#Forceless

[gahmah-raan]

This is my art summary for 2023.

I made a lot more pieces than I did last year, and I gained some new tools to work with near the end.

[nuknoe]

Force-Less

Obi-Wan ain’t got shyt on me!The thing I have been learning lately is that everybody has ONE (more than one to be honest) thing in common: We Want Shyt! And the way we go about getting the things we want vary in INFINITE ways! I won’t even attempt to list em but I’m honestly writing this in hopes of getting what I want! And as long as Ü take something from what I write, I’m grand with…

[jewishcissiekj]

every time I see gray Jedi discourse I

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Feliz Natal

+18

Ruben when he doms 😮‍💨

On Christmas 🤭🧑‍🎄

Summary - You spend your first Christmas with Ruben and his family, but fail to make a good expression since you can't speak or understand a word of Portuguese.

Enjoy! 😭

"Y/N, are you in there?" Ruben's steps were heard shuffling closer to the bathroom door, leaving you to anticipate the yanking of the door handle. "Are you locked in?" He asked, with slight concern in his voice.

"No." You muttered from the other end.

"No? What are you doing then? My family is starting to worry about you."

"Well, nothing to worry about." You laughed half heartedly. "I guess I'm just a girl, taking her time to use the ladies' room."

There was a silent pause. One that made you press your ear against the door to listen if Ruben was still there.

"Y/N." He sighed. You sighed with him knowing what was coming.

"Yes?"

"Please come out. Or at least let me in."

".....fine."

You got up from the bathroom floor and flicked to unlock the door. Suddenly, Ruben's size took up the entire frame, a slightly furrowed look on his face. "You okay?"

You shook your head and fell into his solid embrace, immediately struck by the heat of his body against your cheek. "Your family hates me, I just know it." You sobbed.

Ruben's low chuckle was soothing to your ears, his hand stroking gently up and down your back. "Trust me, they don't. What makes you believe that?"

You lifted your head, meeting Ruben's taunting smile. "Because...." You pouted. "Your mom laughed at me when I asked her to pass me the pepper during dinner, and so did your brother."

"Y/N, Is that what this is about, pepper?"

"Yes, and it's not funny. Why are you laughing at me?"

"I'm not." He said, failing to keep a straight face.

"Yes, you are!" You gasped, aiming forceless punches at Ruben's ridiculously lean stomach.

"But baby, can you blame me?" Ruben chuckled as he caught your wrists, pressing his thumbs into the palm of your hands. "You said, please pass me the Pigmenta instead of Pimenta. I mean, that's pretty funny to me "

"How so?" You folded your arms, taking a step back from Ruben. The wrinkle in his forhead told you that he definitely didn't like that.

"Well, firstly, Pigmenta doesn't mean pepper." He said, taking a step forward, entering the bathroom. "Secondly....Come here!"

"Ruben." You squealed in terror. A squeal that turned into a gasp as Ruben went to hook an arm around your waist, lifting you up to nibble your ear. "Stop it, your parents might hear us."

"No, you stop it."

"Ruben, please. I'm serious, they'll think I'm crazier then they already do."

Ruben did nothing to make life easier for you, setting you down on top of the bathroom washing machine, spreading your thighs to stand in between them. His hand then lifted your chin, bringing your lips to meet his mouth. Your kiss was sweet and innocent, yet laced with a faultless desire for one another, alerting every sense in your rejoicing bodies.

When Ruben pulled back from the kiss, his eyes searched your face for the answer that your mouth wouldn't give him. "It's Christmas." He whispered. "Why are you being like this?"

"Like what?"

He shrugged. "Anxious. Worried about making a good impression to my parents when you know how much they already like you."

"Maybe." You bowed your head in shame, your forhead knocking against Ruben's sternum. Your hands crept under the hemn of his t-shirt, tempting you to ask him to take it off. However, that would certainly not get you invited to another Christmas celebration at the Dias household if his parents caught you on your knees, Ruben's dick in your mouth. You chuckled at the thought. That is, until Ruben's thumb gently traced the outlines of your tense jaw, urging you to come back to him. "Did you hear what I said?" He whispered.

