#lobo was dragged to the party

[allthenamesithinkofaretaken]

There Was an Attempt:

Forever After AU

TW// Violence, cursing, also google translated Spanish

[A universe where the MC lets the immortality get to her head and turns into a cruel, self-absorbed, arrogant ass. So MC is a big asshole here, I’m sorry. I also like to believe that this is the version in the universe where Shrek wasn’t born (Shrek: Forever After). How does that affect MC’s life if she’s never met Shrek in the first place? I have no idea. But I had fun, so I hope you do too.]

(Alternate title: MC pulls a Jack Horner)

Santa de las estrellas.

La eterna.

La joven.

He’s heard many people call her many names, lift their arms up to praise her as if she were a god. It filled him with unbridled rage the more he heard about her, his claws itching to get ahold of her soul and drag her down where she belonged. It had to be a fluke, her immortality. A scam that’s waiting to be publicized, and swore to the men and women and children she scammed that he’d be the one to show her lies, and once he does, he’ll let her ‘followers’ finish the job for him. He wasn’t Justice, of course not. But there was still satisfaction in wiping the arrogance off those that are filled with it.

The town she was living in was plastered with many posters and graffiti of her symbol, a symbol that was meant to give hope and show people that all she needed was their loyalty and they too, shall live for as long as she has. People were bowing to their foreheads to a false deity that feeds off their hope and their gold, throwing it into boxes in churches that were reformed just to show their love and loyalty towards her in hopes that they wouldn’t have had to face their demise.

Death was a frightening thing, he understood that, he was frightening and oftentimes quick to collect those far too early. But what he is is also necessary. The one thing that made life good enough to live was how sudden it was. It made people understand that with what little time they have, they have to make the most of it.

But this la eterna takes the meaning of life away from peoples hands, taking their gold and telling them that she’ll make them eternal, too. Feeding them with false hopes and false words that turned this once happy town into what it is now. Silent. Compliant. People littered the streets begging for food because they valued their gifts to her more than their own basic needs.

He sighed as an old woman cradling her child lifted a shaking cup up to him. Fishing a coin out of his pocket, he kneels down to her height, handing it to her and looking down at her shivering daughter. “Don’t give it to la eterna, she does not have your needs in mind but her own.”

“She gives us strength,” the mother shut her eyes as if in a silent prayer, and he could feel the anger in him burning even more. Not at this woman, of course, he could never truly hate mortals for their fear of him. He understood why they did, but he would be lying if he said it never hurt him more than once. “Death is frightening.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” He replies with a sigh. “It’s necessary.”

“I lost my youngest son,” She hissed, glaring into his eyes as she clutched her child closer to her. “Tell me, lobo, when is losing a child ever necessary?”

He couldn’t answer that. So instead he gave a stiff nod, pushing himself back to his feet. The woman’s words echoed in his mind, and filled his stomach with a sense of dread as he goes on to walk his previous path. It wasn’t him who had the say on who died and who lived, especially the time and how they will meet their demise, no, that was The Fates’ job, he was simply there to deliver their souls to the underworld.

Soon finding himself in front of the doors of la eterna’s mansion, he could hear the sound of celebration muffled from the outside world. He could hear laughter and squealing as well as music coming from the inside as his paws find their way into the hilt of his sickles. It wasn’t the first time he would crash a party, he’d collected a lot of important people during important events. Most of the time they didn’t deserve such a public death, but oftentimes, it couldn’t be helped. He never found joy in any of those times, but this one? Oh, he’ll enjoy this one dearly.

He pushed open the doors, the cool wind entering the room and blowing all the lit flames of the candles that hung upon golden candelabras, the music and laughter coming to a halt as darkness swallowed the room. His eyes flitted to the snobby and feared looks that came from la eterna’s circus of dukes and duchesses, then finally landed on the one that sat in the middle of it all, at the far end of the room in a beautifully handcrafted throne.

She sat there with barely a smidge of amusement in her expression, draped and wearing the finest of silks he’s only ever seen be written about in stories of some of the mortal’s gods and goddesses.

“Santa de las estrellas,” He takes a step inside the room, the crowd immediately parting as he walks, not liking the way his scarlet eyes glossed over them with disgust and anger they didn’t want to get in the way of. “La eterna,” His voice boomed over the silent hush of the room, and the more he took a closer step, the more he could see how unbothered she truly was. “La joven.”

“Nacido del río de la vida,” He continues, having the chants of the people already engraved in his brain. “Ella ha venido a traer juventud a todos.” His footsteps come to a halt at the bottom of the stairs that lead up to her throne, forcing a smile on his lips as he looks up at her. “I assume that it’s you they’re talking about?”

She only hummed, but as her eyes met his own, a smirk tugged up at her lips. “I would hope so,” she grinned. “I might get jealous with whomever gets your attention.” She tries to cup his cheek, but before her fingers could even dare graze his fur, a cry of pain escapes her lips, a gasp washing over the crowd as the sound of his sickles scraping against one another cut through the silence louder than her cry, and he could hear the people behind him begin to panic. He waited for the sound of blood to drip to the floor, and its sound would be the most satisfying thing he would ever hear, except he was only met with the sounds of her angered breaths as she glared up at him, eyes burning with a searing hate as she cradled her shaking hand close to her chest.

What in the—?

Her guards were on his side in less than a second, their swords pointed to his neck and yet always faltering when they dared try to step closer to him, the glint of his sickles underneath the morning light that shone above her throne more than enough to scare them off.

“What is wrong with you?!” She shrieked, shaking the hand that he had tried to slice and catching no more than a glimpse of a bruise where his blade had met her skin. “Do you have any idea how long that takes to heal?!”

Her angered voice cracked through the silence much louder than before, and it caused the people behind him and the guards beside them a lot more than discomfort but also fear. He couldn’t help but clench his hands tighter against the handles of his sickles in realization. She had everything wrapped around her finger. Their desires, their hopes, their dreams, and especially their fear. A simple sound of anger and displeasure from their saint then that would mean she’d take away all the life she had given them.

He didn’t speak, but only glared as she scowled, her lips pulled back as she turned to one of the servants, who had immediately bowed to his knees and produced a fine longsword from his back, offering it up to her with his head bowed and arms raised.

“You want to fight me?” He laughed as she took the hilt in her hand, easily twirling the blade as the people began to dissipate from the center of the room, walking up to highground where they would be able to spectate the upcoming fight much clearer.

“You raise a blade to me and think I’ll let you walk freely?” She scoffed, testing the sharpness of her blade with a finger running along its edge. He expected no blood to drip, just like what happened before, but to his surprise, dark red began to pour on the sides of the blade, and the people that watched above began to jitter, their hushed voices causing a stir. Even the guards beside him looked at the dripping blood with worry, and he wondered what the fuss was about.

She places her bleeding fingertip inside her mouth with a satisfied hum, removing it with a pop and the wound was gone with not a trace left of it being there in the first place, save for the blood that ran down her finger and to her palm.

He found himself taking a cautious step back as she took one step forward.

She notices his confusion, grinning from ear to ear in amusement. “What’s the matter? Did you really think that I’m not as real as I make myself out to be?” She swung the sword in circles on her side, a laugh escaping her. “I may be an asshole, but I’m not a monster, you know.”

“You steal from the poor and let them starve while you party in your mansion, living a careless life while theirs waste away,” He growled, and the sound causes the guards to lift their swords higher to his neck, and she simply waves them away with a huff, rolling her eyes.

“Go away, I’ll handle this.” She ordered.

“But—”

“I said go!” Her screech would’ve hurt his ears, the two guards flinching and then running away. She scoffed, turning her attention back to him with a sickly sweet smile.

“You’re sweet, really,” she placed a hand to her chest, “I’ve never seen anyone care so much about those people outside. Except for me, of course. But I’m not stealing from them.” She walks past him, and he turns to watch her steps, heels clicking against the floor. “I’m only giving them what they want. They pay me to give them hope, to give them more time. I wouldn’t call that stealing now, would you?”

He clutched his sickles and then swung, a gasp echoing over the crowd that he had forgotten was looking at them from above. But she had simply used her hand to grab at his blade, a look of pain crossing her face as she did so, but no wound opened up in her palm, and no blood dripped.

“Can we really not talk this out over a date?” She grinned, batting her eyelashes at him. “I like you, you… intrigue me.” Her eyes flitted from his own, then downwards as if to check him out, before shifting her gaze back to meet with his glare, her teeth biting down on her bottom lip. “And it’s been so long since I’ve had any fun.”

He scoffed, pulling his blade away from her grasp and then taking another swing. This time, she blocked it with her sword, the sound of metal clashing and sliding across one another echoing as she quickly turned and swung her sword. He jumps back to dodge the swing, swiftly shifting and ducking down to slice at her side, the silk ripping as a pained gasp pushing past her lips, a hand coming to grip her side.

There was no blood. So far the only time he’s ever seen her bleed was with that sword. So if he could take it from her…

He was pulled back from his thoughts at the sound of her heels clicking against the floor. She swung upward once again, and metal echoed in the room as he trapped the blade in between his sickles, her own eyes glaring up at him with hatred that reflected his own.

“You won’t leave this mansion alive,” he hissed, and she laughed, breaking away from him, yellow sparks flying as their blades scratched against the other.

“I’d love to see you try, lobo,” she points the end of her sword at his face, a grin stretching her lips. “And when you fail— I already have a collar ready for you to wear.”

He could feel the anger burn his insides, and he relentlessly swung at her. If she can’t bleed, then fine, he’ll tire her out until she drops her blade.

Swinging at her cheek, she stumbled back a bit, a look of annoyance crossing her face that made his lips tug in a smirk, and when she swung, her palm clashed against the blade, letting the blood drip down the floor. The crowd gasps.

Idiota. He thought. Maybe she was too arrogant for her own good. Maybe this would’ve been easier than he thought it would be, and she’ll die by her own hands.

When he swung, she slid back to dodge, using her injured hand to stop herself and causing a smear of blood to stain the floor underneath. She ran to his side, but before she could get any closer, he swipes at her cheek, and this time he succeeds as an angered grunt escapes her. He swings his leg, and kicks her in the gut, the pain enough to send her stumbling back as she lands to her knees, clutching the sword with its blade pointed downward, her bleeding palm staining the floor yet again.

“Had enough? I thought you had more fight in you than that,” he scoffed, twirling his blade against the other, the sparks shining in his eyes.

She didn’t bother to reply, the pain too much to bear as she pushed herself back up to her feet.

He lunged, and she caught his swipe with her blade, lifting a leg to kick him in the gut but his hand caught her ankle and threw her to the other end of the room. Her back hit the wall with a sickening ‘crack!’ and she drops to the ground, using her injured hand to crawl forward and staining the floor with a sloppy red line.

She stood, knees almost buckling from how badly they shook and yet a grin on her lips that made his own drop and shift into a scowl.

“Still fighting?”

“Oh, believe me, I’m just getting started,” she chuckled, shaking her head to get the dizziness from her brain, she lunged, and he simply shifted to the side, using one foot to trip her, catching herself with her palms as she landed on the floor with a pained ‘oof’. The crowd erupted in hushed laughter, one that brought a bit of victory in him as he grinned down at the pissed off look on her face.

“Your own court is laughing at your poor attempts to fight,” he hummed. She was close to dropping the sword, he could take it now and be over and done with it, but he let himself bask in the victory.

“I don’t think they’re laughing at me.” She grinned, and the smug look on his face dropped, his brows furrowed as he looked up at the people that looked down on them, their looks smug and even amused.

His ears strained to listen to what they were talking about, and he found his stomach dropping in realization.

He turned to eye the smears of blood along the walls and floor.

She didn’t hit her hand against the blade on accident, she was—

The red stains from the floor glowed a bright red, chains quickly erupting from the ground, the crowd’s laughter sounding more and more sinister as the chains wrapped tightly around his arms and legs, pulling him down to his knees as she stood to her feet, a victorious grin on her lips. One chain wrapped around his neck, pulling his head down in an obedient bow.

As she walked towards him, the crowd cheered, and she knelt down to his height. He wanted to hurt her, wanted to wipe that grin off her face but whenever he dared move, a searing burn came down his arms and legs, the tightness of the chains growing that it made it even harder to breathe.

“Had enough? I thought you had more fight in you than that?” She parroted his own words in a sickeningly sweet tone, and her hands cupped his cheek, using the flat of her thumb to wipe his cheek. He growls and snaps his jaws up at her, causing her to back away with a gasp, her satisfied expression falling into an annoyed one.

“Behave,” she hissed. “Or I’ll muzzle you.”

“Let me go,” he growled. “Coño, do you understand what you’ll be doing if you keep me like this?”

“That I’ll be getting a new lapdog?”

The crowd laughed, and he could feel the burning along his neck, legs and wrist as he tried to get out his restraints.

“Such a shame, really,” She sighed, walking away from him as a servant came up and kneels down, presenting to her a wooden box that she opened, taking what was inside that made his ears fall back, his red eyes trying to burn through her with a glare that could send kings and emperors on their knees. “I would have loved to get to know you better.”

She walked towards him and he’d be damned if he’d allow her to collar him. He twisted and turned, not minding the way the chains gripped and burned him, a cry of pain escaping him as the one on his neck grew tight.

“¡cálmate!” She places a hand on his cheek, and his body goes rigid, the tightness of the chains ebbing away. “That’s it,” she hummed, her nails scratching at the side of his cheek as she leaned forward, wrapping the collar in his neck and finally locking it in place. “See? Wasn’t that easy?”

“As I said, I would have loved to get to know you better if you hadn’t come marching in here trying to kill me,” She scoffed, leaning back and cupping his cheek as he could do nothing but glare. “But oh well, I suppose in another universe we could’ve talked this out much better than we did now.” Giving him a peck on the cheek, he flinched.

When she pulled back, he snarled, spitting on her face. The crowd fell in a silent hush, and (Y/n) wiped the spit on her cheek with a scoff, flicking her wrist and scowling at the smug look on the wolf's face.

“Guards!” She called out, standing to her feet as her guards grabbed the ends of the chains into their hands. He tried to wiggle out their grip, but that only resulted in that burning pain yet again and he immediately stopped his attempts to escape. “Take him to the trophy room.”

One guard tugged much harsher than he thought they would, a growl rumbling from his chest as they tried to drag him away.

“You don’t know what forces you’re messing with, bruja!” He growled, making sure to let her hear the hate and anger with every syllable of his words. “When I get out of here I’ll kill you! And I’ll collect your soul like I should’ve done years ago!”

