#Im hella broke

[taxkha]

Hello, hello! I finally opened an inprnt and heeeres a link that takes you there: -> link to very cool prints

I would be happy if you could share this to let others know! And if theres anything that you would like me to add, feel free to ask!

[fas1105]

I got laid off from my awesome remote job the day after I found out I may be developing a physical disability that will limit my ability to work most non-remote jobs. The universe got jokes.

[ghostbsuter]

Can be read as a continuation of this

.・゜-: ✧ :-

It's been a few weeks, really, since the day he met his biological father.

The oversized hoodie drowned him, a perfect haven while he waits near the entrance to arkham asylum.

The whole week rushed by after the event. His mom, wonderful, black belt, kickass mom had fretted over him the whole time, messaging his therapist not long after and getting an appointment.

His dad had been clingy, giving him bear hugs left and right, it felt nice. Jazz hadn't let him out of her sight for one moment, always searching, always studying.

Man, he loved his family.

"Are you going to visit him?" The gruff voice of Batman asks, and danny shrieks, jumping away as he looks at the vigilante with wide eyes.

"Oh Ancients—! Don't scare me like that!" Danny scolds, hand over his chest and breathing hard.

He can feel the amusement wafting off of Batman. Or something.

Huffing, the child leans against the brickstone pillar holding the gate again.

"No," he ends up answering. "I'm not here to visit... him."

Batman listens quietly, simply standing next to him. He doesn't pressure nor demand anything. If danny thinks more of it, he might get a headache.

"My sister is an intern in Arkham, we're gonna have dinner with Harley and Ivy today." A shrug, and the wind lovingly pushes him.

"Good." The man states, he hesitates a moment before he stretches his arm out towards danny, opening his hand and showcasing the items.

First is a lollipop, famous for being handed over to children after being saved by the bat himself. Second is a pin, in the shape of Batman's signature bat, it had a red button on the other side however.

"It's an emergency alert, in case anything like this happens again." Is quickly explained and Danny takes them, if not a bit tense.

He is unused to the trust the man shows him despite how short their time was spent together. Danny wonders if the bat already snooped around.

"Thanks—"

"Danny!"

His head snaps to the gate opening, brightening up as Jazz runs through and hugs him.

"Jazz!" He eagerly hugs back, thank looks up at her.

"You gotta meet Bat—" He trails off when they turn to the empty spot next to the pair, wind rustling leaves just as he finished. "man..."

Damn batman.

Danny huffs and tugs at Jazz's jacket. "Nevermind then, c'mon let's get a nice present before we visit harley."

Simply bringing her up seems to have Jazz excited. "I still can't believe we're having dinner with THE Dr. Harleen Quinzel!!!"

"And her wife."

"aND THE Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley!!!"

Her enthusiasm is rubbing off on him, he grins, hooking up his arm around hers, and they're skipping towards town, laughing like maniacs.

[pachimation]

yowza its chiscara day!!! (6/11/23)

[wittyworm]

ey ey ey im gonna be making a handfull of jonouchi prints 20$ each, which will cover shipping. i can do mini prints for $10 if yall are interested 💚💚

hmu if ur genuinely interested i can do paypal cashapp or venmo 😁👍🍀🦎

[lunaryuwu]

all the things gifted with the simplified chinese translation of orv :)

pic 1: small file with art of the chungmuro gang

pic 2: character profiles (kdj, sangah, lgy, lhs, heewon)

pic 3: yjh character profile (not sure why hes a whole separate card but i guess it’s the protagonist privilege)

pic 4: christmas dokja thingy

pic 5: bunch of postcards

pic 6: big poster but i couldnt figure out how to take a picture of it without it constantly reflecting the light

pic 7: character art of yoohankim

pic 8: kdj’s outfits

pic 9: quotes + super adorable chibi art

pic 10: the books themselves :)

i really like the art for these the artstyle is tasty

[janasdiary]

so i recently moved out of my b6 papertess designs planner because it was too big and instead i started using an a6 leuchtturm1917.

tell me why i just ordered a 2024 spring start cousin..??

