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#there’s just so much I love about these arcs
forlix · 1 day
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𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞・b.c.
— incurable playboy turned doting boyfriend was a character development arc nobody saw coming for christopher bang, including (especially) his frat brothers.
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words・2.8k pairing・frat president!chris x gn!reader genres・fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, college!au, fuckboy!chris, boys being boys, kissing, implied sex so mdni warnings・substance use, talk of past heartbreak
a/n・here is "nobody believes you're dating" w/chan, requested by none other than my @rachalixie for my 2k event !! anny, i hope u love this fic as much as i love u; thank you for allowing me to write something so self-indulgent <3
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In the deafening throes of one of Phi Mu Alpha’s spring kickbacks, Minho finds Jeongin and Seungmin standing in motionless silence by the kitchen counter. Both boys are gaping at something with an intensity that dips egregiously into the realm of creepy.
He moves to pour himself a shot. “What the fuck are you people looking at?”
Seungmin prods a pointer finger in the relevant direction. It takes a few seconds of scanning the scene for Minho to find what he’s referring to. He digs a knuckle into his eye, instantly confused by what he’s seeing. Maybe the gaping is justified.
The windows and doors have all been thrown open to invite the balmy April weather into the foyer of the frathouse. There’s a large crowd of people huddled around a long, foldable table stationed before the stairs; Jaehyun clutches a ping-pong ball between his fingers, singular eye squinted shut as he takes aim. The number of remaining solo cups dwindles rapidly, as does the players’ sobriety.
Something—someone—is missing.
Not to say “beer pong virtuoso” was one of the reasons Chris was elected frat president, but you’d think the guy had a career path in basketball with how he’s given the entire Greek life community alcohol poisoning by courtesy of two or three plastic balls alone. Minho has never known him to miss a shot, let alone miss out on a game.
Today, however, the reigning champion is only spectating, seated above the ongoing match on one of the steps of the main staircase.
A beautiful stranger is sitting beside him, cheek pressed to his shoulder as you peer at the match through the bannister.
You say something inaudible. The laugh it earns from Chris is bright enough to pick up from a few streets down. He leans in to murmur something in return, and you slide your hand over his nape to pull his mouth onto yours, light blush crawling up and over your ears. The way Chris melts into you can only be described as familiar, his eyes slowly fluttering shut, finger hooking delicately beneath your chin, grin going lopsided as your lips part—
“That’s enough,” Minho hisses, tearing his eyes away with considerable effort. “Aren’t you ashamed? Just fucking ogling.”
Jeongin shakes his head, grinning. “It’s dinner and a show. We’d be idiots not to.”
By dinner, he must mean the gallon of chocolate milk he’s been drinking from for the last hour. He now holds out said gallon with the intent to cheers. Seungmin picks up the entire handle and does the same.
Minho sighs, clinks his glass against theirs, and they throw back their respective refreshments in unison.
“Anywho.” Jeongin swipes the back of his hand over his mouth before going on. “You guys know who that is?”
Minho resurfaces with a wince, relishing in the bitter aftermath, then motions for Seungmin to give the bottle back straightaway. He arrived to the function late and he’s not nearly as drunk as he’d like to be.
Seungmin obliges Minho only after another heady swig. “No clue. Probably just another fling, no?”
“Mmm,” Jeongin hums in assent. “It’s Chris we’re talking about, after all.”
"Agreed. Case closed.”
There’s an air of finality in Seungmin’s voice—but Minho isn’t so sure.
Perhaps because he has never noticed that Chris had dimples until now; or because you fold so naturally into Chris' side after your kiss ends, head nuzzling against the crook of his neck and hand seeking out his to hold in your lap; or, most likely, because Chris' eyes seem to return to you when he looks at you, as if his gaze drifting anywhere else is but a momentary departure from where it really belongs. As if he comes home every time you come into his line of vision.
Whatever the reason, the idea coalesces in Minho’s mind, even as inebriation begins to fall over his cognitive faculties like a curtain, that the boys have got it wrong.
Jeongin utters his name, jolting him out of his trance. There’s another shot lifted halfway to Minho’s lips that hasn’t budged in minutes. “Whatcha thinking about?”
Minho looks at Jeongin first, Seungmin next, then back at Chris and his stunning companion. He’s not inclined to answer the question in full, but he can in truth. A coy smile crosses his face.
“Threesome?”
Jeongin laughs hard enough to collapse onto the kitchen island. Seungmin drags a hand down his face. “Come on, man.”
In the corner of his eye, you’ve gone back to kissing again, slow and sweet and secretive. Chris' gentle hold on your jaw shields you from view but fails to hide his lovesick smile. Dimly, Minho thinks that maybe his friend has met his match.
Then, he takes four shots in rapid succession—and stops thinking altogether.
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Christopher Bang’s love life is like a horror movie and romcom spliced together: a fiasco of a film to which his housemates have front row seats.
The frat’s upperclassmen live in sets of four-bed, two-bath suites comprising a small common space with a kitchen and a sitting area, sandwiched by bedrooms on either side. It is in that common space that Changbin, Hyunjin, and Jisung often see or hear Chris stumbling home after a night out, entangled with a different attractive stranger every time—so often, in fact, that they’ve come to believe that he’s deathly allergic to anything bigger than a one-and-done hookup.
They can’t judge. In part because they’d be throwing stones from glass houses, but also because the man’s penchant for empty physicality is far from unfounded. His past self gave pieces of his heart to the wrong people, contracted first-degree burns from the guileless warmth he sought out. Now, his version of “intimacy” is less a connotation of closeness than it is a self-contradiction, for it should be impossible for so much distance to remain between two people in a single bed.
Chris hasn’t vocalized any of this. Nor have his housemates discussed it with each other. The knowledge simply exists in the air between the four of them like something akin to taboo, dipping in and out of acknowledgement depending on the circumstance.
This might be the circumstance of all time.
At around 11:40 A.M. on a Saturday, three doors in the suite open at once. Hyunjin and Changbin aren’t coincidence—the latter is coercing the former to go to the gym again—but they lift their eyes to the opposite side of the living room, and the slice of milk bread dangling from Hyunjin’s lips very nearly takes a fatal fall. Changbin manages to snatch it up with an extended hand.
Chris has just emerged from his room as well. Your silhouette follows close behind, your mouth stretching into a yawn as you massage the sleep from your eyes. You’re sporting a mesh green sweater identical to one Chris owns. They find Chris' accessories more interesting than his clothes, though: two hickeys peeking out from beneath his jaw and the base of his neck.
Chris sees Hyunjin and Changbin right away, and his expression goes utterly blank, not unlike their faces as they watch you close his door meticulously. You turn around and gasp.
The four of you stare at each other for what feels like multiple business days. At least, Hyunjin, Changbin, and Chris stare at each other; your eyes dart between the men on the other side of the room and the man next to you, silently pleading for him to say something. He does not for a long while.
Then, he lunges for one of the throw pillows on the couch and flings it at Hyunjin like a shot put. It ricochets off his chest and lands on the floor rather anticlimactically.
“Distraction!” Chris yells anyways, grabbing your hand and tearing towards the exit, wild grin on his face. “Go, go, go!”
Your raucous laughter lingers even after you’ve been hauled away, accompanied by an unintelligible, breathless shout of something along the lines of my toothbrush—and then the front door clicks shut, and there are two.
Changbin and Hyunjin lock eyes, struggling to process what just happened. Hyunjin is the first to move, wandering hesitantly into the bathroom that Chris and Jisung share. Nothing about the place looks out of the ordinary.
“Well, shit,” Hyunjin says out loud.
Aside from the two toothbrushes slotted in the holder on Chris' side of the counter, that is.
Something moves in the bathroom window, catching his attention. Hyunjin looks over just in time to spot you and Chris dart out onto the lawn two floors below. Chris has his arm draped over your shoulders, yours wrapped around his waist. Your smile is discernible all the way from here, and Hyunjin sees a perfect mirror of it on his friend’s face when Chris glances at the frathouse over his shoulder. 
Has he always had dimples?
Moments later, Changbin joins him in peering out the window. A high-pitched cackle erupts from the older boy’s lips. “Look at that idiot.”
Standing off to the left is a tiny, astonished Han Jisung, his arms full of groceries, jaw sitting squarely the grass and whites of his eyes on full display as he watches you and Chris stroll away.
Hyunjin laughs with his whole fucking body. Changbin whips out his phone and takes a picture.
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When you finally breach the topic, it’s because you don’t think you can physically study for another minute—but also because, after multiple long months of fruitless sparring, your curiosity finally wins.
Your boyfriend is seated in your desk chair, feet kicked up onto your mattress with his laptop propped up on his thighs. His features have rearranged themselves into an expression of intense focus. You can hear the music blaring through his headphones from all the way here.
You uncross your legs from below you, scootch across your bed, and lift your hands to cradle his cheeks. He starts as if jolted out of a trance, then starts to smile when he reads the words hi, Channie off your lips.
His headphones fall around his neck. He sets his laptop down onto your desk with a dull thunk. The next thing to drop is you when Chris seizes you by the waist and tackles you into the mattress. The somber atmosphere of your study session is shattered by your muted laughter and Chris pressing his lips to every inch of your exposed skin he can. He saves your mouth for last.
“Hey, beautiful,” he answers after kissing the living daylights out of you, the syllables soft and silky with adoration. “Missed me?”