The threat made her freeze in her spot, and the sounds of people piling back as the party resumed from before felt distant as she stared blankly at her golden throne, her fingers curling in her bleeding palm.

“I’ll be looking forward to it, lobo.” She sighed, then turned back to the crowd with a forced grin, and yet, they could care less whether or not she was satisfied or happy. So long as they get what they want from her. Clapping her hand, she pointed to the band. “Now where’s the music? This is supposed to be a party, not a funeral!”

The crowd laughed at the joke, and she simply fell back down on her throne, a servant coming up to serve her another chalice filled with wine, drinking one glass after the other ‘till this day faded on just like the others, until she blacked out drunk and fell to the stone cold floor with nothing but the pain of knowing the eternity that awaits for her the next day.

All he could do as he stood there wrapped in chains was follow the guards that took him to wherever this 'trophy room' was, the anger that bubbled inside of him felt infinite as he mulled over his hatred, his jaw clenching as he glared at the ground, the feel of the collar around his neck only setting that anger in stone.

It didn't take long for the guards to tug him in another direction, a long hallway lined with wooden doors, with golden bars on top engraved with different texts. Sometimes, his ear twitched as the sound of despair and cries echoed from behind each door that they passed, and he wondered what other creatures she had behind them and if he'd ever get to meet any of them soon.

They turned another corner, and finally opened a door from the end of the hallway, pulling him in where his shoulders tensed at the sight of skulls that hung on each wall, their names engraved underneath.

He couldn't read any of them, not from where he stood as the guards latched the ends of his chains on an already prepared lock. Scanning the many skulls that circled the shelves of the room, he spotted creatures that varied species, and he even spotted a few human skulls that littered the collection, underneath their skulls were weapons of some sort, whether it be a dagger, a bow and arrow, or some other magical item. The answer as to what this room could be didn't hit him until he heard his own two sickles being hung underneath an empty space, and his grip on the chains around him tightened.

These were previous bounty hunters. Their skulls hung on the walls like trophies.

And he was next.

---

Santa de las estrellas= Saint of the stars

La eterna= The Undying

La joven= The Youthful

Nacido del río de la vida, Ella ha venido a traer juventud a todos= Born from the river of life, she has come to bring youth to all.

Coño= Cunt

#puss in boots #puss in boots death #puss in boots death x reader #puss in boots the last wish #death the wolf #death x reader #muerte x reader #pib:tlw #puss in boots the last wish x reader #fanfic #puss in boots the last wish muerte x reader #puss in boots the last wish death #puss in boots the last wish death x reader

[popironrye]

Dracfield Fanfic Preview

I'm having a blast working on this big dracfield fanfic I have, but it's a slow process. To make myself feel better I wanted to post a little snip bit as like a preview without actually spoiling the largest part of the story. Here's the summary for a little context: In order to get out of a sticky situation, Teddy Lobo pressures Renfield into doing cocaine and the results are messy. Leading to Dracula having to aid his loyal servant in the simple task of getting cleaned up. This little section is heavily implied Tedfield for funsies, but let it be known that this story is not a tedfield fic. So I hope not to disappoint people by clarifying this is the extent of any tedfield stuff really since the story is about dracfield, but let me know if I should write a full blown tedfield fic. :3

What started as one bottle of tequila turned into a second. Then a third. But that wasn’t enough for Teddy. Robert timidly downed as many drinks as Teddy and his entourage handed him. He wasn’t much of a heavy drinker. Being inebriated to such a level would spell disaster not only for his master but also himself. He would surely fail his master by being too drunk to function or at worst, protect him when he needed it. Still though, Robert was always a social drinker and you couldn’t get any more social than being around Teddy and the Lobo gang. Hollering, laughing, and carrying on like the tightest of friends. It wasn’t long before the scenery switched from the Lobo home to a rowdy bar where the drinks continued to flow, to the point where Robert was starting to wobble. Teddy was absolutely sloshed from the beginning, but that didn’t stop him from being the fun loving center of attention. He was really good at that, even as his declarations of a good time became nearly incomprehensible with all the slurring he was doing. He tumbled into furniture and people alike. It was a little amusing to Robert to see the man in such a state.

After Teddy flailed an arm firmly over his shoulder, probably as a way to keep himself more steady, Robert decided it was probably for the best that Teddy be taken home. Everyone else was way too busy enjoying themselves in their own drunken worlds so Robert decided he’d get Teddy home first and come back for everyone else later. While his legs were a little shaky, not helped by how fidgety Teddy was being, Robert was still in his right mind to get back home. Practically dragging Teddy out into the parking lot, with one of Teddy’s arms over his shoulder holding his wrist and his other hand holding firmly on Teddy’s waist to keep his legs from dragging against the ground. Robert was surprised with how little resistance he was getting. Usually Teddy would fight against his grip to keep partying but he seemed content being led away by him. Mumbling under his breath too quiet and too garbled for Robert to fully understand him. Teddy leaned his weight against him, nuzzling his nose into the side of Robert’s neck, causing him to sharply suck a breath in through his teeth. His body let out an involuntary shudder and he felt Teddy smile against his skin. He was getting a kick out of that. Robert grumbled to himself. Smug little twit. Still he smiled. The sensation of the other man pushing his weight against him; trusting him to practically glide him back to the car was nice. The feeling of his warm breath against his pulse point was more intoxicating than the alcohol in his system. The feeling of having someone, anyone relying on him again made his chest flutter. Robert sighed, how quick he was to feel this way was almost shameful. He’d be damned if the slightest bit of touch was all it took to light a fire in his soul and yet, any sensible person could tell he was damned a long time ago. Once he made it back to the car, Robert had to lean Teddy’s body against his side, hoisting him up with one arm as he opened the door with the other. He gently laid Teddy down across the seats. With a slight jostle, Teddy shifted over to glance up at him. Eyes glossy, lips slightly parted as he took short breaths. His chest heaving as he rested his cheek into the leather. His entire face flushed, no doubt from all the alcohol and his once tightly slicked back hair had strands falling all over the place. “Robert…” He muffled softly. The sound of his name coming from Teddy so tenderly brought heat from his core to his cheeks. How he wondered how sweet it would sound to make Teddy call out his name like that more…no! No, he thought. What the hell was wrong with him? He was grateful Teddy had no insight into his mind like his master did. Not that it would have mattered regardless at this moment. Robert prodded Teddy’s leg with his finger tip. He was completely out cold. Robert sighed as he stood a moment letting the night air cool his face. It was only then when his mind was clear from worrying about Teddy and the buzz in his system began to ease that he had the feeling he was being watched. Before he could step back to close the door, he felt a strong pair of hands clasp against the back of his shirt and the other firmly pressed on the back of his head. Before he could even react he was forced violently forward, having his brow line smashed against the top of the inner frame. Robert stayed on his feet but his unseen assailant was quick to lay a few body blows and ended with a hard stomp in the back of his knee. Robert landed against the pavement, he gritted his teeth as he felt the flesh of his palms scrap against the ground. While he was down the man who assaulted him made quick work of the fight with a swift kick right into the side of Robert’s jaw and everything went black.

#renfield #renfield movie #dracfield #tedfield #robert montague renfield #tedward lobo #teddy lobo #writing #my writing #ao3fic #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #current wip

[stupid-sloot-headcanons]

Stupid thot: Lobo as yandere would be utterly terrifying. Just toss you on his space bike and drag you into the most batshit situations. Better get used to public sex cause he's gonna show the universe you're his woman by having you straddle his lap and ride his cock in every sketchy ass bar in the galaxy.

He has a moment like a Eustass Kid or Grimmjow yandere where he flirts a little and regardless of how well you respond he just hauls you over his shoulder to party and ride him and his motorcycle

And his flirting is either eye-rollingly painful or it's genuinely kind of hot, and sometimes it's both

Hey baby, you know the best part about this face tattoo? It ain't a real beard, so you never have to deal with rug burn when you sit on me~

#.sillyshit #.dc #.lobo #yandere dc #yandere lobo #thots

[caffeinatedmoth]

Ok preface I know that possessive behavior is a red flag but uh. I saw that your requests were open and I was wondering if I could please get some Lobo being a lil jealous and possessive over the reader.

Lobo x Reader

tw: swearing, alcohol, smoking, suggestive implications

a/n: love this prompt so i might be a walking red flag myself lol

“God, you cannot be serious.” you groan with disdain.

Before you was a run-of-the-mill bar, brimmed with noise and an odor that was downright foul. The large burly mass behind you places his hands on your shoulders, “Aw, c’mon, you’ve never been to this one.” Lobo takes a drag of his cigar before haphazardly flicking it out of sight and blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. Just as those words left his mouth a crash emits from the entrance of a bar. One of the drunks had stumbled out to pour his guts out onto the pavement.

You groan once more in protest, “Is that really supposed to convince me? I think the stench alone is a safety hazard.” you whine softly before covering your mouth and nose in your hands.

Lobo cackles, “You get used to it.” he begins to confidently stride past you, “Plus, has the Main Man ever steered you wrong?”

Begrudgingly you catch up to his heel and huff in response. “I could fill a room with how many terrible ideas you’ve had.” With a glint in his daring red eyes and wide grin, he reaches behind himself to pull you in front of him. Lobo then proceeds to throw you over his shoulder to sit, perched; a well practiced habit that you grew accustomed to.

“Argue all y’want, sugar. Y’know what that usually leads to…” 

His mischievous chuckle earns a frustrated sound and a tug of his hair, “Lobo!”

“Relax, babes, at least I’m payin’.” the large man is completely unfazed by your halfhearted attempts to hurt him as he continues to wear his wide grin.

You only grumble to yourself when you finally reach the bar. As crowded as it was Lobo manages to squeeze you two into seats furthest from the bathroom. The barstool was so worn out it groaned beneath the added weight. You made a mental note to burn these clothes later. In the corner of your eyes you spot a sea of creeps. However, you were quick to find comfort in the fact that they were clearly wary of who was in your company. Returning your focus to the barkeep you hear Lobo ordering himself something you assumed was whiskey. He turns to you and nudges your arm. You usually got something light, but tonight was different. Lobo only brought you out here for drinks because you had a terribly rough day at work.

You pick something that is sure to boost your confidence and get this party started. This doesn’t go unnoticed by your loud mouth boy toy. “That bad, huh?” 

The bartender is quick to return with your orders. “You have no idea. I am so calling in tomorrow. I’m doing way more than what I’m paid for and they know it! I mean this morning,” you begin retelling your horrible day to Lobo who was uncharacteristically listening without a word. If anything, he was watching you transition from a bundle of stress to a rather friendly little thing. It was somehow relieving to him to see you loosen up so much more than usual. Not that he would ever admit it, but he hated it when you would be so full of burden and barely allow him a windows view of your problems. Now you were suddenly telling him anything without much shame or thought for that matter.

“And that was the worst party I had ever gone to.” you take a swig of your drink, hardly tasting it anymore. Lobo throws his head back to laugh, “Haw! No wonder you quit tequila!”

A few stories and a few drinks later, you notice that you were well passed tipsy. Not that you minded at the time. Just as you were about to start another story, something catches your attention. It was a familiar rythme. The second it hits you, you gasp and turn to Lobo. “Holy shit I love this song!” Although you were slurring your words, you jumped right in. With caution to the wind you even leap onto the bar. It was much to his surprise, but he enjoyed your enthusiasm.

Your choreography was incredibly improvised and frankly, embarrassing. Regardless, everyone in the bar loved it and some even began to cheer for you. Involuntarily, Lobo mentally catalogs this song for later. For now he decides to enjoy the show and cheer you on as well. At some point the fun begins to end when a drunk pulls on your arm by your wrist and into his lap. Red eyes widen at your playful attitude as you respond by caressing their cheek and continuing to sing and laugh. As the song ends the bar erupts in laughter and euphoria. 

“And what’s your name, mister.” 

“You can call me daddy.” he winks at you, “How’s about you and I get outta here, sugar lips.”

You dizzily giggle at him, “Where’re we goin’?”

“A fraggin’ morgue if you don’t get yer paws off my things.” there was a noticeable path between the crowd that led to you both.

Lobo stood in front of you two, not the least bit impressed. In fact, his brows furrowed and he held a disgusted snarl. “Ha ha awkward.” you giggled despite the tension. Perhaps next time he'll just bring the drinks to your place. “Listen, ass-face, if I gotta repeat myself, I’m gonna mess you up so bad I’m gonna be scrapin’ yer veins from my fingernails for a week.”

The bar is silent as Lobo uses his size to loom over the drunk who began to visually shake. “Woah-!” you have to catch yourself on the floor as you are quickly pushed off of your cushion-y seat. The drunk nervously laughs, “My bad, man, didn’t know you had dibs.” he holds his hands up defensively. This did nothing to please the main man as his blood was still boiling. He probably wouldn’t be so upset had you been in your right mind. He knows you would have socked this scumbag in the face before calling to him if you were sober. Thankfully he knew he couldn’t really blame you for any of this no matter how much he wanted to. Didn’t stop him from taking his anger out on this dweeb however.

That said, Lobo uppercuts the guy through the ceiling. His ears twitch at the sickening crack upon impact. Nobody complains and nobody bats an eye. Like a hivemind, they go about their business, even as blood drips from the ceiling.

That was somewhat satisfying, he decided. Returning his sights back on you he's quick to lift you to your feet and into his arms. Considering you were still struggling to get up he figured this would be easier than waiting for you to sober up enough to walk. He was glad he could help you relax, but whatever had happened just then was not ideal. You two may not have been dating but in his eyes you were exclusive. He made sure you knew that with how many secret admirers he had to scare off these past few months. 

Lobo grumbles as he looks down at your flushed gaze. “Th-thanks, Big Guy.” you gently pat his bicep, exhausted, “Tonight was really fun.”

It relaxes him to see the tired smile on your face. His playful bad boy attitude returns, “Yer gonna pay for that lil show back there. Don’t go thinkin’ yer off the hook yet, sweetie bits.” He pays the tab and begins to head towards the door.

You snort at him, “Don’t tell me yer jealous.”

“I don’t like anyone touchin’ my stuff.” he retorts before throwing you over his shoulder and smacking your backside, as is tradition when you give him a headache. “Hm, dunno if I like bein’ called “stuff”.” 

“You’ll get over it.” You chuckle in agreement to that.

On the way home you manage to fall asleep before you even get to your street. Lobo puts you to bed and before his commitment issues make him leave, he takes a second to look at you. Only you would have the courage to fall asleep on the most dangerous bounty hunter in the cosmos. Something about that made him smirk to himself. Lobo leaves with a mental note to bother you in the morning.

