the third one really bothers me but whatever

Little rant

The one thing I don’t get is why some people are so bothered about jacksepticeye voicing a character in Chapter 3 of BATIM. Calling it “YouTube Pandering” or whatever.

The thing is.. Jack loves voice acting. I’m not entirely sure if he wants to become a professional voice actor, since I don’t follow him that much, but I do know that he loves doing these little voice acting jobs.
And theMeatly was kind enough to offer him a little role in the latest chapter of his game. Actually give him a chance of getting a role somewhere, no matter how small it may be.

He doesn’t even play a major role (as far as we know but I doubt it), he just had a little role as a random toy manufacturer and that’s it.
How is that YouTube pandering?

I feel this is kind of unfair towards Jack because every role he will be in, be it minor or major, people will immediately accuse the thing he is in (game, movie, whatever) of being “YouTube pandering.”

BATIM is far from perfect and it’s fine to critique it. But if you do, then maybe you should try and find more valid points (I could think of a few.)

Not: “Ohhh, this YouTuber had some lines in this game for like 30 seconds, this game sucks!”


Hey! I was wondering if you can do a one shot where y/n is Daryl’s teenage sister and gets very overprotective when some teenage guys in Alexandria start trying to flirt with her? Maybe him and Carl - y/n’s best friend - team up to make all the guys get away from her or something? Thanks if you’re able to do this!

I hope you like it! 💕

-I think it’s awesome that you’ve survived so long out there, you know? —a boy, whose name escaped your memory told you. —This dork hasn’t even gone beyond the walls once.

-I have! —the guy who he was talking about complained in a shrill voice.

You were at the welcoming party that Deanna had been so excited about. You had hesitated about going, but Rick insisted. Now, three teenage guys were crowding you and trying to get you to talk to them.

-Whatever, I think it’s really cool how you killed those shits and all that. —the third boy said. You smiled softly, and it seemed somewhat fake.

-But, uh, I think we have to leave, right? —the first one scratched his head anxiously.

-Right, because my dad… you know, he wants me to… I have to help with… you know… that. —another one moved his hands nervously in the air. The last one didn’t bother in saying a word, he just walked away with his friends.

You frowned in confusion, but you were a little relieved that they left you alone at last. As you were turning around to go somewhere else, you bumped with your brother, who was standing right behind you.

-And I was wondering what made them run away like scared little kids. —you raised an eyebrow and crossed your arms over your chest.

-They best stay the fuck away, then. —he grunted, his words made you chuckle.


Daryl was your older brother. He was the overprotecting kind, which you always hated, but after flesh-eating corpses started to roam the Earth, you thanked God for him and for all those times we risked his own ass for yours.

-This party sucks. —you said as you sat on the porch steps right next to Carl.

-Oh, it’s a party? —he asked in a sarcastic tone. You laughed and shook your head.

-I highly doubt that.

-I didn’t know Daryl was coming. —Carl told you, expecting you would tell him why your brother had decided to show up.

-Yeah, me neither. —you frowned. —Guess he just wanted to check on me.

-Can you blame him? —he laughed. —We’ve been here for a day and you already have a tone of friends.

-Are you kidding me? —you joined him in his laugh. —They’re not my friends.

-Why not?

-I just… —you made a small pause, your eyes locked on your feet. —I don’t think I’m ready for that.

-For friends? —he joked.

-You know what I mean. —you bumped his shoulder with yours. —These people don’t live in the real world, and I don’t think I can go back to the old one.

Carl nodded and you knew he understood you perfectly, you could always count on him listening to you.

On the morning after the party, everyone in your group went to do their jobs. As you weren’t old enough, Carl and you didn’t get one, so you stayed home and took care of Judith.

-Can you pass me the formula? —Carl asked as he carried Judith in his arms. —It’s in the fridge.

-Sure. —you opened the fridge and took the little bottle where they kept Judith’s formula. You heated it up in the microwave and then gave it to Carl. He softly bounced his sister as she drank the milk. There was a knock on the door.

-I got it. —you said when you noticed Carl was hypnotized by his baby sister. You opened the door and found the three boys standing there with big smiles.

-Hey. —you said calmly, trying to fake a smile.

-Hey! —one of them greeted with excitement. —We were just about to go to Jake’s house and play some video games, would you like to come?

