#even the newer re-writes. it's all there

[imwritesometimes]

I have this very very stupid marchly fic idea that I've thought about on and off for over a year and I might just say fuck it and write it since the appropriate season will be upon us soon but also... it's very silly & stupid and I'm not sure how to flesh it out even into a short one shot cause all I've really got is the idea for this scene that amuses me to no end but would probably not be an amusing funny one-off to many other ppl

[deadsetobsessions]

Listen, I know it’s not my usual thing, but I just re-read Dark Matter by mysterycyclone (iconic, so good, incredible, I’ve reread this at least ten times) and this newer work, Help Me, I Don’t Feel Like Myself Anymore by Astra_Nova_Kat (it’s off to a really good and fleshed out, very long start- it’s like 20k for the first chapter omg).

I just. Love?? Them??? They’re both, urg, so good. The writing style, the way the story moves, the natural progression of plot and their usage of tropes are so well done that rarely does it feel awkward. Amazing. Anyways, they inspired me to put my two cents into the proverbial offering hat and while this might not ever be a realized fanfic, here it is? This will have multiple parts.

Uh, I’m basing Peter’s personality off of the really tired millennial energy Tobey Maguire gives, the awkward but well meaning disaster vibes of Andrew Garfield, and the sassy acrobatic chaos gremlin of Tom Holland. All kind of mushed together with the hyper competence and maturity of both the PS4 spidey and pretty much most spider people. He’s 22, or something but that doesn’t really matter?? Background doesn’t really matter because I’m basically making my own spider-verse. Spider… past? Eh. New Peter!

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.1

[Pt.2]

——

Spider-Man swung through the skyscrapers of his city, enjoying the winds and sounds of New York as he kept a sharp eye out for crime.

He remembered doing this without any of the fancy tech his suit had now, when he was dressed in less protective clothing. God, 100% cotton while crime fighting? The spandex was better but god ugly.

His spider-sense blared. Spider-man quickly shot a web to the top of the building, going towards the danger instead of away from it.

He goes in feet first, years of knocking common thugs to legitimate gods to the ground making short work of the people on the roof top. He flips out of the way, dodging a blast of crackling green energy.

“Heyyyy, common robbers! What’s up with shiny lasers, huh? Breaking and entering not doing enough for ya?”

Spider-Man dodges a couple more shots, flipping again to knee a guy in the face, gently. The man goes down in one shot.

“Stay still, you motherfucker!”

“Does that actually work for you guys?? Like I’m down to get killed but, man, I’m not gonna stay still to get downed by some two bit thugs?” Spider-Man kept his words light and mocking, webbing up a laser gun and yanking it out of the woman’s hands. He punches her in the face and knocks her out, using the laser gun like a mildly bulky baton.

“Eat shit, Spider-bitch!”

“Ouch! Oh no, my feelings! You’ve hurt them!” Spider-Man shoots a web at the lady who’d shouted and yanked, before smacking her straight down to the concrete of the rooftop. His hearing picked up two people coming up the stairway and Spider-Man tossed two web bombs, the metal mechanism attached itself to the wall, waiting for their unknowing victims.

Spider-Man ducked and weaved, downing goons as they piled on him while shooting bullets, lasers, and just charging at him with a bat or a crowbar. After eight years of pretty much this exact thing, Spider-Man had gotten the science of breaking up goon dog piles without hurting them too much to an exact measurement. He quipped at them until they got annoyed, which made them sloppy. Spider-Man sighed as another guy came at him with a crow bar and a gun that he was pretty sure was still stuck on safety. He crouched, kicking out their legs and dodging a swipe of a bat where his ribs would have been and webbed the guy to the floor. Yeah, he’ll wrap this up and end patrol. Maybe he still had Mac n’ Cheese at home, or he could stop by Angelo’s for a sub?

Huh. His options for dinner was limited.

“Take this!”

Even without the forewarning of his spidey-sense, Spider-Man would have ducked out of the way regardless.

“Shouting your sneak attacks isn’t actually all that sneaky, you know!” Spider-Man kept his voice cheery and mocking.

“Get him!”

God, why were there so many people trying to break into an insurance company? This definitely doesn’t smell like a regular B&E. With the shit he’s seen in New York, if it smells like a plot, acts like a plot, then it’s probably a villain with a tragic backstory with big, annoying plans.

Great.

Oh, speak of the devil!

“Spider-Man.” His senses blared.

He couldn’t move out of the way fast enough, not without risking the life of the goon he was currently fighting, so Spider-Man took the blast the punched the breath out of his lungs. The wide eyes of the goon made up for some of the pain.

“Ugh!” Spider-Man slammed into an HVAC, denting the metal. His suit, made special polymer blend from Wakanda that he saved for months to get, absorbed some of the shock. Shit, he hoped it didn’t tear. It would be a bitch and a half to dip into the back up stock he had in his hammer space.

The goons left standing quickly rushed him and held him down to face the new boss.

“You’ve been getting on my nerves, Spider.”

“Yeah,” Spider-Man coughed out, letting the two goons think they could hold him down on his knees as he recovered his breath. “I have that effect on people.”

“But you could be an asset, if you’d join me?”

“Uh, I don’t join or sign things without knowing what I’m joining or signing, my guy. My lawyer said so.”

The villain paused, helmeted head cocking to the side.

“You have a lawyer?”

“Yeah. Kind of? He does pro-bono work for the helpless cases. You know, like, a well meaning, crime fighting vigilante?”

“…Does he do cases against insurance companies?”

“Oh man, you too? Dude, this place sucks,” Spider-Man sighed.

“You’ve had trouble too? Then you must see why I’m doing this!”

This was a bit weird, but if there’s anything that brings people together, it’d be corrupt insurance companies. He’s almost tempted to let them break in, just to be extra petty.

“Nah, my neighbor? Sweet old lady. They’re screwing her out of her entire place. I totally get it, man. Hey, if you need a referral, you can tell my lawyer that Spider sent you. He’s real good.”

“How good?” The goons release him and Spider-Man stood up, stretching his limbs.

“Like, Dare Devil good.”

“You know Matt Murdock??”

“Sure do.”

“He… he’ll take on our cases?”

“Dang, all of you?”

“Yes. We can pool enough money to pay him for one or two.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he’ll take you guys on for free. But it wouldn’t hurt if you all went to meet him, just so he can decide which one of you has a higher chance to win in court?”

“We will. Uh.” The villain paused sheepishly. Well, not a villain, more like an unfortunately angry and poor decision making citizen. “Sorry about… you know, the blast.”

“It’s cool. I mean,” Spider-Man gestured to the rooftop, the bodies of unconscious people kind of laying around where he knocked them down. “You guys might wanna check on them, yeah? I’ll let you go for now, but if you commit a B&E again, I’ll leave you webbed up for GCPD to find.”

“Got it. Sorry.”

Feeling good about himself, and plotting corporate espionage, Spider-Man went to help pry some people from his webs.

And of course, because Parker Luck kicks in only when Spider-Man felt like life was looking up for himself, Spider-Man’s senses blared once more as he knelt down to pull at some webbing.

“Oh, shit!” He heard, right before a cold blast of something slammed right into his head, knocking him out.

And Spider-Man

F

E

L

L.

——

Larry looked at the the empty space where Spider-Man, the guy who took a hit from his boss’ blaster so he wouldn’t get hurt, used to be.

He twisted.

“Boss, what the fuck?!”

“Shit! That was accident!” Boss pulled herself up from the concrete, where she just ate dirt.

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know, Larry! That was the experimental warped mode! Crap!” His boss scrambled with the controls, desperately trying to see if the magic gun her magician friend had handed her years ago had a reverse button. It didn’t.

“Why would you bring a test weapon into the field?!”

“I gave you all of my other ones!” She threw up her hands. “Fuck, I feel so bad.”

Larry paled. “Dude, Dare Devil’s gonna kill us.”

“He doesn’t kill!” His boss hesitated. “I think.”

Larry pointed to the empty space. “Yeah? He might start with us. Spidey was a cool guy and you just disappeared him!”

“I know!”

Larry buried his head into his hands and tried not to hate himself for the entire situation.

——

Spider-man woke up, laid flat on the grimy ground of an alleyway.

“Ugh. Just my luck.” He kept his eyes closed for just a beat longer to allow himself time before having to pull his shit together. Why was his voice high? And a bit squeaky? He pulled himself together.

“Okay.” He whispered to himself, before sitting up and taking stock of the situation.

First thing that hit him was that it stunk to high heavens. Gagging, Spider-Man looked to the right and- yeah, that’ll do it. He stood up on wobbly legs to try to move away from the overflowing dumpster.

That’s when the second, more important and decidedly more troublesome, observation hit him.

He’s short. Shorter. And his suit was hanging off of him.

He could tell he still had his normal by now physiology, with the speeding heartbeat and the feeling of super strength. But he’s shorter. With a mounting sense of equal parts dread and resignation, he pulled at the hidden seam by his nape, relying on his both his enhanced senses and spidey-sense to tell if anyone was nearby or looking at him. He pulled the Spider-Man suit off, blankly folding it neatly as he stared dumbly at his hands. They’re small too. Shit. He stumbled to a nearby mud puddle and stared down, seeing his younger face in the contaminated water. Double shit.

He’s starting to loose his composure. He’d gone through a lot of bizarre things over the last eight years. But getting accidentally Detective Conan’ed by a person he just helped was a new low.

The black under layer of his suit, a slash proof and fire resistant polymer Peter had designed himself in MIT’s lab, was in a similar state.

With one hand, Peter Parker numbly rolled up his sleeves and pant hems. Great. Okay. Now what?

Ah. Shoes. He did not want to walk around in his too-big Spider-Man boots. He looked around. Well, there’s the laces of what looked to be like a pair of dumpster shoes. “Yeah, no.”

Shit. Does he still have access to his hammer space?

Peter reached into his pocket, and tried to reach for a pair of normal sneakers. His shoulder slumped as he produced a pair. Fuck yes. He still has access! And shoes! They’re ones he took off of a power line for a well off kid who didn’t want it anymore. He was going to donate them to F. E. A. S. T. but he’s thanking the stars he procrastinated a bit on swinging by the center. He put them on. They’re a bit big, but it’s better than the giant-in-comparison ones he normally wears. You know, as an adult.

He hesitated with his mask. He should at least figure out where he is. He hoped it was still in the states. His mask blinked, the HUD in his lenses informing him that it was trying to find a connection. “That’s weird.” He paused, grimacing at the sound of his voice. But it is weird, because he had his mask automatically connected to the world wide satellites Tony Stark had sent circling the globe for citizens without internet access as a back up option. So either he was somewhere even the Stark Satellites couldn’t reach or…

Peter swallowed, his mask pinging as it found a connection to piggy back on. He clicked his tongue twice to activate the voice controls.

“Connect to the local maps. Where am I?”

His masked followed the order. [Gotham. New Jersey.]

Peter stared at the words, gut churning.

Good news, he was still in the States. Bad news? He’s shrunk, in a totally different state, and possibly in a different world because he’s not connected to the Stark Satellites he knew operated in New Jersey.

Peter Parker tilted his head back and allowed himself one verbal, panic level six and up, curse word.

“Fuck.”

He took off his mask and leaned against a slightly cleaner part of the wall before hyperventilating.

——

Half an hour later, Peter smacked himself on the cheeks and pulled himself together.

“You’re Spider-Man,” he hissed to himself. “Have a mental breakdown somewhere warm, you dumbass.”

Peter Parker was a champion, world class expert at compartmentalization.

He slipped his mask back on, and pulled up his “So You’re Stuck in an Alternate Universe” list he had made with Ned so many years ago when they were high school kids and going through comic books to make contingencies because Peter was a little idiot vigilante hero.

“I didn’t think I’d actually ever need this kind of thing.” Peter muttered. He slipped his black back up gloves on to connect to his mask’s display in order to type.

“Okay,” he glanced at the side by side screens in his lenses. “Money.”

Five things.

1) The emergency cash he’d stashed on him thankfull matched the pictures of cash he’d found on this world’s internet. Yay!

2) He had $1000 tucked away. Not yay. Not if this might be a long term stay before he got back to his own dimension. Not if he wanted a place to sleep.

3) Luckily, thanks to his earlier search of where the hell he was, Peter figured out that due to the high crime rates- “Dang, that’s worse than New York on New Year’s Eve,” he had marveled- Gotham was dirt cheap and that that meant 1k dollars could actually last him a while and he could afford a room for a month on $250. A whole ass apartment for $550. Peter seriously considered staying in this universe just for the rent prices. So what if there’s rampant crimes? He’d deal with it if the rent was that cheap.

4) Problem? He’s fucking tiny. Who would rent to a person that looked like child? Not anyone upstanding, that’s for sure. He’s more likely to get mugged. Counterpoint: he’s in a city where apparently shady people are all around. Also? He doesn’t have an identity.

5) If the fact that he couldn’t connect to the Stark Satellites didn’t convince him he was either in another universe or an alternate dimension, the visual graphics of the websites he visited would. It was like looking at Windows in the early way before Stark Co. bought them out and improved the design. Nauseating.

Okay, so, money’s not too urgent of an issue. Next on Ned’s list: Places of Interest.

Namely, libraries, homeless shelters, crime hotspots, and the like.

Peter snorted when he came across an opinions article talking about how Park Row became Crime Alley. And then he frowned, because that story was not painting this place to be even remotely nice. Then again, considering the crime rates and the various Rogues this place seemed to have in spades, that wasn’t much of a surprise. Peter marks the place in his new mental map of Gotham as a potential area he could either disappear to or get a new identity at. He then marked the libraries, Gotham City Public Library and its many branches all funded by generous donations from a Bruce Wayne, the Martha Wayne foundations’ shelters and charities, two supermarkets near the library, and a coffee shop he thought looked warm and cozy from the shitty pictures they have uploaded online. He needed coffee, dammit, and he needed it hours ago. Alas, he probably wouldn’t get to go to one until he secured his finances.

Well, it’s not like he doesn’t have practice being poor.

3) Which brings him up to Ned’s next, surprisingly reasonable for a teenager hoped up on a mountain load of sugar, point. Level of Tech.

Peter hid next to the dumpster, melding in with the shadows, as he continued his research.

Tech here was… well, he probably wouldn’t have to worry. The thought of not having a Starkphone, even his older model, was painful considering the new versions of these WaynePhones were really… behind. Peter doesn’t remember the last time he had buttons on his phone or let alone a touch screen that didn’t use facial tracking and biometrics or even have a holographic display mode.

“Ugh. Okay. Not the end of the world, Parker.” Peter muttered.

Now… People of Interest.

This was underlined three times with Ned’s red pens, with extensive subcategories.

Subcategory A? Villains, because “what if they put out a warning for a known villain and you get your butt kicked because you didn’t know about them, Peter? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”

He had replied, half focused on the list and the other on savoring the Millennium Falcon Lego set May had saved up for months to get him for his birthday, “I feel like if I was getting my butt kicked by a villain, I’d probably have better things to worry about than my utter humiliation, Ned.”

