#the further i get from that company the more i realize something was very wrong there.

[thatonecrookedsmile]

I decided to finally color and post this thing I made a few months ago since we're getting close to BATDR's anniversary.

Consider this a fun concept based on a few things at the very least,or a Headcanon Based On Nothing At All at most. The "basis" for this comes from the fact that the Keepers' body and head are some kind of suit, with the zipper and "lens" being the most notable details of this. Which I found interesting.

Now,could the fact that they look like suits just be a side effect of them being offshots of the Machine? Yeah,yes it could. At the end of the day,the fact that they look like that can only be summed up as "they were created that way". Wilson just accidentally created cool-looking OCs. I doubt we'll get any kind of lore drop for the Keepers in the future beyond what we already know about them (but I could always be wrong).

The moment of inspiration that led me to do these sketches was when I was reading FTB and I was thinking about Gent and their experiments for a bit. The Keepers ended up getting into those thoughts at some point,which resulted in me doing… this!

So,yeah,what if the Keepers, before the Dark Revival,were old GENT containment suits?

Essentially,in my head,when JDS closed its doors,Gent continued the ink experiments in its own workshop,and the suits above were worn by the company's scientists while conducting some of these experiments. While we don't know what else the guys at Gent were doing beyond what we saw in BATDR and FTB,I don't think it's far-fetched to say that not even their scientists would want to touch the damned ink,which,as we know,is best kept away from. So,the suits are used.

In 1952,the workshop was condemned and closed. Eventually,the location and by extension - the technologies,the experiments and things like the suits - ended up in the Ink Realm. Fast forward to 72/73,the whole thing about Wilson finding out and taking control of the Cycle happens. When it came to creating his own "guards" to help with his plans in the Cycle,I guess he just. Took stuff from the Gent workshop like the suits and other stuff like gears and pipes,threw it all through the Ink Machine and uhhhhhhh,boom,the Keepers are created.

Again,I wouldn't take this as a serious theory/speculation,and as said,more as ideas and concepts based on so little that I decided to put on paper. (Might as well consider all of this potential AU stuff)

Additional stuff:

- I didn't make the outlines and the helmet's lens glow in the first 2 sketches because I realized that it wouldn't make much sense in the suits? The Keepers,sure,make sense,but for the suits themselves? Not so much. So I left them "switched off",with the exception of the third sketch,done at the time when I hadn't thought about this detail any further.

- The idea for the fourth sketch,the gas mask,came to me while looking at reference images of real-life hazmat suits. I thought it might be intriguing to have Gent scientists wear these masks under their suits,so I sketched it out to get a better idea. The mask itself was based on one of the scrapped Keeper designs, the ones that had the more "alien" feel to them. I don't know if it would fit inside the Keeper suit,but it's still something I wanted to consider.

I also like this whole concept of the suits for two other reasons. First, it gives the Keepers an origin that predates Wilson and the Dark Revival. Second, reusing old Gent suits to create his own guards isn't that far-fetched for a man whose entire rise to power within the studio and plan to overthrow the Ink Demon has depended on the work (and existence) of others to come to fruition. So that wouldn't be so absurd.

Also,here's 2 bonus sketches. The second one has nothing to do with what I've said so far, it's just something I was playing around with at the time.

[nariyahcore]

Sonic and Nine make a toxic duo/“sibling” relationship

And why Silver could easily fit into that dynamic instead

I have mentioned this before not too long ago, but never got the chance to elaborate on why I personally do not like Sonic and Nine as “brothers”. So!!! I’ll take advantage and explain why Silver and Nine are a much better duo :]]

BUT FIRST!!! I want to credit my pookie @abs9lution who came up with this duo in the first place! i have their thread that elaborates further on silver and nine’s dynamic at the end of this post if you’d like to check it out! it also includes a thread on what’ll happen to silver and blaze’s dynamic, and why Blaze’s character was downgraded throughout the years

the end of this post also includes a tldr for those who don’t have the patience to read all this yapping (it’s okay me too 😭)

Table of Contents:

i. sonic and nine’s toxic relationship

ii. explaining how silver’s addition would’ve mattered in sonic prime

iii. why silver and nine would make a better duo as brothers

I. Sonic and Nine, and why their dynamic does not work out.

I feel like I could go on for AGES as to why i genuinely dislike Sonic and Nine as a duo, because there’s just so many things wrong with these two 😭

If you’ve watched Sonic Prime then you’d know Sonic’s goal was to simply bring back Green Hills, with the help of the friends he made along the way.

This also includes Nine (momentarily) before his (EXTREMELY VALID AND JUSTIFIED) villain arc.

Throughout the show it is extremely obvious Sonic only saw Nine as Tails “but angsty”. He didn’t take time to realize that Nine was NOT Tails and never will be. Whilst his main concern was to bring back his friends, I feel like no one talks about how demeaning this was 😭

The poor kid has absolutely no idea what a friendship is like, so having Sonic rely on him for even a little bit was bound to become a heavily over attached and almost obsessive-one sided dynamic.

So no, it’s not meant to be “toxic brothers!!!” core, it is sooo downgrading to not only Nine’s trauma imho, but also the whole plot of S3 in Sonic Prime. They CANNOT be brothers 😭

This is often dismissed just for the fact of “lol sonic and tails brother ship in all universes”

Do not get my wrong, I adore the Unbreakable Bond stuff, I think they’re the brothers ever!! HOWEVER, this should not apply with Sonic and Nine for obvious reasons.

I can yap more about this but the main purpose of this post is about Silver and Nine, so I’ll keep this section short!!

II. Silver should’ve been in Sonic Prime and I will die on this hill 

LIKE??? ITS LITERALLY ABOUT THE MULTIVERSE WHY WOULDN’T HE (and Blaze) BE IN THIS SHOW???

Silver in general needs to be in more official media but that’s a rant for another post 😭

His addition to this show would’ve been sooo important, it actually would’ve changed a lot of the plot and even the ending of S3 (which was absolute shit imo 😭)

I don’t have a lot to say about this part of the post, apart from the fact his inclusion would have made the show more interesting, and his background is very similar to Nine!! (Which I’ll explain in the next section)

III. Why Silver and Nine would make a better bond than with Sonic.

they have similar backgrounds and interests! both come from a dystopian city with the want for change; one wants to leave and make a new world, while the other wants to help fix his.

They both balance each other nicely! And YES I KNOW THE SAME IS FOR SONIC. THE DIFFERENCE IS THAT THERES NO TRAUMA INVOLVED BETWEEN THE TWO 😭 and it’s not a complete copy of sonic and tails but with an angsty version of the fox

silver wouldn’t see nine as “tails but angsty” or just another version of tails, I think he’d see nine as his own person!! they could keep each other company and be the sillies ever

Something I like about this is the fact it’s not EXACTLY like sonic and tails, and they can still have that brother bond!! They have tons of potential, which is why I ignore canon and follow my delusions in fanon 😁

TLDR: sonic and nine booooo silver and nine yippee!!! /hj

okay in a serious note, sonic and nine just wouldn’t have a healthy friendship that wouldn’t have one-sided obsession and lots of toxicity, while silver, a character that albeit random, still has enough similarities to fit into that role!!

Please read the thread behind the mastermind of this headcanon!! They explain the details I’ve put in this post, but I’d like for you guys to read it too. It includes a separate thread by another person based on Blaze and Silver’s odd dynamic and why it’s often brushed off!!

sorry for any spelling errors I did NOT proofread this

art by BREADBURNE86414 on twt!!

[eclipsecrowned]

if it helps i'm not entirely convinced that their so called helpline wasn't a massive scam or attempt to phish either, and i know for sure it was an official channel for customer and it support pushed by corporate.

[zirconika]

PART ONE

⇚ NAVIGATION || MASTERLIST

This chapter is part of a two-part fic entitled 'Chivalry is Dead.' Click the link to view the series masterlist!

PAIRING: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader WORDS: 5.8k SUMMARY: You’re smitten with the archer you meet at the quarry who doesn’t believe in romance, vowing to make him yours, but it eventually becomes frustrating when he’s never clear with what he wants. WARNINGS: fluff. angst with comfort, then angst with no comfort. reader is very flirty with daryl.  SETTING: the quarry, the farm, and the prison

I. A CHANGE OF SCENERY - THE QUARRY

Prim and proper, clean-shaven, wears an authentic watch, bothers to use cufflinks, gets a neat haircut often, works in corporate…

You liked your men worthy of an introduction to your family. The kind of guy who you could, with no shame, flaunt to your family. A guy who would do well in the role of a sweet, loving husband and father in the comfort of the suburban home you built together.

Shame that they’re pretty hard to come by lately, not to mention that it doesn’t even matter anymore—

“…Y’know what I mean?” you rambled to the archer who had a permanent scowl itched on his face. Unbeknownst to you thanks to your drunken stupor, he’d been listening to you going off about your type.

He watched as you held an almost empty bottle of alcohol pressed to your chest, your eyes manning the space around you as if you were talking to a crowd of people. Much to your luck, the rest of the people had eventually retreated to their own tents, leaving you to the company of this — sorta cute — redneck.

“Like, where do you think I could even get them these days?” you laughed, your eyes going back to him. “But then, like, y’know, it doesn’t even matter ‘coz I got my family killed! And I didn’t even do anything, I just ran like a fucking coward.”

Daryl decided an hour and a half ago that he’d up and go off to somewhere else, maybe to hunt. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave in concern for the drunk woman beside him who’d sooner or later become another hunter’s prey. Maybe even the undead’s.

Pain in ‘ma ass, he’d thought to himself while watching you with a scowl as he sank back down to the log in front of the campfire. 

“I could use a bar of chocolate, but… This is the closest thing.” You made to gulp down more of the alcohol, but he reached out to snag it away from your hands. You yelled at the archer. “What are you—!”

“‘Yer a fuckin’ idiot,” he spat, setting the bottle aside. Daryl met your bewildered gaze, and he was certain you wouldn’t even remember it the next day. “Ain’t no reason blamin’ yourself for somethin’ ya couldn’t prevent. And ‘yer worried about all the wrong things, too! I’s out there huntin’ and I couldn’t care less ‘bout what kind’a girl I’d snag, I actually worried ‘bout somethin’ that matters! Like the fuck the camp’s gonna eat, which one of us would those stinking geeks get next and—!”

Daryl zipped his mouth shut for a good moment, realizing he’d said too much. Oh, fuck. He was thinking of ways to save this. He didn’t have an inkling on how to comfort a girl, much less a drunk and crying one. Your eyes turned glassy, your face contorting to…

“Pfft!” you laughed, further confusing the archer before you. He watched as you leaned backward, laughing. It was sort of a relief to watch and to hear; some great change of scenery to what he’d grown accustomed to seeing on the daily. “Y’know the” — you hiccuped — “funny thing about the guys I used to date? They ended up screwin’ some other pretty girl looking for the same guy as me. See, I cracked the code!”

You blinked a couple of times. Daryl remained silent. You couldn’t help but giggle as you leaned closer to the archer, and he couldn’t help but feel a surge of warmth in his chest as you came closer, your nose closing in on a couple of inches away from his. 

A buzzing sensation crawled from your chest to your cheeks, warming your face up as you felt something begging to be unleashed from within you—a confession, perhaps?

He got a good whiff of the alcohol from your dry lips as you opened your mouth to speak. “I should’ve been looking for someone like you!”

Daryl felt heat rush to his cheeks. He wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing: Good because you considered him worthy of being chosen or bad because that would mean he was the opposite of everything you thought was ideal in a partner?

Why did it matter to him?

You leaned closer. “Better yet, I think that you’re—”

The warmth he could feel inside of his chest was now outside too, pouring on the surface of his shirt with alcohol and bile mixing in the humid air of the night.

“Fucking hell!” he cursed in a whisper as your body slumped forward, passing out asleep on his lap. Daryl would have done the same as you if somebody told him that that night was the beginning of an epic love story.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The following days went by like a blur, with Daryl’s suspicion that you recalled everything dissolving into the relief that maybe you really had no idea what happened that night. You acted normal the day after that brilliant occasion, save for groggy eyes that lasted the entire day as well as a visible temper. 

You paid him no mind the entire time, but he assumed you were just embarrassed for confrontation. However, the entire week passed and you made no comment whatsoever about what transpired. 

His eyes always lingered on you a second longer than he’d intend to in an attempt to get a glimpse of embarrassment. He’d been meaning to tease you about it as revenge, but… Looks like you’ve forgotten. He probably should, too.