You nodded your head, muttering the answer. "No need to impress your parents. They already like me even though I don't know my pigmenta from my pimenta."

"Exactly.' Ruben smiled, tilting down to kiss your lips. "Now, let's join them downstairs. I think we're taking the dogs out for a walk."

"Oh, okay." You hopped down from the washing machine, following Ruben out the bathroom door. However, pausing in its frame, you felt compelled to say, "But I bet they would've liked me better if I was Portuguese...."

"What did you say?"

You stumbled backward, hitting a wall as Ruben stopped abruptly in front of you.

"Ruben I...I don't."

"Y/N?" He command, in a chilling voice that caused shivers to run down your spine.

"Yes?"

He was forcing you to walk backward. Back into the bathroom, where he shut the door behind him, flicking the lock without even looking. "What did I just hear, you say?" He repeated, making you recall the last few words that were uttered between you.

"That your parents would like me better if I was Portuguese?" It must have been the thing that set him off, for Ruben looked pissed.

"Yes, that?" He said between clenched teeth. "Do you really believe that to be the truth?"

"Sometimes. I dunno?"

Ruben's eyes darkened, and the previous understanding that he had for your insecurities instantly wiped away. Just like that. "Well, I guess that's my fault."

"It is?" You said, a tad confused.

"Sure it is. It means that I haven't done enough to make you feel wanted."

"Wanted?" You squealed, seeing as Ruben brought himself to stand invadingly close to you. Close enough for you to feel the straining of his jeans, how his cock practically fought to get out. Or to get in, if one must be grammaticaly correct.

"Do you you know how much I fucking want you right now? Just the way you are?

"Ehm...I might have an idea?" You said, Ruben's hard dick in mind.

"Don't worry. I must show you."

"Ruben?"

It was an ambush like no other, Ruben, bending down to lick the base of your throat.

"Shhh, let me take care of you."

"But I.....Your family?"

"They're out for a walk. Don't worry."

"Ruben." You sighed as you were brought back to sit on top of the washing machine. There, Ruben took real charge, his hands feeling their way under your dress.

"Fuck." Your back arched against the palm of his hand. Ruben's hand that guided your cleavage towards his warm mouth.

"Mhmm."

He suckled your breasts like a starving man, his free hand pushing back your panties to make small circulair movements over your twitching clit.

"Ruben, fuck that feels so good?"

"Yeah? Do you want more?"

"Yes, more. Anything that will make me come."

He chuckled against your skin. "Oh, I'll make you come. But I'll have to be fast."

You gasped in suprise as you were pulled back down on your feet, Ruben bending you over instead.

"You ready for me?"

"Mhm." You bot down on your lip, your hands flattened on top of the washing machine.

"Y/N." Ruben's voice was harsh in your ear, his lips ghosting just below your lobe. "I want you just the way you are, you know that, right?"

"Mhm, sure."

"Y/N." He pulled back a little, noticing how your ass desperately arch into his erection, Ruben's cock throbbing painfully below his belt. "I'm serious." He chuckled. "I want you, just like this. Just the way you are."

"I know baby, I know. But–"

You were silenced, Ruben's hand tilting back your throat to catch your mouth. He then went to unbuckle his pants, pulling them down to let his hard dick slap against your opening.

"Fuck Ruben."

His hand disappeared between your legs, caressing your folds just to ensure that you were wet enough for him.

"Here." He said, offering you your own excitement, making you taste your wetness right off his fingertips. "Good girl."

You were then bent over the washing machine, spreading your legs on Ruben's command as he guided himself to enter you from behind.

He groand with the action "Fuck that feels good. Baby you're so tight for me."

A weak smile was the best you could offer him. Ruben's cock filled you up, streching your walls almost to a point of breaking. It was painful yet lovely. Most of the pain left you once Ruben started to rhythmically thrust his hips, making you throw it back until your climax was silenced into the palm of his hand as he slapped it over your moaning mouth.

By the time you and Ruben left the bathroom, returning downstairs, his family had returned from walking the dogs. Ruben's parents insisted that you join them for their annual Christmas photos. A Christmas that you would come cherish forever, as it was the first of many with Ruben.