“True that,” Ned had snicked and jotted it down anyways.

And… well, Gotham had a lot of villains. The Joker (ew, that’s a crusty man in crustier face paint. This guy could learn so much from the cool mimes busking in Central Park. Like, how to do face paint. Or how not to be a massive murderous jerk. There’s Clayface, Two-Face, a bald guy in “Metropolis” (a name Peter couldn’t help but snort at because a city named city? That’s like na’an bread being bread bread. Or chai tea being tea tea) named Lex Luthor, and Scarecrow. He tabbed all of them and marked them for further perusal at a later date. From experience, he knew villains with a prominent M.O. and themes usually did more damage. Case in point: Rhino, and the million dollars of property damage the guy did everytime he escaped the Raft. Peter was seriously considering petitioning for the Raft to be placed further out just so he could have more warning the next time some assholes decided to free the prisoners and helped them escape.

He narrowed his eyes at the screen, his mask’s lenses following the movement. He’ll have to pick up a gas mask. Apparently bio-weapons are just a regular thing here and he really didn’t want to get dosed with this “fear toxin.” It’d be dangerous for everyone involved. Maybe if he gets his hands on a sample, he could build up tolerance and see how his immune system and metabolic rates affected the normal progression of the toxin. Ah, off topic. He’s gotta focus.

Subcategory B: Local celebrities.

“Why would I need to know local celebrities?” He’d asked.

“If someone came up to you and asked “Who’s Tony Stark?”, wouldn’t you clock that as super weird? You gotta blend in, Peter. Plus, you gotta keep up with the pop culture, dude. It’s important.”

“You just want alternate universe memes,” Peter grinned.

“That too. If you ever go to an alternate universe and come back, you’d better bring me a truckload of memes or I’ll never forgive you.”

Yeah. So. Wayne? Super important. Like Tony Stark levels of important. He found threads about them and the local vigilantes and their charity works. Peter’s brain instantly catalogued the info, all but memorizing the deluge of pictures he found of Bruce Wayne and his kids. Maybe the man had an adoption problem? Conspiracy threads and memes popped up alongside his research. He tabbed one on secret societies, because as Spiderman, he had fought a disturbing amount of secret societies that, on hindsight, had been theorized about on threads he’s read on his free time. Somehow, somewhere, somewhen, a conspiracy theorist could be right. Peter’s not about to dismiss that. He also saved like thirty different memes to send to Ned when he got back. If he got back.

Peter smacked that thought away. He’ll get back to his city or die trying.

Subcategory C, underlined and starred: Other Superheroes and Vigilantes.

Yeah, Peter’s excited about this one too. After Matt stopped being Dare Devil (but did he actually ever stop?) and Wade dipping in and out of NY, Peter’s gotten lonely as Spider-Man. He missed training with them. Of course, the fantastic four were still operating, but he doesn’t actually interact with them or the Avengers at all. Miles hasn’t been cleared (by his mom) to go out as Spiderman with near as many hours as Peter cleared a night. Peter stood behind that because he remembered how horrible it was to work as Spiderman and try to balance school on top of it. Also, he was terrified of Mrs. Morales and would never endanger her son more than he already does. He did wave to Black Widow from a rooftop once, spider to spider, and that was pretty much the coolest moment of his life.

So. Uh. The amount of vigilantes and heroes in this world? Amazing. In Gotham? There’s like, a whole team of them.

Batman, Nightwing (who, Username: Draken Draken had theorized, was the first iteration of Batman’s sidekick Robin), Red Hood, Black Canary, Huntress, Red Robin, Spoiler, the “day vigilante” Signal, the current Robin, and whispers of a “Black Bat.”

And their unfortunate “No Meta” rule with the singular exception of Signal. Peter figured their term of Meta was essentially the same thing as his world’s mutants. He’s not sure which term he liked more. Eh, he’ll worry about that later.

And there’s a Justice League! Which, to Peter, is just a bigger Avengers. There’s aliens on this world too. Superman. Martian Manhunter.

Peter grinned from his place crouched next to the dumpster. Yeah, this is awesome. He quickly memorized everything he could find, cross referencing posts and picking out the nuggets of truth or at least popular truth from the posts he viewed. Like, Red Hood operated in Crime Alley and was a crime boss with morals. Cool.

He’ll go down the spiral later. He mentally thanked Ned who was the best guy in the chair a teenage vigilante could ask for. He should really text his friend when he got back.

For now, he’ll head to the library and see if he could use their computers. He might need a card though… Peter quickly pulled up the search engine and found an Internet cafe. Ah, 24 hour internet cafes, the savior of his college days. There first, and then library, Peter decided. He memorized the instructions and pulled his mask off, tucking it away in the hammer space.

He walked out the alley and turned left, only to double take at his reflection in a shop window that was partially boarded up. Holy shit, he’s a baby. He’s like. 10!

Oh my god.

Peter twitched, tearing himself away from the window before the shop owner decided he was less curious and more potential mugger before promptly remembering that he looked less of a threat than ever. Mixed feelings.

Peter hurried his way to the internet cafe, paying the guy at the front a little extra so he’d ignore the obvious minor without a guardian thing Peter hasn’t gotten used to. Ugh. That was going to be annoying. He only paid for two hours and pulled up as many listings for a room as possible. By the end of it, he came out with $1 worth of fliers printed out and having funneled some billionaire’s offshore accounts into a new bank account he’d made by hacking into the bank servers. Does he feel bad about stealing? Yeah. But Peter’s a vigilante. He’s done worse than nabbing a monthly sum of a couple of hundreds from Lex Luthor’s off shore accounts. He’s not gonna get caught, and considering the guy’s rants on meta humans, Peter’s not feeling particularly guilty about it. He’ll do something good later to make up for it. Once he gets his footholds and can prepare his way back, he’ll even return to the rest of the money. Probably.

Peter left the cafe with his sheaf of flyers, stopping by an informational stand with free tourist maps and plucked one quickly from its plastic holder. He’ll pick something up from the food vendors on his way to the apartments. Peter began walking, taking in the sights of the gargoyles and-

“Nope!” He caught the wrist of a pickpocket. It’s a kid and he immediately felt bad.

“Lemme go. I ain’t done nothing to ya, ya Yorker tourist.”

“Okay,” Peter shrugged. “Don’t get caught the next time?”

The kid gaped at him. “Shi’, you must be really good at it. I’ve never been caught before.”

Peter wisely refrained from telling the kid it was due to his spidey-sense. He let go of the kid’s wrist and let a bit more of his accent out. “Why’d you need money anyways?”

“Food, duh.”

“Dude, I’m starving. Tell you what. You show me the best sub shop nearby and I’ll pay for your food. Deal?”

The kid stared at him, wide eyed. “You’re fuckin’ nuts. Why’re you being nice?”

“I’m hungry? Do we have a deal, kid?”

“… Fuck it. Fine. And don’t call me kid, shrimp. You’re like what, eight?”

Oh. Yeah. Peter’s a kid now. He shrugged.

“I’m older than you. I’m twelve.”

Peter blinked, frowning at how thin the kid’s wrists were.

“I’m Peter!”

“… Frank.”

He let Frank lead the way. Stranger danger doesn’t apply to him, he’s a grown ass man. In the body of a ten year old him, but still. A couple of minutes, four sandwiches and a load of chips later, Frank was watching wide eyed as he demolished three four dollar subs.

“Holy shit. Where are you packing that away? You’re a stick!”

Peter took a big bite of the sandwich as an answer. Frank looked down at his meal.

“Uh. Hey.”

Peter made a muffled noise of question, mouth stuffed full of steak and cheese.

“Sorry about. Uh. Trynna nick from ya.”

Peter chewed faster.

Frank continued, looking like he hated himself. “I wouldn’t… normally steal from shrimps like you but I was desperate and… really hungry, so. My bad.”

Peter finished chewing. “All good, dude. Eat your sandwich.”

Peter had the sudden urge to adopt Frank. Unlike Wayne, he’s not a billionaire, so he smacked that urge down. He could use a friend though. Now… how to be friends with a literal child!

“If you feel that bad about it, you could… be my friend?”

Peter took in the wide eyed gaze from the twelve year old in front of him. Abort! Abort! That was too direct!

“You’re fucking weird. But… okay.”

“That was easy.”

Frank scowled, kicking Peter’s shin.

“Ow!”

“Whatever, shrimp.”

Peter scowled. On his baby face, it came out as a pout.

Do not start beef with a twelve year old, Peter. You’re a grown ass adult.

“Hey, you know I’m new here, right?”

“Duh.” Frank took a bite of his food.

“Can you tell me which one of these are legit?” Peter handed Frank the flyers. He took them, an odd look passing his face.

“You’re looking for a place?”

“Yeah? Why?”

Frank stared at him. Looked back down. He instantly got rid of four listings out of the ten. “These are too close to the Alley. They’re probably traffickers.”

Peter hummed in agreement. Frank paused.

“You’re just gonna trust me on that?”

“Yeah? I can tell when people are lying.” Well, his spidey sense could, when he cared enough about the subject.

“What the fuck.” Frank shoved the rest the papers at him and guiltily munched on his food. “Are Yorkers all just like you?”

“Dunno? Probably not.”

“… Whatever. The rest of the places should work. They probably won’t ask questions.” Frank flapped a hand at Peter’s new situation. Yeah, the shortness was getting to him too.

Peter nodded. Obviously, they were the more expensive places, but considering the new found resources he’d… acquired during his time at the cafe, it doesn’t really matter.

“Cool! Wanna go see it with me?”

Frank immediately took on a suspicious glare. “Why?”

“I dunno? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought since you know your way around…”

“Ugh. Fine. But if there’s anything shady, I’m fucking dipping out.”

“Okay!” Peter grinned for the first time the couple of hours he’d been trapped in this new world.

——

They’d found an apartment with a landlord that got a weird, sad face when she was talking to them about the apartment. After like, an hour of walking around and Peter’s spidey sense screaming at him not to even go near the places Frank had left in the pile of maybe’s.

“We walked all the way here. Ya not even gonna go in?”

“The vibes are off. It’s a no.”

And because Peter’s a genius idiot with no self preservation, he’d marked the places to investigate later.

Frank had blinked at him, mildly offended and nonplussed. After a while of spluttering, he just gave up. Eventually, they got here.

“I don’t normally rent to kids,” the landlord lady said. Peter immediately liked her. “But I’ll make an exception if you’ve got the cash.”

“I’d like to see the unit first, please” Peter said. He’s not stupid, and Gotham’s renting scene is both easier and harder than New York.

They toured it. Peter? He’d seen worse. He’d lived worse. Also, it had two bedroom and was $620. Yeah, Peter was really considering just staying here full time and commuting to his New York when he wanted to be a vigilante.

“I’ll take it, ma’am.” The landlord and Frank both snorted, sharing a Gothamite look.

“It’s Georgie, to you, brat. You just need the first month’s rent, since I’ll wave the deposit for you shrimps. Utilities included. Your friend stayin’?”

“No-” Frank had started.

“Yep!” Peter beamed, interrupting his new friend.

“What?” Frank turned, gaping again at this weird little kid who had enough money to rent a place and then invited a whole ass street kid he just met to live with him. “Are you stupid?! What if I rob you? Huh? I don’t need charity!”

Peter slowly looked around the empty unit.

“Uh.”

“No, that’s not the point!” Frank pointed a finger at Peter. “That’s how you get yourself killed!”

“But that’s why you should stay! I don’t know my way around Gotham so…”

Peter looked up at Frank, using his shortness for maximum devastation. “Please?”

Georgie leaned back on the heels of her feet, silently laughing. It’s not every day she sees a Gothamite street kid get out stubborned by an outsider, but she knows better than anyone that Gotham is weak to genuine kindness. And this Peter kid, the one that reminds her so much of her own? He’s practically filled with it.

“Yeah, kid,” she said to Frank, snickering. “Look at him. He’s gonna get mugged two steps into the Alley. Or anywhere.”

Frank flailed, but eventually, Peter handed over the money to an amused Georgie who gave them two keys in return and a move in gift of a pot pie.

“I gotta. Uh. Go get my stuff.” Frank had mumbled, dazed at whatever the hell just happened.

“Okay! I’ll see if I can go get furniture!”

“And lift them with your shrimpy arm? You wish.”

“I can use a cart.”

And really, he could, because Gotham had a lot of abandoned carts laying around. Like a concerning amount.

“Can you even reach the handle?”

“I’m not that short!”

Frank snorted, Georgie’s own chuckles following a beat after. Peter scowled at them.

“Be right back,” Frank promised, holding the key like it was treasure. He had been homeless for two and a half years now, so in his eyes, that key was as good as gold. He had somewhere warm to stay. Trying to pickpocket Peter was the best mistake he’s ever made in his short life. But he didn’t want to take advantage of that, well, no, he did want to, but he doesn’t want to take the genuine kindness for granted so he’ll see if there’s any street furniture he could haul back on his way.

“Okay!”

Georgie watched him go and turned to Peter.

“If you need stuff, there’s a thrift store and a grocery store that way.” She gave him the directions.

——

As soon as Frank and Georgie left, Peter immediately left his new place (and holy shit, he really didn’t expect things to be this easy. In New York, he had to spend at least a week checking out places because he had to figure out whether the problem that cause subtle twinges with his spider sense was worth living with. Here? It’s too obvious.) to buy supplies. He had $400. Until his new card came in, at least. He’d put his new address into that bank account addressed to a “Anthony Benjamin” before ordering a “replacement card.”

Peter ran to the thrift store, hurrying before the last traces of the sun dipped below the smog of Gotham. A frankly absurd amount of blankets, towels, pillows, clothes, packaged boxers, socks and shoes around his size went into the cart. To his chagrin, Peter couldn’t actually see much over the cart. Why the hell was he such a short ten year old? He blasted through the store, also guesstimating Frank’s sizes. He tossed in curtains, a used set of glow in the dark stars, and a lamp.

He also grabbed mismatched mugs, bowls, a bundle of cutlery, and a dented microwave he casually pretended to struggle getting onto the bottom part of the cart. It’s like lifting grapes for him, but he looks like a ten year old so…

He, guiltily, bought a mildly fancy camera in a set, with two separate lenses, even if one was cracked.

Not bad, for $150 total. Peter is going to definitely seriously consider commuting to New York. They didn’t even care when he walked out with the cart! Well, that might be because of the cashier who gave him a pitying glance.