The room’s dim lightning sets your boyfriend aglow. You drag your eyes from his brown irises with blown pupils to his sloping nose, from his disheveled dark locks to his cordate lips, so plush and warm against your own that you swear you still feel them there. 
“Always,” you say, brushing a hand over the back of his neck, your head now spinning so badly you can barely remember what you wanted to ask him. “I was starting to feel jealous of your homework.”
He chuckles. “Shit, I’ll drop out of college right now, baby. Just say the word.”
“You’re perfect,” you hum, nudging the tip of your nose against his.
“Says you.”
Your lips find his again—needless to say, your study sessions aren’t known for their productivity—and a lot of time passes before you come up for air. Even afterwards, Chris doesn’t let you go far, pulling you into his chest by the curve of your waist, nuzzling his cheek into your hairline. You only need to murmur for him to hear your question.
“Can I ask you something?”
“'Course,” he returns, and you’re close enough to sense him tighten with apprehension. “Everything okay?”
“Yes. Don’t worry.” You print a kiss to the side of his neck for extra reassurance. “It’s just…I’ve been meaning to ask how your friends feel about me.”
He tightens with something else now: surprise, you’re guessing, hoping. You hadn’t seriously considered that the answer could be negative, but it’s dawning on you now that the possibility of that isn’t zero.
“Where’s this coming from?” Chris inquires, his tone opaque.
You hesitate, mentally reviewing your interactions with your boyfriend’s social circle. Hyunjin and Jisung can’t make eye contact with you when they speak to you. Minho does nothing but make eye contact with you whether he’s speaking to you or not. Jeongin and Seungmin can maintain small talk for about ten seconds before they start looking like they would rather be anywhere else. Changbin is the only one you’ve held a conversation with, and only because you were going up the same stairs at the same time and the alternative would have been mind-numbing silence.
What is the best way for you to say this?
“Well,” you begin, “I can’t help but notice that they act a little—when I’m around, they’re a bit, uh—”
“—crazy,” Chris offers. “Completely fucking bat-shit crazy.”
“Yes. Exactly that.”
Chris threads a hand through your hair, the comforting gesture doing nothing to assuage your worry. It seems there’s some truth behind your impressions. Your next words are tinged with a quiet sadness.
“I’m not imagining things, then?”
“No, angel,” he sighs. “But not for the reasons you think.”
A beat passes. Chris perceives your silence as a chance to backtrack, to opt out of this conversation if it’s one he’s not ready for. He would’ve leapt at the opportunity once.
But he realizes in that moment, with your voice gentle against his ears and your touch so doting upon his skin, how much has changed since he met you: from the color of the sky to the word home and everything in between, including his cynicism towards love and all the iterations of forever it holds. 
With that epiphany comes another, then another: he wants you to know why his friends are acting insane, wants you to know about him and his past and all the wounds of his you never know you healed, wants you to spend the rest of this forever with him.
His pointer finger dusts beneath your chin, a wordless request for you to look at him, and he nearly liquifies when you do and he finds entire constellations in your eyes. 
“It’s a lot,” he mumbles, though he suspects you know that already; he suspects you know about the other stuff, too. 
You bring your hand to the side of his face, bring your forehead to rest upon his. Your closeness washes over him like a low summer tide lapping over sandy shores, a soothing balm spreading over scorched flesh. 
“It’s you,” you whisper. “I will love it just the same.”
Chris' held breath comes out in shudders.
So this is warmth.
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Minho and Felix are watching anime on the couch when a knock comes at their door, unfortunately during a pivotal moment of a pivotal episode. 
Minho hits pause with a ghastly groan. Felix laughs and rises to his feet, dashing into his room to grab the two silver necklaces he’ll be loaning out for the evening. “Coming!”
Outside, Chris is standing alone, hips and thighs accentuated by a pair of tight-fitting dress pants, sculpted chest and collarbones framed by a thin, cream-colored shirt with the top three buttons undone. Most of his hair has been pushed off his forehead, leaving a few locks free to fall over his right eyebrow. He’s rolling up his sleeves when Felix opens the door, veined forearms flexing as a result of the effort.
“Well?” He asks. Minho cranes his neck to look past Felix.
Both boys start to holler and whistle like excited macaques.
“What in the Calvin Klein is this?” Felix shouts, spinning Chris around by the shoulders. “You look insane, bro. Holy fuck.”
“What’s the occasion, young man?” Minho inadvertently sounds like a gruff uncle. “Where are you going dressed like that, huh?”
Chris' laugh comes easier nowadays. What’s more, it comes in a way that reaches the rest of him, that ends in a tiny, high squeak that you really have to look for in order to hear. Felix and Minho can't help but replicate his smile. Those clothes look good on him, yes, but happiness looks even better.
“You guys are silly,” Chris giggles. Dimples indent his cheeks as he accepts the necklaces from Felix. “Thanks, man. I’ll give ‘em back tomorrow.”
“No rush,” Felix replies, grinning. “Have fun, yeah?”
“We will.” Chris starts to retreat down the hallway, hands moving to clasp the jewelry around his neck, but not before he blows the both of them a kiss.
“Be back before ten!” Minho hollers; Chris laughs again, turns a corner, and disappears.
Felix closes the door. His smile falters fast. Minho has brought his face mere centimeters away, his expression thoroughly humorless.
“Tell me only the truth, Lee Yongbok,” he deadpans.
“O-okay—”
“Is Chris in a relationship?”
“—oh.” Felix frowns. “Well, yeah.”
Minho blanches. “How—how long?”
“One year, give or take? Anniversary’s today.”
Minho is stunned. Felix is stunned that Minho is stunned.
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© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡
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andavs · 2 days
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I really wish Buck’s big arc last season had been the leadership thing that they started out with. The sperm donor and death arcs didn’t really go anywhere or change anything for him, when a leadership arc could’ve led to a lot of tangible growth.
It started off great, with Buck getting pissy about not being interim captain. It showed exactly why he shouldn’t be captain anytime soon: he acts on emotions first and logic second, especially when he perceives something to be a personal judgment against him. That isn’t the person you want leading a team, and Mr “I cannot handle anyone else getting hurt” is clearly not someone who’s comfortable sending other people into danger, which is part of being a captain.
But then it got completely dropped until the finale, which…didn’t really tie into leadership anyway. He just ran around saving everyone himself. He wasn't actually leading anyone or doing any kind of real, on scene coordinating like a captain would—Maddie did more of that than he did.
This arc could've continued all season in the background and involved the whole team, with Bobby giving Buck opportunities to take point and give him feedback. Chim could’ve talked about why he didn’t like being captain, Eddie could’ve talked about his experience as a staff sergeant in the military, Bobby’s early years as a captain, he could’ve talked to Hen who was chosen as interim captain. 
If he’d gotten actual, tangible feedback from the people around him, he could’ve gone through so much conscious development and growth that would affect every part of his life. He could’ve worked on taking a second before reacting to a situation to think it through, which is something that has repeatedly gotten him into trouble. He could’ve learned how hard it is to send the people you love and care about into danger, especially when one of those people disobeys orders and goes off half-cocked.
If we'd seen him spend all season learning that and then in the end he took command, actually acted as the IC, and coordinated with other houses to save his team, that would've felt more like an actual arc that impacted him, his life, and how he functions on the job.
Maybe he could’ve overlooked something that another captain caught to really drive home that he isn’t ready yet, but he would still have that knowledge and experience to use in the future, even if he isn’t captain anytime soon. We could see him coordinating or helping out where necessary. He could be Hen’s 2IC when she’s the captain. He could use those skills to problem solve in all areas and see the bigger picture, something he’s always struggled with.
I’m just annoyed that what could’ve been a great season backbone and a vehicle for the growth and maturity that Buck keeps missing got ignored for sperm donation and a death arc that didn’t lead to anything.
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dixons-sunshine · 1 day
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I'm not even gonna put this as anon like I usually do with requests because I just can't be bothered to- Could you do Daryl making a stressed out reader slow down because she's running herself ragged and needs some downtime? Fluffy all the way.
Reader really is me right now lol
Spa Day | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader
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*GIF isn't mine.*
Summary: With the walls needing to be rebuilt, runs needing to be made and crops needing to be planted, it was safe to say that you were at your wit's end. However, things needed to get done, causing you to get overstressed. Luckily Daryl was there to help you slow down and relax.
Genre: Fluff.
Era: Alexandria, pre Saviour arc.
Warnings: Mentions of exhaustion.
Word count: 1.6k.
A/n: My migraine finally subsided enough for me to focus on finishing this. This was a really cute idea and I hope I did it justice. I hope you like this! (Forgot to tag you in this 😅 I was so tired when I posted this. @celtic-crossbow)
➳༻❀✿❀༺➳
The scorching afternoon sun was relentlessly beating down on the people of Alexandria. The inhabitants of the safe zone were restlessly working to fortify the fallen walls to ensure that the community remained impenetrable from the the dead wanting to find their next meals.
However, none of them were working themselves to the bone quite like you were. And Daryl was starting to get fed up with your antics.
Daryl grumbled to himself in frustration as he leaned on the car he was busy fixing up, watching as you walked past him in a hurry for the hundredth time that day, occupied with yet another task that somebody else probably could've handled on their own. However, with you being you, he knew that you offered to take someone's job for them so that they could relax and get out of the blazing summer sun, all at your own expense. Everyone else was enjoying their day while you ran around like a headless chicken.
