s cold. Someone shifts in the edges of the villain’s vision. Their breaths come out short and forced; each one threatening to be their last. Something bumps against their leg but they barely feel it. They can barely feel anything.

“Fuck,” someone hisses. The villain can hardly hear them. Their blood is pumping much too loudly in their ears. Something thick and crimson smudges across their palms. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to—”

There’s a moment of blissful nothing. It’s almost peaceful enough to fall asleep in. Then: “I’m so sorry, I– I didn’t—”

Footsteps. Receding. The person in the villain’s peripheral disappears and their voice dissipates into stark silence.

Exhaustion drags at the villain’s eyes. Everything around them is too far away. Their own thoughts are drifting dangerously close to nothing.

“Gosh,” a voice says from somewhere nearby. “You don’t half make yourself difficult to look after, do you?”

What? is what tries to come out of the villain’s mouth, but all their body can force out is a confused groan.

“I wish you would’ve considered a life of, I don’t know, normalcy and general lawfulness,” the voice continues. The villain can see them, kind of, standing at their feet. “I tried to force it down you as a teenager but… you know. Teenagers don’t listen.”

The stranger squats down in front of them, their head tilted to the side almost in curiosity. A white sheet spills at their feet. “Then again, I wasn’t expecting a hero to flat out stab you.” They chuckle, the sound reverberating harshly in the villain’s ears. “How novel.”

“Who…” is the furthest the villain can force their next question.

“Ah.” The person shuffles slightly. “I’m no one to worry about. I’ll introduce myself properly when you’re… lucid.”

The prospect of sleep is much too alluring for lucidity to be a possibility. The world has shrunken down to the villain at the stranger rambling at them by now. Their side hurts, and they can’t be bothered to remember why.

The person flops down on the ground with a sigh. Lower down, the villain can just about make out their face. Warm, kind; a bright smile beams at them. They’re pristine, beautiful, a world away from how the villain feels.

They momentarily see a flash of glaring white from behind the person as they settle, but they’re so dazed now that they might as well be imagining it.

“I’ll wait for you,” they say casually. “I’m sure you won’t be too long now, from the looks of you.”

Wait for what? The villain’s pretty sure they’re dying. Cold and fatigue creep in from all angles. They’re not going anywhere.

“Where…” The villain stops short again, their voice failing them, but the stranger seems to understand perfectly. Their smile widens slightly, and the villain somehow feels safe knowing they’re here. Like the first flower of spring is growing despite the claws of winter around it.

“We’re going to the other side,” the person says with a laugh like church bells, “and I’m pissed I have to take you there so early.”

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #heroes and villains #hero x villain #tw death #wanted to write a different angel story. failed. wrote this in its place #and its happening lads. this is posting whilst im at the conference for workkkkkk #im writing these tags way in advance (it is the middle of january) but i know i will be TiredTM #HOW WE HOLDIN UP 2ND FEB ME #[im pretty tired 15th jan me imma be real]

[kellterntempest]

To Hell and Back (werewolf-hunter au)

fic tidbit below

The lycan growled, his ears flattening. The fur along his spine and his tail puffedup, making his silhouette even larger than normal. Stone’s teeth, normally shining bright, were dark and stained thick with blood. His fur was also covered in what looked like a viscous mixture of blood, mud, and phosphorous slime. The wolf favored his left front paw, snapping at him in warning – Don't get close.

"Stone. It's me." Robotnik spoke firmly, with no room for doubt. "I'm here to bring you home."

The word "home" landed hard. The growling stopped, and a small whine came out instead from the wolf. Stone stood fixed in place, his legs shaking from his body’s prolonged state of fear and exhaustion. His eyes darted cautiously, still searching for the impending danger.

"Yes, home." Robotnik repeated, removing the gas mask off of his head. With great strength of will he ignored the sweltering, noxious heat and stench in the air. He cleared his throat, fighting back the instantaneous nausea, and softened his voice to speak again. Back to the voice he used only when they were alone together. "Samir. Come with me. We'll be together again."

The lycan's mouth opened, panting in slow, heaving breaths. Two trails of tears streaked clean amidst his blood soaked face. Stone took a step towards Robotnik, then another, limping closer.

Just as they were about to be within arm's reach, a searing scream pierced through the air that was quickly joined by a hellish chorus of voices. A pack of demons were approaching.

