#insp: word

[rarepairnation]

when boromir died for merry and pippin and then pippin saves faramir's life. when pippin says i offer you my service in payment for this debt. when he offers it to denethor but really it's to gondor and to boromir and to the man that denethor once was. when boromir saving pippin's life directly means that pippin saves faramir's life and literally...to boromir, that would've been enough, to have his brother live. for gondor that is enough, to have their captain returned to them.

[mqmotivate]

Be with someone who makes you happy.

[leehallfae]

“darwinism” - halsey

[questsbetweencovers]

There's a fire between us.

[usefulquotes7]

Be with someone who makes you happy.

[wordswithloveee]

[thefouraboveall]

Some of the Choreography in Back on 74.

[imogenkol]

— DATE NIGHT

words: 2.8k rating: mature warnings: slightly toxic dynamic, no respect for waitstaff, possessive behavior, rough alleyway make-out session

notes: got a bug to write these two having a totally normal night out where they act like totally normal people :)

The rustic saloon gathered all manner of lifeforms, from humans to aliens that took a moment for Imogen to identify. She had only seen one Trodatome before on Koboh, but their appearance was not one she could ever mistake for anything else. A live band assaulted her ears with instruments out of tune and the smell of smoke and rust caused her to scrunch up her nose.

To her seasoned approximations, no one seemed to pose a threat to her or the mechanic at her side.

What a shame, she thought, longing for the promise of at least some worthwhile entertainment.

Bix made way to the bar and threw a look over her shoulder. “Want anything?”

“I will have the same as you,” she replied dismissively and signed with her hand to get her meaning across above all the noise as she searched for a half decent spot for them to claim.

A booth in the corner was as far removed as it could possibly be in the small establishment, but two human patrons already occupied the space. They utilized the shadows to let their hands wander in intimate ways unnoticed. Imogen marched towards them unfazed. 

The couple was far too enthralled with each other to notice her draw near, but Imogen announced her presence with an impatient knock on the surface of their table. They both startled at the same time and looked at Imogen with a mixture of annoyance and expectation. 

“Leave,” she commanded with a small wave of her hand, penetrating their minds with the command so they would have no other choice but to obey it. 

They blinked and suddenly straightened up as the awareness in their eyes vanished. In unison, they silently stood and headed for the exit of the saloon. While Imogen could have tolerated their presence by the bar if they had interpreted her order as simply leaving the booth, she certainly did nothing to correct their course.

With a satisfied grin, Imogen settled herself into the booth and waited patiently for her lover to return to her. 

Bix had already started partway in her direction before Imogen sat down and she passed the couple as they left, glancing curiously at their vacant expressions as they strode by with almost robotic purpose. She set down two metal cups on the table and slid in to sit beside the bounty hunter. 

“What did you say to them?”

“I simply told them to leave,” she answered nonchalantly.

“Sure you did,” Bix said sarcastically and took a generous swig of what Imogen assumed to be ale.

Imogen took a tentative sip from her own dented metal cup. An overwhelmingly bitter and stale flavor coated her tongue and made her throat involuntarily close. She nearly choked on the vile ale, but managed to get it down without making a scene. She did not try to hide her disgust, though. A scowl twisted her features as she set the pint down on the tabletop as far away from her as she could reach.

“You could at least pretend to like it,” Bix chastised as she took another sip.

“Why?” Imogen asked in exasperation as she attempted to wash the alcohol out of her mouth with some water from her canteen. “For the life of me, I cannot fathom your tastes.”

The mechanic shrugged. “It’s cold. That’s good enough for me.”

“You should have let me take you somewhere with more prestige. Certainly there would have been a drink far less offensive to one’s palate.”

“Oh, yeah?” Bix challenged as she leveled her gaze at the bounty hunter. “And how would you know the difference? You don’t drink. At least, I’ve never seen you drink.”

“We have gone out before.”

“You went to Cavo’s twice and sat in front of an untouched drink both times.”

“That is because I found the flavor to be akin to the many brown puddles riddled across Rix Road.” Yet Imogen would have preferred that to the swill from this saloon. She missed the expensive clubs she used to visit on a regular basis. “Honestly, darling, you must allow me to spoil you with an establishment worth your while one of these days.”