#lobo dc x reader #mothwrites #lobo x reader #lobo dc #hes gonna be annoying in the morning #love this man #if thats wrong i dont wanna be right #dc x reader

[gerogerigaogaigar]

Pavement - Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain

Oh no! It's another one of my Favorite Albums Of All Time™. This is the best rock album of the 90's. Somehow blending ennui and deep longing into one contradictory emotion. Crooked Rain speaks to the contradictory feelings of growing up in a middle class suburb. The rebellion vs the comfort. The desire for something that you don't know what it is, but you need it so bad. It's an album about growing up, but it's great contradiction is that it brings me back to childhood every time I hear it. And that isn't nostalgia talking either, I didn't hear this album at all until I was out of high school. If you only listen to one album off the list so far make it this one.

LCD Soundsystem - Sound Of Silver

Deadpan irony delivered with dispassionate sincerity. It's hard to tell whether LCD Soundsystem is making fun of you for having feeling or if they're making fun of you for thinking that you don't. Are they genuinely mad about being mistaken for a European band or are they joking? Is the title track sympathetic or dismissive of teenage angst? Is party culture self destructive or triumphant? The lack of any real answers meld with the slow building and steady instrumentals to create a world where the answers are whatever conclusion you draw. Maybe things can be more than one thing.

Usher - Confessions

Ngl man if you gotta write two back to back songs apologizing for shit then she's probably in the right to leave your ass lol. This album is solid. I think it drags a little, but its not like it's top heavy or anything. I think I just get bored with sensitive R&B guys faster than others. The fact that the album's tone is to be unapologetically horny but also very apologetic at the same time is hilarious to me. I know it isn't deliberate camp but when Usher goes from I'm good at sex songs to please take me back songs it's like environmental storytelling for toxic dudes.

Los Lobos - How Will the Wolf Survive

I'll admit that a sorta folksy sorta rockabilly album from 84 is not an exciting prospect to me. It wasn't bad by any means, but it didn't rock my world either. Not a complete bust though since there is some nice accordion playing here and that always makes me happy.

Elvis Costello - My Aim Is True

The idea to wrap up the brattiest, meanest lyrics in Buddy Holly style rock n roll was one of the greatest masterstrokes of the 70s punk scene. Typically when an artist tries to emulate past styles, especially from the pre stereo era, they either emulate too perfectly and end up derivative or they fail entirely and wind up sounding sterile. Elvis Costello somehow avoids this entirely. The lo fi punk rock production compliments the 50s throwback aesthetics in a way that feels authentic to both styles.

The Four Tops - Reach Out

When I was a child my dad listened exclusively to an oldies station that didn't seem to realize that music existed outside of the years 1951-1968. Hits from the Motown records label were naturally staples of their lineup and the songs that always stood out to me happened to be by The Four Tops. I Can't Help Myself, Bernadette, Walking In The Shadows Of Love, and Reach Out I'll Be There wound up being some of the most foundational songs of my childhood. This album contains three of those four songs. The only real point of this anecdote is to explain how I'm not qualified to review anything by The Four Tops. Hell I even named myself after Levi Stubbs' character from Little Shop of Horrors. This isn't one of my favorite albums of all time, but it contains some of my most essential songs of all time.

Hüsker Dü - New Day Rising

Right in the middle of their discography and in the middle of their evolution from hardcore punk to alt rock pioneers. New Day Rising almost feels like it could have been an early emo influence. Buzzsaw guitars threaten to drown out helplessly shouted vocals. And far from the traditional punk aesthetic that prized political lyricism and outward facing aggression Bob Mould writes personal and introspective songs. Without a doubt this album, while not a turning point in and of itself, is still part of a large scale shift in what rock music would be going forward.

#500 album gauntlet #pavement #lcd soundsystem #usher #los lobos #elvis costello #the four tops #hüsker dü

[ilikecowsnstuff]

CHAPTER 10!!!

SUMMARY:  UA Hero Course - Third Year. Shigaraki Tomura and Dabi have been classmates and rivals since their very first day at UA. But with new feelings developing how will they cope given their history of fragile and often violent encounters? Their dance begins after a partnered training exam goes wrong, leaving Shigaraki wounded and Dabi feeling guilty. AU.

====================

For AO3 – Click Here

For FanFiction – Click Here

====================

CHAPTER TEN - FRIDAY

~ Dabi and Kurogiri, Friday Afternoon ~

The bell ending the school day died down. The series of doors had already slammed open, the stampede in full effect.

Dabi, head and shoulders above a number of students, squeezed in between traffic going both ways, looking for - of all people - Kurogiri. Usually he was easier to spot, but Dabi had to remember Kurogiri could easily disappear in an instant if he wanted to. And being that it was officially the weekend, he probably had somewhere to be in a hurry. Maybe. What did Dabi know? He and Kurogiri were not really friends, actually he knew very little about Shigaraki’s best friend - outside of what he learned from being in classes with him.

He was about to give up on his location mission when, speaking of the devil, Kurogiri was walking towards him, his bored expression turning into one of annoyance in preparation for an unwanted interaction with Dabi no doubt. Dabi naturally had to smirk and if there was a wall present to lean on, he would have lazily leaned in and blocked his way. As it was, he merely stepped directly in front of Kurogiri’s path, pausing for a few seconds before getting to the point. Kurogiri looked like he wanted to hit him. Or worse.

“So… I was thinking.”

“Funny.”

“Yeah. It happens sometimes.”

“Were you concentrating really hard?”

“I was. This is really important, you know.” Before Kurogiri could deflect with more sarcasm, Dabi continued, “So you got the invite to my party?”

“I’m pretty sure the entire school got the invite to your party.”

“Just our year.”

“So almost everyone.”

“Well, I want everyone to come.” Dabi said, emphasis on the word everyone. “Are you going to come?”

‘Why do you care?” Kurogiri asked, head tilting to the side. He wasn’t sure why Dabi was so interested in his RSVP all of a sudden.

Dabi chewed on his lower lip, combing his fingers back through his hair. “Look. I’m just going to be honest with you.” He started, “It might land me in a whole lot of trouble with a certain mutual… friend but…”

“Ah.” Kurogiri interjected, before a Dabi could finish his sentence. “This is about Shigaraki.”

Dabi eyed the other boy. “Yes.”

“Are you two dating or something?”

“What!?” Shocked, Dabi almost choked on his own words.

“No? Just making out then?”

“We’re not…” Dabi stopped himself there. What was the point of denying or lying about it? No, he and Shigaraki were not officially dating but that was the end game. Well, at least for Dabi it was anyway. Kurogiri was bound to find out the truth eventually - once Shigaraki got comfortable and accepted the idea of being in a relationship.

“Is it that obvious?” Dabi asked.

“Depends.” Kurogiri shrugged, “I like to think I know Shigaraki pretty well, so to me, yeah, something is different between you two.” He explained. “And let’s face it, the whole class has noticed you have both been more… amicable with each other these days. It’s not just me.”

“Right.”

“I mean, he hasn’t said anything directly to me, and I didn’t really think you two were... doing whatever it is you’re doing, I’m sure no one does, but I knew something had changed.”

“Regrettably, I am not doing anything with Shigaraki that I couldn’t talk to you about. I won’t go into details of course, because he’d probably kill me, but I could and still manage to keep it PG rated. Mostly.” Dabi explained with a smug grin.

“Please stop. That’s already TMI.”

“Anyways, back to the party.” Dabi began, “He said he would come if you did.”

“That does not sound like something Shigaraki would say.”

“Scouts honor.” Dabi responded, holding two fingers up with sincerity.

“Were you ever in the scouts?”

“Er no. But they’ve got pretty good morals and codes and shit, right?”

Kurogiri looked at him, unimpressed. “He wants me to say no.”

“Yeah, I think he’s counting on it. That’s why I am here politely requesting that you come to the party. I really like him, and I want him there. I need him to be there.”

Kurogiri sighed, resigned to help for God’s knows why. Maybe it was more for Shigaraki’s benefit than it was for Dabi’s. His best friend didn’t trust easily, and he didn’t have many friends, so if Shigaraki was willing to allow Dabi close to him, maybe it was worth fostering that friendship or relationship or whatever it was they had now.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Kurogiri stepped around Dabi and continued down the hall. “No promises though.”

“Hey, thank you! I’ll owe you one.” Dabi couldn’t contain his excitement, fist pumping silently behind Kurogiri’s retreating back.

~ Shigaraki and Kai, Friday Night ~

“Ha Ha! Die Freaks!” Yelled Kai at his screen as he blasted away, shooting anything and everything in sight.

“What the hell are you doing?” Barked Shigaraki, tugging his headset down and peeking over the edge of his laptop at his new friend.

“Killing Mexican Outlaws.”

“We were supposed to keep that one dude alive for the bounty, idiot.”

“Ah fuck. I died.” Kai grumbled, removing his headset and tossing it absently onto the floor.  He had hoped to show Shigaraki up by charging in head first but apparently the other boy had already mastered the game. “My bad.”

Shigaraki snickered and shook his head. “That’s what you get for trying to take on the entire Del Lobo Gang by yourself. I was just behind you, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kai’s scowl grew deeper as Shigaraki smiled triumphantly.

“Are you going to spawn back in or what?”

“Let’s take a break, my eyes are starting to hurt.” Kai sighed, putting his laptop aside. He turned to look back over his shoulder at Shigaraki who was lounged comfortably on his bed, his back against the headboard.

“Amateur.” Shigaraki mumbled, teasing the other boy with a grin.

“You haven't been sitting on the floor for the past two hours. My ass is numb.” He got up to his feet and grabbed his soda before plopping down onto Shigaraki’s bed.

“I’m joking, dick.” Shigaraki said, reaching for his bottle of water. “Pass the Dorito’s.”

Kai grinned in return, shuffling further onto the bed and offering a new unopened bag of Cool Ranch which he had recently learned were Shigaraki’s favourite.

“Thanks for the sweatshirt by the way.” Kai said, crossing his legs and tugging on the end of the material. It was a heavy black hoodie that fit him almost perfectly. They were so similar in size and apparently, they also had the same internal climate control issues. Always cold.

“I want it back before you leave.”

Kai snorted a laugh, “Fine. Black is your colour anyway.”

“Oh, you noticed.” Shigaraki replied, sarcastic

“It’s hard not to notice. Everything is black.”

“Good for hiding blood.”

Kai’s brows popped up.

“I’m joking.” Shigaraki exclaimed.

“True though.”

Shigaraki eyed his new friend before stuffing a handful of chips into his mouth.

“So, are you going to Dabi’s party?” Kai asked breaking off half a Twizzler and chewing the flavoured licorice.

“What?” Shigaraki stammered.

“You got the invite, right? For next weekend.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Heat immediately flooded Shigaraki’s cheeks and he glowered at Kai. “I don’t know if I'll go. Probably not.” He sniffled with disregard and lowered his chin, playing it off like it was nothing, no big deal.

“Really? That’s… surprising.” Kai commented.

“Why is that so surprising?”

“Well, you and Dabi seem pretty close.”

Shigaraki scoffed in contention.

“So, you’re not? Actually, at first I didn’t think you were friends at all but…”

“I just… Parties are not my thing.” Shigaraki interjected before he and Kai went down the complicated friendship rabbit hole. “Too many people, too much noise. No thanks.”

“Hm. I guess I can understand that.” Kai concluded, “We can hang out or something instead. I don’t think I’ll go either.”

“Oh, let me guess, you don’t like parties either?” Shigaraki ventured, thinking Kai was only going along with his weekend plans because he was trying to get into Shigaraki’s good books.

“I like parties fine. But me and Dabi aren’t really friends.” Kai shrugged his shoulders.

“Whatever.” Shigaraki took a deep drink from his water bottle, “Can we get back to the game or are you still being a little bitch?” He taunted, trying to diverge the conversation away from Dabi and his stupid party. He dragged his laptop back in front of him and repositioned his headset.

“Ass.” Kai leaned over the edge of the bed and picked up his own laptop and headset from the floor, resting the gear comfortably on his crossed legs, “Don’t get upset if I accidently shoot you in the back.”

~ Shigaraki, Kai and Kurogiri, Sometime early early Saturday Morning ~

“Are you dead again?”

Kai scowled at the other boy. Truth be told, he just wasn’t as good a gamer as Shigaraki was but that was no reason to rub it in his face. Also, they had been playing for hours, Kai was having trouble focusing.

“Oh c’mon, quit sulking. We’re a team remember? If you die, I lose too.” Shigaraki paused and then tilted his head, like he was pondering something. “If anything, I should be the one brooding. You shoot like a fucking storm trooper. Couldn’t hit a…”

An empty water bottle whooshing past Shigaraki’s head stopped him mid-sentence.

“Shut up.” Kai grumbled.

“Missed again! You just proved my point, idiot.” Shigaraki asserted. And even though he looked ticked off, Kai couldn’t contain his grin, amused by the casual and comfortable banter between him and his new friend.

Pound, pound, pound. Both boys started at the sudden knocking on Shigaraki’s door. “Yeah?” Shigaraki answered, tugging his headset down.

“It’s me.”

Kurogiri.

Shigaraki set his laptop aside and then hopped off his bed to open the door for his best friend.

“You’re up late.”

“Yeah. I can hear everything from my room you know.” Kurogiri was leaning against the door frame, his cell phone in his hand. He looked bored - although perked up a little at the sight of Kai sitting on Shigaraki’s bed.

“You two look comfortable.” He commented, observing the nest of drinks and junk food they had created on the bed. He snickered at Kai, who merely raised his brows.

“Hi.” Kai greeted with a quick wave.

Kurogiri nodded his head in return before strolling into the room. Shigaraki closed the door behind him.

“You want to take over? I am being completely destroyed.” Kai declared.

“Understatement.” Shigaraki mumbled, Kai’s mouth settled into a hard line. Kurogiri snorted a laugh and shook his head.

“I’ll pass.”

“So, what’s up?” Shigaraki asked, folding his arms over his chest.

“You see Dabi’s invite?”

Shigaraki rolled his eyes and quickly returned to his spot on the bed, his head falling back and hitting the wall behind with a loud thud.

“We’re not going.” Kai answered, speaking for both of them. He offered Kurogiri a rope of licorice from his opened bag of Twizzlers. Since he had started at UA, he and Kurogiri hadn’t really spent that much time together, he was hoping they could be friends too. “We already talked about it.”

With an arched brow, Kurogiri accepted the offered candy, “You making decisions together now?”