Robotnik raised his shotgun. "Time to go! Move it!" He slipped his mask back over his head and beckoned Stone to follow with a hard swing of his arm.

#sneek peek. WHY do i keep coming up with long fics. pain #werewolf au #stobotnik #werewolf!stone #jimbotnik #my fics #my art #i AM writing the werewolf au its just..... all over the place right now #tried using the “real g pen” for sketching to see how it turns out... i like it so far

[luciuscaelus]

Our Story (Fanfic)

Chapter 1 Promises

“Now, sing O Muses, of that brave boy Odysseïdes, Sparta has he visit'd, Pylos twice, with Athena the wise queen…”

“Stop it,” Telemachus giggled. “You’re acting like your father.”

“No, I’m not,” said Peisistratus. “You’re acting like your father.”

“No, I’m not,” said Telemachus. “Unlike him, I don’t have many deeds to brag about.”

“Doesn’t sailing for the first time count?” Peisistratus insisted. “And if you don’t like this song I can always make a new one for you.”

“No thanks, Peisis,” Telemachus said. “At least, leave it till my birthday.”

“That I can arrange,” Peisistratus replied, seriously.

And they locked their gazes for a long time, until Telemachus finally burst out laughing. Soon Peisistratus joined him, and their laughter quickly flooded the entire palace. It died down eventually, as the two young men slowly calmed down. Then Peisistratus started:

“I’m so glad you’re here, Tele. Had it been another usual day, I’d be hunting with my brothers in the fields. Not that I don’t like hunting, it’s just that I’ve so many things to talk about and my brothers always find them either boring or childish. You might be the only one I could chat with. Ah, I wish you could visit Pylos more often.”

“Yeah,” Telemachus nodded. “It feels like such a long time since we last met…has it been two years already?”

“One whole year plus nine months, to be exact.”

“Right, I’m not gonna doubt you. After all, you’re better with this than I am.”

“That’s about the time since your father returned home, yep.”

“Before he set out again, you mean.”

“He set out again? About when?”

Telemachus sighed. “About one year and eight months ago. Said it was something concerning a prophecy someone named Teiresias told him—”

“Teiresias? The Teiresias? But isn’t he already dead?”

“Yep. My father had visited the Underworld, literally.”

Peisistratus gasped. “What—Oh my, that was some nostos your father had. Anyway has he met any great hero there? Like Theseus? Or Heracles? Or even my brother Antilochus?”

“He saw your brother there alright,” said Telemachus. “And Heracles, who even talked to him…”

“That’s so sick!” Peisistratus exclaimed. “I wonder if we’ll be having an adventure like this in the future, say, just you and me, maybe plus someone else, I don’t know.”

“You know what? It would be great!” Telemachus blinked his eyes excitedly. Why have I never thought about it before? Hanging out with my friends? It’s such a great idea! And father is going to be proud of us…

proud…

He’s going to be proud, isn’t he?

Telemachus wasn’t so sure. He remembered basically everything in that day, when his father again departed from Ithaca, this time to somewhere unknown even to himself. He remembered that it was a sunny day, that the chanting of birds was glorious, that the sweet scent of olives was mesmerizing, that the airy dance of cloud was elegant. These he remembered well, but most vividly he could recall that very scene, that very conversation—

“Father, I want to come along,” he had said. “I want to be with you wherever you go, so we can at least share some thrills and fun together.”

“No, Tele,” his father had answered, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t bring you on board, not this time.”

“Why?” He had been so confused. “But I’ve always wanted to explore the worlds outside Ithaca, to see the giant oak in Dodona, the reputable land of Calydon, the seven gates of the famous Cadmea…I want to have an adventure, father. Just like you did.”

He remembered that look well. That look his father had gave him, those eyes with such agony, such sadness. Is it panic, panicking at the thought of his son following him down the miserable path that was meant for his own to take? Is it fear, fearing for the life and sanity of his son? Or is it sorrow, sorrowful over the naïve and innocent spirit of his 20-year-old son? Or is it pain, painful about the fact that he doesn’t even qualify as being a father, who never had the chance to see his son through the childhood, and hadn’t gotten to know this brave young man his son has become, before his fate was calling him to sail out again?

