Text
Reverend Beat-Man @ Cully Jazz Festival
View On WordPress
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
The MONSTERS!
youtube
Scandinavian Bestial Death Metal? PUH-LEEZE. Japanese Harsh Noise? GIMME A FUCKIN BREAK! This is the true evil that rock’n’rollers do, and you’ll be trembling in your creepers before your asses even get close to bumping to the radical raunch contained on this truly amazing long-player. Even long time rabid fans will be stunned by the sheer magnitude of nastiness and horror here, and if you’re a newcomer, we wish you the best of luck! Yeah, that’s a harpsichord and a choir on the intro. Oops, that’s the outro. We listen to shit backwards and you should too. But so fucking what? Religion rightly scares the piss out of us, and The Monsters make no bones about their just demands of servitude. But you know what the craziest part of this disaster is? It’s not simply that it transcends any trite categories like “GARAGE,” or “PSYCHOBILLY,” or even just (JUST!) “ROCK’n’ROLL,” it’s your perception of maestro Beatman’s tried and true and fried as fuck vocal throttle that’s damaged even further by him singing in Swiss-German for the first time on any of his vast catalog o’ cool, and it’s for the entirety of this monster swingin’ album! You want the English version? Well take your ass to his legendary Voodoo Rhythm label (Records To Ruin Any Party!) and imbibe as you are wont to do, but we’re gambling that this language, which has no formal written application, is going to screw your brains like his charmingly broken English has never done before. No offense, we love everything the Beatman touches, but this bold and genius move has got our lobes knocked up like a barefoot mormon sister-wife. Mondo Mongo, mofos! Familiar tracks from killer records past, like “I’m a Stranger To Me” reappear as “Frömd vo Mir” (hell, that one is almost a cognate) but everything here promises a hellish trip into the void, and we guarantee your eternal delight, but make no promises for your mental welfare.
#The Monsters#theswissmonsters#Reverend Beat-Man#voodoorhythmrecords#slovenlyrecordings#slovenly recordings#reverendbeatman#musicvideo
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Reverend © David Tanné
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Rosemary
Summary: Kidnapped in the middle of the night you’re dragged far away from camp by the ruthless Lemoyne Raiders. Your disappearance a painful wound for Arthur who has to, quite literally, fight for your love back.
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4
AO3 link
Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader
Content: angst, hurt/comfort (finallyyy !!!) description of gun fight, kidnapping, heavy themes
wc: 5k
a/n: so we’ve finally come to the end of this silly little story. The comfort is finally here woohoo !! I’m actually kinda proud of this chapter because I tried a different approach to writing and idk,, i like it. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to every single one of you who liked Rosemary and filled my days with love, I’ll forever be grateful to all of you. A slightly better version of Rosemary will be posted on my ao3 account along with a new series im writing following John Marston and the reader. The plot for it will be revealed in a few days. As always let me know what you think of this chapter <33 (gif from pinterest)
Pain.
The very first thing you noticed was the pain—a sharp, throbbing agony spreading from the back of your head to the front. You winced as you tried to move your hands to support your head but your limbs felt heavy, almost as if you were trying to lift one of Pearson’s flour bags.
Everything was dark. A muffled piercing sound rang through your skull. You blinked, trying to clear your vision, but failing as the pitch darkness of the thick woods clouded your vision. Trying your hardest to get out of your dream-like state you decided to focus your mind on what exactly was happening, the last thing you remembered was your fight with Arthur and taking a walk into the woods outside camp. And then the pain. Oh, the pain was killing you.
You had to go back to camp and ask Reverend Swanson for some medicine.
You once again tried to raise your hands to your head to check for blood but your action, unfortunately, was unsuccessful. And then you felt it. The rough, scratching sensation of rope digging into your wrists. Your arms were bound tightly behind your back, the coarse braided fibers of the rope biting into your skin with every slight movement. Panic flooded your mind, its freezing tide rushing down on you as you realized that you were tied up.
“She’s comin’ to. We better hurry up before she starts and give us trouble,” A low, hoarse voice cut through your panic haze.
From your lying position, what seemed like the figure of a large man could be made out approaching you in the darkness. You felt yourself being hoisted roughly into the air, before you were slung harshly like a sack of potatoes, across something hard. A horse, you judged by the pungent smell of hay that invaded your nostrils. The saddle dug painfully into your side as the animal began to move forward under the command of its rider. The sudden movement made you almost throw up, your head pounding rhythmically with each rapid beat of hooves on the woods ground. You wanted to scream but no sound escaped your throat, the pain in your body too intense. As the horse rode further and further into the woods you could feel your consciousness slowly slip away,
‘Arthur,’ you managed to utter before darkness took over you.
The second time you awoke, it was due to the biting cold of dawn. The sky above was just starting to lighten, the first rays of sunrise penetrating through the dense treetops, coloring everything in pale hues. You were lying on the ground again, your body stiff and muscles aching. You shivered uncontrollably, teeth chattering together, your dress doing a poor job at keeping you warm, as you tried your best to gather your scattered thoughts. The men were still nearby, the sound of their hushed voices mixing with the rustling of leaves blowing in the wind. Despite the overwhelming pain and tiredness you felt washing all over your body you forced yourself to stay awake.
You rolled to the side as best as you could, mud staining the soft colored fabric of your dress and cheeks, trying to find out where they had taken you. You knew you had to think clearly, to find a way out of this nightmare. Your eyes, although blurred, scanned the area in front of you. You were in the Bayou area, the shadow of tall trees and surrounding swamp a dead giveaway of the location and judging by the various bottles of moonshine all over the place, your kidnappers probably took you to an old moonshine distillery camp.
“You sure she’s worth all this trouble?” a high pitched voice asked.
“What, a beauty like her ? Absolutely partner,” another man responded, his tone cruel. “Just keep her quiet until the boss comes back, then we’ll have ourselves a real party,” he added laughing.
Fear gripped your chest like a vise—you could hear footsteps approaching, quick and heavy. Rough hands grabbed you by the shoulders, flipping you over onto your back, your eyes focusing just enough to see the blurred outline of a man’s face looming above you, the bitter smell of liquor and tobacco taking over your senses, the end of his yellow scarf tied around his neck dangling down in front of you. Lemoyne raiders.
“Well, look who’s finally awake,” he muttered, his voice dripping with mockery as he smiled down at you. He took out a small pocket knife from his satchel leaning in closer. The blade flashed in front of your eyes as he lowered it down to your cheek, slowly moving it down towards your neck without breaching your skin.