This very relief went away when you volunteered to come along with him to hunt for food. “I’m coming along, you should teach me how to use your crossbow,” you said, dagger in hand.

He wanted to argue, but worried he’d say something that would trigger your memory, he only nudged his nose up as a nod. 

The entire walk in the woods would have been a painful silence if not for the rustling of leaves in the trees and the subtle whistle of the wind.

You watched the broad shouldered archer before you made his way with calculated steps, even while you couldn't yet pinpoint a target. “Well, aren’t you stealthy?” 

Daryl spared a glare your way. “Why’d ya go huntin’ anyway? And with a blunt knife at that—are ya and idiot or somethin’?”

“‘Cause I was thinking maybe you should teach me your weapon of choice.” You looked at him as if he said something mad. “Didn’t I just say that, like, two minutes ago?”

He noticed that you said ‘should’ instead of ‘could.’

“Let me get this straight,” the archer started, halting, and you knew a scowl would greet you before he even faced you. “Ya went into the woods to hunt, but ya don’t even have a clue how?”

“Oh, honey, I didn’t say I needed you to teach me how to hunt. Didn’t even say I was gonna hunt.” You stepped closer to him. You noticed he took a subtle step back, and you couldn’t help but grin. Could it be that this rugged gentleman is nervous? “I said I wanted you to teach me how to use your crossbow.”

He cleared his throat, pulling back his armor of a scowl matched with an anger that was certainly uncalled for. “Oh, yeah? It’s fuckin’ stupid of ya to think I go around grantin’ everybody’s requests! And I ain’t gonna just stand here and take this, hunt by yourself.”

Daryl turned around, a casual swagger to his walk. You had to smirk at his back, knowing what he’d do next once you hit him with your first ammunition: intel. “I know something you stood for and took like a champ.”

The archer froze. 

“Thanks, by the way. And sorry you had to deal with that!” you exclaimed. “See, between the two of us, I’m not the stupid one. You could’ve used that against me, but you didn’t. And that just made me more interested in you—like, wow! You’re a lot more of a gentleman than you think you are.”

Oh, Daryl was pissed. Why were you the one making fun of him when it’s you who should’ve been abashed by what happened? “You remembered all along and ya didn’t say sorry?”

“I just did,” you said blankly.

Daryl faced you, shaking his head in a stubborn way. “Nah, ‘ya didn’t.”

“Yeah, I did. I said ‘sorry you had to deal with that.’”

He scoffed. “Doesn’t count.”

“Does too!” you spat back, this time grinning at the archer. You couldn’t help but laugh at his growing frown. “Come on, if you could take that with dignity, surely a crossbow lesson with Coach Daryl can’t be that bad.”

“Why do ya even want one? Thought ya said it wasn’t practical, righ’?” he asked, recalling all the times you called his weapon all kinds of things when you were drunk: “It’s way too heavy and takes up arm space! Can’t fit it in a pocket! It looks like a toy!”

You laughed out loud from his poor attempts at imitating you. Daryl felt the slightest tinge of embarrassment. He wanted to cup his own cheeks to make sure he wasn’t imagining the heat in there, worried he’d gone red. And if he did, he hoped you’d mistake it for the effect of the Georgia sun.

“Yeah, I did say that,” you said as-a-matter-of-factly.

Daryl raised a brow. “So why want it?”

You stepped forward again, taunting him. “Because I have a thing for the guy giving the lessons.”

The warmth that paid him a visit that one fateful night made its presence clearer, this time from the burrows of his chest. What the fuck was wrong with him? 

“I ain’t interested,” he said. Daryl was all things, but not a liar. This time, though, he might just be one.

Although he was looking down at you, he felt as if he was the one being challenged from above. He gulped. 

This time, you raised a brow at him. “Oh, you’re not into girls?”

“I—”

“I’m kidding. Y’know I thought the same, maybe you weren’t interested in me.”

Daryl shrugged, composing himself in an attempt to restore the dynamic he had in his head where he could be in a position where he could intimidate you. He couldn’t. “Yeah, ‘cause I ain’t.”

You continued to ramble on. “I was thinking, hey, maybe this guy doesn’t have any feelings for me!”

He put his hands on his hips, challenging you. But you weren’t quick to back down from a fight. “‘Cause I don’t.”

“Right,” you mused. “Didn’t you bring me a warm cup of tea the day after to help with my hangover?”

He watched you with question, but he worried you’d see the static coming from his chest and spreading to his arms. “Yeah, that woman Carol asked me to.”

“Huh,” you scoffed with a smile, ready for the look on his face to come and indicate your victory. “Funny. I was ready to ignore what happened, think of your kindness as nothing but kindness. But see, I came by sweet Carol’s tent to thank her but imagine my surprise when she said ‘What tea’?”

He had no answer to that. Usually, Daryl was a man who could think on his feet. Heck, you expected him to have some brilliant excuse. He was a hunter, after all. It was natural of him to think quickly.

You licked your lips, staring at his with that smirk of yours he wanted so badly to wipe off. “I’m gonna court you, Daryl Dixon. And you’re gonna say yes.”

The archer grunted, swinging his beloved weapon across his shoulder, shaking his head in denial. “I ain’t ever sayin’ yes to anything.”

“Sure, not today, not tomorrow, but a little push and I know I can get to you.”

Daryl spit somewhere on the dead soil surrounding you as he walked off to the trees. “Nah, never.”

As he disappeared into the forest, you couldn’t help but grin, feeling confident. You saw that moment of weakness. Somehow, some part of you knew it would happen. “Never say never, Daryl Dixon!”

You saw his middle finger raised just before he disappeared further, and you couldn’t help but laugh. Game on, archer.

It went on like that for a while. Daryl said he hated it, that ‘allat romance crap’s worth nothin.’ Still, those little slip-ups in his expressions and gait let you know that there was an opening there somewhere. 

He did start teaching you how to use his crossbow, and the first time you were able to shoot a deer with it, you felt as if his silence was born from both his shock and the fact that he was possibly impressed. 

“I can feel your boner from here, Dixon,” you smirked as you carried his crossbow with you as you began to walk over to your successful capture.

“Shuddup,” he said in response. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was definitely thrown off by how he was feeling watching you walking with his weapon. 

“Help me with this,” you said, grabbing the animal by its hind legs. “Carry the deer so the gang could see how kickass I look with your crossbow. No wonder you like it, it makes me feel sexy.”

When you faced the archer, you raised a brow. He’d been staring and out of focus longer than he intended to be, not that he did. You smirk at this.

“You’re starting to like me,” you said, pointing at him with an accusatory finger. “You were staring.”

“Nuh uh,” he said, composing himself as he hurried to haul the animal over his shoulder. 

“Is it the crossbow? ‘Cause I get it. I look at you with it and I think, ‘Oh, now that’s a man.’” You adjust the crossbow on your shoulder as Daryl watches you with confusion and… Maybe admiration? “I’m gonna do an experiment. This is hot.”

You move the crossbow to your hands, extending it outwards, posing for him with a slouch. “Not hot.”

You kept going on; hot with the crossbow, not hot for the crossbow. Until Daryl stopped you.

“Yer wastin’ time, yours and mine, when yer hot either way.” Daryl froze. So did you. His eyes widened, his cheeks redder than ever. “Not hot. Either way. Hey, I—!”

“You think I’m hot! You said I—!” you exclaim. Daryl clasped his clean hand over your mouth, pushing you against the tree. 

“They’re gonna hear ya.”

No walker came by. You could hear nothing but Daryl’s breath and yours, at least until he dropped his hand.

On the walk back to camp, you were grinning the entire way. Daryl remained silent, afraid he’d say something that you could use against him.

“That was a Freudian slip,” you said with a snort. 

Daryl wanted to argue, but knowing he couldn’t trust himself with talking, he kept his words short. “A what?”

“You subconsciously said something you actually meant. I get it, really.” You make a show of holding his crossbow. “I like you, you like me. But then you feel embarrassed that I’m going after you before you could go after me because you feel weird about a woman pursuing you even though you clearly really have the hots for her.”

He fought to keep his face stoic. “Nah, I don’t.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Alrigh,” Daryl said just to end the conversation.

“Alright as in yes you do?” you tease the archer. 

Daryl smirked, determined to get you to admit defeat on your mission to pursue him. “Alrigh’ as in I don’t care.”

But you weren’t a quitter. He’d shown a glimpse of how he felt, and you were determined to get it out of him. By the time you reached camp, you handed his crossbow over to him with a glimmer in your eyes.

“You seemed to enjoy having your hands on me just a couple of minutes ago.” You flip him off as you walk away to go help out with the rest of the people in the camp. “See ya, Dixon.”

Though he wouldn’t show it, Daryl would rather sleep in the woods alone, weaponless than admit that he did. 

It wasn’t just that. He didn’t hate the things you were doing to him and for him. He hated that he wished he thought of pursuing you sooner so he’d have the upper hand. . .

Nah, nah, I don’t. He shook his head to himself.

But it became harder to deny whenever you went out of your way to do something for him, especially when he lost his brother. When he mourned Merle, you were there. And you weren’t a menace like he thought you would be.

You were just. . .there. Giving him the bigger half of whatever food you had, lingering just ever so near, and more. Daryl was surprised to realize that he enjoyed your company. 

He knew he was fucked. Especially when he realized he missed you flirting with him, but he’d never tell you that.

II. NICE - GREENE FARM

Looking for a missing child was way easier when there were no corpses roaming the land of the living, back when there was no need to distinguish what’s alive and what’s not. You were hoping that Sophia would turn up as soon as possible. 

You felt a twinge of guilt realizing that your hope for the child being found was just Daryl’s return, but it wasn’t like that at all. It wasn’t that you had this silly crush on the archer. Yes, you did, but you needed the right time to talk to him about what happened at the CDC.

You’d never felt so mortified. For the longest time, you’ve been saying that you wanted to accept death in exchange for peace. You always thought that when the time comes, you’d be ready. It was a fucked up way to realize that you weren’t, and you found yourself out of breath, unable to chase your breathing.

Daryl was hysterical, but upon seeing you, he immediately rushed in front of you, cupping your face with his rough hands. 

“We’re gettin’ outta here alive,” he’d told you as your chest heaved from realizing you were nearing your doom. He then held you against his chest, his calloused fingers caressing your hair with the most gentle care, as if holding you wrong would cause you to break. You weren’t able to process the rest, but you remembered him at first assisting you in walking until he eventually carried you in his arms out of the facility right before it deteriorated.

You never got to speak to him since then except for when you encountered the herd on the road. He just asked if you were okay, and that was it. 

He’d been preoccupied looking for Sophia ever since. You didn’t want to assume that he’d only been looking for her just because that would make you the biggest insensitive asshole in the world. 

Just then, a young blonde girl came out of the house, a tray in hand. 

“Hi,” she said. You could tell right from how she held herself that she was of good nature. “I’m Beth. I brought you some tea and some oatmeal.”

A small smile came on your face, and you couldn’t help but let it grow brighter when you watched the girl realize why. 

“Oh, I gave this to you on my own—nevermind,” she sighed. “He told me not to tell you ‘cause he said you were—”

“A pain in his ass?” you teased with a grin. “Verbatim?”

Beth considered what she was going to say, but she eventually smiled as well as she set it on the small stool table beside the rocking chair you were sitting on while you stared in the distance. “Well, yes.”

You laughed together with the girl. It was easy to talk to her, you felt light. 

“But he also told me to watch after you.”

You waved your hand, dismissing Daryl’s order to the girl. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. In fact, we should share this oatmeal. It looks good!”

Beth gave you the warmest smile anyone’s ever given you for the past week. “No, I’m okay. He specifically told me to make sure you eat enough. Said he’d bring in something later for you later.”

This time, heat rushed to your cheeks. You stuffed it down. “I’m pretty sure the meat’s for all of us, just including me.”

“I don’t know,” Beth said, leaning against the railing of the house’s front porch. The air certainly felt different in the farm compared to every other place you’ve been to. The sun was setting, and the view of the sky could make anyone oblivious to the newfound horrors of the world. “He was talking about how you needed it, but my dad said you weren’t in need of any medicine. You just needed to eat somethin. And if you needed something for your headache, we have it.”

“I see,” you said, your shoulders sinking. “He’s probably just avoiding me.”

Beth faced you, confused. “Why would he do that?”