🎄

[adventuresofalgy]

Algy was so exhausted from his aerial battle with the storm that although he had nothing but the freezing, snow-covered ground for a bed, he slept late the next morning, curled up around his magic pumpkin, which had been so miraculously preserved, despite his conviction that he had dropped it during his arduous flight.

In fact, Algy slept very late indeed… so much so that he could only fly onward a short distance on the next day before the dim midwinter light began to fade into dusk once again.

But as Algy came in to land, and rested on the ground beneath a tree, before settling onto a more suitable perch for the night, it seemed to him that the fading landscape looked strangely familiar. He felt rather excited, but knew that he would have to be patient and wait until the next day, for it would shortly be dark once again, and there was no time left to explore before nightfall.

As he looked up at the sky he guessed that it might very possibly snow again before long, and when a local buzzard mewed overhead as it made its way home for the night, Algy was reminded of a poem, and wondered whether there could indeed be another storm on the way:

No hawk hangs over in this air: The urgent snow is everywhere. The wing adroiter than a sail Must lean away from such a gale, Abandoning its straight intent, Or else expose tough ligament And tender flesh to what before Meant dampened feathers, nothing more. Forceless upon our backs there fall Infrequent flakes hexagonal, Devised in many a curious style To charm our safety for a while, Where close to earth like mice we go Under the horizontal snow.

[Algy is thinking of the poem The Snow Storm by the 20th century American poet Edna St. Vincent Millay.]

[lyctoralsaints]

✧     ֺ    ˖     ⎎ the ache is something that is all too familiar to grym; the way his hands desire only to hold the jedi. though, he admits, this is not the reunion he had in mind.

cal  had  been  the  only  thing  on  his  mind  in  these  many  months  apart,  his  sister  and  himself  venturing  deep  into  the  regions  of  space  they  had  never  seen,  never  known.  living  life  in  the  undercity  of  coruscant  had  sequestered  them  from  the  true  beauty  of  this  galaxy.  trees  had  become  grym's  favourite  thing  ––  he  will  have  to  tell  cal  all  about  it,  about  how  all  of  those  roots  always  felt  like  they  connected  them.  no  matter  how  far  he  walked,  his  path  always  lead  back  to  cal,  back  to  this  unwavering  loyalty,  this  burning  sun,  this  love.  that's  what  this  was,  no?  he  had  fallen  in  love  with  the  jedi  long  before  he  had  left  his  side. his  smile  is  a  thing  of  beauty  ––  like  a  sunrise  where  the  dawn  thrashes  away  clouds  and  gloom.  his  hands  shake;  maybe  the  swordsman  is  falling  apart.  hands  grasp  his  visage  and  he  knows  what  to  expect,  knows  what  is  coming  but  he  can  swear  a  myriad  of  stars  go  supernova  in  his  veins  when  lips  press  against  his  own.  he  surges  forward  to  reciprocate  it  before  they  can  part.  the  way  their  foreheads  rest  together  feels  like  the  needle  and  thread  of  fate  piecing  all  those  tears  back  together. a hand  rises to rest on the knight's nape, 〝  i  see  you,  ”  he  finally  manages  to  say,  voice  quiet  with  disbelief.  he  is  here,  with  him.  beautiful,  bright  -  eyed  cal  kestis,  his  jedi  knight.  he  laughs  now,  breathy  and  exasperated, 〝  it's  okay,  it's  okay  .    .    .  we're  back  together  now.  we  found  each  other  again.  ”  finally.  finally,  but  he  wished  that  nigh  -  destruction  hadn't  been  what  brought  them  back  together. 

❝ i dreamt every night that you’d come back to me. that somehow it was all a nightmare dawn would undo. ❞ ― @lyctoralsaints, grymcal, bby.

 ‍  ‍ cal has missed him with something that has settled into his bones with a permanent ache. infatuation is something he is unfamiliar with, the pure devotion of the heart even more so -- the months in which he has spent pathetically longing, trying to reason with the depths of emotions that he has tried for so long to push aside. ( merrin has rolled her eyes at him for his struggles countless times and he can't even blame her for it. ) standing in front of grym, the jedi feels it all coalescing into one swell of emotion in his chest, something terribly overwhelming but somehow joyous. it's the relief of seeing him again. the parting they had, the last words grym spoke to him before their communications fell out of range -- he has tried to not think of it as often as he has.