[etrevil]

Kyouka: I like crepes

Me: girl me too

[fangomango]

They're in love (you don't know the lore like I do (I also don't know the lore))

[dazaislanderer]

munch

screenshot redraw #7?

[smallishbabes]

NOT TECHNODAD DEBATING ON CALLING THE FOUNDATION

E

LMAOOOOO

[what-is-it-to-be-pk-esque]

My partner finally finished BG3 but has no idea that his ending was actually bad cause he was a pro-Vlaakith githyanki who rode off with Lae'zel but got NO EPILOGUE where Withers points out y'all died im 😭😭😭

they have no idea what happened with Gale or anyone else (who was still alive) after flying away 🙃🙃🙃

[hella1975]

getting repeated phone calls from a job i applied to while half-delirious in dublin upon just waking up not even sure if i wanted to work there like

[fishoutoflovebeach]

spending my last day [today] as a free man [unemployed] by spending time with my loved ones [playing pokemon go] and taking in the scenery around me [literally just that]

[happyandticklish]

You can't just fucking make them sisters because you're scared of homosexuality like wtf

[imogenkol]

Pairing: Imogen Kol (oc) x Bix Caleen Word Count: 2,941 Rating: Mature (18+) Warnings: casual sex implied, jealousy, possessiveness Tags: Repressed feelings, angst Read it on Ao3!

Summary: A former Imperial Inquisitor struggles with the deepening feelings she has for a mechanic from Ferrix.

Imogen Kol sauntered into the salyard as if she owned it. The cold, misted breeze of Ferrix blew through the elegant wave of her light brunette hair. Scrappers paused to watch her pass by like they always did when she paid the planet a visit. Their fear rippled through the Force to prickle at her senses and she hid a smirk. Perhaps it was the look in her stormy gray eyes – the perpetual scowl that creased her brow. Or the way she carried herself. Nothing else about her stood out, she made sure of it. Her mechanical leg had been hidden by dark layers of clothing and knee high boots. No one had ever seen her touch the blaster at her hip, much less wield the blood-red saber hidden in her tattered cloak. Yet they all knew exactly how dangerous she was. Her pace turned casual just to bask in it a little longer.

Following the distinct sounds of crackling sparks, Imogen found the mechanic right where she expected her to be. Bix crouched beside a suspended engine, face hidden behind a welder’s mask as she tinkered with the massive piece of machinery. Imogen took the opportunity of distraction to silently wander around her workshop. She picked up random spare parts or inspected tools with varying disinterest, taking her time and sneaking glances at the other woman.

“Do you have my parts?” she finally asked.

“Do you have my credits?” Bix replied like she knew Imogen had been there the entire time. She didn’t even bother to look up.

Her smirk may not have been hidden this time, but luckily Bix was too busy to notice. Imogen enjoyed the snarky game they played with each other – the challenge the mechanic always presented her without the trepidation everyone else showed. “You know I do.”

Bix straightened and pulled her mask off. Her dark hair had been tied back in a couple of messy braids, though a few loose strands fell over her tanned features. An apathetic expression met Imogen, which only privately amused the bounty hunter even more. “Then follow me.”

Imogen did as she was told, trailing close behind as Bix led her out of the garage. “You kept me waiting.”

“Moving contraband takes time,” Bix said plainly, as it was a sentence she’s had to repeat several times in the past.

“This is a salvage yard,” Imogen grumbled. “How will they miss a few extra parts?”

Bix threw her an annoyed look. “You don’t want circuits and regulators, you want combat modules modified to be installed in a custom yacht. That kind of order can tip the wrong people off.”

“I also requested a new microvalve.”

“At my suggestion because yours is defective. It takes time to gather a bundle of Imperial-grade parts without getting caught or –”

“Alright, I get it,” Imogen snapped.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get what you pay for,” Bix assured her.

They arrived in a musty storage room where countless large containers overflowing with scrap were placed and stacked seemingly without any rhyme or reason, but Bix knew exactly which bin to approach. She flipped open the lid and nodded at its contents.

“Everything’s in there. Let me know if it’s to your liking.”