With a snort, Bix added in a dry tone. “Sure, let’s go to Canto Bight. You can buy me a bottle of the most expensive alcohol there and we’ll drink the whole thing while we bet on the races.”

Imogen caught on to the sarcasm in her tone and smirked. “If that is what you wish, I can make it happen.”

The mechanic shook her head and turned her attention to their surroundings as she took another swig of ale. “You’re being dramatic. This place isn’t that bad.”

Imogen joined her in surveying the other patrons. It was evidently clear that none came to the saloon for anything even remotely pleasant to consume. Most only sought whatever could numb them the fastest. She noted a couple of rugged looking workers slumped over their table and would have likely heard their raspy snores were it not for the music and chatter. Over in another dark corner, a group played cards while tensions grew among those on the losing side.

Then her eye caught a rather pathetic man begging the bartender for another drink. After repeated refusals, the bartender produced a blaster to shoo the pest away. The man threw his hands up and stomped off, only to immediately trip on a stool and collapse in a heap.

Imogen nodded at him. “I am fairly certain I once froze that man over there in carbonite and kept him in my ship’s cargo hold for several weeks. He fetched a handsome price with the Hutts.”

Bix pursed her lips and studied him with scrutiny. “I’d believe it if you hadn’t said that last part. He doesn’t look like he’s worth much.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Imogen said. The man picked himself up on wobbly legs and unceremoniously vomited onto his boots. Her face scrunched up in disgust and she shook her head. “But your assumption does seem warranted. I never accept less than forty-thousand for my services. I doubt I could make even a few hundred credits off a man of his… presentation.”

They watched him sway on his feet as another Theelin bartender accosted him for the mess and dragged him stumbling out of the saloon with a slew of slurred protests.

“Why bounty hunting?”

The seemingly random question drew Imogen’s gaze back towards the mechanic curiously. “Pardon?”

“Why are you a bounty hunter?” Bix repeated.

Imogen squinted at her suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”

She rested her elbow on the table and leaned in, making sure to drop her gaze down to Imogen’s lips for a brief moment as a small, patronizing smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. “It’s this thing called, ‘getting to know you’, where you ask someone personal questions because you’re genuinely interested in understanding them more.”

Imogen hummed in disinterest. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Very funny.”

“You know me already, Bix.”

“I do. Which is why I find it curious that you chose to be a bounty hunter when you’re a talented killer. You like it. You’d make a good assassin.”

Imogen could not tell if Bix was insulting her or complimenting her. Either way, the bounty hunter felt that thrill stir in the base of her spine at her lover’s words just as much as that daring glint in her eye.

“Why are you a mechanic?” she deflected.

Bix did not skip a beat. “Nepotism. Your turn.”

“Do you wish to hear the honest truth?”

A devastatingly gorgeous smile became illuminated by the low light of the lantern beside them and Imogen knew she was at her mercy. “That’s all I ever want to hear from you.”

“Very well,” Imogen accepted with a forcefully curt nod. “The work of an assassin does not have enough sport in it for me. To locate a target and deliver them alive is not only more of a challenge, but it is where my talent lies. I was trained specifically to seek and retrieve. Bounty hunting is more or less what an Inquisitor does.”

“Minus the added torture and murder.”

“I specialize in hunting my prey just as much as interrogation and elimination, yes. I still get my fair share of killing in The Guild, of course. It is a profession that keeps me satisfied on multiple fronts.”

Bix’s eyes glinted knowingly. “You mean, it keeps you from getting bored.”

“Precisely,” Imogen answered with a devious grin. “However, I do find Jedi to be the most effective in that regard. I very much enjoy a challenging duel.”

“I’ll add that to the list of things I know you like to do, then.” She mumbled her next words into her cup as she downed the rest of her drink. “Murder, torture, lightsaber fights.”

“And you enjoy making black market deals and drinking cheap ale I would not feed to a womp rat.” Imogen placed her arm behind Bix and began to caress the backs of her fingers up and down her lover’s side as she stared intently at her. “What a pair we make.”

One of the bartenders — a young female Mirialan with most of her green skin exposed in a tight, revealing outfit — came up to them to retrieve what she must have assumed to be two empty cups. When she noted the practically untouched ale at the end of the table, she asked “Are you finished with this?”

