#. character study . › give no quarter .

[kiragecko]

I started drawing with comics characters, and this has dogged my art for 25 years.

Not even because I want to draw nonbinary characters. Though, I do.

I want to draw LADIES. But there are so many exaggerated elements that I'm used to, that ONLY work for thin fem characters. So many short cuts and assumptions I need to deconstruct.

I want to draw characters that I can put in hijab. Most superhero comics encode SO MUCH body information into the waistline that their characters lose cohesion if it's not defined.

I want to draw fat characters. Once again, comics characters can start reading ... wrong if you add fat in certain places. Visual shorthand stops working.

Comics are one of the few places where long-haired guys usually look weird to me, rather than attractive. Something about the 'acceptable' facial structures, necks, and shoulders.

There are SO MANY types of cheek-bones, jawlines, and facial structures I just can't figure out how to do! Because the art I've seen doesn't actually DRAW those parts of the face, or simplifies it too much for me to be able to do anything different. And any attempt to do something different ends up looking like racial caricature. (This is related to gender for the same reason that WOC get called 'unfeminine'. Because a soft, lineless face with a gentle jawline is the essential signifier of femininity in this style of art.)

I don't do art often enough to motivate me to DO that work deconstructing my visual shorthand, and not having done the work kills a lot of my motivation to draw. And I don't have QUITE enough fundamentals to just passively pick up skill by looking at art, the way I do with writing.

It's frustrating!

Your first mistake in art is thinking you draw men and women inherently differently

[tiderider]

tag  dump .

.     meta .     ›     where  ocean  meets  sand .

.     character  study .     ›     give  no  quarter .

.     npcs .     ›     where  we  will  we'll  roam .

.     dash  prompts .     ›     sailors  knots .

.     about .     ›     sinking  down  below .

.     aesthetics .     ›     at  the  ends  of  the  sea .

.     musings .     ›     shadows  turned  sublime.

.     skills .     ›     oceans  of  hell  come  calling .

.     powers .     ›     to  be  consumed  &  to  consume .

.     headcanon .     ›     the  devil  has  his  soul .

[n3on-graveston3s-calling]

The Hat Rule.

Characters: Portgas D. Ace, Buggy the Clown, Dracule Mihawk, Trafalgar Law [ uses they/them ], X-Drake / Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 2,422

Rating: Mature

Warnings: None

Author's Notes: I'm a sucker for the Hat Rule, sue me. Nothing but some subtle spice. Enjoy!

You would be lying if you said it hadn’t been thrilling to sneak up behind them and pluck the hat off their head. They were so attached to it, it was funny! Of course, sentimentality was one thing- but really, the way they had paused, reaching up to touch their head as if confused at the sudden loss had been far too comical for you to even consider not laughing at. But the moment they had turned, had called out your name-

You ran.

You had sprinted across the dock back towards safety, hat clutched in your hand as they followed after you. But you were faster- always had been quicker on your feet. You scurried up the gangplank, avoiding collisions with your fellow shipmates as you made your way below deck to your quarters. You thought you were safe, you really had! Taking a minute to catch your breath, you settled the hat atop your own head with a grin. 

Success! 

That is, until the door opened. You turned, eyes widening in surprise at the sight of the owner of said hat, leaning against the door with an expression that lingered between amused and… Something else. Something darker. You suddenly realized you had cornered yourself in your haste to escape- and now, you had nowhere to run. 

──Portgas D. Ace [ 353 ]

Your heart hammered in your chest as Ace chuckled, arms crossed over his chest as you leaned back against the opposite wall. “You had your fun,” he spoke softly, holding a hand out to you. “Now gimme my hat back.”

“No.” You replied defiantly, instead putting the hat on your own head. You turned, studying your reflection in the mirror on the wall, tilting your head to and fro as a smile curved your lips. “I think it looks better on me, really,” you couldn’t help but tease.

“There’s a rule ‘bout wearin’ someone else’s hat, y/n.” Ace sighed, stepping in, closing the door behind himself- and locking it, something that had your breath faltering. A rule? What was he talking about? It was just a hat! Even so, he crossed the room with a few strides, settling behind you. His hands smoothed across your hips, his head dipping down to press chaste kisses along your throat. “You wear the hat, you ride the sailor,” he murmured against the shell of your ear, his gaze finding your own in the reflection. 

Hunger. That’s what that expression was; his beautiful brown eyes dark in the soft light of the room. Your heart stuttered in its beat as he kept your gaze locked with his own, lips pressing over where your carotid artery lay in your throat. “Oh,” you whispered back, blinking slowly as his hands wandered. Fingers plucked at the edge of your shirt, dragging it up slowly with his fingers as they trailed heated paths across your skin. His Devil Fruit ability- oh, how you loved that. 

“Whattya say, y/n?” He asked, biting at your shoulder gently, not enough to cause pain but certainly enough to draw a gasp out of your lips. You nodded mutely, transfixed by your reflections as he grinned wolfishly over your shoulder. “That’s my baby.” A damn near growl as he tugged your back against his front, subtle grinds of his hips giving you a clear image of just how much he wanted you. 

You were suddenly glad you decided to steal his silly little hat. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

──Buggy the Clown [ 464 ]

It had been a celebration. Another successful show, another successful tithe paid from the townsfolk. One of those rare times where your Captain was genuinely happy, laughing with his crew as the bonfire burned brightly on the beach. But you weren’t there- no, you were sitting on the throne in the center ring of the Big Top, orange tricorn settled atop your head as you waited. 

You didn’t have to wait for long.

“Y/n,” Buggy called out as he sauntered in, his gaze settling on your form sitting in his chair, wearing his hat. The sight had his breath faltering, had his mouth suddenly dry. You looked damn good sitting there, almost as good as he did. Your legs kicked up over the arm, your lips curved into a cheeky grin. His hat… His hat on your head. 

He approached slowly, the sounds of the celebration fading behind him as he reached the throne. “Look at you! All comfortable in my chair, wearing my hat.” He muttered, one hand grabbing your chin, forcing your head up and back to meet his gaze. The other settled on the top of the throne as he leaned his weight against it, hovering over you.

“Your hat?” You countered with faux confusion. You reached up, touching the tricorn. “I could’ve sworn this was my hat.”

“Brat.” Buggy hissed as you grinned. 

You leaned up, sitting upright as your legs shifted down from the arm of the couch. “Yeah? Am I?” You continued to taunt, watching as your lover’s gaze brightened with the game you had decided to play.

“Yaknow, there’s this funny little rule that comes with wearing someone else’s hat.” His thumb brushed against your lower lip. You leaned into the touch, gaze flickering down to his painted smile. 

“What is it?” You breathed as he shifted closer. When you’d stolen his hat, you’d let his hair down. Aquamarine tresses spilled over his shoulders, falling forward to cloak you, giving an odd form of privacy as his lips ghosted against your own.

“Wear the hat, ride the Captain.” Buggy murmured as he captured your lips in a kiss. Paint smeared against your skin as you reached up, tangling your fingers in his hair, drawing out a pleased hum from him as he pressed closer. 

You pulled back with a nip to his lip, watching the way he crumbled beneath you so easily. “Ride the Captain, eh?” The thought set a fire in you. You rose to your feet, swapping places with a hand against his chest, shoving him down into his throne. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to fuck you here.”

“Shit,” he chuckled, hands settling on your waist as you took your place on his lap. “Keep the hat on.”

“Yes, Captain.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

──Dracule Mihawk [ 516 ]

You felt like royalty as you ran through the halls of the castle. Perhaps it was the romance novels you’d read over the years, but there was something particularly thrilling about running through corridor after corridor with the tricorn clutched to your chest. You found yourself in the library, chest rising and falling with deep breaths as you turned to face the doors. Any moment now, Dracule would walk in.

It was worth it. Grabbing his tricorn the moment he’d docked at the island, running as fast as your legs could carry you back to the castle. You worried your lip as you looked down at the black leather, fingers brushing against the stitching. After a moment’s hesitation, you raised the hat- and settled it atop your head.

The doors swung open. 

“Darling,” Mihawk drawled. Yoru wasn’t on his back; his coat had been discarded, no doubt left by the front entryway. He sighed, taking in the sight of you in the moment. Cheeks flushed, hat perched atop your head; you were bathed in the orange glow of the fireplace. The sun had already set behind you; no light spilled through the large windows. 

A piece of art, you were.

“I believe you have something that belongs to me.” Slow steps drew him closer, even as you took shorter steps backwards- until you stumbled, ending up on your rear on the rug before the fireplace. Mihawk chuckled as he stood over you, arms crossed over his chest.

You found your words at last, grinning up at your lover. “I dunno what you’re talking about.” Cheekily, you leaned back on your elbows as Dracule knelt, reaching out to cup your cheek gently. “All I have is this shirt… And this hat.”

“... That’s all?” His gaze flickered down to your legs- bare, he realized. When had you stripped your trousers? He was certain you had been wearing them when you met him at the dock. “There’s a certain tradition when you wear another’s hat.”

“Tell me about it.” You sighed as his hand smoothed along your calf, gently massaging the muscle. He moved slowly, crawling over your form as his hands left your leg and cheek, balancing his weight over you. He dipped his head, stealing a kiss from you that had your head swimming by the end of it. The ghost of a brush of his tongue against your lip before he parted; you leaned forward, chasing him. 

“Wear the hat,” he murmured as he shifted, arm curling around your waist. In a movement too quick to track, he’d rolled you both, settling you on his lap as he settled on the rug. His fingers gripped your thighs, dangerously high to rucking up your- no, that was certainly his- shirt. “Ride the pirate.”

“Oh,” you breathed, mind growing fuzzy with the lust that was beginning to course through your veins. You shift your hips slowly, feeling your lover respond in kind. A groan pulled free of you as your hands settle on his chest, fingers gripping at his shirt. “Oh, I think I like that one.”

“Good.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

──Trafalgar Law [ 450 ]

It was hard to hide in a submarine. This was your first- no, second- mistake. Taking your Captain’s hat was the first mistake. Hiding in the submarine was the second. And the third? Deciding to add insult to injury by hiding in their own quarters. Was it the brightest of ideas? No. But Shachi wasn’t going to let you get out of the bet without consequences, and like hell you were going to cough up five hundred berries. 

So, you stole Law’s hat. And then had run for your damn life. 

You could hear the heavy footsteps of their boots as they approached. You panicked- and tugged the white hat on as the door opened, revealing the frustrated face of Law. They paused, brow furrowing at the sight of you standing in the middle of their quarters. “The boiler room would have been a better hiding place,” they taunted sarcastically, closing the door behind themself before leaning back against it. 

“I uh, I panicked?” You shrugged, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. You reached up, patting the hat on your head. “I get why you wear it. ‘S comfy.”

“It looks good on you.” They admitted softly, pushing off the door to cross the room, settling before you. Their hand raised, brushing a strand of hair back behind your ear. “Almost as good as it looks on me,” they finished, lips curving into that signature cocky grin that had you stomach twisting. 

You reached out, settling your hands on their chest, “There’s this lil’ thing,” words barely above a whisper; they had to focus on you to really hear. “This lil’ rule I remember learnin’ about.”

“And what would that be?” They asked just as softly, hands settling on your hips, drawing you closer, pressing your form against their own. Their hands squeezed slowly, the pressure enough to draw a pleased sigh from you.

You leaned in, lips brushing against their ear. “If I wear my Captain’s hat- I have to ride them.” A nip against the shell of their ear had a shudder dancing across them. You could have sworn a soft ‘fuck’ had slipped free from them. “Is that right?”

They pulled back, hand coming up to grip your jaw. A mischievous light had settled in their gaze as they studied you. You weren’t sorry; not a single speck of sympathy lingered in your expression, in your words, in your teasing. “You are, y/n-ya.” They rasped as they leaned in, stealing a kiss. Their teeth grazed your lip as they guided you backwards, until the back of your knees hit the bed. You sank slowly, but they didn’t part- not until you pulled back, panting.

“Captain-”

“Keep it on.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

──X Drake [ 399 ]

You had managed to stumble into your quarters on the Liberal Hind, only to realize that oh- well, shit. That’s a mistake. You curse yourself softly as you try to figure out how to get out of this mess. It had been a silly idea. You hadn’t seen your Captain laugh in a while- and thought that hey, stealing the hat would be funny!

Apparently not, given the yell that had come from him as you sprinted away. 

Your heart skipped more than one beat as the door to your quarters swung open, revealing the tall form of your Captain, X-Drake. You swallowed roughly around nothing as he studied you, brow furrowed. He ran a hand through his hair with a huff, stepping in and closing the door behind himself. 

