#me: what if I get attached and give them a story anyway

[lydiaalin]

save me horror cowboy game ocs save me

[a-so-called-person]

Jayvik is my barbenheimer

[arolesbianism]

I've been doing a casual second lob corp playthrough for fun and one thing that I've really come to adore is how the different success rates can paint a pretty cool image of how work with it looks like at different levels of each work type and while I think it's kind of sad that base game you can't see the work percentages I also think it in a way adds a fun game of is this marginally harder at level five than four or is my guy just being bad at their job

[medicinemane]

It's amazing how quickly you can make someone turn on your company by making a stupid and insulting move

Force me to go through the front door and scan my card when I have backdoor business that never needed a card before (what? ...I was going to somehow... sneak in and... purchase things with a borrowed card? ...which I totally can't do from the front door after scanning it?)

Or like... twitterify your layout right after your users give you a bunch of money just cause they like you, and then refuse to walk it back

...or all the other things companies do that just kinda piss people off and then they refuse to acknowledge maybe it sucks and is stupid cause "hey, the customers didn't leave"... yeah... yet

[limethefirst]

Hello! I've read you're shadow fanfiction and it's just absolutely amazing!! Can I request a shadow x teen reader(platonic) where the reader stays with robotnik and stone but isn't related like they just decided to keep them because they were useful and when shadow comes around he grows an attachment to them and constantly wants to protect them

Please and thank you!!!!

Guardian Hedgehog

pairings: Shadow the Hedgehog x teen!reader (platonic)

warnings: slight sonic 3 spoilers

summary: Shadow finds himself getting attached again, but maybe this outcome will be different from the rest

a/n: thank you so much for being patient and enjoying my other stories! Here’s your request, I hope you enjoy it as much as the others!

When you first met Shadow, he quite literally jump scared you. You were walking down the dark corridor with Knuckles the Echidna, he was letting out a nervous mumble about supposedly not being scared but you could tell he was from his shaking. You didn’t blame him though, this place was creepy that’s for sure, you wanted to go with Robotnik or Stone but Sonic had very little faith in you three so instead you had to pair up with Knuckles.

As you walked with him, your arms crossed you let out an annoyed groan, sure this place was creepy and weird and actually somewhat scary…but nothing would get you, so why make a big fuss anyway.

“Boo”

And that is how you met Shadow. By getting unintentionally scared and jumping behind the smaller echidna.

From that point forward it seemed as if he wanted to just stick by your side, which you didn’t really mind. It was actually quite funny; when Robotnik would reprimanded you for messing up a task, Shadow would give him a mean glare, which happened a lot in the short amount of time he was with you.

Even Gerald noticed it, although he didn’t say anything about it. It was you and Shadow’s little thing, like he was your little guardian.

Currently you were in London, inside The Crab, watching the novela on the T.V.

“Gabriela should kill them both, she’s not a prize to be won,” Shadow grumbled, his focus on the show in front of him. You let out a small nod, not turning back to look at him, disgustingly engrossed in the show.

Stone only let out a chuckle, telling Shadow not to be so negative before he called out to you, “Hey, could you slice up these avocados for me while I use the mortar to grind them?”

You gave a quick glance back before standing, eyes lingering back to the show every once and while. Shadow watched the interaction subconsciously moving a bit closer to where you were.

As you stood next to Stone on the counter you weren’t paying as much attention to the knife in your hand as you should’ve as you suddenly cut the tip of your index finger.

“Ah shoot,” you hissed out, dropping both the knife and the avocado in your hand onto the counter. Within a second Shadow had immediately teleported to your side, his head raised to get a look at what happened to you.

Stone also turned, putting down his bowl and taking a look, “Just a small cut don’t be so over dramatic,” he sarcastically said.

“If it were the Dr you’d probably already call an ambulance…” you replied with a snarky tone, teasing him a bit. He gave you a short glance before grabbing a first aid kit and handing it to you.

Shadow watched you the entire time, his face as stoic as ever, but his moves precise. He would check the cut then your body language seeing if you were in anytime of pain. Honestly it was a bit of an over exaggeration on his part but he felt the need to protect you and in that moment he sensed it was like he failed you.

As you took the first aid kit you turned over to Shadow, before you even got the chance to open it he’d already taken it from you, “What are you doing?” You questioned him.

“Fixing your cut,” he plainly replied.

“Awe you’re like an angel sent from above!”

“Don’t call me that.”

You chuckled before sitting down on the ground so Shadow had an easier time helping you. Shadow didn’t want to admit it but he found your banter with him endearing and tolerable compared with most others.

As you sat there, you watched Shadow disinfect the cut, drying it once he was done.

“You’re good at that, have you done this before?” You asked him, watching as he grabbed one of the kiddy bandaids in the kit.

“I have experience,” was all he said, not feeling the need to go into detail, most of his focus currently on making sure your cut was secure.

Slowly he unwrapped your bandaid, Patrick the Starfish was the one you got, they were all little kid bandaids since you were in charge of making sure all the first aid kits were packed.

You watched as he put it around your finger, his eyes very focused on the task at hand. Quietly he gave a curt nod once he was done, signaling that you could get up now.

As you stood up you took a look at your bandaid, you gave a small smile, “Thanks Shadow,” you quietly said, patting the hedgehog on the head.

He didn’t tell you anything, his job was done, you were okay now and he could relax.

Shadow wouldn’t do what he had just done for you for most people, but even he knew it was a little different when it came to you. The longer he’d been around you, the harder it was to detach himself, in fact, he’d found himself growing more attached.

Maybe it was okay for him to finally get attached again, maybe things wouldn’t be so bad this time. Everything would be alright.

[vivwritesfics]

Cat Mom 🤝 Cat Dad

Max likes being anonymous on these bengal cat forums. He likes making friends and talking about his cats without his own name attached to it. The Italian princess likes the same thing (jeez I wonder what happens next)

I had to do a special one for the actual day of my birthday lol

Jim&Sass

Help! My cat got stuck in another room!

Jam&Toast

Dude get offline and go help them!

Jim&Sass

What do I do! The door is stuck!

Jam&Toast

Get a hammer!

Max did just that. He didn't knew the person giving him advice, but he knew her cats. Jam and Toast. Her post showing off her pretty cats, two bengals, were how he knew her. There was nothing else about her, just her cats.

It wasn't a lot that he knew about it, but it was enough. He didn't know that she was sitting eagerly by her laptop, waiting for his confirmation that his cat was all right.

Jimmy and Sassy's dad was an enigma. But Jimmy and Sassy looked sweet and the stories he told about them were adorable.