-Uhm… —you were thinking about it, or more like thinking about a good excuse. You didn’t have to think much, because Carl appeared from behind you.

-She doesn’t want to go. —he said sternly. Judith was no longer in his arms, you figured it was for intimidating purposes.

-Carl. —you reprimanded, knowing how rude he sounded. Nevertheless, he ignored you.

-We have stuff to do, so you should go now. —he told them as he stood steadily next to you. The boys shifted their eyes between Carl and you. You thought Carl was being way too rude, but you were somewhat grateful that he declined their invitation for you.

-Yeah, we just have a lot to do right now. —you scratched your head. —Maybe next time.

They left quickly and you closed the door.

-You’re welcome. —Carl said and went to pick up Judith from her chair.

-I didn’t say thank you. —you raised an eyebrow.

-You don’t have to, I know you don’t want to hang out with them. —he said as he gave his sister her bottle back.

-Because you just know everything about me. —you said in a sarcastic tone as you rolled your eyes, which only made him chuckle.

-As your best friend, I can say I do. —he laughed and kept bouncing Judith in his arms.

The guys stayed away from you for a couple of days, and you hated to admit that you actually missed the interaction with people of your own age a little.

One morning, you woke up to the sound of Judith’s cries. She was hungry and Rick and Carl weren’t home at the moment, so you had to take care of her.
You ran downstairs and went to the kitchen, there was no more formula in the fridge or the apple sauce that Judith loved so much, so you had to go to the pantry for more.

As you walked down the street, people shot you strange looks. You wondered why, but as soon as you looked down and realized you were still in your pj’s, you understood why. However, you didn’t care. After all that you had seen and lived beyond those walls, walking around the streets with your nightwear was nothing.

-Hey, Olivia. —you greeted as you walked inside the pantry. Olivia smiled at you.

-Hey there, (Y/N)! —she said in a joyful voice, she was always happy, for some reason. —Let me guess, apple sauce.

You nodded and Olivia disappeared between the counters, looking for the apple sauce. Another set of steps were heard inside the pantry and you turned around to see who it was.

-Hi. —one of the guys that had been talking to you greeted happily.

-Hey. —you reciprocated, giving him a soft smile.

Olivia came back with your baby food and handed it to you. She acknowledged the boy’s presence and smiled at him.

-Jake, what can I get you? —she asked gently.

-Some syrup, my mom’s making pancakes. —he said. Olivia’s smile grew wider, but who could blame her? His mom was making pancakes.

She disappeared again into the organized shelves. You already had the applesauce so you turned around and walked away.

You were almost arriving to your house when you heard someone running behind you. You turned around and found Jake right behind you, out of breath and holding a bottle of syrup in his hand.

-(Y/N)… —he said as he tried to recover his breath, and you chuckled.


-Uh, my mom made pancakes. —he told you awkwardly. —I was wondering if you… would like to, uh, have breakfast with me- with us?

You hesitated, your brother didn’t like those boys around you and he did pretty stupid things when he got all overprotective, but on the other hand, pancakes.

-Uh, sure. —you said at last and he released a deep breath.

You started walking towards his house, but as you were crossing the street you heard a familiar sound. The engine of a motorcycle roared loudly and it was your brother’s. He sped up and stopped right in front of your friend, who jumped back and almost had a heart attack.

-Daryl! —you yelled at him, angry and completely embarrassed at what he had done.

You picked up the syrup bottle he had dropped and gave it to him once he had calmed down

-I’m so sorry. —you told him wholeheartedly.

-Uh, yeah, i-it’s okay. —he lifted his hand to take the syrup and you noticed it was shaking.

-Where you goin’? —Daryl asked gruffly.

-To his house. —you told him.

-You ain’t got no business in this lil shit’s house. —he said violently.

-Daryl. —you said through gritted teeth, he was being way too rude. You turned to face Jake. —I’m sorry about him, he’s an asshole.

-No, it’s fine. —he shook his head. —I have to be home right now anyway, I’ll see you around.

Daryl made the engine roar again, which made your friend jump again.

-Or maybe not. —he said nervously and started walking away. —Bye.

-Bye. —you murmured as you watched him running towards his house, you turned to look at Daryl and shot him a deadly look.