Slowly, you raised the hat- and placed it on your own head.

Worth it, you thought to yourself as your lover’s eyes widened in shock as he turned around once more. “Missing something?” You teased, arms crossing over your chest as he studied you.

“That’s my hat.” He stated simply, taking a step forward. “Why did you take it?”

“Maybe I want it.” You shrugged, watching the way his eye twitched at the blatant insubordination you showed. Former Marines, always so strict. You worried your cheek as you glanced away. “I think it looks good, don’t you?”

“It…” He faltered, drawing in a slow breath. “It does look good, yes.” He crossed over to you, reaching out a hand to grasp the hat- only to pause. You were at port. The crew was working on supply runs. Alone on the ship. His hand lowered to tilt your chin up gently, his demeanor shifting as he tilted your head to the left- and then the right. “It suits you well,” he murmured, voice damn near molten gold with the way it poured over you. 

You shuddered, gaze rising to meet his own. “What’s that old saying… Wear the hat, ride the Captain?”

His jaw clenched; the hand on your chin flexed. Got him. “You’re nothing but trouble,” he groaned as his hands smoothed down your sides, hooking in the waistband of your trousers, tugging you closer to himself. “You need to be disciplined. Stealing from your captain…”

“Then do it,” you whispered, leaning in to ghost a kiss along his jaw. “After all, I did steal.”

“Turn around.”

“Yes, sir.”

[agaypanic]

hi omg i got so excited when i saw you were doing egon spengler x reader aaaa! could you do egon and an personality opposite reader? he's all serious and deadpan while she's happy and upbeat (it'd be cool if she was the new girl in the team and had a crush on him). sort of like a "she fell first, he fell harder" situation?

The Sunlight On My Spores (Egon Spengler X Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: The new addition to the ghostbuster’s team is a ray of sunshine, and she has her sights on a scientist with an interest in fungi and the supernatural.

A/N: AHHHHH ive been waiting for an egon/ghostbuster request!!! since i havent written for egon before, i hope i get his character right lol also idk shit about science/paranormal jargon. and idk if eegs is spelled the way it should but it’s pronounced ee-gs, like egon but s instead of on

***

Joining the Ghostbusters definitely brought amusement and hecticness to your daily life. Although you handled more of the office work, you had seen your fair share of the paranormal action. Namely Slimer, who would get ahold of your lunch every now and then.

Ray was the first on the team that you had met, being the one to interview you. You liked to call him ‘Sun-Ray’ for his bright and positive personality.

You were pretty much hired on the spot, mainly because Janine had been complaining about the lack of extra help. But as long as you had a steady paycheck, you didn’t mind. Ray had immediately showed you around the firehouse. You met Peter and Winston on the main floor, the former being flirtatious and the latter being more polite in his welcoming. 

Then Ray took you up to the second floor, where the dining area, sleeping quarters, and lab were.

That’s where you met Egon Spengler. His tall frame was hunched over one of the lab’s many workbenches, doing some soldering work on a proton pack.

“Spengs!” Ray said with a wide grin, bringing you over to the scientist. The man in question set down the soldering iron and straightened up, adjusting his glasses as he turned around.

“What is it, Ray?” He asked in a somewhat monotone voice. He glanced at you, furrowing his brows slightly before looking back at his friend. “Who’s this?”

“This is Y/n, our new recruit!” Ray replied enthusiastically, patting you on the shoulder. 

“Ah, so you’ve filled the new receptionist position.” He said, giving you a once-over. “Janine will be happy to hear that.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Spengler.” You greeted with a smile. He outreached his hand, which you grasped firmly and gave a few shakes. His hand was slightly calloused, probably from his work, but still felt nice.

“Egon’s fine.”

“I’ve read a few of your papers on paranormal studies; I think the whole thing’s fascinating.” 

Some of his research papers weren’t the only thing of Egon’s you’ve seen. Ever since the Ghostbusters had gained some popularity, you couldn’t help but find him quite cute, spending an extra few seconds looking at him whenever a picture of the group was in your newspaper or on your television screen. 

And he was definitely even more handsome in person.

“Well then, you’ve definitely come to the right place.” Ray grinned, but your focus was still on the spectacled man before you.

“Thank you, that’s very flattering.” Although his voice was a bit monotonous, the response was genuine. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to check on my spore samples.”

“Spore samples?” You asked with curiosity.

“Yes. I collect spores, molds, and fungus.” 

“That sounds like fun!” Egon was a bit taken aback by your response. That wasn’t a reply he was used to hearing. And the fact that you sounded genuine and peppy was even more confusing to him. 

Ray, wanting to show you the rest of the firehouse, started to pull you away. You gave a quick goodbye to Egon before bounding down the stairs after Ray. Meanwhile, Egon needed to take a second to get his befuddled thoughts straight before he could tend to his samples.

***

You fell into a routine pretty quickly. The job was mainly making appointments and ensuring the boys were ready for a call, scheduled or unexpected. Occasionally, you filed paperwork or got coffee for everyone at odd hours in the day. But because the job was shared between you and Janine, you often had at least a little bit of free time.

“Got another one!” Peter announced as he stepped out of the Ecto-1 that had just rolled into the firehouse, holding up a slightly smoking trap. As Winston and Ray emerged from the car, you wondered if Peter had been wearing a poncho because he was the only one not covered at least halfway in goo. “He was a real slimy one, too.”

“I can tell.” You laughed as Ray and Winston peeled out of their uniforms with a grimace. 

“You’re back.” Egon’s voice almost made you jump; you hadn’t realized he had come down from the lab. He walked until he was standing next to you, holding his hand out towards the ghost trap. “I’ll take that, Peter. Ray, come with me, I want to discuss the containment facility with you.”

“What about it?” Ray asked as he closed his locker. Egon brushed past you to walk down to the basement, Ray close behind.

Not wanting to be caught staring at Egon’s leaving form, you whipped back around to the car. It seemed that Winston and Ray weren’t the only ones who got slimed. Poor Ecto.

“I think I’m gonna clean the car.” You thought aloud. “You guys don’t have any more calls until tomorrow.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, Y/n,” Winston said. 

“Well, someone’s gotta do it,” Peter interjected. “We gotta ride in style, after all.”

“Really, Winston, I don’t mind.” You insisted. “I don’t have anything else to do.”

“Suit yourself.” He said with a shrug.

Patting you on the shoulder, Winston went upstairs to take a shower. While Peter hung up his jumpsuit, you looked around in a storage closet for car washing supplies.

“Y/n?” You looked towards the sound of the voice, seeing Egon peeking out of the basement entrance.

“Yeah, Eegs?”

“You, uh-” He cleared his throat, cheeks going slightly pink, and you wondered why. “You can wear my jumpsuit, if you want. So your clothes don’t get dirty.”

You grinned, straightening up from your slightly bent position. Peter raised a brow at Egon, although you couldn’t see that because you were also looking at the tall man.

“Thanks, Egon!”

He nodded once before going back downstairs, Peter hot on his tail. 

“You sweet on her or something, Spengs?” He asked quietly, not wanting to gain your attention.

“Shut up, Venkman.”

***

Music blasted as you washed the soap suds of the Ecto-1. You were pretty sure everyone was out of the building, either getting lunch or just not wanting to be in the firehouse. You had taken Egon up on his offer, his jumpsuit fitting very baggy on you. You had to roll up the sleeves and pantlegs, but you didn’t mind. Especially when seeing the patch with his last name on your chest.

Over the music and your own voice singing along to Whitney Houston, you didn’t hear Egon walking down the stairs. When he reached the bottom step, he watched as you jumped around to the beat. 

“I need a man who’ll take the chance, on a love that burns hot enough to last.” You sprayed the last of the soap off the front of the car before turning the hose off. “So when the night falls, my lonely heart calls. Ohh- Oh!” You yelped in surprise as you turned around, seeing Egon, who was still looking at you. His eyes trailed up and down your form, but it was so quick that you didn’t notice. “Hey, Eegs! I thought you’d gone out with the others.” Even after turning down the radio to hear his response, you still danced a bit. Although, your movements were a bit more subdued.

“I was up in the lab, checking on my fungi.” 

“Oh! Was the music distracting you?” You asked, already sounding apologetic. “I can keep it down if you-”

“No!” Egon answered quickly, taking the both of you by surprise. He cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. “No, the music’s fine. I wanted a snack and found that we were out of Twinkies, so I was going to get some.” 

You nodded in understanding, moving to put away the car cleaning supplies that you were no longer using. And then you noticed that Egon hadn’t made any move to leave. You looked over your shoulder, seeing that he was standing in the same spot with eyes darting around the room, and turned back around to face him. You tilted your head with a questioning look.

“Would you, ahem, would you like to come with me?” He seemed a bit shy to ask, and it made you smile brightly. “Wouldn’t want to leave you here all alone and all.”

“Sure!” You answered enthusiastically. “Lemme just put all this away.” 

Without asking, Egon helped you gather everything and put it in the storage closet. You unrolled the limbs of Egon’s uniform, and he couldn’t help but admire you in his attire, despite how much the fabric consumed you. It was hung back up in his locker with care before you grabbed your purse from your desk and skipped over to him.

“Ready?” You nodded, and the two of you walked out of the firehouse. Without thinking, you looped your arm through his. But before you could pull away and apologize for not asking, he was already pulling you along the sidewalk, the tiniest hint of a smile on his serious face.

[sonamytrash]

Midnight

Underground Virgin!Levi x Virgin!Femreader

MDNI

Warnings: y/n used, Childhood friends to lovers, fluff, smut, puberty mentioned, masturbation mentioned, fingering, sex, mentions of abuse, mentions of rape, mentions of prostitution, characters ages aren't mentioned, but it's suggested they're both in their late teens, of age when writing but could be interpreted as underage? Virgin levi, virgin reader.

Note: Kind of wanted to write something about Levi losing his virginity and give him the blessing of something in his life that wasn't all bad. Reader and Levi have grown up together. Feelings have blossomed, and desires have been ignited over the years. The underground is a tough place to live with sex and violence everywhere. There's no smut in the first chapter, but it is heavily suggestive. Let me know what you think. Enjoy!

-----------------

In a world where the sun never shines, where the only light comes from flickering Street lights, candles, and the occasional spark from a fire, three souls found solace together in front of a fire. The underground city was a maze of dimly lit tunnels, cramped living quarters, and a constant struggle for survival. You had grown up together, survived together, and lived together in this harsh, unforgiving environment.

Your landlord was a cruel and greedy man, having come to you the with news that he wanted his rent earlier than usual, probably because he owed someone else the money or had pissed his own money up the wall. You couldn't afford to be out on the streets again. It wasn't hard to find a crook to rent a small apartment to three teenagers. But his terms were unreasonable.

Desperation and stress hung heavy in the air. You were usually the type to try and remain cheery, strong, and resilient, but these sorts of situations made you anxious. Finding money down here was hard enough, but being given less time to find it was so much more stressful. "I-I don't know what we're going to do," you stammered. "There has to be some way to make the money quickly." Furlan said thoughtfully as he tried to reassure you, but even his words sounded hollow. It really wasn't much time to get the money together.

You were always aware of the easiest way for a girl to make money down here. Selling your body to some piece of shit man to use for pleasure. It was quick and easy cash that much was true. If you were lucky enough to get paid, that is. The attempt to make any money that way came with many risks. Most women down here lived in fear of getting raped, abused, and even killed before the added risk of being a working girl. Having grown up with Levi and Furlan, they had kept you safe. Currently, you worked a part-time job at the morgue, which didn't pay well but allowed you to learn and study to some extent. But in recent years, since hitting puberty and developing into a young woman, the pressure had been more intense, men often offering plenty of money for the opportunity to have their way with you. Although this sort of interaction would result in being beaten to a pulp by Levi, he would die before he allowed you to have to resort to sex work. And you were grateful for that. The thought of having to resort to prostitution, a common but desperate measure, filled you with dread.

Levi, said nothing. He just stared at the floor, his jaw tightening with anger. You glanced at him, concerned. "Levi, if we need the money I can-" You asked softly, stopping when you saw him look up at you, his eyes burning with a fierce protectiveness. "I'm not going to let you do that," he said, his voice steady and unyielding.

You frowned. "It will guarantee us the money."

"Y/N" He said sternly. "I won't let you go out there and sell yourself for us to survive. I'll find another way. I promise." You looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of uncertainty, but found none. There was only determination.

