#salome-c

[nowritingonthewall]

Chrissie, you sweet angel. I just saw your tags on the gifsets. You could bright any day in the most beautiful way. Thank you so much. For the tags and for your constant support❤️ you are amazing

Awwwww Salomé, you’re such a sweetheart, I am very glad that they were able to make you a little happy 🥰

I am so sorry about those hateful comments and I hope you know that they’ve got nothing to do with the amazing person that you are and your wonderful gif sets 💜

Sending you so many hugs 💞

[salome-c]

The Mandalorian Incorrect quotes.

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Omg thank you so much, you are too kind 🥹🥹🥹❤️ I'm so pleased that you enjoyed it!

Stonemilker [Joel x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Fandom: The Last of Us (HBO)

Ship: Joel Miller x you (cishet f reader)

Tags/warnings: Heartache, breakup stuff, Ellie lives and Joel is lying to her, sad sex, you know this is ending sex, Couple fighting, idk what this is folks, it's a sad story with a hopeful ending.

Summary: When Joel returns to Jackson with Ellie, something has changed. Can your relationship survive it? Takes place after episode 9 of season 1.

Words: 3,967

A/N: The title Stonemilker is the title of the first track of Björk's Vulnicura (2015), an album solely about the end of a relationship. Cheers to @rambling-in-purple for reading it before posting <3!

Joel returned a changed man. A younger man. A less hurting man.

Ellie was with him, of course, hugging you tightly in the kitchen of the small house you had been given. You had been setting the dinner table for one when she had burst in and called your name, Joel striding in behind her. You dropped the plate, and the porcelain pieces spread around your feet.

Little did you know that your life was about to shatter in the same way.

Joel gave you a warm hug, nothing more. You wanted to hear everything about their journey, but they were both tired and hungry, so you gave them time to shower and change into clean clothes while you adapted dinner to feed three.

Later that night, when you went to bed with Joel, you saw the hideous wound on the right side of his stomach. He told you what had happened since he and Ellie left Jackson.

He told you everything: the abandoned college, the stab wound, and how close he was to dying. Ellie saving him. The resort. All the dead bodies. The hospital.

His decision. Hallways of dead people left behind. His lie to Ellie.

"Joel..."

He looked at you with shrouded eyes. Where there used to be an iron curtain, there was now a thin veil that showed depths of horrors, but also hope. It scared you more than the hard metallic gaze that you were used to.

You knew why he did it. You understood him. You would probably have done the same.

"You have to tell her."

"One day, I will."

"Sooner rather than later. She deserves to know the truth."

There it was, the unyielding steel in his eyes. He never appreciated being told the obvious. But when Ellie did that, slapped him in the face with inconvenient truths and poignant teases, he grimaced to keep from smiling. When you did it, you received a glare.

You had always thought that that glare was yours because Joel didn't have any other way of expressing his reluctant amusement. And it was, but there was a smile-hiding grimace as well, just not for you.

Something had changed. You didn't realize just how much until a few weeks later, when you were out with the hunting party, and a cougar popped up so suddenly that not even the horses had smelled it. It was a young animal, probably a male looking for a territory of its own, and you were the closest to it. Your horse reared, you fell off, hit your elbow on a rock that just had to be precisely there. As if by some miracle, your head missed it, though. The wind got knocked out of you while your brain was screaming frantically at you to get up and get your gun, but before you could move, a shot rang out over the plain, and the horses neighed in fear.

Deion was by your side a moment later, brows knitted together in worry.

"You okay?"

Breath returning, you began to feel the impact of your fall. Left elbow was smarting, your ass was probably bruised, and your heart was beating a mile a minute from the scare.

"I'm fine," you managed to wheeze. He helped you up, carefully pulling you on your feet. He held your hand as he inspected your face for discomfort. You let him. It's comforting, that big, warm hand holding yours.

"You sure?" He wanted to be certain before he let you go. You nodded and forced a smile.

"I'll have a bruise, but I'm good." You've had worse, so much worse.

The warmth of Deion's hand lingers on your skin long after he releases your hand. As you get on the horse and ride back to Jackson, you find yourself thinking about how Joel never showed such concern for your well-being. And he doesn't do it now, either, when you return sooner than expected, moving like you're in pain - which you are.

"You need to be more careful," he tells you gruffly. You know it's his thing, he doesn't do softness, and yet... he does to Ellie. He speaks kindly to her, laughs with her, talks to her about things beyond mere survival. Tells her about his daughter. That's a new one, he never even mentioned his daughter to you.

It's heartwarming to see him thawed. The glimpses of who he used to be melt together with who he is now. You always suspected he was a great kind of guy before the world went to shit and he was forced to become a version of himself that he himself hated. And it hurts you more than the bruising that he cannot be this new person with you, only with Ellie. She deserves the best Joel, you know that, but don't you? After all you've been through with him?

You argue with him later that night. That's also new. While you may have disagreed with him occasionally before, you have never fought about it. Maybe it's the comfort of Jackson, the fact that a disagreement no longer means the risk of death. Maybe you have just had your fill.

"You could at least say something that doesn't make it sound like it's my fault!" you yell, unconcerned with your voice carrying over to the next room where Ellie is asleep. "You could ask me if I'm okay!"

"I can see that you're okay," Joel replies irritably. "I've seen you take worse hits."

"I am not okay, Joel!" The words are spat into the half-lit bedroom and the silence that follows is heavy from the impact. Joel crosses his arms in front of his chest and looks at you with unreadable eyes. It's not his usual glare, the one he gives you no matter the reason, because it's all he's capable of. It's just... closed. Like he has nothing more to give you.

You sleep in separate rooms that night. Ellie is unusually demure in the morning, looking from you to Joel and back to you, clearly bothered by your fight the night before. You make a mental note to talk to her after breakfast but before you can suggest an activity, Joel asks her if she wants to go out shooting.

Okay, let Joel deal with Ellie.

You go to your chores, which consist of animal care for most of the day. Deion joins you. He wants to know how you're feeling.

How are you feeling? Bruised and annoyed. Sad and confused. Touched and frustrated. Abandoned. Lonely.

"I'm good," you assure him with a light smile. "A little sore, but I've had worse."

All day he sees to it that you rest. He takes care of the tasks that will aggravate the aches of your beaten-up body. He reminds you to take a break when it's nearing lunch time.

He cares so clearly. Is this what it's like, to be with someone who cares?

Ellie is bubbly that night. She and Joel have had fun, she tells you, and you're happy for her. Ellie is a child who was never allowed to be one. She deserves carefree days. She deserves a father figure, a dad. A mom, too, but you have no idea how to be that. Especially when things are so askew with Joel. Whatever things are, were, should be. You and Joel used to be about teamwork, survival, partnership. But life in Jackson is different. What you two had, were, is not needed here. What else can you be?

Joel watches you take your clothes off when you get ready for bed. You turn your back to him, maybe out of misguided, sudden shyness, maybe to show him the bruise that has painted half your back. It was dark red yesterday, now it's turning purple.