For a long time both of them didn’t speak, and the look was growing wearier and wearier and…it seemed as if another decade had passed inside his father’s mind, another decade filled with tribulations and torments. Telemachus couldn’t help but feel his regret. Regret that he ever said those words, regret that he wasn’t with his father when he needed him. The hands. He could feel his father’s hands gripping his shoulders tightly. But finally his father had lower the head, and sighed heavily. In a low voice, Odysseus had begun. “Tele, you have to understand. This cruel world is not as entertaining as it may seem, or sound in those tales. It’s dangerous out there, filled with monsters, storms, ruthless gods, and…and things that can go beyond your very imagination. Things that are so terrible, so overwhelming…”

He hadn’t finished the sentence, instead he was choked with sobs, and Telemachus had felt so guilty, and so helpless. But he had tried his best to withhold his tears, and had started to comfort his father. “Then I’ll face them bravely, father, like you would do. Like a true son of Odysseus would do.” Telemachus had put up with a smile. “As a true Odysseïdes.”

“Oh Tele…” Odysseus had moaned with tears. “Oh…for ten years I haven’t seen your face, in one month I haven’t gotten to know you better, but look, what an undaunted man you have become, when I’m away!” Finally, he had cracked into a smile. “Yes, that’s my boy!” He had said with sincere happiness, though the pain was still present in his voice. But at least, Odysseus had smiled.

And Telemachus had exhaled with relief.

“Father,” he had continued. “I wouldn’t insist if you really don’t want me along, but I need to know where you’re going, what you’re going to do, and how long I should wait for your return. Could you please tell me, just for mom’s sake and mine?”

And Odysseus had nodded. “Don’t worry about your mother, Telemachus. Penelope knows about this, and you have every right to know it as well.” He had stopped, and looked towards the western sky. As Telemachus followed his gaze, Odysseus continued. “Do you remember the story I’ve told you, about that prophet Teiresias in the Underworld? I had asked him about my fate, and he had answered:

‘…When someone else runs into you and says you've got a shovel used for winnowing on your broad shoulders, then fix that fine oar in the ground there, and make rich sacrifice to lord Poseidon with a ram, a bull, and a boar that breeds with sows. Then leave. Go home, and there make sacred offerings to the immortal gods…’

“So you see, Telemachus, I don’t know where I’ll go to, but I know what I’ll find. It may be a long voyage, or it may be short. Who knows? But I’m going anyway, because I am Laërtiades, son of the honorable Laërtes—one of the legendary Argonauts.”

“I see,” Telemachus had said. “The blood of dauntlessness runs deep in our family.”

“Precisely.” Odysseus had laughed proudly. “You, my son, will also share this honor, in the future perhaps, when you take on a journey of your own, and build your fame with your own feats. But today, the journey is mine to undertake, and with the blessing of the prophet, I’m very certain that I will make it home again.”

“Okay.” With a serious face, Telemachus had nodded. “Then I’ll try not to surpass you.”

They were both grinning when an owl started to whoop from the forest.

“Wait, dad,” Telemachus had suddenly called. “If not this time, then when?”

Odysseus had given him a slight smile. “When I return, son, I shall take you to Dodona, where the oaks are august; then we’ll visit Calydon, where twenty two heroes had once gathered to slay that giant boar; then we shall go to Thebes, where twice had the Argives waged war against, one of them being the father of a king whom I have befriended; and then,” Odysseus had patted Telemachus’s right shoulder. “Then I will bring you to Pylos again. And know that I won’t be gone for long. This is a promise.”

“Swear it on the river of Styx?”

“I swear it, on the river of Styx.”

Gradually, Telemachus had returned the smile. “Thank you, dad.” He had said, voice cracked with the bittersweet taste in his throat. “Thank you so much.”

He remembered the hug, the kiss, and the departure of his father clearly. He remembered how often he had doubted that whether his father would ever make it back again. He remembered that worried look of his mother, who had often stood by the shores of Ithaca, waiting, waiting. But he also remembered, that Odysseus had made a promise.

And here they were, in Pylos again, weren’t they?

And it only took him eight months, didn’t it?

So, there’s nothing to worry about. After all, there’s nothing that can waver the resolve of Odysseus’s homecoming. And thus he shall always return. Always.

All because of his love, and his promise.

Telemachus nodded to this fact. Love, and promise. That’s what my father was proud of. And if I have found the courage to love, to make a promise, then will Odysseus be proud of me, even with the knowledge that I may travel afar, likely into an ocean of danger, and a sea of trouble?