He stopped by a general store on the way back, parking his cart in a rapidly shadowy alleyway. He swung by the new section of the store that reminded him of a Dollar Tree and got cleaning supplies, toiletries, and two pans and a pot. He grabbed some canned food and a couple of frozen meals in the back. Seasonings, ramen, general pantry staples went in. A role of paper towel. Nice. Venom would have loved this store. With half of his budget blown for essentials, Peter quickly cut his spending off and

He quickly gathered his stuff and went back to the apartment, using his strength a bit to lift the full cart up the stairs at the front doors and into the elevator. It creaked like the first time they used it to go see the apartment, but it worked. Peter set everything up in the living room, pillow and blanket wise, and put everything in its proper place. The lamp was put up, giving more light than the old bulb in the ceiling light.

All Peter wanted to do was pass out, but since his dumbass took in a child, he couldn’t sleep until this place was relatively fit for a kid to live in. He also wanted to wait for

So, that’s what he did. Taking a sponge and the cleaning supplies he’d picked up earlier, Peter tackled the living room, scrubbing away at old stains and spraying mildew. He marked trouble spots- like that splinter worthy piece of floor next to the doorway leading to the hall between the bedrooms. Then the kitchen. By the time Frank cautiously peeked his head in from the front door, Peter had already finished scrubbing the over.

“Hey.”

Peter turned, grime on his face but grinning. “Hey!” I bought some stuff!”

Frank snorted at his face before glancing around the living room, eyeing the cart parked neatly on the side.

“So you did. Didn’t get mugged, did ya?”

“Rude. No, of course not.”

Frank gave him a… frankly… unimpressed look and dumped his bag next to the pile of blankets and pillows Peter had piled onto the floor. Sue hi’, they didn’t have beds yet.

“Got somethin’ for ya,” Frank said neutrally before dragging in…

“A coffee table!” Peter bounced towards Frank, hugging him before lugging in the heavy wooden table in. “You’re the best! Where’d you find it?!”

The tension, anxiety about Peter’s reaction, in Frank’s shoulders relaxed and the kid grinned. “Alley. Some asshole just left it there for anyone to hit with their car so I took it.”

“Nice! We can eat on this!”

——

When they were getting ready for bed, Peter insisting on showers for both of them, Frank had reared up at the clothes Peter bought for him. Peter pretended like he didn’t see anything and shove a whole tube of toothpaste and a new toothbrush at him.

“Ew. Do I have to?” Frank asked, wrinkling his nose but taking the items anyways.

“Yeah.” Peter said seriously. Frank gave a moment to wonder why he was taking orders from an eight year old before shrugging. He could brush his teeth in exchange for a roof over his head, food, and clothes. It’s not even a fair trade, for Peter, anyways. Frank was enough of an alley rat to take advantage of that.

——

When Frank passed out, Peter couldn’t sleep. He’s exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep.

So he took his new camera and climbed the fire escape to the roof top.

An hour later, he met his first vigilante.

“Hey, kiddo. I’m gonna need you to back away from the edge.”

“Woah!” Peter startled, jolting slightly off of the ledge he was balanced on. He twisted around to see Red Robin, hand outstretched and panicked look in his eyes.

“Dude. Warn a guy!” Peter said, even though his spider sense warned him of an approaching person that was actively watching him.

Red Robin held his hands up. “My bad. Would you- uh, not be on that ledge?”

“Yeah, sure. My bad, bro.” Peter obligingly stood up and stepped away from the ledge. Red Robin relaxed then did a double take. Peter frowned. Is there something on his face?

“What are you doing up here, kiddo? It’s late.”

Peter decided to scope out the vigilante. “Couldn’t sleep,” he held up his camera. “I’m taking pictures.”

“Oh. That’s cool! Can I see?” Red Robin approached warily, but relaxed when Peter didn’t spook and try to take a shortcut to ground floor.

“Sure! It’s a new, well, not new but new to me, camera so I haven’t had all that time to mess with the specs but the pictures turned out pretty good-”

“Oh, woah. This one’s great. That composition? Amazing. You caught the light perfectly,” Red Robin complimented. Peter brightened, knowing a photography fan when he hears one.

“Photography buddy!” He cheered.

They talked for an hour after that, but Red Robin quickly sent him to bed once he remembered the time.

“Ah, shi- crap. It’s like 2AM. You’ve gotta go to bed.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry if I interrupted your patrol, Mr. Red Robin!”

“No problem, kid.” Peter slipped back down the fire escape, not caring if the vigilante saw where he lived.

——

Up on the rooftop, Red Robin pressed a hand to his comm.

“Red Robin to Nightwing.”

“What’s up, Red?”

“Do you have a kid you don’t know about?” Tim said, bluntly.

“… What?”

“Oracle, can you share my cowl footage?”

“Copy. Oh, that kid…”

“Looks exactly like Wing?” Tim said, peering down at the empty fire escape. “Yeah. Talked like him too.”

“Oh my god, he’s adorable.” Oracle said. Tim agreed. That curly hair? Baby face? Adorable. A bean. “Did you get DNA?”

“Ah, shit, I knew I forgot something.”

“Do not break into his place and nab a hair,” Nightwing reprimanded, but his voice sounded distracted.

“Holy shit, you guys nerded out about camera placement and lighting for an hour?” Hood piped up.

“Get some rest, Red Robin. You’ve been working too hard,” Batman grunted through the comms. Awkward… but he’s been getting better at communicating his worry for his kids.

“Sure thing, B. Heading back to the main cave. Red Robin out.

——

Peter: lay low and get home

Also Peter: talks to a vigilante

None of them think Peter’s Nightwing’s yet. Peter will know before them… eventually. Once this world’s version of him gives up his memories to be absorbed by AU Peter.

[wonwoosthetic]

Hi! So I have a newer idea for Daryl that popped up in my mind while shopping today. It's 100% okay if you don't want to write this, though! It is kind of long so I completely understand if you don't feel like writing this 💜

Basically, Daryl meets reader, aka Shane's fiancé, at the quarry and could instantly notice how toxic Shane was to her. She wasn't allowed to really talk to any of the guys in the camp and was forced to do most of the laundry to keep her from interacting with the rest of the group. However, one day while Shane's off doing you-know-what with Lori, Dale sends reader to go hunt with Daryl with a compound bow that he'd found. To Daryl's surprise, she's amazing at hunting and they have a little convo about Shane. They then stumble across Shane and Lori going at it like rabbits but silently retreat, not making a scene. Back at the camp, when Shane returns, reader simply just places the ring back in his hand and tells him they're over. Being free to do what she wants, she starts getting closer with Daryl over the next month or so, and when they get to the CDC, her and Daryl have this cute moment with a few people watching them and then Glenn, in his drunken stupor, makes a comment about what a cute couple they are. Cue the sudden realizations from both sides that they like each other. Can end with a confession or not. <33

a/n – first of all, to everyone who reads this: you better check Krys out! I am absolutely IN LOVE with everything she writes (Daryl and Hazel is my favourite but literally everything is a masterpiece!) second: to get a request from one of my favourite authors on this app here is an ABSOLUTE HONOUR and I truly truly hope that I could somehow reach your expectations!!!! Thank you so much for sending me it, and I really hope you and everyone that reads this enjoys it ˙ᵕ˙ thank you for marking my start in writing for Daryl now too!😊

A little side note: surprise, I still can’t write short stuff, but bc tumblr is a bitch and is messing with long stuff I post, I decided to make 2 parts, so I can truly involve everything I planned, I hope that’s okay!!🤍🤍

masterlist

word count – 7.4k

pairing – daryl dixon x fem!reader, shane walsh x ex!fem!reader (rarely)

warnings – cursing, mentions of sex, infidelity, toxic man

Don‘t Talk To Strangers Or You Might Fall In Love – Pt. 1

Later in the evening, the women gathered down at the quarry once again. With each holding onto a basket of some sort, carrying the laundry of the rest of the camp residents, they had found their usual spot by the water. Their hands were already starting to get wrinkly by the amount of clothes they had to wash - it had only been a couple of days, and there was already a pile of it.

A wince from the oldest woman of the group made all three heads snap towards her, their eye following her carefully.

"Everything okay?" Jacqui asked, stopping mid-movement before she set down the soaked t-shirt she was holding.

Carol was quick to brush off her concerned tone, sending the woman a quick tight smile as she re-adjusted her position on the ground.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she cleared her throat. "Just... a stone."

The other women shared a quick knowing look. Yes, the surface they were sitting on was mostly stone, but not enough to get hurt or even wince the way Carol just did. She must've hit one of her bruises against the hard ground. One of the many that decorated her skin. While some of them she had clearly been able to hide underneath her clothing, the women couldn't help but notice the ones on her arms. And while some seem to fade, it didn't take much longer for new ones to appear just a day later.

"You know," Amy jumped into the conversation. "You... you don't have to share a tent with him." Everybody immediately knowing, who she meant. "You could stay in the RV, or-"

"I'm okay, Amy. Please." Carol's tone made the younger woman stop again, going right back to the task at hand. While you had hoped you'd go back to finish off your work in silence, Jaqui had other plans as she raised the volume of her voice to reach you, who was sitting a little further off.

"Well, speaking of shitty husbands." Getting a scoff out of the older woman. "Where's Shane, Y/N?" A chuckle erupted from Amy. 

"Huh?" Your head shot up at the mention of his name. You found three awaiting pairs of eyes fixed on you, sending an uncomfortable rush down your spine.

"Where's your husband?" Amy repeated the question, her voice holding a slightly more gentle tone.

"He's not my husband. Just... fiancé." You shrugged. "I don't know...," mumbling as you were almost too embarrassed to admit. "He said something about going hunting."

Jacqui let out an annoyed huff of air. "That was hours ago. It's getting dark soon, doesn't he think-"

"I trust him to know how to keep himself safe. He knows what he's doing," you told her mindlessly, pouring the now dirty water back into the river in front of you. 

You knew how most of the group felt about Shane. He had declared himself as the leader of your little group, thinking his status as a sheriff made him the right fit despite some of the eye-rolls and annoyed sighs it had gotten from the rest in return. It didn't seem to bother him, not even a little bit. You had tried to defend him, wanting to explain his plan of action and knowledge to the others, but he had shushed you down quickly. His own stance was enough for him to stand in front of the group of people, promising to lead them well and try to figure out how to move forward in the, what you'd now call, apocalypse.

While he was securing his place as the tough leader, commanding each person around and giving them a set role in the group, you had tried to find a sense of community. If you were to go and travel further with these people, might as well try to create some form of comradery. But that was brought to a halt before you could even truly start. By Shane.

'They're not your friends. They're just random people. We don't know them and we don't gotta know them.' He had told you. You had tried to start an argument, wanting to explain that while you didn't know most of them just yet, you might as well start now if you're going to spend more time in an enclosed area with them. 

'Let's keep an eye out for Lori and Carl. She just lost her husband, for God's sake.' He never really explained just how he knew that Rick was officially dead, but the two members of the Grimes family seemed to be his only concern. The fact that you had known Glenn for a while now and considered him a close friend, almost a younger brother, didn't even register with him. He was just 'another dirty man, just like the rest of them' to Shane. He had made his opinion of the members of your group very clear. They're strangers. If it wasn't about Lori and Carl, it wasn't important. Why you were the one washing their clothes though was still beyond you though.

Jacqui was just about to open her mouth again, not wanting to drop the topic of conversation just yet, but a loud voice from up the quarry got your attention.

"Ya just don't give a shit, ya old bastard!" Daryl's uncanny accent echoed through the open area.

While a deep sigh tumbled from Carol's lips, Amy tried to ignore the fight a few feet away from you and Jacqui shook her head.

"These Dixon brothers, I swear to God... I don't understand why we haven't made them leave yet."

"Daryl's a good hunter," Amy commented quietly with a slight shrug.

"Yeah, and selfish," the older woman spat back, "And Merle? He's nothing but dragging everyone here down."

You decided to leave the scene in silence, not wanting to add anything to the conversation. You believed that everyone had a good reason for acting and behaving the way they were. You'd like to think that your good nature was part of the reason why Shane fell in love with you. Your years of dealing with children coming from troubled families had taught you that there's mostly good in almost everyone, just that most hadn't had the chance to find that side of them yet. In some ways, the Dixon brothers' attitudes reminded you of them. 

Back in the camp, you brought the washing bowl back to where the rest of the clean laundry was already hanging to dry. Before you could go any further, hoping to find some alone time in your tent, Dale's voice made you stop.

"Y/N!"

You looked up at the top of his RV, where he had secured a chair, a small table and an umbrella to keep the sun from frying his skin.

"Hey, Dale," you smiled at the older man, who copied your facial expression. While some had come to find him to be a 'typical grumpy old man' - and by some you mean Shane - you and Dale had gotten closer over the short time you had spent in the group. He reminded you of your dad, who at that point in time was God knows where. You hoped he found a group similar to yours and was trying to find his place in the world you would now be living in.

"You know how to use a bow and arrow, right?" He asked you, remembering the story you had told him.

You nodded, shielding your eyes with one hand as the sun was starting to make them hurt. "My dad taught me a little, why?"

"Look what I found," he grinned before turning around to pick something up. He crouched down, now with a compound bow in his grip as he tried to get it down to you. With quick steps, you got closer, your eyes brightening up at the sight.

"Oh my god... Dale!" Your smile only widened once you got your hands on the bow. You let your hand glide over the metal, finding it to be heavier than expected. It was still in perfect condition, but you couldn't even finish admiring it before your eyes found another item being dropped down at you.

"Those were next to it," Dale added as he handed you a bag holding multiple arrows that were hopefully supposed to go with the bow. He watched your smile as you couldn't take your eyes off the archery tool. "You think you know how to handle that thing?"

"I mean... my dad taught me how to use a longbow, but... can't be that hard, right?"

The older man couldn't even answer you as a scoff erupted from behind you, followed by the familiar scruff voice of Darly.

"Ya think it's that easy." Stating it more than wondering. Knowing not to start a conversation with him unless truly needed, only able to imagine how Shane would react if he found you talking to him, you decided to ignore his comment, focusing back on Dale who seemed to have done the same.

"Where did you find it?" You asked him.

"Oh just... from a house a few minutes away. Thought you could use it."

"I don't know when yet, but... I'll try," you smiled at him.

"How about you go and try it out now?" He suddenly asked you.

His question made your head shoot back up to look at him in wonder. "Now? What do you mean?"

He sighed. "It's gonna get dark soon and Shane and Lori aren't back yet, we should try-"

"Lori?" Her name fell from your lips as you glanced around the area, only finding the youngest Grimes sitting in the grass, entertaining himself with some sticks and stones. "Where is she?"

Dale shrugged. "Said something about finding berries and whatnot-" Another scoff from behind you made him stop to shoot Daryl an annoyed glance. "I think we should try to at least get something to eat for the kids. And if they're not back anytime soon, they won't have dinner."

"What? My huntin' skills ain't enough for you, old man?" The younger Dixon brother shot up from his crouched position on the floor, nudging his head up at Dale, who was clearly annoyed by his attitude.

"A squirrel isn't gonna feed an entire group. Take Y/N with you and try finding something."