“No.” Shigaraki hissed, rolling his head back up to look at his friend. “I just said I’m not going.”

“And I want to go. But I don’t really know anyone so if Shigaraki isn’t going then I'm not either.”

“I kind of want to go.” Kurogiri revealed, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

“What?” Shigaraki replied, dismayed. He scowled. “Why?”

“Aren’t you a little interested in seeing the Todoroki Family Home? I mean, Endeavor lives there. How often do you get a chance to see the home of a Pro?”

“I don’t think he’s going to be there.” Kai interjected.

“I know.” Kurogiri countered, “I’m still curious though.”

Shigaraki eyed his best friend suspiciously. Why the interest suddenly? Kurogiri never gave Dabi a second thought, and he definitely wouldn’t have accepted an invitation from him - for anything. What had changed? Not a second later, realization hit him smack in the face and heat flooded his cheeks. Did Kurogiri know something? Had Dabi actually talked to him? And if he had, what did Kurogiri know? What was he hiding?

“Since when do you give a shit about Endeavor?” He questioned. Kai glanced over at Shigaraki before looking back at Kurogiri. He knew he was missing something but didn’t want to seem like a third wheel. It probably didn’t matter.

“I don’t.” He replied confidently, and then added. “But why not go? Could be fun.”

Shigaraki scoffed.

“Kai, you want to go right?” “Ah.” Again, he glanced quickly over at Shigaraki. “Yeah. I’d go. If you both do.”

Shigaraki huffed and drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs.

“We don’t have to stay long or anything. Drop in and drop out.” Kurogiri reasoned with his best friend, pushing the subject gently and trying to make the idea of going to the party somewhat more appealing. He had to tread lightly and gauge the other boy’s reaction based on the words he was saying. The current outlook was positive, Shigaraki was close to accepting the invitation but one wrong word and it could turn ugly really quick.

He was fine either way, whether they went to the party or not did not matter to Kurogiri. He was doing this only for Shigaraki, and coincidentally, partly for Dabi as well. He said he would try and get his friend to the party, with no promises. He was fulfilling his side of their agreement.

“That’s a good compromise.” Kai agreed, biting back a grin. He didn’t want to seem too keen, but he was kind of looking forward to going to Dabi’s party with Shigaraki. He didn’t care to go by himself.

“So how about it?” Kurogiri asked, hopeful.

“Okay, fine.” Shigaraki finally muttered, “I’ll go to the stupid fucking party. Can we stop talking about it already?”

====================

Chapter One – Accidental Attraction

Chapter Two – After Care

Chapter Three – Dazed and Confused

Chapter Four – I Like You

Chapter Five - Friends and Enemies

Chapter Six - Confrontation!

Chapter Seven - Transfer Student

Chapter Eight - A Period of Learning

Chapter Nine - Work and Play

#shigadabi #shigaraki x dabi #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki #dabi #toya todoroki #chisaki kai #overhaul #kurogiri #my hero academia #mha #my hero academia fanfiction #mha fanfiction #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia fanfiction #bnha #bnha fanfiction #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #archive of our own #ua high #alternate universe #au

[scarabaebutch]

summaries for the first half of yj: outsiders

Ep. 1 Princes All: I see Batman is up to his bullshit again.

Ep. 2 Royal We: Artemis adopts a buried alive girl. Brion follows a shady scientist into a children’s hospital basement. Brion has not watched horror movies before.

Ep. 3 Eminent Threat: Halo’s first onscreen death- oh boy, I sure hope the writers don’t make a habit out of killing a POC character over and over. Brion crashes a party while buck naked in his Geo form, fulfilling his role of Constantly Shirtless Boy of the Season.

Ep. 4 Private Security: The Harpers’ power to cause chaos is too strong to contain. I’m so glad that Will is doing so well as a father to Lian.

Ep. 5 Away Mission: The only time the S2 Team gets a subplot. Unsurprisingly, M’gann’s “make love not war” speech does not work on an angry revolutionary.

Ep. 6 Rescue Op: What goes around comes around, Nightwing. Brion finally learns to consider the consequences of his actions after Halo gets her neck snapped grotesquely. Weekly quota of death fulfilled.

Ep. 7 Evolution: Vandal Savage’s been spending his years doing some shady dealing with Darkseid. That totally won’t come back to bite him. Forager smacks Nightwing’s ass with a towel and does an adorable crab impression. Brion tries to pick a stripper name.

Ep. 8 Triptych: I see the Batfam is up to their bullshit again.

Ep. 9 Home Fires: Superfamilies and babies all around! Orm gets his head chopped off, like all Nazis deserve. Halo is speared through by Lobo and is dragged along the ground, screaming until she bleeds out, fulfilling the weekly quota of death and gore. Forager gets goochy.

Ep. 10 Exceptional Human Beings: I see Brion is up to his bullshit again.

Ep. 11 Another Human Freak: This week, Victor fulfills the gore quota. Interesting how all of this gore happens only the characters of color. Putting Forager in a high school is a punishment to this precious bug of light and happiness. Violet learns how to exorcise demons out of cyborgs. This is apparently normal for her. 

Ep. 12 Nightmare Monkeys: Gar meets the magical monkey trickster god on a traumatic acid trip. Afterwards, all of the heteros kiss.

Ep. 13 True Heroes: The Outsiders finally found Tara. There’s a meta called Holocaust, a possessed Vic chases a hijabless Halo, and Tommy Terror looks like he’s been doing meth in his free time. Also Tara texts Slade something in the last three seconds or whatever; it’s not very important.

#young justice #young justice outsiders #yj spoilers #yjo #yj #scarabae speaks

[theculturedmarxist]

       28 June 2019  

Today marks the tenth anniversary of the US-backed coup that overthrow the elected president of Honduras, Manuel Zelaya, who was dragged out of the presidential palace in his pajamas by armed troops, bundled onto an airplane and flown out of the country.

This event ushered in a decade of unending repression by a succession of extreme right-wing and deeply corrupt governments. They have ruled the country with a ruthless determination to defend the interests of the national oligarchy—the so-called “ten families” of multi-millionaires and billionaires—and of foreign finance capital.

For the masses of Honduran workers and rural poor, the policies implemented by the right-wing regimes that followed the ouster of Zelaya have proven disastrous. Honduras is today the most unequal country in Latin America, itself the most unequal region in the world. Nearly 70 percent of the country’s population lives in poverty, while over 60 percent lack formal employment. The murder rate, which soared to the highest in the world, still remains nine times that in the United States.

One result has been a mass exodus. The US government has reported detaining 175,000 Hondurans on the US-Mexican border in the last eight months. The country accounts for by far the largest share of migrants and refugees fleeing to the US border—30 percent of the total. This is nearly double the 16 percent share recorded just three years ago.

These masses of workers and their families fleeing their own country because of intolerable conditions created by imperialism and the native ruling class confront the same horrific circumstances that have shocked the population of the US and the world with the recent publication of the photograph of a Salvadoran father and his daughter who drowned together in the Rio Grande.

Just last April, an adult and three children from Honduras drowned in the same river when their raft capsized. On Thursday, Mexican authorities reported that a young Honduran woman traveling north with her family fell from a train and was crushed beneath its wheels.

Now these refugees are confronting the combined repression, detention and abuse from the governments of the United States, Mexico and Guatemala, which have united in the use of naked force in an attempt to prevent them from escaping poverty, state terror and rampant violence.

Democratic Party candidates and congressional leaders have shed crocodile tears over the deaths in the Rio Grande and postured as defenders of immigrants. These sentiments are belied, however, by the fact that Democratic President Barack Obama, the “deporter-in-chief”, and his then secretary of state, Hillary Clinton, presided over the coup that devastated Honduras, driving its people in desperation to flee the country despite the threats of death, persecution and being thrown into a US concentration camp.

After Zelaya’s overthrow, kidnapping and expulsion from the country, the Obama administration sought to preserve a veneer of commitment to “democracy” in Latin America—and deniability for its military, intelligence and diplomatic operatives—by publicly deploring the ouster of Zelaya.

Clinton, however, pointedly refused to describe the military’s seizure and deportation of an elected president as a “coup,” a designation that under the US Foreign Assistance Act, would have required the Obama administration to cut off aid and ties to the coup regime.

The administration likewise failed to demand Zelaya’s reinstatement. Given that the US accounted for 70 percent of Honduran export earnings and provided the guns and aid upon which the country’s military depended, it had unquestioned power to force a reversal of the coup.

Its formal reservations notwithstanding, however, it was soon revealed that top US officials had been in discussions with the military commanders and right-wing politicians who organized the coup shortly before Zelaya’s overthrow.

A conservative and wealthy bourgeois politician of the Honduran Liberal Party, which regularly alternated power with the equally right-wing National Party under US and military-dominated regimes, Zelaya earned Washington’s enmity by becoming swept up by Latin America’s so-called “Pink Tide”. This collection of bourgeois nationalist governments was able, thanks to the commodity boom and the rise of China’s economic influence in the region, to adopt a posture of populism and independence from US imperialism.

For Zelaya, the clear attraction was cheap Venezuelan oil and loans. However, US imperialism, which had sought seven years earlier to overthrow Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez in a civilian-military coup, was determined to eliminate a government aligned with Venezuela and Cuba in Honduras.

The Central American country has longed served as a staging ground for counterrevolutionary operations in the region, from the 1954 CIA overthrow of the Arbenz government in Guatemala through to the CIA-organized “contra” war against Nicaragua in the 1980s. The civil wars and counter-insurgency campaigns carried out by US imperialism in the region, using Honduras as its base, would claim the lives of hundreds of thousands. It remains the site of the largest US military base in Latin America at Soto Cano.

Much the same US personnel involved in the 2002 coup against Chavez in Venezuela under George W. Bush were involved in the 2009 coup against Zelaya in Honduras under Barack Obama. And the same strategic policy guides the Trump administration’s present regime change operation against the government of Nicolas Maduro in Venezuela.

Underlying this clear continuity in Washington’s foreign policy, under both Democratic and Republican administrations alike, is the drive by US imperialism to reverse the decline of its global economic hegemony by military means, particularly in the region that it has so long regarded as its “own backyard.”

The Honduran working class responded to the 2009 coup with immense heroism. It staged continuous demonstrations and strikes in the teeth of savage repression. This included the arbitrary detention of thousands, the shooting of protesters, the gang rape of women detained at protests and the organization of death squads to assassinate journalists and opponents of the coup regime.

Washington ignored this savage brutality, and the US corporate media largely passed over it in silence.

For his part, Zelaya placed his faith in the pseudo-democratic façade of the Obama administration, appealing for its aid and submitting himself—and subordinating the mass movement against the coup—to a series of negotiations aimed at forming a “government of national unity” with those who overthrew him.

In the end, these negotiations led nowhere. The right-wing coup regime led by Zelaya’s former Liberal Party ally Roberto Micheletti was able to drag out the process until rigged elections could be staged in November 2009, installing the right-wing government of Porfirio “Pepe” Lobo and allowing Washington and world imperialism to pretend that the coup had never happened.

Despite the heroism of the Honduran workers, the leadership of the unions and other organizations supporting Zelaya’s reinstatement led the mass movement into a political blind alley, leaving the working class unprepared to confront Zelaya’s capitulation and the consolidation of power by the coup regime under Lobo.

Honduras is today confronting its most severe crisis since the coup of ten years ago. For over a month, mass protests and strikes by teachers and doctors against sweeping IMF-dictated cuts and threats of privatization of education and healthcare have rocked the country. Students have joined these mass protests, occupying their schools and confronting riot police and troops.

Today will see mass demonstrations throughout Honduras marking the coup anniversary. These protests will pay homage to the 136 killed during the repression of the protests against the coup, as well as the 14 murdered by death squads and the 13 disappeared. Since then, many more have been slain, including four killed in just the most recent protests.

They will undoubtedly also advance the demand for the bringing down of the government of Juan Orlando Hernández (JOH), the corrupt president and overseer for the International Monetary Fund, who is kept in power by the Honduran military and US Marines.

Zelaya, now the leader of the Partido Libertad y Refundación, is advancing this demand, once again from the standpoint of reaching a deal within the ruling oligarchy and securing support from Washington.

In 2009, the World Socialist Web Site stated that the struggle of the Honduran working class had “helped expose two great political fictions. The first is the pretense that the Obama administration has inaugurated a new era of non-intervention and mutual respect in US-Latin American relations. The second is that the region’s bourgeois regimes of a nationalist or populist stripe—from Venezuela’s Chavez to Zelaya himself—offer any way forward for the working class and oppressed masses.”

It went on to warn that those “calling themselves ‘socialists’ who promote illusions in these figures are disarming the working class and preparing even greater defeats.”

With the resurgence of the class struggle, these lessons are crucial. Workers can defend their rights only through a conscious break with all forms of bourgeois and petty-bourgeois nationalism, which are instruments not for waging the class struggle but for suppressing it.

What is required is a political rearming and international unification of the working class of Honduras with workers throughout Central America, the United States and the entire hemisphere in a common struggle against capitalist exploitation, oppression and war. This means building sections of the International Committee of the Fourth International throughout the Americas.

Bill Van Auken

#thanks obama #honduras #latin america #central america #hillary clinton #imperialism #cia #imf #international monetary fund #indigenous oppression #us marines

[dweemeister]

2018 Movie Odyssey

That is time on the 2018 Movie Odyssey. Though the number of total films I saw increased this year, that was mostly because of a stratospheric rise in short films I saw - thanks to my time at the 2018 Viet Film Fest and Turner Classic Movies’ (TCM) decision in March to begin airing one classic Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM) short and a Popeye short every Saturday morning except in August and select Saturdays. I saw two hundred and sixty-two films in their entirety that were completely new to me this year - 156 feature-length films (includes one serial) and 107 short films. The number of features was expected to go down this year because of the Winter Olympics in February and the FIFA World Cup in June/July. With only the Women’s World Cup in June/July 2019, maybe there’ll be an increase next year (we’ll see how employment impacts the number too)?

If there is anything that disappoints me about this list is that, again, there is only one African film (a short) featured this year and one from Latin America (Roma). There used to be a handful of classic African films on Netflix, but Netflix’s recent moves to emphasize television and its Netflix originals has blocked off that possibility. So here’s hoping in 2019 there will be much more representation from Africa and Latin America - not only among short films, but in features especially.

For all those who participated and supported the Movie Odyssey in any way - by reading, liking, commenting on, or reblogging a write-up; talking with me about movies we’ve seen; or even sitting down with me to watch something... none of this possible without you. So all of you have my thanks. The Movie Odyssey continues, as always. Onward to 2019.