“Well, that’s Daryl.” You shrugged, thinking back to what he’d done for you at the CDC. You could almost feel his arms carrying you again, and you couldn’t help but feel the heat in your cheeks return. You instinctively look down. 

Beth noticed your brow furrowing just before you reached out to feel your temple. “Do you need anything?”

“Sorry you have to take care of me,” you say with an apologetic smile. “Just whatever you have for headaches and a decent sleep.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You awoke around the middle of the night to the door to your room shutting closed. At first, you thought that someone came in only to find that you were completely alone. You then heard the faint sound of footsteps walking down the stairs just outside. 

Stirring awake, you sit up straight to rub your eyes. Outside, the sky was dark. You must’ve slept for around eight hours, because you could no longer feel sleep returning easily. The urge was there, but you knew sinking back into a deep sleep would be for nothing. 

You yawn and scratch at your neck. On the nightstand to your right, you’re relieved to find a glass of water. But what stole your attention was what sat right next to it.

You were surprised to find three packs of chocolates: KitKat Bars, Kisses, and Hershey’s. There were also some packs of M&Ms.

Thinking back to the footsteps rushing down the stairs just a minute ago, you hurriedly carried all of the chocolates with you and ran down the stairs as lightly as you could so as to not wake anyone. 

You swung the screen door open, trudging down the stairs of the porch. You reach Daryl just before he enters the tent. You chuck the pack of KitKats to his head, to which he yelped. “Ow!”

“Do you like me?” you ask directly.

The archer faces you, picking up the pack of KitKats you threw at him. “What’d ya do that for?”

“Do you like me?” you ask, firmer this time.

There’s that pause. That two-second, lingering, suffocating pause. “I don’t.”

But that pause meant maybe. Both of you knew it, he just didn’t want to admit it, like he always does. Annoyed, you throw the rest of the chocolates to his feet. “Then you shouldn’t be doing things that make it seem like you do!”

You don’t know if it was the painkillers or just your interrupted sleep, but you definitely felt your temper controlling you. 

“I was bein’ nice.”

“Nice is opening the door for someone. Nice is handing the water pitcher at the dinner table. Nice is not asking someone to take care of me while you’re away, nice is not you bringing me chocolates like it’s Valentine’s to cheer me up when you know damn well how I feel about you. Nice is not making me feel like you feel the same and then take it back then just act like you do feel the same again!”

Daryl stood there, taking it all.

You rubbed at your eyes, your shoulders slumping. You feel a lump in your throat and your eyes begin to water. You stare at him for three seconds before turning around to return inside when he grabs you by the wrist to pull you into that same embrace he’d wrapped you into that day at the CDC. 

He was warm. God, he was warm. You hated that your body craved the press of his. 

He held you until you stopped crying. Until, for some reason, you were holed up in his tent, eating the chocolates he got for you while the two of you talked about everything and nothing. 

You realized how easy it was to speak to Daryl, too. How it came naturally, and how you felt comfortable being yourself around him outside of the flirting. Maybe it really was better to remain friends.

You were just being nice to each other. But if Daryl really did feel an ounce of what you felt, then that wouldn’t be very nice of him.

For a while, you accepted that. You stopped pursuing him altogether and maintained a respectable distance with him. He then always seemed to be everywhere you went, but you told yourself you were in over your head thinking he’d ever even feel the same way.

III. RETURN - PRISON

Life was good. Save for the nightmare that was facing the Governor, of course. The last time you felt a grudge against him was when he left with his brother, but you stopped yourself from feeling anything. After all, that was his brother and you were…

A friend. He’d apologized leaving by bringing you more chocolates from his run. Things have been good lately. You loved being friends with Daryl.

Sure, you’d find yourself in feats of attraction towards the guy ever so often, like the time he carried baby Judith. . .

That was something.

It didn’t help that he was looking at you while he was carrying her, even playing with her and showing her to you. You hated that even though you say you feel nothing anymore, sometimes everything resurfaces.

If only you knew what was going through his mind when he passed baby Judith to you. 

Those were little tests that failed to weaken your belief that you were better off as friends. You survived them. Yep, you were fine being friends. It was just a silly crush anyway.

“[Y/N],” Daryl called from outside your cell. “[Y/N], we’re heading out to get some meds, ‘ya need anythin’? Chocolates again, maybe?”

You were covered in two blankets head neck to toe, your back to the cell door. You said nothing, much less did anything to indicate you heard him. Daryl stepped inside, feeling bad that he’d crossed over but he somehow felt like he had to.

“[Y/N]?”

By the second Daryl laid his hands on your shoulder to tap you, he knew he had to turn you over. You were shivering in your half-sleep, and yet when Daryl pressed the back of his palm against you, you were burning up.

“Jesus, you’re—!”

“I think I caught it,” you said. You try to sit up, and Daryl helps you up. You turn the other way to cough. “I was gonna bring myself to the quarantine cell block, but I couldn’t stand up.”

“Here, I got ‘ya,” he said, helping you up. “You sure ‘ya don’t wanna stay here in your cell instead?”

You shook your head. “I could turn and infect everyone. I—”

“Hey.” He cupped your cheek with his hand, gently tapping it to keep you in check. “You’re not gonna turn, I’m not gonna let that happen to ‘ya. I’m goin’ out and gettin’ ‘ya the meds, then yer gonna be fine.”

“Well, that’s awfully nice of you,” you said drunkenly. On the way to the isolated block, you feel yourself losing your step… Losing your consciousness…

“[Y/N]? [Y/N]!”

And it all went dark.

The days that followed promised a new routine. After the supply run, you were the first stop Daryl visited. He talked to you, took care of you. He’d tell you stories about him and his brother Merle. You’d tell him about the guys you dated and every single terrible date experience you’ve had.

“Yeah, you said you hated dating ‘em. So you wanted to date guys like me instead, y’know, the kind you’d be embarrassed to introduce to your ma and pa.”

You laughed. “Oh, come on. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Friends, friends, friends. That’s how it is, how it should’ve been right from the start. It’s so easy to laugh with Daryl, so easy to be with him.

That was until you got better. You were out, making the rounds.

“Ya shouldn’t be here,” he’d told you when he caught you walking the perimeter with a revolver. “At least not yet. I’ll take over from here.”

“Nah, somehow I feel way sicker when I’m not doing anything.”

He shrugged. “You could read a book.”

“Oh, yeah?” you chuckled.

“Oh, yeah.”

Silence again. It was just the two of you in the dead of night, and you wondered if you only imagined the flurry of emotions back then when you were separated when you got sick.

You wanted to stay there in that moment forever, just standing in the dark with Daryl. But you felt a sort of suffocating sensation the moment you thought of him fondly. You were a bit sleepy anyway.

“Actually, maybe I should go.” Yawning, you stuff the revolver back to your holster. “Good night, Daryl.”

You only got to walk past him a couple of steps before he spoke.

“[Y/N]?” he called out to you just before you were about to return to your quarters. You felt sleep about to take you in deeply, but you fought it off, telling yourself it’ll be quick.

You face the archer, raising an interrogative brow in response. 

For some strange, mundane reason, you found him extra lovely tonight. You were forced to discover why as he leaned forward, pressing his lips into yours in the most gentle way he could. You pull away.

There’s a question in your eyes, and so he only kisses you again in response. You kiss him back, this time with desperation. You don’t know where to put your hands, overwhelmed by this gust of exhilaration washing over you as his hands caress the nape of your neck. 

He pulls away this time.

You couldn’t believe it. So many thoughts ran into your head. Pursuing Daryl used to be something you were just looking forward to as a challenge, maybe even just for the sole purpose of enjoying a fling knowing the end is near.

But you got to know him. He got to know you, and you let him. You felt heat rush to your cheeks, bringing them high enough for the most genuine grin to show in your face. “Does this mean—?”

“Nah.” He takes a step backward, and your grin instantly dissolves into a frown at the sight of him shaking his head. “No, I…”

What?

You shake your head in disbelief. 

What the fuck?

Your smile faltered further. The butterflies in your stomach you thought you felt suddenly felt as if you were about to throw it up again.

“No?” you utter in disbelief, the taste of his lips still stuck somewhere in your mouth. You step backward as well, staring into space as you touched the lips of yours he’d just kissed with so much passion, opposite to the coldness he’d brought upon you with that one word. The rush from the kiss was being drowned by an otherworldly anger threatening to be unleashed. “What the—No?”

You turn your focus to him again. He says nothing, his back to you as he stares into the dark greenery outside of the fence. 

“You make me chase after you like a fool and ‘No’?”

Daryl sunk into himself. He didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve anything you gave him. He didn’t know what to say. “I didn’t ask ‘ya to.”

He wanted to disappear. 

“Right.” You had to laugh. “Turn around. Face me.”

The archer obliged, and you couldn’t read his face enough through the tears born from your anger. He hated that he wanted to grab you by the waist and pull you into another kiss, to press his lips against your neck and down to your chest. He wanted to caress your hair, to—

“Back at the CDC, I wanted to stop pursuing you. But then” — his heart broke as your voice cracked — “you held my hand when we found out we could die and you looked at me with those fucking eyes of yours on your goddamn face and I thought maybe there was something real, something I could get out of you if I tried hard enough.”

“We’re gettin’ outta here alive,” he’d told you as your chest heaved from realizing you were nearing your doom. He held you against his chest, his calloused fingers caressing your hair with the most gentle care, as if holding you wrong would cause you to break.

“Then you were cold again, and I thought maybe you were just being kind like usual back then but you—argh! You got me chocolates when I was scared shitless from almost dying and called it being nice and friendly before holding me again!”

You rubbed your eyes, frustrated more than ever.

“You just had to take advantage of the fact that I’m weak for you! You nursed me back to health when I got sick, you spoke to me as if you felt the same way, just—everything! You say you didn’t ask me to chase after you but when I did stop, you find ways to get me back on your trail and now you kiss me and then you take it back?”

You felt your heart begging to be freed. You couldn’t breathe. The lump in your throat was building up, and you knew it did its work once you felt your cheeks begin to wet. 

You couldn’t even see him clearly through your tears. “What the fuck do you want, Daryl?”

How could he tell you? What could he say? He didn’t even know what he wanted. Still, you waited in hopes he’d give you an explanation. That he’d at least explain himself.

“Do you like me?” you ask him again. No response.

You steel yourself for what you were about to ask next. 

“Do you love me?”

Silence. 

“God, I’m so stupid."

Realizing the chance you gave him is all for naught, you shook your head with a mirthless laugh as you walked away. The embrace of sleep never returned, and you were left to stare at the ceiling, waiting for daybreak to come just so you could fight an unwinnable war.

i'm still building my blog. so for now, just send me an ask to be added to my taglist :)

TAGLIST: @vaniniweenie @avabh12 @stinkygirl009

[floralcyanide]

― ᴅᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴊᴀᴠɪ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴs

headcanons of you being friends with Javi and it leading to something more in the future.

↝ pairing: Javier "Javi" Rivera / Gender Neutral!Reader

↝ warnings: SPOILERS FOR TWISTERS (2024), friends to lovers, kissing, innuendo, mentions of injury/ scarring

↝ word count: 1k

↝ author's note: this was requested by anonymous! thank you for the request, and for the others who have sent some in, I will be getting to to them soon! (: enjoy more Javi content ♡

masterlist ⋇ divider credit: @saradika | @cafekitsune

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

✲ You and Javi were thick as thieves all throughout school. You were those two best friends who stuck together no matter what came at you. Even when you harbored a major crush on Javi, you still remained his partner in crime. There wasn’t anything separating you two.

✲ The two of you went on to college together, even. Working in the same field, nonetheless. You meet Kate, Raveen, Addy, and Jeb in environmental science class. All of you worked together on a grand project that Kate had proposed. And the time came for you all to go out in the field and conduct the research.

✲ It goes horribly wrong very quickly. You ended up injured just like Kate, except you have a nasty scar on your arm instead. You, Javi, and Kate are the only ones who survived the ordeal, and after that, communication slowly comes to an end between the three of you.

✲ You lose touch with Javi when he leaves for the military. The storm changed him, and he wasn’t really the same after. Neither were you, but you still deeply cared about Javi and hated to see him go. You tried sending letters and even calling but to no avail.

✲ 5 years have passed, and you’re now an environmental science professor specializing in tornadic weather. You work closely with meteorologists for research purposes. You have written several essays, books, and even textbooks on weather phenomena. 

✲ It’s a normal day when you get a call from an unknown number. Usually, you don’t answer them, but this time something inside you said you should. Much to your surprise, it’s Javi. 

