#not necessarily bc it wasn’t canon

[bibuckbuckgoose]

The 100 spited me many times and one I rarely hear talked about is Monty and Miller never being a thing

[marsipain]

I think it’s nice that people saw my last drawing of lloyd (where he wore a skirt) as enby lloyd

i’m happy you saw ur hc in my drawing <3

[dante-mightdie]

PERSONAL OPINION BUT… bc!simon would cheat on u after an argument of some sorts but totally regret it after

okay but. i see it.

note that i don’t necessarily consider it “canon” for blue collar!simon to be a cheater, it would work really with the persona i’ve given him.

content warning: angst, cheating

i don’t think he’d ever fuck someone else. he would never be able to go that far.

but after a nasty argument and 2 weeks of not having seen each other because he picked up so many shifts…

he found himself sloppy drunk and making out with someone in a bar. he stops when she whispers something in his ear and he just realises that she’s not you.

you.

you’re at home. alone. upset and waiting for him.

‘what a cunt.’ he thinks, ‘get a grip and go back home to your missus.’

he just wasn’t expecting you to be in the living room when he got in. sitting up on the sofa, groaning softly when he switches the light on.

you’re laying on the sofa, blanket draped over your legs and his man utd shirt covering your top half. there’s 3 cans of redbull on the coffee table in front of you.

you tried to stay up and wait for him.

you sit up, rubbing your eyes. you watch him as he shrugs of his jacket. the stone island one you got him for his birthday.

“si?” you yawned, softly. “I was thinking we should talk about-“

“oh.”

he looks up from kicking off his shoes to see what made you make that sound only to be met with your glossy eyes. the look on your face can only be described as a mix of utter betrayal and despair.

you’re looking at him. but not in his eyes.

no, you’re looking just under his face and at his neck.

he had discovered, after a quick glance in the mirror, that you were staring at his skin which was littered with hickeys and tacky coloured lipstick.

“nevermind.” you mumble soon after, turning to lay back down on the sofa with your back to him.

he knows how badly he fucked up. but he also knows he won’t be able to fix it right now. he knows you’ll be there in the morning. he banks on it.

but that knowledge doesn’t make him feel better as he lays alone in your usually-shared bed, listening to the sound of your muffled sobs through the thin flat walls.

[mondothebombo]

✨Small Canon Things in Ninjago That Aren’t Necessarily Important to the Plot, but Important to Me Pt 2✨

(in honor of the first post reaching 2.5k notes)

1. the reason the ninja can’t summon their elemental dragons anymore is bc they’re too traumatized

2. Kai takes laxatives

3. Lloyd felt responsible for Nya’s sacrifice

4. Morro took a shot while he was in Lloyd’s body

5. Cole’s favorite color is orange

6. Chamille, the master of form, is a “bad girl” post s4

7. the ninja were literal children when they waltzed into Chen’s tournament and proceeded to beat all the adult EMs in the competition

8. prior to seabound, Nya resented her parents for not being there in her childhood, her mother more so than her father (✨mommy issues✨)

9. Nya is hyper-independent as a result of her childhood; while Kai is more openly accepting to his parents because he has a better memory of them

10. Wu was close enough with Lilly that he could remember whether or not she wore a necklace

11. Cliff Gordon was a “womanizer”

12. Lloyd didn’t naturally hit puberty until s8

13. Cole and Jay are best friends

14. whether or not you see Pixane as a bf/gf situation in canon, they are canonically soulmates

15. Jay has not yet received his inheritance letter

16. at least up until the Merge, Zane’s statue is still in downtown Ninjago City

17. ninjago citizens are fully aware their only protection are six super-powered teens/young adults

18. the ninja are still famous, public figures

19. Jay is the only ninja who hasn’t died (yet)

20. despite being a terrible actor, Lloyd is always sent on the undercover missions

21. the ninja are on first name basis with each others parents

22. Cole’s favorite genre of music is soft rock

23. Zane has selective memory

24. after Nya’s sacrifice, each ninja depicted a different stage of grief (Zane-Denial, Kai-Anger, Lloyd-Depression, Jay-Bargaining, and Cole-Acceptance)

25. Cole never actually had feelings for Nya, he was just flattered by the attention and petty about Jay being mad at him

26. elements react based on the master’s emotions

27. Jay is so emotionally dependent on being around other people that he loses his mind when he’s alone for too long

28. Lloyd had a chat with god and wasn’t impressed

29. Cole’s snoring can be heard throughout the monastery

30. Nya is not a morning person

31. Kai and Skylor have been in a situationship since s4

32. Lloyd being the grandson of god is not common knowledge

33. the group of civilians that were on the bounty when Cole fell are probably the only ones who truly realize the danger the ninja put themselves in on the regular to protect the city, and how close they are with each other

34. Wu didn’t want to tell the ninja about the green ninja prophecy because he was afraid of having a repeat of Morro

35. since s8 at the very least, the ninja all shared a room on the bounty until the monastery was rebuilt

36. Jay’s confidence in his own abilities fully depends on what others believe he’s capable of

37. several villains have called the ninja out on being “just a bunch of kids,” and then proceeded to get their shit rocked by said kids

38. the overlord can gloat to Lloyd all he wants to in crystallized, but fact of the matter is Lloyd defeated him when he was like twelve

39. Kai and Nya raised and took care of each other, it wasn’t just Kai doing all of the work

40. Kai is two years older than Nya

41. Zane’s biggest fear is losing his humanity

42. Lloyd’s biggest fear is becoming his father

43. Nya’s biggest fear is losing her individuality

44. Cole’s biggest fear is letting his family down

45. we the audience are the only ones who see the characters as legos; they’re real people in-universe

46. Kai likes spicy food

47. while elemental masters are immune to their elements to some extent, their elements can also be shown to hurt them in some circumstances

and as always, feel free to add on!!

[redstarwriting]

i think i’ve seen this film before

hobie brown x fem!reader

request?: yes

request: “Can I request a hobie brown x fem! reader who saves his life but almost dies. Like, she’s super protective over him and one day they’re fighting an anomaly.”

requested by: anon​

word count: 2.8k

genre: angst with some fluff

Warnings: language, strangling, mentions of injuries, knives, mentions of stabbing, near-death experiences, murder, death, mentions of stitches, canon event happenings, kraven the hunter (he himself deserves a warning lmao), bruising, cuts, blood

A/N: angst be my favorite lol i hope you enjoy this anon! sorry for the torture hobie and (y/n) go through in this oops ALSO t-swift title bc i enjoy pain

───────────────────────────────────

The minute you came to Spider Society, Hobie became your best friend. Literally, y’all hit it off immediately. The two of you were seemingly inseparable and made the best team out of all of the spiders. He was overly protective of you, and you were overly protective of him. Because of that, it wasn’t surprising to anyone in the slightest when the two of you shared a kiss after a mission. Of course, for the two of you, it was an in the moment thing. Both of you were hurt and needed the other person to be okay and while the two of you were frantically making sure the other was alive and okay Hobie somehow ended up with his lips on yours out of relief you were still here. And then from that moment on you were together all the time romantically on top of being best friends.

Miguel noted this and started to try and send you two on missions without each other, but every time Hobie wouldn’t listen and end up with you anyways. So, he had no choice but to send the two of you together. But he was always worried that one of you wouldn’t be fast enough to save the other. And if that happened… well he’s seen enough Peter’s lose a Gwen to have a guess.

And today his fear nearly came true.

The two of you were on a mission going against a particularly difficult anomaly in his world. Of course, you and Hobie had taken on just as bad before and been fine, so going into it there wasn’t really any concern. But during the fight, things were getting a little hairy. The two of you land on a building to regroup and rethink your methods of attack. “Kravens fucking suck,” you growl, and Hobie nods. “Can always count on the bloody Russian wanker to make shit ‘arder ‘an it should be,” he frowns. “How do all the damn Kravens know how to develop the damn spray to cancel out our senses?” you ask, rolling your shoulder back since he had hit you there earlier after numbing your spider sense. Hobie rubs it without a second thought. “‘ow bad ‘e getcha, love?”

“I’ll be okay. Just pisses me off,” you mumble, and Hobie nods. “Don’t push y’self, (Y/n), it’s not worth it. If Miguel wants to catch ‘is guy so bad ‘e can do it ‘imself,” Hobie says, and you shake your head. “We can do this, just gotta come up with a new strategy.”

“Right, then. We’ll give ‘im hell like we did ‘at one time with Lizard in Miles’ dimension,” he suggests, and you nod. “Sounds like a plan. We can even knock him off the top of the roof of this building. He may be strong but he’s not us.” Hobie nods.

“Stay safe, (Y/n).”

“You too, Hobie.”

With that, the two of you leap off the building, Hobie going directly in front of Kraven and taunting him while you went behind him, getting ready to strike. Unsurprisingly, it worked. The two of you got in quite a few punches, kicks, and hits, but this Kraven just… wasn’t going down. The two of you didn’t know this, but he was actually drugged up on some enhancer from his world, so his durability was even stronger than usual. And getting a few good hits in just pissed him off. The two of you were going in for a similar attack, Hobie going behind him this time to catch him off guard, except that didn’t necessarily happen. Kraven caught him off guard. He turned around, grabbing Hobie by the throat. He gripped Kraven’s hands, trying to get them off, but his strength was too enhanced. Hobie actually felt panicked. He’s been through things like this a lot, but now he had you. And not only that, you were here, with him.

And he’s supposed to be protecting you.

His eyes widen as he feels Kraven tighten his grip, cutting off his airflow completely. Now, he was really panicking. He was desperately trying to pry Kraven’s hands off his throat, but nothing seemed to be working. He subconsciously started glancing around, trying to find you. If he was going to die, he wanted you to be the last thing he saw. Not this overly muscled asshole currently murdering him. He heard him muttering some shit in Russian, but he was too preoccupied with his vision starting to get fuzzy and going black. By this point, bitter tears were falling down his face, and all he could think about was you. He’d stopped fighting as hard at this point, mainly because he literally couldn’t fight any harder than he was, weakly trying to get Kraveen off in any way he could think. But it just wasn’t working. Nothing was working.

That is until Kraven got railed with a semi.

He let go of Hobie, and Hobie gasped for air. He fell to the ground, everything was hazy and he was too dizzy to stand up. He coughed, looking up at where the semi came from, and saw you. Kraven was angrily standing up again, and you were laser-focused on him. You charge at him, getting another good hit to his face. Hobie smirks, trying to stand, but realizes after he stumbles back down to that ground that he is nowhere near that point just yet. So he tries his best to take deep breaths and recover from what he just went through. But that leaves you alone fighting this piece of shit. He doesn’t necessarily like that idea very much. His eyes don’t leave you once. He knows how strong you are, but knowing how strong this anomaly is, worries him. So he calls for backup. Jessica answers, and he speaks. His voice is raspy, almost unrecognizable. “Need ‘elp,” he starts, still staring at you,  then he sees something that makes his entire body go numb.

Kraven punches you in the leg, and you suddenly stumble. You fall to the ground, and Kraven makes it a point to punch your other leg. And then both of your arms. Until you can’t move. Hobie’s heart drops as he realizes he’s using his nerve punch against you. He kicks you, hard, punching you in the face this time. Then, he pulls out his bolo knife. Hobie is running before he can even process it, and he learns later on that in his moment Jess heard him scream in a way she’s never heard before. He gets to Kraven and feels a searing pain spread across his chest, but he couldn’t care less about himself in the moment. He reaches out for you, ready to shield you with his body so Kraven can’t cut you again, but before he can grab you, Kraven picks you up by your throat, dangling you off the top of the building. You can’t even fight back, all of your limbs are limp and you just have to endure the choking Hobie went through earlier. Kraven laughs. “Do anything to me, and I drop her.”

“Let ‘er go. Now.”

“Well, if you insist.”

He drops you. He drops you right off of the high rooftop the three of you are on. Hobie screams, but Kraven quickly grabs him, preventing him from saving you. Big mistake on his part. Hobie growls, punching Kraven directly in the face. He doesn’t hold back. Kraven crumples to the ground, and Hobie jumps over the side of the building, trying to get to you as fast as he can. He doesn’t give a fuck about capturing Kraven anymore. You can’t move. You can’t web away from this.

You’re just falling.

You’re happy you have your mask on because you worry that the fear in your eyes would break Hobie. Hobie feels the same about himself as he reaches out for you, but you’re too far away from him. He shoots a web out, connecting to your abdomen as you near the ground, webbing himself against the building so you won’t keep falling. So you’ll be safe. He has to keep you safe.

To Miguel, he’s seen this scene a thousand times. The exact positioning, the panic, the way Spider-Man isn’t rationally thinking in the moment and makes a web mistake that destroys him. Typically, Miguel would stand aside. This is technically a canon event multiple spiders go through. But something in him isn’t accepting the two of you going through the event of losing the other.

 Canon event or not, Miguel wasn’t about to let another spider die today. 

Jess zooms over on her motorcycle, shooting webs out of her gloves to form a web of cushioning underneath of where you are about to hit the ground while Miguel leaps, shooting a web out to connect to your head to lessen the blow since he can’t get to you in time. Luckily, the web below you mixed with Miguel’s precaution quite literally saved your life. Your head did bounce back a bit, yes, enough to give you whiplash, but you were alive. Albeit very injured, but alive. Hobie leaps down immediately, landing on the web and cradling you in his arms. He rips yours and his mask off, bringing his ear down to your lips to hear you breathing. Then he puts his head on your chest to hear your heartbeat. It’s only then that he can calm down slightly. But then he sees the knife wounds all over your body. He looks into your eyes, seeing tears as he wipes them away. Sometimes he wipes away his own tears that dripped down onto your face. “Love? (Y/n)? Can ya ‘ear me?” he asks, but you just slowly blink at him.

You’re too tired to listen. You can’t really hear anything, but it breaks your heart to see Hobie’s face. The way he’s frantically trying to talk to you. You just don’t have the energy to say anything. He’s moving so much faster than you could even imagine moving right now. You can see Hobie mouthing to stay awake to you, but you can’t hear his voice. You wish you could hear his voice. You love his voice. He gently slaps your cheek, pulling your attention back to him. He looks so sad. He starts getting fuzzy, and you struggle to keep your eyes open. You know he’s telling you to stay awake and you know you probably should, but you’re just so tired. And cold. But Hobie will hold you and make you feel warmer. So, a little nap should be fine.

Your losing consciousness scares the shit out of him. He holds you close to him, crying and mumbling that he’s sorry over and over again. He only stops when Miguel approaches him, telling him they have to get you back to Spider Society so they can take you to medical. “But you have to let go of her…” Hobie shakes his head. “No. No, I’ll carry ‘er,” he says, and his voice sounds more like pleading than anything else. Miguel nods. “You can do that. Let’s go.” Hobie stands as Miguel opens a portal, walking through it and holding you as close to him as he can. He frequently checks your pulse, panicking when he realizes it’s fainter than before. As soon as he steps foot back into Spider Society, you’re taken from him. He just has to watch as they take you away. Jessica is holding him back. “You need medical attention too, Hobie. Come on,” she says, staring at the gnarly gash across his chest. He gets stitches, but the entire time he only asks about you. He’s only thinking about you.

“What happened?” Miguel asks him after he’s all fixed up. Hobie shakes his head. “I wasn’t fast enough,” he whispers. His voice is still raspier than usual and Miguel can clearly see bruising around his neck. “She saved you, didn’t she?”

“…I don’t wanna talk abou’ it.”

“Hobie—”

“Yes. Okay? She did. I’m alive cause she ‘elped me and when I needed to ‘elp her, I couldn’t. I ain’t fast enough,” Hobie snaps, and Miguel frowns. “Hobie. This is the job. She’s okay now, but—”

“I don’t give a fuck if it’s the fuckin’ job, Miguel! She got hurt on my watch!… This is my fault…”

“No. It isn’t, it’s that Kraven’s… though I don’t think we’ll need to worry about him anytime soon,” Miguel says, and Hobie glances at him. “Why?”

“You forgot to pack your punches in your panic,” Miguel sighs, and Hobie nods. “Fuckin’ good. Bloody bellend deserved it.”

Miguel shakes his head. “You should be able to go see her now. We needed to stitch her up and give her some blood transfusions so she’ll probably be a little… drowsy if she’s even awake. But you can see her.” Hobie immediately stands. “Where is she?”

Miguel walks him to your room, motioning to Hobie that he can go inside. Hobie walks inside the hospital room and rushes to your bedside. He grabs your hand, rubbing it with his thumb. You’re asleep, and he doesn’t even want to try and wake you up. But he can’t help but notice all the bruises and stitches all over your body. He can’t stop staring at your injuries, but the one that really sticks out is the bruising around your neck. He had the same, but he would have gone through it twenty times if it meant you didn’t have to. He’s crying again, but he doesn’t even make an effort to wipe the tears away. He just keeps staring at the injuries he couldn’t prevent. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

His head snaps to your face. Your voice is as hoarse as his, yet you’re still looking at him with a tiny smile. “’ow d’ya feel?” he asks, quietly. You sigh. “Bad. Head hurts really bad. Body’s sore. But it’s nothing I can’t handle,” you say, and he nods, looking away from you slightly as a new wave of tears comes over him. You bring your other hand up to his face, wiping some of his tears away. “Don’t cry, Hobie, I’m okay,” you say, and he shakes his head no. “You’re not okay. You’re ‘urt. I couldn’t ‘elp you…” he whispers, and you frown. “No. I should have helped you sooner.”

“Don’t you say ‘at.”

“Then don’t you say bad things about yourself,” you say, and he just looks down. “Hobie… look at me.” He raises his head, looking at your face. “I’m alive, okay?”

“But you almost—”

“Who cares what ‘almost happened.’ It didn’t happen, yeah? I’m here, breathing, talking to you,” you urge, and he shakes his head. “I care. Always gonna care, love,” he whispers, placing his hand on yours on his face, holding it there. You rub his cheek with your thumb, and he lets out a shaky breath. “I killed ‘im, y’know?”

“I’m so surprised,” you say sarcastically, and a ghost of a smile graces his face. But it disappears as fast as it came. “Really, though. ‘m sorry, (Y/n). This shouldn’ta ‘appened to ya,” he mumbles. You shake your head. “It’s okay, Hobie. You did your best,” you say, and he sighs. “Ya sound tired.”