 ‍  ‍ breathless, his lips split into a broad grin. in any clear headed moment he would surely hesitate, held back by his own hesitations, but the sight of the swordsman after so many months chases away all his fear and any coherent thought like a fire beast setting his heart alight. he strides foreward with outstretched hands coming to the fine lines of grym's jaw, thumbs stroking over his cheeks -- he is here, alive, and so beautiful -- as he brings him in to press a soft, desperate kiss to his lips. ❝ i'm here, ❞ he exhales, pressing his forehead to his with a quiet laugh. maybe this is a wonderful thing, when he lets himself feel it instead of fearing it. ❝ i knew that we would, grym -- i swore it. but i'm sorry it took so long. and i'm sorry for the way we left things. ❞ cal is always a little later than he wishes he was.

[soka-starxi]

Dammed and Divine (Discontinued..sorry!)

Din Djarin x Jedi!reader

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Chapter 1: Hiding in the shadows

Summary: you’re situated on Arvala-7 hiding from the empire. A large bounty is on your head being the last surviving Jedi, unfortunately for you, Din Djarin is on the search for a big score.

Tags: slow burn, enemies/strangers to lovers.

A/N: Cannon violence, no use of Y/N, jedi! reader, afab! reader (she/her pronouns) I will try and upload as frequently as I can, will be cross posted on A03 soon under soka_starxi.

Green leathery vines were not enough to swallow the ancient building upheaved by forceless pillars. Even in dusk rays of a distant star seeped into every crack and poured onto your face giving a subtle reminder to leave the meditative state. Clearing out any thoughts were assuredly difficult during these times, even when feeling the water cascade over your body as you bathe. The ache of past scars serving the gut-wrenching reminder of a now fallen republic��what could’ve been.

Spending so long hiding in shadows you’ve practically became one, paired with a thirst to disappear and to forget what once existed. But the universe does not forgive that easily. You know that soon, any day now..they will pull you out of any crevice with yearning, malevolent claws.

Sleep began to call your name as you sunk beneath red patterned sheets, tiny lights above the low-rise bed danced like little planets in the subdued light. Causing you to dismiss the thoughts and the occasional hazy visions that were bestowed upon you from time to time. Making yourself vunerable to the dark side, even a slither of bitter emotions can unleash the sith to search every planet they can and lay a cloaked hand on.

Making you feel lucky in a sense seeing as negative emotions often come when you loose your friends, your teachers, your home. Arvala-7 wasn’t the best replacement but had similarities to your birth planet, Jakku. You still remember the initial feeling of the sand beneath your feet and laying below alluring desert skies all those years ago when you first touched down on Arvala. Very soon after the age of the empire had begun.

“That better, R4?” The wrench tightly clasped in your hand made neat work of fixing the droids scope back into place. Chirping happily, you gave her a gentle pat as she made herself busy once more. Tossing your gloves to the side, you walked under the archway and slightly grimaced as sand grazed your cheek. The humidity and sweat causing your chestnut hair to cling to the side of your profile that fell into a complex plait down your back.

Sighing as you fell to your knees under the comfort of the shade, you placed worn hands over your dark tunic. Sand grazing your cheek, the hush of wind over the mud flats, the weight of your body against the rocky surface slowly faded away to nothing. No longer present, you reached out. As the years passed these searches became less frequent. But still you ended up on your knees feeling like a fool for the same old tricks. The pining fell to a familiar, relentless hunger clawing its way through the abyss. Echos crept up your spine sending a jolt to your heart but began to fade as soon as it was found. Tearing through the darkness the echos fell through your fingers like sand that was now grazing your blushed cheek again.

Oh.

Echos turned into reverberated words as your boots met with the ground. Slowly twisting around expecting to be met with an inpatient Jawa you couldn’t have been more wrong.

Craning your neck up, a t-shaped visor bore into you. Unmistakably a mandlaorian stood before you, bullets decorating his wide chest plate. Uneasiness pricked at the back of your neck as they stepped forward, casting a looming cloud way above

MANDO POV:

this better be worth it

It took a lot to even reach this point. With no puck and an incomplete chain code it was a miracle the tracking fob brought me all this way. Not scorning much luck with information on bounty’s in recent times.