Your breath caught up in your throat, your chest rising and falling rapidly making you lightheaded as the blade touched the sensitive skin of your neck. Your heart pounded so violently in your chest that it made you physically sick. A strained whimper left your lips as tears welled up in your eyes blurring your vision. You were completely frozen in place, terrified under the man’s knife. The man menacingly laughed at the sound you let out, flashing his yellow teeth at you, satisfaction evident in his cold eyes.
He roughly manhandled you up by your arm, his tight grip leaving dark bruises on your skin as your feet dragged in the mud. The man pushed you inside a decaying wooden cabin, its interior surprisingly worse than the exterior, you noted as you were sat down on a small chair positioned in the corner of the entrance room, far away from the door.
Another man, much smaller than the previous one, grabbed you by your hair lifting your face towards his making you wince.
“You’re gonna stay nice ‘nd quiet Miss,” he said before stuffing your mouth with a dirty piece of cloth, the bitter taste of dirt making you gag.
The two men spared you one last glance, a satisfied expression painting their faces, before leaving the cabin to join their other men outside, locking you in.
––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––
The usual cheerful chirping of birds coming from the trees surrounding Clemens Point camp acted as a morning alarm for Arthur. The chill morning air biting at his exposed ankles, his blanket messily tangled up his torso as a result of the restless night he spent tossing and turning, waiting for you to come back. He knew that following you was the wrong choice. You wanted some space from him and he respected that, but his heart couldn’t help but ache at the missing warmth of your body in his bed. He waited and waited for you, his eyes growing heavy as he rehearsed in his mind all the ways he could make it up to you, until his body succumbed to its tiredness and fell asleep.
Putting on his hat he lazily walked towards the coffee brewer on the campfire near the ladies’ tents, his mind replaying the events of the night. The way you looked at him as if he had just shoved a knife into your chest, your pretty eyes bloodshot and puffy from the constant crying. Your trembling form making its way out of your shared tent hunting his mind like a vengeful ghost. He loathed himself for that. It was his damn fault. He had to make it right and he’d do anything to take all the pain he caused away.
Sure you had slept with the girls since you never made it back to your tent last night, he expected to find you chatting away with Tilly as the both of you usually prefered to start early on your morning chores, his steps carrying him with a determined aura, but once he made it in front of the ladies’ tents you were not there. His face scrunched up in confusion as a small glimmer of concern planted its root in his head. That same glimmer grew rapidly as he darted his eyes around camp seeing no signs of your presence.
“Arthur,” the gentle sound of Abigail’s voice snapped him out of his turmoil.
“Abigail, hi.” he answered absently, eyes still scanning the camp’s grounds in hope of catching a glimpse of you.
“Look, I don’t want to be nosy but is everything alrigh’ between you two ? I heard you two yelling last night, she was pretty shaken up before you arrived”
“Yes, no—I don’t know. We had an argument, and she didn’t sleep in our bed last night. Can't blame her really, but I can’t seem to find her,” he explained, concern radiating out of every fiber in his body “Have you seen her ?”
“No, not since last night. Maybe she just needs some time alone” she reassured, placing her hand on his shoulder. The gesture soothing his worried thoughts.
“Yeah maybe you’re righ—“ Arthur didn’t get to finish his sentence as the cutting voice of Leopold Strauss interrupted him.
“Herr Morgan, Herr Morgan. Busy, my friend ?” The Austrian man approached him, a folded piece of paper in hand.
Arthur's shoulders dropped. He dreaded working for Strauss, but the older man was persistent, always ready with another fella to squeeze dry for some cash. Sure, the money helped keep the gang afloat, put food on the table, and clothes on the backs of the women and children, but the work, well, the work was dirty. It was the kind of work that gnawed at a man’s conscience.
“What is it now,” Arthur turned to face him, Abigail excusing herself, patting his back before leaving to wake Jack up. Strauss handed him the piece of paper, fortunately for Arthur only one name was scribbled down. ‘Gwyn Hughes’
“He’s an undertaker in Rhodes, he shouldn’t be giving you any trouble but he’s a slippery fellow. Just scare him and collect the debt” he explained. Arthur sighed accepting the job, wondering when all this loan sharking business would come to an end. You always hated when he’d go out dealing with Strauss’ business, saying how the gang should steal from the rich to help the poor and not steal from the poor to help the poor. He knew deep down inside of him you were right, but unfortunately money is money and with the gang’s situation looking far from good, every single cent counted.
He put the paper in his satchel before walking towards the hitching post, his gaze falling on your Tennessee Walker before mounting his horse.
“Oi english!” Sean called out from his lookout post “you look like shit this mornin’”
“Yeah well, don’t I always,” Arthur groaned before signaling his horse to move forward.
The collection of the debt turned out stranger than Arthur ever imagined. As it turned out Gwyn Hughes, the debtor, planned to pay back his debt by robbing a woman’s grave and as if that wasn’t enough he tasked Arthur to clear the cemetery and eventually stop the people from coming in. By noon, Arthur left Rhodes with a diamond brooch, a few bruises on his face and a confused conscience.
He returned to camp exhausted, his body and mind heavy, the dirty work weighed heavily on him as he hitched his horse near camp. All he wanted now was to see you, hear the sweet sound of your voice, even if you’d yell at him. He just wanted to see you. But as he ventured inside the camp, the usual hum of chatter was gone, the atmosphere heavy. Something was off. Abigail and Sadie were the first to come up to him, Abigail face pale while Sadie scanned around camp anxiously.
“Arthur,” the brunette called out, her voice rising with an edge of worry as they hurried towards him. “She ain’t been back”
Arthur’s heart skipped a beat “Wha—What do you mean she ain’t been back ? Nobody’s seen her ?”
“Last time I saw her was last night, I was on lookout and saw her headin’ out towards the woods, thought she was goin’ for a walk” Sadie explained, her expression filled with worry. “I asked ‘round camp and no one has seen her today”
His stomach dropped as numerous possibilities of what could’ve happened to you flashed through his mind. Without muttering a word to the two women, Arthur stormed over to Dutch’s tent, the latter standing outside talking to Hosea about the recent developments on the Gray-Braithwaite situation. The moment they saw Arthur approaching their conversation dissolved, the look on his face signaling them that something was off.
“What’s the matter Arthur ?” Dutch asked, concern dancing in his eyes.