"Dale-"

"Shane's not here, honey," he immediately stopped you, apparently already knowing what your argument would be. "I think he'll be okay, knowing you were out finding something to eat for the kids."

"That asshole would rather watch 'em kids die than send her huntin' with any of us!" Daryl spat back, ignoring you standing right next to him.

He turned your head towards him. "Don't talk about him like that." Speaking to him in a much softer tone than he just did, only getting a shake of his head and an annoyed mumble in return before he turned his back towards you, making his way towards the woods. A quick glance back up at Dale made him nudge his head towards the direction the archer had just disappeared into. You could either get sulky and refuse to go with the man who had clearly other interests than to go hunting with you or you could be the bigger person and focus on bringing something into the community. Even if that meant rebelling against your partner's order to stay at the camp and focusing on the laundry in the quarry. You decided on the latter, knowing that he'd find something to get annoyed at one way or another.

With a sigh, you nodded to Dale's proposal and swung the bag of arrows over your shoulder. Turning around to follow the way Daryl had just strutted, your eyes found his silhouette already between the trees. It was uncanny. Anyone could tell it was him. His zero-fucks attitude and his arms just casually hanging by his side- The pop of his hips with each step he took just underlined the sass that man possessed almost making you chuckle.

Unlike a lot of the other members of the group, you didn't necessarily dislike him. His brother was a totally different subject. They were difficult to deal with and most definitely not the teamwork type of personalities - not directly at least. You had noticed the multiple times Daryl would vanish from sight, only to come back a few hours later with a few dead squirrely thrown over his shoulder, that he would then give to the group after skinning them. It was absolutely disgusting, to say the least, but he did his part to be a valuable part of the community, even if he might had been a unique character and more challenging to deal with. 

What Merle's issue was, you had yet to discover, but the man didn't intrigue you enough to bore into his background story.

A good few minutes in, you still hadn't caught up with the archer, his steps being way bigger and faster than yours. Panting, you hoped he would hear you.

"Can you slow down for a second? Please."

Not following your words, Daryl kept up his pace, only turning his head slightly. "Don't need yer husband to see us together out'ere or we'll be the ones rotatin' over the fire instead of a dear."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his comment, even scoffing loudly at what you had just heard, and mumbling too quietly for him to hear.

Your reaction made him suddenly stop in his tracks and turn his entire body towards you. "What? Ya think I'm kiddin'? I seen the way he talks to ya and everyone else in that godforsaken camp. Treats everyone like shit if it ain' abou' that woman or the kid."

Your glare didn't even intimidate him a bit. Neither did he budge when you took a daring step closer to him.

"How about you focus on yourself and stay out of other people's business? He's trying to be a leader, alright?"

"More like tryna be a dictator. Mussolini woulda loved him." Without another word, he turned around to continue his way further into the woods, leaving you in slight surprise rooted into the ground. A shake of your head and a deep breath brought you back into the present, making you follow him again. You tried to keep the distance between big enough to keep him away from you, let close enough to still have him in view - you sure as hell weren't going to get lost in the middle of the woods.

Looking down to be careful about each step you took, you held onto the strap across your chest. With your view on the ground, you didn't notice Daryl having stopped again, making you suddenly bump into him.

"Oh- sorry." You took a quick jump back.

He had lifted up his arm to the side, keeping you from going any further. Only after looking up, you could follow his gaze, finding what had gotten the archer so enthralled. Between the bushes surrounding you ahead on a tree, there were two chipmunks perked up on a branch. They hadn't noticed you yet and if it hadn't been for Daryl's eagle eye, you had to admit, you would've overlooked them as well.

Suddenly, overly confident, you realised this was the moment you could prove your skill. A skill you hadn't trained for in a few months, but you had long enough training before that, you believed. Swiftly, you grabbed a bow from the bag on your back and took a slow step back, careful not to make any loud noise to disrupt the two animals. Daryl had his crossbow already sitting on his shoulder, his eye trained on the chipmunks as he kept totally still.

"On three," you whispered as you drew the bow in your grip. You couldn't see the archer's slight confusion as he didn't budge, only knowing he had heard you when he suddenly started counting down. As soon as the number 'three' left his lips, you let your arrow shoot through the sky, him going at the exact same time, pressing the trigger on his crossbow. The two bows hit the chipmunks perfectly in sync, making them fall from the branch and onto the floor.

"Yes!" You whispered to yourself in a cheer, brushing past Daryl with a wide smile on your face as you made your way over to where your prey was waiting for you.

The man continued to stand still, only his eyes following your movements as his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. Only a few seconds later, he found you standing up straight again, proudly holding up one of the chipmunks. He followed your steps, coming to a stop as he looked down at the other animal still on the floor.

"Was that beginner's luck or...?" He asked you as he gathered it off the ground and took out his arrow before taking its companion out of your hands to put both of them into the small bag he had secured by his hips. Your eyes drifted to his arms. Glistening in the sun behind you. He had been collecting dirt all over his body, but the sweat now on his biceps was making it look only half as bad.

You shrugged, not even trying to hide the small smile still on your lips. "Maybe a little since I haven't used one of these in a while," holding up the compound bow.

"Who taught ya?" In surprise, you glanced at him, not expecting to continue the conversation as you went back to resume your hunting journey through the woods.

"My dad."

You noticed his steps suddenly slowing down again, making you turn towards him in wonder. A finger brought up to his lips told you everything you needed to know. Daryl started looking around carefully, while you just turned in a circle, wondering what he had heard. And then you saw it. A 'geek', as Glenn had labelled them, was making its way towards you.

"How on earth did you hear that?" You whispered at him, but the archer just propped his crossbow up again, ready to take out the thing coming dangerously close towards you. The noises coming from the dead had only then started to register with you too. Maybe it was your hearing turning on you or maybe Daryl had just a trained ear. Realising that he was close to shooting again, you stopped him with a hand.

"Can I?"

With a careful look, he lowered his weapon again, motioning for you to go ahead, bringing a small grin to your face. His hand was quicker than yours as he pulled out a bow from your bag, handing it over to you before leaving you to do your thing. Drawing it tightly, you didn't let a lot more seconds pass before sending the arrow straight through the geek's eye.

"Fuck, yeah-" Grinning to yourself for a split second before you realised the words that had dropped from your tongue. "Sorry," you were quick to apologise, getting a look of pure confusion from Daryl in return.

"What? Ya not allowed to curse or somethin'?" Oh, if he only knew. After years of being with Shane, you had found yourself truly swearing off the usage of any curse words as your fiancé had labelled them 'unladylike', sending you a look of disapproval each time it would escape you accidentally. Strict looks had turned into warnings, which then turned into arguments, so you had just learned to bite your tongue.

You were about to head up to get it back, back Daryl's voice stopped you.

"Stay'ere." He walked past you towards the now truly dead thing to get your arrow back. After ripping it out of its head again, he took a good look around, turning his entire body before coming back to you.

"They're usually not alone," he pushed the arrow into your hands. "Let's see what else we can find and get the hell outta 'ere before it gets dark."

You just nodded in agreement before following him again. This time, you noticed walking side by side with him as he had slowed down his strides.

To you, it seemed like a relatively comfortable silence, but Daryl didn't agree with that apparently as his grunt slashed through it,

"Yer husband know you can hunt?"

A sigh evidently fell from your lips, but you were able to hold back a roll of your eyes. He was trying to keep up the conversation and you couldn't not admit that you quite enjoyed not necessarily having to walk in complete silence. Even if it meant talking about Shane apparently.

"Don't know," you shrugged.

"What d'ya mean, ya don't know? Yer never talked about that? Ain't he supposed to know ya inside out or some shit like that?" You knew, deep down his words held nothing but truth, yet, you had learned to ignore remarks like that, knowing that Shane was just a different kind of partner than most.

"Why should he know about something he's not interested in?" As long as you weren't out on your own and at home in the evening with a homecooked meal waiting for him, he had never truly cared about what you did. Lying, you'd be out with your friends for a few hours while doing something completely different had gotten you far. Him working late hours most days only helped. You never even thought about telling him about the childhood hobby you had started at 8 years old and had carried with you up until well into adulthood. While you had left home as soon as you had turned 18, knowing Atlanta was the place you'd want to study in, archery was one of the things that had kept you connected to home. To your dad.

"That don't sound righ' if ya ask me," he commented.

"Well," you couldn't help but sigh again, "good thing he's not your issue to worry about."

"But he is." His comment made you stop. Daryl was quick to notice you not walking beside him anymore, making him stop and turn. "I gotta worry about him havin' my balls on a stick if he sees me talkin' to ya."

"Then don't!"

"Then why d'ya follow me into the woods, huh?" It looked like you were about to start a fight with Daryl Dixon.

"Because Dale asked me to. Because no one trusts you to do anything good for the group on your own," you spat at him, continuing your way, making sure to bump his shoulder as you passed him.

The archer scoffed, "Yeah because everyone trusts ya lil' husband oh so much to care for every-"

You came to another halt. "He's not my husband! We're engaged, you ignorant fuck!"

"Oh, careful," Daryl eyed you, "What would'e say if he heard ya talkin' like that, huh?" Sending you a provocative look that made you take a deep breath in, trying to contain your anger.

"I think you got a brother to worry about, Dixon. Enough drama there, don't snoop into other people's lives."

That seemed to have done the job as he kept quiet while you walked ahead. It took a few seconds before you heard him behind you again, proud of yourself for leaving him stunned even if it was just for a short moment. You didn't want to snap at him like that, you had to admit. It just came out and if you could take it back, you would've. He wasn't directly snooping, you knew that. You weren't here to make enemies, at least you didn't want to. You desperately wanted to get along with everyone as best as possible. Not meaning that you'd have to become close friends with each person in the group, just good colleagues.

With your mind deep in thought, overthinking every word you had just dropped, you didn't notice the ruffling leaves close by. Not until you felt a tug on your arm that made you stop. Almost annoyed, you turned around, only to find Daryl lifting his finger to his lips, telling you to keep quiet. At first, you looked at him in confusion but the moment you heard a grunt, your ears perked up as you started to glance around. You had just ran into a geek with the Dixon brother reminding you that they usually travelled in bigger groups, meaning the possibility of another one being close by wasn't that small.

The grunting continued making your frown only deepen. It didn't necessarily sound like one of the dead, you realised. Daryl started moving around slowly and as quietly as possible, you following close behind, keeping ducked down just in case.

Suddenly, you caught another noise. One that sounded less like a grunt and more like a... moan? Clearly just as confused as you, the archer turned around to meet your gaze for a split second. 

With each step the two of you took further, the noises became much clearer. Shuffling leaves, grunts, and clear moans were now hitting your ear. One specific huff of air made a cold shiver run down your spine. It's like your body knew before your eyes could even see it.

Daryl and you hit a raised ground that kept you from seeing where the noise was coming from as you were still crouched down. But as soon as you let your back straighten, every last bit of air left your lungs. You saw the auburn hair spread out on the grass first. Directly next to it, an all too familiar head of black curls, the face deep in her neck, muting the moans coming from him. With each pound, they became heavier and louder. You already knew it. Right as Shane lifted his head though, you could feel yourself wanting to scream. And if it wasn't for the hand suddenly covering your mouth, you would've.

You were pulled onto the ground, back into your crouched position, and dragged back from where you came from. As hard as you tried to fight the grip the archer had on you, it was no use as he was clearly much stronger than you. The leaves and branches brushed against your pants as he kept tugging on you to keep you right up against him, not daring to loosen the hand covering your lip

Once it seemed far away enough for him, Daryl let go of you, letting you fall to the ground completely as you desperately choked up for air.

"You bastard-" You went at him, only for him to cover your mouth once again.

He pulled you in hard. "Ya screamin' 'ere and an entire hoard will hear ya. Keep quiet," he hissed at you in a whisper. You never noticed the soft specks of green that decorated his striking blue eyes. Not until then.

A quick moment of silence followed as your eyes suddenly filled with tears. Daryl's gaze softened immediately, removing his hand from you as if your skin had turned into burning hot metal.

While you had started to sob in the middle of the woods, trying to keep as quiet as possible, the archer didn't know what else to do, but to stand next to you, his eyes fixed on your shaking shoulders. He wasn't the right person to console someone. Nor did he even know how.

"I told ya he's an asshole," he mumbled, clearly not at the right moment as you sent him an angry frown.

"You didn't tell me sh-"

"I tried tellin' ya!" Raising his voice just a bit to turn his tone stern, yet keeping the volume low enough. "I told ya he ain't interested in anyone but that woman and her son."

"I want to go back," you sniffled, feeling your chest painfully tightening.

"Go back to 'em?!"

"Back to the camp, idiot!" You snapped at him, your hand flying up to your chest. "I feel like I'm gonna throw up." Trying to take deep breaths in that just continuously proved to be hard as you only choked up more. Coughing mixed with your sobs, you fell onto your knees, your hand clutching the very top of your chest as you tried to breathe.

"Hey-" Daryl fell onto the ground right in front of you, his rough hands grabbing you by your shoulders to pull you straight, trying to get you to look at him. "Calm down," he strictly told you.

"H-He-" you sobbed, "he... fucked her. He just-", coughing again as the air got stuck in your throat.

"I know- hey-" you lowered your head to look at the ground beneath you, only for Darly to grab your chin and make you look back up again. "He's a fuckin' idiot. Don't cry 'bout him."

"W-What did I do?" You asked, technically hypothetically, as you continued to choke on your own cries. "What do- How?!"

"Ya didn't do anythin'," he tried to console you. "He's a dumb fuckin' bastard. A coward. A stupid mongo-"

"Lori... I-I thought-," stopping yourself again as another sob shot through your body.

"It's okay," Daryl whispered, "don't fuckin' cry for 'em. Ya think they would cry for ya?"

"What about Carl?!" You ignored his comment, instead continuing to throw out whatever came to your head.

The archer shook his head, "That ain' your problem to worry 'bout."

"She- she just lost her husband... a-and now this?!" 

Before Daryl could say anything, you brushed off his hands from your shoulders and raked yourself up.

Still sniffling, you looked around. "We gotta go back." Noticing that the sun had already started to set and no one was supposed to be out in the dark.

With a grunt, he copied you, pushing himself up to stand again while his eyes continued to follow you as you tried to get yourself back together. You could feel his gaze burning holes into your skin, making you look up. Cheeks tears stained, burning read. Your eyes were swollen, still letting single drops of tears escape as you slowly managed to even out your breathing.

"Let's go back." You re-secured the bag and bog on your shoulder before turning around to walk to the camp. A sigh escaped Daryl's lips as he shook his head slightly before jogging up towards you, stopping you with his hands back on your shoulders. He swiftly turned you around, only to let go again, his steps slowing down to let you walk ahead. This time, in the right direction.