Your caring, helpful and selfless nature was something that the archer loved about you. Despite the horrors in the world, of everything you've seen and experienced, you managed to clutch on to your humanity and keep it locked safely in your being, like a vault. However, on that particular day, he wished so badly that you'd just be selfish and take the day to slow down and unwind, maybe get some much deserved sleep. You were awake even earlier than he was lately, and went to bed way later than almost everyone, so he knew there was no way you were going to last if you kept this up. It seemed to him like it would be his duty to pull you away and force you into your home to relax.
He's officially had enough of your stubbornness. You were going to relax, whether he had to drag you home or not.
He hurried after you, calling your name. You stopped when you heard his voice, turning around to look at your partner. You sent him a smile and called back to him. “Can't talk right now! I have to go help Denise restock the infirmary!”
You turned around and started to stalk off towards the infirmary, but you were stopped in your tracks when Daryl grabbed your wrist and spun you around. You looked up at him in surprise, observing the determined look the archer had in his eyes.
“Daryl, what—”
“Nah, ya ain't goin' nowhere,” he told you matter-of-factly, moving his hand from your arm to hold your hand in his. He looked to the side and saw Aaron walking somewhere with Eric. “Hey, Aaron, Eric! Would ya mind helpin' Denise with restockin' the infirmary? She can't do it alone.”
Aaron smiled and nodded. “Sure! We were just heading that way anyways.”
Before you could start to protest, Daryl started pulling you with him, leading you towards the house. That didn't stop you from trying to resist, however. The need to help everyone, even if they didn't need it, ran deep in you, and you hated that your responsibility was now pushed onto someone else.
“Daryl, what are you doing?” you questioned, sending your partner an incredulous look. “I should be helping Denise. Aaron and Eric were relaxing today. They shouldn't have to tire themselves out.”
“And neither should ya,” Daryl stated, pushing inside your small home and closing the door behind you. “Dun' think I haven't noticed ya overworkin' yerself. Takin' on extra guard duty, workin' day and nigh' to fortify the walls and helpin' Maggie with the crops when she has 'nough people helpin' her already. Yer outta here earlier and earlier each day and gettin' home later each nigh'. Ya deserve to relax, too. And I dun' wanna hear any complaints.”
You couldn't help the smile that spread over your face. Your heart swelled with love for the man before you. Never before in your life had you been with a man quite as amazing as Daryl. None of your previous partners would even have realized that you were working yourself down to the bone. You were extremely lucky to have the archer in your life.
“Okay, Mr Dixon,” you started playfully, sending him a teasing smile. “What do you want me to do first on this relaxation journey you seem to have planned for me?”
Daryl breathed a sigh of relief. “Go take a shower and get changed into somethin' more comfortable. I'll get started on makin' us somethin' to eat.”
Following his instructions, you headed up the stairs. A few minutes later, Daryl could hear the shower turn on and he inwardly celebrated his victory. You were actually listening to him. You were actually going to relax for the first time in weeks. If he had known that him voicing his concern would get you to start slowing down, he would've done it a while ago.
Working like a man on a mission, he quickly grabbed some pillows and blankets from one of the cupboards and made a comfortable place for you to relax on the couch before moving to the kitchen. Grabbing a few things he needed from the cupboards, he made good on his promise and started preparing a simple snack for the both of you—some omelettes.
In no time at all, you were done in the shower. You got dressed in a pair of freshly washed flannel pants and one of Daryl's shirts and made your way down to the kitchen. However, the sight that met you had you stilling in your tracks—Daryl was busy dishing up the omelettes, a glass of wine for each of you next to the plates.
“Well, this is a sight I could get used to,” you voiced, making the archer turn to face you, pan still in his hand.
He shot you a small smile before handing you a glass of wine, ushering you out of the kitchen. “Go on and get settled on the couch. I'll be right there.”
Accepting the glass of wine, you nodded and headed to the living room, pleasantly surprised to see the blankets and pillows set up on the couch. You did as you were instructed and sat down on the couch, covering your legs and lap with one of the blankets. You were slowly sipping on your wine, waiting for Daryl to join you.
As if being summoned by your mere thoughts, Daryl appeared in the living room, balancing two plates in his hands. He placed one of the plates in your lap before placing his own on the coffee table, moving to grab something from his bag that was resting near the fire place. When he turned around, you audibly gasped in surprise at the object in his hand, placing your glass of wine and plate on the table.
“Where'd you get nail polish?” you questioned excitedly, sitting up straighter to allow Daryl to sit next to you.
“Rosita found some on a run a few days ago,” he explained, sitting down on the couch and gently taking one of your hands. “She didn't like this colour and asked me to give it to ya. I forgot 'bout it until now. Figured I'd paint yer nails and turn this day into a spa day of sorts.”
You smiled fondly at the archer, watching as he placed your hand flat on his leg and opened up the bottle. “You know you don't have to do this, right?”
“I want to,” he replied easily, carefully applying the nail polish to your nails. “Ya've been overworkin' yerself lately. Jus' let me take care of ya, alrigh'?”
“Okay,” you whispered.
The next few minutes was spent in a comfortable silence. Daryl was surprisingly good at applying the nail polish, making little to no mistakes whatsoever. In no time at all, your nails were done, and Daryl motioned for you to turn around. You did so, and practically moaned in relief when Daryl's hands started gently massaging your shoulders. His hands were expertly working at the knots that had formed on your shoulders, transferring you to a state of bliss.
“That feels really good,” you mumbled, closing your eyes at the heavenly feeling.
“Yeah?” Daryl smiled, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to your shoulder blade before resuming his actions. “Told ya tha' ya were overworkin' yerself. Ya deserve this.”
You let out a groan of satisfaction, enjoying the feeling of Daryl's big, callused hands working at the painful knots. You were in heaven at that moment. Not only did Daryl make you food, he poured you a glass of wine, made you a comfortable spot on the couch, painted your nails and now he was giving you a massage. You truly believed that no man could ever compare to the man you had the lucky privilege of calling yours.
“I love you,” you whispered almost inaudibly, but loud enough for Daryl to catch.
Daryl smiled softly. “I love ya too,” he replied, pressing another gentle kiss to your shoulder blade before withdrawing. “Now lay flat on yer stomach. S'time to get workin' on yer back now.”
“Yes, sir,” you replied playfully, slowly flipping over to lay on your stomach.
“Good girl.”
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evergreenfields · 2 days
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In Another Life
Hurt, no comfort, angst, I’m ready to break my own heart.
Your flatmate is dating Soap and he’s everything you want.
Pairing: Soap x your female flatmate, one sided female reader x Soap, Captain Price x reader.
CW: MDNI! low self esteem, character death (spoiler, not explicit), catcalling, voyeurism, masturbation, PIV sex.
A/n: I hella projected lol. Reader is broken.
——
Soap is dating your flatmate.
Most men that your flatmate brought home were wet wipes, but this guy was some kind of special forces. His eyes were electric blue and he had the thickest eyelashes, he went by Johnny but he also went by Soap, you never learned why. You had to mentally pinch yourself while staring at him, he was everything you wanted in a partner. You hated the creamy mess in your underwear when you were in his company.
He was muscled and shaped like an upside down triangle, you had to look away when he would pop out from their room in the night. Muttering “sorry ‘scuse me” as you squeeze past the narrow corridor, ignoring the rumble of his “no no, I’m taking up all the room, lass.”
You caught his thighs and bulge in his compression shorts when he left for a run in the morning. Later, your flatmate traipsed into the kitchen muttering “I can hardly walk after last night, let alone run!”
You laugh and slap her arm playfully as you leave the room. You’re an expert at that now. That’s not to say you were never happy for her, but your phone was currently not blowing up with your latest dating app matches.
——
On the off chance Soap arrived when you were coming out of the shower, he only ever looked at your eyes and quickly got out of your way. He only had eyes for your flatmate. You got to your room and stood in front of the mirror and wondered what your flatmate and other women had that you didn’t.
——
Soap was full of energy, ready for a laugh but very protective. You would listen from your room when he dropped her off late at night after a raucous night out on the town.
“Call me tomorrow, alright?” His voice is muffled.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Just call me when you wake up. You look like you need a lie in tomorrow. I’ll bring you breakfast.”
Tomorrow morning comes and Soap is early with a bag of food from a brunch spot nearby, he even brought you a coffee too. You thank him too much, maybe it wasn’t the coffee you were thanking him for.
——
Your flatmate and Soap came home late one night absolutely drunk out of their minds, they wobbled through the front door trying to dance to a song playing on his phone. They see you and it’s like they have heart eyes.
“Y/n, it’s y/n, THE GOAT!” Your roommate yells.
“The GOAT!” Soap hollers.
They both flop into the sofa either side of you. They’re too drunk to notice your teary eyes. You pushed the soggy tissue into your sleeve.
A dance tune starts up and before you can even recognise it, Soap bounces up with hands held out towards you both.
Your roommate grabs one hand.
You’re next.
You take Soap’s hand and you arc off the sofa, he’s strong.
You’re pressed up against his side. He’s hard, large and warm, you try not to enjoy the bodily contact as you all boogie to the song. You start to smile until you remember he isn’t yours.
——
“It’s only 2 days but I’m so excited,” she talks about her friend’s wedding in the south of France, “I’m wearing this dress” she flicks through her phone gallery “and Johnny is going to wear a kilt!” Muscled calves, big smile and rugged hands clasped at his front, Johnny looked like a million bucks.
“I love it, you’ll match!” You managed to squeeze out. You imagine the memories they’ll make and photos they’ll take. That night you have a 2nd date, you are excited by the fact he has asked you out again. It filled you with something resembling happiness.