That was what she called him in her head, Jimmy and Sassy's dad. She was sure her name in his head was similar. Jam and Toast's mum.

Jam&Toast

Did you get them out?

There was a moment where he didn't respond, where he must have been getting the cat out of the other room. Her perfectly manicured nail was between her teeth, but she didn't bite down.

Her nail had been perfectly done for when the driver's arrived for Monza.

His icon popped up in the bottom of the screen, three little dots beside it. She leaned forward as his message appeared on her screen.

Jim&Sass

Sassy is safe

Not sure what I'm gonna do about the giant whole in my door

Jam&Toast

Oh, you've got to show me that door

A picture from him came through within seconds. There was his door, with a decent sized hole in the middle of it.

Jam&Toast

Holy shit, dude

Jim&Sass

Trust me, I know

He was easy to talk to. Grabbing her laptop, she sat herself on her bed, placed her laptop on her bed, and settled down for the night. Jam and Toast, her two Bengal cats, were curled around each other at her feet, fast asleep.

She turned her laptop around and awkwardly snapped a picture of her two sleeping cats. The picture wasn't the greatest, and it was kind of hard to see two cats laying there, but she sent it anyway.

He sent pack a picture of Sassy licking a yoghurt treat from his hand.

They could have spent the entire night talking, the conversation branching away from their cats, but Jimmy and Sassy's dad had to go. She didn't ask where he was going, wished him safe travels and shut her laptop for the night.

***

Jimmy and Sassy's dad hadn't been online since Wednesday. She hadn't expected him to message her while he was away, having fun. But she did miss him. She missed talking about Jam and Toast to somebody that wouldn't brush her off, missed hearing about his cats.

It was Sunday, and she was on the grid. It was a bit of fun, going down to the grid. Sometimes Martin Brundle attempted to speak to her on his Grid Walk.

She stood by the Ferrari, talking to her good friend, Charles Leclerc. When Martin Brundle tried to speak to her, her security guard sent him away.

"Did you hear about Max's cats?" Charles asked after she had told him all about the stuff Jam and Toast had been doing that week. At least he wasn't changing the subject completely.

She frowned at him. "Max Verstappen?" She asked and Charles nodded.

"One of his cats got stuck in a storage room, nearly broke his arm trying to get her out."

She glanced from side to side, trying to look for Max on the grid.

***

Max watched as the Italian Princess approached him with the trophy. It wasn't a win, but he was still grinning. Charles had won Monza in a Ferrari, and Max was proud.

The Princess smiled at him. Max didn't want to consider it flirty, but he didn't know how else to interpret it.

After the Italian national anthem, they left the podium. Max grinned down at his trophy before throwing his arm around Charles' shoulder.

He saw the Italian Princess striding towards them. Stepping back, Max watched as she threw her arms around Charles. They spoke in Italian as she looked at the trophy Charles held.

Max went to move around them, but the Princess fixed him with a look. "How are Jimmy and Sassy?" She asked, letting go of Charles.

His cheeks were pink as he answered her. "They're good," he answered. "With the cat sitter, probably being naughty."

It wasn't a terrible response, but he wasn't getting it. "Max," she said and took a step closer. He was trying so hard not to look weirded out, she could tell. Her hand was on her hip, head slightly tipped to the side. "When are you flying back home?"

He answered and she checked the dainty watch on their wrist. "Do you think you have time to come and meet my cats, Jam and Toast?"

The surprise on his face was evident. "No fucking way."

[vaguely-concerned]

thinking about not only the specific people lucanis pulls in to represent the 'locks' in his psyche, but the storytelling that happens in the structure/order of them. the underlying ideas are presented something like:

the lucanis who went into the ossuary never came back out again; he died down there (the boy caterina raised is gone forever) -> you're putting yourself in danger doing this (by being close to me), you should leave because I can't bear it if you get hurt because of me -> it doesn't matter even if we do try this, it won't work anyway (again because of me) ('you know what he's like, you can open the door but he won't walk through it' :'( oofie doofie) -> what if the real secret is that there was never anything but the monster in here from the beginning. you should leave, there was never anything here worth saving in the first place. (implicitly: what if I deserved what happened, all along.)

it runs pretty cleanly from outward-oriented attachment anxiety ('caterina won't even want me back like this, she won't recognize me (the same way I no longer recognize myself)) and gradually deeper inwards until we reach self-image and self worth. or you know, the harrowing basic lack of it lol.

"careful -- they'll know we're not right," spite says in one of their first scenes... but clearly, some very deep part of lucanis has feared or suspected for much longer than that that there's something inherently not right at the core of him, way before any demon entered the picture. and the voice he gives those lines to is the person who should know him better than anyone in the world, who he has loved more than anyone in the world -- and who deliberately chose to hurt him so horrifically anyway. 'It's better if I'm just a monster and deserved what happened than it is to allow for the idea that the brother I love doesn't really exist and maybe never did'. it's better if he's fundamentally flawed in some way that needed fixing to help him survive, and that's why caterina chose to hurt him again and again -- out of love. (this one I think he might have a very sad wakeup call on one day if he ever ends up with the responsibility and care of a child of his own in some way and realizes just how alien the idea of ever intentionally hurting them for any reason is to him. oh buddy. also interesting that he keeps caterina as the outermost lock -- there IS a distance he keeps there that he hasn't with illario. he doesn't resent her 'anymore' he says, but he also keeps her carefully further away from his deepest self.)

as far as I could tell the only note in the mind prison that's fully hidden and needs to be uncovered is the sad painful helpless stupid little truth that even after all this, even knowing what happened... he still loves his brother. is there anything illario could ever do that would make lucanis completely stop loving him, do you think? sometimes the trouble with unconditional love is that it is, well. unconditional, even when some terms and conditions probably would have been in order haha.

that's the pattern you see there again and again; he would rather destroy and abandon and imprison himself at every turn than let go of love, even when it's just scraps, even when there's only ever enough of it to hurt him. it's only when rook shows up and as it were takes his hand and walks along with him that he can entertain the idea of changing the story of what walking out the door might mean in the end.

[loudclan-clangen]

Loudclan - Moon 29: Part 2

Back in camp, the warm weather gives the healers a chance to relax, and puts Wildfirecry in a particularly good mood, reminding him of his former home in Forestclan, far to the south.

Wildfirecry takes Songpaw out to look for Fiercestripe's patrol. Along the way they discuss what's really been on Songpaw's mind.