His feet are heavy on the floorboards when he walks up to you. His rough fingers are surprisingly soft when tracing the outlines of the bruise. You close your eyes, lean into his touch, sigh softly when he kisses you neck. You lie down on the bed and let Joel take you. He's gentle, more so than usual, but every thrust pushes you against the bumpy mattress, hurting you. Neither one of you speak but when Joel has finished, he cradles your face in his hands and kisses your forehead so softly that it's barely a kiss at all. You turn your back to him when you go to sleep. Your muscles are sore from the coupling, and you quietly love that tenderness like one would a bittersweet heartache. The bruise on your lower back throbs like a young heart in love, and when you turn onto your side, away from Joel, you wish he would kiss the miscolored blossoms.

But he doesn't. He simply turns away from you, just as you turned away from him. With a canyon between your warm, spent bodies, you both go to sleep.

Ellie accompanies you to your chores the next day. After a quiet hour of cleaning the stable, she eventually asks you if you're mad at her.

"No, Ellie, why would you think that?" you ask, immediately regretting your poor choice of words. She shrugs, leaning against a stall door, both hands gripping the handle of the pitchfork, the prongs scraping loudly against the floor.

"You've been weird since we got back. You and Joel have been fighting."

"That has nothing to do with you," you lie, hopefully convincingly. Ellie looks up at you, a hard glint in her eyes.

"I'm not stupid. You never fought before, not for as long as I've known you."

You stop your sweeping but don't know what to say.

"You barely talk to each other," she insists.

"It's complicated," you tell her feebly. "But it has nothing to do with you, Ellie, I promise."

"Then what is it?"

You shake your head. "I'm not going to talk about our relationship with you, Ellie. It's not your problem."

"It is my problem if my - " she stops herself, the word parents hanging in the air for a second, before she continues: " - if you two are going to, I don't know, get a divorce or some shit."

An amused scoff escapes you before you can stop yourself. "We're not married, Ellie."

"I know. But you're, like, together, right?"

"I don't know what we are," you blurt out, averting your eyes so you don't have to see her reaction at your confession. You hear the scraping of her shoe at the floor.

"Did you count on me not being here anymore?"

Her voice is small and sounds so different from its normal curious and teasing tone. A clump forms in your throat.

"Ellie..."

"I'm in the way."

You let go of the broom and focus instead on Ellie, standing in front of her and taking the pitchfork from her so that you can grasp her hands.

"You're not in the way," you tell her firmly. Ellie looks away, and you shake your head to stress your words. "Ellie, look at me."

She meets your steady gaze, and you see how conflicted she is. Poor girl. She is a child. You can barely remember what it was like to be that age and besides, it was another world ago, but you do remember that it was difficult and confusing for so many reasons.

"You are not in the way," you emphasize softly. "But this situation is new, for all of us. This place. This dynamic. We're not just surviving anymore, Ellie, we have a chance to live. And I... I've never had that chance with Joel before. So I'm struggling a little right now. But it has nothing to do with you, okay? You just... be you. You're so good for him, Ellie, you have saved him in more ways than one."

She purses her lips, and you see her throat muscles work as she swallows.

"Okay," she finally nods, quietly. You press a smile, try to look like this problem was resolved.

"Okay." You give her a quick hug before going back to your work. Ellie seems relieved but you can't stop thinking about how you pinned it all on your own back. You are struggling, you are having a hard time of this new way of life. As if Joel has nothing to do with it. As if his broad, once so safe, and reassuring back isn't now turned to you in cool detachment.

You try to bring the topic to him later that night, tell him that Ellie is noticing and worrying. It ends in a fight and this time it's Joel who sleeps on the uncomfortable couch. You lie awake, wondering what went wrong. Is it really you who changed? Are you being a selfish bitch, jealous of a 14-year-old girl? Do you really want life to go on as it did before, in the Boston QZ, fighting for your life with Joel by your side?

Why is settling down so hard?

Nothing changes in the coming weeks. Talking to Joel is like milking a stone. Every now and then the two of you fight, as quietly as you can when Ellie has gone to bed. You still think he should tell her. He refuses to, and you can see the fear in his eyes. Ellie will be furious with him; you both know it. The longer he keeps her in the dark, the worse it's going to be. You find yourself wishing that you'll be far away when the day comes.

One early spring day you ride out with Deion to check on the traps. You've spent most of your days with him these past few weeks. He appreciates you, sees you, wants to hear your opinion. He takes you to the movies. He asks you about your past. He shows interest where Joel barely even wants you at night anymore.

The snow has started to melt in the sunshine, and you find a sun-kissed clearing where the ground is yellow with glacier lilies. The air is warm, and you can smell the changing of the season. You dismount and crouch among the delicate yellow flowers, hover your hands over them, smile in childlike delight when you see bees buzzing from flower to flower. You can't remember the last time you saw bees.

In that clearing, you ask Deion to kiss you, and he does, almost immediately. Not until the kiss is over does he express regret.

"You're with Joel."

"No, I'm not."

He smiles, and kisses you again, and you remember those first pre-teen infatuations: the warmth, the excitement, the heart-stopping angst about whether or not the subject of your passions felt the same. You remember all that but only feel it radiate from Deion. The feelings are unrequited.

That night you collect your few belongings into your backpack and leave the house. You hug Ellie and ask her to forgive you. You say nothing to Joel, and he says nothing to you.

You do not go to Deion, but instead to the boarding house where new arrivals are placed while awaiting homes of their own. Deion is kind, and he showed you what it would be like to be with a person who genuinely cares for you, but you don't want to rebuild your shattered life around a man.

A week later you mount a horse and leave Jackson. You have no plan, no light to look for, but you can finally breathe freely. Heading west, you ride at a slow pace all day, enjoying yourself more than maybe is appropriate. Your saddle-sore backside in the evening doesn't put a damper on your joy when you sit by your small fire with a cup of herbal tea. This is the start of something new, maybe disastrous, but definitely different.

The dark woods around you don't scare you, neither does being alone. You realize now just how alone - lonely - you've been these past couple of months, smack in the middle of the warm and well-organized community that Jackson is. Its friendly inhabitants weren't enough: you only wanted kindness from one single person. To be alone out here, by choice, feels a lot better than the time spent in Jackson.

When you prepare to leave the campsite the next morning, a horse emerges between the trees. Instinctively, you reach for your gun before your brain has processed the face of the rider.

It's Joel. Your mouth falls open and your legs feel weak.

"What are you doing here?" you manage when he dismounts. His hunched shoulders tell you clearly that he's uncomfortable and also stalling as he, very meticulously, ties the reins to a nearby tree. You wait impatiently for him to acknowledge you. When he finally does, his nut-brown eyes are clear in the first rays of the sun.

"I'm here to ask you if you would consider returning."

You have to bite your tongue in order not to laugh out loud. Your hard stare tells him everything, and he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

"I'm going to tell Ellie about what happened at the hospital."

You raise an eyebrow. "Why are you here telling me that?"

"Because when I do, she's going to hate me, and I can't stand losing both of you."

"It's a little too late for that, Joel."

He nods, wets his lips. Looks away and draws a wet breath. Rests his hands on his hips, purses his lips. You realize he's fighting against unwanted yet inevitable tears.

Joel crying. That's a new one.

Moments pass, minutes, maybe hours, days, you have no idea, but you keep staring at Joel as he stubbornly looks to the forest, as if there was an answer or saving grace to be had between the trees. You are relentless in the midst of the rising sun, the singing birds, the soft shush of the wind through the budding treetops. He has to make the first move, show something, say something. Offer an explanation to why he stopped listening. Where did the apathy in his eyes come from? Why did he suddenly decide to show no concern for you?