“I am… apparently getting stabbed and cut multiple times makes you lose a lot of blood. Who would have thought, right?” you joke, and Hobie shakes his head. “Go to sleep, love.”

“Only if you join me.”

“Ya stable enough for ‘at?” he asks, hesitating just because of your recovery process. “I’ll be a lot less stable if I don’t get to hold you, Hobart,” you say, and he shakes his head. “I’m rubbin’ off on ya too much.”

“Impossible.” You scoot over, and he lays down. You wrap your arms around him as he places his head on your chest. Hearing your heartbeat is soothing to him right now. He gently wraps his arm around your waist, careful not to agitate your wounds. You rub his arm for a few moments before falling asleep. Now that he knows you’re okay(ish) and that you’re alive, he suddenly feels very tired. Maybe it’s just the lull of your heartbeat, but he falls asleep shortly after you.

Jess and Miguel look inside the room. “You interfered with a canon event,” Jess says, and Miguel shrugs. “I don’t like when spiders die.”

“Sure. That’s the only reason,” Jess mutters, softly smiling at the two of you. It was cute how in love the two of you were, even after a near-death experience on both ends. Peter B. Parker appears behind them, looking into the room and covering Mayday’s eyes. “Oh, shit— I mean shoot. Don’t tell your mom. What did I miss, you guys?”

───────────────────────────────────

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

Hcs for greasers with a GN!goth s/o who moved to town, and everyone, both greasers and socials are afraid of them, because everyone thinks they’re a “witch”

<twinning with @sadie-bug345 btw go check out her blog it’s amazinggggg here’s the link to her hc for this>

Ponyboy Curtis

-he was definitely afraid of you at first, and he 10/10 believed you could actually brew potions but also secretly thought you were cool and interesting

-he was SUPER intimidated by you

-but one day got enough courage to approach you when you were reading under a tree and found out that you were pretty chill and not yk a witch (he does ask tho, just it case)

-Y’all hit off and you showed him some of your music which he actually liked!

-eventually you guys started dating n stuff which was only surprising to those who didn’t know Pony that well

-you go on library/reading + music dates a lot

-Not a lot of Socs mess with him now that he’s always with his witch

-Fr no Socs mess with him he has such a scary dog privilege with you

-matching bandanas + belts

Johnny Cade

-he’s so in love with alt people honestly

-didn’t believe you were a witch and knew weirdos get a bad rap

-he wasn’t scared of you because he thought you were a witch, He was just scared to actually go up and talk to you

-he kind of always admired you from afar cuz yall had a similar vibe and you went to the lot a lot (hehe)

-One day after a long pep talk in the mirror he got the courage to go up and talk to you

-you guys really got along and started dating!

-when you first chatted he admired one of your best rings and you just gave it to him

-(he hasn’t taken it off since istg)

-you did his eyeliner one time and it looked SOOOO GOOD

-10/10 he does matching rings n belts and sometimes small makeup with you

-you guys are v cute together and honestly make so much sense, you’re also his scary dog privledge

Sodapop Curtis

-he saw you and was like ohhhh that’s why they call them a witch

-honestly surprised he liked you bc you aren’t usually his type but opposites attract yk

-he finds your style exotic and so different from his own it opens up his world

-you meet buying snacks at his gas station and he does his usual charming boy personality, suprised when you don’t respond to his flirtation and roll your eyes

-after lots of him flirting and you rejecting (more playfully over time) he finally manages to get you on a date with him

-you guys actually hit it off rlly well

-you guys are like golden retriever x black cat and compliment eachother soooo well

-tbh people saw it coming because yk opposites attract

-he tries to copy ur makeup one time and it did NOT end well 😭💅

-yall turn heads fr

Darry Curtis

-he didn’t necessarily wary of you because of the rumors, he’s just a traditionalist and not rlly used to seeing different people

-so when you come into town you rock his world

-one day your walking along just minding your own business when he grabs your arm and is like “wait” as if he isn’t stopping you from literally moving

-“so uh, what with the, uh, getup?”

“Idk man I just like to dress this way….”

-you guys start talking and actually become good friends

-after a few months he asks you out

-you guys are a pretty stable couple, and ponyboy definitely thinks of you as his rlly cool older sister

-I think yall are the most surprising

-he’s the most likely to change his wardrobe to match yours, def goes all out. Like not tooo far but he changes all his outfits to be vaguely goth

Dallas Winston

-was he a little (a lot) scared of you because of the rumors? Hell yes. Was he going to show that? Hell no.

-probs approached you on a dare or some shit 💀

-made a rude remark or joke so you slapped him and he was kinda surprised such a quiet thing could leave his face that red

-he was kinda in love with that ngl and loved your spunk

-he bothered you everyday after that

-back and fourth after much banter (enemies to lovers energy)

-he managed to actually get you to go on a date with him

-POWER COUPLE FR

-people are SO scared when they see yall walking down the streets yall are sooo intimidating together fr

-matching belts and rings

Two Bit Matthews

-you guys probs met in the back of the classroom

-he made some joke like “Damn, how’d you get out of your coffin this mornin’?!

-to which you responded with an eye roll and a chuckle

-you guys actually end up cracking jokes the whole period and laughing a little too loud

-he finally asks you out and you say yes

-you guys go out and make fun of Socs together and have a grand time

-you guys kind of started dating a bit immaturely, but you actually get to something that’s a lot more mature and have really deep conversations, you kind of ground him, and he kind of bring the humor out of you a bit

-he def takes advantage of the fact people are scared of you and you both jumpscare people and just have so much fun

-best Halloween couple fs

-overall pretty solid

-matching shirts

Steve Randle

-he probably heard the rumors and thought they were stupid and he was the least phased by your look

-I mean don’t get me wrong he liked it but he wasn’t gonna tell you that right away

-you don’t like eachother at first but after you start talking you start to appreciate eachother

-he asks you out and you say yes

-you guys are sooo cute n iconic

-you sometimes play music out loud when he fixes cars and just vibe together

-the EGO boost he gets from your compliments on his style

-he wears matching rings and shirts with you

[wttcsms]

daylight ; colt grice.

pairing colt grice x f!reader word count 14.3k synopsis colt grice's life has never been easy, and it's about to get a hell of a lot worse. content contains sw!reader, canon discrimination against eldians, depictions of violence, blood, taking care of him when he's injured, slowburn author's note this is part one of four!! / repost bc the first time around, it didn't show up in tags </3

part one: no sharing names

“Are you scared?” 

The teenage girl sitting in front of the cracked vanity mirror is shaking. She’s been jittery all day, and as the sun started its descent, she’s only been growing increasingly more and more anxious. You wish you could tell her that it’s nothing to be scared of, but that would be a lie. 

Your whole line of work is built on lies; the last thing you need to do is let Work You bleed through into Real You.

“It’s okay if you are.” That’s what you settle for, slowly running a brush through the thick, dark layers of her hair. 

“Were you scared?” She’s a tiny thing; it’s no surprise that her voice would sound so small, too. It makes your heart break just a little more. 

“I was.” Seeing that your admission doesn’t make her feel any better, you add on, “Sometimes, I still get scared.” 

“Oh.” And then, “How do you still do it?”

“I don’t have a choice.” You pretend that most of your focus is on the knot in her hair and not the glimpse of the horrified expression on her face. She’s actually a very pretty girl. 

Being pretty is a double-edged sword. The benefit of this is that she’ll never run out of customers; the downside of this is that she’ll never run out of customers. You drag the brush through the knot of hair more aggressively than you intend to. 

She doesn’t say anything, so you elaborate. “It’s just me and Ramzi, you know.” The girl nods in acknowledgement. At the refugee camp, everybody seems to know each other; a side effect of living in cramped spaces and having more communal areas rather than private ones. A tight-knit community, but hardly by choice. When the whole world seems to harbor an unshakable hatred towards you, you learn to cling to the people who don’t. 

“And Ramzi… He can’t make money, and we can’t keep living off the kindness of others. So, if this is how Ramzi gets food in his belly, and clothes that fit, how could I possibly stop doing this?” It’s not as if Marley is a land of opportunity; oppression fits it much better. You set the brush down and start to braid her hair. “This isn’t… This isn’t a job you can retire from very quickly.” 

It’s not a job you can necessarily leave, either. Not just because the money is more than what you could make doing laundry and picking up after people’s dogs, but your work history will always follow behind you, a permanent stain on your record. It’s best that she comes to terms with this sooner rather than later. 

“I don’t know if I can do this.” She sounds broken, defeated. The sentence comes out as a sob, and you’re distinctly aware of how her cries only continue to chip away at your resolve. You wanted to remain cool and impersonal. You wanted to act as if taking the care to do her hair for her wasn’t an attempt to give the poor girl some sense of normalcy — of comfort — before she gets sent to the slaughter. You want — the most dangerous thing a girl like you could possibly ever do.

You’re hugging the girl before you can tell yourself that this is a bad idea. The goal was to wean her off comfort, not coddle her, smother her with affection and comfort and warm words. How will she possibly survive if she’s continuously clinging onto the warmth nobody she services will provide? You certainly weren’t given anything to prepare for your first night; no warnings, no reassurances, no comfort. It was a hard lesson to learn, that no one visiting this establishment would ever care about you. That no one here would ever see you as anything more than something they’ve paid for. 

Three more seconds. That’s how much longer you’ll give her to bury her face in your neck, wetting your exposed skin and probably getting snot in your hair. Three more seconds, and then you will (gently) pull her away from you. Three more seconds, and you will begin to properly prepare her for her condemnation. 

One—

Ramzi is probably getting ready for bed right about now. 

Two—

You reminded him that he needs to take care of himself and to remember to layer the thin blankets so he can try to get as much warmth out of those hand-me-downs. 

Three—

It’s going to be a cold night.

You remove yourself from the embrace, taking in the girl. Her big, brown eyes are still shiny from her tears, lashes slick from them. She’s sniffling, lips quivering, and she looks a mess. 

(You try to ignore that by the end of tonight, she will look even worse.) 

You want to hug her again, but already, you feel like you’ve done both too much and not enough. Yes, it’s nice to know that someone cares, but that won’t do much to help her survive this. You place your hands on her shoulders.

“Look at me.” 

She forces herself to look you in the eyes. The shift in your demeanor makes her cease her sniffling, and she’s finally still.

“You asked me how I’m still doing this. I’ll let you in on a little secret, alright? Can you keep a secret for me, honey?” 

She nods, too afraid to speak. 

“It’s just all a big game. And every game has rules, right?”

 She nods again.

“I’ll tell you the rules to mine. The first one is that they can’t know my name.” 

“Won’t they ask?” 

“They don’t pay me to tell ‘em the truth.” 

That gets a semblance of a smile on her face.

Before you can tell her any more, there’s a loud bang on the door.

“Girls, we’re about to open up shop!” Willa, the Eldian woman running this whole establishment, gives you two this warning. You can hear her loud voice traveling through all the thin walls in this place. She’s making her rounds, visiting the other girls’ rooms to let them know, too.

“Guess our time is up.”

“Wait, but you didn’t tell me any of your other rules! How will I know what to do?” She’s panicking, scrambling for any reason to stay here with you instead of facing whatever nightmare awaits her out there. She’s clinging onto your arms, acting like you’re her lifeline, and how sad it must be, you think, for you to be the person someone looks up to.

“It’s your game, honey. You can make up your own rules, change them as you go, make special exceptions. Whatever you want to do.” You brush back a few strands of her hair that clings to her still-wet cheeks. “Just focus on figuring out all the rules, especially when you’re searching for something to think about.”

The best rules usually come during the times where you want to focus on anything other than what’s presently happening to you. On your second night, there was a man who produced so much saliva, that when his mouth was drunkenly exploring every inch of your skin, you stared up at the peeling paint on the ceiling and decided right then and there that no man was allowed to kiss you on your lips. 

“Why can’t they know your real name?” She asks. “Everyone back home knows your name.”

“Everyone back home knows me.” The men that come here are mostly men who want to break you. To take something from you, everything from you, to leave you with nothing. It makes them feel powerful, knowing that they paid a cheap price for free-rein to destruction. 

That’s how you win the game: by not letting them break you. 

These men, they never stood a chance against the personas you fabricate for them. Different names, different personalities — it’s all make-believe. Those girls, the girls you pretend to be, are the ones that get destroyed every night. 

“Promise me that you will never give them a chance to know you, Nadia.”

She nods, but unlike every other time, this one is fueled with conviction. 

Colt Grice is acutely aware that he has absolutely no business being here. 

The bright yellow armband sticks out like a sore thumb, acting as a flashing arrow that separates him from the other soldiers flanked by his side. Some days, it feels too tight, too restrictive, too heavy of a burden. Tonight, it feels like a blemish. 

Even drunk, Colt knows these thoughts are dangerous. Any Eldian would kill to be a Warrior candidate, and he’s all too aware of the privileges he and his family have been granted because this yellow strip of fabric says he should be granted some respect.

Not too much, though. Show a devil a little reverence, and he’ll probably take you straight down to hell with him — he’s certain that’s how most people here see him. 

Soldiers coming to the red light district of Marley is nothing new. When training gets tough or there’s time to kill, drinking ensues. Where alcohol goes, bad decisions have a tendency to follow. 

Colt likes to think of himself as responsible. Sensible. Even if the Marleyans would deny it, he would even go so far as to think that he is a fairly good person. 

Stumbling down these dark streets, passing by brothels and love hotels, he thinks a good person probably wouldn’t be here right now. 

“It’s fucking freezing out here,” Michael purposely bumps his shoulder against Colt’s. “Are you freezing too, or do devils just not get cold?” 

From anyone else, it would be an insult. From Michael, it’s a joke. Like most of Michael’s jokes, they don’t necessarily land the way he intends them to, but Colt doesn’t bother telling him to work on his comedic timing or delivery; as nice of a guy as Michael is, he could still easily get Colt punished for treason with just one conversation with any of their superiors. 

“Do you ever get tired of slumming it with us devils?” The slur glides off his tongue too easily. Michael makes a face before slinging his arm over Colt’s shoulders as a show of good-natured camaraderie. With the flickering streetlights and the few other souls walking past, there’s really no one to bear witness to it. 

“Nah.” Michael clears his throat and sounds like he almost wants to say something else but decides against it at the last minute. A second later, and he’s belting out an old battlefield victory song taught during their childhood training. With everyone else in the group inebriated, it doesn’t take much to get them to drunkenly sing along. Colt smiles at their antics, but doesn’t join in. He wants to try to shift his armband around, but Michael’s arm is still thrown around him, and Colt decides he could really use another drink right about now. 

Instead of stopping at a bar like he hopes for, the rowdy group makes their way into the infamous “Gentleman’s Club.” The paint is peeling, there’s shattered glass right beneath the boarded up window, and the words on the sign are so faded, the G entle part of it is nearly imperceptible. 

Colt does not think he is getting another drink tonight.

He’s not sure what to expect from a brothel. He’s heard some stories in the barracks, but he usually makes an effort to tune out those type of crude tales. How would his mother feel about him indulging in any of the activities being described by his fellow soldiers? What type of example would he be setting for Falco? 

Eldian soldiers looking for a quick and easy release usually frequent the cheaper brothels. From an outside perspective, it’s hard for Colt to believe that any of these places could possibly be in worse shape than this building. The fact that this one is the nicest is enough to make Colt regret following the crowd tonight. 

The entrance of the Club is sparsely furnished, with a singular light bulb hanging from the ceiling, flickering and casting weird shadows everywhere. There are some pictures in frames hanging on the wall, but the inconsistent lighting makes it hard for Colt to properly make out any specific features of the girls photographed. 

A redheaded woman appears, taking in the group of half a dozen soldiers taking up all the limited space in her entrance. 

“First time?” She asks them. She sounds perfectly calm, but Colt doesn’t miss the way her sharp, green eyes seem to linger on Michael. 

If he runs out of this place right now, would any of these guys remember or are they too drunk to trust their memories? Before he can further debate the merits of hightailing it out of here, Michael pushes Colt forward.

“It’s my friend’s first time here. Mind showin’ him what a good time a couple of coins can get him?” He winks at Colt, obnoxiously mouthing out words that look an awful lot like you owe me one . 

Colt can feel his ears turning pink from embarrassment. 

“Of course.” The woman’s tight-lipped smile indicates that she would much rather be doing anything else. “If you would follow me, sir.” 

He could still make a run for it. Sure, he might have to endure endless teasing and maybe word of this little escapade would reach the ears of the others in the Warrior Unit, to Falco, but the alcohol churning in his system is doing a magic act — look, kids, with just a couple of drinks, watch as I make all my critical thinking skills disappear! —  and Colt is very much aware that he is making a supremely bad decision, but—

—he follows the woman up the stairs, anyway.

“You’ve never been to a brothel before?” The woman asks as she leads him down a dark hallway. There are doors lining the wall, each of them closed. Sometimes, Colt can occasionally hear faint grunts and the sound of skin slapping against skin; the further he follows this woman, the louder the noises get. Or maybe it’s just all in his head. Maybe he’s making up the noises. Maybe they’re sharper, louder, only because he’s accidentally seeking them out.

He hears a scream. 

The woman doesn’t even slow her pace.

“No.” He answers. 

“Well, you chose the right one, at least.” She doesn’t sound like a proud business owner, and considering the circumstances, Colt can’t necessarily fault her for her lack of enthusiasm. “What kind of girls do you like?”

“Huh?” The question catches him off guard. 

“What kind of girls do you like? So that way we can pick the right one for you.” 

Colt doesn’t like the sound of this. He feels dirty, all of a sudden. Like he’s drenched in something filthy, and he needs to go home and shower. The fucking trenches are preferable over this.

She turns around, squinting at him. He can’t tell if it’s because it’s so dark that she can’t see him, or if it’s because she’s scrutinizing him. 

“Nothing coming to mind?” Colt is aware of the clientele that frequents places like these; her clear impatience and almost snappish tone catches him off guard once more. 

“Um, no. I’m not very particular.” An understatement, really. His kind aren’t allowed to be picky. 

She stares at him for a second longer before telling him, “I know a girl for you.” 