You are meant to meet at a station out of town but you couldn’t find him at the small station and the path towards the car park was unlit and dodgy. When your date found you, he was annoyed that he had to pay for parking. He kept throwing red flags at you.
But still you slept with him because you wanted to feel touched and desired. You regretted it and then you had to take the train home later that night because he “had an early start to work tomorrow.” You wrapped your jacket around yourself to keep out some of the cold, trying not to be annoyed that he didn’t even attempt to make you orgasm or show any aftercare. You delete his number from your phone.
Later that weekend, the duo arrived home.
“We bought you back some chocolate!” Your flatmate says, Johnny swings his bag off his back, he passes it to you with 2 hands like it's a bar of gold. It could have been, with the way you looked at it.
“Aww guys you didn’t have to.” Your mouth is dry.
“Johnny found it, I didn’t know you were a sea salt and caramel fan!”
You put the chocolate in a drawer because you didn’t want to get used to tastes you couldn’t indulge in.
——
“He’s a prick, forget about him.” Your flatmate says pointedly about a new guy you were dating.
“Oi who’s a prick?” Soap walks into the kitchen, taking your flatmate’s waist in his hand.
“No one-” you turn away.
“A fuck boy that y/n isn’t seeing any more.” Your flat mate sounds proud by what wasn’t her decision.
“He isn’t a fuck boy.” You know you’ll regret clarifying the point, “we didn’t fuck, so he’s not. He’s just a prick.” You and the conversation. Soap whistles.
Later that night when you’re washing the dishes, Soap approaches you.
“Listen, forget about that guy,” he says low, you’d follow that voice anywhere.
“Thanks.” You squeak quietly.
“You will find what you're looking for, keep pushing and you’ll look back on this shite with a smile, maybe a misty eye, ey?” He bends forward to catch your eyes as you were trying to avoid them.
He smiles, you smile. He leaves, you remain.
The suds disappear and you turn off the tap, left in silence.
That night, they have muted sex, you hear their attempts at muffling moans and stifling strained grunts. You hear the bed frame squeak on the last hardest thrusts, then silence for a while. You imagine they feel warm, tingly and flushed, chests heaving. Eventually you hear footsteps come and go from the bathroom, the toilet flush going and the door shuts again. You wait for your heart rate to stabilise and your heart ache to subside.
——
“We’re going to the pub, wanna join us? Johnny’s friends are going to be there.” Your flatmate asks you.
You wonder if they’re as hot, funny and protective. You tell yourself you’re just going along for a chat, but part of you hopes it leads to something more; you put the hopeless in hopeless romantic. Put yourself out there, that’s what everyone says.
You wear a nice outfit that makes you feel pretty, your confidence isn’t abundant but you’re feeling yourself.
You arrive at the pub, you meet them, you chat, you drink, you leave.
Nothing about the evening was bad, his team were really nice, all huge and charming in their own ways. Their Captain was a greyhound with an intense gaze that seemed to follow you. Gaz’s girlfriend arrived and you thought you heard some rumblings about Ghost being pushed to date.
The Captain was receptive to you, leaning in to listen, you thought you saw him glance at your lips and legs. He helped you off the tall stool you were sitting on, taking you by your waist to help you down. You know not to push, men hated when women pushed. Well, they hated when you pushed. And you didn’t want to make anything awkward between you and your flatmate. So you left without asking for his phone number or a date, but he hugged you tightly and held your gaze for longer than you thought usual.
When all three of you got home, your flatmate shouted at the top of her lungs “you and the Captain huh?! Practically undressing each other with your eyes!” You laugh and immediately feel your ears going red. You were stoked that someone else noticed because you thought it was all in your head, as it usually was.
You didn’t notice Soap put a hand out to stop her.
“Babe. Babe-” he says “don’t go there.”
Your heart tightens. Your flatmate puts her hands on her hips, confused and a little offended as if to say ‘I know what I saw.’
“It ain’t like that, the Captain is… Price is… Look, he’s married to the job.” Brows knitted, the jovial spirit replaced with seriousness, “we don’t sit around and talk about it but he ain’t the type to mess around.”
You play it off “we were just talking, it’s not a big deal.”
It hurts when Soap says “good, because he’s a lifer.”
You close the door to your bedroom and mull Soap’s words in your tormented mind. The fuzziness you felt replaced by emptiness.
Part of you willed it to be wrong, that you were the woman to pull the Captain out of his self fulfilling and self imposed prophecy. You almost laughed at your audacity.
“I can’t even get a text back, why would he be interested?” You stare at the ceiling, the alcohol left your system and the room was uncomfortably still.
——
“You like tha’, lass?” you hear Soap rasp, you’re not sure if he’s taking her from behind or if he’s on top of her. The faint slaps, skin on skin, indicate it’s either doggy or the standing position your flatmate had once whispered about. The loud moans indicate it’s good.
You don’t breathe. You just listen.
“Oh god, Johnny please!” Your flatmate whines, the force of his thrusts evident in her stuttering voice.
You close your eyes and see yourself with Soap under you, knees folded under his bulging arms, hips pistoning into you with ferocious need. You argue with yourself but then you quickly surrender and slip your hand into your knickers. You draw tight circles on your clit while your eyes burn with tears unfallen. Undiluted shame and need fills you. You breathe sharply through your nose and then hold your breath, staying as quiet as possible. Both of your hearts raced, thumping against your ribs.
“Tha’s it,” you hear his muffled voice grunt. You imagine his massive hand grasping your breast, your hand follows. Their bed frame groans but yours is silent. Your flatmate’s voice gets higher in pitch and she comes loudly, he grunts, swears, the mattress squeaks. You push two fingers into yourself and quickly find your spongy spot, electricity rolls through you.
You come undone shakily and silently, tears springing immediately from your eyes as you ride the wave of your orgasm. Your hand clasps across your mouth as you try to stem the noise of your sobs. You feel disgusted and disgusting. You wipe your eyes with your sleeves. You check your phone, no text from him. You manage to fall into a restless sleep.
——
One night, you and your flatmate encountered an asshole at the station.
“Nice bit of skirt, that.” He leers at your flatmate.
“Fuck off, you prick!” You shout back without breaking stride, not caring he was bigger than you. This confidence was new to you. Or was it anger?
When you arrived at the music venue, your flatmate told Soap what happened, you couldn’t hear them as the music was loud and you were at the bar. You could see the look of concern and regret on his face. He stormed over to you and he pulled you into a bear hug.
“Thanks for taking care of her,” he says to your temple. He releases you but keeps his arm around your shoulder as you wait at the bar, his weight is comforting and protective. He then helps you carry the drinks over.
He adds “I’m sorry Gaz and Cap couldn’t make it, paperwork.” You’d heard that one before but this time you gave yourself the benefit of believing it.
During the gig was a slow acoustic song that hit a little too close to home so you snuck out to the toilet to wait it out.
But you could still hear the music as you leaned against the stall and picked at your nails, doing breathing exercises you’d read about, through your tears.
——
You began to feel like the only man in your life. You even treated yourself to a massage because the touch deprivation reached a fever pitch.
You scroll through the website trying to find an available masseuse. Their headshots were small but you were on the lookout for a man with a thick neck and prominent traps, you knew the silhouette you were looking for. Your masseuse didn’t have a Mohawk but he was close enough that when you closed your eyes, his hands, his pressure and weight became Johnny’s.
——
You were invited again to a party with the squad, moods were good but there were hints of them being away for an extended mission. While you heeded what Soap said about Price, you wanted to know it from the horse's mouth. You bantered with the Captain, and he bantered back, at first. It turned to flirting and you playfully slapped his bicep, joking that you could drink him under the table, knowing well enough that you couldn’t. You ignored the looks from Gaz and Ghost - it’s like they knew something you didn’t. And they did.
You found yourself outside with Price. He’d asked only you to come outside, you felt giddy at the prospect of him wanting to be alone with you. He was smoking a cigar, you stared at the lit end, hoping it revealed some kind of secret you could finally be privy to.
It was cold outside, bitterly cold.
“You’re a lovely girl, y/n, you’re, smart, pretty, ballsy,” he says, almost to himself. You’re immediately familiar with the tone. What came next would hurt. Your breathing quickens and there’s a pit in your stomach.
“I’m not in a place where I can give you what you want, what you deserve, darlin’.”
The alcohol seemed to dissipate from your system. Rejection was one hell of a way to sober up. You look down at your shoes and chew your lip to stop it from trembling.
You knew better than to beg, to make compromises, to ask for a chance. Nothing would convince him. Maybe another woman could. But not me. So you turned to humour because it was safer than being vulnerable.
With wet eyes and a wobbly voice that you couldn’t hide, you say “so you think I’m pretty?”
He hits you with a look that you’ll never forget.
“In another life-“ he quietly began.
You cut him off, agreeing, “in another life.”
You both went indoors and you summoned a smile from the deepest recesses of your being. You left early that night.
——
It was with bated breath that you left your room ready for your date. You were in a beautiful outfit that did wonders for your confidence. You spun around a few times in the mirror.
Johnny was at the foot of the stairs and he looked at you with his big blue eyes, you’re sure you saw his pupils grow. Your phone buzzed but you ignored it because you enjoyed being under his gaze.
“Look at you! He’s a lucky lad!”
“Wait, let me see!” Your flatmate's voice came from the kitchen.