The scent of blood sits heavy in the still air. With Songpaw sent back to camp for help, Wildfirecry steels his nerves and rushes ahead, prepared to join the battle against whomever had made the mistake of tresspassing onto Loudclan's territory. As he neared the Loudclan border, though, it became clear that the battle was long finished.

Fiercestripe, Chumtail, Dogwoodmoth, and Dashpaw were killed in the rogue attack, taking 4 of their attackers with them. Rosehiptree managed to survive by staying hidden in the bushes, but she is by no means unscathed. Loudclan is devastated by this event, and will need time to mourn, but on the other side of the valley, three trespassers thank the stars for whatever might have delayed their pursuers.

[...so ... how are we feeling about this one, folks? bad? yeah, I feel bad. full disclosure, if Eklutna dying was the moon that I decided I wanted to keep playing Loudclan, this was the moon that almost made me quit. I was and continue to be DEVASTATED by losing these guys, Fierce, Dogwood, and Chum were some of my all time favorites as I played and I fell in love all over again writing their stories here. (Sorry Dash, you just weren't around long enough for me to get attached.) In game technically Fiercestripe died of heatstroke, but since it was the same moon as the rogue attack this felt like a much more fitting way for her to go. Anyway, I think one more part should wrap up this moon, and my deepest apologies to you all.]

First Moon

Next Moon

[lucimaaie]

we ✧.* tlou

pairings - santa barbara!ellie x reader

summary - ellie promised herself she wouldn’t get attached to anyone after santa barbara, look how that turned out.

warning - angsty, not proofread cause i wrote this pretty quick, short (as always),

After Santa Barbara, Ellie had no plan for the future. She’d left Dina and JJ and let Abby go. She knew would still have nightmares and the pain wouldn’t leave her. What else was there to do?

Maybe that was the reason she fought you as you tried to take care of her. “Leave me alone!” She said as you’d tried to help her up from the water, raising her arm around your neck. Thinking about it now, the memory of her weak attempt to tussle you made her laugh.

You fought as hard as she did despite being starved and traumatized yourself. She didn’t know your story, just that you were the only one who didn’t want to kill her as soon as you came out of that crowded cell. You knew that she was immune and that was it. Nothing else was important in the moment. Nothing she wanted to tell you anyway.

You took care of her so much she started to feel guilty for not returning the favor. Cleaning her wounds, taking first watch, giving her whatever food you two had left. Ellie questioned whether it was pity or too good to be true, that you’d try something the moment she relaxed. But as she got stronger, nothing bad happened. You cared for her all the same.

So she cared for you. She watched your back and let you sleep a bit longer since she knew her mind wouldn’t let her sleep. She held you the way you held her when she awoke screaming. Gave you light kisses everywhere to distract you (and her) from a haunting past she knew nothing of. Conversations weren’t your speciality. You didn’t know a lot about each other, but you knew each other.

Eventually, you got lucky and found an abandoned cabin far away from Santa Barbara and quickly settled in. It wasn’t big and there was one bed, but it was shelter. Ellie didn’t want to call it home just yet.

“We should move south.” Ellie blurted, shaking the snow off her boots onto the porch. She could already hear your lecture about letting the cold in, but that wasn’t her focus. Did she just say we? “I mean, nevermind. Here’s fine.” It wasn’t. It was cold as hell and she was tired of the cold she’d been in her whole life.

“No, why south?” You said as you adjusted the small sticks that provided at least a little warmth in the small space. Ellie came to sit down next to you, leaving no space between you. She looked at you, admiring how the orange light shone on your face.

“It’s hotter.” She held your gaze as you listened intently. “Probably make hunting easier.” Ellie knocked her shoulder into yours without much force.

“You ever been south?”

She shrugged before shaking her head. “Nope.” She looked at the fire. That might be a downside of south. No more needing to snuggle up to you to not freeze to death. South you probably have to give each other some space to cool off. “Was just a thought.” She scratched her ear. “What’d you do while I was out?”

“Counted our supply. put on the fire. cleaned our clothes. a bunch of nothing.”

“What about eating?”

“uh-no. forgot that part.”

“Course you did.” She sighed, rising to her feet and look around for the bag you two stuff all cans in. All your belongings in the cabin were generally pre-packed in case you had to run, but still the fact that you’d been able to accumulate these things together made her feel something she couldn’t describe. Annoyance was part of it. that she got so attached to you after she promised herself she wouldn’t. that it just complicated things. But that already happened the moment you’d kissed and let things go further.

“here.” She used her knife to open the can of beans and sat back next to you, handing them over.

“you do know we sleep in the same bed, right?” You hesitantly took the can and swished them around with the spoon.

“trust me i know, but i don’t need you losing body fat and clinging to me like a koala.”

“you’ve never even seen a koala.” You said, taking a bite of the beans. not bad but not good and most importantly not expired. You set the can down in the middle of you, signaling that you wanted to share. She shook her head and sighed as you pushed the can closer to her, your eyes saying ‘please.’ She took a small bite just to appease you and shoved it over to you. “just shut up and eat.” she swiped her thumb over the edge of your lip. “and stop eating like that. we’ll get you more food tomorrow.”

Hours later, ellie shot up in the middle of the night, her heart feeling like it would burst out of her chest at any moment. She choked on her own breaths as she buried her head into her knees. “it’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real—“ She mumbled the same words you did when you saw her like this.

“ellie?” You sat up as well, watching her with concerned eyes. She started to sob as she heard your voice, whether out of fear or relief you didn’t know but you didn’t give it much thought as you ran your fingers through her hair, letting her cry in your lap.

Eventually her tears stopped, leaving her with a pounding head and the comforting silence you provided. Her head rose from your lap and she pulled you into her, not willing to let go. Her head rested on your shoulder as her hands roamed under your shirt. There were no words for a while.

When there were words, they came quietly. “el?” you whispered. She didn’t respond for a while, still stuck in her swarming thoughts. “yeah?”

“where are you from?” It felt like a random question to ask, but there was no way you were gonna ask what she dreamed about.

She blinked for a few seconds, surprised. It was a simple question, yeah, but it could lead to other questions. she was scared to answer and ask back. “boston, i guess.”

“oh.”

“why’d you ask?” She let her head fall back on the pillow and tugged on your shoulder, silently asking you to turn around. And you did, facing her.

“i guess i just realized i never knew that stuff about you.” You said, fidgeting with her hands as you awaited her response. It felt like some dangerous territory, you weren’t supposed to cross. That was weird, you already crossed other, farther lines. “should i have not asked?” You whispered, tentatively.