The way back was spent mostly in silence, only a few remarks coming from the archer each time he had to tell you to either turn right or left. In no time, you had come back, finding most of the group either already back in their tents or gathered by the SUV. The sun had fully set, now the only source of natural light coming from the soft glow of the moon.

"There you are!" Dale called out as soon as his eyes found you. The smile that had started to spread on his lips fell quickly as soon as you got close enough to him to let him see the dishevelled state you were in. "What happened?" He gasped, but you just shook your head and made a quick B-turn towards your tent. The tent you shared with Shane.

The older man's tone changed quickly, clearly blaming one specific person for your mood as he followed behind you not much later.

"What the hell did you do to her?" Dale snapped at Daryl, only to get a scoff in return.

"How abou' you ask her asshole fiancé." The Dixon brother left him with that, ignoring the looks of the people around them. He opened his satch to take out the two chipmunks you had caught, only to throw them onto a set-up table and disappear down towards the quarry.

In the comfort of the plastic walls, with the bow and arrows set down outside, you had let yourself let go one more time, the tears not needing more than mere seconds before running down your cheeks again. You couldn't continue crying about this.

'Ya think they would cry for ya?'

Daryl's words rang through your mind. You hated to admit that he was most probably right.

Your relationship with Shane wasn't tense. At least until a few months ago. It had always been a little bit more difficult than you would've liked to, but you remembered the words of your mother, saying 'marriage is hard', making you realise that most likely each couple had their fair share of issues to work through. And you and Shane seemed to just have a good amount of those. Either disagreements, discussions, or different ideas and wants. Everything from as simple as the colour of your living room walls, to which state you'd have your wedding in - since your grandma was almost bedridden, you had proposed to have at least the officiant ceremony in Ohio, but Shane was, surprise, against that.

You glanced down at your ring. A gold band, holding a small square diamond right in the middle. It was beautiful. Even though you had always solely worn silver jewellery and had mentioned the classic round diamond as your dream style. Still, you had accepted the proposal. You looked past the smirks he would send waitresses and secretaries. Ignored comments he made about other people in your life. You had even given in and promised him not to get too close to anyone in the group that was right outside.

It was never 'controlling' in your eyes. You didn't know any better. But while you had to lock yourself away, making doing laundry your only form of 'entertainment', he was having fun with a presumed widow. Whereas he had told you and everyone else that he would be spending the day trying to hunt down 'something big'. 

You shook your head. You had all the reasons to leave him already months ago and yet you didn't. A lot of your friends had told you you'd regret marrying him. But he had managed to get into your head, making you think that they were the crazy ones. That all of your 'dumb sorority girlfriends' had no idea what they were talking about.

Comments and stares were one thing you could look past, but cheating... you had to draw the line somewhere. You remembered all the times your college friends came crying into the dorm, sobbing into their pillows as they complained about their boyfriends fucking around with other girls on campus. Everyone would gather and support them with one opinion: dump him. Leave him. He doesn't deserve you.

'I told ya he ain't interested in anyone but that woman and her son.'

There was Daryl's voice again in the back of your head. Screaming at you. If even he could see it, yet you were too blind to realise it...

With one final deep breath in, you gathered the sleeping bag you had claimed for yourself into your arms, along with your pillow. You managed to drag everything out of the tent, suddenly feeling more free than ever.

Looking around, you found no one sitting outside anymore, indicating most had gone to bed, but the light inside the RV made you hopeful. You couldn't sleep in your shared tent tonight. Or ever again. And Dale was your only other choice. With everything packed in your arms, you made your way over to the vehicle, knocking on the door with your foot. Two voices made you look behind you, your face immediately falling when you found Shane and Lori coming back from the woods. They took their goddamn time.

The door opened, catching your attention again. Dale looked at you in confusion but before he could say anything, you beat him to it.

"Can I sleep here tonight?"

Forget about your age. Suddenly, you felt like a little kid again. Too scared to sleep on their own, begging their parents to let them sleep in their room.

"Y/N?" Shane's rough voice called out your name, making your heartbeat quicken.

You looked up at the older man in panic. "Please."

With no hesitation, Dale nodded, stepping aside to let you walk in, ushering you inside with his hand. Daryl's remark from earlier had engraved itself in his brain as soon as he found the sheriff strutting over to his RV in big steps.

"What is she doing, Dale?" He wondered, his voice holding slight anger to it. "Y/N!" He shouted out your name again, but you gave him no response.

The older man stopped Shane from coming any closer.

"You better leave, son."

"What the fuck did I do?!" He unknowingly asked before getting the RV's door closed in his face.

The moment silence took over the enclosed room, Dale turned to you, now sitting on the small sofa.

"What the fuck did he do?"

If there was one person in this apocalyptic world that you had come to trust, it was Dale. He had already let you into his home, he deserved to get a reason for it.

You could already feel the tears filling your eyes again. Both of you ignored the knocks on the door, the old man's eyes fixed solely on you as he sat down by the small dining table, ready to wait patiently for you to answer his question.

"He... he cheated on me...," You couldn't hold back the sob that followed. "With Lori." The added remark made Dale's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He leaned back into his chair, taking off his hat to run a hand through his hair as he huffed out a chunk of air.

"Daryl and I- we saw them in the woods-," You let your head fall into the palms of your hand. The old man was quick back on his feet, on his way over to you.

"Oh, honey," sighing out, but stopping as the heavy knocks on the door continued. With an annoyed huff, he rushed over to the door to pull it open.

"Get the fuck away from my RV!" Shouting at Shane, not even giving him a moment to answer as he smashed the door close again.

"I-I don't know what to do." You admitted in sobs, glancing up at the man as he got closer to you, making space to sit down next to you. A comforting arm found its way around your shoulder while his other hand rubbed your upper arm.

"That man doesn't deserve an angel like you," he whispered at you, hoping his calming voice would soothe your cries. "He clearly doesn't know what he lost with a stupid act like that."

"He proposed to me," you showed him the ring in desperation. "Only to cheat on me?"

"What can I tell ya, kid... young men are...," Dale sighed as he shook his head. "Dumb... and blind. They think they own the world."

You continued to sob in the man's arms. Listening to his soft voice as he spoke to you while you kept on your rambles of despair. Why Lori out of all people? You used to go out on double dates with your partners. You had known Rick Grimes for a good few years now. He was a good man. You had thought Lori was a good woman. But there she went, sleeping with an engaged man. The colleague, and best friend of her husband. Who may or may not be dead. Maybe Rick was gone, but you were still there. Only one partner of the cheating couple was widowed. The other part was still very much in a committed relationship. Or so you thought.

"W-What do I do now?" You wondered out loud. "How am I supposed to continue this?" Not necessarily talking about your relationship with Shane, but the situation altogether.

"You don't." Daryl's simple but straightforward answer made you look up. In the meantime, your sobs had quieted down again.

"What?"

"You tell him," he strictly told you. "You tell him what you saw. And you end it. Men like that... they don't change."

"God...," you fell back into the cushions behind you, running your hands down your face as you wiped the tears away. "Was I just... not good enough for him anymore? Why would he do something like this?"

"I wish I could tell ya, honey. But don't think that this has anythin' to do with you," Dale's stern voice made you glance at him. "Men like him don't think. You think he really thought of the possible consequences of his actions?"

You shrugged.

"He didn't. If he did, he wouldn't have done it. And men like don't deserve a second chance. Hell- they don't even deserve a first chance. But they're charming and whatnot, and before you know it, they're havin' their dicks in other women, breaking hearts of the ones that actually care about them."

You decided to stay quiet, letting his words sink in and register with you.

"You don't deserve that, honey."

Nodding your head, you took a deep breath in, wiping your nose. "I know..." With a sigh, you pushed yourself to stand up. "I have to talk to him."

"You sure, you wanna do that tonight?" The man carefully asked you, but you had already made up your mind, so you just continued to nod.

Quietly, you left the RV, of course not before Dale promised to set up a bed for you to stay in inside his movable home. You knew you had found the confidence to face your- Shane. Yet, your shaking legs and hands almost betrayed you. Realising, you didn't even truly think about how to start the conversation, the anxiety inside of you only started to bubble up more, hitting its highest point when you suddenly saw Shane exiting your tent.

His eyes fixed on you in the dark, finding your silhouette coming towards him thanks to the light shining through the RV's windows.

"Y/N-" he started, but you interrupted him right away.

"It's over."

Shane's eyebrows scrunched together. "What?"

"It's over," you repeated, finding your voice slightly shakier than you would've liked to. You glanced down your hands, almost mindlessly, wrapping your fingers around the gold band. Once, the sight of the shimmering ring on your finger made you smile, now it just shot another wave of sadness through your body. Almost shakingly, you took the last step, pulling the gold band off your finger, the metal leaving your skin, making you breathe out heavily.

"Hey- hey," the sheriff rushed closer to you, making you scoot back in reflex. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"What am I doing?" You spat at him, a salty chuckle tumbling from your lips. There was a slight change in expression on his face as he lifted his hands in defence.

"Listen-"

"No, you listen," you stopped him again. You didn't even let your brain think about what words were about to fall from your lips. "Don't even try-" You had to stop yourself, taking a deep breath in, trying to promise yourself not to cry in front of the man that you had lost so many nerves to.

"What the hell are you doing?" He continued to ask you, his frown only deepening.

But you just continued to shake your head, ignoring the anger starting to lace his voice. You had seen Shane angry before. Even angry at you. And it scared you. But right now, the anger, you were trying to hold back, should terrify everyone involved in this situation.

Taking a few steps closer to stop right in front of him, you lifted your hand that was still tightly holding onto the ring you had once worn and shown off proudly. Once Shane opened his palm underneath it, you let it drop down.

"It's over." Before he could ask you anything more, you left him with one last comment hanging in the air. "Have fun with Lori."

Turning around, you could hear his heavy huffs and the callouts of your name, yet he didn't even dare to try and reach out to you, leaving you to make your way back towards the RV. In the back, the sound of him knocking over some of the empty cans you had gathered, filled the silence. Up ahead, you found a silhouette standing still, almost scaring you if it wasn't for the distinct stance you were able to recognise immediately. The dim light illuminated Daryl's scowl as he had clearly watched the scene from a distance.

Arrived at the door of the vehicle, you wanted to at least send him a tight smile, a goodnight and somewhat of a thank you, but the archer had already disappeared again in his usual nature.

I CAN‘T WAIT TO POST PART 2🙈🤗🥰 I loved writing this so much omg

this is me officially stating I'm writing for the man that is Daryl Dixon now too :)

[iliadicjasontodd-moving]

re: the last post i reblogged. something i find fascinating about the newer comics’ insistence that every bit of jason’s life was hellish and then he died, no one ever having loved him or anything- his parents abusive, bruce and him constantly in conflict, his relationship with dick antagonistic or nonexistent- then it actually really reduces the tragedy of his death and his character as a whole in an attempt to make him more tragic, with the whole “just shove as many horrible events into this one character’s life as possible” heavy-handed-as-fuck method of writing tragedy that most writers are meant to grow out of before growing into a career. It genuinely is more tragic- and is the only way to make any sense of his expectations of bruce (and even dick, as much as i disregard bib as meaning anything)- that jason was deeply loved and good and that he died horribly anyway and has to pick up the pieces of that now. “The worst part of love is that I remember it,” and all.

[collecting-dustbunnies]

Obey Me Nightbringer Theory Time: MC is an Unreliable Narrator

Part 1: MC is an Unreliable Narrator | Part 2: A Clash of Ideals

What if the MC knows more than they are letting on? What if the MC's motives is different from ours, as the player?

(Disclaimer: Long post. Different from my meme content. Contains spoilers for all of NB and OG content. Also I may wake up tomorrow and cringe at this, but hopefully you can enjoy my delirium?)

OG = Obey Me Original

NB = Obey Me Nightbringer

It all starts from the beginning

We can see traces of this from when we first launch the game, with MC's first text messages with Nightbringer. And I'm not talking about the messages that we saw when the game first launched, but the new re-write of those same messages. You can compare the differences between the old texts and the new texts on @impish-ivy 's post here (thank you for allowing me to discuss it here). I'll include some of their screenshots as reference.

Let's take a look at the new version of the text exchange. Now, I don't know about you, but I have no idea what Nightbringer is talking about. But Sheep-chan apparently does! If MC answers that they think they understand what he's talking about, they get to keep their memories when they get sent to the past. But if MC says they don't have a clue? The game assumes that they have lost their memories. This seems like a strong indicator that MC knows something that we, as the player, do not know about Nightbringer and their powers. This exchange is very different from how things played out in the original version of these text messages where:

Yes I know them. Really well, actually = MC has their memories.

I don't know who they are = MC has no memories.

[The official reason for this change was "to make the game more enjoyable for new players", but I don't buy that. In the original version, it was quite clear which option you had to pick to signal to the game that you have not played OG. While in this version, it's way more convoluted, since the player will have no idea what Nightbringer is actually talking about. It just causes people who have played OG to accidentally signal to the game that they haven't. Why change the text to be even more confusing, when the original version would have sufficed for newer players?]

Now let's follow this line of thought for a moment. Nightbringer states that the MC has received "a second chance at a fated meeting", and MC has to answer that they think they know what this means if they want to keep their memories during the time jump. If they don't, then Nightbringer assumes that they have lost their memories.

Which leads me to believe that Sheep-chan is not entirely an innocent victim who was unwittingly sent to the past. Instead, they were a willing participant of the time jump. Maybe they have some understanding on how Nightbringer's powers worked and wanted to meet the brothers again. Maybe they too were curious to see what their ideal world looked like. With this idea in mind, let's re-evaluate everything MC has said and done in NB.

MC's interactions with Nightbringer (and Michael, I guess)

After the intro, the next time MC directly interacts with Nightbringer is in Lesson 12 of NB, where they get sent into a coma after breaking the rules at the Fountain of Knowledge. Let's look at what he says here for a moment.

The first thing Nightbringer asks MC is what they think of this world, a rather unusual thing to ask someone who is kinda sorta dying. If MC says they want to go home, Nightbringer expresses some confusion as to whether the brothers of this world are not to MC's liking. It makes sense for him to be confused here, since he sent MC to this timeline under the impression that they would like this world (or at least, view this world as a stepping stone to reach their "place of joy").

(Then again, if MC responds that they are enjoying this world, Nightbringer is even more perplexed that they can remain upbeat in such a precarious situation. But knowing what canon Sheep-chan is like, why is this surprising?)

After this, he explains that his motive is to lead MC to a place that will "bring [them] joy like no other". This fits what he had said in the beginning of the game:

"Shall I take you someplace you will be happy? Somewhere that will bring you more joy than any other."

"A world you desire, and where you will be desired."