“It’s about her, she went out last night and no one has seen her since” he explained, his voice strained. Dutch expression hardened
“You think something happened to her ?”
“I do, yeah”
“Alright then better move quickly, Charles! Bill !” Dutch called, his voice reverberating across the camp calling out the two men. “Arthur’s Miss is missing. I want you two to go out with him, see if you can track her down. The others, I want all eyes on the perimeters of camp, if she comes back you holler. Nobody moves from camp.”
Charles, who had been crafting some poisonous arrows near by the campfire, quickly dropped his task as he listened to what happened. He quickly gathered all his gear and began to move towards the horses, Bill just a few paces behind him.
“We’ll find her, Arthur. She’s gonna be okay” Hosea consoled him, but the older man's words did little to calm Arthur’s racing heart.
Within minutes, the three men were mounted on their horses and heading into the woods where Sadie had last seen you. Arthur’s mind was racing, a dangerous storm of fear and anger bubbling beneath the surface. He couldn’t lose you, not like this. Not after everything that happened.
The woods were dense, the tall trees casting deep shadows that made it difficult to see much of anything, but luckily Charles was an expert tracker, the hunter’s keen eyes scanning every inch of the ground for any sign of you.
After what felt like an eternity for Arthur, Charles held up his hand, signaling the other two men to stop. He dismounted Taima and crouched down, examining something on the ground. Arthur quickly joined him, his breath catching in his throat as he saw what his friend had found.
It was her bracelet, the golden one he had gifted you for your first anniversary. The small wristlet laid in the dirt, the delicate chain now broken. Arthur felt the whole world crashing down on him as he picked it up, his hands shaking in a mix of anger and fear.
––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––
As the hours dragged on, you struggled to stay alert. The pain in your head had dulled to a persistent ache, but every muscle in your body screamed in protest with every small movement. Your wrist burned, blood dripping down your hands as you tried to wriggle them out of your ropes, the process slow and agonizing, but you could feel the ropes loosening further and further. You just needed to grit your teeth through the pain. The men had become less concerned about you, talking and drunkenly laughing amongst themselves, making you nauseous at their inhumanity.
Then a man entered the cabin, followed by two others behind him. He was tall and well built, his hairline receding leaving his hair to hang awkwardly on the sides. By the way he dragged himself around you deduced he was their leader. He crouched down beside you, his face dangerously close to yours, his breath fanning in your face making you scrunch your nose at the rancid smell of his breath. He reached out to check your ropes, tightening them furthermore, the action causing bolts of pain to shoot through your body.
“What was a pretty lady like yourself doing all alone in the woods mh?” He took out the now drenched piece of cloth out of your mouth. You swallowed, feeling your dry throat burning at the action.
You couldn’t muster the strength to respond. Your head lolled to the side as the man stepped back, a sinister grin plastered on his face. Then a harsh, stinging sensation hit your cheek.
“I said what were you doing all alone in the woods, slut” Tears welled in your eyes, both from the pain and the hopelessness of your situation. Your thoughts kept drifting back to Arthur. You had to hold on, had to find a way to escape, if not for yourself, then for him. He would come for you—you knew it deep down in your heart, but you needed to survive until then.
––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––
Arthur’s eyes burned with anger and fear. He clenched his fists around the bracelet, his mind racing. “She was here,” Charles said quietly, his voice grim. “And she wasn’t alone. Look at these tracks, it seems like there was a struggle. She was taken.”
“By who?” asked Bill.
Charles pointed his finger to the ground, where the faint outline of various boot prints led away from their spot. “Judging by the tracks, it looks like a group of men. Three, maybe four. Could be Lemoyne Raiders. They must’ve grabbed her and taken her somewhere nearby. At this point the only place near is the old moonshine distillery.”
Arthur’s blood ran cold at the thought of you in the hands of the Raiders. The Lemoyne Raiders were known for their brutality, his encounter a few weeks prior with Sadie confirmed their reputation. The thought of what they could be doing to you filled him with a rage so intense it nearly consumed him.
“We find their hideout, and we get her out,” Arthur said through gritted teeth, already mounting up on his horse “I’m gonna kill all them goddamned bastards. I don’t care what it takes.”
Mounting their horses they followed the tracks, the three men riding fast through the woods. Thankfully it hadn’t rained so the trail was still clearly visible. It led them deeper into the Bayou region, the trees growing thicker and the air heavier with humidity and tension.
Finally, after what felt like hours, they spotted the moonshine distillery through the trees. It was a crumbling mess of buildings, half-hidden by the vegetation in the shadows, but there was no mistaking it. A few horses were tethered outside, and faint light flickered from the windows of an old cabin.
Arthur’s heart pounded as he dismounted. Charles and Bill followed him as they hid behind a crumbled stone wall, his hand instinctively reaching for his gun. Their eyes scanned the area, there was a man guarding the horses while a group of five others were sitting near by the campfire, drinking and laughing with each other. He exchanged a quick glance with Bill and Charles. This was it. They’d kill those bastards outside, storm the cabin, take out anyone who stood in their way, and get you out of there.
“Let’s go, I’ll take that guard near the horses out” Bill whispered, his voice steady with resolve. He made quick work of killing the guard, his knife glimmering just a second in the light before settling into the man’s neck. Charles and Arthur joined Bill in action. Arthur was the first to shoot his gun, the bullet piercing clean through one of the men’s chest. Then all hell broke loose.
Bullets went flying as the Lemoyne Raiders spotted them, the air filled with smoke and gunpowder as both sides fought violently. Their position didn’t offer too much cover, the Lemoyne Raiders, although drunk, fought hard, their guns never stopping. A stray bullet scraped Arthur’s arm but that didn’t stop him as he barely registered it. His mind was singularly focused on one thing—getting to you before it was too late. And in just a few minutes Arthur, Charles and Bill managed to take down all five men outside. Moving quickly out of their cover they reached the front of the cabin, and with a nod from Arthur, they burst through the door.
Chaos erupted as they stormed inside. The few Lemoyne Raiders inside the cabin barely had time to react before Bill and Charles opened fire, cutting them down where they stood. Arthur moved with deadly precision, his eyes scanning the room for any sign ofyou. And then he saw you, tied to a chair in the corner of the room, your face bruised, wrist bloody but alive. You were alive
The last of the Raiders fell as Arthur rushed to your side, his hands quickly working to untie the ropes that bound you so tightly. Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice, you thought this was just your mind playing tricks but tears welled up in your eyes falling rapidly down your face when you realized it wasn’t your mind playing tricks, it was really him. Arthur had found you.
