#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).

[dobits]

CALLIE & ANGEL -- NIGHT FORTY

location: evening / the boat cruise

featuring: @graftisms

ANGEL

“how much are you loving this?” judging by angel’s grin, he can tell the answer is a lot. still, seems like he’s enjoying watching her enjoy it more. sat at one of the bar’s tables they can overlook the ocean and watch the water lap warm and forceless against the side of the vessel. “how’s it compare to your old man’s boat?”

CALLIE

"oh, i'm buzzin'," she laughs, not having enough tact to even pretend otherwise. her eyes are on the ocean as if there's a pod of dolphins out there, when in reality she's just missed actually seeing the water. "comparing his boat to this is like comparing... that guy," she points to the average looking bartender, "to chris hemsworth." no offense, mate.

ANGEL

“well, this is kinda a bit much anyway,” angel defends mr. michaels with a shrug of his hand. “like, you can’t even feel the spray on a joint like this.” the yacht seems designed to negate the whole point of being on the water, all the messy, salty, fun bits he imagines you get on a good ol’ fashioned fishing boat. “— chris hemsworth?” he arched a teasing brow at her. “see, i knew you had a thing for the josh types.”

CALLIE 

"yachts are too much for you?" she teases, brushing her knee against his under the table. "no, you're not wrong. this thing is massive. i went to find the loo earlier and got lost." on a boat! ridiculous. the mention of naomi's boyfriend immediately makes callie's nose wrinkle. "josh wishes he looks like chris hemsworth," she shakes her head, "but nah, that was just the first, like, conventionally hot guy i could think. i'm more of a chris pine girl myself."

ANGEL

“only when i don’t have my cigar,” in that posh, upper crust tone. a hand curls the back of callie’s knee, pulling her leg between his as he leans forward to court a kiss. “maybe we should go find the loo and get lost,” he suggests, grinning. “you look beautiful, y’know.” a snort has his head nodding, isn’t entirely surprised by any of that. “i’m kinda more chris evans vibe. but, like, not another teen movie era.”

CALLIE

she leans forward to meet his kiss easily, hand resting on the top of his knee, giving it a squeeze. "i'm willing to bet jenny and jude have thought of that already," she jokes, but it's not exactly a no, eyes shining. "chris evans? what teen movie was he in?"

ANGEL

“please, as if they’d do us all the favor of finding somewhere private,” angel quips. knowing those two, they’d start exploring each other’s bodies right there on the dance floor if it suited them. a cheshire grin stretches over his mouth, too pleased she’s opened herself up to the joke name of the movie. “not another teen movie,” he repeats, hardly restraining laughter. “c’mon, i know they have parody movies in australia.”

CALLIE

callie laughs through making a face, eyes sweeping around to see if she can find them. safe to assume what they're doing since she doesn't see them. "good for them," lips press together to hold back a smile, shaking her head. "naur, sorry. the only movies we have in australia are nature documentaries, and stuff with nicole kidman," eyes widen in faux disappointment. "no, i've just never heard of that. sounds stupid."

ANGEL

the corners of his eyes crinkle as he laughs, his head shaking. “you’re out on the water for an hour and already you’re ODing on aussie-isms.” not unlike the way she gets when her and dylan talk together, or jude and adela. he scoffs dramatically. “it’s not stupid, it’s fucking hilarious and you’re gonna love it when i make you watch it.” angel squeezes the back of her knee again before he leans back in his chair, smiling at the prospect of still learning things about her. “what kinda movies aren’t stupid then?”

CALLIE

"me? have you heard eden, she always sounds way more aussie," she argues, as if it's a bad thing. it's not, but callie likes to think that her few years in america makes her a little more cultured than that. "you should be keeping a list at this point." it's not the first time he's told her they're gonna watch something, nor will it be the last. there's a pause as she considers the questions thoughtfully, before shrugging. "i don't know, i'm not much of a movie person," she admits. "but parody movies are made to be stupid, aren't they?"

ANGEL

“nah, you been really hittin’ those naurs lately, it’s cute as fuck.” between her and jude, he’s definitely going back to LA with a few extra slang terms. angel brings a finger up to tap his temple. “already keepin’ a list, babe. we’re gonna start off with fast and furious. every single one.” he’s laughing because he fully could’ve called that, callie doesn’t exactly seem like the kinda person to sit home and geek out over a screen. “no, you’re probably more like why watch a movie when we can just live it?” which, kinda fair. “oh, totally stupid. the chris evans one is a banger though. god, i haven’t seen that in forever.” if only they could pull up netflix or, better yet, just do anything besides drinking and talking about other people’s relationships. “y’know, mr. not-chris-hemsworth behind the bar over there is, like, the only fresh blood we’ve seen in weeks. maybe he’s got, like, exciting news from the outside world.” he’s joking, until suddenly he’s not, leaning forward into callie conspiratorially. “maybe he’s got weed.”