✲ “Hello?” you answer after accepting the call. “It’s so nice to hear your voice again.” a familiar voice says. “Javi Rivera? Is that you?” you immediately close your laptop, sitting in your office chair, nearly frozen in place. 

✲ Javi explains that the company he works for is trying to find a way to stop tornadoes or at least learn how they work, and they need your help. He tries to say you’re one of the best in the field. “Just one of the best, huh? Who else did you call before me?” “I’ll be honest, we called Kate. But she didn’t want anything to do with it.”

✲ You agree to meet with Javi to discuss the project further. The day comes for you to see Javi again, and you’re beyond nervous. But when you arrive at the cafe, and he’s sitting there, all that nervousness fades away and is replaced by those old feelings of butterflies. 

✲ After talking about the company’s ideas, you veer off-topic. You notice Javi staring at you with an expression you can’t quite put your finger on. “What is it?” you ask. “Nothing, I just didn’t expect you to be so much more beautiful now.” Javi smiles as a tinge of red dusts his cheeks at the confession. “Well, if it helps, I didn’t expect you to be more handsome, but I’ve always thought you were.”

✲ A deep conversation leads to both of you finding out you had liked each other all those years and even now. A considerable amount of time has passed, and you realize you must head home for work early the next morning. Javi walks you outside to hail a taxi, but before you climb inside the backseat, he grabs your face and kisses you. It’s sudden, and you aren’t expecting it, but you kiss back. It isn’t until the taxi driver honks his horn that you pull away. 

✲ “Let me know what you think, okay?” Javi says. “About you or chasing again?” you ask, a playful smile on your lips. “Both.” 

✲ Chasing with Javi knowing how you feel about each other is a little more nerve-wracking than it probably would have been if you hadn’t known. Especially since you feel the need to be in the truck with him every time you go somewhere or worry incessantly every time you go to put out the panels during a tornado. You’re afraid something is going to happen again.

✲ But it all fades away eventually. You succeed in the project and are able to create an early-warning system and have enough data to possibly get rid of tornadoes all together. You and Javi decide to go on a proper date after everything settles. 

✲ It’s a simple picnic out in the fields of Oklahoma, but you don’t mind. It’s where everything started with you and Javi, anyway. You thought you’d never come back here, yet here you are. “Can I say something?” Javi asks suddenly after a few minutes of silence. He stares at the clear sky for a moment before turning to you, “I’m sorry I left you behind here. And I’m sorry I never reached out while in the military. I just didn’t know when I’d be coming home or if I’d be coming home, actually.” “I understand, Javi. You don’t have to apologize.” “I kept your letters. I got them all, and I still have them.” 

✲ Javi is taken by surprise when you lean in and return the kiss he gave you weeks ago back in the city. But he kisses back, of course. “I’m glad you kept them, Javi. I just wish you would have at least responded to one,” you chuckle. 

✲ The two of you end up working side-by-side on the project to take down tornadoes once and for all. Your relationship blossoms as you get to know each other all over again. Javi treats you like royalty, always running to open the car door for you, drawing your baths, and cooking you dinner. He always ensures you’re taken care of and makes up for lost time.

✲ Oh, there’s a lot of making up, for sure. Sometimes, you have to sneak into a storage closet at work to compensate. It’s for all those times you and Javi thought about doing something about your attraction yet never did. But there’s the rest of your lives now.

[victoriadallonfan]

Having re-watched Alien (1979) and Aliens (1985), I think I've realized what went wrong with the further expanded film universe on a thematic level (this is not accounting for AVP films, which seem to exist within their own continuity atm).

The main issue is that these films made 2 intertwining mistakes:

Making the Xenomorph too animalistic

Removing the mystery of space

For the first part, Alien and Aliens are quite vague about the Xenomorph mind. Alien treats it almost like a serial killer at times, including a particularly interesting moment where it disregards Jones the Cat entirely, despite making a very easy target, and how it will sometimes meander up to the crew as if it knows it's inflicting terror upon them. This Xenomorph even seems to only flee when Parker goes to kill it with a knife and hides within the evac shuttle when it realizes that Ripley was going there as well.

Aliens forgoes this in favor of showing how terrifying their numbers are even in the face of superior (if greatly mislead) fire power, but then pulls the rug under our protagonists by (seemingly) cutting the power and testing the endurance of the auto-turrets. While the drones are not individually as intelligent as the original xenomorph from the first film, this is instead given to the Queen, who understands not only the danger Ripley poses to her Hive but hostage negotiations of the most blunt variety. And, of course, incredible spite and vengeance when Ripley burns her eggs.

Basically, the two films do a good job of making you wonder... how sapient and sentient are the Xenomorphs? Do we take Ash's word and think of them as simply Hostile Weapons or do we see them for the adaptable and complex - if instinct guided - parasites just trying to protect their hive? This is further food for thought when we learn that one of the cut endings would have had the Xenomorph kill Ripley, tentatively use the shuttles control panel, and speak into the intercom with Dallas voice (ala Predator).

Imo, that goes too far into making them human, but we'll circle back to that later. The point is that the Xenomorph is never clearly one thing or another, but rather, something that constantly foils our attempts to understand them completely.

Aliens 3, Alien: Resurrection, Prometheus, and Alien: Covenant fail in that regard, because they take the firm stance that the Xenomorph is... an animal. A very, very, dangerous and hostile animal but an animal nonetheless. It's not some vague horror that we struggle to comprehend and reason with, because all the facts (as they are for now) are laid out: the Xenomorphs are weaponized animals that just kill, reproduce, and kill etc etc.

Nothing is entirely new about the Xenomorphs in these movies (beyond the forms and one part of Covenant, but we'll circle back to that as well), but rather trying to recapture the formula of Alien and Aliens. And even when the film isn't necessarily about the Xenomorphs like Prometheus, it still goes out of its way to copy the play by play of Alien to an almost hilarious degree (except, somehow, having a cast entirely of stupid scientists).

The Xenomorph is used as a toll for the films to talk more about the human threats who would use them, which is fine, except the same message of "Weyland-Yutani wants Xenomorphs, They Failed" over and over again (except I guess for Alien: Resurrection, but that had Walmart as a plot point so...) gets tedious. It's not longer about the folley of mankind, but rather this one company led by a man (or Android?) who keeps fucking up.

Ditto goes for the second part: removing the mystery from space. Alien and Aliens treat the Space Jockey and other (non-Xenomorph) alien life at an arms distance. They are large, grand, ominous, and vaguely defined. We don't know much about WY in either movie, nor how much is them knowing versus independent people within the company (Burke mentions cutting out his own bosses for profit for example, and Bishop the company Android is heroic and horrified at the situation they are all in, a big difference to Ash). The Xenomorphs having a Queen was a huge reveal, because we literally had no idea until then if those were actual eggs or simply pods artificially created.

Aliens 3 tries to add some mystery with the prison colony, but it's also hamfisted and given a lot of exposition to explain the situation they are in, but I will give it kudos for making Weyland (???) look like Bishop as a twist. Aliens: Resurrection... yeah, no.

Prometheus and Alien Covenant gave us a plethora of seeming mysteries, but also gives us really super simple answers. Basically, Space Jockeys are just super humans seeding life across the planets and they wanted to bomb Earth into oblivion because we killed Jesus Christ (who was a Space Jockey). And one of our androids then - possibly - goes to their home planet and bombs them to oblivion thus wiping out the human race. And they made Xenomorphs yadda yadda.

Prometheus in particular seems to despise the idea of space being a mystery, with the conversation David has with a scientist being plainly spelled out as the theme of the film: "Sometimes, humans/space jockeys just build shit, and it goes wrong I guess. No gods or mysteries here, just hubris."

Which, if handled well, is still a fascinating idea (I think it's a pretty interesting 'take-that' against the stupidity of Ancient Alien Conspiracy Theorists)... but it's not handled well. At all. And certainly doesn't work well when trying to write Xeno-Horror.

So, what COULD work?

Well, I think we need to look at how Alien and Aliens made the Xenomorphs, Space Jockey's, and Space itself all work.

For the xenomorphs, I think back to one scene I actually thought was interesting in Alien: Covenant; as a chestburster is born from a hapless scientist, it lays its eyes (???) on David and replicates his movements, mimicking the first living thing it witnesses. Nothing is ever done with this (of course), but think about the potential that could be used! Plenty of animals like crows, ravens, dolphins, octopi, killer whales etc etc can use mimicry in voices and actions, and that includes things like tool-use! And of course, the fact that they take on new forms from hosts helps with that.

For the Space Jockey's: scrap them. They had their time, the mystery is basically solved. Show us new and different alien civilizations long past. Were they also victims of the Xenomorphs? From some other threat entirely? Surely, there are extraterrestrial predators out there that don't follow the Xenomorph formula. Why not have them share the splotlight, with just as little explanation?

For space itself: stop with trying to recapture Alien and Aliens. Alien: Isolation is the only successor specifically because of the format of the medium. Alien and Aliens rely heavily on the shock factor of sudden reveals. Remove that, and you are given "bug hunt" games and movies ala discount Starship Trooper. Focus more on making human space feel almost alien and beyond our understanding as well, but just enough that we can recognize the purpose that we would have them for our society.

How I would write an Alien Story:

(This would all be backstory and setup for the actual story)

I would set it within a colony satellite with an explicit task: a skyscraper ecological time-capsule for deep space experimentation of wildlife.

It would have levels, with humans situated at the second uppermost and an AI as the manager at the top level of the satellite, with all the other animals in different levels fit for their habitats (including some non-earth, non-xenomorph aliens). It's a religious sponsored and run organization, offshoots of [Insert Church Here] that is trying to get good press with cutting edge AI and biological research.

The prize is an alien lifeform that looks like a cross between a crocodile and a panther. Usually docile when fed, it has been growing more and more agitated, harming several workers on the job. Most assume it may be some late-stage degenerative disease within it's brain.

Not all things are as it seems, as at the bottom of the station, a location no one but a select few faithful engineers are sent to maintain, a pod is damaged. A young attendant watches in shock and horror as a bloody and maimed chest burster crawls out of the pod, possibly having injured itself to burn through the lock. The creature is mewling in pain, but the young attendant makes a choice: leaving food, water, and blanket for the creature. Watching as the creature watches them, before going to feast. All under the gaze of a camera.

The xenomorph grows and grows, eating more, getting bolder and allowing its "caretaker" to feel more comfortable. Soon it begins to recognize certain sounds as they pray when he feasts, and association occurs. One day, its hiss sounds suspiciously like "Lord".

This is when the young attendant reaches out to higher, but trusted, priests to share this miraculous revelation. The first one is shocked, terrified, but intrigued as the creature mimics words like "Lord" and "Mighty". Barely audible, some would say hallucinatory, but they believe they can here this humanoid creature speak their language.

The second is equally shocked, terrified, but listens and becomes a believer.

The third one does not believe. Rightfully horrified and full of questions. Their arguments in front of the beast escalate into violence and when the young attendant shoves the priest to the ground, it is the Xenomorph that pounces. Blood is shed. the creature rises in front of it's faithful, and the Xenomorph uses the same sounds it heard over the fight. Lord. Mighty. Here-tik.

They can't be delusional or driven by guilt! This is a sign... right? This creature is speaking to them!

The faith grows. Never large. Can't risk word getting out or people noticing too many missing priests. The satellite is just barely large enough that people can excuse going missing for a few days between objectives.

But key individuals are brought in. The creature is worshiped. Animal offerings are delivered. It's changing, slowly. Growing larger (not a Xenomorph Queen, it's too maimed, but adapting to a steady diet).

Things might have escalated, had one of the priests killed not had an estranged sibling/spouse/loved one who had the pull to make a formal investigatory complaint.

The investigator arrives with his repertoire, this supposed garden of eden in deep space, none the wiser to what he would uncover. (Again, this would be the backstory, not revealed except through character investigations and evidence found during that. Defeats the purpose if it's spelled out like this).

It would play with the idea of how sapient/sentient the Xenomorphs are (do they care? do they understand? if not, why act like this? if yes, what does this mean for their continued slaughter), how much one puts into faith versus delusions, and leaves lingering questions: who put the xenomorph on the ship, why is the AI so complicit with the deaths and disappearances, and why is the one non-xenomorph alien acting so dangerously agitated despite being far away from the xenomorph's quarters?

[miridiums-writing]

Hey could you write like a Thranduil x y/n thing? I kinda need it right now.