“Arthur,” you barely whispered, your voice hoarse and weak.
“Shh, I’ve got you,” Arthur murmured, his voice shaking as he finally freed you from the chair. He quickly checked you for more injuries before pulling you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he’d never let go. “I’ve got you sweetheart. You’re safe now.” You were still in shock from the whole ordeal, overwhelmed by the mix of emotions—fear from the attack, but also a deep, undeniable relief that Arthur was there with you. In this moment you both forgot your fight, your mixed feelings and both held each other, the intensity of the moment washing over you. You held each other for a few seconds longer before separating. A strange turmoil of emotion took over you as you looked around the room seeing the body of your kidnappers unmoving on the ground. Unable to look at them a second more you diverted your attention back to the group of outlaws in front of you.
The first who broke the silence that fell around you was Bill, awkwardly clearing his throat before adding “We need to get movin’ all this gunfight definitely caught someone’s attention”
Arthur offered his hand to you and you took it, using it as leverage to get yourself up to your feet. Your vision spotting for a second before coming back. You didn’t find in your heart to let go of his hand, his warm skin offering you peace. They escorted you out towards the horses. Arthur helping you up on his before sitting behind you, his strong arms holding you tightly to his chest giving you support. The last thing you felt was Arthur chaste kiss on your temple before you let yourself fall asleep.
––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––
The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm orange glow over the camp as the day slowly faded into night. The air was cool, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the trees surrounding your tent. Inside the tent, the air was still, heavy with unspoken words and lingering tension.
You were finally out of the cot after three days of recovery. The girls had come to check up on you in the morning, bringing you a mug of coffee and a pack of chocolate biscuits Mary Beth had managed to steal from the general store. The pain had dulled, your wounds were slowly healing, but the ache in your heart was still fresh, raw from everything that had happened. Arthur had barely left your side the entire time, his presence a constant, quiet comfort, but the words exchanged between you could count on your fingers. The silence between you two was loaded, filled with everything unsaid, with everything that had been tearing at you long before the kidnapping.
The both of you were now in your shared tent, you sat on the edge of the bed absently tracing the edge of an empty tin cup of peaches with your fingers. The room felt suffocating, but you knew you couldn’t keep avoiding this conversation any longer. The memory of those letters, the sight of Arthur and Mary together in Rhodes, his lies. it all still stung, a wound that hadn’t yet healed.
Arthur was seated on the small chair at the foot of the bed, his head hung low, hands toying with the rope that wrapped around his worn hat, face brim as if bracing himself for what was to come. He had watched over you, cared for you, over the past three days but there was a palpable distance between you two now that neither of you could ignore. You could see the lines of worry etched into his face, the guilt that had been gnawing at him for days.
Finally, you broke the silence. Your voice barely above a whisper “Arthur, we need to talk.”
He looked up at you, his aqua eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and something else, something that made your heart ache more at his sight. “I know,” he replied quietly, his voice rough and tired from the last couple sleepless nights. “I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout what happened, before all this mess.”
You took a deep breath, gathering the strength you needed to confront him, to confront the hurt that had been tearing at your heart. “You lied to me, Arthur. About the letters, about Mary. About everything.”
He winced at your words, the truth of them hitting him hard. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “I thought—I thought if I didn’t tell you, it would hurt less. That it wouldn’t matter, ‘cause it was supposed to be nothin’. But it was a mistake. I should’ve been honest with you from the start.”
Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, the pain of those memories sharp like the ghost of the tip of the Lemoyne Raider’s knife on your neck. “I saw you two together, Arthur. In Rhodes. You both looked so happy. It felt like, like my worst fears were coming true. Like I was losing you.”
Arthur stood up slowly, taking a tentative step in front of you. His hand reached out, but he stopped mid air, hesitating as if he wasn’t sure if he had the right to touch you. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” he repeated, his voice thick with emotion. “Mary, she just needed help after the passing of her husband. She didn’t have anyone else to turn to and I didn’t have the guts to shut her down. So I helped her. I didn’t want to drag you into it ‘cause I didn’t want you to worry.”
You looked up at him, searching his face for the truth. “But you lied, Arthur. And that hurt more than anything.”
He nodded, his expression pained. “I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to make things worse between us. But I can see now that I did that anyway by not bein’ honest.” A tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away, trying to keep your composure. “I love you, Arthur. But I can’t live like this, I can’t live wondering if there’s something you’re not telling me, if there’s a part of you that’s still with her.”
Arthur’s face scrunched with regret. “There ain’t. I swear to you, there ain’t. She’s from another life, a life I walked away from a long time ago. Jt’s you I love darlin’. It’s always been you.”
You looked down at the tin cup in your hands the juice residue sloshing as you toyed with the cup, your fingers trembling with the heavy weight of your next decision. “I don’t know if I can just forget what happened Arthur, it hurt too much.”
He stepped closer, this time his hand gently cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “I don’t expect you to forget. All I’m askin’ you is to try. Try give us another chance. I’ll do better, I swear it. I’ll be honest with you, about everything. No more secrets.”
His touch was warm as his thumb stroked your cheek, comforting you and despite the hurt, you couldn’t deny that bright flame of love that still burned inside of you for him. You met his eyes, seeing the sincerity, the sheer desperation in them. He made a stupid mistake of thinking for you, but he was now acknowledging his mistake, he was willing to try and be a better man for you, a man you could see your future into.
You let your tears fall freely now as you nodded, your voice barely a whisper. “I want to try, Arthur. I want to believe in you, in us again.”
He kneeled down to your height and held you into his arms, holding you close as you cried against his chest, the tension of the past days finally breaking down. His hand gently stroked your hair, his voice a low murmur of comfort in your ear.
“We’ll make it work, I promise. We’ll get through this.”
#.rira’s posting ౨ৎ ⋆#arthur morgan x reader#arthur morgan x female reader#arthur morgan x you#arthur morgan fic#arthur morgan#red dead redemption 2#rdr2#red dead fandom#red dead fanfiction
358 notes
·
View notes
Note
paul atreides x bene gesserit reader? 👀 pretty please
slight manipulation?; bene gesserit reader; &. PAUL ATREIDES MDNI 18+
"have you mastered it yet?"
you know what the atreides son is speaking of. the voice, one of the most difficult parts of the bene gesserit training. for a second, you wonder how he knows of the technique. and then you remember his mother, a woman the reverend mother has spoken highly of during your training sessions, despite her defiance.
your eyes watch you and paul's hands as you go to speak. they hang in suspended air off to the side of you both, fingertips touching lightly as paul leads your hands up, down, and to either side. he's creating a box, you realize. it's a soothing and mesmerizing dance.