She leads him to the last door, knocking three times against it. Nobody answers, but this doesn’t seem to bother her. “Alright, Mr. Not Very Particular. Enter whenever you want, leave whenever you want. Normally, you pay something upfront, and then you stop by the front desk, and depending on how long you stayed, I’ll calculate the rest that you owe, but your friend is covering the cost for you. If I were you, I’d run up his tab.” He thinks she smiles when she says this.

He wants to ask her if Michael gave any particular reason for why he’s paying for a service Colt certainly never asked for, and more importantly, he wants to know why the hell Michael has an open tab at a brothel (freetime off base is usually few and far between, after all). He can’t ask her anything, though, because she’s walking away, probably to go stare into the other soldiers’ souls and ask them what type of women they’re into.

This just leaves Colt, a dark hallway, and the door in front of him. 

Not knowing what waits for him on the other side has never bothered him before. Colt is used to worst-case scenarios — a trait inherited by all Eldians. Optimism is a luxury people like him can’t afford. 

He wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all. He’s a Warrior Candidate — the one set to inherit the Beast Titan after Zeke’s time is up — and he’s being bested by what? A door?

Before he can think too much about it, he straightens his posture, grips the doorknob, and opens the damn door. 

It’s Michael’s money, anyway. 

When Colt was a young boy — so young that Falco couldn’t speak or do much besides staying swaddled in a blanket and pushed around in a stroller — his mother often made him go out for walks.

Keeping all that energy bottled up is no good is what she would tell him, before forcing him to lace up his shoes and walk up and down the cracked sidewalk of their neighborhood for thirty minutes. (It’s not until he’s older that he realizes she really just wanted him out of the house for her own peace and quiet.) 

The internment zone of Liberio could be worse. Even as a child, Colt learns that this is simply the unofficial Eldian motto, the doctrine of their way of life, if you will: it could be worse. 

In school, Colt learns that there are much worse places to be designated, and he should be grateful for the mercy of the Marleyans. The Grice family is at least better off than most; they have their own house, and the Public Security Authorities don’t patrol this area nearly as much as they do other areas in the internment zone. 

Another important lesson he learns young: just because you don’t see that you’re being watched doesn’t mean you aren’t being watched.

Usually, his mom sends him off on errands, especially when he starts to complain that it’s boring just pacing up and down the length of the neighborhood. Today is no different. 

“Go to the market, and get me some tomatoes. I forgot to buy some when we went last week.” Mrs. Grice narrows her eyes at her oldest son. “And no going off course, Colt. Absolutely no detours — to the market and right back home, do you understand?” 

His mom, just like every other Eldian mother, constantly battles with the understanding that their children need to learn how to survive outside the safety of their house and the overwhelming urge to try to shield them from said outside world. There’s always horror stories about what happens to little Eldian boys and girls who stray too far from the safety of their internment zone. 

With one hand shoved in his pocket, fist curled tightly around the money his mother pressed into his palm before sending him off, Colt heads towards the main square where there will be different vendors and stalls selling a variety of goods. Sweets, hardware, clothes, fresh fruit and vegetables; it’s easy to get distracted. The main square is probably the liveliest place in the internment zone, the only other place besides home that Colt assumes nothing bad can happen in. 

The first sign that something is off is when the usual pathway to the main square is eerily quiet. It’s a perfectly beautiful day, with the sun shining and no holiday that would cause the market to be closed down. The further he ventures, the more oddities he takes notice of. 

The blinds are drawn. Laundry that has long dried is still hanging outside, blowing in the wind. There are no children outside playing, and there’s a tiny voice in his head telling him that he should turn around right now. 

The second sign that something is off is when the flutter of curtains pulling back catches his eye. He turns his head and catches sight of an older woman peering at him through the little gap of fabric. She shakes her head slowly — a warning? He tightens his grip on the money in his pocket.

Normally, there are PSA officers patrolling the main square. With so many Eldians gathered in one spot, the officers are taught to think and anticipate the worst. A ruckus, a riot, the seeds of rebellion being planted — anything could happen. Who knows what these monsters are capable of? They couldn’t possibly just be innocently shopping for groceries and treats because there’s nothing innocent about them, period. A tamed dog is still a dog. Dogs bite.

The third sign that something is off is the deserted square. Stalls must have been hastily packed up considering the few remaining items left behind. There are no officers in the square, and Colt knows that something bad has happened. He doesn’t want to believe it at first, but the proof is hanging right in the middle of the square for any passerby to see.

There is a man hanging from the clock tower located in the middle of the square. His head is hanging limp, and Colt almost thinks that he’s dead, that there is a dead body put on display in the town square, but he sees the slight, unmistakable movements of his chest.

It’s even worse — the man is still alive.

He’s horrified. Colt is frozen in fear; somewhere during his assessment of the man, he must’ve gripped the coins in his pocket too hard because when he returns home, there will be an imprint of the currency etched onto the palm of his hand. He inhales, exhales, and is frightened to realize that his breaths are in tandem with the hanging man’s. Will he stop breathing when this man does, too? 

The man’s clothes are dirty, stained with dried blood and tears through the cotton. He’s been beaten before this has happened, no doubt. There’s no other explanation since he’s hanging too high up for anyone to touch him. He’s being held up only by the rope tied against his wrists, wrists with skin that is rubbed raw and red from the roughness of it all. 

There’s writing on the usually pristine brick of the clock tower. Dripping red, too bright to be blood but clearly a derivation of it:

TO LOVE A DEVIL IS TO BE ONE

He examines the man’s entire body, committing it to memory, especially his clothing. Dirty, torn, and tattered. Chunks of fabric ripped and ruined. Trousers, a work shirt, holey socks. The man’s left arm is still covered by the longsleeve of his shirt, but his eyes travel upwards. He blinks, rubs his eyes, and looks again, searching for the gray armband, searching for even a pin in the shape of the nine-pointed star. 

There isn’t any.

Even in death, an Eldian still must wear their armband. With no trace of racial identification, that can only mean one thing:

This man is a Marleyan.

Colt does what he should have done at the first sign of trouble: he runs. He sprints down the empty blocks and refuses to slow down, even as he goes through the neighborhoods closer to his own. There are people outside here, people who don’t know what has happened, and Colt ignores their concerned shouts and sighs of chastisement for running so recklessly down the street. He’s struggling to breathe and his legs burn by the time he barrels through the door of his home, the only safe place for him left, and he heads straight to the bathroom, ignoring his mother’s call of Colt, is that you?  

He throws up in the toilet, and when there is nothing left from breakfast for him to cough up, he starts to dry heave, images of that man, that Marleyan man, constantly flashing through his mind, permanently embedded in his memories. 

He hears the banging on the door, his mother’s worried questions of what’s wrong?, sweetie, are you okay? filtering through the wood of the bathroom door. 

There are fundamental lessons to be learned here. There is no place in Marley that is truly safe. There is nothing anyone living here can do, even if they want to do something. 

There is nothing good that comes from loving an Eldian, from loving someone like him.

“Hi,” there’s a girl in here, wearing a straight white dress — more like a sleeping gown, something long and flowy and a bit transparent — her hair tucked behind her ears and brushed behind her shoulders. She’s looking at him, studying him in a way that makes him subconsciously stand up straighter, like he needs to impress her, and there are a couple thoughts running through his mind right now.

You are a very, very pretty girl. Beautiful, even. He has never seen someone like you before, and he doesn’t think he ever will and,

He is simultaneously too drunk and yet not drunk enough for this encounter.

Another shot and he would have enough drunken confidence to approach you. Right now, he’s had just enough to make his mind go all foggy. What do you say when a beautiful girl tells you hi ? The correct reply is floating somewhere in his head, he knows it, but the answer eludes him at the moment, and all he can really focus on right now is that he is very, very upset with Michael. 

You tilt your head, standing near the bed but not approaching him yet.

“You alright, honey?”

Colt doesn’t normally have trouble speaking to girls. In fact, he’s quite popular back home. His girl cousins always groan during family gatherings, complaining to Colt that it’s so annoying how all their friends want to use them as a means to get closer to him. The attention is flattering, and he’s even flirted with the idea of a romantic relationship once or twice, but he always seems to have something else that he needs to focus on more. 

Focus, Colt. He tries to force himself to come up with something witty and flirtatious. What comes out is a strangled hi. 

He clears his throat, spits out a more coherent hello, and turns redder in the process. 

Smooth. He thinks. Real smooth. 

If you think there’s something seriously wrong with him, you don’t act like it. Instead, you smile at him, something so soft and sweet, and Colt knows for a fact that he’s a dead man. An absolute goner. 

“First time?” You ask, taking in his impossibly straight posture that doesn’t match with his curled hands and flushed cheeks. The uniform gives him away: he’s a soldier. You’re used to soldiers, some of them young and nervous, just wanting to get their first time over with. Those tend to be nice boys. Sometimes, you can even enjoy yourself — not because of their technique (or lack, thereof) — but because kindness is a resource so rarely shared with you, you can’t help but indulge in it when you get it. 

Most of the soldiers that frequent this place are Marleyan. They come here drunk from liquor and look forward to getting intoxicated with power. They’re rougher, meaner, less forgiving. 

You’ve never seen a soldier with a yellow armband before, though. A Warrior Candidate, that’s what he is. You wonder if he’ll be nice. He certainly seems nice. 

“I don’t normally do this stuff.” He blurts out. “Not sex, I’ve had sex.” And then, just for good measure, in case you don’t believe him (you do, of course, believe him; a soldier that looks like him certainly doesn’t have to try hard to find someone to warm his bed), he tells you, “I’m not a virgin, I swear.”

You sure act like one. You find yourself thinking, amused, but not necessarily annoyed. There’s something so earnest about him that you can’t find it in yourself to say something mean. Besides, men who come here aren’t looking for mean women. They’re looking for someone to exert their power over, and they’re looking for a fantasy. You’ve been doing this long enough to know how to fill the role of the woman of their desires. Some men are searching for someone sweet and docile, some are looking for a woman who’s reluctant, someone that they can chase and get to submit. No matter what, though, all of them are looking for prey.

Somehow, the soldier standing in front of you, with his blond hair and perfectly ironed uniform, yellow armband seemingly brightening up this whole room, he doesn’t look like he’s searching for prey. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he’s searching for an exit. 

“I’m not a virgin, either, so I guess that makes two of us.” You take a seat on the bed, patting down the empty space next to you, offering him a seat. He doesn’t take it. You think he’ll come around eventually. 

“I don’t… I don’t go to brothels.” He explains to you, and you nod in understanding. The stressed out soldiers of Marley saying they don’t go to brothels is like listening to an alcoholic tell you that they don’t go to the liquor store. You could try to call him out, but there’s always that little saying: the customer is always right. 

“Well, honey, I think someone must’ve given you the wrong directions because you’re in one right now.” 

“Colt.” He tells you. “My name is Colt.” 

“That’s a nice name.” 

He looks like he’s about to ask for yours, but before he can, you continue talking. “What do you want to do tonight, honey?” 

Honey. He told you his name so you wouldn’t have to call him something so sweet. He’s certain that you already saw his armband, saw him for what he is. The lack of disgust on your end is disarming him. 

“Whatever you want.” 

Idiot. He chastises himself. He’s said so many stupid things, at this point, he can’t even blame it on the alcohol in his system. He’s discovering that he just might actually be stupid. 

You give a little laugh. “You really haven’t been to a brothel before.” You adjust your position on the bed, getting comfortable, angling your body more towards him. “Normally, it’s the other way around. We do whatever you want to do.” 

You don’t sound the least bit upset about it, about the fact that you have to spend every night going through with whatever someone pays for you to do. What must it be like, he wonders. 

“I just want to talk.” 

You smile at him, and he takes a mental image of it, locks it away in his memories. 

“Sure thing, honey. We can talk, but the price remains the same.” 

“My friend has a tab here. He’s, uh, covering it.” 

Great. He inwardly groans. Now she thinks I can’t even afford to be here. 

“Must be a nice friend.”

“He’s not really a friend.” Colt explains. “Coworker is more accurate.”

“So he’s a soldier, too. That makes sense. Not sure where else you could find brothel buddies to go out with.” You don’t normally tease your customers too much. Most of the time, they aren’t here for conversation, and none of them are safe enough to say anything less than forced out praises of yes, you feel so good! to. 

“We’re in different units.”

“So how’d you two meet then?” 

“He’s—” Annoying. Irritating. A pain in the ass. A good guy, when he chooses to be. The nicest Marleyan Colt’s ever met. “—a free spirit. He just roams around, no matter how many times his commanding officer threatens punishment.” 

“He sounds fun.”

“He has his moments.” 

“And what about you? What are some of your shining moments?” 

You can tell a lot about a person by how they present themselves in their stories. If you’re going to ask an arrogant asshole soldier about his shining moments, he’s probably going to spout some nonsense about his (fictional) heroics on the battlefield (he hasn’t even fired a bullet at an enemy soldier before; hasn’t even seen war). Someone insecure struggles to even come up with a story to tell you. The best kind of people, though, tell you—

“On the day my little brother, Falco, got accepted into the Warrior Unit, I cried.” He gives you a sheepish smile and rubs the back of his neck nervously, like he’s embarrassed to admit this. “I was just really proud of him, and I knew how badly he wanted to be there. We had this whole celebration; my mom baked a cake, and my dad splurged on alcohol, and all our neighbors came over, too. It was this whole thing. And, uh, one of our neighbors asked Falco how he feels about being in the Warrior Unit. He announced to the whole party that he felt great about it because all he ever wanted to do was follow in my footsteps. I felt like I was someone for once.” 

—something just like that. 

He seems more relaxed after sharing this with you, and you can see it in the way his brown eyes seem to shine when he mentions his brother, the way he can’t quite seem to contain his pleased smile while reliving the memory, that this soldier isn’t lying to you. 

“What about you?” He suddenly asks. “What’s your shining moment?”

“You think someone like me is capable of having a shining moment?” You play at being coy, but it’s just a means of distracting him. No matter how sweet or nice this golden soldier seems, the last thing you want to do is share your own life with him. There aren’t many things you hold close to your heart, so revealing them makes all the emptiness in you suddenly seem that much more infinite. You don’t want to lie to him, though.

There is enough weakness (kindness) in you to spare to not disrespect his honesty by giving him a false memory. 

“Not only that. I think you star in people’s shining moments, too.” 

Honest. He’s being honest. 

Nobody has ever knocked you off balance like this before. You didn’t even think anyone would ever be capable of doing such a thing. And, the worst part of it all, is the fact that this soldier just throws this out so casually! What kind of person goes to a brothel and starts throwing out genuine compliments to the prostitutes? Someone not right in the head, clearly. 

But the smile on your face is unfairly sincere, and this, you realize with a sense of dread, is going to be one of your shining moments.

“Whoa, what’s the rush, Beast Jr.?” Porco Galliard is sitting on a crate outside the barracks, looking like he has absolutely nowhere to be. Commander Magath always reminds them that there is always something for them to be doing, and if he catches any of them slacking off, he is always willing to give them something to do. Porco received the same warning, same as the rest of the Warrior Unit, but he also thrives on pushing buttons. Colt knows he’s not stupid enough to challenge Commander Magath directly, but he also knows that Porco is arrogant enough to play the dangerous game of trying to see how far he can piss off Magath without getting written up. 

Ever since Colt was given the news of his inheritance of the Beast Titan, he spends more and more time with the current Warriors than the other soldiers, leaving him in a constant struggle to find his footing. The other soldiers already know he’s set up to reach the highest honor an Eldian can ever aspire to achieve, and what’s the point of getting too close to someone who’s only working with a limited lifespan? When he’s with the Warriors, Colt feels even less sure of himself. Zeke occasionally invites him to their meetings, lets him play at having some sort of significance, but Colt isn’t in as deep as the others are. Not yet. 

“What? I’m not rushing,” Colt says, sounding guilty, and exactly like someone who is in a rush. Porco is more observant than people give him credit for, and stubborn (although, people give him credit for being that all the time). 

“No way, you’re definitely in a rush. Where are you running off to?” 

“Don’t you have anything to do? I thought Warriors were supposed to keep busy schedules.” Colt attempts an evasion tactic, dodging Porco’s question and instead, putting the focus on him. Porco doesn’t give in. 

Then again, Colt can’t remember a time where anyone was able to evade the Jaw Titan.

“Now I know for sure that you’re up to something. What could Golden Boy Grice possibly be hiding?” Porco Galliard is dangerous on a good day; a bored Porco Galliard, with nothing but free time on his hands, is downright detrimental. “You startin’ a rebellion?” 

Colt’s eyes widen before he twists his neck, trying to make sure no one is in their vicinity. Even as a passing joke, all it takes is one person to mention this lighthearted jibe, and Colt’s life is over. Not only will he most likely be imprisoned and then publicly executed, but his family will suffer right with him. 

Porco throws his hands up in mock surrender. “Relax. No one’s here. They’re off actually doing their chores.” He seems to consider the situation. “Did you get a girlfriend or something?” 

Does Porco really have nothing better to do? Judging by the wide grin on his face, the answer is a definitive yes.

“Oh, shit! You do have a girlfriend.” He laughs, and Colt isn’t sure if he should be offended. “Look at you go, Grice.”

Porco is still laughing like this is the funniest thing he’s heard all day, but at least he allows Colt to go pass without any more trouble. The only reason he doesn’t bother correcting him, Colt reasons, is because he doesn’t want to explain himself. 

That’s all.

The red light district looks weird in the glow of the afternoon sun. The same dilapidated buildings, with their peeling paint and cracked windows, grimy signs and rusted, metal roofs, don’t look nearly as intimidating as they do in the nighttime. Instead, they just look a bit… sad.  

There are some people outside. Two old men smoking cigarettes outside what Colt assumes is a bar. A drunk man walking in the opposite direction, mumbling something incoherent under his breath, a half empty bottle of clear liquid hanging from his hand. A woman using a broom that’s clearly seen better days to sweep the outside of her own shop. 

The whole area feels like a graveyard for the living.

He feels aware of how he stands out. He stares straight ahead, following the cracked pavement, making his way to the Gentleman’s Club. With his stiff, ironed military uniform, neatly parted hair that’s hidden under his helmet, and hands too clean to have touched anything in this part of town, Colt can’t tell whether he looks like an adversary or a target. His only saving grace, the only thing keeping the half-dead inhabitants of this place away, is the yellow armband twisted tightly around his left bicep. He quickens his pace anyway. 