CALLIE

"naur, i have not," she defends, before pausing. "--okay, that time i heard it." eyes roll lightly in jest at herself. "every one? how many are there again?" those movies really don't sound like her cup of tea, but she is curious to see why he likes them so damn much. "wow, you make me sound like a douche," she laughs, shaking her head. "nah, i just don't have the attention span for them. i'm never just chilling alone and think, hm, i should put on a movie." though now she misses them, since they can't watch any here. "victoria and santiago erasure," she laughs, though turns to give the bartender a second glance. the mention of weed has her head snapping back to angel, eyes narrowing playfully. "there's no way," she says, but she's not confident in that, leaning forward too. "should i ask? shake him down? that is the only thing that'd make this night better."

ANGEL

“they’re doing a tenth one,” he tells her, totally indulged. “in one of the other ones vin diesel stomps on the ground and makes an earthquake, man. so sick.” angel’s definitely part of the joke that the movies suck, but he also definitely still likes them anyway. “nah, yeah, i feel that. honestly, i think it’ll probably be, like… a long minute before we’re gonna be able to do the normal chill stuff together, huh?” presumably after this they’ll travel, do press and marketing for their various business deals, do appearances. seems like there will hardly be any time to bop around a random grocery store together. “they’re, like, cast. i’m talkin’ bonafide normal person.” the line is pretty fine. he chuckles lowly at callie’s immediate interest, thrives under that attention. “way. c’mon, boat bartender?” angel points out under his breath. surely this guy has a joint. never mind the fact production can definitely hear them and will squash the bit when they feel like it’s gone on too long. he nods eagerly. “mhm, go toss your hair at him. oh, do that little slanty smile thing you do, that’ll bring it home.”

CALLIE

"you must be joking," her head falls back as she laughs, just at that mental image alone. "i don't think that's actually possible. what are those movies about, anyway? besides cars." or is that what it's only about? callie hadn't actually thought about the next time they can sit down and watch a movie, but angel saying that does make her consider it. "damn, when you say it like that, it's kind of depressing," she admits, with a little chuckle. it's weird to think about when they get out of the show, they won't just be going back to their normal lives; there's the added layer of everything that comes with this. "there's no way they'd let us get some..." but her voice trails off, considering it. what does she have to lose? "alright," she takes a deep breath, smacking a kiss on his lips before rising to her feet. "i'm going in."

ANGEL

“so it starts with them doing street races with their homemade rides and then by the end of the series they’re committing, like… international espionage.” a shrug, like it’s a natural progression. super sick. for someone who’s spent the majority of their adult life working, staying low key and in his lane, there’s a semblance of excitement to living the antithesis. it’ll be like playing a role for a little bit, playing pretend, before he goes back to the shop, back to reality. callie breaking it down to the dubious bare bones though has him nodding slowly with realization. “huh. yeah, i guess, kinda,” he concedes. then he jerks his chin toward her. “at least we’re gonna be doing it together, right?” that’s the silver lining to anything, he figures. it brings a spark of excitement to watch callie talk herself into playing the game with him, especially since she’s about to do all the heavy lifting. “hell yeah,” he hypes, can’t find the restraint to not lean forward and smack her ass when she starts toward the bar. “you got this.”

CALLIE

"oh, naturally," she deadpans with a nod, as if that's the most normal thing in the world. "what's happening in the tenth one, are they going to the moon?" i guess, he says, and it's clear that he doesn't totally agree with her, which makes callie smile to herself. now that she thinks about it, maybe it's for the best that they don't get a movie night in the near future; those movies sound terrible. "nah, it'll be fun," she assures him, because while the idea of celebrity life feels increasingly overwhelming the longer they're here, part of her recognizes she's probably overthink it. it's not like they're becoming the next kardashians. but she feels a bit like one of them while on this yacht, channeling their energy as she struts over to the bartender, arms resting on the bar between them in an effort to come off as cute and approachable as possible. the conversation's quick, only a minute or two, before she's coming back over to angel with a restrained smile, immediately laughing as she sits down. taking his hand, she passes him the only thing the bartender gave her: a cigarette. "okay, that man did not speak english," she tells him, keeping her voice down despite some residual laughter. "i tried to mime a blunt, but... he was so happy to give me this. i didn't have the heart to tell him otherwise." a pause. "or the spanish."

ANGEL

“what you mean? weed is a universal language,” he argues playfully, also trying to restrain his low laughter as he inspects the cigarette. angel heaves a sigh, begrudgingly grabbing a stray lighter abandoned on the table before lighting it up, his hand cupped around the end. “do you think your grandparents are gonna like me?” he wonders randomly, the smile lining the edges of his mouth aware of his glibness. “or, like, oh my god, your friends? are they gonna, like, ice me out if i don’t have a vagina?” it’s a joke, can infer as much but his light chuckles, but it is a vague curiosity.