"no. not yet."
paul hums. his free hand moves from behind your back to your waist.
"it's difficult." it's not a question, he speaks from experience. your eyebrows furrow. you have the urge to ask him how exactly he knows. you want to know if he is being trained in the ways of the bene gesserit, something a man has never been privy to.
but so much else is already sacred in this space. in the dead of night, in your guest quarters, a space that you should not be sharing with the only son of your host for the next week. but it was only natural that you and paul found each other. there was a pull drawing you towards him since you got off the ship. the order of events surely would have driven you two together in an intimate space sooner or later.
"it is," you agree after a moment.
paul shuffles just a bit closer to you. the bend in your elbow increases as your bodies get closer. paul's hand flexes as he bunches the dark fabric of your nightgown in his hands, pulling you just a hair closer. you shouldn't be this close to him. you've never been this close to a man before.
the energy is electrifying.
it buzzes through the air, pulsating between you both to the beat of your heart. you try to call on your learnings. you try to calm your heart in the most simple human ways, the ways your mother taught you before the reverend mother did.
paul licks his lips before he responds again. he takes a moment, he breathes, and you pull your eyes away from your hands to look at paul. the glowglobe hovering just behind you illuminates his face perfectly. it casts shadows where his curls lay over his forehead, it deepens the impressive hollow of his cheekbones. you can see how long his eyelashes are, and how colorful his eyes are. you're hyper-aware of the moles dotting his face, and the scar he has in his cheek.
you're even closer than you thought, but you like it.
"i found that ... pleasure can help you."
your eyebrows shoot up towards your hairline before they fall back to their resting place and push together instead.
"pleasure?"
paul nods.
"how do you mean, my lord?"
his lips quirk up at the honorific and you suddenly feel silly for using it. paul doesn't mention it, though.
"when i'm alone in my room at night, in my own company—" the image enters your brain before you can fight it. paul on his back, his hand below his waist, his eyes heavy lidded and his breath even heavier. you swallow and clear your throat.
"it's like i can feel it wanting to come out of me. and the mornings after, when my mother makes me use it, it's easier."
you don't know how much truth exists in his words, and his suggestion, even if it has yet to be blantantly placed in front of you, is dangerous. it's stupid and risky. and yet, you find yourself drawn to it. that same pull that brought you to paul is bringing you to wanting him to lay out his invitation.
he does soon after.
"do you want to try it?"
you do. you really, really do.
"how would we do it?"
paul pulls you even closer to him and now your chests are touching. he's fighting back a smile, it's obvious in the way the skin around his lips dimples for a second before returning to neutrality. when he speaks, it's harder for him to hide it.
"i don't have to touch you if you don't want me to."
"i want you to." the admission slips from your mouth so quickly and so easily. it's a little embarrassing. your skin warms.
paul takes a moment. he stares at you, eyes flickering back and forth between yours. "okay," he finally says. his smile takes over the lower half of his face. "then i can touch you, and you have to focus, okay?"
you nod.
paul slinks his hand up your back, over your shoulder, and cups your cheek. he intertwines your fingers, your hands still suspended in the air, and he moves just a bit closer until his lips finally lay onto yours.
#&. paul atreides#paul atreides x reader#paul atreides smut#paul atreides x you#timothee chalamet x reader#&. chats
239 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey I was wondering if you still take requests for lee from bones and all. If you do can you do one where reader is a non eater but travels with Lee and Maren (maybe they're in a relationship with Lee Maren as well if you're comfortable) and when they meet brad and jake , Jake says something ( maybe insinuating that he wants to eat her) and they get protective especially lee. If you don't want to write or don't feel comfortable it's ok. Thank you! Have a good day/night!
FOUNDERS’ BLUES
[Lee x Reader oneshot] 623 words
Tags: No y/n, non-eater Reader, lee being protective, no Maren (sorry bae ily)
Warnings: Bones and all typical shit. Mentions of abuse and parental addiction.
A/n: I made this a song fic and idk how I feel about it. Anyway song if from a deleted scene with those mf hillbillies. Enjoy <3
———
———
Beat and bloody, walking along the steaming asphalt of the highway in the peak of summer. Your feet were walked bare and you could feel your pulse behind every cut and bruise.
That was when Lee found you; “all bloody and beautiful.” You had taken enough beatings from your addict parents and when they brought you close to death, you knew it was either that or life on the road.
He took you to a nearby diner to fill your stomach before he started pressing you with questions. You couldn’t hold it in, you told him everything.
He had gotten you a motel for a few nights so you could recover. At first you thought his actions were due to his sincere concern, but when he had snuck into the motel room he booked for you covered in blood; you soon learnt the truth.
I run the roads 'cause I know best.
Leave the highway for to get my rest.
Sleeping o'er the meeting house and dream of who tastes best.
Your parents were declared missing by none other than their drug dealer a few days later. Lee thought you would have hated him, he had only snuck in to take advantage of the shower, but when he said,
“They’re gone.” you just hugged him.
I come to town and I know best.
I greet the day on my two legs.
More months than you could count on your hands had passed and you and Lee had gotten extremely close; physically, emotionally, on every level.
Slide my arms inside these red and grey tails.
Push the window open, find the reverend up and dressed.
I fear the Lord, but I know best.
You and him had ran into another duo, two hillbillies in the woods; Brad, the eater, and Jake, a wanna-be eater. What a gruesome pair.
I clean the floor and stay a day.
Slip in your room, lay my hands on your frame Daughter come and die for me, protesting less and less.
Close your eyes, I'll do the rest.
“You’ve got a sweet one there, dontcha’ Lee?” Brad’s cadence on sweet made chills run down your spine. You, as calmly as you could, gave Lee’s arm a squeeze and he gave you a knowing look.
Midnight comes and it's the best.
Stare the stars at me, the moon to ingest,
“What do you mean by that man?” Lee barked.
“Oh come on, don’t tell me you’ve never thought of it!” Lee sat up and scooted a little in front of you, ready to jump at the creep at any second.
“You are crossing a line man” Lee threatened.
The smile he had on his face when he noticed was sickening, you wondered if he was always this off-putting.