Imogen stepped forward to inspect the parts she intended to purchase. Bix hadn’t been lying, she’d get exactly what she paid for. Imperial tech was top of the line and the brand new shiny parts reflected the pompous arrogance of the Empire. If they wouldn’t settle for less than pristine equipment, then why should Imogen? Especially since they’d been pestering her more often. She would make that their problem now.

The sound of an intruder caused Imogen’s head to snap in the direction of the whooshing door. A man with close cropped light brown hair and stubble entered the room, his longing gaze immediately locked on Bix. “Oh, there you are.”

Bix didn’t look half as irritated at the interruption as Imogen. “What do you need, Timm?” she asked. “I’m doing business.”

Timm eyed Imogen, but shrugged off her glare. Fool. “A few of us are gathering at Cavo’s later to watch the pod races. I was wondering if you wanted to join. There’s bets going around.”

Bix nodded. “Sure.”

“Fantastic. See you then,” Timm said with a much too fond grin for Imogen’s liking before leaving the two women.

“He likes you,” Imogen stated flatly.

“I know.”

She studied the mechanic’s face at the sound of her lightened tone. Bix’s features softened every so slightly in the direction of the door. Disgust boiled in Imogen’s chest as her upper lip twitched. “Do you like him?”

Bix’s rich brown eyes met Imogen’s. She studied her sharp features, the scowl creasing her brow, and eventually flicked her gaze down to her lips. The mechanic’s mouth flashed the briefest smirk – so quick and subtle that Imogen would have missed it if she blinked. “I thought Jedi weren’t supposed to have attachments.”

Every muscle in Imogen’s body suddenly coiled with rage. “Careful,” she whispered dangerously.

Bix took that as a challenge and invaded Imogen’s space. “There’s no such thing with you.”

“I haven’t been a Jedi for fifteen years.”

“You still have that lightsaber on your belt.” Bix reached a hand out towards her waist.

Imogen snatched her wrist hard. “It is not a Jedi weapon.”

Bix stared into the steel cold eyes of a ruthless hunter, yet she didn’t so much as flinch. “No, you used it to kill Jedi. But you’re not an Inquisitor anymore either. So, why keep it?”

If she still had any claim to that occupation, this line of questioning would have caused Imogen to cut the mechanic down without a second thought. However, just like the constantly shifting circumstances in the galaxy, Imogen changed as well. She utilized unpredictability to not only survive as long as she has, but to thrive. No matter how bold Bix became, Imogen realized she preferred her alive.

“Your credits are on my ship.” Imogen’s tone became calm and measured as she released Bix from her grasp. “I’ll pay you extra if you help me install the parts.”

“Don’t bother.” Bix glanced down at Imogen’s mouth again. “I’ll do it for free.”

“Free? ” she asked incredulously.

“What, you think I’d let you do it? After your botched job last time? The Huntress is as much mine as it is yours for all the work I’ve put into it. It kills me to see what you do to her while you're away.”

The implication that any of Imogen’s efforts were less than perfect stirred her anger once more. “If you dropped everything and ran to the other side of the galaxy, I’d be able to find you in less than a week.”

“Exactly,” Bix remarked and turned her back on the former Inquisitor. She shot a beckoning look over her shoulder, utterly unbothered by the simmering expression that pierced through her. Imogen followed again. “You’re good at hunting. I’m good at fixing ships. Let’s not get our roles mixed up.”

When she started in the Bounty Hunters’ Guild, Imogen rolled with a gunship just slightly above scrap. The guns jammed. The hull creaked. The tracking modules were inaccurate. She traded it in for scrap the first chance she got. One of her higher end bounties owned a space yacht – modest than most and perfectly unassuming. It took a few years, but with Bix’s help, she managed to customize it to hold bounties, cargo, and both defensive and offensive capabilities.

Colored a silver chrome with red accents and nothing but sleek angles and graceful wings, the ship had been dubbed The Crimson Huntress.