You nod in response, feeling reassured for now by his words. "I've got to go out. I'll be back around midnight, okay?" He states. Again, this wasn't uncommon. You worried about him and where he was going but even if you asked he wouldn't have told you. Criminal and immoral are the exact words that he himself would've used to describe his work, he was probably going to go and find some quick and easy job, guaranteed to pay but always carried so many risks. Furlan smiles gently at you as he follows Levi out of the door.

Having had a bath and tidied up a little. You toss and turn in bed for hours, lost in your own thoughts. You knew Levi would keep you safe to an extent, but nothing was guaranteed down here. Even if you didn't end up in a brothel, there was nothing stopping anyone from breaking into the apartment you shared now while the boys were gone, you could he kidnapped, raped and murdered any night, or day for that matter. You shudder at the thought. You wanted as much of your life to be in your own hands and control as possible. It wasn't like you wanted to stay a virgin forever, while still being young, you were old by the standards of the underground, which made you laugh. You wanted your first time to be something you choose, not something taken from you. You had desires and thoughts late at night like this when you were alone. Always of your stoic companion. You weren't sure when your feelings towards him became romantic, but it frightened you. He was difficult to read, but you were sure that there could be something there. And if there wasn't? Well, you were sure you could convince yourself that you would be satisfied to just be by his side in whatever capacity the universe will allow. Maybe you would be fortunate enough to be born as a princess in the next life, and he would be your Prince charming. You roll your eyes and laugh at the thought. A girl could dream, and your fantasy of prince's, pretty dresses and castles, however impossible it was did help you to fall asleep for a few hours before you were abruptly awoken by the sound of Levi and Furlan returning. You could recognise the sound of Furlans footsteps retiring to his small room at the end of the corridor. It sounded like Levi was still in the living room. You sit up in bed and light a candle.

Levi walks over to your door, having noticed the light emitting from beneath. A heavy sigh escapes him, his eyes carrying a look of exhaustion. As he knocks on your door just once, his voice is soft.

"Can I come in?"

You respond with a sleepy yes, and Levi pauses for a moment before he comes into the room. His eyes shift to your bed, and he realizes that you're only wearing a tank top and underwear. He doesn't let his eyes roam over you for more than a second, trying to focus on something else in the room before speaking up, sounding worried:

"Are you alright? Why aren't you sleeping?"

You smile. "I was, and I wasn't, I fell asleep not long ago, but I heard you come home. Is everything okay?" You ask him concerned.

Levi nods as he sits down on the edge of your bed.

"Yeah, everything is fine. Sorry if I woke you up. You should get back to sleep." He smiles softly, something only you and you alone are ever lucky enough to see. You gently tug his arm. "Stay, just for a little longer." A blush creeping across your cheeks. This was a bold move for you. Maybe you were still slightly delirious from having just woken up.

Levi looks down at your hand as it lays on his arm. A slight blush creeps up on his cheeks as he looks up at you again. Your messy hair, dreary eyes, and smile are just too cute. He doesn't know what he would do without you. He hates that he can't find a way to get you all out of this cesspit. You're like the moon that continues to shine on the darkest night. He's already resided himself to do anything to keep you safe and by his side. He feels guilty that this sight of you is making his cock twitch. The years have been kind to you and you're such a beautiful young woman now, each and every night his hand is tightly gripped around his cock at the thought of you. Seeing you like this, the covers barely covering your panties and your nipples visible through your tank top is all the more fuel for his desires. But he knows how it is for girls down here, he saw what life was like for his mother, he sees it daily in the streets. He would never dream of treating you with anything but the respect you deserve. Not only that, but the thought of jeopardising the relationship that you have now should he tell you how he feels, loosing you would really plummet his life into eternal darkness.

He reaches out and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "I guess I can stay for a little bit." He says softly. "Since you're such a brat if you don't get your own way." He teases.

You pout playfully at him, he chuckles as he shifts a bit closer to you, now sitting next to you with his arm around your shoulder, you nestle into his chest. A slight blush appears on his cheeks, which he immediately hides by turning his face away from you. "You're not still worrying about the money, are you? Is that why you're acting so needy?." He asks quietly

You shake your head. "Not anymore, I know it won't come to that." He nods, relieved that it isn't worrying you any longer. He's pulled from his thoughts when you speak up again. "I'm grateful. I know what I want for myself. And it's thanks to you that I'm able to make my own choices." You lift your head to meet his gaze, your face painted with a furious blush. "I'm ready to make my own choices."

Levi chuckles. "Well, you're spoilt for choice if that's the case." He says, trying to ignore the pang of jealously he can feel in the pit of his stomach.

You shake your head  "That's not what I mean, Vi." You nervously bring your palm to his cheek. "I want to be with someone I trust, someone I love."

Levi stares at you. Blushing slightly at your words. You have grown into a young woman who's a lot braver than he gives you credit for. A small smile forms on his face, but he's still hesitant to say all the things he wants to.

Levi tries to keep his usual cool exterior "A-Are...Are you saying what I think you're saying right now?"

You nod nervously. Averting your gaze, you have said enough for someone as intuitive as Levi to piece together. The seconds seem to last forever, but he finally gives you his response with a soft and gentle tone:

"I... I want that, too."

[thus-spoke-lo]

Birthday Gift // Trafalgar Law x afab!reader // NSFW/18+ Kink: Cosplay/roleplay

A/N: It's Law's birthday--what better day to show him some love? Thank you to @thenotsofantasticlifestory for the concept! CW: afab!reader [no pronouns used]; reader wears a skirt; choking; vaginal fingering; unprotected vaginal intercourse; creampie WC: 2.7k // Fictober Masterlist

“What’s taking you so long in there?”

Law’s voice is muffled by the bathroom door, but you can still detect a hint of irritation threaded through it nonetheless.

“Don’t worry about it!” you shout back, carefully pulling fishnet thigh-highs up your legs, sweat beading at your temples as you concentrate on trying not to rip the delicate honeycombs upon first wear—that would be something you would leave to Law. “Just another minute!”

Law was typically a patient man, especially where you were concerned, but tonight he was slowly becoming unraveled. It was your doing, of course—once you had told him you had a surprise for him, standing on tiptoes before you left your shared quarters to whisper it in his ear as you pressed yourself against his back, hooking your fingers in his belt loops to pull him close, his steely resolve slowly began to melt. He had tried to mask his excitement as they day waned, now keeping his gaze fixed on the coins he was sorting into thick books, but you still caught the hint of a smile quirking up the corners of his mouth, spotted the slight crinkling around his eyes that gave away his barely-suppressed interest. He would deny it if asked, but the accumulation of tells was giving him away—he was eager to learn just what it was you had in store for him.

The swishy skirt that sits on your hips sways as the submarine shudders, and you adjust the pleats, hiking it up just a little higher, exposing the exact right amount of thigh that you intend. With a slow exhale, you add your final touch—a lightweight helmet that you carefully lower down onto your head before studying yourself in the mirror, frowning and pouting, trying to perfect the most stoic and brave look possible. You stifle a laugh at delightfully ridiculous you look, like a comic-book character come to life—precisely as you intended.

“Happy birthday, my love,” you announce as you open the bathroom door, placing your gloved hands on your hips and standing with your legs apart, looking off into corner of his room as though you were gazing into the misty horizon; all that’s missing is a strong breeze to rustle your flowing blue cape and swish the hem of your ridiculously short skirt.

“Oh thanks b—” Law’s jaw hangs open as he turns in his chair to address you, and the coins he holds in his hand drop and scatter on the floor. “You—you’re—”

“Sora, Warrior of the Sea,” you say proudly, puffing out your chest and adjusting your stance, beaming wildly at his reaction. “From the infamous issue where Sora is hit with a gender-swap ray.”

Law clucks his tongue. “Well, I mean technically it was more than one issue for it to be resolved, you know.”

“Law…”

“What?”

You huff a sigh and smile as you cross the room to him, his gaze never leaving you, eyes flitting over every heroically-decorated inch of you. Law stands and lets out a shivering exhale as he approaches you cautiously, almost reverently, long fingers reaching out and running over the smoothness of your helmet, tracing every curve and sharp angle. He delicately fondles the shimmering fabric of your cape, taking handfuls of it and rubbing it between his fingers, touching it to his face to feel the softness of the material, humming at the sensation. It was rare to see this particular look of awe on Law’s face, to see him wrapped up in something this intensely, his eyes taking in every single inch of your carefully crafted costume. His pupils dilate as his palms trail down the stiff material of your sleeves, until his hands reach yours and he grips them tightly, and even through your thick leather gloves you feel how he trembles just slightly, seeming to vibrate with excitement.

“You look—I mean, all of it—i-it’s perfect. And it’s…oh, fuck, you look so sexy.” His eyes glimmer in that way you love, when something catches his interest and holds it tightly and won’t let him go. “It’s exactly like the comic. Every detail.”

You swallow hard, biting your lip. “You really like it?”

“I love it.” He leans down and presses his lips to yours with an impulsive urgency, almost seeming as though he’s restraining himself from something more. “And I love you.”

“I love you too. And I’m glad you like it, it took me forever to make it.”

“Wait…you made this?” A soft dusting of blush begins to cover his cheeks. “You must really love me if you sewed something this complicated.”

“Well, I had a little help,” you demur, hoping the money you slipped to Penguin and Shachi would be enough to keep them quiet about your bespoke birthday gift, at least for a while.

“You didn’t have to do this, you know,” Law murmurs as he carefully removes your helmet and sets it on his desk, his hands returning to your face to cup your heated cheeks. “I didn’t expect anything.”

“I know.” You turn your head and kiss his palm, placing your gloved hands on top of his. “And that’s why I wanted to do it.”

“You’re too good to me.” He kisses you again, softly sighing against your lips, his thumbs stroking the apples of your cheeks.

“Don’t say that just yet,” you chuckle as he breaks your kiss, “I’m not done.”

You bend over—slowly, deliberately, making sure the hem of your skirt lifts perfectly to expose the underside of your ass cheeks, until you hear Law hiss through his teeth at the sight—and grab a box from under the bed.

“Here.” Your drag your teeth along your lower lip as you watch him tear into the wrapping paper, fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “I didn’t have time to make more pieces but it’s—”

“A Stealth Black cape.” His look of shock turns to one of something close to delight as the box falls to the floor and he holds up the long, flowing cloak, his eyes fixed on it almost worshipfully. “Shit, this is so cool.”

“Well, put it on,” you finally blurt excitedly. “I have a criminal to capture.”

“Oh, you think you’ll capture me, do you?” he purrs, smooth and low, quickly adapting to his role as he dons his getup. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Then try I shall!” You grin and press your hand to his chest, the feeling of his racing heart under your palm catching you off guard. “S-stop, vile villain!”

“Honey.” A look of utter seriousness washes over his face. “He wouldn’t say that.”

“Law…” You flatten your lips and press them together, blinking at him questioningly.

“What?”

“Nevermind,” you shrug with a grin—this was his birthday after all, a little more accuracy to the source material won’t kill you. “What would he say then?”

“You know what?” he says after a beat, his tone softening for a moment. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Then prepare to be brought to justice!”

“You’re no match for the might of Germa 66, Sora—you will never be able to outwit our scientific might!”

You throw a soft punch at Law’s midsection, then a lazy kick at his thigh as he pretends to double-over in agony and stumble backwards towards his desk. But before you can land another hit, he lunges forward and wraps a strong hand around your wrist, twisting you around as he pulls your arm behind your back and yanks you against him. He wraps his other arm around your waist as you feign a struggle, throwing your head back onto his chest as you grunt and grumble.

“I have you now, Sora,” he growls, his tongue running along the shell of your ear. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“You’ll never be able to hold me, Stealth Black,” you mutter as you softly kick at his shins, your boots barely making contact with his body as you find yourself enjoying the fabricated scuffle more than you expected. A familiar heat begins to spread throughout your partially-restrained body, an ache beginning to build between your thighs as Law groans softly every time you writhe in his grasp. “No one can escape my justice, not even you.”

“Oh, is that so?” He tightens his grip on your waist for a moment, pulling you closer until your ass is flush with his groin; the swell of his arousal presses against you, and a moan creeps up your throat unexpectedly. “We’ll see about that.”

Law’s free hand runs up the front of your body, his pace achingly slow and deliberate, his fingers dancing over the smooth fabric of your costume, lingering on your breasts, circling over your clothed nipples until you squirm. His palm comes to rest on your neck and he keeps it there, stroking your jaw with his thumb as he groans low in your ear. Long, slender fingers wrap around your throat, and he begins to squeeze, applying a gentle, persistent pressure to the sides of your delicate neck, just below your jaw.

“Give in yet, Sora?” he asks as he releases his grip, a shivering breath leaving his lungs at the way you gasp for air, the way you quake so perfectly in his grasp.