You leaned in and asked Lee if it was time to go and he gave you a subtle nod.
Leave the untold buried in a sack where no one guessed,
and take the ride that runs the best.
You got up and quickly walked to the car until you heard Lee yell, “RUN!”
Your head snapped back and you saw Lee running right behind you, the hillbillies on his tail.
You threw open the truck door and slid to the driver's seat, leaving the door open for Lee.
“KEYS!” You yelled, Lee was one step ahead of you and threw the keys in the bay of the truck.
As you threw your arm down to grab them, Lee jumped in the truck and you started it. You drove off and watched the two men run behind the truck.
I'll take the ride that runs the best
I'll take the ride that runs the best
I take the ride that runs the best.
#lee bones and all x you#lee bones and all x reader#lee x reader#& lee#bones and all x reader#bones and all fanfic#bones & all#bones and all#timothee chalamalabingbong#timothee chalamet x you#timothee x reader#lil timmy tim#timothee chalamet x reader#timothee chamalet#timothée chalamet#t
118 notes
·
View notes
Note
I truly dislike this phenomena, let's call it that, of changing a character from their book version and causing this domino effect that affects every other character and the plot in general.
Which is what I feel has happened to Chani in Dune Part 2. Her refusal to play along with Paul and Jessica's plot and her general indifference throughout, makes it so hard for me to foresee a situation in the future where she willingly reunites with her man and her mother-in-law.
I sure hope Denis Villeneuve knows what he's doing, because this change could create major complications in Dune Part 3.
But what do you think? And what scenarios do you have in mind for Chani to return to Paul? Do you also think this change could cause Irulan's book character to be different in the movie? 😬😬
It's hard to say, because, Chani is WA-AY different in the books and the ending is completely different and shatters a lot of future story beats in the books. They left a lot out about her character that makes her unique in order to serve the skeptic.
Chani, in the book, was a Sayyadina, a very senior Sayyadina. She was the under study for the Reverend Mother and would most likely be the next Reverend Mother of the Fremen if Jessica hadn't come along.
Chani is also the daughter of Dr. Kynes - Liet - who was basically the defacto leader of the Fremen at the time. So Chani was basically the Princess of the Fremen despite only being half Fremen. And thus her being a bit of an outcast among the native Fremen is why she and Paul bonded.
So being a Sayyadina and the daughter of Liet made her dyed in the wool believer of the Mahdi. If no other purpose than sharing her father's dream of returning Arrakis to a lush paradise.
Turning Chani into a fierce skeptic and basically taking from her all her deeply feminine and lovingly caring nature robbed her of a lot of interesting and unique character traits that she has in the book. They could've chosen anyone else to be a skeptic. Jessica, in the book, was the biggest skeptic and knew it was all bullshit. The problem was that Jessica wanted to protect her children. Also, in the book, which isn't addressed in the movie, is that Jessica is Paul's property.
Lady Jessica was purchased from the Bene Gesserit school by Leto's father for Leto when they were teenagers. From the day that the Old Duke bought Jessica for Leto, Jessica became property of the Ducal Household. Yes, she is Paul's mother. But, legally, Jessica is Paul's property after Leto's death. That's a big part of the book and why Jessica defers to Paul and allows Paul to dictate a lot of the things that are happening in "Dune" once the House of Atreides falls. Jessica is the bound concubine for life to the Duke of House Atreides - no matter who he is.
So, technically, from a legal standpoint, Jessica is actually Paul's concubine, which is classic Bene Gesserit (Spoiler Alert: Bene Gesserit sisters will marry and breed with their own sons if ordered to preserve or strengthen traits in House bloodlines.)
They could've made Jessica the skeptic - like she was in the book, give Chani Stilgar's devoted belief in the Mahdi, and show Stilgar being skeptical at first and then be turned into a fanatic by the end.
Also, Chani and Jessica don't like one another in the books either, never have and never will. She disliked Jessica all the way back when she thought Jessica was Paul's woman and she didn't stop disliking her once she found out that Jessica was his mom.
My theory is that the visions that Paul sees in the first movie of Chani trying to kill him is going to happen in Part 3. Irulan already has a large part in "Dune Messiah" of basically trying to get Paul to get her pregnant so that the Bene Gesserit can regain control of the Atries blood line ... also because Irulan is in love with Paul. A lot of things that happen in "Messiah" go through Irulan, and whether Chani has the same role or not, it won't effect Irulan's core story motivation, which is baring a Royal Heir and stopping at nothing to do it.
But right now, I don't see a path that they get to Leto II and Ghanima from where they ended.
For now, here is the best and GOATed adaption of "Dune Messiah" with the best and most fleshed out characterization of Princess Irulan and Alia ever put to screen.
youtube
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
Chapter One: Visitation
Prologue
Summary: You catch the eyes of three ghastly figures. If only you knew before it was too late.
Warnings: 18+, creepy behavior. Dark series with parts that will include rape/noncon as well as other explicit and violent triggers. Heavy religious themes. All parts will be tagged accordingly. Minors DNI.
Word Count: 981
“What came first, preacher? The sinner or their sin?”
“How long do you think you’ll be out there?”
Erica’s voice came out through hissed static in the receiver. You hoped the horrible reception was connected to the rain and constant overcast sky but, given the state of the rest of the town, you doubted there would be much improvement on a clear day.
“I’ve got about two months of vacation saved up, but I don’t think I could be in this place longer than a couple weeks.”
“Oh, it can’t be that bad.”
“The deadbolt doesn't even work. It's stuck or something. So I'm screwed if some killer rolls through town. And the roads here aren't even roads, it’s all dirt and gravel. What's worse is that the closest Starbucks is forty minutes out of town.”
“Oh yeah,” she laughed, “a place without a Starbucks is a far bigger crime than you not having a lock on your door. Heaven forbid you have to get a coffee anywhere else or, you know, make it yourself.”
You snorted, leaning against the old fridge. “I prefer to overpay for my bean water, thanks.”
“Yeah, well, then you better get started on the house, huh? Unless you want to spend an arm and leg on gas for that piece of junk.”
“It’s not that bad —”
You cut off as you looked out the window to the beat up thing, surprised to find it wasn’t the last car on the gravel driveway. A decades old police car—older than even Grandpa's truck—with a singular red light stuck to the top sat behind it. A man wearing an equally outdated hat and a shirt tucked under his overhanging stomach was making his way up the gravel driveway towards the house. Was the town really that strapped for cash? As if he could feel your stare, his attention turned to the window. A smile pulled onto his face as he waved.