“Yes,” Imogen answered without taking her eyes off of Bix, who had turned her attention to the younger woman.

The bartender continued to intrude. “Could I interest you in something else?”

“No,” Imogen said, dragging the word out in an impatient drawl. She forcefully tore her gaze away from Bix to throw a cold look at the Mirialan. “I get the distinct impression that everything here is as dreadful as that ale.”

Bix rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Ignore her. I’ll take another,” she said, handing over her empty metal cup.

As the slightly disgruntled bartender disappeared from sight, Imogen raised an eyebrow at the mechanic. “‘Ignore her’?”

“It’s the quickest way to get your attention, isn’t it?” Bix asked in anything but an innocent tone.

“Perhaps for you.”

“Come on,” Bix teased, tapping her index finger under Imogen’s chin, “you don’t think she’s cute?”

The bounty hunter grinded her teeth at the implication. “I might have thought so, if you were not here beside me.”

Bix lifted one of her shoulders in a light shrug. “I think she’s cute.”

Imogen narrowed her storming eyes and pulled her lover in closer by her waist. “Do you believe making me jealous is wise?” she mused in a low, smooth tone.

The Mirialan returned with a fresh cup of ale. As she set it on the table, Bix placed a couple of credits down as payment. When the bartender reached for them, Imogen’s hand clamped down on top of hers like the swift strike of a serpent. The young woman gasped and Imogen saw movement out of the corner of her eye — a horned Zabrak bouncer taking a tense step towards them. Imogen smiled dangerously at the girl. She supposed she was more attractive than most, but her looks did little to tempt Imogen beyond mischievous curiosity. She took a moment to lightly prod into the bartender’s mind.

The initial embers of irritation towards Imogen swiftly gave way to a sudden wave of fear. This girl knew she was dangerous, but she didn’t know just how dangerous she could really be. If only she could paint a clearer picture. Imogen felt her own ire melt into amusement as she tightened her grip ever so slightly and caused the girl to flinch. Satisfied, Imogen released her.

“Run along now,” she dismissed.

Bix leveled her gaze. “Are you that starved for attention?”

Imogen pursed her lips thoughtfully at the sight of the bouncer returning to his post. “I may kill her yet. If only to be banned from ever returning to this hovel.”

As she turned her gaze back to her lover, Imogen saw Bix bring the fresh cup of ale to her lips and tilt her head back. In two large, impressively smooth gulps the mechanic downed the entire pint. Imogen felt her mouth gape open slightly at the pronounced line of her jaw and the sight of her throat contracting as she swallowed. It filled Imogen with a familiar warm ache down below. 

Bix set the empty metal cup back down and dragged her thumb from the corner of her mouth across her lower lip to wipe away the excess droplets of ale before they raced down her chin. Imogen found herself suddenly craving the drink she held nothing but disdain for mere moments ago, if only to taste it from her lover’s lips.   

“Come on,” Bix announced and rose to her feet. “I think you need some air.”

Despite how flustered she felt, Imogen managed to summon enough indignation for a retort. “Air? Do I appear as some neglected pet to you?” 

“You don’t want the answer to that, sweetheart,” she replied with a smugness that caused Imogen’s cheeks to flare up with a different kind of heat, but one no less addictive. 

She accepted Bix’s outstretched hand without further protest and allowed herself to be led past the bar and out of the saloon altogether. 

The late evening air felt a little too cool against her already cold skin, but nowhere near the damp chill of Ferrix. Imogen had that to be grateful for and more. 

Bix’s firm hand in hers felt warm in the same way a fire did — a near constant warning not to get too close, yet pulling her in with enthralling influence. Imogen long let go of her instinct to rip her hand away from the flames of her lover’s skin.

Without much warning, Bix swiftly turned on her and grasped the bounty hunter by her coat. As breath pushed out of her lungs from the impact of her back against the side of the building, Imogen found herself feeling rather impressed by her mechanic. Not many could catch her off guard. 

Before she could sing her praise — before she could even really catch her breath — Bix pulled her into a fierce kiss. 

Imogen felt a rush of irritation from the other woman as she took her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down hard enough to make her groan. Imogen also felt the arousal that pulled at Bix’s gut when she desperately molded their bodies together and knew it had been there for most of their time in the bar. 