Already out in the lobby, standing behind a desk, is the same redheaded woman from last night. If she’s surprised to see him here again, she doesn’t show it.

“Back so soon?” She says, forgoing a polite greeting altogether. 

Considering where she is, Colt can’t necessarily fault her for it. Minding his manners (Mrs. Grice did not raise her children in a barn, going against what the Marleyans assume) and military training, Colt removes his helmet. He’s thankful that he has something for his hands to grasp, keeping them occupied. 

“Is—” For as much as he revealed to you, Colt realizes that you didn’t really offer much on yourself . Not even your name. “—the girl I saw last night here?”

“She doesn’t work in the daytime, no.” The woman pulls out a large book, flips through its pages, not bothering to look up at him again until a few more seconds pass. Acting as if she’s shocked to find that he’s still standing there, even though Colt knows she knows that he hasn’t left, she says, “I really don’t think you would be interested in any of our daytime workers, either. Even if you aren’t very particular.” 

“Oh. I see.” Colt, as a matter of fact, does not see. He’s just saying something to fill the awkward silence. 

“As a Warrior Candidate, I assume you have other places to be, Mr. Not Very Particular?” 

Clearly, business is doing well (even though the empty lobby suggests otherwise) since Colt hasn’t met a shop owner who seems quite content with shooing customers out the door. 

“Colt.” He tells her.

“Colt.” She repeats, slowly. “Well, Mr. Colt, my establishment prides itself on its discretion. I’d use an alias next time, if I were you.” 

He doesn’t tell her that he doesn’t plan on there being a “next time.” That would be rude.

“The girl from last night, I wanted to give her this. Would you be willing to hand her these when she comes in?” Digging into his pocket, Colt pulls out a pair of white cotton socks. They’re military issued, and stolen from the inventory warehouse. Colt was put on inventory duty, tasked with handling the shipment of new uniforms and training clothes. For all the heavy lifting he’s had to do, one pair of girl’s socks is a small price to pay. 

The pair you had on last night had been threadbare, at best. Even in the unlikely possibility that Colt gets caught and receives a punishment, knowing you had these for the upcoming winter would have made it well worth the trouble.

“You could always make an appointment and give it to her yourself.” For once, the woman seems like she’s trying to give him a genuine suggestion. 

The thought of doing that sounds nice, and then the feeling of his yellow armband being too tight brings him back down to reality. You didn’t wear an armband. There’s no indication of where you’re from, but you certainly aren’t Eldian. As nice as talking to you was, he’s aware of the fact that you didn’t seem too bothered that he didn’t take a seat next to you. Your reluctance to share anything about yourself speaks volumes. At the end of the day, you’re being paid. You probably only stomached his presence because you needed the money.

Ignoring the twisted, upset feeling in his stomach at these thoughts, Colt tells her,

“I don’t think she would want to see me again.” 

Her eyes linger on his armband, the same piece of fabric tied around herself, too, just a different color. She seems to know what he’s thinking. 

“My girls let me know when they don’t want to see someone again. We wouldn’t be having this conversation if she had an issue with you.” 

“Still, I probably—”

“There’s an opening for tonight at nine. Should I mark you down for that slot, or is there a better time that works for you?” The woman leaves no room for Colt to not make an appointment, and instead, he just lets the woman write down his name in her book. He walks outside with his pockets considerably lighter; the stolen socks are still shoved deep in there, but a majority of his cash now rests in her possession. 

(He had paid her the total amount upfront, as a way to force himself into showing up for the appointment. She had been very adamant that no deposits get returned, and she doesn’t do refunds. Ever.)

“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” Ramzi says, frowning at you as you hold up a handheld mirror, trying to examine your collarbone. There’s a nasty bruise marring your skin, slowly turning into an ugly bluish-purple splotch on your body. There’s no point in trying to apply makeup to conceal it; not only is makeup already too tough to come by, but it would be all for naught. It’ll get rubbed off before the end of your shift, and it’s not like your customers even care.

“I wish I didn’t have to leave, either,” you admit to your little brother, turning to face him. 

“Why do you still have to go when you’re hurt?” 

“It looks worse than it actually is.” You’re not lying. You really only notice the pain when you press down on it.

He’s pouting. A couple of years ago, when you first started, Ramzi used to cry every time you tried to leave. He couldn’t understand why you were gone at night, the only hours where a little brother could really use a sister, someone to protect him from all the scary, imaginary monsters that lurk in the dark. 

He finds out about what you do to ensure he’s taken care of. The first time you get recognized while shopping for food in a public market, Ramzi was clinging to your side, careful not to lose you in the crowd.

“Who’s letting the whores walk out in public?” Someone had shouted. A man. 

You were with that same man two nights ago. 

Someone else in the crowd says, quite loudly, “How shameless! Doesn’t she know there are families trying to enjoy themselves?” 

“Look, the whore has a child herself!” 

Your cheeks had become heated from embarrassment. You couldn’t even look the fruit seller in the eye as you handed him the money to pay. You’re using the money received from the services you gave that man, the one who called you out. 

Only when you two had made it back to the safety of the refugee camp did Ramzi slowly detach himself from your side. He was still just a young child, completely pure, full of innocence, staring at you with his dark eyes wide with wonder.

“Sissy, what’s a whore?”

You want to wash his mouth out with soap. You want to tell him to never say that word ever again. It’s bad enough having to harden your heart and take no offense when men call you it repeatedly, night after night, but you never realized how much it would hurt to have to hear it come out of your little brother’s mouth. 

Instead, you swallow hard, hold back your tears, and pat his head affectionately. “You’ll find out when you’re older, Ramzi. Don’t you waste a single second worrying about that.” 

Ramzi naturally finds out what that word — and all the other degrading insults hurled your way — means. Now that he’s older, he knows better than to repeat any of those words, especially when the two of you are in the safety of your home.

“If I didn’t exist, would you have to do all this?” 

Childhood is nothing more than a pipedream for kids like Ramzi. In a world where only the fittest survive, growing up is imperative. Not only is he old enough to understand, he’s old enough to do his own critical thinking, come to his own conclusions. 

If Ramzi didn’t exist, you would not be doing this. You would be like some of the older women in this camp, the ones who scrape by by doing odd jobs for pitying Eldians and living off the scraps the other refugees provide. You never tell Ramzi this because there’s no point in telling him that. He’s your only real family left. The only person in the world you think you’re capable of loving, completely, honestly, with your entire being. If the universe served you an ultimatum, telling you to be with Ramzi but die a prostitute, or live without him and live a different life altogether, you know you would choose Ramzi, every single time.

“If you didn’t exist, I wouldn’t be here at all.” You tell him. “I wouldn’t have bothered leaving our first home when Marley attacked us. I would have just decided to let the rubble and fire crush me, kill me. And even if I did manage to make it out, I would have died in this refugee camp from loneliness. Don’t ask me something like that again.” You find yourself holding back tears. “You are the reason why I’m alive, Ramzi. Don’t ever assume I regret anything I do in this lifetime, especially if it’s for you.” 

“I’ll pay you back.” He declares, standing up from the pile of blankets he was burrowing himself under. He runs straight to your side, hugging you, burying his face in your shirt. “I’ll find a way to keep us going, and then you won’t have to leave or go back to that place ever again.” 

You hold him tightly, stroking his hair. What a dream that would be. 

Withdrawing from him, taking the walk with the other girls to the brothel, preparing yourself for the night awaiting you — all of it is done with a sad smile on your face as your little brother’s promise plays over and over in your mind the whole time. 

That’s all it is: a dream. 

You think you discover a different plane of existence when you find yourself detaching from the present and use your mind to float yourself to a different time, a different place.

The man’s pace is quick and rushed. He’s just focused on getting off. On the bright side, he’s just here for the sex and not the show. No need to try to get into character, to figure out what personality he wants from you. 

A sex doll would be a good gift for him, you find yourself thinking. A hefty investment, for sure, but think about all the money he’s spending at the brothel. If he calculates his annual payment, the sex doll looks like a steal in comparison.

You ignore his grunts, reducing it to nothing more than white noise. You stare up at the ceiling, wishing you could see the night sky. Stargazing — that’s what you would like to do. If you close your eyes, you can picture the starry night from back home; not Marley, not the refugee camp, but your real home. The one where you grew up. The one destroyed by this man’s people.

You work at night, yes, but you spend all your time stuck in this room, reduced to an object of pleasure. By the time you get off from work and take the long, tiring walk back to the camp, it’s already dawn and the only star in the sky is the rising sun. You miss the little luxuries in life. You miss being able to look up at the night sky freely, counting all those twinkling, shimmery flecks above. You envision a shooting star, and make a childish wish, and somehow, with nothing but stars and silly wishes on your mind, your brain conjures an image of the blond soldier from last night. 

You don’t realize how stiff your body is until you actually find yourself able to relax, to sink into the hard mattress beneath you. With his erratic thrusts, you’re certain that your client is nearly finished. At least he doesn’t have the stamina nor the recovery rate to go for a quick round two. You don’t want to think about the client though, so you take yourself to where you can actually stomach being. To places where you want to go. To see people who you want to see.

The soldier. Why does he keep appearing? It’d be bothersome if you were busy trying to do anything else, but seeing as he’s the only reprieve your mind can come up with, you go with it. 

Besides, there are far worse things and people to think about. At least this one is kind.

Kind, and genuine. And surprisingly soft-spoken. Not in a shy manner of speaking; no, the smooth, deep tone of his voice sounds nice. You can see why he’s in the Warrior Unit. If he really put his mind to it, he could get anyone to do anything with a voice like that alone. A voice of a commander, surely.

Unlike the other soldiers you’ve dealt with, he speaks to you softly. Gently. Like you’re someone to handle softly, gently. 

This is precisely why you try not to coddle the new girls. See what happens when you’re given a little kindness, a little warmth? You start clinging on to it, desperately, hungrily. You crave it, seek it out, search for it everywhere you can, and when you can’t find it anywhere else, you start jumping through hoops, trying to convince yourself that there’s something sweet hiding underneath the cruelty everyone else gives you. 

If one person is capable of being kind, that means everybody in the world is capable of it. And if everyone else chooses to treat you like the scum of the earth, then it’s clear the one person who was nice to you was just an outlier. Or, just a liar. And then you spiral, start to think something is wrong with you, like maybe you’re at fault. Maybe you just didn’t deserve to be treated nicely. Maybe the problem isn’t with other people; the problem is you. 

Before you can drown in your self-loathing any more, the golden memory of the soldier breaks through your thoughts. 

Nothing so bright has ever entered this place until he stepped in your room and stood by the door, a blushing, stammering mess that contradicted his position in this society. 

He just wanted to talk.

Men never want to “just talk.” It always ends up becoming something much more. You think about Malik, who occasionally stops by your tent at the camp to bring you and Ramzi any of the leftovers his family has. Malik, who struggles to be soft because of all his rough edges, a side effect from growing up a child in the middle of a war. Malik, who had tried to kiss you the last time he wanted to talk. He had apologized, even though you found yourself telling him there was nothing to be forgiven for. The kiss could have landed, and you still wouldn’t be able to be upset with him. 

Would that soldier try to kiss you? You think of how he stood by the door the whole night, never leaving his station. He must be a good soldier, you rationalize. He’s probably respected by his peers. Someone his family is proud of. In this line of work, you don’t have to work particularly hard to seduce the men; they all come here out of their own lustful volition. It would honestly be tiring having to lay your charm on the whole time you’re here. 

Did the soldier find you charming? Out of all the personalities you try to emulate for these men, the closest one to your true self had been with him. There wasn’t a need to force out replies you didn’t want to say, no gut feeling arising in your belly, warning you to keep your wits about you because saying the wrong thing in a conversation with a man could be a matter of life and death. No. 

He just wanted to talk.

What if you tried to be more charming next time? Maybe you could let your dress ride up more, reveal to him more slivers of skin. He had been respectful the whole entire night; you don’t think he noticed you noticing him. His eyes never left your face, except to occasionally look down at his hands when he thought he said something stupid. 

(For the record, you didn’t think he said a single stupid thing once.)

You come back down to reality as the man is pulling out of you. He tosses the used contraceptive in the trash bin and is zipping up his pants. He doesn’t look you in the eye as he slaps down a few crumpled bills on the nightstand. Willa may take a portion of the total payment, but all tips go directly to you. 

You don’t thank him as he’s on the way out. Does garbage ever show gratitude when you toss it to the side? 

Willa makes a point of trying to schedule appointments in a way that ensures each girl gets at least ten minutes to herself between clients. A brief reprieve, a chance to recollect, to build yourself back up again right before someone else walks in to destroy you. 

In the silence and darkness of the room, you toss aside any what-if scenarios between you and the soldier. He’s likely never going to return. There’s no point in fantasizing about a “next time,” because it’s never going to happen. 

You feel empty, devoid of emotion, cold, when the door opens again. You look up at your newest customer, ready to work out what show to put on for him when you feel life flooding back into your body, shocking your system.

Closing the door gently (as opposed to the carless slams most customers do) is the soldier. The same soldier from last night. His golden hair and his sunny smile and the bright armband flaunting his status. 

“Hi,” he says, standing by the closed door, the same exact spot he was in last time. 

It really is him.

“Hi,” you say back, too stunned to come up with anything clever or fascinating or charming. 

He came back! 

“Conversation must be pretty poor in the military if you’re coming back to little old me for a chat.” You recover quickly, smoothing down your dress, wondering if your hair is a mess. 

He cracks a smile at that. “Well, you’re certainly more fun to talk to than half my bunkmates, I’ll give you that. But no, I actually came here to bring you something.” 

“You brought me a gift?” Sometimes, clients bring their favorite girls gifts. You’ve received things like lacy undergarments, tiny bottles of perfume, things that would make their visit more pleasurable. You don’t see any shopping bags or wrapped boxes in his hand, and you wonder if he’s pulling some cruel joke on you. Like, surprise! You really thought I would get someone like you a present? 

“Wait! Don’t get too excited. It’s not really much, but…” He digs into his pocket before pulling out a pair of bright white socks. He hesitates for a second, as if he’s thinking about what to do, and then he’s making his way to you, standing in front of you. He still has to stretch his arm out to hand you the socks, making sure to leave what he must consider to be a respectful amount of space between you two. 

“Wow.” You breathe out, examining the gift. The cotton is soft, thick. It’s so bright and fresh and clean, you almost cringe at the thought of stepping on these floors with them on. They would be covered in a layer of dirt and grime within seconds. It feels expensive. It feels a lot nicer than any other article of clothes you’ve received since seeking refuge in Marley. It feels too good to be true. 

No one gives you something for free. When you remember this lesson, you look up, only to realize that he’s returned back to his spot by the door. 

“Like I said, it’s not—”

“Thank you.” You suddenly feel shy, holding on tightly to the bundle of cotton. “Thank you, truly. I really don’t know how to repay you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” In the dim light of the room, you can see his face and ears turning a faint shade of pink. There’s a pleased smile on his face, and it makes your face feel warm. 

“So, you spend money just to stand by the door all night and make conversation with me, and then you bring me very nice gifts, too. Honey, I don’t think you understand how brothels work.” 

“Colt.” He says, in that soft, patient manner of his. There’s a hidden request there; not a demand, but a plea. If he asked you for anything else, you would eagerly give it to him. If he took you right then and there, you would be a very willing participant indeed. 

But he’s not asking for sex, he’s asking for something more intimate. 

He wants you to call him by his name. 

You can’t do that. It’s too personal, it’ll blur even more boundaries. 

“Don’t tell me you really think I’d forget.” You say this instead, trying to subtly avoid the situation at hand. “I couldn’t forget even if all the other customers paid me to.” 

“What do you call them? Your other customers.” There’s no malice in his question, no envy; just pure curiosity. Hearing someone want to know more about you is a foreign interaction. You don’t think you’ve ever been asked a genuine, normal question in years. 

Honey. It’s simple. It’s basic. It’s impersonal. Sweetheart, depending on what character you’re trying to perform as. Baby, on occasion. 

“Silly things.” You tell him. It’s the truth. 

“But the same things?” He asks, and you nod.

“I don’t want to call you the same things, though.” The socks feel warm in your hands, and there’s a tiny voice in your head screaming at you for being so damn truthful, for not keeping your mouth shut. Why is it that the things you want to say and the things you should tell him are the exact same thing? It’s oddly nice, being able to speak your mind and have someone actually want to hear what you have to say; even better to have it be the right thing to say. “What do you think, soldier? No more calling you ‘honey.’” 

He opens his mouth, closes it, tries to say something, then thinks better of it. Finally, he lands on, “Whatever you want to do.” 

Whatever you want to do. Last night, he told you whatever you want. 

For the hour he’s here, you can try on a new role. A girl who wants. A girl who is allowed to want. This girl — you — decides that he doesn’t even need to fulfill any wishes. Wanting is enough; for you, it’s enough. 

You get comfortable on the bed, casually pulling back your hair and letting it lay behind your shoulders, against your back. With no hair to block it and the low neckline of your dress, your collarbone is on display. You momentarily forget about the ugly bruise, and you don’t notice the way his eyes flicker downwards, seeing it. Instead, you’re happy to start interrogating him.

“What’s it like, being a soldier? I heard the yellow means you’re a special one, right? A Warrior.” 

“Being a soldier is an opportunity I’m happy to have.” He answers carefully, trying not to sound ungrateful. There’s no way his family would have been able to afford the tuition for medical school so he could be a doctor. He didn’t want to be a shop owner, either. Career options for young Eldian men are limited. Enlist, or starve. “The yellow band means I’m in the Warrior Unit, but I’m not a Warrior yet.” 

“You’re still in training?” 

“Something like that, yes. But I have to wait until the other Warrior’s term is over before I can take his spot.” 

“You’ll be able to shift into a special Titan then?” 

Colt searches for the malice, the fear, the disgust. He only hears your curiosity. 

“I’m set to inherit the Beast Titan.” 

He finds himself standing up straighter, almost puffing out his chest in pride at the way your eyes go wide with awe. 

“That must be the best one.” 

“What makes you say that? The name?” Having the moniker of Beast just makes him feel even more inhumane, but titans aren’t necessarily humans, right? No point in trying to disguise the truth as anything but. 