“no, you..” She cleared her throat. “you can ask.” She finally looked at you, eyes soft with fear, pain. “i just..i don’t wanna talk about it all.”And go back there, she wanted to say.

“you don’t have to.” You scooted closer to her, laying your head on her shoulder.

Elie wrapped her arms around your back, her legs around yours, and looked at you. She let out a deep sigh as her heart beat for a different reason this time. “we don’t have to talk about it all. not right now.” we, there was a we. she wasn’t making it up. “okay,” She kissed your forehead.

thank you for reading!

[ossiethegreat]

hue makes an appearance again.. if any of yall know me from tiktok and saw my first post about him ily

don’t mind me @toffeebrew @howlsofbloodhounds

Yapping below \/

So initially he didn’t have much of a story because I’m not very creative and I blank out whenever I try to make something original so yeah.

basically, if Color were ever to get error-d, I think he would be on a hike, probably in some random AU that had nice scenery or something. He’s wearing a rain jacket because it was raining at the place he was, and he he just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, and Error or some other entity was destroying it or something. As for how he got into the anti void,,, yall can use ur imagination 😭

(That’s the best explanation I can give, kill me)

I was more focused on the actual character than his backstory, so I’ll just explain my ideas of how he would act and such..

I called him Static Hue, or just Hue for short. (It’s a synonym of color I’m very creative guys)

I think whatever caused the error in his code amalgamated the human souls, and kind of made them fuse together, so Hue can never understand what they are saying because they speak over each other all the time. The different traits overlap and he feels mixed emotions all the time, along with intense mood swings and anxiety attacks. His flames also change color at a much faster rate, so people with epilepsy will stay FAR away from him 😭😭😭😭

Fun fact: he’s also blind. The only thing he can actually see is the color of his flames (which change all the time), and it tends to give him headaches and nausea. His grabblings are always out and just attached to his back so he can use them to move around.

As for the strings, they are very hot to the touch and leave burn marks on however he uses them on. They burn himself as well but he doesn’t pay any attention to it.

Hue’s memory is very jumbled, he didn’t necessarily forget about everything, but he doesn’t remember why exactly he does things. He knows he needs to help killer and protect him at all costs, but he isn’t sure why. He knows he hates Nightmare and REALLY wants that guy dead, but he doesn’t know where that hatred came from. And of course he naturally feels safer near the epic trio, and nervous staying in the same places for too long.

hue’s pretty obsessive over Killer for this reason. His need to help killer was multiplied by a gazillion, and he tends to just.. kidnap Killer and take him random places to keep him close. Sometimes he accidentally hurts him, but he doesn’t realize it, the only thing he can think about is keeping him safe and close to himself. On the contrary, he gets super aggressive and defensive at the mention of Nightmare, and if he were to see him face to face he would attack without hesitation. He knows his job is to keep Killer safe and away from Nightmare, and that’s really his only motive. He just doesn’t know where it came from.

Similarly to most errors, he has trouble speaking because of stuttering and glitches. He also can’t form very clear thoughts because the souls are constantly influencing his behavior. He has trouble explaining his thoughts and feelings, he tends to speak more in actions (as in he would crush you to death in a hug to show affection.)

anyway. If anyone wants to add onto this or share thoughts I’d appreciate it..

Here’s some older drawings of him LMAO

[hyunsvngs]

kinktober !

kink: breeding

pairing: lee minho x fem!reader

wc: 2k

breeding kink: the intense arousal at the thought of being impregnated or impregnating someone.

You'd always loved kissing. Sitting on someone's lap as they hold you close, your lips connected to theirs. Feeling the motions grow in intensity as you both got more and more turned on - it had always been your favourite thing to do.

But kissing Minho? It was a whole different story.

The way his scent overwhelmed you every time, the way his taste flooded your senses. He would hold you so tightly, as though he couldn't possibly get you close enough. His hands roaming your skin, traversing the planes of your back, your waist, your hips, your ass. It was everything you needed, and you could never get enough.

It was inevitable as soon as it started. Your hips started to pick up a pace against his clothed erection, a desperate, grinding movement that made Minho smile against your lips. He didn’t stop you, only aiding the movement with his hands on your ass while he dominated your mouth with his tongue.

You couldn't hold back your whimpers, and Minho's smirk only grew. He pulled away from the kiss and you didn't even give him a second. "Minho, please-" 

"We don't have any condoms, baby. We're out."

You almost felt the ground collapse beneath you. "No! Say you're joking right now!" 

He wouldn't fuck you without protection, you knew it. He was too cautious. But that didn't stop you from trying. 

"Let's fuck anyways. I need it, Minho, I need you.”

Minho mirrored your pout back to you as he stroked your cheek gently with the back of his knuckles. "But what if I fuck a baby into you?"

What happened next was completely involuntary. His filthy words, coupled with his gentle tone, and his big dark eyes looking into yours. You moaned aloud, your hips grinding down hard, rubbing your pussy across his bulge once more. 

Minho's pout gave way to a shit-eating grin. "Oh, fuck. You want me to fuck a baby into you. Don't you? You want me to breed you like a little slut?"

"You can't talk like this if you aren't gonna fuck me!" you whined. 

He raised an eyebrow at you. "Who said I'm not gonna fuck you?" 

You stared at him, mouth slightly open. "You are? Are you gonna cum in me too?"

Minho gave a half-shrug. "If you're good."

"I'll be good!" you insisted. "M-Min, I'll be so good for you."

He smiled at your desperation. "Go ahead, then. Show me what a good girl you can be."

You didn't waste a single second. You tugged his t-shirt down impatiently, revealing his collarbones to your eyes. You attached your lips to his smooth, milky skin, licking and sucking all along his collarbone, until you found that spot that always drew the most delicious breathy moans from him.

“Oh, baby.” There it was. You had him. “You want me to fuck you raw that bad?”

You felt him get harder beneath you, his hips rolling to meet your core as you ground down onto him. Whining into his skin, you drooled against him with every movement, hands moving to clutch onto his shoulders. 

“Please,” You gasped, nipping at his collarbone. Minho grunted, nodding, and then he was pushing his joggers down to let his erection spring out. It rested heavy and thick against his t-shirt, a drop of precum staining the fabric with how aroused he was. “Please, please, Minho, I can’t, it hurts, I need you so bad, it’s-”

“God, be quiet,” Minho huffed, yanking your bottoms and underwear down altogether. He threw them to the side, and you yelped when he pushed you down onto the bed, back hitting the mattress. You were so wet you could feel it, folds slick and clit swollen with need. He shifted on his knees, pushing your legs apart and settling between them. 