He brings his hand to his eyes, rubs them quickly with forefinger and thumb. He then turns back to you.

"Ellie misses you."

You stand your ground, implacable as you wait for him to continue. Finally, he confesses:

"I miss you. The minute you left I started missing you."

"Then why did you let me leave?" you ask flatly.

"I wasn't going to stop you if that's what you wanted."

You refuse to engage, even though you want to scream at him: Do you think I wanted to leave?

"Was it Deion?"

"What?" Your eyebrows meet in a surprised frown. "What about Deion?"

"You spent so much time with him. Did you... was there anything between you?"

Unable to play it cool anymore, you take a step closer.

"How fucking dare you? You have no right!" Your horse and Joel's shift their weight, ears twitching nervously.

He's a little taken back with your raised voice, but he doesn't match it.

"Sorry," he mutters instead, and now it's your turn to drop your jaw. For a moment, both of you just stand there, looking at each other, trying to find some common ground to share so that things can be resolved.

It's Joel who finally finds that little patch of soil to sow the seeds of reconciliation.

"You remember how I tried to make Tommy take Ellie to the Fireflies?" he asks, and you nod mutely. Of course you remember. The tension in the house had been so thick you could have cut it with a knife.

"But I took her. And everything that happened after that... happened. I have to live with the consequences. I just had to keep her."

He shakes his head, something desperate filling his features. "If I get to keep her, I can't keep you."

"What do you mean?" you ask quietly, not following. The long look he gives you is anguished, but he stays quiet, as if he has said too much. Your brain is working at full capacity until it has connected the dots.

"Is this some kind of 'can't have too much good shit in my life' bullshit?" you ask hoarsely, almost afraid of the answer. "Because that is just... Joel, you are an idiot."

You're shaking by now, and Joel bristles a little.

"Look, Ellie has nobody else. She's stuck with me, for better or for worse. She's a kid. But you are not. You can have someone better."

"What if I don't want anyone better, what if I happen to love a complete fucking idiot who doesn't deserve me but is stuck with me because I chose it myself!?" you scream, tears filling your eyes and escaping down your cheeks. Joel winces, as if you just slapped him, but when he sees your tears, he closes the gap between the two of you with a few long strides. The next thing you know, you're crushed against his broad chest, smelling his sweat and slightly woodsy scent with leather and horse and melting snow. He holds you so tightly it's almost constricting your breathing, but you don't fight back. You've fought back for long enough.

"Darlin'," he murmurs throatily. "Darlin'. You love me?"

"I did," you sob. "But I don't know if I still do."

He's quiet, his hand moving in slow, comforting caresses over your back. Something is broken in you and the splinters are pressing against your internal organs, making breathing near impossible. Your face against Joel's chest, you think you can sense something break in him as well.

"You're right," he finally whispers. "I am an idiot and an asshole."

Your only response is more tears because now he gets it, now the milk is flowing from that goddamn stone, and it just might be too late. You don't know if you can trust him to handle your broken pieces right, or if there is a second chance for him in you.

There is no telling how long you stand like that, entwined in a sad, desperate embrace. The sun's rays start to feel warm even when you're cold inside. When your tears finally dry up, you shift in Joel's arms, and he releases you. You can't look at him, can't let him see you like this, but he gently places his finger under your chin, and raises your face to his.

"Am I too late?" he asks. His eyes are red and there are wet trails on his cheeks. You swallow hard, try to navigate between your desires and needs.

"What would change?" you finally ask. He places his warm, slightly sweaty palm against your cheek and brushes his thumb just under your eye, catching a lingering tear.

"I would love you."

He has never said that word to you before, and you want to ask for a detailed description of what it entails. How will he love you? Will he listen, help, support, share?

If Ellie decides to hate him, will he hate you in return? Will Ellie?

On the other side is a vast wilderness of no coordinates, the unknown with all its dangers. What are your chances of survival, of finding decent people? Jackson is full of decent people, and now also Joel and Ellie. Joel, who hurt you. Ellie, who is torn between the two of you.

He waits for your answer, and you find that you don't have a definite one to give him. But you know what direction to take.

"We'll talk about it on the ride back."

It that direction is a way forward or a way back, you don't know. You just feel that it would be wrong not to try.

[saradika]

— if you send for me, you know I'll come

[series masterlist]

din djarin x f!reader

rated E - 4.5k

Tags: protective!neighbor!din, canon-typical violence, Nevarro is attacked, pirate invasion, death of pirates, angst, brief hostage situation, established relationship, outercourse, multiple orgasms, PiV

A/N: mini-sequel to only if for a night (but also can be read as a one-shot!) Spoilers for 03.05 - absolutely cheering over “I decided to take you up on your offer for a tract of land” and wanted to explore that

The blasts rain down. Turning parts of your beloved city into crumbling stone and smoking ash. A cry of distress sent to the New Republic. A whisper throughout the crowd saying that help isn't coming. That this time, Nevarro is on it's own.

But you're sure of one thing. Hang onto that hope like a lifeline, as you send out a small message of you own.

Knowing that Din Djarin will come for you.

That he will find a way.

The Corsair hangs heavy, overhead.

Appearing suddenly, a dark splash against the sunny, blue skies. A weight in your limbs, an uneasiness creeping up your spine as the hail comes in.

Stuck frozen in place, as you watch the face of the Pirate King - Gorian Shard - appear on the holo. Filling the room with his dripping visage.

Ushered quickly off to the side, as the two engineers make a hasty exit - though you don't remember moving. Listening to the sharp back-and-forth.

“Believe your ears then, and don't mistake my hospitality for weakness."

“The Spinward patrol passes through here regularly."

Karga holds his ground against the threats that fire down. Shard coming back for his revenge, for the pirates killed in the streets of Nevarro all those weeks before.

A day you remember well. The day he had come back into your life.

And for a second you feel safe - until you see that confident veneer chip. That hesitance in Karga's voice, in his words, as Shard calls his bluff.

The blasts that start to rain down, after.

That uneasiness morphing into pure dread. A matching fear that flashes in both your eyes, as the call ends, and the droid enters the room.

"High Magistrate, the escape pod is ready." It chirps. Voice friendly, in spite of the dire situation, "I will lead you to the launch site."

"I won't abandon my city," Karga shakes his head, turning your way, "You take it. Get to safety."

And in spite of your complaints before - those told in confidence to Din, about how your boss was too much, too extravagant, too Karga - you can't bear it. Not when you see how he puts the people first, instead of running.

You shake your own head. Words coming shakily, but you mean every one, "I'm with you. What can I do?"

"We have to get the people to safety. Send out a directive immediately." He barks out, and you're nodding. The command giving you something to do - unsticking your feet.

Raising the alarm.

Following him into the streets.

———

Your fingers key in the codes for the message - the cry for help. The recording Karga quickly made in his office after the evacuation had begin - his one shot before the building began to shake with the force of the blasts.

A message for Captain Teva, of the New Republic.

You had wanted to protest. Had tried to - arguing that there were others that could help.

"He's one man. He might not even come." Karga had snapped back. His patience thin - each second that passed meant another part of the city crumbled, "We'll have a better shot at surviving this if we reach out to someone with numbers."

You flinched at his tone, at the insinuation. The words from the message replaying in your head.

"The situation is dire."