Erica’s annoyed “Hello?” brought you back to the phone you were clutching. Averting your eyes, you shifted out of the sight of the window.
“Sorry, I think I’m gonna have to call you back. Some cop showed up.”
Her annoyance vanished as she asked, “Do you want me to stay on the phone?”
“No…no,” you said, despite the tightness crawling up your throat. Memories of one too many bad interactions with a cop stirring in your mind. “He seems…friendly.”
“I'm sure he’s a very friendly backwoods cop,” she said with a disbelieving snort. “Call me back when he’s gone, alright?”
“Yeah, I will,” you agreed, hearing the wooden steps creak outside. Ending the call after a quick goodbye, you waited until you heard two knocks echoing against the front door.
The cop was handsome. Older and overweight, sure, but undeniably handsome. His eyes must have been the cause of the overcast sky, the cerulean stolen by irises far too enchanting to belong to some small town cop. “Sorry to bother you, ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat. “The Reverend mentioned you got into town yesterday and I wanted to come by and pay my condolences.”
Reverend John hadn't mentioned anything about that to you. “Oh, thank you, um?”
“Sheriff Bodecker.” He held out his hand, one you were surprised to find freezing cold. “But a pretty thing like you can call me Lee.”
"Right, thank you, Lee."
"Your grandfather was a good man. Never caused no trouble, kept to himself." His playful smirk felt at odds with a man paying his respects for the departed. "Real shame he was all alone when it happened."
You pulled your hand back from his, his handshake far too long and words far too harsh for his honeyed voice. "We'd been trying to get him to go to a nursing home closer to us," you rush out defensively. You had been trying to convince him. No one else in the family seemed to care that Grandpa had been getting to the age where he had trouble taking care of himself. By the state of the house, it had gotten worse since Dad had been around the year before. Or, more likely, Dad hadn't wanted to spend the money to get him the help he needed and downplayed how bad it was.
"Those old folks' homes are so impersonal. Like living at the hospital.” He adjusted his belt, eyeing you up in a way that made you pull your cardigan closed. “Though if the nurses were as pretty as you, suppose it wouldn’t be so bad.”
“Right…” The interaction had taken a nosedive. Why were men such men? “Well, thanks for, um, stopping by. Appreciate it. But I’ve really gotta start getting this place sorted. There's a lot of stuff to do to go through."
He licked his lips. “You know if you need another pair of hands, I'm more than happy to help. A girl like you shouldn't have to do any heavy lifting.”
The cold fast food that had served as a poor replacement of breakfast bubbled unhappily in your stomach. Handsome as he may be, something felt off. Not quite right. “I'll keep that in mind,” you lied, grabbing the edge of the door, “but I’m just going through things for now.”
“Well, if you need anything at all, you can always give the Reverend a call. He'll get back to me faster than any dispatch I've seen..”
“Of course." The door already half-way shut before you called out, "Have a good day, sheriff.”
“You too ma’am,” he said, stepping back and tipping his hat again. "I look forward to seeing you again."
You stood at the door unmoving as you listened to his slow, retreating footsteps that crunched through the gravel. You waited for some sound of a creaking metal door. To hear an old engine roar to life. Tires against the rocks. Minutes passed and nothing.
But when you peaked through the window, he was gone.
Dark!All Taglist: @bamboozledflamplant @my-current-fandom-is @squishytomatoes @theresa-b
#arvin russel x reader#lee bodecker x reader#preston teagardin x reader#robert pattinson x reader#sebastian stan x reader#tom holland x reader#the devil all the time fanfiction
245 notes
·
View notes
Text
Reverend Beat-Man @ Barbière Bern
View On WordPress
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
The MONSTERS live in Rorschach: 5.May w/ the Devils
Du Hesch Cläss, Ig Bi Träsch!
THE MONSTERS "Du Hesch Cläss, Ig Bi Träsch" LP by The Monsters
#theswissmonsters#the monsters#voodoorhythmrecords#slovenly recordings#slovenlyrecordings#Reverend Beat-Man
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
"man you got something to say about some exodus story? Man you got something to say like yr talking for me? i need the beat back to drown out the chit chat I need it real bad or my eyes roll too back man you got something to say about little Ralphie not getting into Heaven? Man you got something to say just because yr the Reverend? picking up strips of my skin off the pavement…"
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
REVEREND BEAT-MAN LIVE:
31.07.24 - CH - Luzern, Schüür
26.08.24 - FR - Saint-Jean-de-Védas, Secret Place
30.08.24 - ESP - Madrid, Fun House
31.08.24 - ESP - Granada, Hogaza Fest
01.09.24 - ESP - Barcelona, Meteoro
03.09.24 - FR - Marseille, Le Molotov
05.09.24 - FR - Nantes, Cold Crush
06.09.24 - FR - Paris, Supersonic Records
07.09.24 - BE - Tournai, Redrum Bar
08.09.24 - NL - Nijmegen, Brebl
10.09.24 - DE - Dortmund, Subrosa
11.09.24 - DE - Kassel, Goldgrube
12.09.24 - DE - Dresden, Chemiefabrik
13.09.24 - PL - Warschau, Hydrozagadki
15.09.24 - RO - Craiova, Blizzz
16.09.24 - RO - Bucharest, Control Club
17.09.24 - BG - Sofia, Singles
18.09.24 - SRB - Belgrad, Elektropionir
19.09.24 - HR - Zagreb, Vintage Industrial Bar
20.09.24 - SVN - Ilirska Bistrica, Mknž
21.09.24 - IT - San Zenone degli Ezzelini, Villa Albrizzi Marini
22.09.24 - IT - Luzzara, River Vintage Club
24.09.24 - IT - Savignano sul Rubicone, Sidro Club
25.09.24 - IT - Piediripa, Circolo Dong
26.09.24 - IT - Siena, Bottega Roots
27.09.24 - IT - Bologna, FreakOut
28.09.24 - IT - Como, Joshua Blues Club
thanks pøj pøj for seting up and A Wamba Buluba Club for the spain shows and Corner SoulEvents for italy and many many more to make all this possible
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Out Of This World (an incomplete playlist (updated to appear in standardized artist - song title format))
Beastie Boys - Intergalactic
Galactic - I Got It (What You Need)
Reverend Horton Heat - Galaxy 500
Rocket Man - Elton John (via @sagenemesis )
David Bowie - Space Oddity (via @sagenemesis )
Train - Drops of Jupiter (via @anais-ninja-bitch)
The Seatbelts - Cats On Mars (via @anais-ninja-bitch )
Katy Perry - ET (via @aeoliantectrix )