As many of you know, all ratings are based on my imdb rating and half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found here. A 6/10 is considered the borderline between “passing” and “failing”. Feature-length narrative films, serials, documentaries, and short films are rated within their respective spectrums. Here is the list... beginning with Disney and ending with Disney.

JANUARY

Pete’s Dragon (1977) – 6.5/10

The Post (2017) – 8/10

Salt of the Earth (1954) – 7/10

Girl Crazy (1943) – 7/10

The Greatest Showman (2017) – 6/10

Charade (1963) – 9.5/10

The Boy with Green Hair (1948) – 6/10

Stop! Look! And Hasten! (1954 short) – 7/10

Strangled Eggs (1961 short) – 6/10

Flirty Birdy (1945 short) – 6/10

Hollywood Hotel (1937) – 6/10

Darkest Hour (2017) – 7/10

Mary and the Witch’s Flower (2017, Japan) – 7/10

Pyaasa (1957, India) – 9.5/10

Call Me by Your Name (2017) – 8/10

Phantom Thread (2017) – 9/10

A Warm December (1973) – 6/10

A Corny Concerto (1943 short) – 9/10

FEBRUARY (2018′s 31 DAYS OF OSCAR)

All This, and Heaven Too (1940) – 8.5/10

A River Runs Through It (1992) – 7/10

The Heiress (1949) – 10/10

Stop, Look and Listen (1967 short) – 9/10

The Black Stallion (1979) – 7.5/10

DeKalb Elementary (2017 short) – 9/10

The Silent Child (2017 short) – 7/10

My Nephew Emmett (2017 short) – 7.5/10

The Eleven O’Clock (2017 short) – 9/10

Watu Wote: All of Us (2017, Germany/Kenya) – 8/10

Love is a Many-Splendored Thing (1955) – 6/10

Dear Basketball (2017 short) – 7.5/10

Negative Space (2017 short, France) – 7.5/10

Lou (2017 short) – 8/10

Revolting Rhymes Part One (2016 short) – 8/10

Garden Party (2016 short, France) – 7/10

Lost Property Office (2017 short) – 7/10

Weeds (2017 short) – 6/10

Achoo (2017 short, France) – 6/10

Heroin(e) (2017 short) – 6.5/10

Knife Skills (2017 short) – 8/10

Traffic Stop (2017 short) – 7/10

Edith+Eddie (2017 short) – 8/10

Heaven is a Traffic Jam on the 405 (2016 short) – 6.5/10

MARCH

A Man for All Seasons (1966) – 8/10

The Alamo (1960) – 6/10

A Wrinkle in Time (2018) – 5.5/10

Black Panther (2018) – 7/10

The Counterfeit Cat (1949 short) – 7/10

Popeye the Sailor (1933 short) – 8/10

Piccadilly (1929) – 6/10

Stranger on the Third Floor (1940) – 7/10

Droopy Leprechaun (1958 short) – 6/10

I Yam What I Yam (1933 short) – 6.5/10

The Whole Town’s Talking (1935) – 7.5/10

National Velvet (1944) – 6.5/10

The Early Bird Dood It! (1942 short) – 7/10

Blow Me Down! (1933 short) – 7/10

Splendor in the Grass (1961) – 8.5/10

Dangal (2016, India) – 7/10

Ready Player One (2018) – 7/10

The Golden Touch (1935 short) – 7/10

Grease (1978) – 6.5/10

The Bear That Couldn’t Sleep (1939 short) – 6/10

I Eats My Spinach (1933 short) – 7/10

Overboard (1987) – 7.5/10

APRIL

Quo Vadis (1951) – 7.5/10

In Search of the Castaways (1962) – 6/10

Cimarron (1931) – 5/10

The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (2013) – 6/10

Mr. Duck Steps Out (1940 short) – 7.5/10

The One and Only, Genuine, Original Family Band (1968) – 6/10

A Quiet Place (2018) – 8/10

Little ‘Tinker (1948 short) – 7/10

Seasin’s Greetniks! (1933 short) – 6.5/10

Drag-A-Long Droopy (1954 short) – 7/10

Wild Elephinks (1933 short) – 6/10

The Cat Returns (2002, Japan) – 6/10

Spring Dreams (1960, Japan) – 6/10

The Journey of Natty Gann (1985) – 7.5/10

Gunfight at the O.K. Corral (1957) – 7/10

PK (2014, India) – 7/10

The Bear and the Bean (1948 short) – 6/10

Sock-a-Bye, Baby (1934 short) – 6/10

Crossfire (1947) – 7.5/10

The Sword and the Rose (1953) – 6/10

The Beatles: Eight Days a Week – The Touring Years (2016) – 7/10

Rob Roy: The Highland Rogue (1953) – 5/10

Animal House (1978) – 6.5/10

The Early Bird and the Worm (1936 short) – 5/10

Let’s You and Him Fight (1934 short) – 6/10

MAY

My Brother’s Wedding (1983) – 7.5/10

Avengers: Infinity War (2018) – 6.5/10

Chips Off the Old Block (1942 short) – 6/10

The Man on the Flying Trapeze (1934 short) – 8/10

The Woman in White (1948) – 6.5/10

Can You Take It (1934 short) – 7/10

Farewell to Spring (1959, Japan) – 6.5/10

Floral Japan (1937 short) – 5/10

The Wacky World of Mother Goose (1967) – 3/10

Dodge City (1939) – 7/10

Homesteader Droopy (1954 short) – 7/10

Shoein’ Hosses (1934 short) – 6/10

Wonder Man (1945) – 7/10

Hans Christian Andersen (1952) – 7.5/10

Solo (2018) – 6/10

JUNE

A Day at the Beach (1938 short) – 6/10

Strong to the Finich (1934 short) – 6.5/10

Blondie (1938) – 7/10

A Man Escaped (1956, France) – 10/10

Braveheart (1995) – 6.5/10

Hereditary (2018) – 9/10

Moose Hunters (1937 short) – 7/10

Bao (2018 short) – 6/10

Incredibles 2 (2018) – 8/10

Sleepy-Time Squirrel (1954 short) – 7/10

Shiver Me Timbers! (1934 short) – 8.5/10

Papa Gets the Bird (1940 short) – 6/10

Axe Me Another (1934 short) – 7/10

So You’re Going to Be a Father (1947 short) – 7/10

Gokurôsama (2017 short, France) – 6/10

Pom Poko (1994, Japan) – 8/10

Greyfriars Bobby (1961) – 7/10

Red Barry (1938 serial) – 5/10

Won’t You Be My Neighbor? (2018) – 9/10

JULY

The Three Little Pups (1953 short) – 7.5/10

A Dream Walking (1934 short) – 7/10

Cellbound (1955 short) – 8/10

The Two-Alarm Fire (1934 short) – 6/10

The Blue Angel (1930, Germany) – 9.5/10

The Philadelphia Story (1940) – 10/10

Big Red (1962) – 6/10

Benji the Hunted (1987) – 6/10

The Dance Contest (1934 short) – 6/10

It (1927) – 7/10

The Legend of Lobo (1962) – 7/10

Tarzan the Ape Man (1932) – 6/10

Dances with Wolves (1990) – 8.5/10

The NeverEnding Story (1984) – 6/10

Son of Lassie (1945) – 6/10

A Generation (1955, Poland) – 6.5/10

Overture: Tannhäuser (1926 short) – 6/10

Stowaway (1936) – 7/10

A View to a Kill (1985) – 4.5/10

Warlock (1959) – 7.5/10

The Steamroller and the Violin (1961, Soviet Union) – 8.5/10

Old Smokey (1938 short) – 6.5/10

Beware of Barnacle Bill (1935) – 8/10

Stalker (1979, Soviet Union) – 10/10

Moon Over Miami (1941) – 7/10

Eighth Grade (2018) – 8.5/10

The Living Daylights (1987) – 6/10

Sorry to Bother You (2018) – 8/10

The Little Wise Quacker (1952 short) – 6/10

Be Kind to ‘Aminals’ (1935 short) – 5/10

Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (1954) – 8.5/10

AUGUST

Gojira (1954, Japan) – 9/10

Christopher Robin (2018) – 7/10

Mission: Impossible – Fallout (2018) – 8/10

Licence to Kill (1989) – 7.5/10

Mare Nostrum (1926) – 6.5/10

Berkeley Square (1933) – 7/10

Crazy Rich Asians (2018) – 7/10

GoldenEye (1995) – 8/10

Hanh, Solo (2017) – 7/10 (2018 Viet Film Fest)

The Girl from Yesterday (2017, Vietnam) – 6/10 (2018 Viet Film Fest)

Actress Wanted (2018) – 7/10 (2018 Viet Film Fest)

Tomorrow Never Dies (1997) – 6/10

Cheyenne Autumn (1964) – 6/10

The Fountainhead (1949) – 6.5/10

South Pacific (1958) – 6/10

Uncle Tom’s Cabin (1927) – 7/10

Naughty Marietta (1935) – 6/10

The World Is Not Enough (1999) – 5/10

The Way Station (2017, Vietnam) – 6/10 (2018 Viet Film Fest)

It Happened at the World’s Fair (1963) – 5/10

49th Parallel (1941) – 8.5/10

SEPTEMBER

The Rains Came (1939) – 6/10

8½ (1963, Italy) – 10/10

Die Another Day (2002) – 4.5/10

The Lost World: Jurassic Park (1997) – 5/10

Tron (1982) – 5/10

Perfect Blue (1997, Japan) – 8/10

RBG (2018) – 7.5/10

The Alley Cat (1941 short) – 7/10

The ‘Hyp-Nut-Tist’ (1935 short) – 6/10

My Neighbors the Yamadas (1999, Japan) – 8.5/10

Pick of the Litter (2018) – 7/10

The House of Tomorrow (1949 short) – 7.5/10

OCTOBER

Cry, the Beloved Country (1951) – 8/10

A Star Is Born (2018) - 8/10

The Story of Temple Drake (1933) – 8/10

The Spirit of the Beehive (1973, Spain) – 8/10

First Generation (2017 short) – 6/10 (2018 Viet Film Fest)

Nước (2016 short, Vietnam) – 7/10 (2018 Viet Film Fest)

Spring Leaves (2015 short, France) – 8/10 (2018 Viet Film Fest)

Every Grain of Rice (2017 short) – 6/10 (2018 Viet Film Fest; not on imdb)

Nguyening: The Lee Nguyen Story (2017 short) – 7/10 (2018 Viet Film Fest; not on imdb)

Summer in Closed Eyes (2018, Vietnam) – 7/10 (2018 Viet Film Fest)

Untold Secrets (2018 short) – student film, score withheld (2018 Viet Film Fest; not on imdb)

Altarlife (2018 short) – student film, score withheld (2018 Viet Film Fest; not on imdb)

The Broken Bond (2018 short) – student film, score withheld (2018 Viet Film Fest; not on imdb)

Crazy 8 (2018 short) – student film, score withheld (2018 Viet Film Fest; not on imdb)

100 Days of Sunshine (2018, Vietnam) – 6/10 (2018 Viet Film Fest)

The Purple Horizon (1971, Vietnam) – 7/10 (2018 Viet Film Fest)

The Walking Dead (1936) – 6.5/10

First Man (2018) – 8/10

The Seventh Victim (1943) – 7/10

The Tailor (2017, Vietnam) – 6.5/10

The Curse of the Mummy’s Tomb (1964) – 4/10

NOVEMBER

The Old Man & the Gun (2018) – 7/10

Fallen Angel (1945) – 6/10

Imitation of Life (1934) – 8/10

Free Solo (2018) – 8/10

Mabel’s Blunder (1914 short) – 6/10

Caught in a Cabaret (1914 short) – 6/10

Floating Weeds (1959, Japan) – 9/10

The Hate U Give (2018) – 7/10

The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (2018) – 7.5/10

The D.I. (1957) – 7/10

Can You Ever Forgive Me? (2018) – 7.5/10

Alexander Nevsky (1938, Soviet Union) – 8/10

Ralph Breaks the Internet (2018) – 6/10

Cooley High (1975) – 7/10

Burning (2018, South Korea) – 9/10

Mirai (2018, Japan) – 6/10

DECEMBER

West Point (1927) – 7/10

Shoplifters (2018, Japan) – 10/10

Roma (2018, Mexico) – 10/10

Kiss & Spell (2017, Vietnam) – 5/10 (2018 Viet Film Fest)

Henpecked Hoboes (1946 short) – 6/10

For Better or Worser (1935 short) – 7/10

Dizzy Divers (1935 short) – 7/10

The Little Whirlwind (1941 short) – 6/10

The Captain’s Pup (1938 short) – 6/10

You Gotta Be a Football Hero (1935 short) – 6.5/10

King of the Mardi Gras (1935 short) – 7/10

Barney Bear’s Victory Garden (1942 short) – 6.5/10

Screwball Squirrel (1944 short) – 7.5/10

Adventures of Popeye (1935 short) – 5/10

The Spinach Overture (1935 short) – 7/10

One Droopy Knight (1957 short) – 7.5/10

Who Killed Who? (1943 short) – 8/10

Vim, Vigor and Vitaliky (1936 short) – 6/10

A Clean Shaven Man (1936 short) – 7/10

Jerky Turkey (1945 short) – 6/10

Brotherly Love (1936 short) – 8/10

I-Ski Love-Ski You-Ski (1936 short) – 7/10

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018) – 9/10

Grin and Share It (1957 short) – 7.5/10

Alias St. Nick (1935 short) – 6/10

The Captain’s Christmas (1938 short) – 6/10

Bridge Ahoy! (1936 short) – 7/10

What – No Spinach? (1936 short) – 7/10

I Wanna Be a Life Guard (1936 short) – 6/10

Flight of the Navigator (1986) – 7.5/10

The Black Hole (1979) – 5.5/10

Pluto’s Sweater (1949 short) – 6/10

Double Dribble (1946 short) – 6/10

Aquaman (2018) – 6.5/10

The Absent-Minded Professor (1961) – 7/10

The Favourite (2018) – 8.5/10

The Cat from Outer Space (1978) – 5.5/10

Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey (1993) – 6/10

Son of Flubber (1963) – 6/10

All scores are subject to change (upgrades and downgrades) upon a rewatch.