"I'm afraid that our planet will fall."

His voice softened when he saw your expression, "We don't have time for another message. Send it."

Part of you had wanted to argue.

That Din would come, for you. If he knew you were in danger.

He'd save all of you.

He'd find a way.

Instead, you bit the words back. Focusing on the comm code that Karga had rattled off. The crushing bands still wrapped tightly around your chest as the message is sent, firing off with a sharp click.

Sending your own after, with a small wish - breathed out into the stars. These numbers long-since memorized, fingers flying over the keys. The briefest of messages, but you hope he'll understand.

Din. It’s the Pirates. If you get this, we could really use your help.

Please.

There's the boom of another blast, the floor rattling beneath your feet.

And then, you're running.

Retreating to the lava flats, with the rest of the city.

———

Dirt clings to your tunic. Clay dusting your side, your shoulder - from when you shielded a neighbor from a blast, tugging them down the alley.

No time to do anything more than get out. Following the waves out people out of the city limits. Watching as months and years of growth and progress and green crumble. Sending you into the wastes, once more.

Feet aching by the time you stop - shivering now, in the evening chill. The dark sky above illuminated with the golden and red flickering of a fire, tearing through the western edge of town. Sending up billowing smoke, blocking out the stars.

A grief that surrounds you, in the dark. A selfish ache in the way that you mourn for you home. The happiness you had built. Promising to look after his, after that night you spent together.

Having to face that you weren't able to. That there might be nothing left.

The thought follows you, seeping into your bones. Weighing you down, as you huddle in small groups. Fires dotting the lava flats, flickering in the wind. Shifting against the ground as you try to get comfortable - finding it near impossible.

Drifting off, when your eyes get too heavy to stay open. Even with the ridges of rock digging into your side, an arm tucked under your head.

You call to him in your sleep. Drifting off to the memories, on repeat for comfort. Replaying the messages you've exchanged, since he left.

Hoping you'll get the chance to see him. Even if it's just one last time.

Even if it's just in your dreams.

———

The Corsair lingers. Pirates deployed in waves, pillaging and looting. Those who stayed inside, those who refused to leave, were at their mercy. Turned into captives or pushed around. Forced to smile and serve food and drink as a blaster points at their guts.

Not daring to refuse.

There's not enough weapons left among you to fight back. Not thinking to arm yourself - all thought focused on getting out. Leaving you vulnerable - stranded on the dark field of igneous rock.

There's whispers of surrender. Looks thrown Karga's way, as he stands firm.

Still a beacon, in spite of the hardship.

But you stay firm, as well. You know hope will come.

You believe in him.

The hours pass and the pit in your stomach grows. A man breaks away, a hurried plan to sneak into the town. To try to gather those inside, to see if he can grab weapons.

He doesn't come back.

Instead of gunfire there's shouting now. Harsh laughter that filters through the whipping wind. Trails of smoke still rising up to the sky, where the ship still hangs - waiting.

Waiting for Karga's hail of surrender.

Waiting for the city to fall.

———

A cry breaks through the stilted silence. Everyone muted with worry - no longer speculating.

The pointing of fingers, as something streaks against the sky.

A glint of silver, shining like Beskar.

You know that ship. Have seen it, in the space between your house and his.

A leaping in your heart and a wetness on your cheeks that you don't even realize - as your shouts are among the first to rise.

Cheering, for the help that has come.

Watching as a larger ship joins his - as it opens, spilling figures with jetpacks into the air.

Karga smiles, as he meets your eyes. Relief in them, as he raises his comm.

"Thanks for your help, Mando." There's fondness in his tone.

You can't stop grinning, as the voice you know so well crackles back, "Heard you might need a hand."

"Be careful, my friend." He smiles, before growing serious, "They've got you outnumbered ten to one."

There's an edge to Din's voice then, the words low and smooth, “I like those odds."

Karga chuckles, reminiscing, "I bet you do."

There's a beat of silence, and then a final request.

“Karga. Keep her safe, for me."

His eyes find yours. Knowing who Din means - your heart flipping at the words.

A knowing smile, as he answers.

"You know I will."

The comm clicks off, but the heat that rises in your chest and face lingers. Hiding the smile as your face turns towards the sun.

Watching with the others as the two ships dart around in the sky. The sounds of blasters layering over each other from within the city.

The bright flash of red and gold as a hit is landed on the Corsair, the handful of snubfighters in the sky quickly dwindling.

Whispers of hope race through the groups of people around you. Steps as they start to head towards the city, as the pirates are picked off.

A groan, as the turrets above shift. A spray landing a kilometer away, but each round moving closer. Spending up dirt and rock and the dread is flooding though you again as it quickly approaches.

“They’re targeting us!” A cry goes up, as that bit of hope wavers.

The groups scattering, splitting apart as they back up.

Your eyes stay on the sky. Watching as the two smaller ships team up - and fire.

The blaze of fire and smoke as the Corsair tilts, and then plummets. An achingly slow descent, as the front tips down, colliding loudly with the rocky ground. Crumpling into broken metal, and the explosion that fills the sky is so bright that it hurts your eyes.

The Pirate King, defeated.

The cries around you change. Fear turning swiftly into joy. Voices blending and mixing until it’s just a drawn out, repeated chant.

“It's gonna be okay!”

———

You’re among the first to breach the far border of the city. The remaining pirates gathered in surrender, weapons thrown upon the ground.

The Mandalorians chasing them from the bowels of the city, intent on seeing things through.

But not everyone among the remaining decide to go so easily. Something moves at the corner of your vision, as you pass by the crumbling house.

Something tall and broad - turning just in time to see the mottled yellow skin of the Quarren as he lunges your way.

Fingers twist around you, hard and cold. Your breath in your throat as the barrel presses against your chin - using you like a human shield.

Another pair, their skin in matching shades of crimson, grab the older woman and the young man next to you. Mimicking their leader, guns clicking in their hands.

A forced negotiation.

Ice creeps into your veins - fearing that this is the end, when you were so close to salvation. Eyes wide as you look towards Din.

How he turns at the gasp that skitters through the crowd. The briefest second - when he sees you.

The twitch of his hand, as he stalks forward. A blaster raised so quickly you can barely blink before something hot and bright is shooting past your cheek.

Downing the pirate that’s holding you captive with a single shot.

Whistling birds from the Mandalorian at his side taking out the other two in an instant.

You’re in his arms a moment later. The beskar cool against your cheek as he pulls you to him. Crushing you against his chest, before he’s pulling back.

The swivel of his helmet as he looks - paying an abandoned storefront just off to the side. Hauling you with him as the Mandalorians round up the rest of the Pirates, as they finally surrender.

You can feel the few eyes that follow you - the weight of their gaze. But in this moment, you can’t bring yourself to care.

He’s ripping the gloves off - bare hands coming to cup your face the moment you’re inside. As if unable to help touching you himself, not wanting any layers as he tilts your face up to his so he can see you.

A slow drift of his helmet as he checks you over.

“Are you hurt?” Din rasps, “Are you alright, cyar’ika?”

The meaning of that word is still unknown, but there’s such an affection in the way he says it. Carefully, earnestly, and it has you nodding.

“I’m fine.” You croak, your hand coming to rest on his. Pressing it against your cheek, leaning into it.

Some of the stiffness in his posture wanes. Your back pressing against the wall as he crowds you, as relief crashes through him.