Whenever Bix did work on the ship, she refused to let Imogen do much other than pass her tools. Relinquishing control of her property provoked Imogen’s ire more than anything else, but the mechanic had a way of disarming her. Perhaps it had something to do with the view Imogen got to sit back and appreciate. Watching the deft confidence of Bix’s hands as they switched wires and attached screws admittedly fascinated Imogen. That and the loose strands of hair that Bix gave up on brushing back a while ago. They caressed her cheekbones and just barely brushed the corner of her mouth.

“You know I don’t like it when you watch me work,” Bix complained without looking up. “It’s distracting.”

“You should be grateful. I can be a lot more distracting than this,” Imogen quipped. She reached out from several feet away and flicked her fingers. An invisible force plucked a soldering tool out of Bix’s hand.

Her eyes rolled with her head as she snatched it out of the air. “Do you want me to get this done or not?”

“I’m in no rush,” Imogen answered nonchalantly. “But you do have a very important pod race to get to, don’t you?”

The condescending remark caused Bix to toss her tools down on the floor of the ship with a few metal clangs. A devious smile came across Imogen’s face as she watched the mechanic advance towards her. Their lips crashed into each other in a sudden and fervent cadence. Like always, it sent Imogen’s mind spinning and awakened a craving that utterly consumed her. A craving she felt the first moment she laid eyes on Bix. It tugged at her impulses and desires in a similar way to the Dark Side – only, surrendering herself to the temptation of this woman didn’t turn Imogen into anything other than herself.

Bix abruptly pulled back to hiss “This is the last time, you hear me?”

“I’ve heard you every time you’ve said it,” Imogen mused. Her hand came up to caress Bix’s cheek, her thumb charting a course from one lonely freckle to another. Then her fingers slowly dragged down to the woman’s neck where her hand wrapped around her throat. Imogen gave her a gentle squeeze. “But that one sounded like an order.”

“I’m serious this time,” Bix told her with uneven breath as she reached for Imogen’s belt.

Imogen hummed and pushed her against the wall she had been working on. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you go to Timm after we’re done.”

The weapons belt clattered on the floor next to the discarded tools. “He’s sweet.”

“How boring,” Imogen murmured and turned Bix’s head to expose her neck.

If Imogen had to give up her mechanic to a man, then she’d be sure to leave her mark. With a persistent, possessive hunger, she parted her lips and planted them on the spot where Bix’s pulse drummed the hardest. Imogen pressed herself into her and raked her teeth across the sensitive skin, relishing the quiet whimper that graced her ears. Bix had her own methods, plunging an assertive hand down the front of Imogen’s pants. The two of them writhed in tandem with each other, their shared noises of pleasure filling the cabin of the ship.

Some time later, they found themselves sharing space on the ship’s comfortable cot, totally spent. Imogen silently admired the marks she left on Bix’s tanned skin. The most noticeable formed just above the base of her graceful neck. Imogen never considered herself affectionate, but she couldn’t stop from reaching out to brush the back of her fingers down the slope of Bix’s neck and across her shoulder. It felt odd to indulge in such a candid touch, but Bix released a hum of satisfaction that filled Imogen’s chest with a slightly warm sensation.

But Bix’s gaze seemed determined not to meet Imogen’s. “You didn’t answer me.”

“About what?” Imogen asked.

“The lightsaber.”

Imogen’s eyes drifted to where it sat on the floor still attached to her utility belt. Its sleek handle caught the light, beckoning its wielder to put it to grim use. “It’s an effective weapon.”

“It’s a beacon,” Bix corrected. “For someone who likes to hide, you sure do make a name for yourself.”

“It’s a delicate balance.” Just like everything else, Imogen thought. Light. Dark. Shadows. Exposed. Wrathful. Merciful. Whatever suited her needs. Whatever she felt like, really.

Off in the distance, a bell rang to signal the end of the work day. Bix finally stirred out of the cot to retrieve her few stray articles of clothing. “I need to finish up here.”

“Or I could get a room at the hotel,” Imogen suggested as she propped her head up on her hand. A huge part of her believed Bix when she said this would be the last time. It dawned on Imogen as she watched the mechanic prepare to leave her that she actually hated the concept. And she wasn’t one to surrender anything easily. “I’ll go to Cavo’s with you. I may have credits I could burn on bets, not that I’d lose.”