Then will we get to have our adventure, and get back safely? Will we get to tell our tales, and make our own story?

So to Peisistratus he said these words, with all his heart:

“And I’m sure we will. Of this I give you my promise.”

#It has stayed in the drafts for days #it’s on discord now but since I did this on tumblr might as well post it #greek mythology #tagamemnon #odysseus #telemachus #pisistratus #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #epic the musical #I’ve thought about all the chapters and yes you’re gonna see many familiar places and people #Imma explain chap 1 here a little bit #Sing O Muses? Had to be done #And it’s in dactylic hexameter #One sad thing is that Ody cannot stick around until he made that sacrifice for Poseidon #Ody staying for one month is actually from his own idea (when he was still a Cretan who claimed to know himself) #And dw the course has been plotted using three maps #I’ll calculate the time later on cuz Imma try sth like the Captain’s Log recording #Oh and the winions are considered real here #so it’s also an epic fanfic lol #I’ll see how far I can go

[loving-jack-kelly]

i think. for spot being in love is the biggest and most unexpected thing in the world to him he didn't expect it he doesn't quite believe it's real he can't get over it. and for race it's another tuesday. and this means that race says I love you first because it's not hard for him and race says it more often because it's not hard for him and race says it more casually because it's not hard for him but spot says it and feels it from his head to his toes and there are not three words in the English language that mean more to him than "I love you" to say. or to hear.

#ive long held for no real reason that spot is a poet #and i think he'd (exclusively in private with race) be the type of cornball to recite his own poetry to his partner in a quiet moment #i think spot shows his love in so many ways. race can just say it but the words get stuck behind his teeth. so instead he does things #makes lunches offers to do the shopping cleans up without being asked brings things home that will make race smile #writes sappy poetry soaked in layers of metaphor that only race has any hope to understand (and only race will ever get to see) #i think race knows how much weight spot places on the phrase 'i love you' and loves getting to give it to him so often #and also appreciates how much it means that spot says it to him and only him. #spot loves his friends but is not casual with I love yous. he will do things for them he will care for them he will stick up for them #he has only ever said 'i love you' to race #also his sister in aus where she exists tho. he loves her soso much #anyway. #newsies #sprace #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #race higgins #also spot Never gets sick of hearing race say it. doesn't matter if it's the first time ever or the tenth time in ten minutes #he's going !! he loves me!! in his head every time

[thebirdandhersong]

but you know! bullet dodged! it's almost enough to put a girl off romance for the rest of the year but heck if I care enough at this point! I've literally run out of emotional energy. the past five months have been such a rollercoaster that I just don't have the energy to keep being upset :-)

#i simply.............haven't got the energy to ask him (again) to respect my boundaries/respect me #it's like. why do i even HAVE to ask for this in the first place!!! #i also do not have any tears left to cry which is saying something considering how much i cry over everything. i'm all cried out #right now i have my girls i have my books i have the daylight coming back more and more every day #i shall be okay! i know this won't be The End as i feared it might (i was real pessimistic) #it will only be The End if i let it. i shan't let this cheat me of my dancing my singing my writing or my general joie de vivre! #i fought HARD for that joie de vivre and i ain't giving it up!!!!!

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

hm ok so for a while i was thinking that Wally, for the most part, only perceives reality as "Home", the neighborhood. that's his entire world, it's all he knows

but then i slapped myself and went wait. the Live Interview. Wally has been outside of Home, and has interacted with humans (presuming that the interview did actually happen, of course). and through Wally's interactions - or rather, attempt at interactions with Us, the QA, and the WHRP, it can be strongly assumed that he knows that there's an Elsewhere. there are places outside of Home. maybe he doesn't quite understand that there's another reality of sorts, but there's no way he's unaware that there's more than just the neighborhood out there

(and then of course there's the fact that Clown has said that humans are deeply involved (not a direct quote, im paraphrasing) in Welcome Home. maybe Wally interacted with them / regularly interacted with them. there could have been an adjustment period after he gained consciousness where humans helped him learn how to walk/talk/fine motor skills - this could be why he has such a seemingly inherent / desperate trust in Us & the WHRP & the QA... humans made him and cared for him. it's possible he could view them as a sort of higher power to trust & have faith in

& maybe he's been off-set or could go off-set. i mean, the houses' rooms were all different sets - the buildings themselves were empty husks, right? who's to say Wally wouldn't physically walk to the individual set pieces whenever he went over to someone's house (but then that leads me into speculation on how the puppets' consciousness works and how multiple copies of them could co-exist and wondering which is the - im getting off track. but there's all of that and then the two part "you're okay!" art pieces of Wally & Eddie, which are technically canon - dont quote me on that - and that's Another ramble/theory post i could go on about & have strong feelings on. Anyway!)