Jefferson Starship - We Built This City
Nikki Minaj - Starships (via @aeoliantectrix )
BTS - 134340 (via @aeoliantectrix )
BTS and Coldplay - My Universe(via @aeoliantectrix )
Two Steps From Hell - Star Sky(via @aeoliantectrix )
Celtic Woman - A Spaceman Came Travelling -(via @aeoliantectrix )
Duran Duran - New Moon On Monday (via @avishabilis )
IAM - Planète Mars (via @avishabilis )
Gustav Holst Planets Suite (via @avishabilis )
Def Leppard - Rocket (via @ejullz )
Frank Sinatra - Fly Me To The Moon (via @adamtheredbeard)
David Bowie - Starman (via @adamtheredbeard)
The Byrds - Mr. Spaceman (via @adamtheredbeard)
Black Sabbath - Planet Caravan (via @justanotherdharmabum )
REM - Man on the Moon (via @typhoidmeri )
Soundgarden - Black Hole Sun (via @typhoidmeri )
Florence and the Machine - Cosmic Love (via @typhoidmeri )
[product] - call to the moon (item this through item 45 via @sapphicshart )
808 state - europa
angels on acid - satellite
deine lakaien - dark star
helalyn flowers - sitting on the moon
in strict confidence - alpha centauri
the b-52s - planet claire
lead into gold - faster than light
mc 900ft jesus - ufos are real
meat beat manifesto - mars needs women
psy'aviah - black hole
red mecca - enter stellar
renegade soundwave - space gladiator
revolting cocks - attack ships on fire
S.P.O.C.K - queen of space
smp - earthlight
technoir - dying star
dead milkmen - rocket ship
mask of sanity - living black hole
omega core - eons away they looked to the stars (item 26 through item this via @sapphicshart )
Muse - Supermassive black hole (via @anonymoussmurf )
Amaranthe - 1,000,000 Lightyears (via @the0dd0ne )
Rise Against - Satellite (via @the0dd0ne )
Savage Garden - To the Moon and Back (via @the0dd0ne )
Lazerhawk - Visitors (via @otatma)
Dua Lipa - Levitating (via @furiosasgarden )
???
58 notes
·
View notes
Note
I’m not too well versed in the comics history, Has there been clear progress made for mutant rights and acceptance in the marvel universe? Like , between the big events and Orchises of the marvel (and real world) setting things back, is there a big difference with how mutants are treated de facto and dejure across the decades since the 60s? Any particular mutant rights milestones?
Great question!
People's History of the Marvel Universe, Week 22: Anti-Mutant Prejudice and Mutant Rights In the Longue Durée
This is a difficult question to answer, because Chris Claremont was very much of the "torture your darlings" school of comics writing, believing that the way to wring endless drama out of your characters was to keep piling tragedy on tragedy on top of them before finally giving them a moment of catharsis. This was especially true for how he handled the mutant metaphor from as far back as X-Men #99, where even when the X-Men saved the day, it would only seem to further fan the flames of anti-mutant prejudice.
That being said, Claremont didn't present an unchanging portrait of anti-mutant prejudice constantly getting worse and worse - after all, the very beating heart of dramatic structure is variation, without which even the most grimdark tragedy becomes numbing and monotonous. So there are definitely key moments in the Claremont run where the X-Men are able to score a victory for mutantkind.
Perhaps the first and most famous instance of the mutants notching a win comes in the climax of God Loves, Man Kills - Claremont's first great Statement Comic about bigotry. After having foiled the Reverend Stryker's plans to exterminate mutantkind by kidnapping Charles Xavier and using a Cerebro-like device to project lethal strokes into mutant brains across the world, the X-Men confront Stryker on live T.V - again, part of Chris Claremont's endless fascination with the power of media to shape our minds that would recur in Fall of the Mutants - fighting him on the level of ideology and rhetoric. Kitty Pryde is able to bait Stryker into attempted murder in front of the television cameras, ending his crusade of hate:
(I'll do a full in-depth analysis of God Loves, Man Kills and how it both codifies and reveals Chris Claremont's approach to the mutant metaphor in a future issue of PHOMU.)
The next big moment of victory I've already written about in PHOMU Week 20, was Fall of the Mutants. In this storyline, the X-Men face off against Freedom Force and the Registration Act and ultimately sacrifice their lives to save the world in Dallas - once again, using the power of rhetoric and media to strike back against discrimination and oppression.
After that, Claremont's next (and arguably last) big victory for mutant rights came in the "Genoshan Saga." (I'll also be doing an in-depth analysis of Genosha in a future issue of PHOMU.) Beginning in UXM #235 and winding its way through Inferno and the X-Tinction Agenda, the fictional nation of Genosha was Chris Claremont's big Statement about apartheid South Africa. An island nation off the east coast of Africa, Genosha seems to be a utopia free of poverty, crime, and disease - but its entire society rests on a foundation of mutant slavery, where mutants are press-ganged, mind-controlled, and genetically-manipulated to serve the human ruling class.
After a series of clashes between the X-Men and the Genoshan Magistrates, the X-Men defeat Genosha's anti-mutant military and their cyborg ally Cameron Hodge. But whereas most superhero comics end with the heroes foiling the evil plan of the supervillain and restoring the status quo, this time Chris Claremont and Louise Simonson went a step beyond the norm and had the X-Men carry out a political revolution that brings lasting structural change - toppling the Genoshan government and abolishing apartheid.
Under the pen of later writers like Joe Pruett, Fabien Nicieza, and (most enduringly) Grant Morrison, the island of Genosha would be refashioned as a mutant homeland, a prosperous and advanced nation of sixteen million mutants ruled by Magneto. (Yet again, a topic for another issue of PHOMU.) Arguably ever since then, the story of the X-Men has been the story of the struggle to restore mutantkind to the position it was in before Cassandra Nova ended the first mutant nation-state, culminating in HOXPOX and the foundation of Krakoa. (A topic we'll be covering next year when FOTHOX/ROTPOX writes the final chapter in the Krakoan Era.)
#xmen#xmen meta#people's history of the marvel universe#the mutant metaphor#chris claremont#the claremont run#grant morrison#brian michael bendis#jonathan hickman#louise simonson
23 notes
·
View notes