Minho leaned in and captured your lips in a rough kiss, his hands beginning to roam over your body. You laid there, pliant while he rucked your shirt up and cupped your tits in his hands before moving lower. His lips moved to your neck, and you could feel his hot breath on your skin. His fingers teased your entrance, and you moaned, thighs clenching at the bare minimum of a sensation. 

“Ah. I was gonna prep you, but I don’t think you need it, do you?” He smirked, leaning back on his haunches. He grabbed his cock in a tight ring around the base, running his cockhead through your folds. The movement made you keen, legs thrashing and hips bucking into the feeling. Minho’s eyes were half lidded when he felt just how wet you were, hand moving to pull his shirt up just enough to expose his tummy. You pouted.

“Off,” You pointed at his t-shirt, and he grinned, tilting his head in mock confusion. “Take it off, Minho.”

“Okay, okay. Demanding tonight, aren’t you?” He quipped, and then he was pulling the offending fabric off. His tummy was toned, broad biceps and shoulders fully revealed to you. Before you could even take the sight in and enjoy the view of your boyfriend fully naked, he was positioning himself at your core again, tip just barely breaching your hole. You were so wet he could’ve bottomed out with one, slick movement, but he kept himself at your entrance with a cocky grin. “Do you want it? Do you want it raw like this, do you want to feel every part of me? Tell me.”

“Yes, Minho,” You wailed, trying to buck your hips enough for him to slip inside. He raised an eyebrow, shaking his head, pushing your hips down with one, firm hand. You sobbed out, eyes finally tearing up at the prospect of having your boyfriend like this. Raw, unfiltered, nothing separating the pair of you. “Please, please. Please, sir. I need it, I need it, need you to fill me up and cum inside me, and breed me- oh god, sir, breed me, please, gimme your cum, please-”

Minho groaned at your words, desperate and babbling, and then he was pushing inside. His cock always stretched you out just right, thick enough for you to feel the breach and long enough that he felt like he was in your tummy. He bottomed out with one, easy thrust, his eyes dark and lips parted as he gauged your reaction. You nodded, desperate breaths tumbling out of your lips.

“Don’t need to wait, just- just gimme, please-”

“Dirty,” Minho mumbled, and then he was positioning his forearms either side of your head and thrusting into you at a blistering pace. The sudden movement made you keen, tears finally slipping out of your eyes and pussy clenching around his length. You grabbed his arms for purchase, feeling yourself moving up and down the bed with the forcefulness of his thrusts. “Fuckin’ dirty. My dirty jagi, dirty little kitty wanting me like this. You need me to fill you up, don’t you? Look at you crying. Fucking pathetic, yeah?”

“Need it,” You managed to speak, whining and whimpering with every thrust. It felt so much better like this. You felt like you could feel every ridge, every vein on his cock and the way his pubic hair was rutting into your clit. It was too much, too sensitive, too big, but you couldn’t get enough of it. 

"Please! Minho I need your cum, I need it, so bad, please!" You were delirious at this stage - his cum was all you could think of. Thick and white, flooding your insides.

"No, no, baby," he urged you gently, thrusting his dick deep inside of you once more. "Wait, okay? The longer we go, the more cum I'll have for you." 

"Want you to fill me up, though," you protested.  

"And I will. That's a promise. Be patient." 

Minho cupped your cheek with his hand, and you took his thumb into your mouth, sucking on it lightly. 

"There you go, baby, that's it," he praised you. “Just feel. Feel my cock inside you, can you feel how hard I am? Does it feel better raw?”

You whined around his thumb, nodding. Your words were slurred around the digit when you spoke. “F-feels so much better, Min.”

The muffled words you spoke made Minho groan incoherently, and then he was fucking into you like a rabbit. His hips slapped against your thighs, your pussy making wet slicking sounds that would’ve made you embarrassed - but the way Minho stared down at your hole taking his cock, raw and unfiltered, made you proud of how wet he’d made you.

“I’ll have to fuck you raw everyday then, baby,” Minho grunted, his cockhead kissing your cervix with every rough thrust. “I’ll have to do it every fucking night, make sure my - oh, baby, this pussy - I’ll have to make sure my cum takes, baby, make sure it makes you all swollen with me.”

"Breed me, Minho, that's all I'm good for," you whimpered. 

He gave you a cocky grin. "You know your place, baby, I'm so proud of you."

"Are you close?" you asked desperately. "Are you gonna give me your cum soon?"

"Oh, baby, I could cum any second. I'm just holding off cause I don't want this to end."

"No, please, Min-"

"Shh," he cut you off. "I'm enjoying my jagi’s sweet, tight pussy. Never get to feel it raw." He grunted as he delivered a particularly hard thrust. "So warm in here. So wet and tight. Mmm."

"You like my pussy raw?" you asked.

"I love it," he confirmed. "Now be a good little whore, and let me savour it."

You thought you might die if he didn't give you his cum soon. You'd always loved his cum, you'd be stupid not to. Hot, white, salty. You loved it when he came on your tongue, down your throat, on your cheeks, your tits, your ass, anywhere. But deep inside your pussy? Fuck, you needed it.

"Are you ready for it, baby?" Minho asked, his voice strained. "Are you ready for my cum? Can't hold back much longer." 

His hair was sticking to his forehead with sweat, and his eyes almost looked wild. It was animalistic - he needed to cum in you, just as badly as you needed it.

You nodded impatiently, tears streaming down your cheeks. "I'm ready - deep inside me, please."

"Of course I'll cum deep, baby. I want this to take, wanna cum right against your cervix."

"Fuck," you whined.

"Legs up," he instructed, guiding your legs onto his shoulders, as high as they could go.

You swore you'd never been fucked this deep before. His dick was filling you completely, reaching places it never had before. It hurt, when the tip of his cock prodded against the ring of your cervix, but it was a pain that you craved. 

"Oh, fuck - fuck, here it comes," Minho groaned. "Look at me, baby, look into my eyes." His voice was frantic, and you obeyed within less than a second. 

He thrusted hard, hammering into your cervix one last time. You felt the pain ripple through your abdomen, and it was the last push you needed. 

"I'm cumming!" you squealed, not breaking eye contact for even a second, not even when your eyes continued to leak tears, vision blurry. Minho's pupils were blown out, barely showing his dark brown irises.

"Take it, baby," he grunted. "Take my cum." 

"Thank you, Min, thank you for filling me up," you babbled. "Thank you so much."