Your phone buzzed again. You pull it out to see a stream of texts from your date.
“Oh you look gorgeous, girl!” You barely hear your flatmate. Blood rushes to your ears.
You read out the text message.
“Sorry can’t make it, hungover lol.” You sound distant, as if it wasn’t related to you.
“Fucking prick.” Soap says with no hesitation.
“Y/n…. Babe.” Your flatmate pulls you into a hug but you’re limp and embarrassed.
“Fuck it, I’m going out anyway!” You exclaim, pretending to be okay you practically rush out of the door.
The door shuts behind you. You want to cry but you squeeze your eyes shut and start to walk towards the station. You don’t last long, your vision is wet and nose runny. You end up at a riverside cafe, watching the world go by without you. What a shitty year, you tell yourself.
——
You hear a hushed conversation a week before Soap is due to leave for a few weeks. You kept your headphones on and nodded at them when you walked past, giving them privacy.
You wish you could be in someone’s inner circle, but instead you were grateful you could float around theirs. You put a mental reminder in to take your flatmate to dinner while Soap was away and to keep her from watching the news.
——
“Turn it down!” You yell at your flatmate while you go to answer the door, the radio is on blast while you both cook.
Through the peephole you see the unmistakable beard of Captain Price.
“Oh John, hi!” You can’t hide that you’re happy to see him. But then you notice his grave expression.
“Hi love, sorry to come by unannounced,” he’s standing straighter and his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Is your flatmate around?”
“Yeh, come in.” Your stomach drops. You didn’t need to call out, your flatmate is already by the door.
“No,” she recognises the look.
“I’m so sorry, love.” Price says quietly.
“Oh god no!” She cries out and sobs, her entire body shakes.
You put your arms around her but your eyes are on Price, wet and unflinching, waiting for the confirmation of the news.
His blue eyes are overcast and tired, he nods and looks down.
“We’ll have to take you onto base if you wish to go through matters,” Price says quietly. You helped your flatmate get her coat on, understanding that you couldn’t go with her.
Price dropped her home later that night, you plated up some food for her but she couldn’t eat. You hugged each other on the sofa until one of you fell asleep first.
It felt like Soap would be bursting through the door with his infectious energy at any moment, but the silence was deafening.
——
You weren’t invited to the funeral as it was behind closed doors. You didn’t know what to do with yourself, you went from crying to intense panic attacks to bouts of guilt. You missed him, you missed his presence. You thought about the way his eyes would light up when you suggested shots at the pub, how he’d walked you both home and how safe you felt. Sure he wasn’t holding your hand but for a moment, you felt wanted, taken care of and significant. You felt terrible for mourning someone else’s partner so deeply and intimately.
Price came by a few times in the next few months, sometimes you were home, sometimes you weren’t. When your flatmate finally came out of her room, her eyes red and complexion weak, she would walk around the house like an apparition.
“I can’t do this without him!” She would plead, “I miss him so much.” You rubbed her back, silently wiping your tears, telling her you were sorry, over and over.
“John came by today, he sends his best.” She says.
“Bless him,” you say quietly, trying not to read too much into it, because all the meaning you longed for wouldn’t come.
“You never told me what happened with you both that night.” She asks, brows knitted in concern for you while her heart was shattered.
“Soap was right about him.” You said, “and that’s okay.” You breathed, hoping the more you said it the more you would believe it.
——
‘What cannot be said will be wept’ you read the quote over and over, you’d seen it online and it immediately brought Price into your mind.
His visits became less frequent, but he came by again to check in with your flatmate. He looked like he was carrying the world on his shoulders and you wanted nothing more than to pull him into an embrace and comfort him.
“Come in, she just got in the shower, want a tea while you wait?”
It had been 6 months since the news.
“How are you holding up?” Price asked.
“M’okay, trying to be there for her as best I can.”
“I know it isn’t easy for you either.” He said, “you’re doing good by her, you’re a good friend.”
Guilt and shame rushes through your system, you didn’t feel like a good friend.
“He was so good to her-” you start to sob, hands across your mouth, willing it to stay inside so you never have to confront how you really felt about him.
You’re surprised to be suddenly in his embrace. John consumes you, you’re completely surrounded by him. You grip his jacket, afraid to let go. His right hand rubbed your shoulder blades and his left hand held onto your waist tightly.
“I’m sorry love,” he whispered, “and I’m sorry I wasn’t good to you.”
“You don’t have to apologise for anything John, you haven’t done anything wrong.” You sounded throaty.
“I made you believe in something I couldn’t give you.” His voice is quiet, you feel it against his chest.
“In another life,” you manage to sob his phrase back to him, he can feel you inhaling hard, trying to catch your breath.
“Another life.” He says back, kissing your head.
“Take care of yourself, John” you say with a ragged voice looking straight into his eyes. You grab your bag and push past him out of the door. You can still see his sad eyes in your mind.
Immediately you regret leaving while he was still available and present. But then you think if he wanted to say more he’d have done so. Life is choices, he made his choice. And I wasn’t one of them. Your legs take you away from him, into the bitter cold.
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falinmarcille · 1 day
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I mostly see people discuss trans Falin and not enough about how Marcille's character is similar.
Something i don't really see people go into is the fact that as a half elf Marcille goes through struggles a lot of trans and intersex people go through. Marcille is outcasted by the other elves because of small differences which don't really matter.
She can't have a cisheteronormative relationship even if she wasn't sapphic. Plus she spends a lot of her life trying to find ways to fight for equality among all species and different types of people.
Something i really love about her character though is the way that this doesn't actually bother her much. She's satisified with who she is as a person, she doesn't even desire to be made a full elf. She is who she is and she's proud of that she just wants to be accepted and loved
I love Marcille's character so much and i can't wait to see how the anime adapts the rest of the manga and her arc. Especially with her relationship with Falin and other characters.
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a-b-riddle · 2 days
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I really like your poly141 story, great job!! I know u said u like happy endings. I kinda hope that the happy ending is reader alone? Like reader being fulfilled and happy without the boys? They don’t deserve reader!!! Bro you’ve got me heated over these fictional dudes lol. I’m just mad at them for treating reader like shit, unintentionally or not, and only acting different because they know they’ve been shitty. Wait actually isn’t that what people are supposed to? Change their behavior and learn from their mistakes? Do I want a redemption arc or reader being fulfilled alone??? LOL jk it doesn’t matter what I want. And I know whatever way you continue your story is gonna be awesome!! I will eat it up!! And I am a sucker for a happy ending, too 🤭 so I’m looking forward to what u do. Anyway great job, ur such a talented writer!! U should be proud!! 💗
(I’m not pressuring you to end your story a certain way or take it in a certain direction!! I just wanted to let you know that I’m thinking about your story a lot and I like it very much!! Great job!! Much love!!)
I lowkey might just write an AU because a LOT of people want reader to move on. Which I get. Or might write it and leave it open ended so they can decide. I don't like writing endings like that (I am a "and they lived happily ever after" girlie)
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gnomebinary · 2 days
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This is my protocol bingo! (Thank you as always osric.com).
Lena is just doing her evil job - No thoughts, no morals, no alligence. Girlboss.
Nobody ever finds out Jmart's real names - I just think that would be tragic, and fit in with what RQ have been saying about this not being too attached to Archives.
Redemption arc - There was a notable lack of these in Archives even though forgiveness and making a conscious effort to behave morally were important themes in the later seasons. I'm ready for Mr Bonzo to have Kylo Ren's exact redemption arc where he's redeemed mostly through kissing. I don't even care who he kisses.
Froyo trip - It's pretty clear that we're being told that this is Somewhere Else through things like the Archives staff having tea and the OIAR staff having coffee. The s1 Archives gang iconically got icecream, so I'm gunning for a froyo trip, and a Gwen monologue about preservatives.
Colin dies first - He's just so killable. Plus, Celia can't die until they do her reveal and they'll probably want to build up to it, Sam can't die because he's the driving force behind investigation into Magnus, Alice can't die because she kinda makes the whole show, Gwen can't die because she's mid-arc and it is of the type that if left unfinished it would be anticlimactic not tragic, and Lena can't die because the impact would be pretty low.
Nostalgic PC games - I LOVE that RQ appears to be into old tech. I want to see Chester and Norris play Catz 5. Lowfi retro charm.
Dyhard - I go back and forth on this one, it feels too obvious what with the hot drinks imagery workplace annoyances to lovers stuff, but at the same time it does Just Make Sense.
Somebody becomes disabled - In Archives people were injured a lot, but none of that amounted to a long-term physical disability, except for Melanie's blindness. Feels like something to do in Protocol.
Police brutality - Feels like a theme that Jonny still has more to say about, and an incredibly easy one to weave into this kind of story.
Alice is hiding something - I actually think she isn't but y'all are saying it.
Alice naming stuff has consequences - She does it so much and Colin warned her off it, clearly seeming concerned but not explaining why, I think it will have unforeseen and damaging consequences.
Someone has a pet - In Archives, especially in the earlier seasons, everyone was notably unattached. Martin has a mum to take care of, but nobody has partners or children. I think this was partly because it made them easier to manipulate, and partly because it meant that tragedy could be dialled up: Sasha dying was sad, but not as gutwrenching as Daisy dying because Daisy's relationships were more fleshed out because it was later in the series. We're already bucking that trend with Celia's son, so I think we might see a pet too. Also, the pet will probably die.