-Get in. —he gestured at his bike and all you could do was scream at him.

-No! What the hell is wrong with you? Why do you always do this? First it was that guy before all this happened, then it was Carl, now it’s those guys! It’s like you don’t want me to have friends at all!

-You can be friends with Carl. —he said simply. You grunted in frustration and stomped all the way to your house.

You slammed the door behind you and screamed again. You realized you were still holding the applesauce jar inside your hand and suddenly remembered Judith had been hungry since the early morning.
You ran upstairs and entered her room quickly. You found Carl holding her and feeding her something that wasn’t applesauce.

You sighed in relief and leaned on the doorframe. Carl looked at you and laughed, there was still an annoyed expression in your face.

-Don’t be so angry at him, he just wants to protect you. —he told you.

-Yeah, I know, it’s just that… —you stopped abruptly as you realized something. —Wait, what are you talking about?

-About he almost ran over your boyfriend. —he chuckled and spoke his answer as if it were obvious.

-How do you know that?

-Everyone saw that.

-Yeah, but that was less than two minutes ago. And you were already here.


-How did you know?

-Okay, okay. —he sighed. —I told Daryl where you’d be today.

-Carl! —you scolded. —How did you even know that I would go to the pantry.

-We didn’t run out of baby food, I just hid it all in my room.

-You’re an asshole, just like Daryl.

-Sorry, but I think we agree that you shouldn’t be anywhere near those guys.

-Why do you think you can decide everything that happens in my life?

-(Y/N). —Carl called you, trying to make you calm down but you only stormed out of the room with furious steps.

You walked out of the house and saw Daryl standing there, his motorcycle parked at the driveway.

He tried to reach for you, but you shook his head off your arm and kept walking, unaware that you still held the jar of applesauce in your hand.

You arrived to the lake. There were a couple of people walking their dogs, but no one who knew you enough to talk to you. Good, because you wanted to be alone.

You took a deep breath and tried to let the green grass and fresh air put you at ease. Your face was still red from being so angry, but it started losing the radish shade as you calmed down.

Suddenly, you noticed the applesauce. It bad been inside the same hand all along, you had never shifted it to your other hand or placed it on the table when you got home.

You were hungry, you hadn’t had breakfast, and you figured that Judith wouldn’t mind if you ate one single jar of her food, there were still apple trees inside the community and people who made the applesauce, so it was okay if you ate it.

The lid made a pop sound as you opened the jar, and two of your finger sank into the soft food. You used your fingers as a spoon and put them inside your mouth, feeling the sweet flavour in your taste buds.

The taste of it brought you back to your childhood. Your father, a drunken mess who was never home, and your mother, deceased in a fire. Merle had also taken care of you when you were a kid, but most of the time he was getting high with his friends and neglecting his little siblings.
But Daryl had always been there.

When you were around 2 years old and none of your parents were home for days, somehow you remembered, that Daryl went to the store and bought applesauce for both of you, even if he was too old for it.

Nostalgic tears flooded your eyes as you realized you had been too hard on him. He just wanted to take care of you, as he had always done.

You ran back to the house and found his motorcycle still parked outside. As you were about to open the door, you noticed from the corner of your eye a silhouette at your right, sitting on the porch.
You realized it was Daryl. His arms were on his knees and his gaze lost on the floor. He blinked and turned to look at you as you sat down next to him.

-Sorry. —he muttered. His voice warmed your heart, he didn’t use to apologize often.

-It’s okay. —you told him. —I understand why you did it.

-Yeah, I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout it too. —he said and his eyes returned to the floor as his hands fiddled with something. —You can have friends and shit, it ain’t my business.

You smiled and leaned your head on his shoulder.

-Some things are your business, like keeping me safe when we’re out there and risking your life for me. —you chuckled.

He pushed you off of him playfully with his shoulder, but you leaned your head on it again.

-Damn right it’s my business. —he said and placed his head on yours.


I have been imprisoned in my house for four years. My mother comes by every two weeks with groceries, and usually brings me flowers every month. She still tells me I’m beautiful. Even after everything. Every August, she stays with me. Ever since the incident, she’s all I have.