- Nightbringer, intro text message

He then goes on to emphasise that both he and MC want the same thing. He comments on how MC has done a splendid job getting closer to Lucifer and his brothers. This is where I feel that Nightbringer was never MC's enemy, as both parties have similar goals, and they need each other to some extent. MC needed Nightbringer and other mysterious forces to set the gears in motion so that MC can become closer to the brothers, forge pacts with them, and reach their "ideal" world. Nightbringer wants to bring MC to this place of happiness, and he sees MC forming pacts with the brothers as the way to get there. In this case, Nightbringer is a co-conspirator here.

This idea then gets brought up again when MC sees Michael in Lesson 13, when he saves MC from their coma. He warns MC that the Celestial Realm would be less willing to tolerate their behaviour if they ally themselves with Nightbringer (which, is exactly what MC has been doing so far). Is Michael afraid of the MC trying to forge their ideal world together with Nightbringer? Or is he afraid that MC is getting tricked by Nightbringer?

This also explains why Nightbringer never interacted with MC again after this incident. Everything MC had done in NB was what Nightbringer had wanted as well. Nightbringer didn't need to intervene because everything was going according to his plan.

Comparison of MC's actions in OG vs NB

When we consider the fact that MC may have actually wanted to go back to the past and meet the brothers again, a lot of their actions (and even their inaction) makes more sense. When Solomon tells them they need to make the pacts to get back to their own time, MC is in no rush to obtain these pacts. In fact, they don't even think about making those pacts until Season 2 when they are faced with an ultimatum to make those pacts, which is, they have to forge the pacts before MC and Solomon lose their connection to their original time. This is different from the usual behaviour in OG, where they were extremely motivated to make a pact with every brother from Beelzebub -> Asmo -> Satan and employed help from multiple people to acheive this goal. They even took the initiative to ask Lucifer for a pact on the day before they left the Devildom, when they had no reason to do so.

This is very different from how Season 2 of NB played out, as MC simply waited around until each brother went beserk (in the case of Mammon, Asmo and Satan) before they even thought about proposing the pact. In Lucifer's case, even though MC (after much prompting) spoke up about needing to go back to their home, it was Mephistopheles advocating for MC that ultimately convinced Lucifer to let MC go. And later on, MC remained on the sidelines and let the other characters take the reign in rescuing Lucifer from Cocytus. Compared to the original game, where MC takes on a more active role in forming their pacts, MC is more passive in Nightbringer, simply biding their time until the opportunity to make a pact falls onto their lap. Is this how somebody who desperately misses their home and wants to go back ASAP would act?

Regardless of how you choose to play the MC as, they always express some hesitation in leaving behind the brothers of the past. No matter how many times you try to make the MC say they want to go back home ASAP, Lucifer will gaslight-gatekeep-girlboss MC into admitting that they do not want to leave. Simeon in Lesson 35 of NB even reaffirms this by saying "I'm sure you really feel that way deep down inside. Even if you don't realise it". Bruh.

But why? MC should know that their home is with the boys of the present timeline. Why has the MC never considered the repercussions of staying in a timeline that they don't belong in? Or even considered how Solomon could lose his powers for good because of MC's hesitance? Why had MC never once stopped to consider how the demon brothers they had left behind would feel about their absence? This shouldn't even be a dilemma.

Unless... this past was the place they wanted to end up in the first place. That, like Nightbringer had said, this place will bring them joy like no other.

As an aside: One of the few insights we get about Sheep-chan's inner thoughts is the nightmare they have about the brothers trapping them in the attic and preventing them from leaving (in Lesson 33 of NB). Which has horrific implications, considering the attic still did not exist at this point of time. Was Belphegor's imprisonment and the Lesson 16 incident so traumatic for MC that the attic is the place that they associate with imprisonment?

Note how some of the brothers keep suggesting that THIS is the outcome that the MC really wants. But this also provides another possible reason for the MC's hesitation to leave: The fear of how the brothers' of the past would react. The fear of brothers turning against them, despite everything MC had done to protect them. Speaking of what MC had done to protect them...

MC forging their place in the past Devildom

MC hasn't taken active measures to forge their pacts to return home, but you know what they have shown to be more interested in? Asserting their place in the Devildom of the past, and spending time with the past version of the brothers.

The best example of this is Lesson 11 of NB, where the MC hesitates to promise to Solomon to protect humanity, but with no hesitation, promises to take care of the brothers even with full knowledge that they would be punished for doing this. If we remember Lesson 35 of OG where MC, Solomon and the demon brothers went to the reaper's cave to break Beel's curse, Solomon was surprised that the demon brothers' punishments for breaking the reaper's rules (turning into a Little D) were so mild. It was implied that without MC unconsciously protecting them with their magic, the brothers could have died or been wiped out from existence upon breaking the rules.

A weakened MC of the past who retains their memories of this incident in the reaper's cave would know just how severe the backlash would be if they make promises in the cave. But this did not stop them from doing so anyway. This shows where MC's allegiance truly lies: Not with humanity, not with any mysterious forces at play, but with the demon brothers. It's hard to tell what the MC hopes to get out of making such a dangerous promise.

The most optimistic take is that they felt forced to prove their loyalty to Lucifer and his family by taking such a drastic action. After all, MC is used to sacrificing their life for the people they love. Throwing themselves at death is nothing new to them.

The most cynical take would be that this bold decision was actually a calculated move by the MC to assert their importance and their role in the demon lords' lives. To show just how bad things can get without them. To guilt-trip Lucifer and Belphegor who had doubted the MC's allegiance, so that they never doubt MC again.

Regardless of their motivation, the MC's actions showed that they are inseparable from Lucifer's family, and this incident served to further cement the MC's importance to them. This allowed MC to strengthen their bonds with the brothers once again. So that they can create a world they desire, and they will be desired.

Putting this all together

Obey Me: Nightbringer paints the image of a MC being ripped from their home and being thrust into an unfamiliar world. Yet, the MC's actions in NB tell a different story. It shows us that Nightbringer is turning the gears so that MC can go to a place surrounded by people that they love, and who will love them no matter what. Because it wouldn't be enough if the characters of the present were hopelessly in love with them, but the characters of the past should also feel the same way. Even if that is a world the MC does not belong in.

All I'm saying is, Sheep-chan is sus as heck.

[respectthepetty]

I’m so so sorry to be making you look at the creepy mask dude Petty but—

https://www.tumblr.com/blmpff/738799628371345408

We can agree that there’s TWO different masks here yes? In the first four pictures, the pupils are centered on the eyes and you can clearly see the fake blood around them even in the low light and from a distance. But in the last two pictures the pupils are off center and I can’t see any fake blood at all!

Two masks for TWO KILLERS PERHAPS?

I've been convinced there are two killers (if not three . . . where you at, Non?), so I find it interesting that Top played the masked killer in the new version.

Then was revealed as one of the masked killers at the beginning of episode four.

Because it plays into my theory that Phi and Tan, who I think are the real killers, are re-shooting the film as Non wrote it. Non suggested the original film be "found footage"

And the show is called Dead Friend Forever:

Uncovered Version

Por's house has a lot of security cameras which Phi knew where they were. Therefore, it's already being presented to us as found footage.

Since Por took credit for writing the original film and cinematographer when he was only the director, he was the first to go since this film has a new director and cinematographer - Phi. And the older driver was in the original as well, so he had to be brought back for this version.

In the original film, there were two masked killers: Tee and Non.

This is why White has to be the final girl gay because he'll be the second masked killer in the new version.

I do not think he is an actual killer, but for the newer version of the film, White is essentially playing Non, who was a masked killer and was paired with Jin in the finale, so perhaps the masks are different to distinguish between the "film killers" and the "real killers."

Since Jin is the main character, he gets to play his part again. Also, the poster in the room is "The Devil" so I think Jin is actually the worst of them all.

Which is why I am 97% convinced that Phi is a killer so his betrayal will be just as bad as Jin's was to Non.

And Tan just got the questions that need answers.

Plus he was the one to unwrap the mask when they started filming the newer version.

We have the concept.

We have the actors: Por, Fluke, Top, Jin, Tee, White.

We have the characters: Two masked killers and their victims.

Phi is the director and cinematographer and Tan is the art director.

They are about to Blair Witch Project their way into an award winning film, and it's gonna be a killer.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Anonymous said: it's wild the way alot of writers expect instant recognition of their writing, as if you just write something and share it or publish it, and that entitles you to instant sales and rave reviews. isn't that attitude how so many people don't succede as writers?

I do think there's a disconnect for a lot of people coming into publishing for the first time, whether they're posting online, self-publishing, or pursuing traditional publishing. I think a lot of the time these are either newer writers who've just jumped into the game, or longtime writers who never considered sharing their work before. And so they see these TikTok sensations and think, "I can do that. How hard can it be?" without really having any idea what it took for that book... let alone the author... to get there. They're not seeing the author's backlog of less popular books or shelved manuscripts. They're not seeing their early days on social media where they had thirty followers and had to fight to get even five or six likes on every post. They're not seeing the hours upon hours spent writing, revising, overhauling, re-drafting, editing, polishing... the months and potentially years spent in the query trenches, or hours upon hours upon hours of work to launch a book without the muscle of a publishing house. They're not seeing that some books have been out months if not YEARS before they go viral. Instead, they seem to think an author spent a few months writing a book, a few more months publishing it, and then made a million dollars and the NYT best-seller all in the span of the first week. Even with BookTok sensations, that's just not how it happens.

And yes... going into writing and publishing with such unreasonable expectations is a great way to set yourself up for failure. Which is why it's so, soooo important to spend some time researching whatever publishing route you want to pursue, be it online publishing, self-publishing, or traditional publishing, so that you can go into it with reasonable expectations. :)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

levi drabble? no. 12 please <3 ooh but flip the tables, its levi saying it or dont- okay i cannot decide-

I LOVE THIS???????

also i hope i characterized him okay enough lol. i'm writing this at work in between clients soooo

come torture me with this drabble challenge!

#12: "i wish you wanted me"

Want | Canonverse Fluff Oneshot

✧ word count ➼ 1k ✧ notes ➼ canonverse, captain!reader, mutual pining, this accidentally turned into a oneshot lol

"Captain? Captain, your orders?"

The scout's voice seemed muffled. All of Levi's senses seemed muffled. His gaze was only fixated on one side of the forest, desperately trying to pick up any visual or auditory cues.

"Captain?"

Levi finally got dragged back into reality with that third prompt from his subordinate. Having been fixated on only one thing, anything discussed within the past 5 minutes had been completely disregarded.

"What?"

"Your orders? There are Titans approaching from the left and right flanks," the scout said nervously.

It wasn't like Levi to be this scatter-brained. He always knew what it was that he had to do and he most certainly never missed out on vital information that was being told directly to him. He was overly distracted and it was affecting his ability on the field.

You were currently fighting on the left flank. Another newer squad was fighting on the right. He knew which side he had to go to for reinforcements.

He desperately wanted to go to yours. He wanted to make sure you were safe. He knew it wasn't anything other than a foolish, selfish emotional whim. You were more than capable of taking care of yourself and your squad. Strategically, he had to go to the right flank to maximize their chances of survival.

After clearing out the Titans, the Survey Corps formed a small fortified camp to rest and patch up any wounded before continuing the expedition.

You were currently in front of a campfire with your cloak and uniform jacket thrown off to the side. The only thing you kept wearing was the tank top that was usually underneath your uniform. The only reason for this was to expose your right bicep, which had gotten deeply scratched during your battle fending off the Titans. You had spent the last hour having Levi patch it up after he noticed you struggling to do it on your own.

He was awkwardly quiet the entire time, as if something was deeply on his mind.

"Did your squad do any better?" you asked, breaking the silence.

He grunted. "Not really, but at least no one died."

Simply being able to come out of an expedition without anyone dying was a miracle. Although no one on your squad died either, it was primarily because you had to go in multiple times to save them yourself. It probably would've been more efficient if you went in alone.

"You should really re-evaluate your squad," Levi said bluntly.

Your eyebrows scrunched together as you scowled at him.

"Don't be so arrogant," you scolded. "Not everyone has the advantage of your bloodline."

"Tch," he responded in irritation. Every single time someone attributed his capabilities to his Ackerman heritage made him want to punch something.

"It's not that," he said, matching your tone. "My squad doesn't need me to constantly risk my own ass to save them."

You rolled your eyes.

"Well, good for you, Levi. I'm glad that you're satisfied with your subordinates," you said dryly. "Can you quit being dissatisfied with mine?"

He let your arm go and set the bandages off to the side, irritated by your unexpected commentary.

"I'm not joking around, _____. You shouldn't have to be constantly risking your life out there because of your subordinate's mistakes."

You groaned and slightly pushed him away now that he was no longer treating your arm.

"Why the hell do you even care so much?"

Deep down, you knew. Deep down, he knew. It was quite a while ago, but you both could recall a time in which you two were dancing around the concept of romantic feelings for each other.

Of course, it never progressed to anything. It wasn't appropriate and you didn't want to start a scandal. He was still your superior at the time.

Levi parted his lips to speak, but it took a few seconds for any words to come out.

"I can't stop thinking about you when you're on the field," he said quietly. "And it's a pain in the ass to not be able to focus."

You blinked at him, confused as to where he was going with his comments.

"Why?" you asked. "Am I doing something wrong? I'm not your subordinate anymore, remember?"

He exhaled in almost what seemed like a defeated fashion as he looked away.

"I just," he said with his voice barely audible, pausing as if he was unsure if he should mutter the words that were about to come out of his mouth.

"I wish you wanted me."

Your eyes widened as those deeply buried thoughts and feelings were brought to the surface. You had assumed that he had moved on. After all, it has been some time that you had been promoted to a Captain yourself, yet it was never brought up.

You looked down and shuffled a bit, adjusting your position to be a bit more comfortable.

Finally, you looked up at him, seeing that he was now glancing at you too.

"Who says I don't?" you said quietly before shooting him a small smile.

You saw a sight that you never thought you'd see.

Levi Ackerman was paralyzed. He looked like he couldn't move. He looked like even if you reached out and pushed him off the seat that he'd remain unmoving.

Levi was not expecting your response. He had continuously told himself that you weren't interested and that anything resembling a confession would be a waste of time and would only bring him shame. He wasn't expecting anything good to come out of it.

"I'd be lying if I said that I never thought about how much I want you to want me too," you said, shifting a bit closer to him, placing your hand on his.

Feeling your touch oriented him back to reality as he looked into your eyes. He didn't know how to process this. He had held onto that feeling of rejection, telling himself that he never wanted to feel that way again and that he wouldn't put himself in that position again.

He never expected anything good to come out of those words that he had muttered—but it did, giving him something new, fresh, and hopeful to hold onto.

A/N: this is the pouty face i imagine him making as he says the line ;aljf;alksdf he's so cute i can't

[boxerharrys]

The New Girl Spencer x F Reader

sorry for any spelling mistakes or punctuations missing! and I'm not the best at writing but I was excited to get this out!

Part 1 ( trying to make this like a real fanfic a true story to it)

Description: you were a somewhat popular YouTuber on your own. you focused on vlogging and funny sketches through out college. you watched Smosh for years admiring their work. but as you join their crew after graduating you start to admire more than their work....