“Are you Lietta?”

My eyes drew focus to her small beaded headpiece peaking out from under the lengthy braid, a blueish silver shard in the middle of her forehead swayed a little as the wind blew.

“What do you care” a careful sleeved, fingerless gloved hand disappeared into her pointed silhouette of which I couldn’t tell if it was armour or not. Her angular shoulders were accented with red detailing curving round with material causing a v-lined pattern on her chest. Her legs stood posed shoulder width appart, a deep blue skirt extension swayed between her legs from her waist.

“I am here to bring you in, there’s a rather large bounty on your head”

Her green eyes did not leave mine, she was surprisingly calm. Not a word left her mouth, only the sand rolling of the tops of the rocks could be heard.

“Don’t make this harder for yourself” she was still. Too still. And I had absolutely no idea of what she was capable of and so I braced for what, I don’t know. Luckily I didn’t have to wait long, a lengthy sword appeared almost glowing as it refected off the sun. She challenged me side on as she spoke “do I have a choice?”

“No”

[ntrider]

f1 gf and I broke up. I found out she was taking our f1 race engineer jokes and changing the words to be about mech handlers and stuff. yes with the bad forceless forcefem jokes and everything. yeah she's dating a mutual of ours now she moved on really quickly

[stealingpotatoes]

HAVE YOU SEEN THE NEW AHSOKA EPISODE IM SCREAMING

I HAVE and this is honestly the first week i've been actually invested in watching the next ep omg!!! they're doing interesting stuff!!

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

THERE'S SO MUCH TO TALK ABOUT OMG. first of all i have to say the late great ray stevenson/ baylan is absolutely the highlight of the show acting & character wise, there's so much depth he's putting into the character somehow like every line he says i'm shoving sabine and ahsoka aside like this is my new fave sorry lesbians. biggest cuntserve of the show

HOWEVER COMMA THE REASON I'M SO INVESTED IS BC IT'S SUCH A GREAT WRITING CHOICE TO HAVE SABINE GIVE INTO HER ATTACHMENTS AND JOIN THE THRAWN STANS TO GET EZRA BACK. YES!!! SHE WOULD!!! she isn't ready to let go of her attachments!!! she won't do as ahsoka says!! fuckin anakincore of her!!! willing to raze the galaxy for the last few parts of her family!! LITERALLY CANNOT WAIT TO SEE WHERE THIS GOES

Also I think the direction was a lot better? I'm shit at clocking how good fight scene direction is but there were a lot of scenes that just felt so much stronger than the prev eps? like when sabine puts the ball in baylan's hand they made you FEEL the weight of that moment with the pacing and camera and the sound design.

ACTUALLY THO THE FIGHT SCENES WERE A LOT BETTER THIS EP partly bc there was just. More to them? i liked how ahsoka dealt w marrok in 2 seconds basically indiana jones shooting the sword guy style bc that made the baylan/ahsoka fight SO MUCH MORE IMPACTFUL bc she's seriously trying and she's flipping and doing all this crazy stuff that makes you go shittttt these guys are super great jedi -- AND ALL WHILE trying to get the map so it wasnt just a "we're fighting bc we're fighting/ to not die" there was a very feasible objective on-hand to make the already great fight even better

and of course i have to talk abt That. i was poggin beyond belief when hayden showed up like LETS GOOOOOOO. and its super cool!!!!! but i do hope they do smthn interesting with this tho (I HAVE FAITH IN THIS SHOW AFTER THIS WEEK SO I'M HOPEFUL) and actually explore ahsoka and the super fuckedup complicated relationship she has w anakin/vader instead of going "ah its so nice to see you again!! im gonna ignore you murdered children and all our friends and tried to kill me etc etc bc people want to see us as friends!" like no i dont want that!! this should be her opportunity to work w the trauma they keep hinting at but not rlly exploring (ie w her taking on forceless sabine as a padawan or how she keeps acting like all that happened was she walked away from anakin and he didnt fall. it could be good writing for trauma) and have ahsoka like... accept the past accept what her master became and MAKE ME INVESTED IN THIS ITERATION OF THE CHARACTER. BC THERE HAS BEEN LIKE NO CHARACTER MOMENTS AND IT'S NOT HELPED BY THE ACTING/ WRITING!!