“No. You just seem like you’re the best soldier, so I assumed they would reserve the best Titan for you.” 

Devil, monster, savage — whatever he is, he finds himself not caring. The warm feeling taking root in his chest, spreading throughout his body as a result of your words, makes him feel incredibly human. 

“Yo, Grice! Isn’t this insane?” Michael slaps Colt on the back, ignoring the way Porco raises an eyebrow at the interaction. 

“Shouldn’t you be with your unit?” Colt asks him. 

“Nah. They don’t really care—” 

“Lieutenant Sells, why the hell are you over there conversing with the Warrior Unit when I know damn well you popped out your mother a full-blooded Marleyan boy!” 

The commanding officer for Michael’s all-Marleyan unit is red in the face with an angry vein protruding from his forehead. Michael seems entirely unfazed by the whole thing.

“I think your CO is calling for you,” Porco says. 

“Huh. Was that him calling, or just the sound of flies buzzing?” Before Michael can look too pleased at his comment, his CO is screaming for him once more.

“Lieutenant Sells, every second it takes you to come back here and get in formation, is one lap you’re doing around the whole damn camp! I am not in the mood for your little games right now, Lieutenant!” 

With his smile wiped off his face, Michael shoots them a look that says something along the lines of save me, before jogging back to his actual unit. The whole entire time, he’s being berated by his commanding officer. 

“You keep interesting company.” Porco comments. “Hope your girlfriend is at least more sane.” 

That’ll be tough, Colt thinks, considering his “girlfriend” doesn’t exist.

When war isn’t active, the Marleyan military grows restless. When Marleyans are bored, things are bound to go from bad to worse for any Eldians in their vicinity. Today’s scheme that they cooked up involves an all-unit showdown. Physical sparring, no weapons, between soldiers from all the different units. 

No weapons, no maiming, no killing. Those are the rules. 

The unspoken rule, of course, is that any serious punch dealt by an Eldian that lands on a Marleyan is sure to result in some awful punishment, ranging from toilet-cleaning duty to having a finger chopped off. Pity. Colt foolishly woke up this morning thinking he was going to have a good day. 

He ends up getting paired with a burly Marleyan boy. He’s around the same height as Colt, but where Colt is lean, this boy is bulky. His muscles practically cause his uniform to burst at the seams. 

The officers are making a whole day out of this, too. Too much free-time. Why let their soldiers rest or train in peace when they can gather them all up and publicly humiliate the Eldians? Yeah, because that schtick never seems to get old.

Commander Magath looks at Colt before sending him off to get his ass beat. It’s the same look Colt imagines a butcher gives a cow before killing it. For an animal, you weren’t too bad. Sorry things had to be like this. Not really, though.

“Whatever you do, don’t take that shit lying down.” Porco had muttered into his ear. 

Colt isn’t like Porco, though. Things will only be worse for him if he does put up a good fight, and, unlike Porco, Colt is capable of possessing rational thought and the ability to put his ego to the side. He only hopes that Falco and Gabi will close their eyes. 

“Shake hands,” the Marleyan commanding officer commands them. It’s a show of camaraderie. That this is just all in good fun. A way for all the units to bond! Colt’s not sure who’s falling for that lip service. 

Like the good sport, the good soldier, he is, Colt extends his hand. The only show of defiance he will allow himself, he decides, is to not wince in pain as the Marleyan soldier crushes his hand. Colt smiles, which seems to only piss the guy off even more. 

Thanks a lot, Porco. I tried not to take this shit lying down, and now you’re going to have to lay me in a grave. Tell Falco I love him. Colt thinks miserably.

“Remember, boys: no weapons, no maiming, and no killing. Try your hardest to follow these rules. First one down for ten seconds, loses. On the sound of the pistol.” 

Once the pistol fires, Colt narrowly dodges the boy’s attack. With his build, it’s easier for Colt to move quickly, more fluidly. If he can just continuously keep dodging the boy’s hulking arms and certain death grip, Colt figures he’ll be safe. If it comes down to a battle of stamina, he knows he’ll win. 

“Come on, Colt! You can do this!” Colt makes the mistake of trying to search for Falco, trying to pinpoint his voice through the crowd. This is the last thing he wanted! Why is Falco watching this? Why did Porco not grant him a small mercy and force his brother to close his eyes. 

One second, he’s looking for Falco. The next, he’s getting punched right on his left cheek. 

Fuck.

He staggers, loses his footing. He reflexively touches his face, already feeling the sting of the punch. He tries to avoid the boy’s next attack but moves too slow.

Fuck.

There goes his right cheek. At least he didn’t lose any teeth.

Colt says a quick prayer to any benevolent god listening. 

Please don’t let him land a punch on my mouth. Please let me keep all my teeth. 

He can feel his training kicking in. He digs his feet into the ground, subconsciously getting back into a proper fighting stance. He feels how naturally his hands ball into a fist. Even with his head ringing, his vision a bit dizzy from getting knocked around, Colt can still calculate the perfect time to go on the offense and throw his own punch.

Don’t take that shit lying down.  

And right before the perfect opportunity to strike comes, Colt thinks of you.

You just seem like you’re the best soldier, so I assumed they would reserve the best Titan for you.

There’s more at risk here than just a banged up face and ruined dignity. He has a good thing going. He’ll be the Beast Titan and pay his reparations for being born by fighting for people who don’t even care about him. No time for a traditional midlife crisis, at least, seeing as how he’s most likely not going to live to see his thirties. 

The fist he makes uncurls. The moment of opportunity passes. The last thing Colt thinks about is the bruise on your skin. He hopes that you make it to your thirties. He hopes you live a nice, long life. If anyone deserves it, it’s you.

When he gets knocked down, he doesn’t bother trying to get up. The ringing in his ears intensifies, and cutting through the noise are Falco’s and Gabi’s screams. Has it been ten seconds yet? Colt looks up at the sky. It’s a cloudless day. Nothing but sunshine and blue skies. 

Yeah. Usually the most beautiful days are the worst for him. 

Blocking his view of the sky is the Marleyan boy, his face contorted with contempt. Colt tries to think of the boy’s name, searches through his mind and looks for a time where they interacted. He comes up blank, and he doesn’t think it’s because of the mild concussion forming, either. They don’t even know each other.

Just knock me out, already. Colt wants to groan out. Hell, take a tooth if it’ll end this thing.

He catches a glimpse of something shiny, reflective. The sun? No. This is silver.

A blade. 

Didn’t they say no weapons? Why isn’t the match over yet? It’s definitely been ten seconds.

He fills the coldness, the sharpness, of a knife’s tip pressed against the flesh of his face. 

He should fight back. He should get up, take the knife for himself, and show this boy what a real fight looks like. 

No. He wouldn’t take the knife. The rules clearly stated “no weapons.” That wouldn’t be fair, it wouldn’t be right. 

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” A voice shouts, and maybe he’s hallucinating because in what world is Commander Magath the one who looks out for him? Then again, it’s probably going to be tough replacing the future Beast Titan. Zeke likes him, too, which has to mean something. 

There’s a lot of murmurs from the crowd, and Colt strains to listen to what they’re saying. He thinks he hears fabric tearing as a blurry Marleyan soldier is being pulled off of him. 

Then, the world goes black.

“Ugh, you.”

When Colt regains consciousness, he realizes he’s been transferred to the infirmary. The cot he’s laying on is cold, and he looks down. He’s shirtless. He doesn’t know why he suddenly feels so shy when he turns his head and sees that the nurse is female.

Most of the nurses assigned to the Warrior Unit are women. This fact has never bothered him before, has never even properly registered in his mind before, but the stark white of their uniforms reminds him too much of the soft white of your dress.

The only nurse present isn’t speaking to him. She has her back turned, hands on her hips, talking to whoever pulled back the curtain. 

“You’re so mean. Geez, I thought nurses were supposed to have empathy.” 

Michael. 

Colt can never seem to catch a break.

“If you want empathy, go get treatment from your own unit’s nurses. People who want proper treatment go to me.”

“Okay, we all know why you took this job in the first place. Don’t start with me, Claire—”

“I know you aren’t taking that tone with me right now. Who do you want me to get: your CO or your mom? Hurry up, and pick before I call them both.” 

“C’mon, Claire!” Michael whines. “Let me in! He’s my friend.” 

Claire turns around, squinting at Colt, who decides to feign sleep at the last minute.

“I know you’re awake.” She says. He opens his eyes. 

At least she’s nicer to him than she is to Michael. “Do you know this boy?” She points to Michael, who looks too cheerful considering his conversation with Claire. 

“‘Course he knows me! That’s my brother! It should be obvious. We look just alike, don’t we?” He knows it’s just a joke, but all things considered, the resemblance is somewhat striking. The same shade of blond, same build; the only difference is the eyes. Michael’s are a dark blue. “I clearly got the good genes, though. Ma says he looks more like the milkman than pa, but don’t tell him I said that.” Michael winks at Colt. 

Nobody laughs.

“Michael, you really shouldn’t be here. This is a Warrior Unit designated area of the base. I’m being serious.” 

“But he’s my friend.” Michael tells her this, but she shoots him a look that says yeah, right. Colt wants to tell Michael to be careful, to not just go around spouting nonsense like that, but the nurse seems used to the meaningless drivel that comes out of Michael’s mouth. 

“Is that thing really your friend?” Colt’s shocked when he realizes she’s speaking to him, pointing at Michael, indicating that it’s Michael that’s “that thing.”

“Yes.” Colt says, realizing with a sinking feeling that it’s the truth. The feeling only gets worse when he sees Michael doing a fist pump.

“Oh my gosh. Your concussion must be even worse than I thought.” Claire gasps. “It’s okay. Whatever’s wrong with you that is making you keep him for company, I’ll fix it. Don’t you worry.” 

“Are you even certified?” Michael snaps. 

The scathing look she gives Michael would be enough to knock out Colt. Michael’s tougher than he looks.

“I need to go to the supply closet and get some more things since someone decided to get cut and made me use all our bandages trying to patch him up.” Claire announces. “You two — behave.”

Colt presses his fingers to his face and feels only one big bandage stuck on his forehead. 

“Finally the Wicked Witch is gone.” Michael mutters, before turning his head sharply, almost as if afraid she’s secretly eavesdropping. He relaxes when she doesn’t jump up behind the curtain to put him in a chokehold. “Anyway, how ya feeling?”

“Like I just got publicly beaten. Oh, wait.” 

Michael laughs. “Yeah? Don’t worry, he’ll get what’s coming to him.” 

Colt doesn’t necessarily like the sound of that, but who is he to get onto Michael? 

Michael tosses two strips of yellow fabric onto Colt’s chest. So, he wasn’t imagining the sound of fabric tearing, then. His armband is ruined. He’ll have to get a new one once he’s released. 

“His knife accidentally nicked your sleeve when we were trying to yank him away from you. Figured you would miss it, so I snatched it up.” 

“Thanks.” 

“No need for all that. You’re gonna make it seem like I’m a good guy, or something. We’re friends, anyway. If you ever need anything, just ask.”

“Bruise ointment.” Recovering from a mild concussion must have caused more brain damage than he thought possible because Colt knows it’s poor manners to start making requests. Especially to someone who doesn’t have to worry about getting his armband ripped off. 

“If you’re worried about your busted up face, don’t. I heard girls go for guys with rugged good looks. The black and blue really brings out the color of your eyes.” 

Before Colt can apologize for his abruptness, though, Michael strolls to the cabinets and starts opening up drawers at random. “But since we’re best friends—” He waits for Colt’s correction that never comes. “—I guess I’ll do you a solid.” 

Colt gets permission to leave the infirmary before dinner is served in the mess hall. He only stops by the Magath’s office to receive a new armband before heading to the front gates to sign out. 

He’s got one hour’s worth of your time in money in his left pocket, and a bottle of bruise ointment in his right. He hopes you’re free.

Three soft taps against the door have you looking up. You don’t dare to hope that the soldier is visiting you, for the third time this week — in a row, no less! — but the more time he spends with you, the stronger the urge to dream gets. 

You smile when you see that it’s him, and it immediately fades when you take a closer look. This time, you’re the one standing up, quick to approach him.

“Oh my— What happened?” Your arm comes up, ready to reach for his face, to examine his bruised face even closer, but you quickly snap it back to your side. He hasn’t tried to touch you in the two times you’ve met. Maybe he has an aversion to being touched. You reluctantly take a step back.

(Colt flinches. You chalk it up to pain; he thinks he must look pretty disgusting right now, horrific even, to have you scared to be near him.)

“Don’t worry. It looks worse than it actually is.”

You frown. It causes the most adorable crease between your brows. Yet another image to store away in his memories. 

“Actually, I just wanted to come by to bring you something.”

“No. You don’t have to buy me gifts. Please—”

“I don’t mind. I enjoy giving them to you.” Not to mention that they’re technically stolen , not bought, but the Marleyan government can afford it. If his face is going to get banged up, one tube of ointment should be fair compensation. He places it in your waiting hands, the tips of his fingers brushing against the palms of your hands.

Electrifying. 

“This is…” You read the label. 

“Helps with bruises. Fades them, strengthens the skin, helps with a quicker recovery. I figured it would be something you would like.” The more he rambles, the more he thinks that maybe this was a mistake. It’s his face, isn’t it? He should have waited for the swelling to go down, for the bruises to heal up on their own, before showing up here. He probably looks more beast than human right now. 

“Come lay down on the bed.” You say, and then, minding your manners, “Please.”

His brain short circuits. The concussion surely doesn’t help. You look up at him, doe-eyed and too pretty to be real, too pretty for his imagination to come up with, and you ask him again. “Please?”

Whatever you want — that’s what he told you.

Like a good soldier, he obeys the order given. He’s too tall — perhaps the bed too small — so he has to awkwardly maneuver his body on the stiff mattress. His feet are dangling on the edge, and there’s barely any room for you to sit on the mattress. Your body is pressed against his own, the two of you swapping warmth with each other. 

You untwist the cap of the tube, applying a small amount of ointment on the tip of your finger before pressing the same finger to the bruised part of his face. 

“Is this okay?” You whisper to him. 

Your touch is gentle, soft, comforting. Far nicer than he deserves. The nicest he’s even been treated, he thinks. This is better than okay, better than great. 

He feels his eyelids drooping before he gives in and shuts his eyes altogether. “Yes.” He breathes out. 

You apply the ointment everywhere, slowly, carefully, trying not to apply too much pressure out of fear of sending a shock of pain to him. His breathing gradually evens out. 

“All done.” You say it so quietly, it’s almost undetectable. He doesn’t do anything in response, and you realize that he must have fallen asleep. 

You take the time to admire his face. He’s got a bandage on his forehead, a tiny, red line peeking out that indicates this cut was much longer than what one bandage could cover up. There are two different bruises forming on each of his cheeks, making your own look like a poor imitation of what a bruise should look like. You don’t know what possesses you to take your hand and run your fingers through his hair. It’s coarser than it looks, remnants of hair gel still stuck on some strands. Your soldier looks worse for wear, and obviously he’s exhausted. 

So why did he go out of his way to bring you this ointment? You touch your own bruise, tracing the shape of it. He must’ve seen it. He didn’t ask questions, and that’s fine, because you probably wouldn’t have given him an answer, anyway. He must have known you wouldn’t say anything. 

You know he walked here, too. It’s not a short trip from the military base to this side of town, nor is it an easy journey, either. 

You continue to play with his hair, feeling your eyes get wet the longer you stare at him. What is the matter with him? Why does he do this? Why do you have to beg him to come to bed? Why does he take the trip to see you, spends money, brings you little things that no one else would think to get you, just to get nothing in return? It would be easier to know what to do with him if he were like any other man. Why won’t he ask you for something, anything? 

“Oh, Colt.” You whisper. Your thumb brushes against the bandage on his forehead. When he wakes up, you wonder if you’ll muster up the courage to ask him what happened. 

His eyes flutter open, looking dazed at first until his vision becomes clear. There’s a small smile on his face. 

“Is this a dream?” He asks, voice sounding scratchy, like the words are scraping against his throat. 

“No, not a dream, soldier. Go back to sleep.” 

“Huh. But I thought I heard my name.” He mutters. He blinks. His body is telling him to go back into his peaceful slumber, but maybe the time he spends with Porco is making his traits rub off onto him. Colt finds enough stubbornness to fight his own body to stay awake. “Prove to me this isn’t a dream.” 

How can someone look so confident, so strong, when they’re lying on a cheap bed, bruised and tired? How can someone look so handsome, despite it all? 

You think you’re going to do something dangerous. You just have to summon the courage to do so. One look at the hopeful expression on your soldier’s bruised face, and you know that if he can brave whatever happened to him, you can finally just give in.

“It’s not a dream, Colt.” 

He has to be dreaming, he decides. His name has never sounded sweeter. 

You lean down, your face just centimeters from his own. Your lips, so close to his ear. He’s dreaming, he’s dreaming, he’s dreaming — he doesn’t ever want to wake up. To whichever higher power is listening, please don’t let him wake up.

“If this was a dream, I wouldn’t be able to tell you this.” 

You whisper your name into his ear, and he is aware that this is not a dream. This is real life. This is you, so close to him, telling him your name. He greedily snatches it up, repeats your name over and over in his mind. Then, with his eyes closing, quickly giving in to his exhaustion, he says your name.

He’s out cold.

a/n: if you made it this far, thank you!!! a like and even just a simple comment would really make my day, but i know colt grice only has 2 fans (me being one of them), so i'm not expecting much. if you read precipice, you will look back on this fic and go "oh my gosh, it's a cameo from one of my favorite characters!!!" bc nothing screams self-indulgent fan fiction more than creating ur own lil universe within canon, with ur equally delusional friend <3

[dreamii-krybaby]

Behold my essay on why plp shouldn’t be sleeping on the ship involving Doll’s parents.

Ok ok but like- ISTG doll’s folks are driving me crazy HNNNGNGNFJF

(Btw watch of all if this get absolutely ripped to pieces by future canon)

Even we have very few info of Yeva, in the pictures she has appeared she looks distressed, paranoid, anxious and doesn’t seem to have the same social skills and relaxed vibes as Nori. She gives me the impression she was recluse, shy even or standoff-ish

For all we know she could have a drastic change of character after the core collapse.