#My Movie Odyssey

[popironrye]

Can you imagine to absolute chaos Renfield would get into if he became buddies with Teddy Lobo? Like I imagine Renfield himself never really made close friends with anyone anywhere they went due to the whole Dracula thing. Not only cause everyone he interacted with would be protentional food but only staying in a place for a few years at a time wouldn't leave much time to stay friends. But with Teddy, it would be completely different. Since he and his crew would also be working with Dracula, Teddy would be one of the few people Renfield would be able to interact with without fear of becoming Dracula's victims. Renfield could be super desperate for human connection, and Teddy would be eager to drag Dracula's favorite servant around as a bragging right. Plus I can see him being generously curious about Renfield as man who's lived so long and been to so many places.

Picture it, one of the few times Renfield just gets to unwind for a while and goes out partying with Teddy and a group of his friends. He gets to drink so much more than ever could before. After all, even being tipsy in Dracula's presence was a big deal. Being intoxicated of any kind meant he'd be too inebriated to properly protect his master or put himself in more danger unable to defend himself. So with the Lobo gang taking care of most of Dracula's needs, he's free to get absolutely wasted. This of course can bring up a number of good prompts, (especially if you're a TedField shipper like me) but one I thought of was the gang just telling crazy stories about each other. Renfield, feeling flattered they want to know more about him, could have a whole bunch of crazy stories during his almost century working for Dracula. The group could get on the topic of piercings and tattoos. Not seeming like a guy to do either, Teddy does wonder if Renfield has any. He denies the tattoos, but in his drunken state would slip that he has nipple piercings. I imagine he got them during the punk scene in London in the late 70s while in band and just never got rid of them. Teddy would think that would be ridiculous, but the crew are having such a blast, Renfield isn't shy to admit it. Maybe even proves it to him. XD I can also see them all being so drunk they think it's a great idea to get Renfield his first tattoo. Renfield is too drunk to say no. But he doesn't want just any tattoo and it certainly can't be in a place easily seen. He must be able to cover it up. So he gets a flock of bats on and under his ass cheek. Even better if they flock under him and end in his inner thigh. :3

#renfield #renfield 2023 #dracula #renfield movie #headcanon #teddy lobo #robert montague renfield #discuss #writing prompt #fic prompt #story prompt #prompt

[winedwords]

Aleister | Wicked Games | Black

Title: Wicked Games

Pairing; Aleister Black/unnamed OFC

Words; 3985

Summary; Run darling, for I am hungry.

Warnings; Werewolves, magick, smut, slight dubcon, outdoor sex, alcohol, non graphic descriptions of death, murder, and dismemberment. 

Author’s Note: Hi. I’m sorry I’ve been gone. I’m trying to be better and get better, I’ve been struggling with anxiety, depression, and one hell of a writer’s block. Please accept this as my submission and tell Raini she’s pretty okay? Its still Halloween on the Best Coast.

Run. Run. Run.

Don't look behind you, don't think about the snapping twigs and the howls and yips and growls behind you.

Just run.

It was that mantra that kept me moving forward even if my lungs were starved for air and the muscles in my legs were screaming from the overexertion. I thought I could feel his breath at my neck and it spurned me forward, dodging and weaving through the trees. Every time I blinked, I saw his burning amber eyes and his growled words echoing in my ears, the fear still just as fresh as it had been when I first heard the screams.

Do not let me catch you. It's a game. Just - it's a game. Please... Please, don't let me catch you. I don't want to win this game, not now.

When Aleister Black had first rolled into my small Florida town, I had a hard time meeting his eyes. Danger and the threat of violence seemed to ooze from every pore in his body, let alone his intimidating presence. He was tall and broad, tattoos covering every visible inch of his upper body, his eyes sharp and calculating as they roamed over everyone and everything. I remember him walking into the diner where I worked the day after he'd moved to town and a hush had fallen over the establishment, even the rowdy bikers in the corner booth went still.

Of course he'd sat in my section. It was just my luck that he would. I remember being struck by how he had moved like a large cat, all sinewy muscle and effortless grace in what was clearly an expensive navy suit. When he'd sat at the counter and eyed the menu in front of him disinterestedly, the sleeves of his suit hiked high, exposing even more colorful ink high on his wrists, the patterns and symbols disappearing up into the sleeves of his jacket. My hands had shook something fierce as I had poured him coffee, somehow by the grace of whatever divinity exists, I had not spilled more than a drop.

"Relax, katje. I am another patron of your establishment, just here to enjoy the hospitality my new home has to offer."

His lightly accented voice was smoother than the hundred dollar bourbon I had snuck a nip of during the holidays and the way his sharp eyes had softened just a touch had done wonders to soothe my frayed nerves. I felt trapped in his gaze, but it wasn't something uncomfortable, oh no, his small smile had chased away any fears of this man. It was his words though that had seemed to break the spell of silence that had befallen the diner and the usual ruckus of Sunday breakfast had resumed.

He never did order anything beyond his coffee nor did he introduce himself, he just sat at the counter surveying the people of the diner over the rim of the tan mug that seemed so tiny in his hands. At the time, it hadn't struck me as odd that he seemed to be paying attention to the rowdy group of bikers in the corner booth. I made sure to top off his cup every time I passed by and I would be warmed to my core by the small, soft smile he would always send my way before it was wiped from his face as he turned to resume studying the occupants of the diner.

It was while I was tending to a particularly difficult group of teenage girls that he had disappeared and I was almost hurt that he'd left without saying goodbye. I had come back to his seat, heart heavy for a reason I didn't quite understand to clear his space of the empty cup and the small carafe of cream, when I saw it. The fresh, crisp hundred dollar note, underneath the saucer. I had looked around, eyes wide, for the mysterious man who had left a ninety eight dollar tip for a two dollar tab.

I didn't find him.

The next day, high ranking members of that biker gang, Los Lobos de Muerte, began to go missing. At first, local law enforcement had chalked it up to natural power struggles that sometimes shook criminal enterprises such as theirs. It wasn't until they began finding the bodies that the meetings that they were having near the end of my closing shifts began to get serious, the lawmen's faces dark and lined with worry and tension.

They had tried to keep their voices down as to not alarm whomever may have been in the diner that late with them, but I always seemed to catch a word here, a phrase there. They had been finding bodies in the woods, bodies that had looked like they had been mangled by something very large and very angry. The grizzled old police chief had looked gray in the face as he had muttered that he hadn't seen anything like this since the Lobos had driven the Vampiros out of town in the early nineties, when he had been a fresh faced homicide detective.

That was the overwhelming fear then, a gang war.

The nights I worked the late shift were not my favorites, as I would have to walk the ten minutes to my small flat alone and in near total darkness, with only the odd streetlight and my cell phone to illuminate my path. Since the bodies had begun being found, it was like I could see the bodies of dead bikers at the backs of my eyelids, my imagination conjuring up vivid and disturbing images of what those scenes must have looked like. I had chalked it up to my wild imagination then too that there was nothing to the feeling of a predatory pair of eyes watching me during my walk home.

My day shifts were a delight. Like clockwork, thirty minutes after my shift would start, he would walk in to the small diner, seat himself in my section, and patiently wait for me to turn my attentions to him. It was on the fourth occasion that I finally learned his name, Aleister Black. It was on the seventh occasion that he had kissed my knuckles goodbye, leaving me with a permanent flush staining my cheekbones and the sensation of walking on air for the rest of the night.

Beneath the cool and intimidating exterior, was a thoughtful and quiet man. He had a carefully articulate opinion on everything, whether it was the news of the day on the old television behind me or which of Luis the cook's pies were better. He was unerringly gentle, or so I thought, and mild mannered. Aleister had told me of growing up in Amsterdam, of his passion for his profession, professional wrestling, and his interest in collecting old vinyl albums. He'd even sought fit to show me personal photos, like those of his small puff cloud of a kitten named Totty Potato and of the wall of flash tattoo art he had slowly been putting together in his home.

I ignored the healing bruises on his knuckles. The faint traces of something rusty brown underneath his trimmed nails and lining his nail beds. The barely there, but still suspicious stains of the same color along the hems of his pants. The small cut below his eye had made me ask questions for a moment, but he had quickly given me a story about tripping while trying to avoid stepping on a mischievous Totty who had gotten underfoot.

We had fallen into an easy routine and I wasn't ashamed to say that I was infatuated by the man. I like to think that we became close during those moments in time, that I had gained a friend whom had the potential to be so much more than a friend.

It all came to a head tonight.

I was invited out by Sarah, one of the other waitresses in the diner, to this house party happening on the outskirts of town which she claimed was hosted by one of her friends. Halloween in our small town wasn't a joyous occasion, as the holiday had been marked by a string of disappearances every year for as long as anyone could seem to remember. The senior citizens in town would warn the young children in town to avoid going into the woods at night, for the things that made those sounds would surely eat them. The teens had found it to be a rite of passage, whoever could get the farthest into the woods would be seen as some sort of hero.

It was as we got older that the woods began to make us wary. On more than once occasion, I thought I had seen something staring back at me, only for it to disappear once I had blinked. I would have been happy to never go near the woods again, but my coworker was insistent. She was a bit of a wild one, always showing up to her shifts late, sometimes still drunk, with a half feral grin on her face.

She insisted on dressing me up as a woodland nymph, all gauzey material and chiffon and wild curls with strategic streaks of gold shimmer and glitter placed all over my body. Sarah had insisted that we'd be indoors all night, that there was no need for a jacket, that the tiny dress and the skyscraper heels were completely appropriate. I had agreed, especially after she had nudged some tequila shots my way.

The trip to the small house where the party was being held passed by in a blur of giggles and tequila. We had taken a cab and I dismissed it as a trick of the light the way her eyes seemed to flash a burning gold every time I would throw my head back to laugh uproariously at whatever joke the cabbie had told us, but when I turned to her with my brow furrowed, there was nothing.

We'd heard the party as we had turned onto the dirt road leading to the house, the bass reverberating in the air. When we had pulled up to the house, it was clear that this was a party unlike any I had seen or attended before. Motorcycles were lined up in a neat row on one side of the driveway but the other side was littered with bodies, some seemingly passed out, others milling and stumbling about.

I didn't have time to think as Sarah grasped my wrist in an iron grip so tight that I was sure it would leave bruises and dragged me from the cab and through the front door, the bass of the music swallowing my protests. She released me as soon as we were in the middle of the writhing dance floor and I had lost myself in the music, undulating and writhing in time with the frantic beat.

There was no concept of time passing, as I giggled and danced with both Sarah and nameless, faceless strangers alike without a care in the world. There was a peculiar energy to the room, something that spoke to the pleasant hum of alcohol in my veins and the primal side of my subconscious that would have terrified me if I had not been so inebriated. I had been enjoying myself with a ridiculously attractive man with long brown hair and a smile that damn near liquefied my panties, when I was pulled away roughly, stumbling backwards. My back was pressed against skin and leather, an all too familiar tattooed arm wrapped possessively around front.

I could see my dance partner's brilliant blue eyes go wide as he put his hands up in surrender and I could feel the rumble of growled words, which sent the other man retreating into the crowd with his proverbial tail tucked between his legs and Sarah was practically beaming, the light playing that trick again where her eyes appeared gold and maniacal.

"Do you like her Aleister? I got her just for you, just for tonight! She's perfect!"

He would have responded, I could feel the growl from his chest down to my core, but both he and the music were cut off by a pulse of energy that made every hair stand on end and every instinct in me screamed to run. I would have taken off if it weren't for his arm banding tighter around my chest as a cry went up around the room. Oh God, it was not a trick of the light.

The vast majority of the partygoers had those same golden eyes, their faces shifting ever so slightly to something sharper and more predatory, and all the attention was focused on me. I stiffened with fear, trembling something terrible and it felt like I had been dunked into a tub of ice water, sobriety hitting me like a freight train. No one dared to make a move though they did stare hungrily at me and I felt pinpricks in my hip... Were those claws?!

I could feel the tall man behind me shift on his feet, leaning down to whisper into my ear, though instinctually I knew that everyone in the room could hear his words like they were shouted.

"Stay close to me and no one will touch you. Just think of this as a game, katje. I will take care of you."

I had barely nodded my head when he barked at the horde of partygoers to go outside and they followed obediantly and without question, though Sarah seemed to linger amongst the last to leave, her face filled with malice and triumph. Aleister waited until everyone had shuffled outside to whirl me around, his normal sharp blue eyes suddenly a startling burning amber and the rough palms of his hands braced on my shoulders to keep me in place.

"Listen to me and listen to me closely because there isn't much time. You are precious to me and this was not the way I wanted this to be. You are going to see and experience things tonight that I wouldn't wish for you. I will do my best to shield you from the worst of it, katje, but you must promise me this. You must not let anyone catch you once it starts. Get out of the woods and to the road as fast as you can."

I blinked glibly, trying to process what exactly was going on.

"I-I don't understand, what is happening Aleister? I'm scared, this isn't like you and what is happening with your eyes?"

His nostrils flared as he took a deep inhale, the pupils of his now gold eyes blowing wide as I could make out the nervous bobbing of his Adam's apple through his beard. His hands tightened on my shoulders and he leaned in close, his eye contact unwavering. Aleister was close, oh so close, wearing nothing but a leather vest with intricate patches in a foreign language and strange symbols and a pair of dark jeans that had too have been painted on. The heat was radiating off of him and soaking into my cold with fear body.

"I can smell the tequila you had before you came here. I can smell the whiskey that Cole drank before he started to dance with you. I know that your boss at the diner yells at you if you're not early to your shift in the office. I know you're terrified out your mind right now. I'm asking you to trust me and do what I say. I will explain as much as I can."

The earnestness of his words and the honesty in his eyes had me nodding in assent before I had even realized what I had done. I couldn't take it back, as he had grasped me by the hand, interlacing our fingers, and pulled me to the backyard.

As soon as we had crossed the threshold, a cacophony of cries and howls went into the air, the blood thirst suddenly and painfully clear. Whatever warmth that had been imparted on me by Aleister's closeness had been chased away yet again by the ice cold wave of fear that pumped through my system. Sarah was there, at the front of the crowd, looking feral and hungry, ruthless glee clear in her body language.

The man next to me raised his hand and the din quieted instantaneously.

"This one, she is mine to hunt. Only mine. The bitch who brought her here though..."

This wasn't the Aleister who had comforted me inside. This wasn't the quiet and gentle man who kept me company during my shifts. This was the man I had caught glimpses of that first time he had strolled into town: powerful, commanding, and cold. His claiming words sent a shiver of fear and... anticipation? down my spine. The horde of people in the back turned their hungry gazes to Sarah, who's face went pale and fearful.