“N-never,” you stammer—at least, not as long as it means he’ll be forced to keep tormenting you in the way you love.

He lets out a low chuckle and squeezes tighter this time, pressing at the sides of your neck, keeping his hand positioned just-so to force your head straight. Your free hand grasps at his forearm, digging your fingers into his tattooed flesh as your pulse starts to grow louder in your ears, darkness starting to form at the edges of your vision. But Law knows precisely where the edge is and how far he can let you peer over it before he needs to pull you back, and with a gasp of his own, he releases his hold on you, quickly moving his arm to wrap around your chest and keep you aloft.

“Hmm, you are a tough one, Sora,” he murmurs against your cheek, warm breath spreading across your skin as you pull in lungfuls of air. “I guess I’ll have to use stronger measures.”

With a few quick movements, Law maneuvers you onto the bed, your body landing with a soft thump; he nudges your legs apart and kneels between them, looking you over with a hunger in his eyes that makes your pulse race and your body flood with a needy heat. He trails his hands up the soft leather of your boots, up the plushness of your thighs, fingertips poking and prodding at the holes in your fishnets, snapping the elastic band at the top against your skin until you yelp from the sharp stings.

“You want something from me, don’t you?” he purrs as he undoes the fastens of his cape and lets it fall to the floor. You aren’t sure if he’s asking as the villain or as himself—and the growing need between your thighs doesn’t particularly care which. You chew your lower lip and watch as his tattooed hands push your skirt up over your thighs, up further and further until his lips part and his tongue pokes at the corner of his mouth. “My, my—no panties? You really did come looking for trouble.”

“I suppose I did,” you tease, parting your legs a little more, allowing him to take in the full extent of your arousal. “I really can’t help but be attracted to the bad guy.”

“The bad guy, huh?” Law groans softly under his breath at your glistening wetness and trails his fingers down the downy softness of your mound, down to the apex of your slit, pressing on your tender bundle of nerves, making subtle circles over it until your back arches and you whine with need. “Would the bad guy do this?”

“I-I guess not,” you stammer as he toys with your aching clit, moving his thumb over it with a fierce insistence. He deftly slides his middle and ring fingers into your dripping cunt, driving them into you again and again as you buck your hips against him, fucking yourself on his hand.

Tension coils inside you with every pump of his long fingers, every bit of pressure he applies to your clit, and you writhe with every burning caress. Law grins lasciviously and crooks his fingers upwards to massage that most sensitive spot inside you, forcing the breath from your lungs with every stroke of your walls. Your shaking hands grip the sheets, and that tautness in your core finally snaps; you convulse into a chain of spasms, your breath coming in short, harsh gasps with every throb and every pulse.

“What do you say now, Sora—do you surrender yet?” Law asks as he slows his movements, still relishing the way you flutter and clench around his fingers as your orgasm subsides.

“I-I surrender, Stealth Black,” you manage to utter between harsh, choppy breaths.

“Good.” Law stares down at you for a moment, head cocked, his pupils blown with lust, taking in the sight of your shivering body in the costume you made just for him. “It’s a lot more fun that way.”

He’s insatiable, his actions frantic and almost wild as he strips his shirt off and hastily unzips his jeans, pulling them just far enough down his hips to pull out his pulsing cock, the reddened head already shining and smeared with precum. He guides himself to your cunt, running the tip through your slick folds, before easing himself into you, inch by inch, until you groan at the feeling of fullness when his hips finally meet yours. His thrusts are frenzied, voracious, his every movement filled with pulsing, vibrating need—you’ve awoken something deep within him, an aching need that he needs to fulfill.

“You look so perfect, honey,” he moans into your mouth as he captures your lips in a long, drugging kiss, his tongue making sweeping, swirling motions inside your mouth. “You’re so good to me.”

You wrap your arms around his muscled shoulders and arch into him, tipping your hips to meet each powerful thrust, as his lean hips snap against your body, pushing you against the mattress. His low groans reverberate in your chest, every thrust even more desperate and demanding than the last, chasing after his own release.

“Fuck, fuck you feel so good,” he says in a low whine, nipping at your neck as he rocks into you with a steady, urgent rhythm. “Gonna cum, sweetheart. Gonna cum so hard for you.”

Law’s thrusts become more and more erratic, his hips stilling for only the briefest moment before he groans and shudders, spilling himself into you as he mutters your name again and again in blissful gratitude. He rests on top of you for a moment, kissing down your neck, flicking his tongue over your jaw and nuzzling against your cheek, before he flops down beside you with a contented huff. He pulls you into him, tucking you under his arm and kissing your forehead softly, humming under his breath.

“That was so much fun,” Law manages to utter between sharp inhales.

“Yeah? You liked your birthday gift?”

“I loved it, couldn’t you tell?”

“Oh I could,” you smirk, feeling his cum leaking out of you, stickiness spreading between your thighs. “I still like to hear it, though. Hell, you made it feel like my birthday, too.”

His elongated fingers flit over your upper arm, drawing little patterns in the now-rumpled fabric of your shirt as you lay in satisfied silence, only the sounds of your slowing breaths and the occasional rustle of the tangled sheets mingling in the air.

“You know,” Law utters after a moment, “we are gonna have to work on your dialogue though—I have some back issues of Sora that would probably be the most helpful. We can read them together if you want.”

“Law…”

“What?”

[kaiijo]

LOVER — RORONOA ZORO

roronoa zoro + i take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover content: gn! reader

request a character and prompt for my spotify wrapped event here!

dinners between pirate crews don’t usually occur since your alliances are fragile and you’re all prepared to fight at a moment’s notice. but given the collaboration between the strawhats pirates, the heart pirates, and the kid pirates, it’s safe to say that you’re all a bit more reassured that no one’s about to slice someone’s head off.

you accept another glass of wine from robin as usopp rambles on about how he took out at least thirty marines in your latest high-sea tussle. across the table, zoro snorts and gives you a dead-eyed stare that has you giggling behind your cup. 

you and zoro have been dating for quite some time, having begun only a few weeks after you joined luffy’s crew. neither of you have been inclined to tell the rest of your friends in order to avoid merciless teasing as well as mitigating the damage should your relationship go south. if it does, only the two of you will know about it and stew over it — the least amount of risk, you both agreed.

franky glugs down another stein of beer, laughing jovially, “alright, alright, i’ve got an idea!”

“oh? and what’s that?” robin asks, resting a hand on her chin. 

“let’s play a game. gotta spice things up!”

“hey!” usopp protests. “my stories are super spicy!”

“yeah, right,” kid snickers, “they’re also lies.”

usopp glares and is about to retort but franky beats him to the punch, saying, “truth or dare!”

“really?” deadpans law. “isn’t that for kids?”

“aww, you need to loosen up, cap!” shachi says, nudging law. “i’m down.”

franky says, “i’m sure everyone knows the rules. only thing is if you refuse to answer a truth or do a dare, you drink!”

luffy perks up. “yeah, alright! that sounds like fun! zoro! zoro! truth or dare?”

your boyfriend smirks. “dare. do your worst.” 

“i dare you to eat one of your swords.”

zoro’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “no way!”

“gotta drink then,” you say to him. 

“not a problem.” zoro lifts his stein to his mouth and you watch with appreciation as his bicep flexes and bulges under the tight t-shirt he’s wearing. he easily chugs down his beer, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. 

zoro dares sanji to throw out his collection of dirty magazines that he found under sanji’s bed; sanji asks nami who she would date if she could date any crew member (“ew, none of you.”); nami gets bepo to perform one of uta’s songs and bepo asks franky what’s the best kept secret he’s held from you all. 

franky smirks at law and says, “alright, law, truth or dare.”

“truth.”

“if you could hook up with anyone on the deck, who would it be?”

law frowns at the question and you’re sure he’s going to drink instead but when he says your name, the ship erupts into chaos. nami and ikkaku elbow you, their grins suggestive and encouraging; sanji glares at law; shachi, penguin, and bepo gape; and kid and luffy howl with laughter. you sit there in stunned silence, your face on fire, and you can’t look at law.

you chance a peek at zoro and find that, in all the ensuing chaos, he’s nowhere to be found. you catch the door to the belly of the thousand sunny swinging closed and you immediately stand, heading downstairs. you ignore everyone’s questioning shouts in favor of searching for your boyfriend. 

“zoro?” you call. “zoro!”

you wander the halls for a few minutes, checking the kitchen, the men’s quarter, the gym. you find him quickly, though, inside the energy room. he’s sitting on a crate, expression sour, and you plop down next to him. “you okay?” you ask.

“i’m fine.” 

you study him — his profile, the slope of his nose and the sharpness of his jaw, the way the low light of the room makes his tan skin look golden. you sit quietly with him for a few moments, listening to the engine of the ship run. zoro holds himself rigidly, unnervingly still, but you can feel the irritation rolling off of him, can still see the tension in his body. 

you reach over, brushing your hand against his brow to smooth out the furrow. he looks over at you, still scowling but a little less intensely now. you say, “i’m guessing what law said bothered you.”

he shrugs. you sigh, “it’s just a game, zoro. i’m sure he didn’t even mean it, probably said the first name he thought of.”

zoro grunts derisively, “he definitely meant it. look at you.”

you can’t help the pleased feeling the rushes through you but you don’t let it show as you let your hand fall to his shoulder. “it’s just a game. doesn’t mean anything.”

“yeah,” zoro says. there’s a beat and then he says, “i hate hidin’ this.”

“really?” you can’t hide your surprise. zoro’s the one who initially brought up keeping this from everyone.

“i’m sick of it,” he says. “sick of the fuckin’ love cook always saying shit to you. i hate when guys flirt with you and i can’t fuckin’ do anything because the rest of the damn crew is there and luffy’s makin’ me watch his scarf down twenty plates of roast beef.”

you snicker at the memory, which pulls a small smile at of zoro. you rest your head against his shoulder and he mutters, “hate that the fuckin’ doctor said you.”

“we could tell them, you know. i think it’s okay now.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” you say. “i’m, like, super in love with you so you’re stuck with me.”

zoro snorts, “yeah, yeah. love you too.”

“are you ready to endure all the teasing from franky, robin, and nami?”

“for you, yeah.”

you tilt your head up and kiss his jaw. zoro grins, leaning down to catch your mouth with his. 

When you break apart, you ask him, “I would’ve placed money on you going to the gym. Why’d you come here?”

“Oh. I got lost.”

“You two okay?” asks robin as you and zoro resurface. the game seems to have finished and everyone’s back to drinking and chatting, though they all turn to you when they hear robin.

“yeah, we’re good,” you tell her. “we actually have something to tell you.”

“what is it?” nami asks.

“we’re together,” zoro says. “have been for a while.” and then, unexpectedly, zoro’s arm wraps around your hip and pulls you close.

the ship erupts into the chaos again with you and zoro in the middle. somewhere among all the yelling and gasping, law taps your shoulder and apologizes, which you wave off with an easy smile and zoro gives a firm nod.

nami shakes her head. “i can’t believe you two kept this from us!” and then, she turns to you. “zoro? really? you could do so much better.”

you wind yours arms around zoro’s waist, crushing him in a sideways hug. “nope, i don’t think so. he’s all mine!” 

nami gags and robin smiles calmly. “i’ve always known.”

you and zoro stare at her. “what?”

[mc-cookies]

Golems and Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy

I did a writeup about how a character based on the Jewish folkloric golem might work in Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy! It includes a short essay about the thematic implications of the golem, and a set of custom rules for living dolls made of unfired clay.

If you don't know what Eureka is, it's the first tabletop RPG by @anim-ttrpgs, an up-and-coming indie studio making carefully designed and rigorously playtested tabletop games outside of the D&D 5e ecosystem. Eureka is a system for stories where amateur investigators look into intricate and (sometimes deadly) mysteries, trying to get to the bottom of whatever conspiracy is at hand. It also has robust rules for a variety of supernatural phenomena that may or may not exist, letting players explore the thematic and logistical implications of people who are vampires, man-eating alien shapeshifters, supernaturally animated dolls, or a variety of other strange creatures. It's one of the best RPGs I've ever played or read, so if you're interested in finely crafted tabletop games, mystery and detective stories, social commentary on the rights of "unsavory" marginalized people, or just supernatural creatures that eat people, I'd recommend checking it out.

My writing under the cut!

(I wouldn't normally post my own long-form writing here, but I felt good about this and also couldn't pass up an opportunity to talk about Eureka. This isn't very polished, so ignore any typos or awkward wording, but feel free to check it out and give your own thoughts. Enjoy!)

Thoughts on golems in Eureka (Essay – Rules below!)