What am saying girlie definitely developed all kinds of fucked up issues.

ok but like the fact that Yeva decided to stay and live with and make a family with her parter got me thinking

Like girl witnessed and lived THE HORRORS and if my theory is correct, she ALSO got momentarily possessed by the AS causing the Site-48 “incident”. (Which I theorize she created a massive black hole on the site similar to how the AS controlling Uzi’s hand did it on the elevator in EP6)

Her first meeting with her-now-husband was literally traumatizing and was probably very awkward (group photo after the core colapse in EP4)

They saw something, and it wasn’t good news.

But after that, like- how did it go down?

Bc I speculate Yeva’s husband knows a bit more surrounding the AS:

-like I mentioned before, his overall expression in the group picture shown in EP4 post core collapse alongside Yeva’s expression seems to imply they saw or witnessed smth horrifying around the camp 98.7 which left them scarred

-the fact that Tessa’s quote in EP6 implies the idea that he is also infected (Either he may be a runaway experiment or he wasn’t necessarily involved with CFL and somehow had the AS, or maybe the quote is a red herring)

“She reckons the humans did something to her folks down there, gave them a sickness she inherited”.

Like, the idea that her partner saw past the horrors, the AS, the shady things Yeva was involved, and just- decided to be a couple, and saw yeva…as an individual, not a danger, not a monster, not a sinner, not some lab rat, just, her, a sentient being capable of feeling just as he is.

He saw her as “Yeva”, not as “048”, not someone whose just her “sickness”

Like the fact that YEVA was also to look past her traumas and her knowledge of the danger of the AS to live and become her partner’s wife

Just the idea of them going, “you know what? I want you as my partner, live in a place that we can call home, and raise our own kid”

Its just- *screams*

also Yeva would actually be introduced to the concept of home, not a house, a home

SHE FINALLY HAD SOMETHING SHE COULD CALL A HOME

AND SHE ACTUALLY HAD A PERSON WHERE SHE COULD PROBABLY FEEL COMFORTABLE AROUND (we don’t know exactly how Nori’s and Yeva’s relationship went, they could have gone through drastic changes)

SHE COULD FINALLY LIVE, NOT SURVIVE, SHE COULD JUST- LIVE, NOT HAVING FIGHT FOR HER SURVIVAL

CAN YOU JUST IMAGINE THE FACT THESE TWO DESPITE THE HORRORS, DESPITE THE AS, DESPITE EVERYTHING THEY FELL FOR EACHOTHER AND THEY GOT TO THE POINT THEY WANTED A KID?!?!? BE A FAMILY?!?!? HAVE A PLACE TO LIVE TOGETHER!??!?

AND WHEN THEY WENT OUTSIDE BEFORE DEATH THEY DECIDED TO GO TOGETHER!?!?!? (If my theory that they died outside is true)

THEY PROBABLY KNEW THE DANGER BUT THEY WENT “we’re gonna do this together” THEY COULD HAVE LOWER THE CHANCES OF RISK AND DEAL WITH THE UPCOMING FUCKED UP SHIT ON THEIR OWN BUT THEY WENT TOGETHER

LOOK ME IN THE EYES AND TELL ME THAT ISNT LOVE

(Imagine if it’s later revealed that they are actually a super fucked up couple- or just created a family for any other reason but wasn’t out of sentiment)

Me when I realize my favorite ship that is actually canon has barely any content or fan-content:

I want to claim myself as CEO of this goddam ship if it blows up in the fandom after future canon info.

Bc bro I shipped them when there wasn’t a single edit of them and when there was like 1 or maybe even 0 fanfics of them on AO3. Bro there wasn’t even fanart of them.

Bro I have doodles of them, created AU’s involving them, I have made moodboards, stimboards, have made HCs of them, made fan desings and plan to make fanart of them.

I am so normal about them I swear-

[banquetwriter]

this flopped the first time so i’m reposting. rick grimes nsfw alphabet lmk if y’all want other characters or sfw version !!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

tbh he is very sleepy and giggly almost? if he is comfortable enough to HAVE sex he is definitely giddy afterwards. we see this at the cdc when him and Lori fuck in the shower. he is very kind to you and def cleans you up afterwards 🤭🤭 he is def filling a glass of water and getting you some food. and forget it if YOU make him food after sucking his soul out this man will go on his hands and knees and eat you instead.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

on you/ partners i think it’s like your torso, not necessarily your tits (🤭) but like your hips to your collar bones. that’s where your heart and lungs are so he can see and hear you being alive, plus he would love to rub his hands up and down your body while kissing your neck. i think for himself rick would be really proud of his arms, he likes to wield an axe for so long and is a fit guy so his arms are big or at least really toned.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

i think deep down he would love cream pies, just watching his seed slowley ooze out of your body. but he knows that’s not always safe to do especially in the world you live in, so a second best is your hips area. as far as your cum is concerned he wants it in his mouth asap. he would DRINK that shi 🙏🏻🙏🏻 he can’t deny your fluid flushing on his cock is hot too tho

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he really likes it when you act all innocent-housewife-bimbo (obviously he likes strong women and would prefer you to be strong 95% of the time.) but having you be all fake innocent would send him nuts, just teasing him while cooking in short clothes, or pretending to “clean” his pants by getting on your knees and rubbing. he would never outright tell you he likes it but you can def tell when you do that he loves it

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

we know canonically he has done s t u f f with other girls before from his convo with shane. he didn’t go very far with it, but i’m assuming he wasn’t a virgin when he married lori. they get married super young so i think it was just one another girl he had been with. probably somthing like in highschool or right before meeting lori. and since he did have a wife for many years before you he would know a lot about female bodies even if they aren’t all the same, i think he would have a few tricks he knows 🤭🤭 he wouldn’t care how experienced you were tho. as long as you love him and only him that’s all that mattered to him, unless your ex lover was with the group he would get hella jelly

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

i’m gonna say missionary but not in a vanilla way really if that makes sense? like i think being able to see his dick just disappear in your hole (yes you can get it in the back hole in missionary) he would love to have your legs around his neck as he held them with his arms being able to fuck you even deeper. i would also see him loving holding your hands during more intimate sex. as much as he hates to admit it he IS insecure about stuff including his relationship (lori and shane stuff yk :< ) so being able to hold your hand would reaaallllyyyy heal him

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

i don’t think he is super goofy during sex, like i don’t think he is necessarily making jokes but if you do or something funny happens he would def laugh and crack that beautiful smile of his. i think before and def after he would make some snide jokes or somthing just bc he feels hella proud of benign able to fuck you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

carpet def match the drapes, as he gets older and grays more they def wouldn’t match as well as he ages but that doesn’t matter a lot tbh. as far as amount of hair he doesn’t have like a ton on his chest or back or anything but def has a happy trail. ofc since he is in the apocalypse he is NOT shaven a lot of the time but i think ever so once n a while he trims yk? makes sure it’s decent looking. he does not give a FUCK wether or not you shave. he is used to girls (and boys yk🤭) shaving but he will care if you choose not to bc like he is gonna go ravage on you.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

i can see him being kinky and intimate. i think he would def love to choke and fuck you roughly and stuff but i can also see him just needing you. to again hold your hand and take you sllloooowww. he definitely a big kisser and would love to just cum inside you as he would bassicly attach himself to your face. rick is a very loving person and that would def reflect in your sex lives.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

i don’t think he has ever been the type to jack off a lot even when he was a teen it just wasn’t somthing he did allll the time. i think he def did it. I mean who doesn’t really ? especially when his and lori’s relationship starts to fall apart pre-apocalypse he would do it more since they probably weren’t too eager to give carl a sibling lol. and also until the prison he probably wouldn’t, but yk after he gets some walls and a safe place he would do it as a stress reliever.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

definitely choking, whether it was rough or more like slow and soft he needs his hands on your throat. it’s just a big display of dominance he craves to show over not only you but anyone else. he is a pretty possessive guy with his stuff (including you) and he isn’t about to let anyone take you away, not that you would let them rick is a fierce partner hehe

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

def in a house and by that i mean every surface in his house 🤭 the table, counter, couch, bed, and shower it doesn’t matter. ofc since the walkers and stuff you guys don’t have a safe place to do it half the time i think at night whenever you two could maybe do some mouth stuff would just have to do. he wasn’t willing to leave the group for privacy he cares too much but nothing is gonna get in between him and his person. i think on runs would be the only time you two could really go at it go at it and even then it was much more a quickie than a full love making session until y’all got to the prison and alexandria ofc.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

ik it sounds cheesy but just the thought of you being HIS and no one else’s does a LOT for him trust. seeing you read to baby judith or teaching carl how to do somthing really gets this man thinking. ofc seeing you being a fucking badass you are out in the world also does somthing to him. and ngl i think this man has a slight brat tamer thing so you being sassy would also give him the perfect opportunity to be dominate 😾

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

absolutely anything that had to do with bodily fluids that weren’t like cum and spit. that means i don’t think he would be into blood or anything. like i said he is rough but he isn’t violent yk? doesn’t behind some bruises from his grip or an occasional slap. and maybe the odd scratch on you (but he would much prefer scratches on his own back not yours) so anything really violent he has seen enough of that for a lifetime he doesn’t want to genuinely hurt you ever even if you asked.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

ok obviously rick would love it if you went down on him. mouth slobbering all over his cock as your head dipped down. it however was not his favortire thing ever. he would never ever say no but he would much rather his face be underneath you. or you on the counter legs spread, or underneath you when your supposed to be cooking. i would say yes for oral but prefers giving than receiving it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

so i’ve already talked a lot about this i think he would love rough sex, i think he would would prefer it slower- that definitely doesn’t mean he wouldn’t love to ram into you as fast as he can lol. i just think for the majority of the time slower is more his speed no matter how rough he is being with you. but i think his lovey side does come out more when you two have had a DAY n he just wants some good old loving from you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

it’s usually all you two can get it half the time but i think when he is younger he prefers non-quick releases. although the older he gets especially in alexandria and after even into the crm he is waaaaaay more into them. if you know each other in crm i can imagine making you suck him off in gear before training. i think rick becomes a very different person later in life and that makes him a bit meaner when it comes to stuff.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

i think he is willing to take some risks but NOTHING that would ever leave his group in harm including you, i mean his kids are in the group yk? so nothing that would leave them alone or unprotected really. i also don’t think he is super into other objects either, he wouldn’t care if you liked to use toys but i think he prefers giving you pleasure than something else yk? i think silk or rope would be fine for tying you up but no paddles or anything really yk? i’m rambling but i think he would think about anything you asked but maybe not actually do most of them.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he is a really strong guy and even when he gets older i don’t think that will affect his stamina a super ton until he really starts getting up there in age yk? that being said i don’t think his sex staminism would be that big just bc i think after ljke maybe 3 rounds he wants to relax and cuddle with you <3 but he cannot resist you begging him for something which includes you asking and begging for more. he is more than comfortable to give you as many orgasms as he can physically. ik it sounds crazy but 7 and he absolutely done. he is seeing white and stars at that point and as much as he loves you, he cannot go further 😭😭

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

again like no basically 😭😭 again if you asked him he would def use them on you but probably NOT for very long and would use them as punishment tbh. ik that’s not exactly what most people wanna hear but he also like doesn’t use them either 🫡🫡

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

oh he LOVES being teased lemme tell you. he would love your soft “innocent” touches. bending over etc etc. he would love your teasing so fucking much, and even better what he gets to do about your teasing. now i don’t he would do it often but when he does tease you rick grimes is one cheeky mf. maybe taking his shirt off when doing some of his gardening 👀 a possible lick of his lips 👀 perhaps a little fingers up your shirt 👀 little does he know everything he does turn you on

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

I think he would LOVE you making sounds of any kind. but moaning his name would drive him a new kind of crazy 😭 as far as he goes he is definitely a grunt-er a few moans when he cums but as far as noises when he finally pushes into you and finishes are the most noise he makes. as far as talking and stuff i think he would love talking you through it. i think it’s mostly for his benefit seeing your eyes go glossy and dumb as his praise.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

one time and only once he watched you change one time before you two were any sort of official. he did not mean to intrude and god did he feel awful about doing it but you had your back turned and he saw your back and ass completely naked and it turned him on more than he cares to admit. before that he had obviously noticed your beauty and skill but that’s the moment when he could no longer handle staying away from you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

rick is average sized guy on the shorter side and i think he would also have an averaged sized member as far as length would go. girth ways i think he is a little thicker than normal, no reall curve you can see even when he is hard yk? i can see his cock being darker in color than some others not from being dirty but just naturally yk? he had a lot of muscles even if he isn’t like “built” like daryl or tyrese or sum. he has a strong tummy tho which you love to kiss and it actually makes him fall so in love with you.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

so since he is a full grown man he isn’t like a horny teenager he wouldn’t be like foaming 24/7 and especially since he is a leader and leads a very scary stressful life he wouldn’t be super horny a lot yk? that doesn’t mean he DOESNT get turned on by you on runs and stuff but like he isn’t thinking about it all the time. but the more you too get serious the more he wants you. i think it’s his deep primal need to have his kids protected that drives him bc like seeing you protect his family that’s now your family oh lord i hope you have a pack of condoms ready.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

so like i said he isn’t like too many rounds with you so after the normal like 3 he would def prioritize cleaning you up then himself then honk shooooo for this old man fr. i think he would def wake up in the middle of the night bc he is used to not getting sleep so he would wake up to see you in his shirt and he would just silently stroke your cheek and just admire you :)

[bunitivity]

I don't know if you've answered something similar but do you have any ZoLuSanUso headcanons for when they're sick? (Let's ignore canon for a moment, I know none of these monsters actually ever get sick, but that's no fun! We want angst, and hurt and comfort!)

No I’ve not lol but sure I can give some hcs. Out of the four of them I feel like Usopp would be the most likely to say anything if he got sick followed by Luffy and then Sanji and then Zoro who I believe wouldn’t even know if he was sick. He would just say something like I’ve been feeling weaker lately better up my training and then train harder like an idiot.

Sanji would be coming over with some refreshments and be like wait you’re breathing weird and you’re all red are you okay?/that’s what happens when you train maybe you should try it some time and then before Sanji has a chance to give a scathing respond Zoro just fkn collapses in front of everyone. Luffy would be fkn inconsolable thinking he’s dying bc anything that can fell someone like Zoro must be fatal and Usopp tries to explain that it’s just his hubris catching up to him and this is what happens when you train shirtless in the fucking cold.

Zoro would be the worst sick person bc he’d insist he’s fine and try to sneak out of the infirmary any chance he gets which is why it’s a good thing he has three boyfriends who can take shift to prevent that from happening. Though they don’t really need to take shifts bc Luffy won’t leave his side and is there under the covers with him fiercely holding him which was fine at first until it becomes too hot and it gets uncomfortable. Zoro is dying but would rather die before saying anything so it’s Sanji who has to break it to Luffy.

“You know I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing I’ve heard the easiest way to get rid of a fever is to sweat it,” Usopp points out.

Luffy’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Usopp darling my love,” Sanji pinches his nose. “I love you but please don’t encourage this. At this rate they’re both going to get sick and then we’ll have two ppl to take care of.”

“And here I thought you’d do anything for the people you love,” Zoro opens up the blanket. “Are you really going to let something like a measly cold stop you?”

Sanji sees the space Zoro opens up for him and the way Luffy looks so snuggly by his side and takes a step towards them and almost falls for it until Usopp snatches his wrist. Zoro clicks his tongue.

Usopp sighs. “God you’re so easy. I can’t believe you’d let him bait you like that.”

Sanji flushes. “What? No! I wasn’t going to fall for it! I was just going to check his temperature and nothing else!”

“Sure babe,” Usopp says. “Sanji you’re the cook you’re the last person we need getting sick please don’t let this idiot tempt you.”

“Yeah which is why Usopp should join us!” Luffy rises in the bed and grabs Usopp’s hand. “Double the people means Zoro would get better even faster!”

And then he drags him into bed.

“Wait Luffy! Ugh Zoro you’re so sweaty! Gross!”

Zoro just smiles before plastering himself all over Usopp making it that much worse. “Oi stop that! I fucking hate you!”

Zoro hums “sure” while Luffy just laughs. “Don’t worry Usopp you’ll get used to it.”

“That’s the last thing I want!”

“Wait wait wait,” Sanji interrupts their tomfoolery. “If Usopp sleeps here then who am I sleeping with tonight??”

“That’s what you’re worried about? This idiot is trying to infect me with his stupid germs and that is what you’re most worried about??”

“It just gets so lonely~”

“You’ll just have to figure that out because it’s already too late for Usopp I’m afraid,” Zoro kisses Usopp’s cheek and then looks up at him through his lashes. “But the offer still stands.”

“Well-“

“Sanji!”

“Okay fine! I’ll just sleep all by myself in our big stupid bed while the three of you get to cuddle here all warm and happy.”

He does not do that and just ends up sleeping on the infirmary floor because he’s an idiot and he occasionally reaches out to touch Usopp’s hand that’s dangling over the side of the bed because he’s crazy like that.

Of course the next ones who get sick are Luffy and Usopp. It doesn’t happen right away it doesn’t even hit them at the same time. Luffy is the one who goes down first because he’s the one who spent the most time with Zoro and unlike Usopp he was willing to kiss Zoro while he was sick because he genuinely didn’t believe he would get it but he does.

Luffy does not like getting sick. Does not like how weak it makes him feel and most of all how lonely it is when his boyfriends or friends aren’t there to keep him company. Reminds him too much of being small and being sick and alone because Ace went out to hunt and he couldn’t go with him. And now he’s thinking about Ace which is a whole bag worms and fuck being alone with his thoughts like this is just torture.

So he gets extra clingy because he can’t stand being alone. And of course his boyfriends indulge him holding his hand and talking to him to distract him to keep the bad thoughts at bay.

“I’m sorry,” he’ll tell Sanji. “I should have listened to you. If had none of this would have happened. It’s okay you can go back to work I’ll be okay.”

Sanji would normally chastise him but he hears the vulnerability in his voice and just squeezes his hand and then brings it to his lips. “Nonsense, my love. I’ll stay with you until you feel better.”

Luffy tears up a bit. “Even if you get sick?”

“Even if I get sick.”