No Escape

Thranduil x reader fan fic

Imagine : If only you didn’t look so similar to his passed wife, maybe you could have made it out of the elven kingdom with the others.

Authors note : im sorry ive been gone so long, im back now though I promise. Ill set up a new masterlist and we can all forget my old works don’t exist because I hate them all.

The forest was so dark, you and the rest of the company trying to navigate through the winding trails. It was all going fine and well until you all realized you were gong in continuous circles. Seeing the same trees, the same oddly shaped rocks over and over that you all realized something was wrong. “lets just set up camp for now and try again tomorrow.” You insisted, noticing the frustration of the others. “Fine,” Thorin conceded. “We get out of here tomorrow though, we have to keep pushing forwards.”

With that you all settled down for the night, you went off to gather some wood for a fire with Bilbo, unsurprisingly your favourite of the company given how down to earth he was, plus the pure entertainment factor he brought to the group at times due to his cushioned upbringing. “Do you think we actually will get out tomorrow?” Bilbo asked, clearly more worried if that could be the case than he let on. “’course we will, we’ve gotten this far haven’t we?” You reassured, patting the top of Bilbo’s head in hopes of calming his anxiety. “I suppose so.” He mused, adding another stick to the bundle you had already gathered. “Exactly,” You said with a warm smile. “Nothing left to bring us down now except the dragon.” Bilbo seemed to grimace at this. “Don’t remind me” He grumbled. You just laughed lightly. “You’re far too negative, always hope for the best, and prepare for the worst. That’s why you’re here, you little burglar.” “I’m not a burglar.” He reminded. “Well, you’re the best we’ve got, maybe when we’re out of this forest I can help train you how to be stealthy.”

The light banter between the two is quickly cut off by a very loud thump against the forest floor, almost shaking the ground between the pair of you. You immediately dropped the pile of branches to the moss ground, breaking into a sprint back to the others, you could here them in the distance fighting when you’re path was blocked by the biggest spider you’ve ever seen in your life. It was a large black, hairy thing, immediately trying to shoot webs in your direction to catch you. Adrenalin jumped you into first gear, dodging by a hair at the first shot, and bringing your bow and arrow from your back to aim at the spider, aiming right between the eyes and firing the shot. The shot lands. The spider falls, only for three more to appear in its place. This was not going to be easy.

You reach back grabbing another arrow and letting it fly, hitting each spider as they came with pristine accuracy. Even with such accuracy though from years training, it didn’t seem to be enough. The arrows quickly started to dwindle, before running out. Not having enough time between spiders to scavenge for your arrows, leaving you eventually cornered, and empty handed. Though just as one of the spiders went to launch itself at you it got violently thrown backwards by...an elf?

~~~~~

You couldn’t decide whether you preferred the spiders, or this. Getting dragged, cuffed, towards a rathe impressive looking castle. Not that you’d ever say that allowed, in fear of further angering Thorin who already looked like he was plotting the elves deaths in detail, shouting, swearing and struggling as he went. You kept your head down, not sure what was about to happen, but not wanting to anger the elves, especially after they went out of their way to save their lives. Even if it meant they’d ended up getting dragged to the dungeons. You had graciously been given a cell alone. Given you were the only woman in the group it seemed only fair. You got yourself comfy against the wall, listening to the others chat amongst themselves on what to do, waiting for a quiet moment to bring up what felt like the most important thing to worry about. “Where is Bilbo?” You said, cutting through the whispers. The others immediately went silent at that. He wasn’t among them, you hadn’t seen him since before the spiders. “Maybe he’s doing what he does best, burgling the keys.” Baldin grunted. You just hoped he was right.

All talk of escape was cut off by guards coming down, leading Thorin from his cell to meet the king. When the dungeon door closed behind them all of you sighed. If Thorin was angry, which he was, all hope of doing this civilly was going to be immediately snuffed out by his rage. The wait for Thorin to come back was long, and silent. Talk of escape had died completely as you all waited tensely for him to return. And return he did. His eyebrows furrowed in rage, cursing under his breath as he was pushed back into his cell resulting in a loud bang as his body collided with the floor. No words needed to be spoken for them to know it hadn’t gone well. The already depressing reality hit like a train. Unless a miracle happened. This was it.

~~~~~~~

You woke up the next morning to banging against the bars of your cell. You were crumpled against the wall, your back strained from the position you’d slept in. “Get up.” The guard said gruffly, starting to poke you with the sheathed sword to fully wake you up. “Get up!” The demanded again, much more aggressively than previously. You slowly started more your cramped body up off of the floor. The cell door opened and two guards immediately grabbed your arms ad started dragging you out of the dungeon to who knows where. The walk was long and winding, it felt like they were taking you on a confusing route on purpose to make sure you didn’t know the way out. Or maybe the halls really were this confusing, who knows. Either way you eventually arrived at a rather impressive looking door. Large green wooden panels made up the door with large tree roots encasing the doors, twirling around the doors handles.

Someone from the other side opened the doors leading to what seemed to be a throne room, with a tall blonde haired man sat on top, a rather dramatic crown upon his head, adorned with gems and jewels to mimic a berry branch. He watched closely as you were dragged in, forced to kneel down in front of him on the ground. His expression seemed to change from mild annoyance to surprise as you got closer. Now kneeled before him, the man stood, towering over you as he stared down at your face, almost like he didn’t believe it. “Oh, it’s you” He said, relief and sadness laced his voice. His legs seemed to give out under him and kneeled down staring at your face with tears in his eyes. “Oh my dear, how I’ve missed you. I though- I thought you died.” He said, his voice cracking slightly as his hand reached for your cheek, fingertips gently grazing your cheek. You stared at him blankly. Not a flicker of recognition behind your eyes as he acted as if you were supposed to know him. Confusion took over his features at your lack of response. “Calatheil? My blossom, why are you acting like you don’t know me?” Now it was your turn to be confused, “That’s not my name, I’m (Y/N).” You said in response. The man went quiet after that, staring holes into the floor. “But you look like her.” He said, his voice firm, like it was a fact. “That doesn’t mean I am her”

The man went silent again for a moment, anger passing over his face before disappearing. “Of course it does,” He said. “You’ve just forgotten is all.” His words were firm and absolute. “Ill just need to remind you, my poor wife” You looked at him as if he was insane. “But I’m not. I am not your wife, I’m sorry. But I’m not... I wanna go back to my cell now.” The man laughed without humour. “Absolutely not, my wife shouldn’t be around such vermin.” “Do you mean the dwarves?” you asked, going on the defensive, they were your friends, were they odd absolutely, but that didn’t mean you loved them any less. “Of course I do! You’ll be going no where near them ever again. Guards, take her to my room, and do not under any circumstances let her get free!” He ordered, standing up from his crouched position and heading back to his thrown. “And bring me Thorin! I may be inclined to allow his freedom under a condition.” You were once again grabbed by guards and dragged out. “No! I’d rather cells, don’t you dare, I’m not your wife! Let me go!” Your shouts died down as you were dragged further away, thrashing in an attempt of any escape, managing to get one arm free only for more guards to hold you, overpowered once more by the numbers. The struggling silenced to Thranduil as the door shut behind you.

[darcytaylor]

You may be tired of this discourse and in that case, feel free to skip this lol, but I was thinking about some things today after rewatching S3 and seeing the new pap attack on N&JD and Tom H getting fed up with Zendaya being swarmed by fans, and I was thinking, what would I do if I was in their position or I was the normie partner of a celebrity? Like, I can't even imagine dealing with something like that, but if I had to, what would I do?

I was also thinking about why I was really put off by A's latest photo dump and I've come to some realizations. I was aware of her existence early on but I wasn't deep into the fandom until May, so I wasn't phased by the stuff with her and L that came out after. I didn't look into her much because frankly I wasn't interested and I was very vocal about people giving her grace or barring that, at least ignoring her. I felt like whatever she did, the fandom would find a way to hold it against her, so she might as well live her life. That is why when people spoke of her "playing SM games", I scoffed at it and interpreted her posts as typical GenZ SM activity. But that started to change for me when she posted those two stories where she literally bent over backwards to show us that L was her phone background, and resurfaced again with the latest summer dump, where she went out of her way to post parallel photos with L when he'd made every effort to make this paid-for promo as free of any hints to his private life as possible. And I started to think, why would she do that, especially if it was a sponsored post (which, mind you, is still up), which he would be expected to be professional about? If I was the partner of a celebrity and they clearly wanted us to be private, and made every effort to make it so, why, out of everything I could be posting, would I post things that would be sure to rile up a trigger-happy fandom and heap further hate onto my partner? Why, after everything that's happened, would someone do that? The only reason I can think of is - they care more about the attention they're getting from being with that person than the person's actual wellbeing.

Both him and his entire friend group changed their posting behavior post-Sorrento. Everyone... Except A. Now, I don't know what goes on in her comment sections, I don't go there nor do I wish to, so I don't know what she might be responding to with her posts. However, when everyone else in their circle has pulled back and learned lessons about fame and unhinged stalker behavior, why hasn't she? I used to make the argument of, well, she's a model and dancer, and therefore she has to maintain an SM presence to book jobs. Yet... These kinds of posts - the hints, the random limbs, the implied company, the specific timing and locations... These are things that contribute nothing to her professional aspirations. Most of them are empty landscapes and very generic photos without her in it. There's no purpose to them other than to maintain a back-and-forth with a small but captive audience that's build up around her. I now realize that I got this all wrong because to me, desiring and actively seeking out attention or fame is an alien concept - I don't understand why anyone would. But something about watching Portia say "my girl" to Pen after her speech and then remembering that that's exactly what A's mom commented on the papgate pics made me realize that I need to look at this from the POV of her having gone on a talent show and having a dad who's a DJ and how chasing fame (or in A's case, it's moreso notoriety) might not just be normalized, but perhaps even the "done thing" in her household. If my mom saw me plastered all over the tabloids with me and my partner looking freaked out and miserable, I'd really take issue with her if that was her reaction. What about that sordid incident was to be celebrated??? I understand now why so many people felt strongly it had been staged.

So now that my lens has shifted, I've been analyzing her actions from the POV of - what if they're calculated? And while L isn't entirely without fault here, he has course-corrected, so what's her endgame here? Both of their careers seem to have suffered. If I'm not mistaken, she used to be able to book better gigs, and while the Hollywood downturn is something that is happening, one has to wonder if all of this drama hasn't impacted L's ability to book roles, especially when compared to his costars' bookedness and busyness.

I was also thinking about all the WT-related events that she awkwardly tagged along to and what I would've done if I was in a situation like that, getting bombarded with hate from strangers over my very existence, but I liked the person and I wanted to stay with them. And honestly? I wouldn't have gone. Or at the very least, I would've been as discreet as possible. And while it's clear that it's L who had to invite her and he's the one who waffled on launching her until someone else did it for him, she could've conducted herself differently and at least flown under the radar more. Yet she elected to be photographed on red carpets, stepping out of cars with his family, knowing that people would pay attention to that group of people. What did she think would happen? That the public would swoon over her, someone with very little to her name? And it's like, at this point, she could stop. She should stop. L, R, S all have, to the best of my knowledge. But she can't seem to help herself. She had to make it known that she was in Spain with him, and for a second time, too. At this point I can no longer reasonably attribute these patterns of behavior to her age or inexperience. She's not changing her ways because she's feeding off of this. I mostly wasn't paying attention, but I was also naive, because I don't think like people who desire fame think. I just wonder where L is at with all of this and why he's going along with it still, is it rose-colored glasses? Does he feel guilty for everything that's transpired? Is he now stubborn and feeling petty, so he'll keep indulging her and trolling the fandom by proxy?

I was thinking about how there are so many celebrities whose partners I couldn't pick out of a lineup - I know they exist, but they aren't front and center. Some even have rabid female fanbases, yet they've managed to keep their private lives on the DL. I couldn't tell you what David Tennant's wife looks like, or Dan Stevens', or Jamie Dornan's, to name a few. There are actors who have been with their partners for a long time but almost never take them to events and they're still fine. So, I don't know if N&L landed in the spotlight too late in life so they still think of themselves as regular people and couldn't really anticipate this, but in A's case, given everything I know about her now, I'm honestly done giving her the benefit of the doubt. My biggest question now is - why does L continue to? And for how long? Is he complicit in these games or does it not even occur to him that's what they are, like in my case? I guess if we don't look too closely at things, we can't see them for what they are.