Staring up at him - feeling the rush of emotion. Making your words soft, no more than a whisper.

“You came.”

His own voice rough, “Of course I did. I always will.”

You smile then, at that.

Sweet and soft, just for him.

“I knew you would. I just knew.”

At your words - the adoring look you give him - his hand is raising. Traveling to his helmet. Lifting the edge, where you can just see the briefest glimpse of tan skin, the scruff of his beard.

Before your eyes are snapping shut, and his lips are pressing to yours.

And oh, how you remember them.

Your fingers curling in his cowl as you cling to him. The moan sliding from your throat as he leans into you, his other hand gripping almost painfully at your waist.

Desperate.

That’s how you feel. Like you can’t get enough, as you curve yourself against his chest. Lips parting when his tongue brushes against the seam, letting him deepen it.

Leaving you panting and breathless when he finally pulls back. Fingers searching for more, tangling in the belt around his waist as his hips rock against yours.

“You’re safe now.”

You hum in distracted agreement, something much more welcome than panic thrumming in your veins.

He’s there with you, hand roaming - fingers dipping under the hem of your tunic. Bunching it up until he can brush the bare skin at your waist. A thigh nudging between yours, your own face reflected back in the shining visor.

Eyes half-lidden, with kiss-swollen lips.

“Din.” You whine, and he groans.

Hips rolling slowly against yours, just as the sound of his name echos.

Lower, this time. Modulated, like his.

The fingers slide from your shirt, but he stays close - twisting so he’s half-blocking you from sight.

From the sight of the Mandalorian that fills the doorway - tall and broad in his painted, blue armor. A cock of his head, as his arms cross over a thick chest.

“You did not tell us you took a riduur during your stay,” Amusement tinging his words, even through the helmet, “No wonder you were in such a rush to return.”

Another word to figure out - as Din’s posture stiffens, shifting closer to you. His hands on the wall, keeping you tucked carefully between them.

“What do you want?” He asks, not bothering to hide his own annoyance.

“Your friend, the Grand Magistrate, is requesting our presence.” There’s the low rumble of a laugh, “Or should I tell him you’re too busy?”

“We’ll be right there, Vizsla.”

It’s a dismissal, and the other Mandalorian takes it. Leaving the two of alone for a moment to make some swift adjustments.

The heat lingering in your cheeks, at getting caught. Grateful that the visitor wasn’t a few minutes later - certain that sight would have been a lot more than he bargained for.

A gloved hand is wrapped in yours, as you head back into the light.

Where Karga is waiting, ready to thank them. A generous gift offered - the land from the western lava flats to Bulloch Canyon, ceded to the Mandalorians.

His smile bright, as he tells them, “You may no longer have a home planet, but you do now have a home.”

———

That edge is tempered, now that Din knows you’re alright. But there’s a part that still lingers as he’s surrounded by his kin, his words clipped and short.

Stuck helping with negotiations - getting the ships moved to the landing pads, instead of hastily exited.

Unhappily separated, as you’re pulled into your own work. The city littered with debris and broken buildings. Bodies and smoldering fires.

Better to stay outside for one more night - to begin together, at dawn.

The best warriors sent in just to grab supplies. Coming back with materials to set up small camps, tents.

You work on your own, cozy enough for two. Not needing much more space, after hearing that Grogu would be staying safe with the other foundlings. Finding a spot to the edge of the camp of the Mandalorians, hoping Din will be able to find you.

Exhaustion tugging at you as you curl in the bedding, determined to wait up for him. That dull thrumming persisting between your thighs, even now.

Anticipating his return.

But the soft glow that the fire casts on the canvas starts to tug you under. Hazy with sleep when his voice finally comes, the sky an inky indigo above.

The soft call of your name.

A body lowering next to yours. Curling behind you, and you’re so relieved and content that you don’t mind the cold bite of the beskar against the thin fabric of your top.

A stiffness lingers in the way he holds you. As you’re unable to help arching back, his breath crackling harshly through the vocoder as your ass presses against him.

An arm, wrapping around you - his hand splaying across your stomach when you do it again. The thrust of his hips as he meets you this time, grinding himself against you.

“I need you.”

His words - low and rough - make you clench.

Rocking against him with more intent, as his bare hands begin to roam, like before. Rucking up your shirt so he can touch bare skin.

“I thought I would be too late.”

He can say it now, when it’s dark.

When it’s just the two of you.

Those worries finally breaking through the armor, spilling out from the cracks. Extracted, by the feeling of your body against his.

Letting himself breath for the first time in hours. An urge to feel every inch of you, to make sure you are truly okay. Wanting to make you forget, with the only way he knows how.

“You have me.” You tell him, catching his hand - dragging it up to your mouth. Pressing a kiss against the calloused knuckles, fingers warm in yours, “I believed in you.”

It feels silly now, that you ever doubted. Even for the brief second.

His groan is low, the edge of the helmet biting into your shoulder. Hand pulling free so he can grasp at the edge of your leggings - your hips rising so he can push them down.

Leaving them twisted around your thighs as his hand follows, dipping between them. Cupping you, where you’re molten. Aching, from that moment when he kissed you - replaying it over and over in the tent while you waited.

The tips of his fingers finding where you’re slick - rubbing tight circles, like he did in the springs. Each pass sends a little jolt down your spine, a flicker of pleasure in your brain.

Your breath short and sharp as you flex into his touch - a low whine when he pulls away to free himself. Feeling the heavy, velvety curve as it nudges against your ass. Damp fingers smearing your slick across a thigh as he lifts it.

Fitting his length between them, pressing it snug against your wet pussy. Petting at your clit again, as he thrusts.

Fingers focused - no teasing tonight. Gliding over the senstive bud as he grinds against you, fucking your thighs with his swollen cock. The ridge pressing against your folds as his hips roll, adding to your mounting pleasure.

Each pass brings you higher.

Each slide of his hips coming easier, as your arousal slicks up his cock. Dragging against you - making you want to just tilt your hips, so during the next pass, he’ll nudge inside.

Instead, your fingers drift beneath your shirt. Teasing your breast as the other hand makes a fist around the tip of his cock, a gentle pressure when his hips press flush against yours.

His groan joins yours, his pace stuttering.

That low voice coming out ragged, as your thighs tighten around him, “Come on my fingers, and you can have it.”

It has you clenching around nothing, a jerk of your hips into his touch.

“Please,” you moan, the familiar heat pooling in your belly. Winding with each swipe, as he presses just a little bit harder.

“Know you can,” He breathes, “Know you’re close.”

And you are - muscles tight as your focus narrows down to just his fingers. The heavy drag of his cock, so wet as it drags across sensitive skin.

The arm he has tucked under his head shoves beneath you, pressing between your breasts as he holds you tightly against him.

His breath ragged, loud through his helmet - only adding to the sensations that flood you. You own breath trapped in your chest, as everything strings tight.

Each gasping “oh” sending you higher. So close that your eyes screw shut - and when his cock catches against your entrance again, your fingers move.

A hitch of your hips as you guide the tip inside - Din’s moan filthy in your ear.

You come, as he’s pressing into you. Each shallow snap of his hips sinks him deeper, giving you something to clench around as you cry out his name.

A low groan that sounds close to a snarl, as he feels you. Hears your voice break on his name, pride flooding through him.