"but wait," i hear someone protest, "what about Barnaby? he was in the Live Interview too"

but was he? was he really? was that Barnaby, or was that a person in a suit playing the character Barnaby B. Beagle? i mean, if it was Barnaby, there had to be some memory fuckery going on that prevented him from either fully comprehending/realizing the situation, or just made him forget as soon as it was over.

and actually wait, Wally has to be aware of the reality discrepancy. because it was certainly him in the Interview as himself. He had to have understood on some level that either that wasn't really Barnaby, or that Barnaby wouldn't remember the interview.

(there's a connection in my head between all of this & how he would view an apple pie. "it isn't the same anymore. something's different". but i can't pin it down for the life of me.)

and with the Talking Telephone calls, Wally explicitly tells Us that he's not going to tell anyone who was behind the calls. i remember listening to the "original" prank call audio tests, which while were very similar to the canon in-website ones, have a few changes. one of which was Wally - in the tests - saying that the others weren't ready to meet Us yet. now in canon that tidbit has been swapped out for "You have to go too. You have work to do" but i think it's still implied through Wally's purposeful withholding-of-information that he doesn't think the others are ready to know. or he straight up doesn't want them to know

i mean, one little theory i previously had is that Wally wants them all to catch on to the nature of their reality and situation, but he doesn't want to - or Can't - tell them outright. they have to figure it out. and that can't was either something keeping him quiet, or because if they learned too soon / inorganically, their little puppet heads would pop into confetti like Red Guy's in dhmis 4

However my views have Changed and i'm pretty sure Wally is purposefully not telling anyone to maintain the illusion that everything is fine and can continue on as it always has. maybe it comes from a place of protectiveness, of love? whatever the motive i think he wants them all to keep being unaware and dare i say, Complacent while he "fixes" their situation.

which is delusional, but we all know Wally is digging his metaphorical claws into a desperate bid to keep everything the same / return it to its original state, leaving bloody scratches in something already rotted. or something like that!

all this to say i think it's interesting how it seems that he's the only one aware of humans / an outside/other world, yet he's so determined to stay in his lane. he wants connection & communication yet he doesn't want to leave or change. he wants help in keeping things the same (some could say in keeping Our reality & his separated) but in the process he's dooming everyone/everything and tearing down those walls himself

(Wally: i'm going to stay where i am, and you're gonna stay where you are, and we're gonna help each other keep me and my friends where we're meant to be. anyway i wonder what this sledgehammer does)

#this is a very disjointed ramble but when are they ever put together! #i have to start at point a to get to point 36 yk yk #trying to write down my thoughts is like trying to keep a firm grip on a lubed up ferret #SOAPED!!! SOAPED UP!!! I MEANT SOAP yk that doesnt make it any better. anyway moving on dont look at me #its. its. the more i think about wally the more i go insane #like he's got neurosis stacked on neurosis stacked on- #there is something soooo wrong with him <3 #homebogging #welcome home speculation #wh speculation #i do think his heart is in the right place. i do think he's trying to achieve something he thinks is good & best for everyone #but... despite being aware of more than his friends... technically knowing more Truth than them #he's more trapped by that knowledge. he's ruled by it. and he doesn't really have the - #i dont want to say capacity bc i have to believe that he Can change. he just doesnt know how / currently doesnt want to / is too scared to #but he doesn't have the freedom the others have. bc in their ignorance they can ignore their confines #in a way they're more real than wally despite living in a fabricated world as fabricated people with fabricated lives #they're authentic in their ignorance #and ive said it before and ill say it again - wally was created as a blank slate while everyone else already had a Foundation #no matter how false their memories are they Have them. they have the tools to change and want change #they already perceive themselves as more than what they were made for. they think they're People (not humans - people) dont they? #so if they learn theyre trapped... they'll want out. meanwhile wally is already stuck bc while they have - in a way - More #the neighborhood & the show are all wally has. he knows there's outside but he doesnt have any reason to Want that outside #bc why would he want to leave home? why would he want anything to change? it's his sole purpose isnt it? #idk i just think wally would benefit from being told 'you dont need a purpose / you dont need to adhere to a purpose / you are enough as Yo #doing what You want. you can just Be' #but yk. what was i talking about again #oh yeah - wally is so so aware and yet so in the dark #he's got one half of the puzzle but they're all corner/edge pieces and he's trying to fill the inside space with Nothing #hm. i wonder if he'll end up needing the other neighbors to help finish the puzzle... who's to say who's to say!! #FUCK YOU TUMBLR I HAD MORE TO SAY. CUT OFF AGAIN AGH