Usopp would make a makeshift bed out of chairs and lay down so they’re at the same eye level and it feels like they are on the same bed even if they aren’t and reaches across the vast distance to hold his hand and make him laugh with his stories some fantastical some real(albeit exaggerated) about the things he has missed. Luffy will listen with rapt attention until he dozes off. Sometimes Usopp will fall asleep holding his hand and Zoro and Sanji have to come collect him.

Some nights Zoro will sneak in after the two others have fallen asleep. Just to watch over him and if Luffy is awake he’ll wrap him up in some sheets from head to toe to prevent himself from getting sick again and then cuddles him to sleep. Luffy is so happy despite how stuffy and uncomfortable it is. Just happy not to be alone.

——————

Sanji is just in the kitchen making breakfast one morning when Usopp comes up behind him and wraps his arms around him and rests his head on his shoulder. “Sanji I think I’m getting sick.”

“You too??” He checks his forehead and sure enough Usopp’s burning up. “You guys are going down like flies. But before we tell Chopper give me one final kiss.”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea.” Then he laughs at the downtrodden look on Sanji’s face and kisses him. “Guess it’s fine I don’t think it’s that serious anyway.”

It’s that serious and he ends up joining an overjoyed Luffy in the infirmary. Hurray a sick buddy!

“I really do not like how happy you are that I’m sick. Feels like a red flag.”

“What?? I’m not happy you’re sick I’m happy we’re sick together!”

“Diabolical.”

“I’ll show you diabolical!” Then he just starts kissing him all over.

Sanji is just distraught that they’re both sick now. “I haven’t gotten any Luffy kisses in so long.” Okay maybe that’s not the only thing he’s distraught about but still!

“No one’s stopping you.”

“Shut up Marimo this is all your fault! If you’d just learn to wear a shirt none of this would have happened!”

“Oh please you love it when I don’t wear a shirt.”

“When it’s hot out! …wait did you just say nothing is stopping me?” Sanji’s eyes go wide. “Don’t tell me you have been making out with Luffy this entire time!”

“What moron would do that!”

Then they get kicked out of the infirmary for being too loud.

It hits Usopp a lot harder than the other two. Because unlike his boyfriends he’s just regular person and whatever felled them straight up knocks him out. He’s delirious and barely conscious for the most of it which makes the others quite distressed. Especially Luffy who is the closest to him(proximity wise) and who ends up seeing the worst of it. He will try and talk to Usopp but only gets short responses back and sometimes they aren’t even coherent and make no sense. This just makes him even more distressed which leads to Luffy staying up all night despite also being sick and needing his rest just to watch Usopp sleep afraid that if he falls asleep Usopp will just stopped breathing. No matter how much Chopper reassures him Usopp will be fine there will be this tiny voice at the back of his head whispering what if and he just can’t risk it.

Even after Luffy gets better he’ll lie and say he is still sick just so he isn’t forced to leave. He’ll wrap around him several times cocooning him in his arms in the dead of night whispering in Usopp’s ear to please not leave him he couldn’t bear to lose anyone else. And then sigh a breath of relief when he feels Usopp squeeze him back.

Sanji is just as bad as him staying up late at the infirmary not leaving until Zoro has to physically lift him and carry him out. He redoubles his efforts whipping up dish after dish that he hopes will help. Zoro often have to force to take a break. Zoro is worried too but unlike Luffy and Sanji he knows restraint(when it concerns others that are not him lol) so he ends up looking Sanji so he doesn’t overwork himself and ends up bedridden too. Two sick people are already bad enough.

Once he gets him in bed Sanji would still stay up worrying and confiding in Zoro that he’s afraid that they may not get better alluding but not outright telling him about his mother’s illness. She had been looked a lot better than Usopp and she still died and so what if the same happened to either Luffy or Usopp?? Then were would he be? Just all alone with stupid Marimo he would say all while burying his face in Zoro’s chest trembling. “Don’t be stupid they’re a lot stronger than some stupid cold they’ll both be fine In no time especially after you made that dish? What was it called again?”

He will try to distract by making him talk about those legendary dishes he learned from Iva until he falls asleep.

Zoro who’s usually so unflappable ends up infected by all Luffy’s and Sanji’s anxious energy and just ends up feeling useless since there’s nothing he can do but watch over Luffy and Usopp while they sleep and helping Luffy get out of his spirals once the waiting gets to be too much.

But because Sanji can’t be stopped(Zoro is too m he just isn’t as vocal about it) they end up sleeping in the infirmary too. Making a makeshift bed on the floor much to Chopper’s chagrin.

Usopp wakes up early one morning finally released from the ravages of his fever to see his three boyfriends in the room with him. Luffy clutching his waist and Sanji holding his hand which has started cramping from the impractical position. He looks up and makes direct eye contact with Zoro who smiles with heavy eye bags under his eyes and says “took you long enough.”

Usopp reaches out and touches his face and brings it closer so he can kiss it. “Thank you for waiting.”

There’s a little bit of a celebration once the other two wake up and everything is right with the world.

Until Sanji gets sick.

“And this is why I said you shouldn’t work so hard stupid cook.”

“Are we cursed? Is this why this keeps happening?? Feels like we’re stuck in a bad dream!”

“Don’t be stupid this is because Sanji was stupid and worked himself sick.”

“Maybe so but-Luffy!”

Luffy stops where he had been crawling into bed into Sanji’s outstretched arms who’s crooning sweet nothings to him.

“What? You can’t get sick twice from the same cold. I stayed with you even after I got better and I’m feeling just fine.”

“That cannot possibly be true.”

“You gotta admit he has a point.”

“I do not want to hear that from you patient 0. I blame you for all of this.”

Zoro just shrugs and makes Sanji scooch over.

But because there was no one there to correct them and both Zoro and Sanji agreed with Luffy outvoting Usopp 3-1 he had to let it happen. And to no one’s surprise they all got sick again.

[conspicuous-clown-car]

Hi, this is Cardhamine (commented on your post about your character's similarity to Gregory). You didn't ask my advice/thoughts but here they are -

I've been designing characters a long time, and I've been on the internet a long time, and many people refuse to apply context to what they encounter. To me, your character design is very obviously not Gregory even at a first look based on outfit alone. In linearts, their hair has more volume/length than Gregory's. Even people who are colorblind should be able to identify that difference. Also, since when does Gregory canonically enjoy being around the DCA? So just by context someone would know to take a second look and identify what's going on in the context of the art piece.

If they're giving you crap about it, it might be intentional bc it gives them a rush to give someone grief online. Or they have the passive and active perception of a rock - no harm meant there. Either way, their opinion about the artwork is... not necessarily super useful. If they don't take 20 more seconds to accurately evaluate the context of a piece, I wouldn't give them more than 20 seconds of your brainpower caring about their comment.

That said, when this has happened to me before, I just added some obvious identifiable thing that the 100% Canon character wouldn't wear/do with their appearance. Like a hair star barrette? But your character wears a specific employee uniform in a lot of art, so whoever isn't getting it seems unlikely to get it then, too. :/

bro THANK YOU

i literally had to delete the tiktok and reupload it hours later with color because of how many people mistook it for gregory, and this has happened so often in the past that i expected it, but the amount of people who didn’t take the time to use critical thinking skills before commenting “IS THAT GREGORY?” and genuinely saying shit like “oh thank god i thought sun was into minors” pissed me off so bad i got a headache 💀

i really did everything i could to make sure they didn’t look like gregory, i put context in the caption AND i made sure to tell them it wasn’t a child in the comments, but people are still commenting “i almost had a heart attack i thought it was gregory” which i think is obnoxious when this many people are saying it

i hate sounding like an asshole and i hate being mad at people but holy shiiiit dude, im genuinely concerned for these people

[emry-stars-art]

I’m wondering (and not sure if this has been talked about yet in a post I simply missed) about how Abram copes with Andrew’s physical affections (or lack thereof) in your lovely royal AU. With the history behind ‘pretty’ that you described for Abram in that last post, I feel like there is so much potential of him expecting to be touched, even before they are courting (but especially during/after), and wondering why Andrew doesn’t—especially once it’s established that he thinks of Abram as ‘pretty’. They are of different station so it would be so easy for Andrew to act entitled to Abram’s body like so many before, especially with Abram in a position where he’s basically serving him in some way. I wonder if it makes him relieved (due to professionalism/personal comfort at the very beginning) or anxious (due to having no ability to tell what is coming for him/later due to doubting if he is really wanted that way if Andrew doesn’t act the same as his point of reference) or a little bit of both for different reasons.

I imagine Andrew to be both a very tactile person and not necessarily so because he is so very aware of boundaries and only crosses them with invitation or purpose. I wonder how that translates here and how his touch plays into how Abram perceives him (and honestly there’s the whole part too where it’s something they have in common, trampled boundaries and bad associations and bone-deep understanding of such) or if they would ever have a conversation about that where Abram wonders about the curtesy of distance and space he is being given.

I’m like two seconds from passing out bc it’s pretty late here so idk how much sense this ask really makes but I’m having thoughts. I love your AU and your work and hope you have a wonderful day <3

YOU GUYS ALWAYS FIND THE MOST INTRIGUING THINGS TO EXPLORE I LOVE YOU (and your comments/etc, apostrophe-philosophy, are always a joy to read hehe)

(First: find the royal au writing masterpost here 💕)

I’ve been working on/thinking about this ask long enough that I’ve straight up forgotten if this was a thought I had when writing that first post (here) or if you brought it fully to my attention but we can safely assume it’s the latter so thank youuuuu for that truly. I love exploring Abram’s slow inch (and Andrew’s, but he’s had more time to get adjusted) towards finding a healthy relationship with touch 🥲 and oh my GOD don’t let me forget to tell all of you about Abram and gloves

I wrote a scene/lil collection of scenes about Andrew clearing things up here too because I’ve been wanting to explore Abram’s POV for a while 👀 there are references to canon abuse, so take care. As always, sparknotes version and additions below

I LOVE your points about Andrew, I totally agree that once it’s established and he’s allowed, he’s very much a tactile person, he just needs to get there first 💕

We all know for obvious reasons that it never once crosses the prince’s mind for Abram to be anything more than a professional bodyguard, even if he does find him attractive. He’s very good at courtesy and polite distance. How I imagine this goes down in the timeline is this:

1) Nathaniel shows up at Palmetto and he’s never allowed close to important people. Certainly never allowed close enough to touch. Totally safe there. It doesn’t take him long to understand Day really won’t take advantage of him since he never did in Evermore either, so that’s safe. There’s not much else to worry about for that long stretch of time.

2) Nathaniel/Abram becomes the prince’s guard. There’s probably a little anxiety just because there’s plenty of opportunities for the prince to try something, but as time goes on and Andrew keeps the previously mentioned distance, even acting apathetic (as he does), Abram starts to assume that the prince is straight/doesn’t care. It wasn’t as if every single person in Evermore was trying to get at him. Just the ones that wanted to. Obviously, the prince doesn’t want to. It gets to the point that Abram feels comfortable and doesn’t try to constantly watch his own back when he’s on duty.

Then the prince, perhaps feeling a little bold or hopeful or just wanting to say something so he doesn’t keep feeling like he’ll explode, makes a single comment on Abram’s “pretty face”. Even something that could be brushed off as friendly jest, if he really wanted. But Abram completely freezes up. Andrew, of course, notices. He doesn’t try to ask about it then, but he definitely notices. But he assumes that Abram took it as the genuine compliment it was, and that Abram is entirely uninterested or even wary of those advances. So he makes no more comments, he leaves the entire concept as far away as he can get it.

Now that Abram knows the prince finds him pretty, he’s just waiting for Andrew to be the same as everyone else. He didn’t even directly answer to the nobles in Evermore and they were still so bold - but he’s Andrew’s servant in the most direct way, and Andrew is a prince. Surely the prince is even more entitled to him than they were. (When he realizes this is what’s happening, Andrew tells Abram in no unclear terms exactly what is and isn’t expected of him. It takes longer than that for Abram to shake the anxiety he grew up with, but at least after that he can start repeating the prince’s words to himself when he needs to.)

3) that’s cleared up well enough, but then (much, much later) the prince wants to court him. At first Abram can’t think much beyond “there’s no way this is real” but then the more he thinks about it, the more nervous he gets again. He doesn’t know Palmetto courting traditions, what if he’s expected to do something he isn’t ready for. What if now that he’s accepted the courtship he can’t tell Andrew no anymore. It wouldn’t be fair of him to, he thinks, he shouldn’t have agreed so quickly.

But there’s a time they’re out doing whatever courtship things (maybe another horse ride for funsies idk), Abram’s getting nervous about it again, and when Andrew asks for a kiss or to hold his hand, Abram doesn’t answer. He’s also a little confused when Andrew doesn’t just do it anyway, because he hadn’t said no, but Andrew is watching him in the way that usually means Abram is acting too much like he’s at Evermore again. He tells Abram, “Nothing’s changed. You can say no.” And Abram does immediately - not because he doesn’t want whatever he was offered but because he scared himself. Andrew’s still watching him. “Don’t forget that again,” he says. Abram takes a shaky breath. “Yes, prince.”

But as soon as Abram’s past that anxiety for the second and probably final time? Andrew is still as tactile a person as before and gods know Abram is touch starved to hell and back, he’ll take any kind words or touches he can possibly get and he craves them. Specifically from the prince. Who loves to give them.

I’d love to come back and make a fluff post specifically about that point in the timeline if we can collectively come up with enough ideas for said fluff 🥰 for now thanks again for the ask, swear to GOD we’re gonna get these idiots a happy ending, but I’m having way too much fun in the meantime 😂

[danvillecheese]

the general audience versus the rest of us

this analysis is not to degrade anyone outside of or in the fandom, it’s simply to showcase how differently people remember phineas and ferb. there are a number of topics I will delve into, all of which are lovingly put into sections under the cut. so, with no further ado… enjoy!

how normal people watch it

so if you’re like me and watched pnf occasionally on tv growing up you’ll remember bits of the show. you’ll remember it’s repetitive and episodic nature, the way everything goes back to how it was at the start of the day. phineas and ferb think of something to do, candace attempts to bust them, perry fights doofenshmirtz, and doofs machine makes phineas and ferb’s invention disappear, sticking to the status quo of what linda typically sees. it’s predictable, but not in the sense that you necessarily know what’s going to happen. maybe you do, or something happens that subverts your expectations. the “typical phineas and ferb episode structure” (or TPNFES, I’m calling it that now) is how a lot of people who haven’t seen the show in a while will remember it. or maybe not. maybe they remember doof making an inator that does x. or they remember the aglet song (never forget ze aglet!). it’s typically something you’d have seen at least a couple of times during its original run.

and no, of course there’s no problem with only remembering one or two things about a show from your youth. I personally watched a lot of shows as a kid that I don’t remember a thing about. yeah I watched LazyTown when I was like four but if you asked me the plot of any episode I would NOT be able to tell you. and it’s because it wasn’t something I was really interested in. and of course, kids can be interested in shows and know a lot about them and then hit their teen years and not remember much about them later. but if they go back and absorb that content again? they see stuff they missed the first time, or stuff they definitly remember. hell, they might even sing along to A.G.L.E.T. because as everyone knows, pnf lyrics stay with you forever. (even if you haven’t heard the theme song in a decade you won’t forget the lyrics. that shit is hardwired into you from the moment you first see it.)

my point is, a casual viewer doesn’t do anything more than just… watch the show. hell, sometimes they don’t even watch it, they’ll have it on in the background while they’re on their phone or doing something else (couldn’t be me!!). watching the canon content just once gives them the satisfaction of starting and ending the show. they don’t go into detail about it. they probably won’t open an ao3 tab the moment the last episode finishes. they won’t make a tumblr sideblog dedicated to understanding the intricacies of character arcs, their goals and ideals and how they interact with others. they don’t care enough to do that bc it doesn’t make their brain go insane for more knowledge about the show. and as strange as it sounds, they don’t have it on their minds for that long. yeah, maybe theyll think about how nice the songs were in that s4 finale but after that, that’s it. they’ll move onto something else.

how I watched it

I watched phineas and ferb as a kid. I’m pretty sure I watched it when it first aired, too. perhaps not in 2007, it might have been the year after when it actually started premiering (nz airing is so far behind it’s not even funny). I watched it as it aired, and then grew out of it around the middle of s3. I got a little older, started watching different shows, and I was just generally doing other stuff. I have a vivid memory from 2012 when a kid from my class told me that pnf wasn’t worth watching bc the same thing happens every episode and my socially inept ass went “omg ur so right” and I stopped watching it. fast forward a couple of years and I hear that the show is like, actually finally ending. idk why but I remember it being in 2014, not 2015 when it actually did air (the pnf wiki doesn’t have the date for the nz airing of last day of summer so I guess we'll never know if it aired early or not) but I watched it and kinda just carried on with my other interests at the time.

around 2017, I start talking to an internet friend from the same country as me. we talked about our upbringings and stuff we used to watch on tv, and she brings up phineas and ferb. aha! I know that one! it encourages me to rewatch the show and before I know it, I’m shoulder deep. i mention facts about it to real life friends and family (“there’s a pnf episode where…”) and I go hunting for interviews and comic-con panels with the whole cast on youtube. you know how it is. I start going through the posts on tumblr and I find a sibling show of sorts – one that also has a crossover planned for 2018. I watch that show. I lurk in the shadows of the tumblr tag for a while. I start writing fic. I draw the characters on any piece of paper I can get my hands on.

it all comes to a head in october 2018, when I wrote a phinjeet fic called cappuccino, and one of my favourite artists EVER made fanart of it. and obviously, I had to put it somewhere. I’d thought about making a dwampy sideblog for ages and had no idea what to call it or anything, but this was all the encouragement I needed. I made the sideblog. I reblog the art. then I went through my likes and got some of the pnf/mml posts out. fast forward almost five years, and here we are. still just as insane, just with a new username.

in short — no, my experience watching pnf is not one of those typical of a general audience member. I mean, it would have been, if not for that fateful conversation with my internet friend that basically rebooted me and quite literally rewired my brain to be insane about this cartoon universe. I’m not by any means a casual viewer of this show. I know more than an average person would about it, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I adore this little community of ours. and being able to crack out of context jokes that come from the shows to older people who I know have never seen it, well, it’s a cherry on top.