Bix scoffed humorlessly and shook her head, still refusing to look at the other woman.

Imogen’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“If you wanted me to be yours, you should have asked a long time ago, Imogen.”

Here she thought only force users could sense intentions. Imogen scowled deeply and got to her feet, her movements measured. “What are you talking about?”

“Someone showed interest in me and you now can’t stand it,” Bix accused as she shrugged her vest on. “For the first time, you’re jealous. Instead of admitting to it, you want to act like you own me.”

“So what? You’ve never had a problem with that before.” Imogen grabbed her belt from the floor and strapped it back into place on her hips. Having the saber where it should be fortified her confidence. “I have never forced you into anything.”

“No. You haven’t. I’m admitting that.” Bix closed the distance between them, finally piercing the bounty hunter with an intense stare. Imogen went as still as the statues she used to pass by in the Jedi Temple as a child. “You know what I see? I see someone tripping over the roots of their past while trying to run from them.”

The ship rumbled with Imogen’s fast rising fury, but her voice was eerily calm. “You do not know me.”

Yet again, Bix stood unfazed when faced with one of the most dangerous individuals in the galaxy. “I know you better than anyone alive, I bet. You want more than this? Take it. And be honest about it.”

Imogen got the impression Bix wasn’t only referring to herself. Jedi. Inquisitor. Bounty Hunter. No matter how many titles she claimed, Imogen still felt a void within her. In fact, the emptiness seemed to grow more vast in her chest over the years. As a child, fear governed the void, and it was fear that allowed others to control her. Once fear got too tedious, Imogen replaced it with rage and learned that the more she stoked the fire of fury, the more she could control fear – not just her own. But the void remained. Always remained.

Did she want more? Yes.

She studied the mechanic from Ferrix. Bix’s eyes were as rich and warm as darkly brewed caf. Her smooth-skinned features decorated with a sporadic sprinkling of a few beauty marks. Full lips pursed in the stubborn glare Imogen had grown so familiar with. Something akin to pain pinched Imogen’s gut as she realized she couldn’t recall what her genuine smile looked like.

Yes. Imogen wanted her, too.

With the most gentle touch she was capable of giving anyone or anything – more gentle than even she thought she could be, Imogen reached up and rested her hand against Bix’s cheek. Miraculously, the glare gave way to parted lips, and a delicate breath graced Imogen’s skin. She finally allowed herself to feel the warmth seeping into her palm. That warmth traveled up her arm and into her chest. For a single heartbeat, it felt like the void shrunk the smallest amount.

“You don’t want this,” Imogen whispered softly.

“You’re wrong,” Bix replied, her hand carefully wrapping around Imogen’s wrist like she feared the other woman might disappear.

Imogen loved to take. Whether it was money, ships, bounties, or lives. Taking was second nature to her by now. The Jedi forced her to give everything she had up until the moment she plunged her blade into her own master. She never thought to give willingly. She didn’t know if she had it in her. Bix had a puzzling emotion in her expression that took a few moments for Imogen to decipher, but she soon saw the vulnerability on display for her. That is what giving is – surrender. Weakness. These were utterly foreign notions to Imogen.

Maybe she could try for the sake of her desire. Maybe that would finally reduce the emptiness.

She tilted Bix’s head down enough to place a chaste kiss to her forehead. Imogen held them there to soak in the sensations of such a strange form of affection. She found she liked everything from Bix’s scent to the heat against her lips.

The void hadn’t grown smaller, she noticed. It was filling up.

Imogen took a deep breath and pulled back to rest their foreheads together. “Finish up your work here… and then you will never have to see me again.”

“Imogen,” Bix gasped. The hurt in her voice cut through the former Jedi more than expected.

She needed this very moment to understand it. Imogen couldn’t bring herself to give any more than she could bring herself to take from the mechanic. But she had it in her to be willingly selfless for the very first time in her life. Just this once. Imogen broke all contact with Bix and stepped away. “You’ll thank me later.”