carnaxe

[carnaxe]

my wounds are part of my outfit. you wouldn't get it

[carnaxe]

[carnaxe]

kissing the duct tape that’s over her mouth so she knows i still care about her

[carnaxe]

"It's been a while....partner." red hues glide up the form of the other woman until they can lock with Odessa's intense gaze. Red lips quirk up into a smirk whilst fingerless gloved hand rose so a painted nail could ghost across a toned arm.

Diesel and grease, the sweat of machinery and men, sour beer – the signature perfume of Junkertown’s underbelly. The dive-bar had no name, only a rusted-out sign that blinked with a broken ‘O’ and a red-lit ‘Bar’ that flickered like a dying eye. Inside, it was all shadow and iron, no windows save the high vents where steam belched out like the sighs of the damned. The floor was scarred concrete, wet in places, sticky in others. Every stool groaned under the weight of some armed brute or another. Somewhere in the corner, a dog barked once then fell silent.

Odessa sat alone at the end of the bar, arms folded, a chipped shot glass untouched before her. Her presence, even in stillness, was like a knife left on the table – visible, gleaming, not to be ignored. Her hair, ink-black and tousled, fell like soot over one eye. The other, hard and luminous as a star on the verge of collapse, stared into the bar’s oxidised mirror, half-watching herself, half-waiting for some spectre of memory to materialise.

Time had passed like a slow bleed.

Junkertown might have changed in Ashe’s absence – more cages, fewer rules – but Dez hadn’t. She still wore her leathers like a second skin, still moved like a woman born in fire. Her gloves were bloodstained. The bullet casing under her collarbone hadn’t been opened in months. There was a photograph rolled up inside – creased and sun-faded. A girl with white hair and a red mouth. A smile like a cigarette’s last ember.

Then, the sound of boots.

She knew it before the bar turned to look. Knew it in the way the air seemed to pulse, how the conversations died. It was a sound that didn’t belong in this pit – the easy swagger of wealth ill-spent and well-earned, spurred with arrogance and promise.

“It’s been a while... partner.”

Dez didn’t turn at first. She felt the voice like a gun pressed to the small of her back, cocked and ready. For a moment, she breathed smoke instead of air.

Then the touch – a single painted nail, red as old blood or young lust, ghosted along the swell of her bicep. Dez’s skin flinched, then sang. That small touch was enough to redraw entire maps of memory.

She turned.

Ashe stood framed in neon like a deviant Madonna. Her white hair was a perfect disorder, eyes momentarily shaded by her hat but mouth unmistakable. That smirk – that damned smirk – was a match struck in a gas-leak room.

Their eyes met. No words from Dez yet. Just a silence thick with old sins and renewed thirst.

In the theatre of their gaze, the world receded. The bar, the dog, the noise, all fell away like scaffolding burned down to reveal the cathedral of their ruinous affection. Lovers who never got the timing right. Gunslingers with matching ghosts.

Ashe had left and Dez had stayed – soured, smouldering, waiting.

“You’ve still got that look,” Dez said at last, voice low, husky with restraint. “Like you just rode through hell and kissed the devil on the mouth.”

She leaned in slightly, not close enough to touch, but close enough to taste the perfume that clung to Ashe's coat. Her mouth quirked, not quite a smile. The tension between them wasn’t sharp – it was molten, slow and ruinous like fever. The kind that came in waves and left the skin glistening. There was love, yes, but not the kind that redeemed. This was love with a kill-switch. Love that knew where all the bones were buried because it had helped dig the grave.

Dez’s hand rose, almost reflexively, but stopped short of touching.

“You come back here to drink, or to finish what we started?”

The lights above them flickered once, twice. Somewhere in the background, the jukebox croaked into life, crooning about burning hearts and bad women.

Perfect.

[carnaxe]

Let's hear it for violence! Let's give it up for sexualized violence! Let's all show a big round of applause for making violence horny and gay!

[carnaxe]

no this is the hill YOU die on. because i’m gonna kill you for disagreeing with me

[carnaxe]

𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝓰𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓼 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗂𝗇 '𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗂'𝗆 ＤＥＡＤＬＯＣＫＥＤ 𝗂𝗇 .

[carnaxe]

Life has cursed me with this thing called "rage".

nutnoce / linnea paskow / k.c. cramm / black iris - leah raede / audre lorde, sister love: the letters of audre lorde & pat parker

[carnaxe]

Sloppy pair of inked boots.

[carnaxe]

the first rule of eating pussy is to have fun and be yourself

[carnaxe]

[carnaxe]

i am a girlboss i am a war criminal i am a lunatic . i am clinically insane & the next virgin mary & i am never going to die

[carnaxe]

Angela Carter, from "The Lady of the House of Love" in The Collected Stories

[carnaxe]

i wouldn’t ever do that to you babe

i would do much worse

[carnaxe]

Artist: Olivia steele

[carnaxe]

God bless Kathleen Turner

[carnaxe]

PROMPTS FROM THE MANDALORIAN - "THE MARSHAL" *  assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary

enjoy the fights.

i know you're good at killing.

i figure only one of us is walking out of here.

maybe i pegged you wrong.

who are you?

where did you get the armor?

hand it over.

i'm sure you call the shots where you come from, but around here, i'm the one who tells folks what to do.

take it off. or i will.

we gonna do this in front of the kid?

right here, then?

do you gamble?

i'm prepared to pay you for the information.

i'm not leaving my fate up to chance.

thank you for coming to me.

give it to me now, or i will peel it off your corpse.

i thought you said you weren't a gambler.

all right, stop! stop! i'll tell you where he is!

you must promise that you won't kill me!

i promise that you will not die by my hand.

my information is good, i tell you.

you can't leave me like this. cut me down!

that wasn't part of the deal.

this little thing had me worried sick.

you know he doesn't like droids.

may as well let them have at it.

you don't understand what it was like.

i've got an idea.

get its attention.

you still have that detonator?

what's the plan?

what are you gonna do?

wish me luck.

maybe we can work something out.

they might be open to some fresh ideas.

it's not to scale.

it's a whole lot bigger than i guessed.

might be time to rethink our arrangement.

that's more like it.

where are they getting the reinforcements?

i hope someday our paths will cross again.

you know what that means?

we've heard the stories.

this one's got a problem.

looks like it remembers me.

how much do you want for it?

just kidding. but not really.

can i help you?

we don't get many visitors in these parts.

you want to tell me what's going on?

i'm here on business. i need your help.

can you tell me where it used to be?

you know this is no place for a child.

wherever i go, he goes.

you can't just get help anymore.

you still have that speeder bike?

what am i supposed to do with this?

you drink it.

lower your voice.

you're agitating them.

how do we kill it?

what brings you here?

why don't you join me for a drink?