CALLIE

"then you go ask him for some," she nods in the direction of the bar, but it's half-hearted. callie shakes her head when it becomes apparent he's going to use her own cigarette. "what?" the question is so out of left field for a second all she can do is laugh. "oh yeah, sorry. did i not mention? all my friends are man-hating lesbians," her eyes roll at that. "of course they're gonna like you. hate to break it to you, but we wouldn't be doing this if i thought they wouldn't. besides, you gotta be, like, parent catnip, right?" callie finds it hard to believe anyone just wouldn't like him.

ANGEL

“yeah, flip my hair at him?” angel jokes, a boyish smile settling on his face. it only broadens at callie’s tease. “shut up, it could happen.” he’s sure he’s seen it in a movie once, surely written by a man. the plume of smoke is ripped away by the water’s gentle breeze, he ashes into one of the trays. “nuh uh,” angel defends his nonexistent bad boy image, his smile slanted and bashful and no help. “i mean, i’d try to be. but i’m, like, the guy with no degree, barely a job, mostly a bunch of debt. or i dunno, maybe they’d want you with an aussie or somethin’.” somebody to keep her close, he could understand that considering his immediate plans to steal her away to LA. “tell me about your bestie. not dylan.” ‘cause he just figures.

CALLIE

"is that how you flirt?" she teases, already knowing the answer to that. her hand outstretches, silently asking for the cigarette. may as well, since they can't get actual weed here. "barely a job? don't you run your own shop?" she laughs incredulously. "you do remember i'm, like, actually unemployed, right? my nan's gonna just like that you have ambitions." it's not really something she's thought about, but if anyone should be worried about family not approving, it's probably callie. not just the fact that all she has to her name is a golden retriever and a surf board, but also for having to watch her drama unfold with frankie. now she really does need this cigarette. "um, i have a few of them," she admits, taking a drag from the smoke. "there's hannah and bri, who i grew up with. hannah's still in sydney, which made moving back home not completely dull. bri's over in brisbane now, getting her phd. she's crazy smart." definitely the friend that's the least like herself. "there's also amanda, who was my roommate back in san diego. i'm still really close with her. she's constantly trying to get me to move back, but she's living with her girlfriend now, so it's not like she needs the roomie." she takes another puff before handing it back. "what about yours? are they gonna like me, even though i don't know shit about cars?"

ANGEL

“don’t act like you don’t love it when i flip my hair,” he warns, brows lifting and falling like he’s said something salacious. the ciggy’s slotted between her fingers as he sniffs, cants his head in a shrug and plays with her free hand. “yeah, but it’s, like… not jiffy lube or anything,” angel laughs, modest. “it’s hard to say if i can make it into a thing, y’know?” by all accounts a confession, an admission of his real world fears which feels too large and looming backlit by the silly villa qualms of who’s grafting who. “that’s different. you can do anything you wanna do, plus… like, i’m the one who’s supposed to be taking care of you.” a sentiment laced with a false sarcasm, like the heteronormativity and the gender roles are just a joke. angel does believe it though, if even just a little bit. for all his progressive new agey vibes, he admittedly would wanna make sure he was bringing home the bacon. “i love that you have friends in california,” angel buzzes, his smile thinly veiled. “you know hannah and bri from, like, school? that’s kinda sick, i dunno if i’m still homies with anybody from high school anymore.” he takes the cigarette and ashes it, head shaking playfully. “yeah, you’re gonna be walking a thin line. they’re gonna trivia you for sure.” breaking into a laugh, angel cheeses. “nah, my closest buddies aren’t even gearheads. you’re gonna be fine.”

CALLIE

"what, when you flip it in my face while i'm trying to sleep? it's very cute, yeah." it's not like she hasn't admitted time and time again how much she likes his hair, okay. "what do you mean, make it into a thing?" eyebrows arch, not sure if he's being modest or if she just doesn't have the whole picture. "it's a business that you run and you make money from it, don't you? that sounds like a thing to me. like honestly, angel, that's... really bloody impressive." really intimidating too, because it's so wildly different to the life she's returning to, one where she actually has to figure out what she wants to do. in reality, callie will probably just end up living off influencer money for as long as she can, because optimistic notions aside, she can't really do anything she wants when callie has no desire to work at all. though him making the comment about taking care of her throws her off enough to make her cough up her cigarette puff, reaching for the drink in front of her before giving him a dirty look. "what are all your friends from, then?" she asks, once she can breath again. if he didn't meet them as kids or from work, where else do you meet people? "who am i gonna get to meet?"