both the GA and the fandom contribute to the culture staying alive

there’s certainly a way that the general audience keeps pnf alive, even if they have no idea they’re doing it. they’ll make very generic memes about it (you know the ones I’m talking about) and they’ll circulate the internet for a bit, reminding everyone about the show they watched casually as a kid. us, on the other hand, make very very niche memes about it. like hieroglyphics. and combovers. (see what I did there?) ours tend to stay in our little circulation, minus the ones that break containment. you get it in any fandom though, it’s certainly not limited to us.

as many times as you’ll see the posts that attempt to explain the ‘doof is phineas dad theory’, you’ll see just as many responses debunking it. or seeing dan and swampy debunk it, as they should. (honestly I think we need like crystal fucking clear evidence in the reboot to explain it otherwise it’s just gonna keep happening.)

the circulation of phineas and ferb itself through any means, be it memes or actual conversation that prompts a rewatch or even just a memory of the show, keeps the show relevant. I think one of the more notable ways this has happened is dan povenmire getting tiktok famous and basically reminding every older gen z kid about the show. to quote jeff swampy marsh – “plus there’s always reruns so the show will never die” – sure, disney channel itself barely exists anymore but reruns can also kinda be translated into disney+ rewatches or even just the passage of a meme on the internet.

phineas and ferb has stayed, somewhat, consistently relevant. I mean, think about it. since pnf started airing, there hasn’t been a year (except for 2021) where nothing has happened. pnf aired from 2007-2015, milo murphy’s law aired from 2016-2019 (which includes phineas and ferb characters so I count it as pnf content) and catu came out in 2020. dan’s own show hamster and gretel started airing in 2022, and based on the poster, I don’t think we’ll be missing any phineas and ferb characters at all. dan basically confirmed it. and truly, it’s what keeps the show alive, even when it’s not really there.

things in the show that the ga have very different opinions on, re:

candace and jeremy’s relationship

something the general audience haven’t caught up with yet is the way that candace and jeremy interact within the show. sure, if you haven’t watched it since you were 10 then you probably remember candace being like insane and loud about the boy she’s obsessed with. if you watch it again, you’ll see that jeremy is almost just as bad. it’s just downplayed because he’s not a main character. we don’t see his perspective NEARLY as much as we see candace’s, which might make it seem a bit more one sided or unrequited than it actually is.

in the episode “backyard aquarium” from early s2, we’re shown a montage of both candace and jeremy trying to ring each other for a whole day, until candace goes to bust her brothers and forgets about her phone for a little moment. this gives jeremy time to leave eleven messages for her. obsessed much? (it’s actually kinda sweet) and yeah, they’re teenagers. every feeling seems way more amplified than it actually is so both of them getting upset that they cant contact each other is pretty realistic, even if it is just played for laughs.

there’s a lot of really thorough characterisation when it comes to both of them. mostly with candace, obviously, she is THEE main character of the show so clearly she’s deep and very fleshed out. we don’t see it as much with jeremy but we get pretty good glimpses of it when it’s shown. he’s got the picture of her from “the bully code” in his guitar case. he likes her so much! he put her picture in the place he keeps one of his favourite things!! he’s down so bad for her! but of course, if you don’t actually pay attention or care especially about any of that stuff, you’re going to miss it and generalise about it. and it unfortunately applies to quite a few things in the show. sigh.

doof’s relationship with his parents

for real, fuck those guys. I think the ga are pretty aware of this part, and if you asked anyone to say what one of doofs backstories are they’d probably say “his parents didn’t show up for his birth!” or “he was a lawn gnome!”. both of which are specifically tied to his abhorrent relationship with his parents. but what they potentially don’t remember is how he still tries to gain their affections anyways. it’s the classic trope of not being able to cut off your abusers simply because you just can’t, morally. you still want to prove yourself to them and make them see you’re worth having around even if they never liked you in the first place. heinz tries very hard both in his youth and in the show itself to gain affection from both his mother and father. these include:

the teddy bear and trying to be good at kickball (thaddeus and thor)

the original gnome (fathers day)

even the fucking clip show episode from the end of season 3 (this is your backstory) where his mother comes back and he goes in for a hug and is instead greeted with a smack. hmm.

even just those examples are enough evidence that yes, heinz did actually really try with his parents even if they didn’t care. and again, it’s unfortunately played for laughs that heinz is constantly beaten down by almost everything around him but as we know, he gets a real family at the end of the show and things seem to work out well for him. does he get closure with both of his parents by the end of s4? maybe not his mother, but sort of with his dad. and yeah, maybe they’ll get into that in the reboot. but it’s definitely something the ga never noticed. it’s always about laughing at his tragic backstories, even if that is the point of them, not necessarily feeling bad for him and wanting to see him come full circle with everything that’s happened to him. and it does!

isabella and her one (1) personality trait

according to the ga, isabella garcia-shapiro is a one dimensional character who’s only personality trait is having tunnel vision heart eyes for the boy across the street. is your blood boiling yet? mine is! isabella is one of the most fleshed out characters in the show, with a large family and interests outside of phineas. hell, she’s the leader of her fireside girls troop which is a huge part of her personality. she’s brave and strong and gives ominous patch related threats to a man almost five times her age. but no, the general audience will only ever see isabella as the girl obsessed with phineas. I’m not discrediting this at all because yes, she’s obsessed with him. she’s a simp. definitely nothing wrong with that at all! but the ga claiming that it’s her only personality trait? get fucking REAL this girl is deep and gets upset and anxious and emotional about things that have nothing to do with the boy she’s in love with. even if it does have something to do with that, she carries on anyway because she’s strong as hell. it’s not the first time a character has been like that on disney channel — I mean, kim possible was pretty boy crazy but her crime fighting always came first, right? (really showing my age with that reference. wow) and I hate to reference act your age bc it’s vile but she doesn’t only ever spend her time moping over phineas as a teenager, she keeps herself busy and helps her mom at the restaurant and is an RA at her college and does a whole heap of other things! she’s multifaceted and it’s what makes her a really compelling character to watch. and watering her down into just the girl who likes phineas is a huge discredit to her character.

so, where am I going with this?

I’m not saying ever general audience member has to rewatch phineas and ferb a million times to understand every single character arc. hell, I’m not even saying that they have to rewatch it at all. there’s such a huge divide when it comes to it, and obviously not everyone is going to experience everything the same way. a lot of people simply don’t care enough to crack open the psyche of every phineas and ferb character to understand their motivations. that’s just the freaks (affectionate) who roam on tumblr, eager for media analysis of a childrens cartoon that ended almost a decade ago.

for a lot of us, it’s very satisfying to be able to analyse specific media. there’s writers and storyboard artists that put all that stuff in the show for a reason, right? it makes us want to see parallels and understand where a characters moral alignment sits and why exactly buford speaks latin. and for others, they’ll simply watch a show and move on. there’s no need for them for it to be on their brain 24/7.

overall, there’s a stark difference in the way people watch a show as iconic and culturally significant as phineas and ferb. the general audience watches it very differently to us, and that’s okay! it happens with any piece of media. there’s casual fans that watch something once and then the very not casual fans who have it on the brain constantly. and then there’s fans that have been very absorbed in the fandom and move on, which again, you’ll get anywhere. nothing about the dwampyverse fandom is limited to us, in terms of the way things go (not the source media itself. name one other show that has anything REMOTELY similar to pnf happen in it.) most people know the show, and most people don’t know about the insane and obscure facts about it, and I think it’s fantastic.

goodnight tri-state area. thank you.

[kori-xo]

MY MIGUEL REDEMPTION CARD PT. 1 😀

(OK LET ME JUST SAY FIRST THAT I AM SO SO SO SO SORRY FOR NOT WRITING THIS SOONER- I swear I didn’t forget, I’m just kinda sick rn and going through a writer’s crisis, but ANYWAYS-) 

=

Onto the topic of giving Miguel O’Hara a more in-depth reading and explanation for his actions, let me make one thing briefly clear. I am NOT excusing his actions, especially the ones of aggression towards Miles, as many think. I’m just simply stating some of the reasons as to why he did what he did, and to try and get others to see him as the “good guy who makes the wrong choices” kinda trope his character portrays.  

So, to begin, let’s start with his behavior towards Miles. 

Miguel has stated that Miles Morales is, in fact, the “original anomaly,” which is in a way true. Not the statement that he was a mistake, as it’s never okay to tell a child that, but I’m talking about the fact that Miles really wasn’t supposed to be Spider-Man, bc Miles from Earth-42 was supposed to have that role. 

I don’t think he necessarily meant it in a mean manner, bc let’s face it, the man has SEVERE anger issues

ALSO in regards to the fact that Miguel was not initially too aggressive with Miles. Imo, he could’ve just locked Miles up first, handed out info later, and let his dad die without saying or telling him anything about it until after it happened. But he did try to explain everything beforehand, the multiverse, the canon, the consequences of breaking canon, etc. 

I like to think that Miguel is rather caring towards children/younger people, because after all, he did sort of have a child, that’s why he took Gwen in and let her into the Spider Society. 

The only thing is, he’s also plagued with this burden of the multiverse and feeling like he’s the only person strong enough to carry the task of protecting it, and that the guilt of what happened to his daughter’s and dead variant’s dimension eats away at him so much that he feel like he has to do whatever it takes to ensure that safety. 

“I don’t always like what I have to do. But I know I have to be the one to do it.”

This quote also has such a heavy weight to it bc of everything this man has experienced, he’s traumatized fr 

HE STILL HAS A CONSCIENCE 

But again, that continuous mentality to do everything and anything needed for the multiverse kinda clouds that good judgement and led him to acting rashly, not to mention that the Spot can literally dimension hop at will and potentially destroy everything he so hopes to preserve? It’s giving STRESS-

He also projects a lot of his own stuff onto others ngl

“Being Spider-Man is a sacrifice. That’s the job. That’s what you signed up for.”

So like, pay attention to that very first sentence, okay? That being a spider-person is a sacrifice. 

In this statement, Miguel is projecting his own mentality. Remember, Miguel was lonely and unhappy at first. Then he found the dimension where he had Gabriella, and felt like he would sacrifice anything to get that life. And to finally get that life, only for it to fall to pieces, gave him the idea that as Spider-Man, he had to sacrifice his own life and happiness, things he wanted, people he wanted and loved, all of that had to be sacrificed, else worlds crumble, the multiverse collapses, and everyone’s wiped out of existence. 

Therefore, he projects that onto everyone else, that those type of sacrifices have to be made, that they have to live to lose people and be unhappy, because that’s who they’re meant to be, that’s how their life is supposed to go. 

IN CONCLUSION- 

Miguel isn’t a bad guy. He’s been through things, he’s suffered, he needs a hug for crying out loud, it’s just the way he went abt doing things that I think makes a lot of people hate his character 

It’s a lot to unpack, but I just hope they give him a good redemption arc in BTSV 🫶🏽🫶🏽

THAT CONCLUDES MY 12am DEBATE THOOO 

(If any part of this you didn’t understand or need me to elaborate more on, pls lmk, and I’ll do my best 🥰)

@dramatic-delirium

[elendsessor]

@paraseleneblur you have no idea how many goddamn thoughts i’m having about this because like. honestly made me appreciate the contrasting relationship more and the tragedy.

i’ve mentioned this a few times before but if there’s one thing base 5 did right was illustrating different kinds of relationships using the two halves of the same being/soulmate concept not necessarily always being romance. we get some of that, yet it’s not the same for every pairing.

most important to this is koshimizu and atsuta’s since they’re more of a boss and trusted employee/sort of a father-son dynamic, but it’s definitely based in the need to protect tokyo and not anything that much more.

despite the interpretive nature, aogami and vkun’s relationship is based in a need to protect and understand each other. they communicate a ton more than we see of any of the other nahobino pairs—aogami makes it all the more clear with the newly added bench. he fused with the protag to protect him, and considering how vkun “commands” aogami, it’s ultimately up to him to also keep him safe.

while we don’t get much characterization, v is seen to be a bit of an outcast, or at least struggling socially (same here sis). we don’t see him with any friends—atsuta considers him a friend at the beginning of the game but it’s implied they likely haven’t actually hung out or talked much. he seems distant in a couple of the school cutscenes, basically disassociating himself from the rest of the world (again, same here sis). aogami definitely changed him as a person, and he gets into the nahobino role easily because there’s that connection there. this was a meant to be pairing.

they’re both entirely different dynamics with differing viewpoints.

comparing canon of creation along with canon of vengeance really elevates and recontextualizes both narratives but especially how devastating losing a nahobino partner is for both parties involved.

brought it up before but to me, it seems that entire dynamic is a suicide pact. we don’t see any of the pairs die at separate times in canon of creation, and there’s oddly something more peaceful about it. kinda not in sahori’s case bc that was actually a genuinely sad moment in the og and she wasn’t exactly herself (i can’t decide if her being mercy killed in the middle of a half-hug surrounded by people who care about her is better or worse than her dying alongside tao in a pretty brutal way only to be mocked by/seen as fodder by lilith) but for the throne stuff, there’s at least some form of content.

vengeance doesn’t have that during the main conflict, but it’s heavily implied that it’s straight up soulmates in every universe due to the law route. if it weren’t for the fact that they were all drawn together due to the circumstances, vkun and the gang wouldn’t be shown hanging out in that ending. hiromine not wearing the jouin high uniform despite being in the school is proof that shit still happened, plus da’at forming is proven to be inevitable (at least if luci is to be believed). we can assume there’s some memory of vengeance’s events, and since the gods are heavily implied to still be around, yeah safe to say if nothing else, they’re aware of who their partners are. tne is the only ending where all the gods are wiped from that universe but with how megaten’s franchise-wide world building is, it’s heavily implied every ending is canon or at least ends up occurring in one version of that universe, so that meeting is a canon event.

that being said, it does make the deaths all the more tragic because if they are destined to be together no matter what, being destined to die at the same time isn’t entirely guaranteed. only in the vengeance canon do we see partners die separately. hell, dazai and abdiel never become a nahobino in that canon regardless of route despite sticking together. this could be due to mastema’s influence since the power of a fused nahobino could likely shut down his stupid brainwashing bullshit. they at least interact with one another upon death in creation but not in vengeance. abdiel still does technically die first. regardless, both end up dying. this goes for nuwa and yakumo, and the same for koshimizu and atsuta. their fates are intertwined.

both koshimizu and vkun lose their other halves right in front of them and knowing that soulmate stuff, there might be an even stronger connection present, which probably fucks them both up beyond repair. this also shows that just because they’re compatible for fusion doesn’t mean everything is hunky dory. in some ways, this defies the laws of the universe. if it weren’t for aogami’s status as a proto-fiend of a similar type to tsukuyomi, there would be no fusion. they would’ve lost.

god that’s what i genuinely love. we only saw aogami care for the protag in base 5 but the protag not only caring to such a degree that he can’t even act like himself anymore and how defeated he looks when he’s separated is depressing. and there’s some obvious separation anxiety in general. vkun is seen relying on aogami’s input in some situations, or at least consulting with him to see if it’s okay to do certain things. naamah killing a bunch of people at the subway with her fucked up dog freaked the shit out of vkun, but he only stands up and tries to show he’s willing to take her on because he feels aogami would be there. as funny as the arm wave is, it’s clear he’s a much different person when he’s with aogami. also he doesn’t seem nearly as nervous in cutscenes with aogami there than without.

this doesn’t apply to koshimizu.

it’s not just the change in color or the fact that koshimizu is less dominant (his nahobino form with atsuta barely had any atsuta in him). heck, you could also argue the fact that his mouth being covered as the tsukuyomi nahobino could be symbolic of their lack of communication. his moveset also got more brutal. some of the flashier divinity is gone from some of the tsukuyomi-coded ones, or at least are considerably moodier. not just the battle end animation but his idles are a lot less lively. the battle music, too, isn’t as upbeat or cheery. it’s gothic. it’s dreary. it paints a clear picture of how uncomfortable the situation is.

koshimizu at least cares about aogami to a degree. enough to both consider him his brother (mainly due to aogami being modeled off of him) and care for vkun, but the dynamic is different. again, koshimizu and atsuta were bonded in an obligatory way. while aogami was programmed for a similar purpose, due to being susano-o, he would inevitably develop individuality. it was his decision to sacrifice himself, he did ultimately care for vkun as a person, and they were comfortable with one another. at the end of the day, the decision for koshimizu to fuse was because he not only knew vkun needed a partner, not only would aogami want someone to keep him safe, but there was going to be nobody left to stop the qadistu. atsuta is gone, so he only has one option. both of them only have one option.

all their decisions onwards are definitely to avenge their partners, and how they speak to one another proves a lot of it. vkun doesn’t seem comfortable but forces himself, meanwhile the same could be said for koshimizu.

i think about this smile a lot too

he fucking knows there was only so much he could do with vkun, especially with aogami explaining tiamat can’t be killed unless it’s at the hands of a godly dragon slayer. nice touch with murakumo being what finishes her off since if i recall correctly that’s the name of the sword susano-o gets after slaying orochi.

but koshimizu seems at peace here. the one destined to protect vkun is there, and though he could’ve definitely further stuck around in case something went wrong, he still sacrifices himself to revive tao/hiromine. i think that’s not just because he’s no longer needed, but because he could finally die and be reunited with atsuta. he was never meant to continue living, after all. he was never meant to fuse with vkun. he still seems to be grieving over his own loss. regardless of the ending, he does get to finally rest.

it’s so bittersweet and i fucking love it. actual amazing writing.

[vigilskeep]

🔥 Orsino?

they should have let him and hawke kiss i’m dead serious

okay aside from that. um orsino is my babygirl and i do see why people buy into the orsino fight not being real if you side with the mages especially bc there’s like word of god admission it wasn’t done well and hints in canon etc., but i ALSO think the orsino harvester transformation emphasises the desperation of the last straw fight if you side with the mages, which imo is easy to miss bc of like the videogame format where you know you can’t really lose. even if you side with the mages, orsino thinks you are all going to die. (as a further note, everyone who sides with you with the mages is in doing that accepting those chances, however brave a face they’re putting on it. i really think the gravity of that final stand and like the weight of the odds against you gets ignored.) i don’t necessarily mind orsino’s harvester thing but they should have written it better so it doesn’t like happen non-sensically when you seem to be winning, i think you should be getting overwhelmed. at the very least