Alice dies in the last season - Alice is very killable but she's also the heart and soul of the character relationships, so I think they will kill her but they'll wait to do it, and then do it mid-final season as an OOH THEY WENT THERE turning point, like how Tim dying brought in a new, darker era for Archives.
Conclusion that love isn't what makes you human - At London Comicon in October, Alex or Jonny (I forget) said that if Archives was about what makes you a monster, Protocol is about what makes you human. I think it's kinda trite if love is the answer, and I think the conclusion re love will be that monsters can love, because that's cooler. Hell yeah romantic monsterfucking.
Celia evil - I LOVE that we're seeing another Welsh person, but she doesn't sit well with me.
Agnes returns but we don't hear her speak - The tree on the other side of the rift is still alive, and if that universe was this one then that means that Agnes may still be alive. Jonny and Alex have said that they regret not doing more with Agnes, and I don't think they'll miss out on the opportunity to use her again. However, I think the fact that she doesn't speak is central to her tragic character and role as Jon's character foil, and I don't think they'll change that. I actually posted a tiktok about this.
Scene on London public transport - We're already seeing our gang at the pub and on dates, I think we're going to get some tube content.
Jmart fate worse than death - They're going to have us WISHING that they died in mag200.
Fears never treated as separate - I just think we're over that.
Breakup - They're getting the character relationships in early, so I'm predicting an onscreen breakup, because that's one of the few ways that we didn't see relationships between characters going bad in Archives.
Gerry's life gets ruined again - I'm sorry guys but I don't think they're going to let him have peace. He's going to get dragged into the OIAR situation and he's going to suffer.
Alice's brother lives - People are already noting similarities between Alice and Tim, I think that it'll be essentially the same character beat again if her brother dies. Adapt, improvise, overcome, RQ.
Another Michael - Just another character called Michael, unrelated to the four existing Michaels. I wasn't going to put this because Jonny is very aware of the four Michael problem, but this man plagurised his own full legal Christian name, so anything is possible.
Jack is Agnes' Jack - I think it's cool if we all think about how there was actually a massive age gap between Agnes and Jack because she didn't seem to age past her twenties, so he was absolutely a child when she was an adult. Not that I want to have Discourse or anything, that relationship was hecked up and complex in plenty of other ways, just because it's interesting.
Onscreen kiss - They said they wouldn't do it during Archives and then they did and it wasn't that gross, so I'm ready to see it happening again. They might have a relationship between allosexuals this time, I don't think they're going as far as onscreen fucking, but I'm game to be surprised. Insert joke about reusing the whimpering noises from Archives here.
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birdbrainedboy · 2 days
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I’m obsessed with this show and fear a hyperfixation anyways here are my thoughts on every character in the show
Edwin Paine: forever my favorite, even back before the show when I read the comics! I think it’s funny that basically every man in the show wants him? I’m intrigued by his character arc throughout the story regarding his sexuality as despite dying in 1916, he seems to have had time to slowly become more accepting of gay people (I’m guessing in part due to Charles, who is pansexual), to the point where there’s only mild internalized homophobia if at all, which just exhibits itself in him denying any possible feelings for Monty. I love how face-value and logical he is while still being a sweetheart
Charles Rowland: he has a pan flag pin on his jacket which confuses me bc can ghosts only wear clothes they would’ve worn when they were alive, or how do ghost clothes work? Because he died in 1989 and I’m near positive he didn’t wear that pin back there. Anyways I do love him but I wonder about some design choices, like the one earring (not sure why it just kinda annoys me). That was more a rant abt his design than his character, which I have nothing notable to say abt since I LOVE HIM he’s so real
Crystal Palace: sometimes she was a bit annoying the way she was trying way too hard to pry into everyone’s lives, but honestly that was just momentary annoyance since nothing could make me hate her. I love how her past was slowly revealed (as someone who already knew it from the comics) and how she came to terms with the person she used to be vs the person she is now. She’s so cool!
David the demon: honestly kind of caught me off guard at first bc the person I’m dating is named David but I actually enjoyed his character. LOVED when Crystal dealt with him in the end. He was very interesting
Niko Sasaki: I love Niko, but I have some problems with her character. First of all, I feel like ditsy anime-loving cutesy Asian girl with dyed hair is a weirdly common trope? But whatever my main issue is that it feels like characters who normalize the fetishization of gay men are so common. Like if Niko had been a guy obsessed with lesbian manga evb would be weirded out, so why is it different? If we ignore all of this tho I absolutely adore her and I’m actually praying she’s in the next season bc she was one of my favorites (esp her relationship w Edwin)
Jenny: She is so hot and cool and funny I’m in love with her
Esther: oh my god words cannot come close to describing how much I love her character. She felt powerless and weak in the past and now she’s become obsessed with making sure nobody has that power over her ever again. She was so fun and I loved her attitude! I’m sure she won’t show up next season, as she was the main antagonist of s1, and while I love her, I kind of hope she doesn’t since I think her arc was finished.
Monty: His personality was like 2020 “soft boy” who acts nice and dumb but is lowkey a manipulator. So obviously this kind of made me like ☠️ bc why is he acting like that… but I still love him to bits because he’s just a crow guys he didn’t ask to be human,, Anyways yeah his personality annoys me but also I love him so much so? It’s confusing. ITS COMPLICATED. I will cry if he’s not in s2
Kingham and Litty: I honestly thought they were annoying but I can’t lie they were so fucking funny. Every time they were on screen I laughed.
Cat King: oh my god. He is so camp. I love him. There’s honestly not much to say he is simply iconic. Love how he’s afraid to be alone so chases after other people, he’s so real AGHH I love him
Night Nurse: Ruth Connell the woman you are… 😍 she reminds me of Muriel from Good Omens, in a way, and I love her! I really hope we get to see more of her in relation to the guy in the fish, and see her get to better understand human emotions and why they choose to cling onto the human world rather than pass on!
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i-heart-hxh · 24 hours
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During the shinju scene,meleoron mentions theres something killua cant tell him, what is it that killua couldnt tell him?
from what i seen,shinjuu isnt always romantic,was it he couldnt tell meleoron he was going to die w gon because of his romantic feelings
The line
meleoron:‘if you joking,whyd u have that incredibly sad look on ur face(talking about when he was observing killua with gon)’ ‘you cant tell me,so i wont ask’ or in different translations its ‘cant you tell me?’ But in the original japanese its about being unable to tell somebody something
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Hello!
So, I decided to just post (most of) these two pages because I think seeing the art and layout of the actual pages helps with understanding exactly what's going on and also analyzing it. I also went and looked at the pages in Japanese just to see if anything stood out. Aside from the famous shinjuu line, the translation seems fine.
Just to summarize and be clear before I launch into further analysis: In this scene, Killua says (with a rather dark expression) that the worst case scenario is he and Gon die together in a lovers suicide. Killua sees that Meleoron is rather vexed/taken aback/discouraged by this response and doesn't know what to say, so then Killua immediately claims he's just kidding and that they'll be okay after all, and he knows how to snap Gon out of it.
Meleoron then internally doubts that Killua is kidding about this, because he was there when Gon said the "It has nothing to do with you," (essentially) line that pushed Killua away, and he saw how heartbroken Killua looked by that. He then decides it's not worth asking because Killua clearly doesn't want to be honest about his feelings, he can't or won't express what he's going through, so he backs off.
I'm glad you brought this up because it's a piece of the whole shinjuu scene that people don't talk about as much, but this whole exchange and Togashi bothering to show Meleoron's reaction to it in the first place says a lot about the importance of the scene. If Meleoron didn't pause and connect this to Killua's earlier heartbroken moment (and notice how it takes up literally half of the page--it's important!), it would be easy to read on past it without thinking about it more deeply.
In other words, this further exchange with Meleoron is emphasis. It's there so the readers don't simply gloss over what Killua said about the shinjuu, and so the readers understand that he means it, that no matter what he says to the contrary, Killua is in fact serious about this possibility. It's there to slow things down enough so the readers can reflect on and ask their own questions about the situation.
I'm sure this is why Togashi bothered to put Meleoron in the scene with Gon pushing Killua away in the first place--there was no other reason for him to be there, other than being an observer of this moment and standing in to ask these questions.
Meleoron--an outside observer without as much context for Gon and Killua's relationship as the rest of us--wonders what's going on here, why Killua looked utterly destroyed by a few simple words. But because he saw Killua's immediate urge to lie and say it's a joke when he hesitated, he knows Killua won't open up to him about exactly what's going on, why Killua was so devastated by what Gon said to him and why Killua intends to do a teen lovers suicide with his best friend if all goes badly. Meleoron is definitely pointing out (in his view, anyway) that there are feelings behind this that Killua is unable and unwilling to talk about. Is he implying they're romantic feelings? I mean...
This happens so much in Chimera Ant arc around Killua's feelings. Togashi leaves it open-ended, doesn't spell it out blatantly, but it seems like the question is being asked over and over again--what exactly are the nature of Killua's feelings for Gon, anyway? And there keep being these moments where the concept of romantic love is conjured in some form in connection with or around this unspoken question being asked, like multiple instances in the Palm subplot I've talked about a bunch of times now. (Linking to that post in particular because it links to a lot of other Palm subplot related posts.)
Even the way Killua asks if Gon considers him a friend or a comrade, asking What are we? basically is essentially a shoujo trope--and especially how it was presented, very dramatic with a lot of focus and emphasis on Killua's internal turmoil around asking the question.