Anyway, I hope you're having a fun rewatch like I did and I hope our faves are safe and happy and DM burns to the ground, amen.

I wasn’t too sure if I wanted to respond to this ask because I was concerned it might add unnecessary drama to this whole situation. However, I thought about it and realised that you seem to be approaching this with a lot of empathy and depth, which I really appreciate. Your long, drawn-out paragraphs (which I definitely appreciate!) tell me you’ve put a lot of reflection into this.

You raise some interesting points about navigating a relationship with a public figure, especially when the partner isn’t someone in the public eye (and maybe they want to be and their family wants it for them as well). It’s understandable to wonder what someone would do in that position, especially when you see posts that seem to clash with the other's desire for privacy. Something about it feels like it's part of a social media game - or even a subtle taunting of the fans/fandom.

I do like that you questioned if it could be Antonia being Gen Z and that it might just be part of that always-online mentality, where sharing life moments (even indirectly) is natural, without considering public repercussions. But at the same time, if you’re dating a public figure who wants privacy, it would make sense to be more mindful. Part of being in the public eye is knowing that people will observe your every move, and when those closest to you don’t understand that reality, it will create issues.

I understand the shift in your perspective. When actions repeatedly go against someone’s implied boundaries, it raises questions about motivation and whether they’re prioritising attention (self-image or fame) over respecting the relationship they are in.

I noticed the change in the friend group after the Sorrento trip as well (I think I also mentioned it somewhere in a blog post), and while I will say Antonia did change her habits a bit (she deleted a number of Instagram posts of her trips with Luke), I agree that out of everyone, she’s still the one who continues to post and make it known that she may be with him (but then fan's also imply and spiral over the smallest things as well). It’s strange to continue doing that when you know these posts will only fuel ongoing speculation rather than help reduce it. And honestly, I think that, at this point, reducing speculation could only be beneficial for Luke. Antonia's posts seem more detrimental than supportive.

I’m sure fame would be hard to navigate, and I think it’s fair to say that, in certain situations, some people might see an opportunity to maintain or even leverage attention, regardless of how it might play out publicly.

In the end, I have no idea why any of the people in this situation continue to do what they’re doing, or why they keep posting things that only fuel more drama. I’ve mentioned before that maybe this is Luke’s way of not letting the fandom dictate his life - but, like you said, maybe he’s seeing things through rose-coloured glasses, or even feeling a sense of guilt or responsibility to make Antonia happy given the amount of hate she’s received. It could be any combination of loyalty, stubbornness, or simply him wanting to show support, even though the public perception won’t be positive. Luke could be trying to balance his desire to keep things private with Antonia’s approach, which may be different. But we won’t know for sure without knowing him personally (or being him!). It's all speculation and guesswork.

In the end, these kinds of things are complex, and I think reflecting on why people make the choices they do is absolutely valid and normal. But like I always say, there are so many possibilities for why things are taking place and unfolding the way they are. There are countless options and scenarios, both now and in the past, that could explain each action. Even if something seems clear, as fans, we don't know anything about motivations or anybody’s relationship status.

I really enjoyed reading your ask - it offers a lot to consider about how fame and notoriety affect both personal and professional lives, especially when someone’s actions seem intentional or at odds with their partner’s approach to privacy. So thank you!

I am having fun with my rewatch! I also wouldn't mind if DM burnt to the ground!

[zweiginator]

Dom Patrick giving you punishments and torturing you for being bratty

dom!patrick inviting you to a nice dinner and there are going to be other couples there. other, very important couples who can help patrick’s career immensely. so it’s not like he doesn’t respect you and your choices—but he makes it very clear. look nice, look classy, be respectable. and he’s never had to worry about that; you’re always well-dressed and even more well-behaved.

but maybe you’re jealous that patrick has been spending so much time sucking up to his bosses and the higher ups in his company. and maybe he’s been more and more friendly with their wives. simply as a common courtesy, of course. but you don’t have to love it.

patrick picks you up. he doesn’t like how short your dress is but you lie to him, saying you don’t have anything else to change into. what’s wrong with the dress? doing that little wobble of your lip that makes patrick say fine, just wear it. and one glimpse of his watch makes him realize you’re running late.

you’re being difficult. complaining about the restaurant: patrick didn’t pick it up annoyed about having to wear heels—it’s only for an hour or two.

patrick grips the steering wheel and ticks his jaw, shaking his head. you’re getting on his fucking nerves. you let your dress ride up at dinner; you drink way too many glasses of wine. you lean on patrick’s boss and laugh in his ear and flirt with the interns that were invited as an afterthought.

and the final straw is your eye rolling. how you look annoyed with everything he’s saying to his superiors. as if you being there with him is the worst chore you’ve ever had to do. and it’s not—you just don’t feel appreciated. you miss his attention and you don’t know when his fucking job suddenly became his top priority. because now he isn’t taking you out as much and you haven’t had sex in weeks.

patrick grabs your wrist after you say your goodbyes.

“ow!” you try to yank it away, and patrick lets you, not wanting people to get the wrong idea.

but he doesn’t talk to you the whole way home. he sits in bed and watches tv. doesn’t say a word to you. so you huff and take a shower.

and halfway through, you hear the door unlatch. patrick comes in and opens the curtain. he’s still in his nice suit, his tie long gone. instead, his collar is partially unbuttoned, his hair lightly mussed. but you’re a specimen he’s looking down upon. completely naked, you stare up at your boyfriend. he throws a towel at you.

“dry off. turn the shower off.”

you nod. you haven’t even shampooed your hair yet but you listen to him, wrapping yourself in the towel and stepping out. he yanks it off you.

“get on the bed.”

you do, and you’re embarrassed, by the way he’s staring at you. like you fucked something up. maybe you did. patrick sits behind you, leaning against the headboard. he pulls you back into him.

he cups your tits and tweaks your nipples between his fingers before letting them trail down your torso. you’re still wet from the shower, and now you’re wet from his touch. you lean into him further, soaking his shirt.

he massages your inner thighs, letting his palms run over the smooth skin, his fingers gripping near your pussy but not quite close enough to grant you any relief.

you whimper, reaching your arms behind you to pull him closer.

“you’re gonna wait.”

he says it because he knows how impatient you are. how much you don’t deserve what you want.

your cunt is throbbing and your clit is swollen but patrick won’t touch it, won’t coo in your ear about how pretty and tight and wet you are, won’t furiously rub your clit until your legs clamp up and you’re digging your nails into his thigh. he won’t fuck you, he won’t even unbutton his shirt any more than it is right now.

“you’re gonna wait and i’m not going to fucking touch you until you’re crying.” patrick tilts your head back so you can see him, even if just barely. “and i don’t care how much you beg for my dick you’re not fucking getting it.” he squeezes your cheeks so you can’t do anything but nod. agree to his terms, because you don’t get any.

and he stays true to his word. even though you can feel his cock twitching against the small of your back, he won’t take it out and he won’t fuck you. he doesn’t even plunge his fingers inside you until you’re crying for him, until his thumb swipes your cheek to feel real tears.

“please—i’m so sorry please ill do anything—“ and your chest heaves as you begin to sob but he doesn’t say anything. just pushes two fingers into your pussy, rubbing your clit with his other hand. listens to your broken sobs meld with mewls of pleasure as your hips jerk up to meet his touch.

[cheese-water]

Charlie is right.

Bolas Rojos won today. They got their revenge after yesterday’s beating. They’ve proven themselves as real competitors. They have literally won the battle today.

But they themselves have orchestrated the war.

Peace is no longer an option. All bridges have been burned for the red team. Any sympathy or pity from the other groups was gone as soon as they cemented first place. And even worse, there were many witnesses to their carnage. Primarily ElQuackity on green, who faced them head-on (so much for blaming the base raid on Bad), but Pol and Tina on blue saw those same chat messages. Like Charlie said, in situations like these, people will never forget. These are how grudges are formed, how small decisions lead to larger repercussions, and how consequences end up mattering after all is said and done.

The Bolas can’t go back now. They’ve made their bed of destruction and warfare, and now they have to lie in it. While the actions of the others may have led them down this path, do not get me wrong. They were not backed into a corner. There are many opportunities to do something different. For instance, the trader village or going full-on cult mode were genuinely viable options. Due to the lack of players on today and the players that were online’s motivation for the competition visibly waning, the red team could have easily isolated them each and indoctrinated them into the group.

To be honest, the Reds’ resistance to joining general vc only furthered their “us against the world” and “peace was never an option” mentality. Disregarding everything pre-purgatory, the only person who actually has positive relationships with the others is Foolish, who made an effort to interact outside of the team (1v1 with Étoiles, chatting with Tina and BBH, etc.). Unlike his teammates, Foolish really has set himself up well for the future, be it for trading, secret alliances, or if, for whatever reason, teams switch. And in games like these, that's how you gain credibility; that’s how you end up being pitied; that's how you survive.

And today, guess who won in that regard? The team in last place, SoulFire. Which thank god they did, because steamrolling the competition two days in a row is how you get majorly targeted. Their lack of progress (which was definitely unintentional lmao), the gen vc basically being BadBoyHalo’s “apology” tour for a bit (which again, very unintentionally focused the blame off of the six kills from their equally bloodthirsty leader), but most importantly, keeping Étoiles, the skilled and need I mention literal leader of the enemy team, company when his team was gone has more impact than even they might not realize. I mean, talk about damage control lol. Like going into Day 3, my bets on who’s group will form an alliance first are solely on green and blue.

Anyway, I am happy not only about the Reds getting the win they rightly deserve but also about the fact that they are aware of what they are doing. The moves they have and will make are purposeful, self-aware of their own “let’s all be peaceful” hypocrisy.

On Day 1, Blue and Green got to be the bad guys.

On Day 2, Charlie can’t help but question his own morality while doing the same terrible things that sent him down this spiral to ElQuackity tonight.

But I guess it's the burden that first place has to bear. I’m sure they’ll all get used to it eventually :)

[midnight-mourning]

DCA Promptober Day 23: Duality

This got so longgggg AHHH-

sigh, more for you all to enjoy I suppose, and I hope you do!

Word count: 1248

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

"Where are you Little Star?" A gravelly voice calls out, and you press further into your hiding spot, "It's past your bedtime~"

Moon chuckles and it sends a shiver down your spine. 

You don't understand what's going on. You don't know why this is happening. You just want it to all be a bad dream and you'll wake up and everything will be fine and-

"Hidey-hide, hide away~" 

You hold your breath, he's mere feet from you now. You can't move, you'll never make it if you tried. You have to be patient. You have to wait. 

If you'd known this was going to happen. You would have never came in. Would have ran in the opposite direction, really. You had no signs, no indications there was something seriously wrong. Especially not after the last time. Which had been several weeks ago now, you realize.

"Ready for another night of good books and good company?" You ask, waving the book in your hand at the naptime attendant. 

He chuckles, "I don't see any good company around."

"Jerk, if you’re not careful I'll spoil this one for you," You warn. 

Moon's arms wrap around you as he lifts you both into the air to head to your destination, "You wouldn't."

"I would."

You land in your usual spot, the platform just outside his and Sun’s room. As you take a seat your curiosity gets the better of you and you twist and nod towards the closed curtains.

"You know, I’ve never actually gotten to take a look around in there. What are you two hiding?"

Moon freezes, but only for a moment, you might’ve just imagined it, "Nothing important. I assure you."

"It’s your room, of course it’s important," You tease, but open your book and turn around, "But I get it, I respect your privacy. You’re probably just secretly messy and don’t want to admit to it, huh?"

"Some, something like that."

You see out of the corner of your eye that he’s fidgeting, hands tapping against each other and he’s looking away from you. It makes you slightly concerned. Sun, he fidgets constantly, full of energy and desires to express it in any way he can. But Moon, nothing of the sort. Not that you minded either, but it made it very clear to you that something may be going on.

You hesitate, then shake your head and set your hand on his pant leg. He jumps, turning to look down to you.

You try to minimize the frown on your face, "Is everything alright?"

"Of course, why wouldn’t it be?" He interlocks his fingers with your own. 

Another way he was different than Sun. His counterpart preferred bigger gestures, bear hugs, elaborate high fives, smatterings of kisses-if he thought he could get by with it-and so on. For Moon, softer moments like this always seemed to be enough. 

You shrug, looking at your entwined hands then back to him, "You just seem worried about something I guess. And I guess," You look to the side, "That worries me, you know?"

No response at first, then, you feel your hand being lifted and pressed against cool plastic. 