"She will be the first sacrifice to Herne tonight."

A victorious chorus of yips went up as the group moved as a single unit to surround Sarah, her cries for mercy and pleads barely audible. There was a primordial electricity in the air and it was affecting everyone, some sort of shift overtaking everyone. It was that first cry of pain from the center of the group that made the watchful Aleister turn to me and order me to run.

Do not let me catch you. It's a game. Just - it's a game. Please... Please, don't let me catch you. I don't want to win this game, not now.

He was different, like he was bursting through his skin and could barely contain his energy. His teeth were bared and sharper than I remembered. I needed no other provocation, kicking off the tower like heels and taking off into the woods, screams and the sickeningly wet sound of flesh tearing following me.

I could see him at the corners of my eyes, alternating between from running on all fours like an animal and running faster than should be possible on two legs. It was hell trying to not think about the forest floor cutting into my feet, thorns and stones having cut the soles of my feet open and bloody long ago. I knew he was toying with me, getting close enough to growl  my name or breaking twigs, just to drive me further into my panic. It was when he reached out to touch my arm, that I knew I was done for.

The sudden touch to the back of my arm startled me just enough that it broke my concentration on the path in front of me and I tripped heavily over an exposed tree root. The impact of the fall drove the air out of my lungs as pain bloomed in my hands  and forearms. Not one second later, Aleister was upon me, flipping me over to face him as he loomed over my body, his knees bracketing my hips and his hands pinning my wrists to the ground.

"I'm sorry. katje. I didn't want it like this, didn't want to hurt you. This... I'm not strong enough to fight this. The call, the magick is too strong."

It was at this point that I realized he was completely naked and... painfully aroused if the heavy length pressing into my abdomen was anything to go on. Whatever magick had taken a hold of him, was beginning to affect me, a warm and pleasant tingle starting at my extremities and working towards my center, the buzz in my veins competing with my fear in a way that was maddening.

"You said that this was just a game."

He shook his head wildly, hair slick with sweat.

"Its the Hunt. Once a year... I'm so sorry, it's too much for even me to resist."

What possessed me to crane upwards and brush my lips against his still baffles me, as did my words, "I trust you. Take what you need."

He groaned and then his hands were everywhere.

The fabric of my dress and my undergarments shredded underneath his grip and his mouth was leaving violent, open mouthed and bruising kisses along my neck and chest, teeth digging in hard enough to leave imprints of his too sharp to be human canines. The buzz of the Hunt magick was pumping through my veins, fanning the small embers of arousal into something almost painful.

He'd shifted so that my legs were around his hips and the blunt head of himself was brushing up against my slick core, catching in a way that drove little gasps out of me and sent my hips rutting upwards like I was in heat. His grip around my wrists was painful as he growled a warning to be careful, but I paid no mind, the haze of magick having already driven the sense from my body. It took several tries, but I finally rolled my hips in such a way that I caught the tip of his cock at my entrance and then I pushed my hips upward to impale myself on as much of him as I could.

Aleister barked at the sudden penetration, but wasn't caught off guard for long, driving himself into me with a force that sent all the air out of my lungs and my eyes wide. He was a force of nature then, pistoning himself in and out of me at a merciless pace, his teeth bared in my face. I was a creature of sensation, mewling and whining and screaming with every thrust.

I made the mistake of, in the foggy red haze of lust and pleasure, of raising my hips to meet Aleister's. He apparently took it as a challenge to his masculinity because I blinked and I was on all fours, with his hand gripping my hair painfully tight and his teeth drawing blood in my shoulder blade. I wasn't sure if it was his teeth or the feel of him impossibly deep in me or some sort of combination of both but my voice was driven from me and I had no choice but to claw at the dirt and pant under his body's assault of mine.

The coil that had been tightening in me at a too rapid pace was at the verge of snapping when he reached between us to pinch at the little bundle of nerves just above where we were joined and I screamed as my vision went white.  Neither the tremors that wracked my body or the way that my internal walls clung to him greedily seemed to slow Aleister down and I was soon just a raw and exposed nerve ending of pleasure.

My memory of what happened after that was spotty. I know  that we spent several hours rolling around on the forest floor, taking our fill of one another in the most primal and carnal of ways. Even through the red haze of the Hunt magick and lust, I could vaguely recall a tall, impossibly tall man, with hair as red as fire and the most beautiful of antlers watching us almost proudly before disappearing within a blink of an eye.

I woke up to the sun peeking through my windows, completely naked but clean, in my own bed. I was sore, painfully so, but my cuts were cleaned and my poor feet bandaged. Next to me on the night stand was an overly large bottle of water, three protein bars, and a carefully folded note. My body screamed, every inch of skin seemingly bruised and every muscle shaking from over exertion, as I rolled across the queen bed to reach the note.

We need to talk. I will be at your home at nightfall.

Herne was among us last night.

Aleister. xx

TAG TRAIN: 

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#aleister black imagine #aleister black smut #aleister black fic #31 little wrestling fics

[lobocomicsandtoys]

WEAPON X #15

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, OLD MAN LOGAN! •  It's a surprise party for Old Man Logan - and the only thing Sabretooth got him is an ass whuppin'! •  With the rest of their crew on a much needed shore leave, Sabretooth and Old Man Logan are left to their own devices: sixteen Adamantium claws and berserker rage! •  Don't miss Old Man Logan versus Sabretooth in their first knock-down, drag-out fight to the death!

Available at Lobo Comics & Toys this coming Wednesday, 03/14/2018

visit us on facebook, google+, blogspot, our eBay store, and our website

#weapon x #old man logan #wolverine #logan #happy birthday old man logan #marvel #marvel comics #marvel legacy #lobo #lobo comics and toys #lobo comics #comics #toys #comic #albuquerque #new mexico #comic shop in new mexico #comic shop in albuquerque #comic store in new mexico #comic store in albuquerque

[dukech]

Spring 2018

1/19 - Lord RAJA // DJ Bitchcraft

1/27 - Tashi Dorji + Crowmeat Bob / Jil C. / Ginger Wagg / Reptile Room

2/16 - Alright // Naked Naps // TBA

2/22 - Wailin Storms / Vincas / Night Battles

2/24 - Drag Sounds, Sunny Slopes, North by North (CHI), Poor Pie

3/6 - Combo Chimbita // Chócala

3/19 - Yamantaka // Sonic Titan | Tundrastomper

3/28 - Susan Alcorn // Sandy Ewen

3/24 - Daniel Bachman // Will Csorba & Cameron Knowler

3/31 - Loamlands // Nana Grizol

+ ++ +

Fall 2016

SEPTEMBER 16: Darkmatter Poetry Night

SEPTEMBER 27: SIGNALS MIDWEST w/ TIGERDOG

SEPTEMBER 28: XENIA RUBINOS w/ LUXE POSH

SEPTEMBER 30: HECTORINA w/ THE WYRMS and BRETT HARRIS

OCTOBER 4: BUENO w/ EVEL ARC

OCTOBER 5: WHITNEY w/ HOOPS

OCTOBER 6: NOTS w/ THE WORLD

+ ++ +

Spring 2016

Monday, Jan 18: ORCHID SUN AND SEA GHOST

Friday, Jan. 22 LONNIE HOLLEY

Feb. 16: SUN SEEKER with CRUSHED OUT

Feb. 17: LOONE and PAPER BEE

Feb. 18: Sendolo Diaminah “Abolition, Strategy and the Practice of Freedom”

Feb. 20: THE KNEADS with STRAY OWLS

Feb. 29: RICK MAGUIRE (PILE) w/ LOOK A GHOST

March 4: Eric and Erica ::: Del Sur ::: Cottontail

March 9: Duke Coffeehouse presents: WARM WOMEN

March 21: Duke Coffeehouse presents THIN LIPS

March 25:Hanz, housefire, Matt Stevenson, GNØER : presented by Moogfest and WXDU

MARCH 28: CROWN LARKS with KNIVES OF SPAIN

APRIL 2: Maple Stave / The Powder Room / City of Medicine 

+ ++ +

Fall 2015

Thurs 9/24 HEMLINES with PATOIS COUNSELORS

Mon 10/05 BIKE COPS with LOOK A GHOST https://www.facebook.com/events/495504043958287/

Thurs 10/08 WILLIS EARL BEAL and CRATER https://www.facebook.com/events/452790994905523/

Thurs 10/15 Global Brazil Lab Presents: Caique Vidal & Batuque

Fri 10/16: Duke Coffeehouse presents: THE STORYTELLERS BAND

Sun 10/18: PIE FACE GIRLS + FISH DAD + SPACE CHUMPY + HERMIT PAPESS

Sun 10/25 talk on THE MUSIC & WORK PROJECT

Wed 10/28 EXPLORING CLASS AND CLASSISM WORKSHOP (MOVED TO WHITE LECTURE HALL) https://www.facebook.com/events/1598418537087321/

Wed 10/28 VERY HAUNTED HOUSE PARTY

Frid 10/30 Duke Coffeehouse Presents… LIVE! ON STAGE: JONATHAN RICHMAN featuring TOMMY LARKINS

Sun 11/1 FREE PIZZA (the band) with BAND & THE BEAT

11/3 FEVER THE GHOST with *** JENNY BESETZT ***

11/7 YOUNG MAMMALS with ALRIGHT

11/14 wxdu presents; BODYKIT // DRIPPY INPUTS // HOUSEFIRE // LIQUID ASSET // SPONGE BATH

11/18 FLORIST and HELLO SHARK

+ ++ +

Spring 2015

January 24: TURQUOISE JEEP with PROFESSOR TOON and BARF TROOP 

January 25: ET AL. with STRAY OWLS 

January 29: Almost People EP Release Show W/ WolvesX4, Invaluable, A Bottle Volcanic, Sunnydale 

January 30: PAINTED ZEROS W/ WOOL 

February 10: INTO IT OVER IT + KEVIN DEVINE + LAURA STEVENSON 

February 18: RIVERGAZER + SMALL WONDER 

March 25: DEERHOOF + PERFECT PUSSY + SEE GULLS 

March 28: BRICKSIDE FESTIVAL 2015 

April 5:  THE NERVOUS TICKS with NATURAL CAUSES and WAHYAS 

April 16: BELLOWS and SHARPLESS

Fall 2014 

September 1: PART TIME + SEA LIONS + DADDY ISSUES 

September 9: TEEN SUICIDE and ELVIS DEPRESSEDLY 

October 3: EMPTY DISCO with MADEYLN JOHNSON 

October 6: QUILLA with ENGLAND IN 1819 

October 7: KRILL with LAST YEAR’S MEN and BUTTERCUP 

October 15: FRANKIE COSMOS + PORCHES. 

October 18: J FERNANDEZ with THE LOWEST PAIR 

October 27: WALTER MITTY & HIS MAKESHIFT ORCHESTRA with CHUMPED and MICHAEL CASEY 

October 30: SAUNA HEAT with WAHYA’S 

November 4: SPOONBOY with EMILYN BRODSKY and COTTONTAIL 

November 10: GUANTANAMO BAYWATCH plus SILENT LUNCH with DEL VENICCI

+ ++ +

Spring 2014 

January 22: MYKKI BLANCO + QUILLA at DUKE COFFEEHOUSE 

January 25: LEE BAINS III & THE GLORY FIRES + TURF WAR at DUKE COFFEEHOUSE 

February 10: NOBUNNY + The HUSSY + FRUIT at DUKE COFFEEHOUSE 

February 16: BLEEDING RAINBOW + WOOL + SILENT LUNCH at DUKE COFFEEHOUSE 

March 5: SEAN NICHOLAS SAVAGE + JENNY BESETZT 

March 7: WXDU Local Music Series: SOLAR HALOS, MOUNTAIN THROWER, RUSCHA 

March 22: LIQUOR STORE + BOHICA at DUKE COFFEEHOUSE 

March 28: WXDU Local Music Series: HEADS ON STICKS and DRAG SOUNDS  

March 29: DOLFISH + MAX STERN (of Signals Midwest, Meridian) at DUKE COFFEEHOUSE 

March 30: SLAM FOR SYRIA 

April 3: WOODSMAN at DUKE COFFEEHOUSE 

April 5: NANA GRIZOL + JASON ANDERSON + COTTONTAIL at DUKE COFFEEHOUSE 

April 10: MAC DEMARCO + JUAN WAUTERS + SEE GULLS at DUKE COFFEEHOUSE 

April 11: MIRACLES OF MODERN SCIENCE at DUKE COFFEEHOUSE 

April 13: HORSE FEATHERS at DUKE COFFEEHOUSE

+ ++ +

Fall 2013

September 14: MARISSA NADLER + ORGANOS at DUKE COFFEEHOUSE 

September 16:  NESEY GALLONS + REAL LIVE TIGERS + GOLD LIGHT at DUKE COFFEEHOUSE 

September 23: Duke Coffeehouse & WXDU Present: CALVIN JOHNSON + BANANA LAZULI at DUKE COFFEEHOUSE 

October 6: DENT MAY + DEAD GAZE at DUKE COFFEEHOUSE 

October 7: BURGERAMA: GAP DREAM + TOGETHER PANGEA + COSMONAUTS + HABIBI at DUKE COFFEEHOUSE 

October 18: KOOL A.D. + DAY JOB at DUKE COFFEEHOUSE 

October 20: Duke Coffeehouse & WXDU Present: WILLIAM TYLER + WOWOLFOL at DUKE COFFEEHOUSE 

October 23: YIP DECEIVER + WILD MOCCASINS at DUKE COFFEEHOUSE 

November 1: EROS AND THE ESCHATON + PINK FLAG at DUKE COFFEEHOUSE 

November 3: JETZT COLLECTIVE + CREEPOID + NAKED NAPS 

November 4: DIARRHEA PLANET + THE LOVELY BAD THINGS + MUSEUM MOUTH + REBUILDER at DUKE COFFEEHOUSE 

November 13: SAINT RICH + ARROWS OUT at DUKE COFFEEHOUSE 

November 16: NETHERFRIENDS + AISHA BURNS + HOLY BOATS at DUKE COFFEEHOUSE 

December 5: MARIA MINERVA + SEE GULLS + FRUIT + ++ + Spring 2013 January Friday 1.18: Bleeding Rainbow + Jenny Besetz 

Saturday 1.19: The Growlers + The Coathangers 

Tuesday 1.29: The Music Tapes Present: The Traveling Imaginary February 

Friday 2.15: Psychic Ills 

Friday 2.22: Beloved Binge + Ponchos + Ellertronic 

Friday 2.25: Lobo Marino

March Sunday 3.3: Waxahatchee + Museum Mouth 

Wednesday 3.19: Londi, free! 