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There are just so many times in this arc where emphasis gets placed on a question of, What are your feelings for Gon anyway, Killua? in an indirect way, including this moment with Meleoron. It's repeated so many times and there are so many instances where there's some subtext around or even direct mention of romantic love hovering around these questions, it's basically daring the audience to answer.
It's true that shinjuu can be non-romantic in some cases, however the word choice is meaningful. Togashi knows what the implications of it are, especially in a literary sense. He could have chosen other ways to phrase this, he could have opted not to use this word in particular. If it was presented completely in isolation from any other romantic subtext, there would be more of an argument to be had for it just being included in a platonic sense, but with how much repeated romantic subtext there is with Gon and Killua's relationship to begin with...I think the word choice is very intentional.
I hope that answers your question!
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howlingday · 2 days
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Why do you like Nora's Arc?
What a thing to ask. Honestly, I don't think anyone's ever asked me that, either here or elsewhere. But I have gone on the record on multiple occasions and said that Nora's Arc, the ship of Nora Valkyrie and Jaune Arc from RWBY are my OTP, so the question is to be expected.
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Let's start with the basics, which is... They're cute together. I mean, really, look at these two and tell me they don't look like they'd make a cute couple. That boyish smile, that impish grin... Makes me giddy to think about them holding hands.
Something else I like is their how their dynamic just... works, either as friends, as teammates, as lovers. They're kind of like a comedy duo, with Jaune as the straight man and Nora as the slapstick. Nora is the loose cannon and Jaune plays things by the rules, but there's also the other side of these with Nora having so much love and empathy that she's almost crying when Ironwood suggests abandoning Mantle, and Jaune is pulling underhanded tricks like stealing the Atlas bullhead from Argus right under Cordovin's nose.
They're criminals, your honor, but they're good-hearted criminals, like the Cooper Gang. Actually, now that I think about it, they're kinda like the morally inverse version of Partners in Crime, Roman Torchwick and Neopolitan. That's a neat idea.
Of course, it'll never be as big as some of the other ships on these waters, like Lancaster or BMBLB or Hellbirds, but y'know what? I'm fine with that. I'll just keep writing these little fics in my raft and share them when I come back into port.
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souporsaladnatural · 2 days
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Honesty Castiel's arc still feels so incomplete to me. Yes he got to confess to Dean and tell him how good and loved he is, which is huge for him. I don't want to downplay the significance of that and how much it meant to Cas. But what about the fact that he died doing the same thing he's always done by sacrificing himself? What about how he never learned to open up about his problems and to let his family help him because he still didn't want to burden them, which is why no one ever knew about his deal with The Empty? What about how he never really understood and accepted how much he was loved and wanted? I mean admittedly I'm still only in season 13, so I'm sure there's so many details and nuances I'm missing here, but idk. Even outside of reuniting with dean his character growth just doesn't feel done. I mean Dean dying the way he always thought he would, young on a hunt with no chance of a happy ending, is horrible and unsatisfying and I hate it. I don't see why Cas dying how HE always thought he would, happily self sacrificed at the altar of Dean Winchester with no chance of a happy ending, is much better.
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yo mutual i love ur tags fr because like u took the words right of my mouth i was so baffled how ppl would side with one more than the other because the autism pvp felt so real to me that i related to Both of them rlly a lot like. So much so it has cemented itself as rlly one of my fave scenes ever because it was a Step up for growth like that fight made them both better people . and it makes me mad ppl belittle toshiros experiences and like ignore his autism for the sake of pitting two bad bitches against each other Good Lord. The Nuance. There is Nuance. and ppl who ignore it just feels so personal to me as an autistic asian person who's been told that there's no way they're not "normal" like ive not been masking and not even like That well either.
Toshiro to me is like a similar vibe of Autism to Mob aka Shigeo Kageyama MP100 where he represses so much of his true feelings and opinions and emotions that he will just blow up one day (validly!!!) !!! like. let him be autistic in peace. not everything has to be a moral failure and not everything has to revolve around Laios just because hes the main character of Dunmeshi. Like they were both so relatable it hurts me...
not me spelling empathized as emphasized lmao
but yeah anyways I really interpret the shuro and laios conflict as just two autistic people who just don’t mesh naturally? At the very least, it’s a complication between two people with very different cultures.
Both laios and toshiro are people who don’t exactly fit in. On shuro’s side, the source of his ‘otherness’ is a little redirected (is that the word?) because his status and nationality already set him apart on the island, but even back home he was reserved and didn’t socialize well. He struggles to connect with others and has a hard time being sincere!!! the argument between him and laios isn’t an evil neurotypical vs blorbo autistic, it’s conflict-avoidant autistic vs social cue blind autistic!
There isn’t really a right or wrong side here, Shuro tried communicating in the way he knew how, but he and laios just simply don’t understand each other’s languages. Their fight is a reset for the both of them; now they each know a vital fact about each other! Laios knows that Shuro has a hard time verbalizing discomfort, and shuro now knows that Laios needs to be told things to understand them. Now they can both find a middle ground and properly compromise between their two opposites.
and it’s important to note that if laios did know he was making shuro uncomfortable, he would stop as best as he knew how, all the way. This guy takes boundaries seriously, as long as there are clear lines to what those boundaries are. And he’s attentive to other’s needs! (See: him and chilchucks friendship. They understand each other very well, I could write a whole meta on it)
Now that he and shuro are seeing eye to eye, their friendship can now progress in a healthier fashion! This fight isn’t the end of the world. (Honestly having a fist fight is like third base to me but we won’t speak of that) Toshiro isn’t evil, he’s just a really cool foil to Laios, and their disagreement serves to establish important parts of their characters and to progress both their character arcs 👍
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theroundbartable · 1 day
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(sending hugs)
what are your thoughts about aithusa? personally i love her way to much, but she rarely comes up in fandom discourse
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HEY :D Thoughts about AIthusa, huh? I have many of those. Thoughts, I mean. In my brain. They like to swim around and create a whole mess of things sometimes.
I think the reason why Aithusa doesn't come up in fandom discourse often is because there isn't very much to say. Aithusa was born, then color coded as a sign for the golden future of Camelot and was then abandoned by Merlin. Tortured by a crazy guy. Then raised by Morgana and used to create the sword that later killed Arthur. Whenever they come up in fandom discouse, it's mostly about Merlin doing his job as Dragon Lord right or wrong. But you wanted my thoughts, so I'm gonna allow my head to spin weird shit around the ungendered Dragon. (That is why I will use they/them pronouns for Aithusa.) When it comes to Aithusa's name, not the canon translation, I mean what it literally means, it's hard to find, since they used old English for the language of magic, and I think Greek for the language of the Dragon Lords (which doesn't necessarily have to apply to the Dragon names) and I haven't seen anyone make a post about it. All I get from Google translate is "Hey you" in Gaelic and that's a bit useless. Or well, this:
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The automatic language recognition in Google would let me interpret Aithusa as a gift to the world. Or Arthur, depending on your shipping interests. Or, you know, if I could make up the Old English maybe pseudo-parts of the word (the writers were very lazy in BBC Merlin, they are literally quoting Beowulf when Merlin magics the blue ball in the poisoned chalice.). Something fitting I found in my old English dictionary is agan, meaning to possess, and to own, and thus (spelled with a thorn which my keyboard doesn't have) meaning as follows. So, in my absolutely amateurish and interpretational, and way too far reaching ways, I would say Aithusa could mean: A(gan) thus (a): To own the future.
(Again, you asked for my thoughts, this is not canon and probably pointless, I just needed to go down this route first.)
In the fandom wiki, we find THESE informations on Aithusa.
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So, things we do know are very few
Aithusa is a baby
Aithusa was tortured and is therefore crippled
Aithusa cannot talk
Aithusa probably has Stockholm Syndrom because of Morgana
But you know, I think it's very interesting to know that Aithusa is the Light of the Sun, the literal sign for a Golden Future and that very sign can be hurt by a mere human. Not only does this mean that humans can kill Dragons (the Dragon lore doesn't make any sense, I swear to god) but it's also meant to be symbolism. Merlin, just like Arthur, is shown to be his own doom through Aithusa. They are hidden, tortured, kept from living their truth, abandoned by everyone who should be leading and protecting them.
With Aithusa being born it means that at that point, Merlin had already fulfilled his destiny. At this point in time, the golden age is already there and it should have been a sign for Merlin to speak up about his magic. He never did, that's why Aithusa remains mute. And just like magic itself, when harmed or in danger, Aithusa can easily be used for evil.
Apart from the symbolism and their part in Arthur's death, Aithusa doesn't contribute much to the story, I think. Yes, they console Morgana and they are like the continuation of the Dragon lineage, but that's ultimately pointless. Aithusa will be, inevitably, be the last Dragon. Which is honestly really cruel, but again, parallel to Merlin himself. That's where Aithusa's arc ends, unfortuntaley. Personally, knowing all that, I find Aithusa hard to use as the character they are in canon. With what little defines their character, you have to ultimately change everything about them to use them in fun fics and comics and stuff. That's why they end up as a little dog creature so often.
Don't get me wrong, I love Aithusa. But I love FANON Aithusa, just like I prefer fanon Sir Leon over canon Sir Leon. Because fanon Aithusa is like a domesticated chicken that Merlin keeps in his rooms or fights custody over with Morgana while Arthur is either oblivious, supportive, or being gaslit. But maybe I am overlooking a lot of things. So, if any of you like to disagree or add anything to my points, feel free to engage ^^
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jq37 · 2 days
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I assume as another member of the Aelwyn fan club you are also over the moon about her and her FIFTEEN cats moving back into Mordred? Hopefully the cats can get into the secret passages and maybe through the portal to Leviathan to get some air...