Contrary to how the word is usually used in English-language fantasy media, a golem in its original context is not just a generic term for any supernaturally animated artificial creature. (If it were, then it would be more or less synonymous with Eureka’s use of the term “living doll” to begin with!) Rather, it refers to a specific creature in Jewish folklore: a facsimile of the human form made out of clay, animated by various words of power placed in or on its body, acting as a source of protection and power for the impoverished and oppressed communities which created it. It is a servant which exists to meet a need of its community, animated by the power of God as channeled through the expertise of a meticulous member of the Jewish community. (Arguably the most notable difference from the genre fiction definition is this inherently Jewish perspective. The creation of a golem is a closed-practice, specifically Jewish tradition, and also, the tradition of Jewish mysticism implies high degrees of specialized knowledge – some written down in studied texts, and others discovered by training under a mentor or interacting with other Jewish leaders. In this way, the golem implies a degree of studiousness and community engagement on the part of its creator, both of which are heavily emphasized values in Jewish spheres.)

My analysis of the thematic role played by the golem is probably best represented in the best-known folkloric golem, the golem of Prague. In this story, a 16th century rabbi of the Prague synagogue creates a humanoid form from clay with the purpose of protecting the ghetto (in this context, the dedicated Jewish quarter of the city) from pogroms and other antisemitic attacks, animating it into a golem by inscribing holy words on its head or placing a scroll of those words in its mouth. Things go wrong in ways which vary from telling to telling, with a common version of the story stating that the golem becomes too dangerous and destructive, and the rabbi removes the inscription of the holy name to render the golem dormant (although rather than destroying his creation, he preserves it in the synagogue’s attic to be reanimated if it’s ever needed). In a fun bit of wordplay, some tellings describe the holy inscription as being the Hebrew word “emet” (“truth”), which is only one letter away from the word “met” (“dead”), with the idea that the rabbi deactivates the golem by erasing a single letter. More traditional interpretations would describe a formula consisting of various divine epithets, either instead of or alongside the previous method. In the Jewish mystical tradition, names of God are thought to be emanations of God’s own glory, and invoking their power in specific ways is seen as a way of causing things beyond the bounds of normal reality.

A few thematic points jump out at me about the golem, both from the story of the Prague golem and from the broader characteristics of the golem. One is the fact that a golem is implicitly lacking in personal identity. Golems are almost never named, and they have very little agency in their own stories – in almost every version of the golem of Prague, for instance, it is deactivated because it has gained too much autonomy. It fights the wrong people, uses too much force defending its community, or even just falls in love, and so it is too dangerous to keep around. Even the terminology being used implies this lack of identity, as it etymologically derives from a Biblical Hebrew term, used only once in the Tanakh, which describes the unfinished form of a human before God breathes life into them. A golem is not perceived as a fully formed individual, but rather as an extension of its creator, built by someone else’s will and discarded whenever it isn’t needed. To me, this has a high degree of relevance to the themes associated with Eureka’s living dolls, who often also grapple with defining their own identity and purpose in the absence of their original context. Their unique struggles evoke concepts of alienation and depersonalization, and I think a golem without a master would have to deal with all of the same issues on that front as they navigate life as a newly independent person.

Golems as a whole, and especially the story of the Prague ghetto, also raise another problem that can create thematic conflict for a character: in their attempts to defend vulnerable people in their community, they can end up making situations more dangerous, rather than helping to defuse them. When the golem of Prague rampages, in many tellings, it doesn’t fully stem the tide of antisemitic antagonism. Instead, it destroys more of the ghetto and allows the gentile population to create a post-hoc justification for their hatred of the Jewish community. In the context of Eureka, I think that this can be a powerful metaphor for how the fear of oppression can lead people to become paranoid, closed off, and destructive to themselves and others. A golem whose purpose is to protect and serve the people around them might want to do just that, but if they find themselves in a situation where superhuman strength and stamina can’t solve a problem, they may be in way over their depth, and they might accidentally harm other people when they try to navigate that. (My use of the phrase “protect and serve” here is no accident – one of many inspirations for this thematic element is people who call for increased police presence in their neighborhoods, even when those communities are more harmed by over-policing than they are by crime. Being afraid and wanting to support their community spurs them to action, but it also blinds them to approaches that don’t use force.) For example, one golem character I’ve come up with has had to flee her home and change her name because she saw someone being harassed, didn’t know her own strength, and intervened in the first way she could think of: violently. She was lucky not to be arrested.

To get a little bit more specific, this theme is most specifically inspired by my own experiences in discussions among members of the Jewish community, as the scars from millennia of marginalization, expulsion, and murder don’t fade quickly. Paranoia is a veritable norm even within our households and places of worship. In our homes, many of us keep passports readily available if there’s a need to escape or show identification, and during any prayer service at a synagogue, there will likely be armed security guards standing at the door. Many of us laugh about it, but there’s a degree of genuine fear that we can’t shake. Often, that fear is harmless, but it can get exhausting to live with, to say little of how it affects other people or how it can be weaponized by bad actors. One look at how the Israeli government seeks to justify its violence in propaganda makes clear that the generational trauma of Jewish communities can be exploited and warped as a means to justify some pretty awful things. The figure of the golem is, in a sense our communal power fantasy – it’s comforting to think that with a bit of ingenuity and some elbow grease we can design our own hero to protect us and help us thrive – but even that fantasy is not free of the reality that, like a superhero, a golem’s innate abilities just aren’t always enough to save everyone. (Indeed, this tension is part of what inspired the Jewish creators of Superman: he has superhuman abilities that he uses to protect vulnerable people, but not every problem can be solved by punching it, and with all his strength he has to be very careful not to destroy everything he loves. This has been noticed by a lot of people, and I’m far from the first to bring it up, but in particular I’d say this observation is borrowed from the excellent video essay “The Golem and the Jewish Superhero” by Jacob Geller on YouTube.) A golem being fleshed out as a character can really lean into that tension.

One more theme I want to bring up is not something I’ve come to any particular conclusions about – it’s really just a few spare thoughts I’ve had rattling around, and an invitation to look into this concept more. It comes out of my research on the development of the word “golem” in Hebrew and Yiddish, as the term has developed beyond just the connotation of a humanoid clay form. It can be a pejorative term like “fool”, but more interesting to me is its use in reference to embryos and pupas. This made me consider the transitory nature of the golem as a representative of change, which I haven’t seen explored very much in any stories out there. Not only has the word gained those connotations, but also, looking at the characteristics of the golem as a creature gives some more fuel to that fire. The fact that it’s generally made out of specifically unfired clay gives it the sense of being unfinished. Its nature of being created in its adult form from the very beginning means that it can display a childish outlook as a seeming adult learning about the world outside of its creator’s life. The story of the golem of Prague even has an ending hook entirely centered around the idea of the golem being temporarily disabled but capable of being reanimated if need be. This idea of a golem as a character with a unique capacity to adapt and change hasn’t been explored very much, but I think it could be interesting to consider.

The last thing I’ll leave here is thoughts on character creation beyond themes. In this document, I’ve included a custom set of rules to play a living doll made of unfired clay, which is the traditional material for a golem. This isn’t playtested in any way, but since Eureka doesn’t try too hard to be balanced around physical attributes, I think it should probably work fine – it’s more thematic than anything. To make a golem, the doll’s purpose should be external in some way, pushing them to help and support other people in their community, especially the most disadvantaged of them. In terms of backstory, the details of a golem’s past can be left fairly foggy if you’d like, but the one thing that can’t be skipped is that they were intentionally created by a Jewish creator invoking Jewish traditions. It’s fine to make a living doll that was animated in some other way, but the character would not be a golem in that case. It’s similar to how Eureka vampires must have some association with Christianity, not because non-Christian undead monsters can’t exist, but because outside of that context, the specific vampire mythos lacks any meaning. (Honestly, also, if you don’t have background information about Jewish life and culture, I would recommend asking someone who does to help with your portrayal.) Finally, in terms of giving a golem a hook to investigate a mystery, it could of course be anything, but there’s one aspect in particular that I would consider: in some versions of the Prague golem’s story, it protected the ghetto by looking into cases where Jews were accused of murder and finding the true culprits, thus clearing the names of the accused. Which is to say, there’s genuine historical precedent for golems investigating mysteries, and it often happens as a means of helping people who are falsely accused of a crime. That’s not mandatory, but it could be fun to keep in mind. Have fun, and if anyone ends up playing a golem investigator using these guidelines, please let me know!

Wet Clay Living Doll – Rules

A living doll made from earthenware materials that have not been hardened by firing. This variant was originally designed to represent the golem of Jewish mythology, but it could also be used to portray, for example, an unfinished art project or a proof of concept for another piece. Depending on their construction and the flexibility of the clay they are made from, they may be treated as jointed or unjointed.

Wet clay living dolls weigh more than twice as much as an average person of their size would. They cannot swim or float, and will sink to the bottom of any body of water immediately.

These living dolls take half damage from all weapons while they have at least 1 point of Superficial HP remaining. Damage from falling is unaffected. Wet clay living dolls are immune to electrical damage.

When a wet clay living doll encounters fire or high heat (in excess of about 500 ºC), their outer layer of clay is fired and becomes hard and brittle. When this happens, this living doll should be mechanically treated as an unjointed living stone statue. If another character has access to tools to chip away the outer layer and a large supply of wet clay to replace it, they can reverse this process with a Full Success on a Technology roll. Regardless of the result, this process will take 1 Tick of time and cause 1 Superficial Damage to the living doll.

Wet clay living dolls are easier to repair. Do not apply the -3 Technology penalty when restoring Penetrative HP.

Wet clay living dolls generally possess superhuman strength, but when they are hurt, they may lose chunks of clay that would otherwise generate weight and power. They have a +5 Contextual Bonus to Athletics and Close Combat, but for each point of sustained Penetrative Damage, this bonus is reduced by 1 point.

Given 1 Tick of time, appropriate tools, and a supply of clay, a wet clay living doll can alter their physical appearance and proportions. They cannot precisely change specific details such as facial features, but can make themselves larger or smaller, change their perceived distribution of fat and muscle, and change the shape of their body enough to be recognizably different. When a wet clay living doll attempts to alter their body, roll Technology.

Full Success: The living doll successfully alters their body to exact specifications. They are able to completely alter their facial features and/or specify a new height and body type, and even on close scrutiny they will not appear out of the ordinary.

Partial Success: The living doll mostly succeeds in altering their body, but they get sloppy. They take 1 Superficial Damage, and close inspection reveals that parts of their skin have abnormal marks and blemishes, but they are still able to make the changes that they hoped for.

Failure: The living doll struggles with even the most basic alterations, doing a messy and imprecise job. They take 1 Superficial Damage, and cuts and blemishes are visible across their skin. They also don't convincingly make the correct changes to their bodies, doing either too much or too little to differentiate themselves from their previous form.

[theloganator101]

The Great BNHA Review: We Live in a Society

The world of fiction! The place where everything in the story happens. So when you're worldbuilding there are many things to take into consideration to make the world of your story feel alive.

From the people that inhabits it, the cities, towns, villages, and locations the characters live in. And even having a set of rules to follow to avoid plot holes and help the world they live in make sense.

Much like how despite technology being more advanced compared to real life, yet still not being able to have flying cars or advanced robots. Those kind of things can sometimes break immersion in the story, and as a writer you would want to avoid that as much as possible.

HOWEVER! The world BNHA takes place in doesn't make a lick of sense when you think about it for more than thirty seconds, and the foundation of the world breaks the more you think about it.

Case in point, UA!

I think at this point we all can agree that UA wasn't an actual school and instead a glorified boot camp to train child soldiers to fight. And for a series called MY HERO ACADEMIA!! There's hardly any academia in it at all.

Apparently Hori didn't wanna bother with that part of the series and being forced to write "boring" scenes and just get back to the exciting battles. Like where're the scenes of the class studying for their latest tests? Where're the scenes of the kids doing their favorite activities? Where're the scenes of them bonding with their superiors?

WHERE'S THE FUCKING ACADEMIA PART OF THIS GOD FORSAKEN SERIES!?!?!

You can't just name it My Hero Academia and only give us 20% of what the show is called! It just feels like false advertising at this point!

Also about the whole child soldier thing? Yeah let's go deeper into that.

Why are we relying on TEENAGERS to fight in these big battles and save the world when they've only been in hero school for a single year? That's literally like forcing teenagers to discover a cure of a disease when they've only taken a year of biology class!

And yeah, I get it, it's an anime so it's expecting you to suspend your disbelief, and they already had experience with fighting villains before so it would make sense to recruit them. But again, these are fucking teenagers and we shouldn't be relying on them to fight battles the adults should be able to handle!