Glancing up, you find Moon is kissing your hand, then pressing your palm to his cheek, "It's appreciated, but I pr-I mean it when I say everything's okay."

"If you say so," You sigh, then smile, "Alright you goofy bot, let's get to reading then, yeah?"

He laughed then, and hearing him laugh now, as he hovers just above your hiding spot, it nearly shocks you just as it did when he first tried to swing at you earlier. The contrast of it, the, duality. How could such a caring, sweet, animatronic become this?

It's right then, as Moon's claws screech into the top of the tube, that you remember something else that was dual. Someone else that could end this nightmare for you.

Moon growls, then launches off into the rest of the Daycare. He must not have seen you. You need to plan, and then move quick. 

Holding your breath, you slowly emerge from the play tube, body aching from the uncomfortable position. Staying crouched, you scan and find that Moon's over by the ball pit. Now's your chance.

You creep down to level ground, stepping silently onto the play mats as you sneak your way across the room to the light switch. You glance back every few seconds to keep an eye on the attendant. Only a little further, across the open gap, you glance back-

There's a party popper sound as you walk into the stack of boxes. Moon instantly whips in your direction. You stare at each other for a moment, you almost hope there's still a chance he won't come after you. 

But you're not waiting to find out. 

You spin and run in the direction of the light switch, slamming your fist into it when you make it. You turn around with a sigh and fall back against the wall as the lights come on. You look up briefly and jump when you see that Moon had been mere feet from you. 

But standing in his place now is Sun. 

Your shoulders collapse with relief, "Sun, thank goodness. I-I, I have no idea what's going on with Moon. He, I think he tried to-" You feel tears well up, the gravity of this all finally getting to you now that you're safe, "I think he was to kill me."

Your hand comes up, covering your mouth as the tears flow freely. You take a shaky breath, then another. Then finally stand up, and before you can stop yourself hug the playtime attendant. 

"I, I was so scared. I didn't, I just don't understand," You whisper, shaking your head, "I don't understand."

You sniffle a few more times, calming down a bit. You realize that Sun's not hugging you back.

You pull away slightly, arms still around him, "Sun?"

He's just staring down at you, rays spinning every few seconds. 

You swallow, then take a step back, moving further away from him until there's a decent distant between the two of you now. Finding yourself now more inside the daycare than you may have liked.

At this he seems to finally acknowledge you fully. And when he chuckles, it makes your heart sink.

"Oh Starlight, you thought turning on the lights would help?" He puts a hand to his chest, tone dripping with falsified concern, "Did you think I was going to save you? Sweep you off your feet and give you a happily ever after?"

You take a step backward, then another, then, you trip on something and fall backwards. Looking behind you, you see it was what-used to be-a stack of boxes. This is the worst possible time to be so clumsy.

Or maybe not.

Sun seems annoyed at your mistake, incredibly so, "Oh, now look what you've done. Clean up, clean up!"

He swiftly moves past you, stacking the boxes slowly and methodically as he mutters to himself.

You take the chance to run, heading off through the exit, knocking over another stack for good measure along the way. 

Sun calls after you, you don't know what it was but based on the laugh that accompanied the words you're guessing nothing good. 

You're only shot now was to make a break for the entrance, and hope you make it. 

Before one or the other of the Attendants catches you.

Or both.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

mmmm virus DCA my beloved.... Ahem, ANYWHO, if you enjoyed this please feel free to check out my other promptober responses here. Thank you for reading!!

[jenniferjareauwife]

Hiii !

Love your fics with JJ !

Do you think you could write a fic JJxfem reader, where JJ met reader and realises she’s falling in love, they get into a relationship but JJ has too much internalised homophobia. She hides the relationship to the BAU and reader is doubting everything and thinks it’s her fault.

Your call to decide if it’s happy ending or not.

Thank you !

Just Asking

pairing: jennifer jareau x fem reader

category: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

word count: 742

summary: jj is coming to terms with her sexuality and slowly falling in love with you

JJ and I sat on the conference room, looking over old files. I had told her I was gonna be staying late tonight and she offered to stay with me, to keep me company and to help. It was really calm for the first hour until she broke the silence. "Y/n?"

"Yeah?" I looked up from my files, giving her my full attention.

"How did you know you were..." She trailed off, tapping her fingers against the table anxiously. "How did you know you were attracted to women?"

"Well...I was 15 and I realized that I felt the way for my best friend the way she felt for her boyfriend." I put my files down completely.

"Oh."

"Why'd you ask?"

"Just asking." She went back to looking at my files and my heart sank. I knew her relationship with her mom and I knew how religious her mom was. I didn't want to press her any further but I had a pretty good idea at what she was going through right now.

"Hey."

"Hm?"

"You can always talk to me...you know that right?"

"Yeah...I know."

We didn't talk for a few months after that and it hurt. I had never told anyone but I had been in love with her from the moment I saw her.

I was sitting at my desk, spinning around in my chair. It was 7pm and everyone had left around 2 hours ago. I was just about to get up to leave but then I heard the doors to the bullpen open. I saw that it was JJ and offered her a small smile. "Y/n." She stopped in her tracks. "I um...I need to talk to you."

"About what?" There had to be something wrong. She hadn't talked to me for 3 months and now she needed to.

"I...you remember when I asked you about how you knew that you were attracted to women?"

"Yeah." She took a few apprehensive steps towards me. "What's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"M-my mom found out."

"Oh JJ...Jayje I'm sorry." I immediately put everything down. "Do you need anything? A hug?"

"Yeah...I'll take a hug." I wrapped my arms around her tight, rubbing her back. "She doesn't get it."

"She doesn't have to."

"But I don't get it either. I don't understand why...how I haven't figured it out earlier, you know?" She started crying so I held her tighter. "But now...I really like this girl and it won't go away."

"I'm sorry to say it Jayje...but the feelings not going to go away, you know? It's not something that you can change. You're gonna have to learn to love yourself." I whispered, my heart dropping when I realized she liked someone else.

"How'd you do it?"

"It took a while." I admitted. "I had to have a lot of therapy and reassurance from my former partners."

"I don't have anyone to talk about it with though."

"You can talk to me."

A few more months go by and she didn't talk to me until she stopped me as I was leaving. I wanted to go home after a long case but I bumped into her while walking out of the bullpen. "Y/n."

"JJ." She hesitantly put her hands on my elbows, I couldn't tell if it was intentional or if she was just surprised to see me.

"Y/n..." She said again, trailing off this time. "I...I love you." Her voice was quiet but she corrected herself, saying it louder this time. "I love you. I want you to know that. Because I don't know when I'm going to have the confidence or feel the insecurity to say it another time. So...do...do whatever you want with that information but...I am very much in love with you-" I cut her off with a kiss, a passionate one.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for that." I whispered.

"You have?" She looked flustered, her cheeks a deep red.

"Of course." I caressed her cheeks. "Have you seen yourself?" She blushed even deeper.

"Y-you love me?"

"More than anything." I rested my forehead against hers, practically feeling her body melt into mine.

We just stood there for a second, relaxing against each other and living the moment. She was the first to pull away, tucking my hair behind my ears and leaning in for another kiss. "I love you."

"I love you too."

[urangelsiren]

The Benefits of Pretty Priviledge

While many try to convince us that things such as pretty privilege aren't real and don't have any actual benefits, in the society we live in today that is far from the truth. As someone who is considered conventionally "unattractive" to society, I have seen time and time again the ways pretty privilege has benefitted any and everyone that may or may not be conscious of having it. Here are a few things that I've noticed it consist of:

People will automatically treat you way better than if your ugly. It's sad but it's the truth and unfourtanetly people will just be nicer to things that are overall visually more pleasing.

You're valued way more when you're pretty. Is it considered a bit superficial and vain...well yes. After all some of those tik toks aren't lying when they say "the downside of being pretty is that you're always lusted over, never loved" and they aren't entirely wrong. When you're pretty you're automatically seen as some form of sex symbol in some way.

Doors will open much easier for you than if you're ugly. Now yes im aware hardwork is important too but think of a company that's trying to market itself as the most high end company there is. Do you really think they're gonna put just anybody on the advertisements? 9/10 that woman with the long hair and clear skin with a fit body and manicured nails is definitely getting hired before you and that's even if they have any skills. (But if you're pretty with a BRAIN that's a bonus but probably the most dangerous combo ever..I'll make a post on this later)

You will in fact be the center of attention. Your name will be said in places before you even walk in the door. This is because when you're pretty, many and I do mean many will most definitely make assumptions about you. Now whether they're good or bad doesn't matter because at the end of the day, not many would actually say it to your face to begin with (the bad stuff anyway) and second you will realize how insecure a lot of people are when it comes to you through their projection simply because they've already made an assumption about you before even getting to know you. But it's your own beauty that influences that.

People will automatically assume you're confident. You know the saying fake it til you make it? Yea..I've met some very pretty people in my life and just like any other human being they have insecurities of their own you wouldn't even imagine they'd be insecure about. However no one could think something like that because well..you're pretty.

While I don't wanna make this male centered...yall know them movie scenes where a pretty girl bats her little eyelashes and suddenly guys are running to pay for her stuff, be used as a rug for a wet puddle, etc. Some of those aren't exaggeration at all. You would be surprised what someone will do for a pretty girl. I literally saw a tik tok of a girl who got out of being with the cops deadass because she had pretty feet...like literally the cop was slipping over his words and blushing like?? Yea so when you look good be prepared cuz the better you look the further lengths people will go for u.

You will attract people in higher positions. Now this is the part where if you're pretty, boundaries and standards are highly important because if you're pretty you will definitely attract anyone and that includes some people who will put on a facade but are actually terrible asf and dusty. However, when u play cards right you will definitely attract someone like a CEO or millionaire or you'll just attract really good connections and may have better chances at networking.

You have a better chance of being protected vs if you're ugly. Put the guns down but that is a very harsh truth, some people will in fact choose that pretty girl over you in a life or death situation. When you're pretty people can tend to get a little stupid and coo coo for coco puffs. They're not thinking about the situation in itself but more so being known as the person who saved the pretty girl (it sounds far fetched but it really is true).

[lilyletham]

Heart-Shaped Box

hiiiii! I finally finished my long-awaited sequel to 'A friend on Thanksgiving'! I may have gone a little overboard with it, though. This has not been beta'd and I've gone over it a few times for errors but if there's any stragglers, all mistakes are my own. Happy Valentine's Day <333 Words: 1.6k Pairing: Jacob Palmer(Crazy, Stupid Love) x reader - wording is very gender-neutral, total reader insert Content description/warnings: Inebriation from alcohol, angst, vomiting, some mild fluff

Over time, the two of you grew into a casual and relaxed friendship. There was sometimes a slight fluttering under the surface, perhaps an echo or a whisper of something more, but neither one of you ever acted on it, as it seemed to disappear just as quickly as it surfaced. Jacob came off especially distant in the days approaching Valentine's Day. While he's had plenty of temporary company in his bed on that holiday in the past, it didn't soothe the lingering loneliness forming at the center of his chest when he thought about it.

You were surprised then when he declined your invitation on the 14th to hang out, watch cheesy movies and eat takeout. It was practically a weekend ritual with him at this point. He mentioned he had a date and promised to make it up to you later. Without much further thought about it, you left him to enjoy the night while you curled up on your couch and browsed Netflix. You binged-watched an entire corny B-movie trilogy before your eyes started to get heavy and your belly was full of snacks. You checked your phone, 1:44am.

You wrapped your fleece blanket around yourself and closed your eyes. Just as you started to drift off you're startled by a shuffling sound approaching your door and the jiggling of your doorknob. You also heard…singing? Very off-tune singing. You got up and checked the window and sure enough, Jacob was wobbling in front of your door, singing Heart-Shaped Box by Nirvana(or attempting to anyway), trying to insert his house key and confused as to why it didn't work; every other lyric of his song replaced with a mumbled 'fuck' and 'goddamn lock'. He must've thought he was at his house. It would almost be adorable if not for the fact that you really didn't want him to destroy your door attempting to jam his key in.

You opened the door and he very nearly stumbled forward onto the ground, as he was leaning on it with his key in his hand. He looked at you bewildered.

"What…wait…what are you doing here?" He slurred, eyes glossy and unfocused.

"Jacob, this is my house. You're at the wrong door." You replied, trying very hard not to laugh at him.