Perhaps I should start from the beginning. You probably don’t care about the groceries, or the flowers. Like most teenagers, I thought I was in love. I thought we would be together forever. Perhaps we would have been, if it weren’t for me. I’m now twenty-six. My husband would have been twenty-eight, and we would have been celebrating our eighth anniversary. Instead, I’ve spent four years here, trapped with my grief. It’s my fault he’ll forever be twenty-four.

We were newlyweds. I had ignored the advice of my parents (they said something was off about him), and tied the knot. He was my world; I could ignore his quirks. Such as the sleep talking. He told me it was something he’d done ever since he was a child. It was usually nonsense, I soon learned. Just snippets of whatever it was he was dreaming. Sometimes I would talk to him when I couldn’t sleep. His responses made me laugh. I never commented on it, but I noticed that his sleep talking would become more frequent in August, going from a couple of times a week to every night. It didn’t really bother me; I soon got used to it, in the same way one gets used to the ticking of a clock on their bedside. It becomes part of the background noise.

It was the August of our third year of marriage when things took a turn for the worse. I had just celebrated my twenty-first birthday, and I was drunk from the party. My husband was too. I don’t remember getting to bed, but I remember being woken up by the sleep talking. It was different that night, louder, and in a voice that wasn’t his. It frightened me, and I woke him up. He got annoyed, told me I was drunk, and went back to sleep. He started talking in that strange voice again soon after. I couldn’t spend the night in the room. I stumbled to the spare room where I fell asleep on the uncomfortable bed. It was the first time since our marriage that we had slept apart.

I heard the voice again a few times again that August. Always, I would sleep in the spare room. My husband always got angry when I did that, and told me I was being stupid. That there was nothing to be afraid of. I wished I could believe him, but he hadn’t heard that voice. He didn’t know why I was so scared.

I only heard the voice a few times throughout that year. I could never sleep while he was speaking, but I managed to stay in the bed and pretend. Sometimes, he would thrash about while he was speaking, like he was trying to escape from something. I asked him to see a doctor, but he said it wasn’t worth the money.

In May the next year, his sleep talking stopped completely. This was scarier than the voice, because I now had no idea what was happening in his head. This was also the month he stopped talking while he was awake too. It wasn’t that he’d lost his voice; he sounded fine when I could get a syllable out of him, and his friends all said he was normal. By July, I was so sick of his silences, I threatened to file for divorce. He simply shrugged, and told me to go ahead. I decided to wait until August to make any decisions; I wanted to see if he would go back to normal if his sleep talking returned.

It was a mistake. From the first, he spoke in that strange voice. Although he started speaking to me again, his voice still carried the lilt of the one that came through at night. He became harsh, almost abusive. When I eventually filed, he refused to sign the papers. He claimed, in that same dark voice, that I was ‘his’, and that he wouldn’t let anyone else have me.

That night he attacked me. He was still asleep, but the voice was calling for my blood. He pinned me beneath him, and tried to claw my eyes out, tear my skin open. When he had torn my cheek open and drank the blood that flowed from it, he relented, and let me go. I dared to look at my husband’s sleeping form, but the man I saw sleeping there was not the man I had fallen in love with. His eyes were rolled so far back in his head that all you could see was the white. He was so thin; he had stopped eating during his silence, surviving only on his cigarettes and his coffee. As I stared, he grabbed for me again, shrieking in that horrible voice. I managed to get out of the bed, and to his side, grabbing the lighter. Without thinking, I set fire to the bed, and to my husband. It wasn’t long before everything caught, and the room turned into an inferno. There was no thought of escape in my mind; I wanted the creature to burn. Some part of me wanted to save him, but the rest of me knew he was beyond rescue. Whatever it was that haunted his dreams had overcome him. I don’t remember how long I sat in the blaze for, listening to his screams. I don’t remember how long I was in hospital before they told me there was nothing they could do for the burns. I don’t remember how long it was until insurance paid out. It was an accident, I claimed. He hadn’t put out a cigarette properly, and the bed had caught.

This was all four years ago. Since then, I have started sleep talking. Visions and horrors haunt my dreams, and, every August, my mother makes sure the demon doesn’t consume me. If I ever speak in a voice that’s not my own, I have asked her to set the house on fire. It’s remote enough that the bodies will never be found. Last night I dreamed I was a monster. My mother said that she is cooking tomorrow, but I can’t eat. I didn’t respond. I don’t feel like talking.