He slowly pulled out, before flashing the dreamiest smile you'd ever seen. "No, thank you." He fell onto the bed beside you, before pulling you in close and wiping your tear-stained cheeks. "Was that good? It didn't hurt too much?"

You shook your head, nuzzling into him. "Hurt a little. Was good though." 

"Good," he said, kissing the top of your head.

The two of you lay in silence as you caught your breath together. All you could hear was the racing of his heartbeat. 

"Min?" you asked.

"Yeah, baby?" 

"You are gonna buy me some Plan B, right?""Obviously," he snorted. "Way to kill the mood, though. Dork."

[erwinsvow]

Heeeey, Shea. How are you?

I just wanted you to know I love your stories. Kook trio reader and shy reader are my favorite. 

I know that's not how it went, but I really think in another universe, Rafe would have trouble getting to date shy!reader because she just wouldn't realize he was flirting hard with her. Maybe a bit of self esteeming issues or because she's inexperiente. But, anyway, I see her being completely oblivious about all his efforts and being like "he's so nice, guys. No, he would never flirt with me. You guys are insane" and everyone else would be like "girl... what?".  

Thank you for your stories, they keep me smiling. <3

- T.

hi t!!! thank you so so much for your kind words, it means so much. i am so glad you love the different readers on this blog! i think your idea is so cute and funny, it suits them perfectly. here's a little bit based on what you sent and i hope you enjoy ♡

since the day you had met rafe—truly met him, not counting the multiple instances where you had passed him in tannyhill attached to sarah's hip when he hadn't even realized you'd been there—you had been a little confused about the newfound attention he was giving you.

you felt it was strange. sarah was always going on and on about how mean rafe was, how badly he treated others and how he never spared a minute to talk to anyone. but she must have been exaggerating. right?

the rafe that you were becoming more and more acquainted with was nothing of the sort. from the time he had driven you home a few weeks ago to now, he had been nothing but nice—offering you a ride everytime you were at tannyhill, asking if you wanted anything when he was on his way out. he even went out of his way to find you at the country club, stopping to say hi even if it was in the middle of one of his golf matches.

it was nice. it was really nice. everything sarah had told you about him seemed to be completely wrong, but then you realized it. rafe was probably trying to be a better brother, and starting with being nice to sarah's friends was likely a good jumping off place.

with this notion firmly stuck in your mind, you proceeded to go about your days, smiling sweetly at rafe when he was being so nice and reminding yourself to tell sarah—her brother was making a big effort, and it deserved to be recognized.

"did i see rafe walk away from the course to say hi to you?" sarah asks, and you look up at her, a little surprised. you hadn't brought it up yet, and in all honestly, didn't know when you would.

your other girl friends look a little closer at you—surprise evident on their faces too. you hate being the center of attention but somehow it feels even worse like this—they're all getting the wrong impression.

"yes.. he's being very nice. i think he's trying to make it up to you, y'know, for being mean like you say he is."

"by being nice to you?"

"by being nice to all of us," you add quickly, looking at the other girls, waiting for them to pitch in.

"he's never been nice to me."

"i don't think he's even ever said hi to me."

"so how exactly has he been nice to you?" sarah asks, and you feel your face burn. they still have the wrong impression and you have no idea how you'll correct them.

"well not much," you lie, clearing your throat. "he just gave me a ride home a few times. and he said hi a couple times here. and got me a soda from the gas station the other day."

"not much?" your friend questions.

"he never asks me what i want from the gas station-" you interrupt sarah, eager to make sure they stop speculating.

"he was just being nice. it was nothing, i-"

"what's next?" sarah asks, cocking her head at you. "don't tell me, he lets you pick the music in his car?" she laughs, and the others do too, but you stare back at her blankly.

"just once or twice," you mumble, suddenly finding your drink and the misty glass far too interesting.

"oh my god. he's totally flirting with you." you whip your head up so fast you think you got whiplash.

"you're insane. that is so not what this is. he was just being nice."

"if any other guy did this, you'd be picturing your future wedding-"

"it's not just any other guy, it's sarah's brother. do you see the kind of girls he goes out with? that's how i know he's being nice, i'm nothing like them-"

you feel incredibly flustered, face hot and playing with your hands like you do when you get nervous. your friends are laughing, and though you know it's not at you, you still hate the feeling, feeling like you might burst from the intensity of the emotions you're experiencing right now. first and foremost—the fact that maybe rafe wasn't just being nice to you.

"yeah?" you hear, though you don't look up. "then why's he walking over here right now?"

[shapelytimber]

Wanted to paint some of my favorite characters, nothing more nothing less

[COMMISSIONS]

Way too much yapping like an embarrassing amount, the individual portraits and the template I used below vvv

I shouldn't be allowed to talk about my favorite characters- especially to people who (presumably) don't know them xjfkdk apart from the very popular ones ofc

ILLYA KURYAKIN (The man from U.N.C.L.E)

gay ass little Russian spy I love him he is so *dramatic* and a huge nerd and a Beatles fan and into fashion design- perfect pocket size blorbo ;w; also seeing a Russian character being given a positive leading role in an American tvshow from the 60s ?? Yes he lives in New York and works for UNCLE America.... But he is still a communist ?? Incredible ! Also I really like the fact he isn't given the cliché personality traits often given to Russian characters i e anger issues drinks a lot violent ect (looking at you shitty(imo) modern remake... What did you do to my little guy ;;). In a close contest with Spock for the "gayest man from tvshow" of the 60s..... And in my heart he is winning djdkd for me the gay subtext of muncle hits so much more because it's not a scifi show- it's closer to home, Napoleon and Illya were *like that* in the present day of the 60s, they were both human, and no alien fuckery made them go to the village more than once or play house in the suburbs or get attached ass up to get pegged on a regular basis... Truly a show that feels written by an old queen and a guy with the biggest fem dom fetish jkvjjkb (don't get me wrong tho I adore star trek tos and spirk too <3)

KUROO HAZAMA and PINOKO (Black Jack)

sometimes I rewatch some of the oavs from the 90s when I'm sad :) I had a huge phase a couple years back when I read nearly all the manga (should really finish it... Or reread the whole thing frankly), watched *all* the shows (bar young black jack, hated that shit) and idk I just love this venal bitch so much- him and his daughter and his conflicted feelings for his tboy ex that he still loves kfkfkf btw I'm dying for a modern take on this like please please please I'd love to see Kei Kisaragi's story rewritten a bit (trans character in the 70s sure was progressive but oh boy-), because him and black jack's relationship makes me so *weak*.... And maybe see him a bit more than in one story- anyway ! When it comes to his daughter Pinoko, it's very hit or miss- when the writers lean on the cute father adoptive daughter relationship it's great, when they lean more on the whole "she has a crush on him" (very much like a child in most case, and he *never* reciprocate thank god) and bring up the fact she is technically 18 a lot (she was an evil tumor trapped in her sister before he created a body for her- black jack shit dw), and she gets jealous of other women.... Well it's terrible and I'm uncomfy :(