[honestlyvan]

(Crossposted to DW)

Continued thought -- it is also very interesting for me that other than the weirdo-coded profession, the real Casey is... really not that remarkable of a guy. A lot of the heavy lifting for us to see past the stony-faced exterior is just Saga's point of view, the two of them are tangibly fond of one another, her being so used to and comfortable with the kind of guy he is communicating to us that this is, like, normal, he's pretty much always like this.

The real Casey is temperamental but not particularly dramatic, realistically awkward in the way someone who spends a lot of time in his own head and doesn't enjoy the sound of his own voice would be. He's insightful, but clearly self-aware that this tells us more about him as a person than anything else. I'm sure he's capable of being charismatic, of converting confidence into authority, but that is as circumstantial to his personality as it would be in real life. He's at the upper end of what weird withdrawn guys are like, sure, but still ultimately just a guy.

And with that in mind, when you, like... mentally align the two Caseys... you can see where Alan is coming, y'know? You can see the real Casey fill out the shape of the Casey in Alan's head, you can see the creative liberties taken to turn one into the other. You can see the elisions being made going both ways, because a lot of the things that the real Casey knows would make him genuinely too offputting if said out loud make for excellent thematic background noise, and the things that ground his humanity would make for a boring story.

#fannish #Fictional Alex Casey #FBI Alex Casey #it's like a goddamn magic trick. How is this game this good #Sam Lake I am shaking you by the shoulders until the secrets of your writing fall out #It also makes me feel *ways* about when the story starts affecting Casey #and that overlap starts to loom larger. Starts to dominate the tone #the way the story changes the real Casey to be more like the Casey in the Dark Place #It is legitimately pretty damn spooky #especially on first playthrough where you're genuinely unsure as to how 'real' real Saga and the real Casey are #AW2 spoilers #Alan Wake (Remedy)

[lunarharp]

little bit of modern au (SPOILERS for the zelda game.)

#witch hat tag #orufrey #zelda totk spoilers #thus ends the orufrey playing on their switches saga. oh modern au...the place where everything is pretty much ok. Yes i have joycon drift. #hey literally why do ppl leave private replies on twt. not priv qrts. that's like..fine. Whatever. but priv replies...who r u talkin to. #once i posted a comic about writing that went REALLY far before i deleted it and got 400+ qrts and someone left a string of private replies #Yeah go off king. What is the point #what does it mean. what does it all mean. <- me at all times looking at the internet in my puter and understanding nothing and just leaving #i'm obsessed with how i said that qifrey doesnt really 'identify' with link so it's hard for him to play games like this #but he cooks food and sleeps as if things are real. Oh what a mysterious fellow...my darling..meanwhile once again oru plays normally #qifrey: I don't really know who zelda is so... sorry that happened to her...bye.. Oh my stomach must be rumbling by now! #if you haven't seen the other parts to this saga he ended up caring abt zelda because he pretended to himself that she is oru. Princess Oru #i play more like qifrey btw. totk was really good

[jrueships]

sometimes i'll think abt a Fandom and wish it were bigger, and sometimes i'll read something from a fandom.. and wish it were smaller