This is one of the biggest problems of having your story take place in a world similar to modern real life, because here adults actually gives a shit as to what children go through and knows it would be fucked up to send them to fight in war! And the excuse of it taking place in Japan and thus how they do things is different compared to most countries is NOT GOING TO CUT IT!

These grown ass adults should KNOW bringing kids to fight in a war is fucked up and should NOT be encouraged! But since they're so desperate they choose to get them involved! The only exception to this is Rock Lock since he already knows this!

Okay, let's step away from the whole child soldier thing and focus on something the story never gave us introspection of... the fact that we never got to see how quirkless people are really treated.

It's explained that 20% of the population is quirkless, so almost a quarter are born without it. And from what we saw of Izuku's life with it, discrimination must be a common thing in their society. So it would make sense to explore that since it's tied to the main character's backstory and how he's going to make things better for others like him.

... Except that's not how it goes.

We never get to see how the life of a quirkless person is like, we never get to canonically see Izuku interacting with someone like him with the only exception being Melissa. But the thing about her is that she grew up on an island and her father a respected scientist, so it's kind of difficult to tell how the quirkless life is like if this is the only example we get... and it's not a good one.

But wait! There is a canon major character that was also quirkless like Izuku! And it's Yuga Aoyama. And how did the story treated him?

Oh it was revealed real late into the story with no awareness and treated him like shit for being an unwilling traitor, then replace him with Shinsou who whined and complained his way into the Hero Course.

Uhh, what the fuck?

And the worst part about all this is that Izuku has no reaction or acknowledgement whatsoever! He doesn't sympathize or feel less alone, he doesn't comment or say anything about this! So it's like what's even the point!?

Oh don't worry, we'll come back to this whole Izuku not acknowledging his past later in the review! But there's one more thing I wanna talk about in this world.

Is how blatantly biased society is to the Heroics occupation.

From what we've seen and learned, people are not allowed to use their quirks in public. And that the only way would be able to legally use them is to have a provisional license... which is only obtained if you're training to be a hero.

Uhh, but what if you don't wanna go into heroics? What if there is a person who wants to be a comedian? A layer? A construction worker? What if they have quirks that they think would help them in their jobs? Would they get in trouble if they tried using their quirks on the job? Is the Provisional License exam the only way to be able to use your quirk freely? Is there another test people can take to get one if they don't want to go into heroics?

Yeah you see what I'm trying to say here?

Since Hori's so focused on getting to the next big battle that he barely thinks about the world BNHA takes place in and leaves holes in the process. The world of BNHA feels more like a dystopia where heroics is all that matters and that anything else is boring and not as interesting. And since the world itself is so flawed, that I don't feel immersed into it at all and all I have are these questions on how things are run.

So in the next part, we'll be taking a look into the themes and messages the story tries to tell it's readers... but oh boy, did it really fumble with it's messages.

[seineko]

diluc ragnvindr x reader

warnings: none, just fluff, diluc just raising my standards higher by the second.

happy birthday, mr husband. thank you for making me simp so hard that i can't even concentrate on studying for my semester exams tomorrow. WHAT IS THAT BIRTHDAY ART?! IT'S ILLEGAL.

the whole of mondstadt witnessed how their uncrowned king fell in love.

for them, it was like watching a romance movie, seeing how the main character slowly changed, bit by bit.

at first, the glance that was directed at you was of indifference, diluc just noting what drink you wanted as you stuttered it out from beside lisa, pushing your drink towards you before tending to another customer.

then was the look that showed acknowledgement when lisa introduced you as a junior from sumeru, who came to mondstadt to work under her. all he did was nod, sparing you a glance. nothing more, nothing less.

the next change in the way he looked towards you was something a lot of people noticed, but only one witnessed. the way he looked and acknowledged you with respect everytime you passed him, giving a small nod whenever your gazes met. the reason will always remain a mystery to the people of the city of freedom.

not to a certain cat allergic archon, though. he did not mean to pry, but who in their right mind would ignore a scene that played straight out of a novel when you happened to stumble upon it? not him, definitely.

so he watched, slowly sipping from his bottle as you patched the cat that diluc was holding, eyes blown wide with panic but hands as steady a mountain. he did not know what happened before, but it wasn't hard to guess.

though, even the bard wasn't so nosy as to look on when diluc's gaze shifted from the cat to you.

the change from respect to adoration was gradual, but not subtle by any means.

the more the time the two of you spent together, the stronger the gaze grew. it still held the respect from before, but the adoration just settled in alongside it, never to leave.

it was kaeya who got to witness the addition of absolute tenderness in his brother's eyes. he was heading back towards his quarters after a stroll with sister rosaria, that's when he noticed you both, lost in each other's embrace. so much so that even as a drunkard passed you, loudly singing, neither of you even showed a sign of breaking the hug.

the tenderness directed towards you when the hug finally broke sent kaeya back to his childhood, when his big brother had almost the same look but directed towards him. that was when he knew that the dark knight hero did not have any plans to let you go.

affection that made it's way into the eyes of the eldest son of ragnvindr was what adelinde noticed first.

the night was cold, strong winds and heavy rain hit mondstadt. she was waiting for the winery's master to come back, towel ready in hand.

soon enough, he did return but with his hand clutching onto a figure behind him, both panting heavily as their clothes dripped the water down onto the carpet.

ever the gentleman, diluc thanked her politely before grabbing the towel from her hands and leading you towards the fireplace, making you sit in front of it while drying your hair with the towel in his hands.

the head maid was about to leave but the look in her young master's eyes made her feet freeze to the ground, heart fluttering as she witnessed them shine after almost 4 years.

adelinde hoped with all her heart that you would never leave the red haired man behind before she strolled back to her bedroom.

the love that spread into his gaze was for only you to witness.

love that sent your head reeling as soon you your eyes fluttered open, still in his embrace as he slowly cupped your cheek. the small, soft smile that settled onto his face was enough to send your heart into a rampage, feeling both as if you're drowning but also as if the you took a breath of the most fresh air this world possibly had to offer, simultaneously.

the chuckle that left him when you cuddled into his embrace, hiding your face in his chest, did not make it any better.

your situation only worsened when he pressed a sweet kiss onto your head and pulled you closer, whispering;

'wish i could stay like this forever.'

this man was a hazard to your heart.

©2023 by seineko @ tumblr

[dontmixpaintinyourcoffee]

Rewatching Yellow Jacket, I can't help but really appreciate how the main trio are written, especially in regards to money. I feel like the easy way to go would be to have a story about greed, forgetting where you came from, ego, blah blah blah. That's the cliche cake you get from the ingredients set up in the first act. But I really, really love that they didn't go that way. Hannah doesn't want money for luxury. She won't say no to it, but her primary motivation is entirely about making Lex happy. There's no bullshit about how money can't buy happiness, because it kind of can. Not happiness directly, but it can sure as fuck buy security, stability, and resources. Ethan has never seen anything close to 100k in his life. And then what they do with a quarter of it is, objectively, irresponsible. Because they're still kids. What would be treated as frivolous in a less compassionate story is vital to these characters. They buy games and toys and ice cream, fill the house with arcade cabinets and a bounce house. Ethan gets so excited that he forgets to get a bed for himself and Lex, but he gets Hannah an extravagant water bed because he loves the kid with all his heart.

Lex has been working shitty minimum wage jobs since she was 16. She had to drop out of high school because she literally couldn't afford to not work for those 8 hours a day. She takes all the hours she can get, she sells whatever she can get her hands on, she takes the consequences onto herself, she takes the snide remarks, she takes the verbal abuse, she takes all of it because she refuses to let Hannah suffer the way Pam did. The hyper-awareness of money bleeds over to Hannah too, no matter how much Lex tries to protect her from it. She knows that a child should never have to worry about bills and medical expenses and if food is gonna be on the table tomorrow, and she doesn't want Hannah to feel the same anxieties that she does. But still, this kid, on her birthday, sees a tablet she could win, and her first thought is that she could sell it. Because fun is a luxury, and she knows it.

So Ethan blowing 25k on games and pizza and candy- it's not silly to them. It's not frivolous. He's giving them both, but especially Lex, the childhood that was taken from them. That was taken by late stage capitalism, and poverty, and a school system that let them slip through the cracks, and an abusive, negligent parent. It's not the most responsible thing in the world, but it's not about the games or the junk food. It's about the ability to eat the junk food and have time to play the games. It's about Lex not having to feel guilty for spending the day with her sister when she could be working. It's about being able to stay up late for Hannah's 15th birthday, because she doesn't have to take a shift the next day. It's about having the time and energy to study and pass the test without entirely burning herself out and hurting the people around her. It's about these three people finally, finally having the resources to feel real, safe, full joy in their lives, and more.

Thank you for joining me on this week's episode of Why This Scene Of Two Twenty-Somethings Sleeping In A Bounce House Made Me Cry, and now back to Dan with the weather-

[draculasfavoritewife]

No Word For Hero

Summary: You love him and the way he will always be your protector, but sometimes facing the truth is the most terrifying thing of all.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Warnings: Nightmares and discussions of death. The one-two punch of angst and fluffiness all in one. This one is a fair bit more somber than my other Mando stuff.

Another trope I will never ever get tired of -- the "having a nightmare while sleeping with your partner" routine! 🥳 Gets me in my feels every time, particularly with a character like Din who (to me at least) canonically also has frequent nightmares. I first drafted this one a couple summers ago as a result of all my feelings after that big moment in "The Marshal", as I'm sure will be obvious.

*Translations of less common words/phrases in Mando'a at the end

It's coming, exploding up from beneath the billowing sands, looming over everyone, titanic, monstrous, ravenous....

...He turns to you, ever so briefly, tilts his head in that meaningful look you know all too well...that damn look that means he's going to play hero again.

Damn his altruism.

When is he going to stop?

You already know that answer, too. It lurks forever in the back of your mind, awake or asleep, always whispering there, a constant venom ever deepening its grasp around your heart until one day the cold reality finally breaks it.

He'll stop when he finally doesn't come back to you.

When he's at last granted the warrior's death you know he desires.

Only then.

You can't even scream as he disappears down the dragon's throat, too frozen with horror to make a sound....

You bolt upright, gasping for breath, damp hair clinging to your face and tears running down, their salty tang sharp on your lips.

Stupid nightmares.

"Go away," you mutter, rubbing harshly at your eyes. "Just stop."

The cot is small, realistically much too small for two adults, and your distress is painfully evident to the man sharing it with you, whose arm has just been violently dislodged from its place around your torso.

"Bad dream?"

He sounds tired. He hardly ever sleeps through a full night at the best of times, and even then it's rarely a deep sleep.

If the old saying "sleep with one eye open" were actually true, Din would be its personification.

You curse your overactive mind a second time, for disturbing his precious few moments of rest along with your own.

"I'm fine." You don't lie back down, instead pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms tightly around them. Normally you find his quarters chilly, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins makes the room suddenly feel close and stuffy.

He shifts against you in the dark, no doubt to study your posture. "You don't sound fine."

You sigh. "I will be. You should try and get some sleep, Din."

You hear him lean back into the wall, a long exhale betraying stiffness somewhere in his muscles.

You've offered him the side of the bed that's not right up against the wall, but to your surprise he actually likes to be pressed closely between your body and the solidness of metal at his back.

You suspect it gives him a sense of security in a life that holds so little for him.

"I'm sorry I woke you," you add before he can speak again.

"You didn't." His revelation is cool and distant, as if his lack of rest means nothing to him. "I haven't slept at all tonight."

You turn to stare at him in dismay, only to be met with the void of deep darkness. "Why didn't you --"

"What? Wake you up to tell you I can't sleep?" Somehow you know he's shaking his head at you. "That fixes nothing, Cyar'ika. My sleep was disturbed since long before we met." His voice softens as he reaches for you, his large, comfortingly familiar hand stroking down your side. "But when I have you in my arms, listening to your breathing, I can at least find some peace. And that is often enough."

You let out another shuddering breath and gaze out into the dim compartment, the images from your nightmare replaying over and over behind your eyes like a holovid stuck on loop.

"I think I need some air," you murmur.

"Take my shirt, then." You're grateful he doesn't try to stop you; he knows you were taking care of yourself for a long time before you two struck up your partnership. He trusts you to look out for danger.

"Vor'e, Cyare." You slide from the bed, his fingers trailing away from your hip as you break from his gentle touch. He watches as you blindly take his shirt from the pile of clothes left on the floor and pull it over your head, pausing only to grab a vibroblade before exiting his quarters.

"I'll come back," you promise softly.