First of all, I'm so glad that this is my reputation in the fandom.
Second of all, you know I was absolutely *vibrating* when that moment happened. So much so that I ruined my sleep schedule that night spending two hours writing what was supposed to be a three paragraph post about Aelwyn's arc that turned into a longer than 1K piece of what I'm gonna call meta but is honestly just fanfic lol.
I love everything about this development. I love her being back. I love that Adaine clearly told her friends to cool it on the therapy speak because it was making her uncomfortable. I love that Kristen tried to accommodate her--even though it instantly backfired. I love how Aelwyn right away did the older sibling thing of, "Shh, shh, you're fine you're fine. Don't tell on me," because she was genuinely not trying to hit back as hard as she did. I love that Fig is instantly down to give her a wet willy. I love how much bratty younger sister that whole interaction had. I love that, unlike in the pilot episode where Adaine messed with her and she fired back with a spell, Aelwyn just got all grossed out and annoyed like a normal older sister would. I love the energy of Adaine's found family also to a degree becoming Aelwyn's found family just by proximity. I love that she somehow got five more cats. It's so very domestic and I'm here for it.
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feelingthedisaster · 2 days
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saw someone say some fans give dean sam's arcs and thinking about it, it does happen and kinda sucks bc 1. just like sam instead and 2. as someone who loves dean, you're removing what makes him dean
i dont want a rebellius dean. i want the dean who no matter if he dislikes an order, he will follow it, bc and order is an order and he is a soldier. he likes to act like a he is some cool rebel but at the end of the day, he'll keep his head down and do as he has been told (and the intro personal conflict "i have to do this even if i dont like it" is top tier)
i dont a want a dean who fights john. i want the dean who shouldnt forgive him but does it anyways bc that's his dad. i want the dean who tries so hard to be a mediator when john and sam fight again and again cause someone has to keep the family together.
i dont want the dean who wants to stop hunting. i want the dean who doesnt have a life outside the life, the man you take away hunting and doesnt know who he is because that's what his life has always been and will be, there was never another option so he doesnt exist without it. he cant stop bc he si nothing outside of hunting (edit: early seasons dean, he gets some character develepment)
i dont want a dean who emphatizes with monster bc he feels like one (thats's literally sam character). yeah, he can feel like a monster in the way "i killed so much people, im a monster" but not in the supernatural monster way. he thinks mostly in black and white about supernatural monster-ish stuff, and yeah, with time and all that sam, benny, etc he learns to tolerate supernaturals but emphatizing on how a supernatural-related freak way? hell no. i want the dean who has to deconstructe himself on monsters for the sake of the people he loves and will fuck up (but try)
want those arcs? sam winchester is right there but dont change dean's. he is already an extremely interesting character on his own
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bibibbon · 3 days
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Sukuna is a good villain analysis
Coming from someone who hates villains that are evil because they were born that way and with no other explanation. To be honest, out of all the villains in jjk I always found sukuna to be somewhat boring , he is well written but I just couldn't really see what people saw in him. I still think that kenjaku is way more interesting than him but I will say that due to the recent arc and chapters that my opinion of sukuna has significantly changed.
Sukuna is the abstract embodiment of nihilism (in a way). His character for the longest time has always been about destruction and chaos. Sukuna's first introduction consists of him saying that he is going to destroy absolutely everything and there is a heavy focus on him destroying the woman and children. He simply views then as little maggots that he can easily destroy with ease. We later learn the connection (I guess) he has to his mother which he doesn't regard her disrespectfully and his devoured twin whom he is shown to remember the presence of. Every time we meet him before shibuya his power is further emphasised and he is further demonised and built to be the big bad.
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It is later in shibuya, during his fight with jogo that we get more to sukuna. In this fight sukuna brings out his CT of flames and jogo is surprised however, before sukuna kills jogo they share an interesting conversation. Sukuna recognises jogo's ideology and desires to be human and sukuna relates to it. He understands jogo's desires of taking humans place and ruling the world yet he views that view as foolish. This is where we learn that sukuna believes that being alone and having the power to destroy everything you care about is what makes one powerful. This can explain sukunas love for destruction and simple chaos. However, sukuna is incapable of understanding why he is talking to jogo, why does he even care for him in a way and instead of trying to understand he does exactly what he said to jogo that he should do and destroys/ fully burns jogo after calling him "strong". At this point both of these curses have experienced what it's like to be 'human' with emotions flowing through them that aren't negative but while one (jogo) questions it and tires to explore it the other (sukuna) rejects it and burns it all away.
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There's also sukuna's relationship with his relatives especially itadori his nephew. Sukuna and itadori share completely different ideologies while sukuna believes in him being the strongest and destroying everything he cares for to stay that way yuji will believes that he is a simple cog in a system and tries to do everything to fulfill his role and protect others. Both are strong characters yet it is yujis drive and strong resolve that makes him so much more mentally stronger than sukuna and what irritates sukuna as yuji is claimed to be unbreakable in his views and passion. Yuji also makes sukuna question his own purpose and what he is here to achieve. Even though the two are strangely similar in many ways considering that yuji is a part of sukuna they're vastly different especially with their ideologies.
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There's also the huge contrast between sukuna and his twin Jin itadori. Sukuna is strong, cold hearted and would put himself before anyone. Sukuna doesn't care for others and his existence is mainly him trying to satisfy himself and his needs while flaunting the immense power he carries. Yet from the little we have seen from Jin itadori he is is the polar opposite of sukuna. Jin itadori died for love, he was so blinded by grief that when kaori came back even though it was kenjaku he still loved her the same and he loved itadori more. It was stated that Jin really wanted to have a child and truly cared for itadori to the point he and itadoris grandpa got into fights about it. Jin from the moment we see him seems like a really nice and somewhat nerdy guy the complete opposite to his twin sukuna heck even their character designs are completely different with them only having the same colour hair and eyes (I think).
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These twins are also juxtaposed to the zenin twins. Its stated that sukuna had to eat his twin to survive in the womb due to how poor their mother was. However, the only thing that sukuna got out of his twin was the physical characteristic and his CT while Jin's soul went through cycles before coming into he human realm again. This contrasts with eh zenin twins whom voluntary chose to join together and when she died Mai chose to take all the CE they both had while dying physically she joined her sister spiritually by becoming a sword. Maki and Mai will always be together and entwined by their souls. The sukuna and jin twins are only connected physically which could be why sukuna has 4 eyes and 4arms.
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Sukunas own character design just shows that he is the embodiment of destruction and how he simply devours everything around him. When asked if sukuna ever feels lonely he literally says that he lives however he wants and that he can eat as much human flesh with all of them tasting different and filling him with different emotions. The closest thing that sukuna has to a friend is his loyal servant urauame and they only obey his orders while entertaining him. It's stated that the only reason sukuna keeps urauame around is due to their talent in cooking human meat, the same thing that gives him joy aka any real emotion.
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There are then his other fights that focus on sukuna and his views on love and power. Yorozu's fight is an interesting one where we get more on sukunas cannibalism and how both of those characters view love as a means of destruction and death. Yorozu is happy that sukuna killed her and got to know more about her through that while sukuna is questioned on stuff that he views as pointless and meaningless like marriage. Yorozu sees the solitude that sukuna is surrounded by and think that he can understand her since she has faced similar yet they heavily clash with sukuna believing that to have power one must face the burden of solitude. In the end yorozu, does give sukuna a gift crafted by her which he actually takes and uses during the current battle. Yorozu's attempts to get to sukuna and to make him reciprocate his love all fail even when she makes a TRUE SPHERE. Something that has the largest surface area and can contaminate and touch everything yet sukuna leaves untouched by yorozu at all. I think it's interesting that yorozu's heart took a shape of a true sphere just to show how obsessed she is with sukuna and her desire to be with him.
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Sukuna then fights with kashimo. Kashimo somewhat like jogo has an understanding of what it's like to be strong yet kashimo is sick of superficial interactions that the strong have to have with people that are inferior to them or want to challenge them. Kashimo asks sukuna if there is a way where he can be strong and surround himself with love sukuna says that this is selfish thinking considering his view that everything he cares for must be burnt for him to be strong. Kashimo isn't satisfied by only having strength but he also wants to experience simple things such as love, sukuna could of been similar to that long ago yet he gave up and has resorted to taking in all the destruction and enjoying himself from it. Kashimos fight with sukuna was more of a self discovery journey for the both of them and at the end they both come out on different sides.
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After higumara's death there is a whole chapter about sukuna and he starts questioning his own life view. What has he been doing? Is it worth it? Where is the joy in what he used to do? And he is again faced with his complete opposite yuji. He is deep in thought and he feels empty, confused even he can't seem to understand why everyone is dedicating themselves to this belief, they're all united and strong yet he is alone and bored. Sukuna has done everything he has fought and killed but like kashimo said that caught up to him and now he is tired of it he wishes to experience the unity and stuff that the others fighting him are experiencing. Sukuna has no purpose but to destroy at this point but he has caused so much that him destroying over and over again has just been a mundane cycle.
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Yet things start to change as the tides are against him and he may taste losing for the first time.
In conclusion, sukuna is an abstract and literal ideology of nihilism to a cerian extent and conveys the big bad villain trope in a fantastic way. I find him way more well written than AFO and muzan.
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