EVA KANT (Diabolik)

Look.... You just can't show me danger diabolik 1968 and not expect me to become insane djdkdkdk she is so cool ;; !!! Her and her devious eel of a man (here as a panther, because even tho I haven't read the comic yet, I'm taking an educated guess that all the panther imagery is here to represent him, the lethal twunk always in the all black gimp suit... And if it's not then fuck my entire life ig fjfkkd), the cuntiest het couple you've ever seen, such freaks I love them ! Partners in crime that will blow up the tax offices of the whole country if you try to put a bounty on them <3 they are in the guilty faves category only because I'm this invested in these characters after 1 (one) movie fkfkf watched the first two remakes and was hmmm let's say underwhelmed, could have been worse but going after the 60s one ie peak cinema was hard... I went in fully invested in these heterosexuals and they still fucked up their romance and relationship ;; (don't spoil me the third one btw haven't seen it yet ! I know it's the yaoi one- which doesn't give me much hope for Eva tbh...) I'll soon start reading the comics tho ! Managed to find all twelve volumes of "Il grande Diabolik" in french for pretty cheap so I'm excited for that :D (might scan them and upload them online because omg I tried finding scans in *any* language and only found a dubious website that sold digital copies for 7€ a volume ??? What is this)

UTA (The Void / Тургор / Turgor / Tension)

Apathy girlyyyyy she just like me for real for real nfkfk what absolutely charmed me about her is yes her design, but more importantly her chamber's design (if you've never played the void, a sister's chamber is a space that represent her. You get a sense of who she is by exploring her chamber before finding her and talking to her soul it's great). The lonely island out at sea, her laying down on a suspended steel boat in a grotto, looking passively at the moon by a crack on the ceiling.... And the moon is looking back. Incredible ! I love this game so much

KIM KITSURAGI (Disco Elysium)

Do I really have to explain this one ? When I played the game with quiji I remember I kept saying "when Kim talks, we *listen*" djkdk we did get a good grade in Kim Kitsuragi and got him to dance in the church <3 this fucking centrist cop wormed it's way into my heart and many others because of course he did. The only Kim K in my eyes. Also funny anecdote : before I played Disco Elysium, I had one concept art masterclass where a kinda famous concept artist came to give advice, make us really stressed then give us a shitty grade.... And when I tell you this man looked so much like Kim ??? Same haircut, glasses, face with a scar *exactly* where Kim's portrait has a stark shadow on his cheek and he was dressed in an orange top- truly uncanny. Anyway, Kim is so fucking cool how does he do it

DARK VADOR (La guerre des étoiles)

*sight* not surprising if you know me... and to be clear when I say Vader I don't mean Anakin Skywalker, post barbecue only zouz here. I refuse to yap about this man djdkdk I already do that way to much in ao3 comment sections

And here is the template I used ! Don't know who made it tho sorry...

PS : all these where made in 2-3 hours each :D wanted to challenge myself by painting quickly, and I mostly (looking at the Eva Kant one that gave me trouble) succeeded !

[w2beastars]

Waezi2′s thoughts on “Beast Complex” chapter 25

So, I know we were all disgusted by the freak South who dated a lizard who was the same species as him(ewww). So I am happy to tell you all that we are going back to some good ol' freaky furry romance.

Better yet, this chapter is about Haru and Legosi!

The main couple of Beastars now practically live together since their universities are pretty close to each other. Haru is doing her third year in college and Legosi, now with a clean criminal record, is doing his first year in college, studying entomology.

Good for you, Legosi :) It is never too late to get back to school!

So, the wolf and the rabbit has been together for three years now and (for the most part) live together. You know what that means...

Oh yeah! They sleep together!

... In separate beds! There is no sex whatsoever!

Haru asks the same question as the rest of us: HOW?!?!?

Well, the first night Haru spent at Legosi's place, the ussual happened:

Like most wolves, Legosi makes small bites when he gets overly exited. Haru didn't get hurt, she got a scratch behind her ear, it's not the end of the world.

But afterwards, their relationship has been... well, casual.

There is no sexy atmosphere between them since the biting incident. They still spend their free time together, but it is almost like they are a middle-aged married couple where they brush their teeth together and everyday stuff like that. It bothers Haru a great deal since she is a college girl and it makes her feel old, makes the two of them feel old. She would like to get wild while she is still young... But to be fair, don't you think you had plenty of fun already, Haru?

I'm not slut-shaming or anything, just saying.

Anyways, Haru contacts Juno. Yep, everyone's favorite queen wolf is back!

Two things I noticed is that Haru now calls her "chan", implying a bit more friendly relationship between the two of them. Second is that even though Juno is here to give Haru input and advise about wolves, we don't get to learn anything about what her life is like right now.

YOU ARE KILLING ME, PARU!!! YOU ARE TORTURING ME SPECIFICALLY BY NOT LETTING US LEARN WHAT HER LIFE POST-LOUIS IS LIKE!

As I was saying, Haru wants Juno to give her advice to kick Legosi's wolf instincts into high gear. Juno is unsure if that's such a great idea(no duh!) but share what would normally make a male wolf... excited.

There is just one problem... Legosi is... well, Legosi.

He is a terrible mix of extremely polite, concerned and dense.

Nothing Haru does triggers Legosi, he misreads the signals completely and Haru starts to wonder if they have simply lost their spark.

Then, one night as Haru goes to bed disappointed that she haven't unleashed the beast so to say, she sees that Legosi is awake.

It's full moon, and Legosi can't help it but to stay up and watch it. Even if it is bogus that the moon should somehow affect wolves, Legosi and his fellow canines are still emotionally attached to it. Haru says she can relate to this to some degree, probably because rabbits have a religious connection to the moon.

This is possibly the first thing their species have in common. So the two of them goes for a late night/early morning stroll, enjoying the beautiful moon.

The two of them just enjoy each other's company, it's nice and quiet. They are not tired from class or trying to study or doing everyday tasks, meaning they can actually connect on a emotional level.

And then we get the twist:

As stated earlier, Legosi accidentally scratched Haru's ear when he got "excited" and Haru assumed it killed the vibe between them. But this seems to imply that he was waiting for the wound to heal completely.