Sunday:

you spent the night finishing editing your vlog of the week and watching Smosh; they seemed to help you cruise through editing. until a newer Smosh video starting to play in the background you heard Ian mentioning how they were open for a new cast member; you stopped in your tracks of what you were doing 'I'm sorry what did he just say' you said in your head rewinding the video. "Since a lot of our members right now are soaring with new projects and opportunities we are open for a new cast member!' Ian said through your laptop. 'no way id get the gig' you thought to yourself, you've dreamed of working for Smosh for years. 'what would happen if I sent in a application... I mean doesn't hurt to try I guess' you said to yourself. you went to the description and clicked the link where applications were going through. Although you didn't have much going on you just finished college and didn't have a big resume but you did have your channel. you filled out all the paper work and sent a link to your channel, like you said not much going on so you don't even get excited. you then continue finishing your editing and schedule it to post for tomorrow at !2pm. you then got into bed with your laptop and continued your mini marathon of Smosh to ease you to sleep.

Friday:

It has almost been two weeks since you entered your application to Smosh obviously not even thinking about it since you doubted anything from the start. Until you were home working on some sketch ideas and you received an email from Smosh… ‘the fuck’ you said to yourself. ‘Probably telling me how they regret to inform me they picked someone else’. You didn’t even look at the email you knew there was no way anything was coming from it. Till you received yet another email this time from ‘selinagarcia@smosh.com' you froze; as you sat there frozen for a good you’d say 5 minutes but it was more like 45 seconds you finally went to open the email.

To: (your email) 

From: selinagarcia@smosh.com

Hello Riley my name is Selina from Smosh! You should’ve got an email from out regular Smosh email congratulating you on an interview with Ian, Anthony and I! Was just reaching out to see when the best time and day would work for you to meet with us! Let me know! Below in the address and times we are open to meeting!

Thanks!

Selina

You felt like you were going to throw up. You had to re-read the email at least 3 more times. ’There’s no way I got an interview’ you said to yourself. But then you said ‘shit I got an interview’ you went to email Selina back and told her a date and time you could meet, ‘how’s Tuesday at 8?’ You emailed back; giving you enough time to mentally prepare and physically prepare for whatever the hell kind of dream you’re in. You then started going through sketches you had and dealt with one you never actually ended up filming for your channel. You had a lot of inspiration from Smosh and their TNTL series so you had a lot of jokes for that situation if you were ever in a predicament that you needed jokes for something like TNTL. You then printed everything out that you needed for your interview since the first initial email said to have those ready when you come. You then received an email back from Selina confirming that day and time was great for everyone. You made the decision to take a bath; you needed to relax your nerves were through the roof. You started the water added some bubbles and went to your kitchen to pour yourself a glass of wine. After your 30 mins bath you went to your room an put Netflix on and went to bed. 

Finally it was Tuesday at 5 in the morning you were making yourself a cup of coffee considering you were so nervous you couldn’t sleep last night. Still chose to be up early enough to shower, pick a good enough outfit to compare to Courtneys awesome fits she usually wears, your make up, and hair. The Smosh office was 25 minutes away from where you live so it was finally time to leave; rushing out the door you did a full 180 remembering your paperwork you needed.

Once you got to the office there was a buzzer at the front door. 

You press the button.

“How can I help you?’ Selina says through the speaker

“Hi its Y/F/N I’m here for an interview” 

“Yay come on in” Selina says as she buzzes you in.

You took the your atmosphere in, not believing what you’re experiencing since Smosh was your childhood and you’ve watched them every year of your life. 

You were then met with a happy lady that you knew was Selina!

“Hi it sonic to meet you I’m Selina! We are so excited to talk with you today! 

She shows you to the conference room passing some of the cast and crew; where you’re met with Ian and Anthony. You’re a great actor so you good with keeping your composure.  

“Hey its nice to meet you” Anthony says smiling 

“Yes we are so excited to pick your brain today” says Ian 

“Well let get this show on the road then I’m excited to pick your brains as well” you say confidently to your inspirations.  

Spencer: 

As he was eating lunch with Courtney, Shayne, Angela and Chanse; he was distracted from the conversation as he saw a beautiful women walk by with Selina. 

“Guys I swear I just saw an angel…” he says getting everyones attention.

“Did you drink too much Kickstart today Spence” says Court laughing.

“Yeah what are you going on about” Chanse says with a questioning look.

“Did you guys hear about anything with hiring a new cast member or do we have some type of brand we are going to work with be cause I just saw Selina walking the most beautiful women to the conference room!” Spencer says to them. 

“No” everyone says in union.

Then I see then And give the most sly look ever 

“ You know the conference room is all glass we could talk a look” she says wiggling her eyebrows. 

“No I’m not getting fired from the dads” says Shayne.

“Im in!” Chanse yells

“Angela I can’t either let me know wtf is going on tho” Spencer says 

He watched Angela make an amused face to Chanse and they get up pretending to be some type of ninjas or spy tiptoeing around us and sining action movie music

“ They are idiots” Spencer says paling his face

They come running back 

“He's not lying she gorgeous; id go straight for her” says Chanse 

“yeah id go gay for her” Angela says 

“Oh my god guy what!” Courtney exclaims.

“What does it look like is going on” Spencer says.

“I don’t know  but they were going over some type of paperwork” Angela says while sitting back down.

“Looks like well have to ask Selina afterwards… we gotta get going its almost call time” Says Shayne. 

Back to Y/N 

So everything looks great Y/N” says Anthony! 

“Thank you” you say as you start to blush.

“So I think we would benefit from you a lot” says Ian 

“Oh wow guys um thank you… I will like to be honest with you now hahaha….. you guys have inspired me so much thought my life and this is crazy that this is even happening and I’m very thankful I really didn’t think anything would come from me applying” you explain. 

“Well I’m glad to know that but its happening and we would love to hire you! So do you have any pitches for us?” Anthony says 

“Actually yes its for TNTL I think you guys should do a nostalgia episode where its nostalgia jokes and skits coming back whether its the same stuff or stuff rebranded I think the fans would love it!” You say geeking out a little.

Ian and Anthony look at each other and smile… “ you know what I really love that idea, Selina can yo see when we can do that and make a call sheet for it” 

“Yes defiantly…. So Y/N think you can start next Wednesday? I can send you everything tonight you’ll have the rest of the week to look over and prepare and we can start with maybe just one call time that day if that sounds good to you?” Selina says smiling

“YES” you exclaim!

“Perfect ill show you out! Unfortunately we can’t introduce you to any of the other cast members because they are filming right now but you can meet some of the crew! I’ll show you around so you’re not too confused next week!” Selina says.

“ Thank you!” You say as standing up. “And thank you so much guys it was pleasure meeting you and I’m excited to start” you say as shaking Ian and Anthony’s hands.

You walk out with Selina and get your tour then head home to start preparing for the best thing that has ever happened to you.

Okay that is all for now let me know if I should continue!

[allamericansbitch]

so i think i finally figured out what exactly put me off taylor, and it wasn't the politics (or lack of it) or generally how she's been since midnights released. i think it's the basic fact that she's stopped being/feeling like she is a musician. like i know she's doing the tour, obviously, but nothing about her including the tour has felt like it's about her work.

for instance i see artists of her generation and even newer ones do your staple few things after they've released new music: you do SNL maybe, maybe a tiny desk concert, maybe BBC live radio, maybe some smaller/closed door live gigs and live performance videos on your YouTube, maybe you speak with Genius or Apple Music like Hozier did about your process. just tiny things that speak about your music and what is after all your day job.

instead what i recall and what i've seen taylor do since midnights came out (or arguably since the red re-recording came out) is simply her go to jimmy fallon or whatever and basically rehash the same lines about the album, or release a hundred combinations and versions of the same thing for people to buy. and this isn't even half the reason why we see her face plastered everywhere: a bulk of it is pap walks, tabloid-y speculation which generally makes me go what even are you now

and i just feel like this is such a wasted opportunity to do more with her music. the last bit of creativity in this sense that i can think of is the folklore long pond studio sessions: they gave her a chance to talk about making the album, and they also added a different texture to the songs themselves.

wow this is actually such a good observation. she really doesnt promote her music anymore, but she does promote her personal life. (and i know shes on tour, but she has the week off in between, she can do an interview over the phone during lunch one of those days off you know) the TIME interview was the perfect example, i would have loved to know what the re-recording process was like from the beginning, if it changes with each album, what she approaches first, how tour affects the re-recordings, etc... but instead we got a good chunk of her and her current partner. i would have loved to see it focus in on her as an artists rather than her personal life.

and if we take the only artist i can think of that doesnt really do promo but is currently releasing music, that's beyonce (not comparing them as artist dont worry), but beyonce is so different from taylor. they both are selling entirely different things. taylor sells relatability, writes about human emotion for the everyday person. she built a good percentage of her career off of relating to people and building a community of people feeling like they personally can relate to her and she can relate to them. beyonce doesnt offer any of that, she sells the fantasy, an escape. her releasing an album and never really promoting it makes sense, her art doesnt thrive off of relatability and feeling like the everyday person. taylors does.

nothing about taylor is about the music anymore. and when it is, it's 'fans' asking for more of it, then getting it, then wanting more. and when we get it- the longest, most intense discussions are about the person they're supposedly about and people creating an entire story surrounding it... not once admiring the song itself and her work. and thats probably why it feels so exhausting, every conversation is stale and tasteless if you're someone who doesnt care about her personal life. it's just the same gossip over and over again and a lot of its been being discussed for over a decade.

[prince-liest]

You inspired me to write! And I got up to 2k words for the first time ever when it comes to writing for myself... but I'm struggling a bit 😅 Do you have any advice about narrator POV and how you use your verb tenses? It's like I have no idea how you manage to "head-hop" while still being an omniscient narrator so smoothly & effortlessly. And verb tenses. if I write "was" one more time I might pop a gasket lol. any help is appreciated <3 have a good one!

First of all, that's freaking amazing! 2k is a lot, congratulations! That might sound weird coming from me considering how many words I put out, but I 100% remember the struggle of being newer to writing and hitting multiple thousands of words for the first time - I'm so happy for you!

Second of all: I actually write exclusively in third person limited POV, not third person omniscient! Even though I'm writing in third person, the narration is fully from the perspective of the point of view character, which I personally enjoy a lot because it allows for a lot of unreliable narration and also characterization through how their train of thought manifests (choppy, stressed, dreamy, etc). That's why when I'm writing from the point of view of character A, for example, any assumptions about character B's motivations are what character A is thinking, not an omniscient narrator informing you.

That said, you still have to head-hop specifically to write the actual visible actions and dialogue of the second character, and that's actually the most recent thing that I used to struggle with in writing specifically because I got most of my initial writing experience doing roleplay where I was only ever responsible for one character's thoughts and actions at a time.

Honestly, the main thing I can say is that it gets much, much easier with practice. When you start out, it will genuinely just take you longer to switch from the mindset of one character to another! I used to take character notes to put together little snapshot profiles of character headspaces to re-orient myself between the characters I was writing when I felt like I was getting lost. They included things like a few traits to keep in mind, behavior mindset, and snippets of dialogue that I thought were very representative. I don't use these anymore, but I do still do things like rewatch episodes or reread portions of books when I'm learning new characters to orient myself to their personality. It's like code-switching to me nowadays.

As for verb tense: I was a consummate Homestuck, so I started out writing in second person present tense, hahaha, and while I've adopted the third person POV (and believe me, this took adjusting), I've kept writing in present tense as a personal preference. I like it because it makes things feel more in-the-moment as they're happening, because there's less grammatical fuckery involved when describing the past vs the present, and just because I'm used to it. That said, past tense is more common and stands out less to people, and I think that you are finding all of your "was"s a lot more noticable than a reader would! People generally don't really notice the tense of what they're reading once they get into the flow of it.

[frownyalfred]

Hi Res how have you been doing ?✨️

Question about your a/b/o-verse!

I see the term "carrier" and "parent" be used a lot rather to more usual gendered terms like mother and father (I don't remember if Bruce or Alfred commonly refer to his parents as his mother and father).

Do pup still refer to the parent that carried them during pregnancy as mother/mom and to the other one as father/dad, despite their primary gender? I often see that in a/b/o, like the pregnant parent is referring to themselves as mom no matter if they are a man/woman/other and was wondering about that!

TBH I'm quite curious because I've never read man/woman a/b/o stuffs and I wonder if there was a female alpha with a male omega (him carrying the pups), would he be referred as mom, directly challenging the norms of our society... Anyway! Food for thoughts <3

Have a nice day,

-Jay

(ps: love the tiktok superbat account too haha)

Hi friend! I'm doing okay. Just trying to get through the week, you know?

My goal in writing this fic specifically was to avoid ever having to call Bruce "mom" just because he's an omega with pups. I really like the gender neutral "carrier" and even "sire" (though I wish there was a better word) since it allows for multiple genders and designations to mix and choose the term that best fits for them.

Since Martha and Thomas were both cisgender, I imagine Bruce might have called them mother and father if he wanted. But he would most definitely call them carrier/sire as a default.

One thing I have done differently which I'm still unsure about is having "carrier" not just as a biological term, but as a gender neutral parenting term in general. I.e., Bruce might not have carried Jason to term, but he is Jason's carrier? Jason doesn't call him mom or dad. But he (and if not him, then other people) refer to Bruce as Jason's carrier frequently.

I suppose it all comes down to personal preference. Since Bruce spent so long repressing his dynamic, I don't think he really relishes being called mom. But Lex clearly disagrees and occasionally uses gendered language, usually just to irk Bruce. He also calls himself "Uncle Lex" despite being omega.

It's all a very interesting hodgepodge of our gender norms, in-universe a/b/o tropes, and the a/b/o tropes I've chosen to subvert with my own interpretations.

And, of course, it all depends on how the in-universe trends are going, as we've discussed on here. Are newer generations more or less comfortable with older pack dynamics/instincts? Are they trying to move to a more nuclear family ("mom" and "dad") and away from same-designation couples? Same gender couples?

I'm curious what everyone else thinks.

[dribs-and-drabbles]

This is a little something (she says and then writes nearly a thousand words) about Kawi and intimacy and his behaviour towards Pisaeng's affections in Be My Favourite ep 9. I've been thinking about it all week but wasn't sure if I wanted to use my precious free-time to make a post. However, on the cusp of the new ep, I realise I do want to get these thoughts out.

I realised from reading other people's perspectives of the ep that my initial assessment of how Kawi was behaving was perhaps clouded by the 'old lenses' that I was subconsciously watching the show through. For context, I wasn't sure that I liked that Kawi kept pushing Pisaeng away and I even mentioned the dreaded Blushing Maiden trope. After some thought, I realise that my initial judgement was very much influenced by a couple of things carried over from ye olden bl times (which may not have been done away with completely but seem to be on their way out in present times).