Not caring that someone else might hear.

Not this time.

Not when you’re pulsing around him, hot and wet and warm. Stiff in his arms as the spark flickers down your limbs, as you senselessly grind back against him.

Riding out the waves - until the fire that floods through you cools down to an ember, warm and low in your belly.

He pulls back, then - your moan pitiful as he leaves you empty. Urging you onto your stomach, as his weight presses against your back.

A sloppy thrust of his hips sends his cock against the curve of your ass, your thighs, before he finds you again.

Entering you with a long, slow thrust - punching the air from your lungs. His chest pressed against your back, braced on his forearms as his shoulder curl around yours.

Helmet biting into your shoulder as he pulls half-out, only to bury himself again.

“Fuck, mesh’la,” He groans, the words drawn out. You can only moan in response, as he splits you open, “So fucking perfect. My sweet girl.”

It’s needy, desperate. Clothes pushed to the side as needed, your legs pressed between his knees. His armor solid when it presses against you, the tent filling with the creak of the leather straps, the smack of skin on skin as he fills you.

Laid out, underneath him, fingers curling into the blankets as he pulls each soft sound from you.

Your thighs still bound by your leggings, making him feel even bigger, deeper, than last time. A little wiggle of your hips as you try to meet his thrusts, moaning against the bedding.

Half-finding your voice, panting the words out, “Feels so good. Gods, I missed you-“

His response a rough hum of agreement - nearly past words with his need. Managing a gritted out, “missed you, too” as his hips snap against yours.

Grinding himself deep, his cock dragging against your walls. Bumping that spongey spot that makes you see stars, over and over.

Until you can’t resist - until you’re shoving an arm between your stomach and the bedding. Reaching desperately between your thighs.

Fingers touching down on soaked skin, splitting around where he’s buried in you. Feeling the slide of his shaft, as his weight presses into just a little more.

It’s bliss, as your fingertips circle your clit. The heavy weight of him - the deep, pounding thrusts.

Din’s voice, so low in your ear. An edge that drives you wild, “I’m, fuck-”

He shifts, just barely slowing, “Want you to come with me. Can you do that?”

If he keeps it up, you know you can. Sending his cock against that spot, paired with the stroke of your fingers.

“Yes,” You manage, “So close-”

His reply is groaned out, a tremor in the way he holds himself. Losing that steady rhythm as your hips tilt, as he sinks just a tiny bit deeper. Listening to the way your breath changes - faster, higher.

Until his arm is shifting, the twist of his wrist as he reaches for your free one. Fingers entwining in yours, as your own vision starts to go hazy.

“Cyare, I can’t-” The words sound frustrated, but he can stop the rutting of his hips - so close to his own release. Trying to draw it out for you. Unable to hold back, as he feels you spread out beneath him.

“Wanna feel you,” You beg him, “Please, Din-”

Fingers circling quickly, feeling yourself tighten up again. His thrusts rough now, breath loud as he falls to the sound of your begging.

A pretty, drawn-out groan as he presses himself deep. Your name, mixed in with his breath as his cock throbs. Shallow thrusts with each pulse that ripples through him, as he empties himself.

It sends you over. Full of him as you come, milking him dry as your thighs clench. Shattering with white-hot pleasure, as he holds you - everything else seeming to fade, to grow soft and hazy.

Taking you a second to realize the strangled moans are yours, mixing with his soft, soothing praises.

Staying pressed together until your breathing returns to normal. Until he’s carefully sliding from you, and you’re doing your best to clean up, dripping and sticky with him.

Finding each other again after, in the darkness of the tent. Not wanting to be apart - not after today.

It feels like a weight been carved out of you. Leaving you hollow, in the darkness. Pressed up against him, though for the first time in days - you can breathe.

A comfort in the tents that surround you. The warmth of the fires, the city now silent.

“I don’t know what waits for us inside.” Your words are whispered out into the night. Guilt still gnaws at you, as you remember your promise, “I am so sorry that I couldn’t protect our home.”

“You did the right thing. That man’s cruelty is not your fault.” A palm strokes down your arm, your cheek pressed against his bare chest. Feeling the rumble of his words as they comfort you.

“If anything, it is mine.”

It has your head tilting up, chin pressing into this skin. Frowning, as you repeat his words back to him, “His cruelty is not your fault either. I heard what Karga said. They shot first. They chose to return.”

He makes a sound of uncertainty, as silence settles. A long moment passing, before you’re unable to help asking. Clarifying.

"Are you really going to stay, this time?"

The hand moves to your back then, pulling you closer. Tucking you further against him, until your nose is brushing the warm skin of his neck. Filling your senses with him - his voice, the warm, familiar scent of leather and metal and him.

"Yes, cyare." He soothes, "We'll stay. And if anything has happened to our home… we'll rebuild."

And you can hear the smile in his voice then, the word home. Because it was before, and it still is, now.

A finality in the way he says it. His own comfort in knowing that you're safe. In knowing that his culture will flourish here - that the children of the covert will feel what it is to play in the sunlight, once again.

“Together."

But if you send for me, you know I'll come

And if you call for me, you know I'll run

I'll run to you, I'll run to you

I'll run, run, run

(Mando’a: mesh’la - beautiful / cyare & cyar’ika - sweetheart / riduur - spouse)

[jeannepompadour]

Silent film actress Jetta Goudal in the film "Salome of the Tenements", 1925

[helena-bottom-farter]

[freemoviess]

Complete the CAPTCHA below to watch

Black Panther Wakanda Forever movie.for free

clike here

[bebs-art-gallery]

Female Rage in Paintings

Judith Slaying Holofernes by Artemisia Gentileschi | Salome with the Head of Saint John the Baptist by Caravaggio | Judith Beheading Holofernes by Caravaggio | Jael and Sisera by Alessandro Turchi | Judith with the Head of Holofernes by Louis Finson | Jael slays Sisera by Ottavio Vannini | Judith and Her Maidservant with the Head of Holofernes by Orazio Gentileschi | La Douce Résistance by Michel Garnier | Timoclea Kills the Captain of Alexander the Great by Elisabetti Sirani | Untitled by Jose Gabriel Alegría Sabogal | Salome Bearing the Head of Saint John the Baptist by an unknown copyist after c. 1631, originated from Guido Reni

[weirdlookindog]

Kathryn Stanley as Salome, c. 1920s

by Edwin Bower Hesser

[snailspng]

Random PNGs, part 162.

(1. 1890s glass vase by Emile Gallé, 2. Vera Fokina with costume for Salome 1919, 3. “Flying Fish” by Amalric Walter and Henri Bergé, 4. "Chronicles of Spirit Photography" by Georgina Houghton, 5. AWA Radiolette from 1936, 6. Lily pad vase by Tiffany Studios, 7. Marine worm (errantia), 8. Green orbs, 9. 19th c. clock face.)

[persephonethewanderer]

give us gothic literature recs!!!!

here you go anon!