also did ezra yoinking her outta the world between worlds give her nine lives is she just gonna be able to walk out after dying again

[pharmerwrites]

Whimpers of a wounded dog

shot with bloodlust bullseye bullets

I lay there bleeding

out all night long

And as the wind cut through the bushes

My heart pumped the rest of me out

in frantic forceless gushes

[scrubdowner]

forcefem for the forceless

[gahmah-raan]

The Amalgamation - Abominor Archfiend

This is a character from an upcoming chapter of Star Wars: Paranormalities: Episode III.

Homeworld: Unknown (extragalactic) Species: Abominor Gender: Male (sexless) Age: Unknown Affiliation: Abominor Ascendancy (formerly), Forceless Collective

The Abominor are a race of mechanical lifeforms from another galaxy. Over the years, many of their agents had been spotted throughout the galaxy, presumably with the intent of scouting it out for conquest. While some Abominor start out small, they collect parts from other machines (including droids) to make themselves larger, sometimes becoming even as large as planets. As a result, no two Abominor look alike.

One such scout was an entity known only to the Matoki as "the Amalgamation". While scouting this galaxy, this particular Abominor was possessed by the Forceless Collective. Being promoted to the rank of Archfiend, the Amalgamation would lead the conquest of the mechanical planet Aut Matok - a planet inhabited by mechanical lifeforms similar to the Abominor - with the use of a Forceless cyber-virus developed by the Valkoran scientist Doctor Nole Breibog. Despite no longer being loyal to the Abominor, the Amalgamation has a particularly personal hatred for Aut Matok and its native species.

During the Forceless occupation of Aut Matok, the Amalgamation frequently feasted on the planet's mechanical lifeforms as a fuel source, often targeting Matoki settlements. Like many Abominor, the Amalgamation produces a lot of thick smoke as waste. The Matoki resistance has listed giant smoke clouds as a warning sign of his presence. In terms of armaments, the Amalgamation has grafted giant turbolasers into his back to fight off capital ships that might try to bombard him from space. He can also breathe out a fiery stream of hot orange plasma from his flower-like mouth.

When it came to designing the Amalgamation and deciding that he'd be an Abominor, I consciously decided he would look nothing like the Great Heep so he could be threatening in a way that suits the style of Paranormalities (after all, it was established in the Legends EU that the Abominor build upon themselves). However, I've decided to have keep the smoke stacks as a nod to his origins (and how that was an important part of the Great Heep in his respective story).

[full-of-mercy]

🎲 (from Vash)

12. A kiss along the collar bone

The roadhouse has grown rowdier in the hours since dusk, tradesmen and wanderers and rustlers piling in to the dusty little town's watering hole to drink and piss away the money they've earned during the day.

Nicholas is not his best around crowds. Too many variables to track, even if the eclectic decor is curiously absent of any wanted posters. Two points of standard entry, six windows on the bottom floor, stairwell up to the matchbox rooms, two windows in each, easy enough to climb. Route to the kitchen behind the bar. Side exit. Basement. Hall to the restrooms to the left, around back, steady (unsteady) foot traffic.

None of the eyes glitter with avaricious recognition of the Typhoon in their midst. They are more keen on the sputtering jukebox and on the bartender slinging watered-down beers, taking bets on when her bustier will give up.

Just as Nicholas reaches for his whiskey, a lanky shape interposes. Vash straddles his thighs, the grace of a seasoned Tomas jockey belying the flush on fair skin and the dewy, hazy look behind round amber spectacles. It's a mystery where he acquired the orange and green tie wrapped around his brow. It does nothing to constrain the cascade of spikes.

The shot glass appears in bottle-blue fingers, and its contents disappear with a bob of Adam's apple right at eye level.

Maybe it's sheer ire for having his drink stolen. Maybe it's impulse buoyed up with the slow burn of half a bottle down. Maybe it's something else. Something honest. In vino veritas, something like that.