ANGEL

“mm-mm, i can’t help flipping it in your face ‘cause you’re always, like, all over me when we’re sleeping,” he exaggerates, enjoying the bickering way too much. an inhale is held for a beat of thought, eyes passing over the waves before slinking back to callie. “i mean, make money…,” mouth twists into a shrug, “like, i break even. i dunno, maybe i just been away too long, y’know? getting in my feelings about it. i’m always kinda wiggin’ that it’s gonna fall flat as, like, a passion project kinda vibe, but, nah, i know i can build it up. hire the right guys, maybe open another location one day.” his fire stokes a bit at the thought of her being impressed, an electric jolt with the steep awareness that there’s a whole lot left they’ll be able to see of each other’s lives outside of the villa. callie’s reaction makes him belly laugh, though he opts not to double down for fear of having her hack up a lung. another drag gives him a little time to recount the origins of his besties. “mmm, so i met jimmy through juno, actually. he’s her ex from college. they didn’t date, like, super long, but me and him became homies, like, that’s basically my brother now. then i met my other buddy, mick, through him. he’s, like, this musician, his family’s all in it and shit, but he stays mostly in new york. uh, aside from them, i really just chill with, like, my cousins, y’know? but they’re all gonna love you.”

CALLIE

"oh, yeah, i'm always all over you?" she laughs, swatting him lightly in the arm. "i'll remember that." an empty threat, and surely he knows that by now. "how long have you had the shop for?" she asks, knowing it takes a while for a new business to make profit. how much time, she doesn't know—she was only a psych major in uni. "having your own business sounds so stressful," callie exhales, a little jokey but also fully meaning it. "but no, it sounds like it's been doing pretty well already, and once we get back? i'm sure there's gonna be plenty of new clients coming in, hoping to see some of that heart rate challenge action," she teases. but it's hard to ignore that this place does come with a platform, one that has the ability to really change their lives. "how does she feel with you being besties with her ex?" callie's trying to imagine how dylan would feel if they were in their shoes, but genuinely can't. she had almost forgotten that he said he had all this extended family, more people that she's going to have to be introduced to. california's going to be overwhelming; callie's been so focused on how easy he's going to fit into her life, she hasn't really thought about whether she'll even fit into his. "how many cousins are we talking about?" she laughs a little, trying to will the nerves away.

ANGEL

between the sweetness and the sarcasm, angel feels like a conduit of cringey pda and yet he can’t manage to feel even a scrap of shame for it. “no worries, if you forget i’ll remind you.” because the lack of personal space in their bed is as much his doing as it is her’s. “like, the physical shop i’ve had for… man, almost two years now? before that i was kinda just working on my own rides and, like, renting ‘em out for photo shoots or whatever. so the shop is more like a new venture.” which doesn’t make it easier to be away for even a couple weeks, though callie’s reassurance has him nodding, believing. “hey, that’s same for you, y’know? every fuckin’ surf brand is gonna be paying hand over fist to get you in their stuff. and you already know i’m hiring you as pit crew as long as you’re wearing that fit.” he sighs dreamily with the memory, teasing as much as he is nostalgic for it. his shoulders shift in a shrug, stealing a last hit of the cig before crushing it into the ashtray. “she’s chill now, it’s been, like, a few years, they both dated a bunch of people since then.” he wonders briefly if those two have backslid before since him and jimmy have become friends, decides immediately to abandon that consideration and remain ignorant. “well, i got, like, seven aunts and uncles and they all got at least two kids each… probably ten or so that i’m actually tight with.” angel watches callie’s face a moment before breaking out into a grin. “you feelin’ overwhelmed?” a concept that tickles him, usually only ever sees her utterly in control, her agency absolutely measured. “don’t worry, i’m not gonna throw you into anything you aren’t ready for.”

CALLIE

"a new venture," she parrots back, because it sounds so fantasy when he says it like that. like he's a real business person—which he is, really. it's surreal to think of her angel as someone's boss, paying checks and working and 9 to 5. does the shop even have those hours? there's something to be said about how callie can probably list which fast and furious movies angel likes in order, but the day-to-day operations of his work is a complete mystery to her. "did you make a decent chunk of money doing that, the renting?" she asks, genuinely. "but yeah, i know. part of me is stoked for it, too. i could use a new wetsuit," callie admits, lips curved. "but i don't know. we'll see. i'm not ready to go back to real life just yet." some parts very much so, but others—like working—can definitely wait. "yeah? can i get a job at the shop?" she squeezes his knee from beneath the table, grinning. "that's good. my brother dated hannah for a bit in high school, but it ended totally shit. i was pissed at him for weeks after." so awkward when your friends date your brother. callie makes a face when he calls her out for looking overwhelmed, though he seems so happy about it she can't help but laugh. "a little bit," she says, not afraid to admit it, "but in a good way. i'm excited for it. my family's gonna feel so small compared to yours, though."

[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.