First, from having seen so many bl/qls with the blushing maiden trope, subconsciously I guess I still expect to see it because it had been so prevalent. And second, despite the re-wiring my brain has undergone when it comes to Krist, I think I still fell back on the earlier presumptions that Krist was either averse to skinship (particularly with men) and/or wasn't a good enough actor to convey physical intimacy (this, of course, mostly stems from his portrayal of Arthit in SOTUS, which for all we know was how he was specifically directed to act - and which many have interpreted as demi- or asexual, which absolutely has a place at the table).

My conclusions to these realisations is that I need to learn to trust these newer bl/qls that they really aren't going to rehash the old questionable tropes of yesteryear.

I remember some discourse before the last three eps of My School President - when we were worried about the ending - about how Bad Buddy taught us that we can feel safe watching it - "safe in the knowledge that tropes were being subverted, that the usual angsty triggers actually got resolved pretty quickly, that the ep 11 curse wasn't actually a curse at all". And we needed to take that knowledge to help assuage our fears about the ending of MSP. And I think I'm in a similar situation here with Be My Favourite and Kawi in particular.

Staying with Bad Buddy for a bit longer (because, really, when can I ever not talk about it in relation to something else?), I remember feeling a similar disappointment with how Pran was being portrayed in ep 9. I felt he too bordered on the blushing maiden with how he shied away from Pat's advances in his room before Korn came in, before the rugby game, and even when washing up after the hotpot date. I don't see that now because, of course, we know Pran isn't a blushing maiden at all - I mean he's not known as Feral Musky Scented HOE Pran for nothing.

Yes, it took time for Pran to get used to Pat's affections but that was probably because he had pined over this man for so long it was all a bit overwhelming at first. Pran probably needed to ease into letting down his walls, to be vulnerable around Pat, and to believe it was all real. And in the end, when he had gotten used to it all, Pran holds back because he likes to make Pat work for it...because Pat also likes to work for it, because they get off on role-playing - as I've said before, it's like foreplay to them.

I'm not saying this is the same for Kawi but it's a similar situation. I knew this about Pran, and that I was wrong in my interpretation of him, and yet I didn't think to approach Kawi and Pisaeng with the same lens. The lens that so many of you have helpfully pointed out - Kawi is a 30-year-old virgin. This is all so new to him, not only to be intimate with someone but also with a man whom he hadn't even contemplated being with. He's spent 12 years only thinking of Pear (emphasis on 'only thinking' as well as 'only thinking').

@burntsuncomet said it well in their tags: "touch gets very very difficult if you don't interact with people much, so intimacy of normal affectionate touches are tough. Kawi would have to start slow and let Piseang just smack a kiss, maybe hold hands, hug a bit, it's a lot of work before intimacy from touch will be like second nature in Kawi's case." @rocketturtle4 also added that Kawi's "general uncertainty could be very well tied in with his loneliness and, especially, his fear of losing Piseang if he does the wrong thing".

@waitmyturtles offered a slightly different perspective, that almost "everything in this show is totally intentional, and...that [Kawi's] discomfort is totally meant to reflect those accusations from Krist’s past about his clear discomfort in acting out intimacy (especially juxtaposed with how much better he’s done with the intimacy in this show)".

So, all of this is to say that I need to start trusting this new wave of bl/qls - a message I obviously forgot from My School President and which has been proven by several other series this year.

And I need to trust Be My Favourite especially, because, as @williamrikers said, "they've swerved and avoided every other trope so far I believe that they're working towards something here". And I agree. Every episode has been fantastic and I haven't disliked a single thing about the show so far.

On top of that, I need to trust my newfound belief in Krist's acting, because he has pulled out some absolutely brilliant performances in this show so far - so why should I think ep 9 is any different?

[thatfrailsoul]

– That frail soul

just some thoughts

( picture → pinterest )

When I was little, my grandmother always checked my homework before allowing me to put away the books. And if there was a mistake... Oh boy. She would pass the next hour erasing the superficial layer of the paper with a razor, in the spot where the mistake was, colouring slightly the now more white spot, so it is not so noticeable, and then writing the words correctly on her own, imitating my hand and ways

I've never really understood why she did it, but I knew that it was important to her, so I never said anything. She was doing it on her own after all, it didn't require any additional "work" from me, so why should've I cared when I was only able to think about my favorite cartoon that would've started soon...

But my professor... She always knew what my grandmother was doing. And every single time she looked at my homework, she whispered in fear that I will never know how to make my own mistakes and learn from them.

As I grew up I never thought about it again. I still managed to make my own mistakes. And I always, fortunately, learned from them. But I always did so silently, on my own, hidden away, without even realising what I was getting used to do.

In the safety of my room, in my sleepless nights passed on studying and trying again and again whatever I wasn't able to do. Or at the back of my mind, where no one could see me remembering, analysing, my every action or word that came out of my mouth... I was slowly but surely learning to hide my progress, my mistakes, my wanders or misunderstandings, never allowing others too see them, and erasing everything that wasn't aligned with the current image that I chose for myself. Imitating so damn well the hysterical need of my grandmother to correct my homework, hiding those little but still imperfections. Just to make me seem perfect in the eyes of someone else.

I grew up and started tearing out the pages when I didn't write aesthetically enough or made too many mistakes as I was drawing, supposedly having fun. I started to feel the need of a whole new journal or notebook if I had a new interest, even if I never finished the previous one. I deleted all my photos from the socials just because I found a different style...

Discovering, trying and experimenting was never a problem for me. But it was, in my subconscious, simply a disaster to have something out there that remained of that older style, idea, passion or version of me. That others could see that change, that lack of coherence and perfect balance in who I am.

But is it really so bad? If someone understands that I've changed? Is it so horrible if someone sees the process, the how, the steps that I made as I was growing and finding my true self or how to express myself? Are my older desires, passions and ways that much worse than the newer ones? Or are they still and always a part of me and my story, and should be at least respected and remembered rather than completely erased? Are they, perhaps, the ones that really make it so worth it, to be here and to be who I am?

I feel so different, so new in the way I'm starting to perceive my own self and this world as I'm changing once again... As I feel this inevitable itch of starting completely from scratch and hide away that older part of me in favour of a new one... But I will gently force myself to slow down and let go a little this time. I will allow my new self to bloom right here, next to the other versions of me, not in their place, not instead of them. Because they might not be so perfect, or fitting now for the person that I feel to be... But they still are me. A me who did her best. And deserves to be remembered and celebrated for all that she was able to learn or discover about herself and the way she wants to carry and present herself, instead of being shamed for the way she did it.

I will allow this change, even if it won't be a completely perfect new beginning, but just a continuation of my growth, redemption to my mistakes... Because even done this way, it is still more than fine and I can equally feel confident and proud.

All of this just to share this sudden realisation. And the little but important bit of courage that I found in not deleting anything, but to just embrace my new self.

And as I will learn to not hide those hard-earned steps that I made to arrive here, I hope that you will find and give some love to the older versions of you too. That you will spend a moment to appreciate them, the ones that helped you to become the beautiful person that you are now. The mistakes, the delusions, the failures, the bad things and the ones that still follow you around. No matter at which age, how, or in which area of your life... I hope that you will choose to leave them here. Not as a reminder of how much you suffered or perhaps hurt others, how "worse" you were... But as the one of how far you've come in understanding it and changing. Learning so much more about this life and your own self.

_

[shunnao-addict]

Brandon Sanderson and his "genre-shaping" exaggeration

Let me start by a disclaimer: I actually enjoy Brandon's books, most of them get five stars from me. So please take it under consideration while reading. It's a criticism, not hating.

This post was something I've been thinking on writing for a long, looong time. Ever since Brandon took over The Wheel of Time (which is how I know of him) I got into reading his books, and enjoyed them. Then, over the years, I've read many articles praising him more and more, each book indicing newer superlatives, so when this year I've started re-reading his books (so I can read whole Cosmere in one go, awaiting final installment) I found myself disagreeing with most of them.

To sum it up, mostly he's being called genre-shaping because of:

Unusual, never seen before magic systems, that no other writer tops

Amazing wordlbuilding that also doesn't have anyone else standing up to him (some even call him "new Tolkien")

Characters that are complex, easy to remember, even easier to love and follow

Outstanding writing style

Ideas that no one thought before of, showing that fantasy still has something new to offer

I'll try to address every one of those, as to not get too tangled in my own thoughts.

Let's start with magic system. Now, Brandon's magic systems are unusual, that's for sure. They're complex, they're reaching into quite new ways of using world around us, they always have a high price, and boyyy, the rules they have! They're not, though, above some of the other magic systems I've seen in the literature. The Wheel of Time has just as complex system, with many new ways of using The Power appearing with each new volume (even before Brandon took over). N.K. Jemisin created her own system, that (in my own opinion, of course) is truly something we've never seen before. Trudi Canavan, with her blood magic, was also onto something that was refreshing and new. And don't get me started on Naomi Novik or Susan Dennard. What I'm trying to say - Brandon's magic systems are good, but they're hardly antyhing above average. Are they compelling? Yes. But did they change anything in the fantasy genre? Not really.

Cosmere, in its own huuuuge scope, created a whole plethora of worlds, each unique in its own way. Worldhoppers and idea of visiting different worlds stirred readers along the world, stating they've never read anything like this. Except, they could've. Because that's what Le Guin's Hainish Cycle is about. Each world having its own multicultural countries? We've got that in The Wheel of Time, in Eriksson's Malazan Book of Fallen, and in many other fantasy books (even those written by YA authors). So far, Brandon hasn't created anything original enough to call him another Tolkien, no one also took an inspiration from any creature he crated, and, sorry to say, with so many books being loosely tied to Cosmere it's hard to treat them as a whole. While Easter Egg hunting may be interesting for some, that does feel a little pushed. Personally, I dislike the fact that books I've read years ago as a stand-alone novels, are currently "Cosmere novels" with new content. Looking at it without any personal bias I can see those few ties, but it looks more like a marketing strategy, than actual "original" idea.

Now we get to my main pet peeve when it comes to Brandon's supposed brilliancy - his characters. I'm a big fan of character-driven stories, hence The Wheel of Time is my all-time fav, but Brandon... well, he doesn't know very well what to do with his characters. Take, for example, Mistborn. While there are two or three main characters that undergo a change, everyone else is a cutboard, two-dimensional stand-in that doesn't get much depth. I was truly intersted in Elend's advisors, but through two books I couldn't say more about them than "well, this one is smart, and this one is a coward". Also under his pen WoT's characters lost their depth, some of them becoming a caricature of themselves. I tried not to judge him by this, because, honestly, it's extremely hard to take over a story started by someone else, but this trend continues. Take Elantris - there are three characters I can think of, that were nicely written. Everyone else was just in the background, moving almost as if on strings. This isn't a bad writing - most of them were entertaining, lovely characters we could feel for, but when it comes to character-building (especially for characters that are not main characters) Brandon's writing is very, very average. Joe Abercrombie or Brent Weeks are much, much better in this regard.

While we're on topic of writing, I'm a fan of Brandon's style. He can easily convey hard topics, can keep you on your toes, is very quotable, and, in all honesty, his books are somewhere in between high and B-tier fantasy writing that doesn't force you to give 100% attention to what you're reading, but also doesn't allow you to skim easily over the text. It's a great balance, but you can't call it a penman mastership never seen before. It's a trait he's sharing with authors like Joe Abercrombie, Brent Weeks, Mark Lawrence or N.K. Jemisin. But it's nowhere near levels of Tolkien, Le Guin, Sapkowski or Rothfuss. Their style, their use of language or creating new terms is on a different level.

New ideas is a touchy topic, because (don't feel attacked) most people don't read outside of their chosen fiction genre. They don't even go outside of sub-genre. Which is why ideas that were introduced somewhere else (like Le Guin's ethnologists going around planets to get a feeling of their magic, politic and geograpy; or many science-fiction books where main hero goes to other planets for specific thing, like Stainless Steel Rat by Harry Harrison) or plot-points (different takes on "how to prevent a war/obliteration", even on philosophical side), or even religion that is always a Big Thing in each of the books (also A Thing, e.g. Mark Lawrence's books or Malazan), or a character that seems to be the main character, but dies (GRRM)... Brandon just takes those ideas and shows us them in his own way, but the archetype? It's still there.

So while I would say that Brandon is an amazing writer, I wouldn't say he's a genre-shaping wonder. He plays around with the same toys as everyone else, and manages to sometimes get better, sometimes worse when compared to other authors. He definitely has bigger following, a true devoted fanbase, and lots of Tor's marketing went his way. He's also an extremely prolific author, who doesn't always produce high quality books (Skyward and The Reckoners being an example).

tl;dr he's an amazing writer, who has lots of good stuff going on, but originality isn't his strongest suit. And that's ok. Good book is always going to be a good book, even if it's about Tortured Boy Who Saves The World for the Nth time.

[skaruresonic]

So I seen some people justify Shadow retracing the same development he had in his game and Battle in Shadow Gens with the excuse "well it's just to reiterate to newer people who don't know him about his character and reintroduce the character to a new generation" what do you think of that?

Didn't know older Sonic games had expiration dates. By that logic, nobody has any real reason to play Sonic 1, Sonic 2, S3&K, CD, Adventure, Adventure 2, Heroes, '06, Unleashed, or Colors again when Gens is right there.

...So they're okay with new fans getting the Diet Coke version of Shadow's arc? I thought we were all about ~raising our standards~ in this Chili's.

They're acting like nothing of value happened in either Battle or ShTH, which is a riot considering Battle is the only game we have to prove that "Shadow is not a weapon of war." Likewise, ShTH stressed "Shadow is not defined by his blood and determines his own destiny."

I'm certain a game whose mechanics hinge on Shadow manipulating his genetics Parasite Eve-style will more than suffice to emphasize those two points. Cue Iizuka saying "Shadow doesn't need a weapon because he is the weapon."

SxS Gens can protest "b-but Shadow is more than his blood" all it wants, but it's like, if that really doesn't matter, why the fuck do you keep bringing it up, then?

"Don't think about the polar bear; the polar bear doesn't exist. Polar bear, polar bear, polar bear. Why are you thinking about the polar bear?"

"Shadow's genetics don't matter. We think it matters so little, in fact, that we made gameplay mechanics hinge on it.

"Shadow's past doesn't define him, but here, have an entire-ass game that acts like rehashing his past for the millionth time just moved one inch to the left is the only way he can have depth of character.

"Omg why are you all writing 'Shadow was tortured on the ARK' fics? Who could have possibly foreseen this shocking development?"

Sounds like an excuse not to play previous games to me. And at this point I don't really have patience for it considering you don't even need to play Battle. Everything you need to know about the game can be gleaned from watching it on YouTube or, failing that, reading the script. But I suppose if Sega doesn't re-release it, it might as well not exist. :v