FICTION:

wuthering heights, emily brontë

jane eyre, charlotte brontë

the bloody chamber, angela carter

mathilda, mary shelley

we have always lived in the castle, shirley jackson

the yellow wallpaper, charlotte perkins gilman

rebecca, daphne du maurier

carmilla, sheridan le fanu

dracula, bram stoker

frankenstein, mary shelley

the mill on the floss, george eliot

the orphan's tale, catherynne m. valente

the haunting of hill house, shirley jackson

my cousin rachel, daphne du maurier

the double, fyodor dostoyevsky

the grey woman, elizabeth gaskell

beloved, toni morrison

the fall of the house of usher, edgar allan poe

wise blood, flannery o'connor

white is for witching, helen oyeyemi

wide sargasso sea, jean rhys

our wives under the sea, julia armfield

valerie and her week of wonders, vítězslav nezval

salome, oscar wilde

deathless, catherynne m. valente

piranesi, susanne clarke

picnic at hanging rock, joan lindsay

NON FICTION:

decadent daughters and monstrous mothers: angela carter and european gothic, rebecca munford

the contested castle: gothic novels and the subversion of domestic ideology, kate ferguson ellis

gothic incest: gender, sexuality and transgression, jenny diplacidi

our vampires, ourselves, nina auerbach

the madwoman in the attic, sandra gilbert and susan gubar

a new companion to the gothic, david punter

daughters of the house: modes of the gothic in victorian fiction, alison milbank

women and the gothic, avril horner and sue zlosnik

fairy tale & gothic horror, laura hubner

female gothic histories, diana wallace

women and domestic space in contemporary gothic narratives, andrew hock soon ng

gothic and gender, donna heiland

perils of the night: a feminist study of 19th century gothic, eugenia c. delamotte

the female gothic: new directions, diana wallace and andrew smith

[cowgurrrl]

She’s A Gun

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: *John Mulaney voice* My wife is a bitch and I love her SO much (gif by @salome-c) I also didn’t know how to end this so sorry

Summary: Somebody didn’t give the new guy a heads up about talking about Joel Miller’s family [1.6k]

Warnings: idiots in love, a quick mention of a queer slur, I can’t think of anything else!!

You catch him looking at you across the room as you sip some new whiskey Tommy traded for. He looks young and fresh-faced without many scars or littering the surface of his skin. His eyes are bright when they meet yours, and you give him a polite smile before returning to your drink. Unsurprisingly, he bellies up to the bar a few minutes later. You glance at the door, and the man follows your gaze. 

"You meeting someone?" He asks. The bartender, a kind man named Nick, flashes you a look, but you wave him off, turning to the younger man, who is dead set on making his presence known. 

"You must be new." You say, and he laughs as he holds out his hand. 

"You got me. I'm Luke," He says. You meet him halfway and shake his hand, giving him your name. "Where are you from?"

"I came here from Boston."

"You're a long way from home. What brought you here?" 

"Long story."

"Is it longer than the time it would take to get you another drink?" 

"I can get my own drink, but thank you."

"'Course," he says but doesn't move from his place next to you. "What do you do here in Jackson?" He asks, and you open your mouth to say something, but he cuts you off. "Let me guess. School teacher. No, a nurse."

"I work patrols, but good guess."

"Oh, I'm going to work patrols, too. I actually just signed up for my first shift tomorrow. Speaking of which, do you know anything about this guy… Miller, I think, is his name. I heard he's a hard ass."

"Joel or Tommy?"

"There's multiple?" He asks, and you smirk as you sip your drink.

"There's a few of 'em hanging around, yeah. What did they say? Maybe I can," you shrug and try to hide the amusement in your voice. "Help you figure it out."

"Well, this guy, Seth, said Miller shouldn't even be in Jackson. Something about him killing people to get by before coming here, but he gets to stay because he's buddies with Maria. Apparently, he's a hell of a shot, though. I heard a rumor that he once shot an Infected from a mile away, but I'll believe it when I see it." He says, and you nod. 

You remember that day well. Tommy had been bragging about his marksmanship, mostly telling big fish stories, and you finally got sick of it. Joel told you to leave it, but you had to see. When you went on patrol the next day, you and Tommy had a competition to see how far he could actually shoot. You passed the gun back and forth to see who could hit accurately and how far. You were the one holding the gun when the Infected bound his way up the hill and quickly went down as the bullet buried in his skull. You didn't think that story would've made the rounds, though. 

"What else did Seth say?" You ask, and he puffs his cheeks out as he shakes his head.

"He told me to stay away from him. Something about not fucking with people like that because he's ruthless, especially when it comes to his kid. He said Miller yelled at him last week because he said something to her. Just... totally lost his mind like a crazy person." It wasn't just something. He called my daughter a dyke, you think to yourself. Joel may have pushed him and made him leave, but you threatened to ruin his fucking life. If you ever hear him say something like that to Ellie again, you'll make Joel look like the poster child for forgiveness. You bite the inside of your cheek and save that information for later. 

Seth wasn't warning Luke about Joel. He was warning him about you.

"And you're sure he was talking about a man?"

"Pretty sure. I mean, I know people do lots of shitty things to stay alive, but I can't imagine a woman instilling that much fear in a man like Seth," He says, and you hum. "No offense."

"None taken." You smile and watch his guard come down just enough for him to feel comfortable reaching for your arm.

"I wish I had known they let women as beautiful as you out on patrol. I would've signed up with you instead of Miller." He says, and you almost gag. Joel's hand skims your lower back almost as if on cue, and you turn to face him. He kisses you a second too long before looking over your shoulder to face the stranger who looks embarrassed. His arm wraps protectively around your middle, and he's close enough that you can smell his shampoo over the bar’s stench of stale beer.

"Great timing. This is Luke. He's starting patrols tomorrow," You say. Joel reaches across the space to shake his hand, and Luke winces at his too-tight grip. "Luke, this is my husband, Joel Miller," you wish you had a camera to take a picture of the stunned look on his face when he hears the last name. "Joel, we were just talking about the last time I was on patrol with Tommy."

"You're Miller?" Luke asks, suddenly looking pale. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Oh, I thought I mentioned it. I'm sorry, I'm probably losing my mind." You echo Seth's words and smack yourself on the forehead dramatically. Luke drains his drink before glancing around the room.

"It was great to meet you, man. Um, I'm gonna run to the bathroom really fast." He says and takes several steps away from the bar. 

"Oh, so soon? I was hoping you and Joel could talk about routes."

"Maybe later." He says, and with that, he's gone. You smile and turn in Joel's arms to face him.

"Jesus, I thought he was going to have a heart attack. What did you say to him?" 

"Seth was warning him about the mercenary who's buddies with Maria and shot an Infected from a mile away, asked if I knew anything about the guy."

"Seth should learn to keep his fuckin' mouth shut." He grumbles, and you nod.

"It didn't help his case that he tried flirting with me. Even asked if I was a school teacher." You say, and he gives you a look. His warm fingers reach under your shirt collar to pull out the chain with your wedding band on it.

"Maybe if you actually wore this, that wouldn't happen so often."

"C'mon, everybody knows I'm yours. It's not my fault no one gave him the run down," you say, and he tugs on the chain to kiss you, his big hands moving to hold your jaw. He swallows your gasp when he licks into your mouth, sending a zing of electricity down your spine. He's a touch too handsy for a public space, but you're not complaining. "I don't see you wearing yours out on patrol either." You say, pulling away before he can start something he can't finish, at least not in public. Still, his hand slips into your back pocket, squeezing your ass through the denim.

"Don't want to lose a finger. Besides, everybody knows I'm yours," he parrots, and you smile. A familiar, old country song plays over the speakers, and Joel lights up at the first few chords. "Will you dance with me?" He asks, pressing light kisses to your jaw to butter you up. You lock your arms around his shoulders and let yourself forget about everyone else in the bar. 