And the words sting deep down as they leave your lips, knowing that one day, one of you might not be able to keep that promise.

The night is cool and clear on this planet, and the breeze smells like living growth from the thick woods nearby. It's a far cry from the dust and smoke of so many of the worlds you've stayed on before, and soon you start to calm down, heartbeat returning to normal and perspiration drying at the wind's light touch. Everything is peaceful around you, the night birds calling and water flowing somewhere behind the trees.

Not for the first time, your thoughts stray towards the impossibility of trying to stay somewhere like this place, to drop everything you know and carve out a life on a frontier planet somewhere. You and Din and Grogu, living modestly and secretly away from the prying eyes of the Imperials or the Jedi, pretending at normalcy....

There's the key word.

Pretending.

You've played many parts since you lost your buir so many years ago. Dancer in the clubs of the Core worlds, thief, animal wrangler, pilot, hired gun. You could adapt, you feel fairly certain. It's the skill that's most reliably kept you alive this long.

But Din....

He's so deeply entrenched in his upbringing. His honor, and the hunt, mean everything to him. Whatever else he tries to be, he will always be the Mandalorian first and foremost. The Way runs through his veins, thicker than blood, and the fierce heart of a warrior beats beneath the beskar.

It's why he will ultimately always make sacrifices to keep those under his protection safe.

It's who he is. His identity.

The reason that one day he might not emerge from the belly of the beast in triumph.

And you love him, exactly the way he is. You'd never ask him to change.

But Maker, sometimes the knowledge of what that means hurts deeper than any physical wound.

So you stand there at the edge of the woods and let the tears come, let the sobs wrack your body as you bury yourself deeper in his comforting shirt, praying that the day never comes that all you have left are memories and clothes that smell like him.

Eventually, your grief runs its course and you can breathe once again. The crunch of footsteps in the damp grass warrants a side glance, but as you thought, it's only your beroya, come to check on you, no doubt.

"You've been out here a long time," he remarks.

"Had a lot on my mind."

He encircles you in his arms from behind, chin resting in the dip of your shoulder. You're surprised that he didn't replace his helmet to come out here, but sunrise is still a long way off.

"I'm usually the one with the nightmares," he teases softly. "This one must have been rough. Want to talk?"

You find his hands at your waist, interlock your fingers with his.

"I lost someone. Someone very important to me."

Turning slightly so you can rest your cheek against his, you kiss the very edge of his lips. "It scares me, Din."

He's quiet for some time, and you try to imagine the expression on his face.

"I'm sorry," he finally whispers. "I can't give you anything but my word that I will always try my hardest to come back to you. That is what fuels me, ner'kar'ta. The fire in my blood, the strength in my bones, is knowing that I need to make it back for you. But I realize that it is a double-edged blade. Because it also means I would give everything, to keep you safe in the end."

"I know, Din. I remember what my buir used to tell me, you know, how we have no word for 'hero' in our mother tongue, because to be Mando'ade is to risk all for the ones you love. I know I'm so selfish." You turn all the way around at last, hiding your face in his bare chest. "But I accept your vow. And it will have to be enough."

Collecting yourself and finally raising your haunted gaze to his, you manage a small smile. "But I will fight for you, Din Djarin. Death will find one hell of a struggle when it finally comes for you, I can promise you that."

"There's my girl." The fond grin in his voice is audible. "Now, will you come back to bed? It's getting lonesome in there."

You let him lead you back to the ship, and the sigh of the wind now seems to promise to whisk your fears away for the time being.

The door slides shut behind you, and you shiver, realizing all of a sudden just how cold you are. His shirt is a welcome barrier against the biting chill, and you wonder how he was able to get along without it outside.

"Cold?" he asks.

"Yes." You reach out for him, wordlessly begging for his warmth.

He sidesteps you and folds his arms across his chest. "Take it off," he demands, and indicates the shirt with a nod, husky voice brimming with humor and a shade of something hungrier. "Or I will."

You hug the worn fabric closer to your body and shake your head mutinously. "But it's the only thing keeping me warm!"

"So you've chosen the hard way." He crosses the small space in a couple of long strides and starts to tease the garment off of you, bit by agonizing bit. "And how dare you let a piece of clothing do a man's job."

"You're making me cold again," you complain as he pulls you into bed with him, the hunter retreating back to his lair to finish off his fortunate prey.

"Then honor dictates I repair the damage I've caused," he hums, and you surrender to the bliss of being completely enveloped in his embrace. Din has always run hot, ever since you started sleeping together, and his warmth and familiar weight are so much better than any sweet dream of yours could be.

In the here and now, he's still alive, and he's still yours.

There will be no more tears tonight.

"Better?" he growls into your throat.

You run your fingers through his thick curls, sighing at the way he always manages to banish all of your dark thoughts away. And maybe now there will even be time for him to get some sleep before morning as well.

"I am now."

Vor'e = Thank you

Buir = Parent

Beroya = Bounty Hunter

Ner'kar'ta = My heart

Mando'ade = Child of Mandalore

[mrcowboydeanwinchester]

🌸 Sapphicnatural Statistics Spreadsheet 🌸

link for the spreadsheet here!

hello hello! in may 2024 i completed a university essay studying the subversive shipping conventions of sapphicnatural fanfic in the Sapphicnatural Collection over on AO3, with the thesis that sapphicnatural ships are often rarepairs with little-to-no grounds in canon (e.g: a guest character/one-off character who have never met on screen), conversely to standard fanfic practice. as part of this, i gathered some statistics about the fics in the collection, got slightly carried away with the scope, and made a giant spreadsheet with 6 sheets of various data. with the project over, i thought it would be nice to share it with tumblr in case anyone else finds it helpful or just interesting!! i'm likely going to post the essay that i wrote alongside this in the next few weeks, so give me a shout too if that's something you'd like to see

to pique your interest, the spreadsheet includes:

Notes on methodology and the vocabulary used

Statistics on the popularity of each sapphicnatural ship in the collection and the frequency of characters featured

Analysis on some significiant ship factors: whether the characters have met in canon and how frequently characters re-occured in the show

'Ship potency', a new framework i'm workshopping to quantify how 'viable/strong' a ship is, specifically when measuring the makeup of femslash ships against mlm ships

i've written up some of the key points i found and some extra analysis about them under the cut, so read more if you're interested! <3

Contextual note: there are 129 fanfics in the Sapphicnatural collection.

Top 5 most popular Sapphicnatural ships:

donna/jody (10 fics)

anna/mary (7 fics)

jo/cassie (6 fics)

anna/ruby (5 fics)

kaia/claire (4 fics)

21 unique ships have 3 fics per ship. 24 unique ships have 2 fics per ship, and 52 unique ships have 1 fic per ship. So, only a quarter (25.3% of ships) have more than 3 fics written about them.

Rarepairs (and thus multishipping) are much more frequent in Sapphicnatural fanfiction than across most fandom fanfic collections which often centre around a specific ship

Have the characters met in canon?

Only 34.2% of ships involve two or more characters who have met on-screen in the show, with 59.6% of ships featuring two or more characters who have never met

4 out of the 5 top ships are between characters who met in the show's canon

BUT the most common dynamic is between two characters who could potentially meet in canon (are alive through the same seasons/at the same location (hell/heaven) at the same time) but who never meet in the show

This idea of 'canon potential' is the most exciting space for a lot of sapphicnatural writers, where finding gaps in the existing narrative and placing two similar women together to explore what their relationship could look often seems to be more inviting than those established on-screen

What is the spread of side/guest/one-off characters in ships?

A third (32.9%) of ships are made-up side/guest character

None of the characters featured are main characters (as none of the women spn characters can be realistically classed as 'main characters' lolol)

17 ships feature at least one one-off character, with 3 being one-off/one-off

Sapphicnatural fanfiction has a unique appreciation for reinforcing attention to minor characters, often as part of a feminist agenda to restore their agency

How frequently are individual characters featured?

Jo Harvelle is the most popular character in the sapphicnatural collection, involved in 15 unique ships across 34 fics. So, over a quarter (26.4%) of the fanfics in the collection feature Jo

Author's note: honestly this could be my individual impact on the collection as a jogirl oops

Mary Winchester is involved in 14 unique ships across 25 ships, so both Jo and Mary are significantly multi-shipped. Mary features twice across the top 5 ships

Sapphicnatural writers often write in service of a particular character rather than a ship - ie. exploring Jo's sapphic identity is more important than who her relationship is with

Charlie, Anna, Ruby, Claire, and Bela are the other characters involved in more than 10 fics each across the collection

Ship potency:

I explain this concept more on the sheet itself, but I essentially assign numerical values to whether a ship is (possible in) canon or not, how frequently characters re-occur in the show, and how popular a ship is respective to the fandom (as sapphicnatural is small, donna/jody is popular with 10 fics, for example)

This is to gain a measure of how 'strong' a ship is, assuming that a standard mlm ship will rank highly in most of these criteria (control variable of destiel ranks 29.5/30, whereas the average potency sum for a sapphicnatural ship is 11.8)

Across the top 5 ships, the average potency sum is 20.9

4/5 of the most popular sapphicnatural ships are in the top 5 for ship potency, with donna/jody, anna/mary, kaia/claire and anna/ruby having strong canon foundations and so high potency ratings.

jo/cassie is irregular as the third most popular ship because they only rank 14th for ship potency, as the pairing have not met on-screen in canon, and features a one-off character

Ships with higher potency sums do tend to be slightly more popular, but there isn't a clear pattern among any of the ships. I'd like to do some more work with this to fine-tune the system

Wordcount, kudos, and hits:

Average wordcount of a fic is 3,511 words. This fits with my other working theory (links to my post about my history essay on women's fiction through the feminist waves) that sapphicnatural writers utilise short stories and one-shots to most succesfully explore sapphic identities

Average kudos is 48, with a median of 13

Average hits is 353, with a median of 122

So: sapphicnatural fanfics receive a fairly low level of interaction, especially when compared to the mlm ships in the Supernatural fandom (destiel, etc). This is in-line with most fandoms and femslash as a whole - a small, dedicated community are reading and writing sapphicnatural

I didn't explore much here, but it would be interesting to go into further depth anout how many fics in the collection are written by different authors, etc

and that's it from me! if you've made it down here, you're an absolute gem and thank you for sticking with me! hope you foundd it as interesting to read through as i did to write up - and that you give the spreadsheet a nosey too if you fancy <3

[50calmadeuce]

Ch. 4: Walk and Talk (R)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my own imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts. :)

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin remains seated to your left as you continue to stare into the flickering flames of the bonfire.

He takes another sip from his beer bottle, then glances at you. “You want to go for a walk?”

You look at him, then shift your gaze to Phoenix and Rooster across the fire, still deep in conversation and growing a bit more cuddly by the minute. Jake’s eyes never leave you, studying your every movement.

“They’ll be fine, and you’ll be with me,” Jake said, his voice steady as he locked eyes with you. The glow of the bonfire reflected in his green eyes.

You met his gaze and nodded. “Sure.”

Both of you stood up, and Phoenix and Rooster glanced over at the two of you. Phoenix wore a questioning look, her eyebrows raised.

“Just taking a walk, Phoenix. I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman,” Hangman assured, his grin returning.

Phoenix turned to you, still uncertain.

“I’m good,” you replied softly, giving her a reassuring smile. With that, the two of you began walking down the beach, the sound of the waves mingling with the crackling fire behind you.

You start heading toward the water when Jake gently grabs your arm, pulling you closer to him.

You look at him, confused.

“Jellyfish. Safer over here,” he explains, his tone calm.

You nod, agreeing. “Got it.”

The two of you continue walking in silence for a bit.

“The moon reflecting off of you is beautiful,” Jake says, his voice softer now.

You stop walking, taken aback by the compliment. “Look, Hangman…”

“Jake. You can call me Jake,” he interrupts, his eyes holding yours.

You take a deep breath, trying not to get lost in the moment with the extremely handsome man in front of you. It’s been a long time since you even thought about another man. “Jake…”

Just then, your phone rings. You pull it from your pocket, glancing at the screen before looking back at Jake. “I have to take this. Excuse me.”

He watches you intently as you step away, his gaze never leaving you.

“Yeah.” You listen to the person on the other end, nodding as they speak. “That’s fine. He should be fine until I get home next weekend. Okay. Bye.” You hang up the phone and walk back to Jake. “I apologize.”

He looks at you with concern. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Everything’s fine,” you assure him with a small smile.

You continue walking along the beach together.

“Kid?” he asks, curiosity laced in his voice.

“No. Well, kind of a big kid. My Friesian. He injured himself before I left, and he’s been giving my stable hand some grief.”