If this was how Bix chose to punish her, Imogen may just have to misbehave far more often…

“Careful, darling,” Imogen breathlessly mused in between kisses. 

She reached up and gently grabbed Bix by the jaw. With the small amount of control in her grasp, Imogen slowed their cadence to a deeper, more consuming kiss. The velvet heat of her lover’s tongue carried the bitter taste of ale and Imogen found the flavor not just bearable, but unexpectedly pleasant in this context. Her fingers lightly caressed down Bix’s throat. The mechanic’s hands fell and gripped Imogen’s hips tightly in response, pulling her in even closer.

A tremor went through both of their forms at the same time and Imogen had trouble discerning whether or not it came from the cold air around them. Either way, it spurred the desire to mark her love and Imogen trailed her lips down to Bix’s neck with purpose. 

Just as her teeth scraped against her skin, Bix suddenly reached up and pulled Imogen’s head back by her hair. A quiet grunt escaped her, but a smile still tugged at the corners of her mouth. 

“No,” Bix said.

“I want them to know you are mine,” Imogen insisted. 

“I don’t care about them,” the mechanic countered, assertively pulling at Imogen’s waist. “I want you to know you’re mine.” 

The swell of pride Imogen felt in her chest was so profound that her smirk grew into a grin. “I love you,” she said without a moment of hesitation. Those words were getting easier to say, however foreign they still felt coming from her lips.

Bix softened and kissed her again. This time her lips moved in a delicate, chaste stroke that caused a wave of pinpricks to spread all over Imogen’s body. “Are you mine?” she whispered into the bounty hunter’s mouth.

“Yes,” Imogen answered with a nod.

Another soft kiss graced her lips – a wordless reciprocation that Imogen could never doubt. The kiss said I love you, too. I belong to you, too. I want nothing more than that. She cupped her face and held them there in a shameless, selfish moment of pure indulgence. 

Then Bix parted from her. “Let’s get something to eat. You pick this time.”

Imogen sighed at the abrupt loss of contact, but she composed herself. After straightening her coat, she pushed away from the wall and stepped out of the shadows on unsteady legs. Bix failed to hold back a smile. Imogen ignored her smug amusement and simply motioned for the mechanic to follow. “I know just the place.”

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[arkhamsfinalvictim]

“At first, there was a slight stiffness to her posture. It was as if a piece of her still expected to be hurt—a primal sliver that couldn’t understand that it was possible to be touched out of love rather than anger.”

— Mistborn: The Well of Ascension by Brandon Sanderson

[jlmvision]

i’ve been obsessed with this format of poem ever since i first read warsan shire’s ‘backwards,’ a piece where the second stanza is a repetition of the first in reverse. i love the idea that the exact same lines can mean entirely different things in the context of what came before and what comes after, and how this can shift mood and tone.

[dual-domination]

I asked my husband if he wants to go back watching The Blood of Youth (it's his first watch and my rewatch, we stopped at episode 8). Since the only shows he recognizes by name are Word of Honor and The Untamed, he asked:

"Is it the one with the Sword Deity Peacock who lives in the mountain?"

He saw Wei Wuxian calling Jin Zixuan Peacock and now in any show with Cao Yuchen, his character is always Peacock, apparently…

[howifeltabouthim]

I feel as if something were going to happen . . . and something not at all nice.

Iris Murdoch, from A Fairly Honourable Defeat

[leehallfae]

“they pushed their faces toward me. / their poems toward me. / they leapt & thrashed, they were stars, / stars, stars. / i woke up weeping. do you understand? / i thought i could only fall asleep / doing that.”

— chen chen, “spring summer autumn winter,” your emergency contact has experienced an emergency

[kitteqq]

cat cat kitty cat time

fanart inspired by the goldenduo cat fic ever It’s An ‘Adopt a random cat’ Kinda Day by Okshaii

[marlocandeea]

Just by the nature of the limitations you set, the work will be different from what you've done before. It is of little importance whether it's better. The purpose is self-discovery.

The Creative Act: a Way of Being, R. Rubin

[averlym]

May I please request some soft parrlyn please

morning vs night gfs