"And to think there was a time when you hated PDA."

"That was before someone tried hittin' on my wife," he says, and you feel like your face will get stuck from smiling so much. It's been three months since the small backyard wedding officiated by Tommy and Maria. Ellie walked you down the aisle— more of a patch of grass than anything else— and acted as your maid of honor. When Tommy asked if she agreed to give you to Joel, she said, "it's not like she's fucking property, but sure." She beamed so brightly when she realized you each included her in your vows, promising to love and protect her as much as you love and protect each other. It wasn't planned, but the unexpected matching further proved that you three are a family. Still, you don't know if you'll ever get used to hearing Joel call you his wife. "Dance with me, please." He pouts into your neck, and you finally give in, grabbing his hand and leading him to the dance floor. 

He pulls you close, and you bury your face in his neck as you slowly dance to Tanya Tucker's voice. He sings along for only you to hear, his accent getting stronger as he does. You could stay like this forever, wrapped up in him and listening to him sing the same song you used to sing along to while driving on backroads. You would marry him again if you could. You think you would marry him in every lifetime.

Scary rumors of mercenaries and blood on your hands fade from your mind. To men like Seth and Luke, you are a subversion of their holy mother. You are bloody and broken, a monster beyond saving. You are a warzone with a heartbeat.

But to Joel, you are the most sacred thing he's ever held. It's not enough to erase the rumors and nightmares about you, but it's enough to knock the wind out of you and make you love your husband that much more. That has to count for something. 

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Tag list: @evyiione

[salome-c]

Strange Way of Life (2023) trailer + Tumblr reactions

[labyrinthofstreams]

Maud Allan in the role of Salome with the head of John the Baptist, c. 1906–1910.

[harmoonix]

💅🏼Astrology Beauty Observations

Part II

• Badass, Majestic, Hot •

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H O T N E S S

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• Asteroid Salome [562] Your inner wildfire

Asteroid Salome in Water Signs [Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces] share a mystery surrounding them, attractive like a magnet makes your heart to beat faster everytime they make eye contact with you

Asteroid Salome in Earth Signs [Virgo, Capricorn, Taurus] give a bossy energy, something that gives expensive, luxurious and elegant something rare to keep it only for yourself, that's what they are

Asteroid Salome in Fire Signs [Sagittarius, Aries, Leo] makes your breath to go slower and slower everytime they walk in the room the attention is on them

Asteroid Salome in Air Signs [Libra, Aquarius, Gemini] are natural charmers, born with the ability to steal hearts and minds, their words can melt your heart and rise up your blood pressure

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B O L D N E S S

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• Asteroid Hatshepsut [2436] The badass of them all

Asteroid Hatshepsut in Fire Signs {Aries, Leo, Sagittarius) rule with a wild heart and a fiery personality, they are wild and adventurous, nothing scares them. Boldness all day everyday

Asteroid Hatshepsut in Air Signs (Gemini, Aquarius, Libra) rule with a wind of savage words and seductive body language, very intelligent and strategic. Also very tempting to be around them feels like you can't resist without talking with them or making something to attract their attention

Asteroid Hatshepsut in Water Signs (Pisces, Cancer,Scorpio) rule with a wave full of magic and mistery, they are misterious and hypnotizing, when you see them you will feel to keep them only for yourself

Asteroid Hatshepsut in Earth Signs (Capricorn, Taurus, Virgo) rule with the most gracious nature, they are bossy and dominant, a real Queen/King energy. Magnetic to many, they know their worth.

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M A J E S T I C

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• Asteroid Kalisto [204] - Royal Beauty

Kalisto in Earth Signs [Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn] are very respectful of everyone around them and always have this magnetic positivity around them. They can catch your attention so easily, also their natural charm goes insaneee

Kalisto in Water Signs [Scorpio, Pisces, Cancer] are very touchy and sensitive, pure and so innocent, having this angelic aura around

Kalisto in Fire Signs [Aries, Sagittarius, Leo] are so intense and passionate with everything and everyone around them, they are like sour outside and sugar inside

Kalisto in Air Signs [Gemini, Libra, Aquarius] are curious and charming in their words, they can catch your attention with their voices, tend to have this unique voice

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🌹 Placements: (Minor aspects can be included)

🌹 Ascendant aspecting Uranus (all aspects) have an unique style of dressing, they will be always coming with a new style

🌹 Ascendant sextile/trine/conjunct Jupiter will always have a prominent/showing off body especially the thighs and legs

🌹 Moon aspecting Venus (all aspects) are giving fairy vibes because of their aura, they are so beautiful inside and out and can tend to share this type of energy to others

🌹 Ascendant quintile/bi-quintile Mars can have a fiery personality or just tend to be more intense than others when it comes to them, they are always on fire (They can embody Aries Rising traits)

🌹 Ascendant quintile/bi-quintile Pluto is mesmerizing, they are leaving the people with their mouth open when these natives are entering in a room (They can embody Scorpio Rising traits)

🌹 Ascendant sextile/semi - sextile Sun can be pretty funny and chill to have around, always the type of person who can do 29292003 selfies and manage to look beautiful in them all

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🌹 Ascendant aspecting Moon are giving enchanting vibes, they are extremely beautiful at heart and very compassionate

🌹 Venus in Air Signs dress based on their mood,on what they feel, on what they think they would look good in and it can take hours but the result will be fatale

🌹 Venus in Water Signs will likely dress by heart, by their desire. If they want to dress with a certain style will they do that with no hesitation

🌹 Lilith aspecting ascendant can look really fire when they wear tight clothes and dark colors to help you be in more of your energy

🌹 Lilith quincunx ascendant can embody more traits of styles and to have more categories when it comes to how they want to dress or to wear

🌹 Libra/Leo/Taurus/Cancer Lilith look extremely good wearing jeweleries, especially jeweleries that match with their outfits

🌹 Virgo/Sagittarius/Capricorn and Gemini Lilith dress more to impress amd want to look ICONIC everytime they do it, they want it to be perfect and beauty in the same time

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🌹 Venus in Fire Signs will HOT wearing their red vulcano color in clothes, for real like dress like your element and you will shine, red suits you at the most and best style

🌹 Venus in Earth Signs will more likely dress more elegant/gracious than others because they have refinement in their blood

🌹 Aphrodite (1388) quintile/bi-quintile Venus can dress magnetic, this placement being with this energy can often give the vibe of "Your looks can kill", even with an minor asteroid

🌹 Aphrodite (1388) quintile/bi-quintile Sun are always having this magnificent personality who makes them shine even more and brighter, they are just like a star

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💋 Hello dear darlings 💋

💋 Here comes the part II to y'all 🥰🥰 enjoy the 3 new asteroids + some additional observations including with minor aspects aswell since some of you wanted some minor aspects observations 🥰

💋 Hope you all have a great day full of light and warm energy, queens and kings 💋

💋 May the Divine Feminine be with us all today and for the future posts 💋

With a lot of love. H a r m o o n i x 💋

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Harmoonix2023®

[the1920sinpictures]

1925 c. "Salome" evening shoes by Perugia of kid skin, metal and silver plating. They came with additional heels! From Palais Galleria Musee de la Mode Paris.