“A horse?” he questioned, incredulity in his voice but also a hint of relief. “You ride?”

“Yes,” you reply.

“That’s great! I grew up on a ranch in Texas.”

You look at him, surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah. Nothing fancy like a Friesian, but mostly Quarter horses, Mustangs. You know, your typical ranch horses.”

“Nice,” you say, nodding in understanding.

“So, you own a farm?” he asks.

You smile. “No.”

Jake sighs, exasperated. “Again, you don’t say much.”

You grin, keeping the teasing tone light.

He opens his arm, beer still in his left hand. “Go out with me tomorrow.”

You look at him, a brief flash of fear crossing your features. “Are you serious?”

He places his right hand on the center of his chest. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Why?”

He slowly walks toward you, stopping just inches away. His face is close to yours, and his eyes lock onto yours as your heart starts to race.

“Because, Darlin’, I’ll be damned if you didn’t feel the same way I did the first night you walked into that bar with Phoenix and looked at me.”

He leans in closer, his proximity making your pulse quicken. Just as your breath catches, your phone rings. Jake steps away, frustration clear in his posture. Still, you answer the call, the tension between you both thick as you walk far enough away that he can't hear your phone call.

"Hey, Abby. What's up?" you ask, your tone light.

"Hey, Doc. Just a heads-up, your mother-in-law called," she says.

"There's a shocker," you reply sarcastically.

"She's asking questions about you," Abby continues.

"I'm at a conference in California. That's all she needs to know," you reply, your voice firm.

Abby’s voice crackled through the phone again, pulling your attention back to the conversation. "I get that, but she seemed a little... persistent. I’m just saying, be careful. You know how she can be."

You sighed, rolling your eyes, though it did little to ease the frustration brewing inside you. “I know. I’ll deal with her when I get back. I’m not in the mood for her games right now. How's Christian?" you ask, softening your tone.

"He's fine. He went to the library today and we did a class. He's actually asleep now," Abby responds.

"Well, send him my love, and I'll see both of you tomorrow," you say, a smile tugging at your lips.

Abby smiled. "Will do, Doc. Talk to you later."

You hang up the phone and walk back over to Jake.

"Everything okay?" he asks, his gaze searching yours.

"Yeah. Everything is fine," you reply, offering a reassuring smile as you tuck your phone back into your pocket.

Jake studies you for a moment longer, his eyes lingering on yours as if weighing your words, but eventually, he nods, his usual confidence slipping back into place. "Alright," he says, his voice low and steady. "But if you need to talk, or if you just need to get away from whatever’s bugging you, I’m here."

The sincerity in his tone catches you off guard, and for a moment, you wonder if he truly means it—or if it’s just his way of being the charming guy everyone expects him to be. Either way, it’s a strange comfort. A comfort you hadn't felt in a long time.

"Thanks, Jake," you say quietly, not sure how to fully explain the way you’re feeling in that moment. There’s a weight lifting from your chest, just a little, knowing that someone is offering you a bit of space to breathe.

Jake’s grin returns, a little more playful this time. "No problem. But I’d still like to get to know the real you, Y/N. Not just the quiet version."

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. "You sure you’re ready for that?"

He steps closer, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "I’ve got nothing but time, but seriously… go out with me tomorrow."

The words hang in the air between you both, his gaze intense yet playful, like he’s daring you to accept his offer. You blink, caught off guard by the suddenness of the invitation, but there’s a part of you that feels a thrill at the thought of stepping outside your comfort zone.

You turn slightly, meeting his eyes, trying to gauge whether he’s being serious or if it’s just another one of his playful challenges. His smile hasn’t wavered, and the mischievous glint in his eyes makes it clear that he’s not backing down.

"I don’t know, Hangman," you reply, teasing but with a hint of curiosity in your voice. "What exactly does a date with you look like?"

Jake’s grin widens, and he leans in just a bit, lowering his voice slightly, "That’s the fun part—you’ll find out when you show up." His tone carries that same cocky confidence, but there's something deeper there, an underlying sincerity that gives you pause.

You tilt your head, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. "You’re a persistent one, aren’t you?"

"Persistent, yes. And patient," he responds with a wink. "So, what do you say?"

You pause for a moment, then sigh. "Fine. I'll go on a date with you tomorrow."

Jake’s eyes light up, and the grin that spreads across his face is a mix of satisfaction and mischief. “I knew you’d come around,” he says, his voice dripping with playful confidence.

You roll your eyes, but there’s no hiding the small smile that tugs at the corner of your lips. “You’re really something, Hangman.”

“I’m just persistent,” he quips, stepping back as if he’s giving you some space, though the glint of victory in his eyes is unmistakable. “Dress casual, but you’ll want to wear something you’re comfortable in.”

“Comfortable?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “This isn’t a casual date?”

Jake chuckles, shaking his head. “Let’s just say it’s not your typical dinner and a movie. You’ll see.”

With that, the two of you head back towards the others around the bonfire.

Tags: @smoothdogsgirl @alwayshave-faith @devil-angel-winchester @khouse712 @illisea @hookslove1592 @tgmreader @juliemarauderfan

[sapphoshands]

it’s shocking why the great majority of authors in this fandom who are mostly agathario shippers don’t write agatha harkness going through history fucking other women or even fucking rio and leaving her and instead write aus where they can easily be happy. flabbergasting. i actually don’t even particularly like mundane aus and i would love if there was more fics set in canon with a happy ending but they are far harder to write so i don’t pretend that i don’t get it why one is much more popular than the other because i didn’t just discover fandom

see, but despite your implications, i don't actually think it's a skill issue! there are certainly well-written au fics out there!

but what you say about just wanting a happy ending is interesting, and i guess comes back to the dichotomy i see between 'wanting to think about women with the actors' faces' and 'wanting to engage with the canon and the characters.' which is not to say that i can't think of a dozen ideas right now for agatha/rio stories with happy endings within canon, including but not limited to the classic-for-a-reason fix-it fic (some of which i have seen, to be clear).

certainly the academic work that has been done on the coffee shop au - much of which i am assuming to be broadly generalisable - emphasises the pleasures of mundanity and repetition while questioning the lack of conflict or difficulty. and certainly questions of ic versus ooc have long plagued the au genre. but i feel like there used to be a lot more of a mix basically regardless of fandom, like au used to be a fallback once more of the in-universe stories were told, and now i see a huge push right from the off and it fascinates me.

and it especially fascinates me in this fandom because to me, so much of what makes the characters, and so much of what makes the characters interesting, is the complexity and drama of their dynamic. and the rush to erase that is surprising. i'm not trying to be disingenuous. i just think that canon in this case gives so many opportunities for so many different kinds of stories that it blows my mind the ratio of canon to au is what it is. noted grifter agatha harkness has probably done a little of every possible profession out there! gimme that sweet sweet character study!

but this is also the fandom where one of the biggest fics is ai-generated, so maybe it's not that deep.

(sorry, did you not expect me to take this ask seriously? because i'm genuinely interested in what seems to me to be a big change relatively recently, based on more than a quarter-century in fandom.)

[voidcat-senket]

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY JEDI SURVIVOR!

Please enjoy a collection of Cal Kestis/Bode Akuna fanworks to celebrate! Find the AO3 collection here!

tear down the planet for the hype

FIC AND ART | 4.8k | Teen and Up

“only my friends can call me by it. well, and my masters.” kestis shrugged before stepping back to sit on a stool that seemed randomly in the middle of the room. “but, we are engaged, it would be pretty weird if you were calling me by kestis.” “if it helps, my name is bode,” the jedi shadow said as he stepped forward, holding his hand out for kestis to take if he so inclined. “calling me knight akuna would be too formal for a marriage, whether or not it’s political, and—well who knows, maybe we can become friends?” [jedi shadow bode is given a mission that will end the war—marry sith prince darth kestis. that is, if he survives the first meeting.]

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Order 66 Didn't Happen, Arranged Marriage, Jedi Shadow Bode Akuna, Sith Cal Kestis, First Meetings, Marriage Contracts, Negotiations, Bode Akuna is a Mess, Fluff and Humor, Pre-Relationship, Stewjoni Cal Kestis

FIND THE FULL ART PIECE HERE

Paper and Stone

ART AND FIC | 7.4k | Teen and Up | includes Bode/Tayala

Cal goes to Nova Garon to confront Bode, but he finds the man's quarters full of echoes that show him a side of Bode Cal never thought he'd see.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Psychometry | Force Echo (Star Wars), Cal goes to Nova Garon but finds more than he expects, echoes upon echoes upon echoes, SpyScrapper, if you wanted more of Bode and Tayala's relationship here you go

FIND THE FULL ART PIECE HERE (and a secret bonus here~)

love is death, love is dying; love is steel, a silver lining

FIC | .5k | Teen and Up

Cal is wary of the blaster Bode has given him. Bode teaches him some basic gun safety.

Tags: Guns, Canon Compliant, Sort Of, Maybe - Freeform, You Decide, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Missing Scene, Implied Relationships, Angst

Second Date! An Ode to Visual Novels

VIDEO | 1hr | Teen and Up

Tags: visual novel, time travel fix-it, time loop, simulated dating sim, Bode POV

fire still burns in a vacuum

FIC | 1.6k | Teen and Up

It's been a year and Cal returns to the observatory for the first time. He hadn't expected someone else to do the same.

Tags: Grief/Mourning, Character Study, Relationship Study, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Author Welcomes All Interpretations, This Is a Study On Cal's Grief With a Twist at the End, Post-Canon, Canon-Typical Dark Themes

FIND THE FULL ART PIECE HERE

Roots in Place of my Heart

8.8k | Mature | includes Bode/Tayala

When Bode saw the date, he had to swallow down a mix of blood and bile. There’s something growing in Bode’s chest, filling out the space that was left vacated when Tayala died and took his heart with her. They say the only cure to grief is life. Or death.

Tags: Hanahaki Disease with my own twist on it, Angst with a Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Body Horror, Love Confessions, Pretending you’re fine even though you’re very much not, Grief/Mourning

Lights Glow in your Wake

FIC | 5.4k | Teen and Up

Cal gives Bode a gift for their anniversary. The trouble is- their anniversary isn't for another three weeks, Bode is sure of it.

Tags: Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Canon, Domestic Fluff, Anniversary, Established Relationship, Planet Tanalorr, POV Bode Akuna, POV Third Person Limited, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Jedi Culture & Customs

Blue Skies Over Bad Lands

FIC | 18.6k | Mature

Bode looks up and Cal’s gaze snags his immediately, drawing him in. The rebel Jedi is a remarkable combination of wariness and vulnerability, like no matter how hard Cal tries to steel himself against the pain, his grief and longing and love are too strong, too pure to be contained. They shine through the cracks like a ray of blazing light. (Or: Bode and Cal fall in love. It complicates things.)

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fix-It, Mild Sexual Content, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Pining, Confessions, Secret Identity Fail, Canon Rewriteish, Cal Kestis is a Force of Nature and Bode couldn't get off this ride even if he wanted to, They're In Love Your Honor

I Don't Wanna Say No to This

FIC | 4.1k | Teen and Up

Bode is not actually looking for Cal Kestis when he trips over him on his way out of the bar. He’s looking for work, actually— he needs to fix up the ancient freighter he’d wound up buying for Kata and himself, that first awful week after finding Tanalorr and feeling it clutching at him in the Force, the planet a near-sentient thing, clawing, greedy… He shakes off the sensation, hopes it’s only a memory, and looks down at Kestis. He’s unconscious, his face a single bruise, and there are four beings surrounding them. None of them look like anyone he’d leave alone in an alley with anyone, even someone who most likely wants him very dead.

Tags: Bittersweet, Angst, Miscommunication, Reunions, Forgiveness, Rescue, Implied/Referenced Slavery, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Bode was not ready to face his past, Cal's not emotionally capable of facing his past, Together they make like one entire functioning person, Past Relationship(s), Established Relationship

FIND THE FULL ART PIECE HERE

a soft place to land

FIC | 3.8k | Mature

A hot day on Koboh leads to a shared shower and a realization - sometimes it's nice to be taken care of.

Tags: Smitten Bode Akuna, Bode Akuna Lives, Hair Washing, Making Out, i still don't know how to tag these things, Fluff and Mush, Near-Human Cal Kestis, Again, sharp teeth sharp teeth sharp teeth, Body Worship, Smitten Cal Kestis, Soft Cal Kestis, POV Bode Akuna, soft intimacy, Light Angst, showering together, Not Canon Compliant, Post-game, We call this "fluid dynamics" with the way Cal and Bode keep switching