He squinted his eyes tightly and tried to focus his vision, looking around the outside of your yard and then inside your front door. "Are you sure?" He looked down at his house key and the change in perspective caused him to sway, and he gripped the door frame tightly to keep himself from falling down.

You held onto his arm to keep him steady and he absolutely reeked of alcohol. He was much more intoxicated than you realized, and that was going to be a problem. He could barely stand on his own, so you draped an around around him and reluctantly took him into your house, closing the door behind you. You peeled off his white jacket and the both of you hobbled to the couch. He felt like a rag doll as you plopped him down on the cushions, and he landed with an 'Oof' and a very un-serious giggle.

"What happened to your date?" You huffed, recovering from dragging a drunk grown-ass man across your living room.

He laughed loudly, the sound unable to contain its bitter tone. "I s'got ghoshted…at s-thuh barrr…" His words were mushed together and mumbled. "Shtupid…"

Ouch. Ghosted on Valentine's Day? That's harsh. You leaned over him laying there, his eyes staring up at the ceiling, and then you saw it. His face went lax, his complexion paled and he started to heave. Oh, oh no. You rushed to your kitchen to grab your garbage can and flung off the lid, bringing it to him, thanking your lucky stars you replaced it earlier. He unceremoniously rolled over on his side, grabbed the trashcan and violently emptied his stomach contents into it. You winced from how bad he was coughing and gagging and spitting. After a few more unproductive retches, he groaned and put the can down, laying back on the couch with his arm over his eyes. He seemed too embarrassed to look at you.

"Are you okay?" You asked as you got up to get him a glass of water, returning to him swiftly. He gratefully drained the glass and handed it back to you.

It seemed the puking helped to sober him up slightly as his response was much more coherent, "I'm sorry I'm such a f-fucking loser." He pushed out, his voice cracked from a combination of his forceful heaving and his emotions. His eyes were already watering from throwing up, but you watched as they welled up again, threatening to spill over.

"Aw, no, you're not a loser. The person who ghosted you is a loser." You reassured him, and he looked up at you with upturned brows, like he's unsure if you really mean it or if you're just being nice. You sensed his insecurity and put your hand on his shoulder. "I mean it, really. It's their loss. You're a great person Jacob, I want you to know that."

He choked back a sob and reached out to hug you, and despite him smelling like a minibar, you wrapped your arms around him and let him rest his head on the crook of your shoulder. The fluttering feeling returned in your stomach, and you tried hard to ignore it, pushing it down. After a few more seconds of sniffling, he brought his head up to look into your eyes, searching. You wondered if he too felt the same feeling just now.

"I should have just stayed here with you." He said softly. You weren't sure if it was simply a statement or a confession of some sort. When he leaned toward you, you had your answer. His eyes looked full of hope and yearning, and you very nearly let him close the gap when his eyes went wide and he quickly turned his head, heaving into the trashcan once again. You're reminded of where you are and the moment passes. You rubbed his back in soothing circles while he rode out his nausea, head buried in the can between his legs. Poor guy.

When his vomiting subsided you got him more water, some Pepto and encouraged him to relax and lay down on the couch to rest. By the time you replaced the garbage bag in the trashcan, he was completely asleep, snoring softly. You wondered if he would remember anything about tonight, or if he even really meant to do what he did. You couldn't help but sleep out in your living room on your lounge chair because you wanted to keep an eye on him. After you've determined he's probably going to stay asleep, you do the same, trying to relax and get even a few hours of rest from this chaotic Valentine's night.

It was late morning when your eyes finally opened. Your back was stiff from the awkward position on the lounge chair and then you remembered what transpired the night before. You noticed that Jacob was nowhere to be found, and his jacket was no longer hanging from the coat rack on the wall near your door. He must have left while you were asleep. There was a little part of you that missed him even though you just spent the previous night watching him cry and puke in equal measure. Thoughts swirled in your head about whether or not he remembered trying to kiss you, but you figured it would be for the best to not even bring it up. Alcohol can do a lot of things to people, especially someone freshly heartbroken and vulnerable.

You got up to start your day as usual, debating whether or not to get some discounted Valentine's candy for your stash. As midday rolled around you heard a knock at your door. When you opened it, you were met with a lovely bouquet of flowers. Jacob peered around the colorful arrangement in his hand to sheepishly greet you. He looked tired and definitely hung over, but he thankfully had time to shower, change and brush his teeth.

"Hi. I'm sorry about being a drunk idiot last night and puking." He chuckled. So he did remember that part.

You smiled and took the flowers. "You're fine. All's forgiven. How do you feel?" You don't know why you even asked, he looked like shit and both of you knew it.

He humored you and grinned. "Like my head got thrown in a cement mixer. Do you have any Tylenol?"

You knew damn well he probably had painkillers at home but you let him in anyway, gesturing to follow, and he smiled. You told him where it was in your medicine cabinet and as he fetched the pills for himself you put the flowers in an empty vase. When he returned you watched him casually move about your kitchen, navigating your space comfortably as he filled a glass with water and took the pain reliever. It was as if he felt at home with you. You weren't sure why you hadn't noticed it before. Perhaps you just weren't paying attention. You locked eyes with him and you realize it-- he remembered everything. There were those butterflies again.

A beat passed, and then another. He tentatively approached you, setting down the glass on the counter and resting his hand on your waist. Slowly, he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. It was feather-light, experimental. When you kissed him back, wrapping your arms around him, all apprehension in his mind dissolved.

[seramilla]

So in Sera contracted to Carmilla AU. Sera is eventually starting to notice the obvious flirting from Carmilla but right as she's about to realize it and respond but her religious guilt and trauma kicks in just in time to stop her. Clearly it's her sinful mind making her see what's not there and it's sinful and wrong to assume her boss who has been very helpful and kind to is like her and even if she's in hell she shouldn't give in to temptation. Poor Carmilla still has more work to do if she wants to get rid of that guilt and repression.

Sera begins to notice the "special" way Carmilla acts around her right away. She shouldn't be surprised - Carmilla had taken a liking to her rather quickly, and even offered her a contract at an unbelievable pay grade, compared to what she'd been doing to make ends meet here in Hell before.

Carmilla keeps things between them (mostly) professional. During the day, Sera keeps the overlord's affairs and schedule in order, helps the cogs of Carmine Enterprises spin smoothly, and corresponds with other overlords when Carmilla doesn't have the time.

After work, however, Carmilla isn't shy about asking her to stay for dinner. Keeping her late, chatting about mundane things, both related and unrelated to work, and letting Sera see a side of her none of the other employees get to see. Like when she leans across the seat they're sharing after Carmilla's opened one of her favorite vintage wines. Like the way Carmilla's looking at her lips, eyelashes brushing the tops of her cheeks, as she stares at Sera's face intently.

It's obvious Carmilla wants to kiss her. Sera wants to kiss her back. The nature of their relationship, overlord and contract, is so fraught. She shouldn't feel this way, and yet, she does. It feels forbidden, somehow, and wrong, but that only adds to the appeal. Carmilla leans in closer, until their mouths are barely brushing. Sera takes a deep breath, closes her eyes tight, and Carmilla swoops in for the kill.

Carmilla's lips are softer than they look. She just peppers light kisses around Sera's mouth at first, tentatively, curiously. The scent of steel and lilac brushes against Sera's nose. When Sera doesn't protest, Carmilla's almost polite kisses become a tad hungrier. She introduces her tongue, and wow, her mouth and the wine taste sweet, and that makes Sera's head spin. She shouldn't be surprised the overlord is this good at kissing...considering how many souls she's probably been with over the years...

That's right. This is a contractual relationship. Carmilla is her boss, but not only that, she owns her soul. She's shown more kindness to Sera than anyone ever has, whether on Earth or in Hell. But still, there is something so unnatural, so sinful about kissing the woman who could rend her soul apart with a word.

The temptation is strong. Which ones aren't, in this place? She wants to give in to...whatever this feeling is. It feels divine. But Sera can't stop the nagging thought in the back of her mind.

When Carmilla starts to lean in further, to try and move herself above Sera, to have a better position to deepen the kiss, Sera pulls away with a gasp. She averts her gaze, blushing profusely. She silently hopes Carmilla doesn't scold her.

"I’m sorry," Sera says, still trying to catch her breath, and hesitating to look back over at the other woman. She's afraid at how Carmilla will react. "I...I can't do this now."

Carmilla looks disappointed; crushed, even. But she doesn't scold or punish Sera, like any other overlord would. Thank Satan for that. She just moves back to her side of the couch, fills herself another glass of wine, and chugs it all back in one gulp.

"I"m sorry, Carmilla." Sera tries to justify herself again. "I'm not trying to--I'm not ready to--Maybe--"

"You're not obligated to do anything," Carmilla says, that stern and stoic expression she always wears at work adorning her face once again. "While I do...enjoy your company very much, the feeling doesn't have to be mutual."

"It is!" Sera says, frantically trying to over-correct for some huge misunderstanding. "This is all just so confusing, and overwhelming. I'm still trying to understand what's happened to me, and how to move on from...everything."

Carmilla looks over at her. Her face is filled with so much concern, but also understanding, which Sera appreciates.

"Give it time," Carmilla says, before re-corking the wine bottle and standing, as if to leave. "Things down here are difficult. But a life can be made, if you let it."

Then, before walking out of the room, Carmilla turns back around to say, "Lock up before you leave."

Sera nods. She watches Carmilla close the door, and then she's alone in that big, fancy office, all by herself. She sighs dejectedly. Will she ever get over herself? Sera does as Carmilla says, and locks all the doors and turns off all the lights, before heading home.

[gyusimp]

꧁•⊹٭𝙰𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝙰𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗٭⊹•꧂

°• No reader content, just a sad Kenji One-shot i had on mind since a long ago | No warnings | Kenji's social issues

He was the new guy on the team. After spending a considerable amount of time finally feeling comfortable among a group of people he worked with, he was feeling just as much of an outcast as he had in elementary school when he had just arrived in Los Angeles.

His walls wouldn't come down in front of the cameras, his proud and smug facade of the best player alive would remain up in every press conference he attended, although in reality, this change was still difficult to handle despite it having been a month since the Yomiuri Giants had welcomed a world-renowned star like him. Still, everything was difficult.

Not the games or baseball itself, in which he was an expert and adapted at a fairly quick pace to the strategies and way of playing of the team and its other members, knowing how to obey very well what his coach had to tell him and without him knowing it, the older man felt very satisfied with the new acquisition of the team. Kenji may have had many strengths, such as being a heartthrob in front of the cameras, fluency in speaking in long interviews, discipline in each of his training sessions, but when he had to face any situation that involved the social sphere, that was when he felt somewhat more insecure. But obviously, he would never let it be known.

Perhaps it was all those changes in his childhood that broke something in his social skills, the bullying of being a foreign child and the constant school changes because of it, so he probably never felt stable enough to have friends. Close friends of course, there were very kind children with whom he related and got along very well, but when changing schools or finishing the school year, he simply forgot about them and did not get in touch again. He did it without bad intentions, and perhaps even without realizing it and thought it was nothing out of the ordinary, but now being an adult, he has analyzed and asked several times if that is the root of his little problem.

He doesn't remember how difficult it was to adapt to the Dodgers. The team was amazing and he felt so alive playing there, but he preferred not to remember that because it frustrated him a lot how everything had been ruined and not being able to return. He kept protecting himself under his smiling and cocky facade, trusting that he was the best with his skills on the stadium when what he really gained was feeling more distant, noticing that the distant attitude among his teammates was reciprocal. Did they think he didn't see the annoyed gestures when his name was announced amid the shocked screams of the crowd when it was his turn to bat? He called them jealous. Did he forget how he noticed the other Giants talking to an absent boy at a training session but no one was bothered when he didn't show up one day?

Little by little he was "integrating" over time, but still feeling a void between him and all the people around him, as if he would never become someone capable of being so important to others but at the same time he ended up avoiding any contact. Was it due to lack of confidence? He didn't know what the hell was wrong with him because the moment he saw his other teammates talking in groups inside the locker room and wishing to have at least 1 friend, the next he was already rejecting the invitation to go drink some beers after a long training session, inventing a generic excuse that in the end only ended up pushing him further away.

Why was he so stubborn? So indecisive?

And like every day he ended up in his large, luxurious and empty house, so far away from others as to be located on his own personal island, where his only company was the sound of the sea and the robotic voice of his assistant. Another direct blow to the stomach that reminded him over and over again how alone he was and maybe how alone he would always be and perhaps that in this way he would die with that loneliness.