#ppl seeing a confident black man : FINALLY! A PERFECT ANTAGONIST FOR OUR STORY! #THE CORRUPTOR!! THE ASSHOLE! MR KNOWS ALL! #i want to be bigger into football. i rlly do #but . omg. sometimes seeing just So Much . side eye shit is . like imagine my exhaustion #and this isnt me trying to be the behavior police like let ppl write but sometimes seeing such. Fun. patterns can be like #idk man it's sad like damn thats rlly how the world is and obvs i KNOW how it can be but it's real wack #real wack being reminded even in ur supposed happy place ur supposed lighthearted little break from the world #it's still not . idk. it's just not #oh the poor pale blond qb just a little anxious baby oh and his evil zany teammates trying to corrupt him oh theyre so terrible for my angel #:/ #.. that is. a Grown. Man . #it's like replaying my 2nd grade teacher ******** me bcs i was a troublesome kid and it made her feel young and alive and bad again #like wtf am i corrupting you with maam? skibbity toliet ? leave me alone !! #listen. if it were smthing like 'x rlly likes tomatoes' when he actually likes idk carrots? i would not give a fuck. infact i prefer carrots #but bad patterns have smthing more to say bcs patterns in general have a story #it's more than 'he would not fucking say that' it's 'WHY tf are YOU making HIM say THAT of ALL people & THINGS???' #like i love having asshole characters in my stories too. and they can be poc ! NO ONE is a saint! #but having one just to fuel the only one u actually care abt? having their problems solely be for plot?? & making that one #a SPECIFIC kind of person ?? is kinda giving me 'u dont view x as a human which could mean you dont view x race as humans' #WHICH IS !! IT SUCKS ! THAT SUCKS! #i know i need to just suck it up and ignore it but thats like the life quote of being poc isnt it #ugh #it sucks

[fictionadventurer]

It sounds like Joe and Ken focused on telling stories, stories that being stories focused on the world and characters they knew. While Pete's were more focused on delivering a message with story flavored wrapping.

This is very much the case, but the difference seems to go even deeper than that, to a fundamental difference in worldviews that affect how they approach story.

Episodes written by Joe Fallon and Ken Scarborough respect children as people. Children have been shaped by their experiences and have unique personalities. Children are curious and have brains--they are driven to explore new things and can draw conclusions from what they see and do. Children are already people who deserve respect, and like all of us, they're growing into different people as they learn new things and have more experiences. The child characters can thus be the drivers of their own stories and come to learn lessons for themselves. The child audience can relate to those characters, be drawn into the story, and learn what it's trying to teach without having every detail explicitly spelled out.

Episodes written by Peter Hirsch seem to approach children as people-in-training. They might have one or two personality traits, but instead of coming from and interacting with other elements of their background, they're just pasted on, like a sticker you can put on your Generic Child Prototype. These blank-slate children need to have knowledge poured into them so they can become Properly Educated Adults. So in his episodes, these child characters will go through their story with a question, and the adults--the real people--will tell them the information in great detail so these characters--and the watching audience--can go off into the world knowing what the writer has decided they need to know.

In Joe and Ken's episodes, flaws are funny, and can create funny conflicts that will teach the children better ways to approach problems. In Pete's episodes, flaws are horrible things that need to be pointed out, labeled, and sanded away, so these children can grow up into the perfect model of what a Good Adult should be. The first approach is engaging, and celebrates diversity of personality in a community, while the other becomes bland in the interests of shaping all the members of a community into the desired mold.

Comparing the two approaches provides a shockingly thorough lesson in how one should and should not approach writing and education. Story and character and message are all intertwined. Trying to force the message onto the story and characters makes for something bland and generic and unrealistic. Letting the characters shape the story and letting the story bring out the message makes for something much more unique, organic, engaging, and real. And yes, maybe I've come to this conclusion by spending far too much time thinking way too deeply about a bunch of shows for elementary-aged chlidren, but that doesn't mean it's not fascinating to see how, even within the same show, an writer's personality and approach to the audience can make such a vast difference in the quality of a story.

#answered asks #arthur #curious george #it has gotten to the point that i inspired the brother i usually talk to about these things #to google peter hirsch's biography #he couldn't find it #but we thought there has to be *some* explanation for why his work is the way it is #has he ever been outside a city? #has he ever left the east coast? #i didn't even get into the different approaches to class between the writers #joe and ken write episodes that happen in a world with working-class people #francine's family can't afford things the other kids can for instance #whereas in later arthur those real-world concerns are erased in favor of upper-middle-class discourse #i don't think i would have descended to this level of analysis except seeing all these people write for multiple shows #is really making it clear which elements come from the writer's personality regardless of the show #oh also the main post wasn't the place to mention this #but it's fascinating to see this message vs story thing applied to completely secular issues #because it drives home that it's not just the religion that makes some christian fiction so awkward #but how they approach it #message needs to come from story no matter what the message is #and you can have cringy preachy content even in completely secular works