Or maybe it is because they are both relaxed that Legosi feels less anxious.

Either way, they don't spend this night in separate beds.

I'm gonna be honest, it was not the best Haru x Legosi story I read, I would have liked a bit more of the classic Paru insanity. But I very much enjoyed it, and this specific story shouldn't have that much crazy because it is about the lack of insanity in the wolf and rabbit's life. We get to see that Legosi can finally get a real career and even achieve his dream of working with insects and how much they have evolved as an actual couple, not just furry angst and tension between the rabbit and wolf. It also feels like Paru is ending Beast Complex for real this time to focus more on her other projects, and if that's the case then this was a nice way to end it.

I'm Waezi2, and thanks for wasting time with me.

[topazadine]

Things that immediately turn me off a fiction book

I'm pretty picky with what I read, because the time I spend reading is time that I could spend writing. I generally know if I will like a book within the first chapter, and I feel no shame in giving up if I'm not vibing with it.

And no, I don't believe in the "oooh read further it warms up" because does it? Does it really? Do I want to waste time finding out?

Frankly, at this point in life, I read more nonfiction than fiction because there's just so. many. bad. books. that are getting published. Worse than fanfictions.

Anyway, here are the things that make me give up. Maybe hearing this will help you as you write your own masterpiece.

Too Many Proper Nouns

Three characters maximum in the first chapter or two. Do not throw dozens of people at me. I will get confused and give up. Let me get to know the main character, by themself or with a few of their closest companions, before you make me remember everyone else. And go deep with those characters! I want someone to stick with!

You can reference other characters, to create a sense of a deeper world, but do not go all-in on them. Make it clear that they are just there to provide a bit of context, and we don't have to remember them yet. We should only be meeting three characters maximum.

Throwing Us Immediately Into a Dramatic Action Point

This is controversial I know, but I hate when something immediately starts with a battle. I don't care if any of these people live or die. I don't know them. I haven't grown attached to any of them.

Even just a page or two to get to know them first will help. You can have them gearing up for a battle, thinking about what's going to happen, maybe talking to their friends, maybe checking their armor, whatever feels natural for them. But do not just start with stabbing people! I don't care about them yet!

Too Many Details

Many this is just me, but I simply do not care about every piece of armor your character is wearing. I don't need to hear a play-by-play of every single color of every single thing because I don't care. Pick out a few specific things for me to focus on and that's it. Stop overloading me with colors and patterns and armor styles.

Yes, yes, you've done your research on historically accurate gear. That's great. It would be good for a movie. But if I have to look up different armor pieces every five seconds, I am glossing over it and moving on. I don't care. I'm here for the story. If I wanted an infodump about medieval armor, I would simply pick up a nonfiction book (and maybe I will).

White Space Syndrome

Tell me what the overall scene looks like instead of all these hyperspecific details of certain objects, like carts or emblems or whatever. I want to know where I am!!

Don't just say "a forest." Tell me what kind of forest. Tell me if it's a young forest or an old snarly forest or a swampy forest or a cold alpine forest.

Don't just say "a castle." Tell me if it's a bustling castle or a gloomy castle or a rundown castle.

Don't just say "on the sea." Cold sea? Tropical sea? Far far away from land or is land in sight? These are the things I want!

Too Much Backstory

For the love of god do not explain the entire history of this culture in the first chapter. The first chapter is for getting to know the characters we're going to be following. You can introduce those things slowly and carefully as the story unfolds.

I get that fiction writers are delighted by all the worldbuilding (or research, in historical fiction) they have done. But the reader does not care right away. They need to get invested before all those little specifics matter at all. My eyes glaze over and I give up because I don't want to have to remember all of that all at once. It's like you just threw a college textbook at my face.

Plus, if you're doing third-person limited, you have to remember that the character is not going to be thinking all of that! They won't say all of that either! Because they know all of that!

Even a general on the brink of a major battle is not going to go "yes, this all dates back to when we took Iuanfutila back in 181, when the brave Iuanfutilans protested the rule of our Yawwbaawnwhryr leaders ...." They are focused on the present moment, and they may discuss the backstory later. Tell us what we need to know now because that is what the character would be thinking too.

"Oh, but Topazadine, how will the readers understand the context if I don't tell them??"

There's a battle. Two groups are at war. Or something was stolen. Or two people are fighting. Whatever. We understand those things. We can get the basic gist of how things are going to play out by just showing us these things happening. Then, as we have gotten a feel for the characters, you can tell us more about the context.

If you walk into a store that's being held up by an armed robber, do you give a shit about his backstory, or do you only care once that person has been arrested and you have to testify? I think we know the answer. You're not going "ohhh why is he doing this??" at first. You're going "HOLY SHIT THERE'S A GUN WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN NOW???" and then you'll care about the other stuff later.

Too Much Play-by-Play

I also do not need a play by play of a fight scene. I need to know the general movements, and then the overall atmosphere. I want to feel what the character feels rather than feel like I'm watching a football game.

Your reader will fill in the gaps if you give them enough information, but when you overload them with every single action, they're now trying to keep track of what went where instead of how this moment is supposed to feel. And now the action and drama has gone out of the writing because it's become a manual of fighting techniques.

Pointless Dumb Conversations

"Oh, could you turn around for me? I want privacy."

"Sure, of course, I'm a respectable man." Manfred knew that a lady-in-waiting would be unsettled by the presence of a strange man, so he wanted to be respectful.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Oh my god no one cares!!! No one!! We don't need this exchange. Cut it. This is stupid. Unless something is actually happening or something is meaningful about them saying this, shut up.

How to Not Write a Horrible First Chapter That Makes People Ragequit

Can you tell I'm mad today? I started and stopped three different books because they were all so bad.

Three characters max in the first chapter, with deep discussion of each. (One or two is better.) General appearance, demeanor, profession, whatever.

Restrain the urge to infodump! Dribble it out over the chapter!

Give the setting more attention than random little details that ultimately do not matter. I don't need to know the pattern of the curtains on the horsecart that's about to be burnt. Don't care.

Do not give a play by play of every single action that a character takes because it's boring and no one cares.

In media res is great but do NOT start with a big climactic intense battle or fight or whatever because we don't know these characters and don't know who to root for (or why we should care).

Your character is not going to give us a history lesson in why this conflict is happening. Do not do it yourself either. Give us just enough to get intrigued and no more. Think how your characters would think and what they would prioritize in discussions.

If a conversation is just pleasantries and has no purpose, drop it, we don't care.

[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.