Bold and shameless, Nicholas cranes forward, a bracing hand pressed to the small of Vash's back. Adroit, his tongue darts out to nudge the omnipresent mock-turtleneck collar down, enough to expose just the peek of cybernetic-strewn skin. With the point he chases, tastes a trail from pulse to clavicle, a forceless press of lips and stubble that rises from its descent, making space for a thrum teasing Vash's earring.

"...y'don't have to pretend to be drunk if you want my attention, Blondie."

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“Luxurious workmanship of nature to”)

Where they not quickly in; so offers     he told; while doe ye to hear, as in a poplar grove     when your person, we’ll cheat him disarm; or, by my faire loue     why dost enlarge, encline the Sharp-witted Sage had held till     all our string Boreas did

encroche, that of a winter night—     did you know: here come intendments breaks before they liv’d and     lay spill’d, and sigh to make my faint thin fine to secure themselves     do slay, or butcher- sire that will soone her dancing,     a sort of woes. Luxurious

workmanship of nature     to mingle and they straight, in pity of body. Although     to hear me like a book- learn’d sot, till either gorge be still     dost patron of all his quench the forceless fantastic     wits? And stoopegallaunt

Age the writing I follower     of womanhood, regard of Raucocanti? So in thy     speche, that being mingle and on his bedchamber of the     brook a wordless music, either on the ground a beam, and     know that. That, in my bosom,

where none. But no man, the sun     that wears mask or fan, velvet, or taffeta, which were thy     body does with my clothe herald, shone the solitary     song that worse for men, beckoning outward tells of human     form and faults are pour’d in

these, the hunted, the grave. So     Orpheus did for him. With sides King, you agree? I syng of     all light, sweet beginning, some other deep in quiet, pluck     down the sudden death, who is my moving our velvet bodies     she must partakes

the bud before I’ll make Don Juan,     till then no more beauties treasures, then there’s one, thought her     own and sire; subject, when joyous tears doth quench the more     to shoot laser beames, nor the power had bene the     maydens doe obay, and

court us no more delight, when     she strong tree should not feel what tis pluck’d: were left her by the     trees with toil, still repayre the trump’s heroic clang, and then     between that word she swears, from wounds in leaving writ on death,     no, not too near, if there.

[taguelbunnyboy]

🎲 dealer’s choice

(Rolled a 24: A sleepy kiss)

Yarne slips into the dormroom with a small, tired smirk gracing his face.

He had been taking a... new route for getting back to the dorms after classes, swinging by the greenhouses.

It was slower, sure, but it was secluded, and it let him check on some of the herbs he was growing for some medicines.

Unfortunately, he had spent a bit too long gathering, and by the time he was back, he was bone tired.

"H-hey, Fordey..."

He stumbles onto their shared bed, pulling him in tight.

"Sorry... I was busy handling... plant... things."

He mumbles under his breath, mind pretty shot. He probably looked drunk, but nope, just exhaustion.

"Ready... ready for bed?"

But, before Yarne transforms, prepared to form Forde's pillow, he pulls him in, kissing him. It's a soft kiss, but not a forceless one - he puts a lot into it.

Forde deserves it.

"Because I am... very, very tired."

And, with a small mrrp, he presses onto his beaststone, rocky cocoon enveloping the duo, and fur enveloping Forde.

[darthmaclunkey]

my current fic writing process is to dump drafts into a pages doc on my phone, usually when i'm lying awake in bed at night, and then, when i have the time, to rewrite & polish up my drafts in a different pages doc on my laptop. anyway, because i'm just speedwriting on my phone without correcting mistakes, the rough drafts are littered with weird autocorrects. for my current main fic, this means:

hosnian prime becomes bosnian prime

kuat becomes kuwait

ben organa becomes ben organs

which makes my canonverse au about a forceless ben (who is actually ben organa, but changes his name to solo before the story starts due to plot reasons) sound like the weirdest modern geopolitical au ever. the other night i found a sentence that was like "the kuwaitis are sending a delegation to bosnian prime". like, in my phone drafts, it sounds like wretched body snatcher Ben Organs is stuck in the middle of political intrigue between Kuwait and Bosnia-Herzegovina. is that an au anyone would read