Monday 3.25: Austin Vaughn, Christopher Pierce, William Darity 

Wednesday 3.27: Auburn Kettle, Blanko Basnet, Prypyat, Lowland Hum + ++ + Fall 2012 August Thursday 8.30: The Bronzed Chorus, The Winter Sounds, Crystal Bright and the Silver Hands 

September Saturday 9.1: O’Death, Joy In Red, $5Wednesday 9.12: Cheap Time, Last Year’s Men, Johnny Staxx and the Durty Boyz 

Wednesday 9.12: Cheap Time, Last Year’s Men, Johnny Staxx and the Durty Boyz 

Friday 9.14: Blues Control, Judson Claiborne, My Empty Phantom 

Wednesday 9.19: Mount Eerie, Ghost to Falco, Hungry Cloud Darkening 

Friday 9.28: Shy Hunters, Twilighter 

Saturday 9.29: Paleface, Luego

October Friday 10.5:   The Yawpers, Sinners & Saints, Sam Lee 

Friday 10.19: Dastardly, Jared Bartman

Sunday 10.21: Turbo Fruits, Dignan Porch

Wednesday 10.24: King Tuff, The Intelligence, Whatever Brains 

Friday 10.26: Margot & the Nuclear So and So’s, Gentleman Caller

Sunday 10.28: Jeffrey Lewis & the Junkyard, Dolfish, Cottontail

Tuesday 10.30: Hop Along, Celebrity Jeopardy

Fall 2012 November Friday 11.30: Wooden Wand

December Saturday 12.1: Party: HYSTERIA 

Monday 12.3: Razia Said + ++ + Spring 2012 

February Wednesday 2.1: Liturgy, Kolyma 

Saturday 2.11: Dex Romweber Duo, Spider Bags 

Saturday 2.18: Ted Leo, Mac McCaughan 

Friday and Saturday 2.24-25: Local Music Festival March Saturday 3.17: Mipso Trio 

Friday 3.23: The Golden Boys, John Wesley Coleman, Spider Bags 

Saturday 3.24: Brickside Music Festival ft. Kurt Vile, Mark Kozelek, Horse Feathers, the Postelles, etc. 

April Friday 4.6: Alex Kotch 

Thursday 4.19: Blabbermouth (a poetic sing-song-type bonanza) 

Saturday 4.21: Free Energy w/ Deleted Scenes & Cigarette + ++ + Fall 2011 September Friday 9.16: Two Gallants, The Mumlers, Bloodroots Barter 

Saturday 9.24: WXDU presents Ty Segall, Mikal Cronin 

October Saturday 10.1: WXDU’s Annual Record Fair, 11AM-4PM 

Saturday 10.1: Soft Company with Jews and Catholics 

Friday 10.14: Ground Up, Toon 

Saturday 10.15: Holiday Shores 

Thursday 10.27: Duke Islamic Studies Center & the Duke University Middle Eastern Studies Center presents Omar Offendum 

November Friday 11:4: Small Town Records Release Party 

Saturday 11.5: The Beets, Christmas 

Sunday 11.6: BDU Presents… F to eMbody- Athens Boys Choir and Katastrophe 

Friday 11.11:  Fanghole, Bronzed Chorus, Man Ray 

Thursday 11.17 Duke University Improv 

Friday 11.19: Jeffrey Lewis & The Junkyard, Matt Northrup December 

Thursday 12.1 DJ /rupture, Lemonade 

Friday 12:2: Cotton Jones, Some Army

+

++ + Spring 2011 

January Tuesday 1.25: Duke Performances presents “Listening with The Bad Plus,” 

Friday 1.28: Turbo Fruits, The Mercators, Tea & Tempests 

February Thursday 2.10: Baths, BRAIDS, Blackbird Blackbird 

Saturday 2.19: Michael & His Garden, Tea & Tempests, Fanghole 

Friday 2.25: PILE, Screaming Crayons 

Saturday 2.26: WXDU presents: Bomb the Music Industry!, Ascetic Parade March 

Friday 3.18: Duke Performances presents “Listening with The Kronos Quartet” 

Saturday 3.19: The Huguenots, Bright Young Things 

Thursday 3.24: The Joy Formidable, The Lonely Forest, Mona 

April Friday 4.1: WXDU presents: Jeffrey Lewis & The Junkyard, The Wigg Report, Billy Sugarfix 

Friday 4.15: WXDU presents: An Evening with Southern Culture on the Skids  

Saturday 4.16: Ghost to Falco, Aan, Prisms 

Monday 4.18: Hunx and his Punx, Shannon and the Clams, Last Year’s Men 

Saturday 4.23: Oh No! Oh My!, LAKE, AgesandAges + ++ + Fall 2010 

September Friday 9.17: Embarrassing Fruits CD Release ft. sets from Midtown Dickens and Lonnie Walker 

Monday 9.20: Andrew Jackson Jihad, Blunt Mechanic 

Tuesday 9.21: Titus Andronicus, Free Energy 

Friday 9.25: Tera Melos, Trash Crusade 

October Friday 10.1: A Place to Bury Strangers, Carol Cleveland Sings, ROAR, $10 

Friday 10.8: Wovenhand, Serena Maneesh 

Saturday 10.16: Veelee Future Sight Bash! with Cassis Orange and Old Bricks 

Saturday 10.23: Spider Bags and Last Year’s Men Double Release Party! with Americans in France 

Wednesday 10.27: Cheap Girls, Carpenter, Laura Stevenson and the Cans 

Thursday 10.28: Bars of Gold, IMPORTANT CHANGE: THIS SHOW WILL INSTEAD BE COFFEEHOUSE SPONSORED AT THE PINHOOK, with Come Hell or High Water, and Pinche Gringo 

Friday 10.29: Asimina Chremos, Khristian Weeks, Andrew Weathers, Secret Boyfriend  

Saturday 10.30: WXDU Who’s Got the Cuckoo??! 5-year Garage Rock celebration!

#archive

[franciium]

A Ripped Page of the Forbidden Tomes: A Literal Idiom

After replying to @bookwormally‘s comment over Ghreyis, I’ve decided to write a short fic over the embarrassing moment in my snarky doggo’s past that was the ‘flimsy bow’ incident.

A/N: This takes place before Lunette and Ghreyis are together; a year into Ghreyis being the Right-Hand.

It was somewhat rare to find the lone Empress lingering around the castle without any sort of paperwork in her company. Usually it was an invitation to a party she could care less about, some sort of treaty with outrageous demands that couldn’t be met, or another anonymous–at least until Ghreyis hounds them down–letter written in crimson with the threat of violence or death. Usually it was the latter, of which Lunette chuckles hollowly to herself considering her special 'condition’.

That being said, the fact that Ghreyis found themselves being studied with those golden, curious eyes said that this was one of those rare occasions.

What could possibly interest the dragon so much over something as simple as the action of sharpening the Right-Hand’s many knives?

“…My Empress, I am to assume your long, unnerving stare means you have a sort of question to accompany it.”

Not that the Lobos was truly unnerved by the Empress’ stare. With how those orbs of golden yellow seemed to shine, and how she would tilt her head when she leaned against her hand whenever interest was to be had, Ghreyis found it endearing.

But the fact that their Empress hadn’t moved an inch and continued to stare at them, deep in thought, the Right-Hand felt a bit concerned.

There was no scent of fear or anxiety of sorts that often more than not lingered with the dragon. But the fact that she wordlessly slipped into a seat beside them and just silently stared said that something was quite off.

Had it been an illness, Ghreyis would be unable to detect it by scent, and by the Moon, they hoped it wasn’t the case.

With a few blinks of her eyes, Lunette hummed to herself, looking down at one of the many knives laid out on the table. She paused for a few momentary seconds, unintentionally putting the Right-Hand a little on edge if only out of concern.

“I was wondering…or rather…” The Empress dragged out the last word of her sentence until it tuned out into silence.

“ 'How To Kill Your Subjects With Suspense’, an instructional book written by our dear Lunarian Empress.” Ghreyis snorted, watching the Empress’ eyes change from a thoughtful look into a slight glare of annoyance. Of course, it wasn’t to intentionally annoy her, but rather as a means to snap Lunette’s focus away from her train of thoughts. And, though they would not outwardly admit it, to ease the growing concerns the Right-Hand had over the Empress.

“I was just going to say that I noticed I’ve only ever seen you use throwing knives and the occasional dagger. Nothing else.”

Ghreyis blinked their eyes, a slight relief washing over them but now lingered their own sense of curiosity. It seemed she had more to follow up on than simply her statement of their choice in weaponary.

“My Empress, if you suspect me of hiding some sort of burning super-death sword up my ass, I am sorry to disappoint but my cavity is not outrageously large and magically protected enough to keep one in such a place.”

A bit of a restrained smile appeared upon Lunette’s face before it broke out into a full on grin followed by bouts of laughter. When her chuckles finally died down, Lunette readjusted herself in her seat. This time with her fully leaning against the backrest, with one leg propped up over the other in a bow-like fashion and her arms crossed over her chest.

“Are you sure?” The dragon gave a teasing smile, earning a slight quirk of the lips on the normally straightfaced Lobos.

“I assure you, My Empress, if I could, I would.” They wouldn’t. Too much of a hassle when they could just pawn off the sword to the damnable horned witch. They were sure they would find some weird use for it.

“But DO you use a sword?”

“Only once when I was coming into my prior line of work. A big novice mistake of which involved a younger Ghreyis tossing knives about like they were pebbles rather making calculated strikes.”

That had been back when they were a teenager–possibly fifteen or sixteen at the time–and boy did Ghreyis learned their lesson real quick after that mishap. Luckily, the target’s serving hands were far lousy at attacking than the teenage Lobos was with a heavy, gem-encrusted sword they had pulled off from above the fireplace.

“But to answer fully, no, I do not use swords. Both one-handed and two-handed.”

After a few strokes of the whetstone against the blade, Ghreyis looked over the knife from the hilt before nodding their head in approval at the sharpness. They placed it down with the many others, resting them against the strip of leather before picking up another dulled knife to continue their tireless work.

“Too heavy?”

“Too much of a hassle to lug around with my other belongings. Have you ever actually held one before, My Empress? Or even had to use one?”

Lunette narrowed her eyes at the Right-Hand, giving them a long, hard stare. Of course, Ghreyis had to just forget about the incident; specifically involving the escape from the Royal Tombs of the Divine Lady’s Temple with the sword of her ancestor in hand.

The day of which the Lunarian Princess proved her birthright by rising from the dead and envoking wrath upon the tyrant false king. A story told amongst her people as if it were a foretold prophecy, but one which Lunette was still touchy about.

“…Er, stupid question. My sincere apologies, My Empress.”

“Very.” Lunette concluded before turning her head away from Ghreyis’ presence, causing the Lobos’ ears to slowly droop at the sight.

If there was ever a time Ghreyis wanted to shove a knife up their ass, this would be the most opportuned moment to.

“I…also do not use halberds or any sort of pole-arms such as yourself.” The conversation was carried on if only to hope to get Lunette’s mind off the topic. The Right-Hand especially disliked being counted as one of the people who brought on those terrible memories even if it was indirectly.

“Oh…?” The infliction in the dragon’s voice wasn’t that of curiosity, but more of a means to make them continue even if she was refusing to face them.

“Same reason as the sword. Too heavy and unskilled in them. Never had to use one before, and if I had to, chances are…I might incidentally cause more harm to myself if anything.”

A snort could be heard from the Empress’ direction, to which Ghreyis’ ears perked up and tail slightly wagging. Though Lunette was still not facing him, it was a good sign to say the least.

“That would be an amusing sight. You barely being able to lift one off the ground, I mean. Not the 'getting hurt’ part.”

Even knowing that she had been used, lied to, stabbed by the one she once loved, and her kingdom left in ruins by his hands, Lunette couldn’t bring herself to bring harm upon the tyrant that was her 'husband’. Many would seek vengeance–that of which Ghreyis has known of and played a hand in–but Lunette did not.

It bothered the Right-Hand, though not in the way of which they disagreed with the Empress’ choice in action. Rather it bothered them in a way where they–having fully committed to the role of Right-Hand out of curiosity–still had no answers to the lingering question:

Why?

It wasn’t that Lunette has not killed or used violence before. Ghreyis has bore witness to such being that they had been their Right-Hand for almost over a year now. But it was always out of defense or to ward away would-be killers. Never out of vengeance or to simply 'quiet’ someone.

It was this alone that peaked the interest of the once-wandering mercenary over the lone Empress. An interest that eventually grew into affection for said Lunarian royal that they had some difficulty keeping under wraps for the sake of duty and professionalism.

“So, if not pole-arms and swords…” Lunette hummed to herself in thoughtfulness. “What about bows?”

Ghreyis’ tail stilled and ears stand on full alert, fully silent to the point of having Lunette finally turning her head to face them. If only to look upon the Lobos who gave her no answers to her question, or even a snarky comment.

Just complete silence.

“…Ghreyis?” She called to them, watching them blink before clearing their throat.

“…No.”

“…No…?”

“No, I don’t use bows.”

“But you have used them at least once, right? After all, you did a lot of assassination before then.”

“…”

It wasn’t that Ghreyis couldn’t answer her question fully. It was more along the lines of not wanting to answer as it would ruin what image they had worked to present before the people. Or in this case, possibly being the laughingstock to their Empress should she be told of their rather embarrassing past.

Running out of knives and using a decorated sword was one thing that Ghreyis had no problems telling. After all, they were simply a novice at the time and a teenager to say the least.

But this specific incident that the Right-Hand hoped to avoid at all cost was when they were more seasoned in their line of work. An adult, and something that happened not too long ago.

Specifically two years ago, during the long winter months in the Lapina countryside, Ghreyis was given a target of elimination. The target was a double-crossing rich merchant who had ratted out both competing merchants to the authorities in exchange of a hold of their weath. Both companies were owned by this single merchant alone while the other two were jailed and in the process of being persecuted for their illegality. Whatever the two jailed merchants were involved to get themselves jailed, Ghreyis could care less about it.

Surprisingly, it was not one of the two jailed merchants that had given them the contract in the first place. Rather it was the husband of the double-crossing merchant who wished to take the large fortune for themselves.

'Make it look like an accident! Better yet, make it so it looks like a mugging gone south real quick!’

And so, armed with a bow, a few arrows, and hallucinogenic poison, Ghreyis climbed the old tower none to far from the town square. They soaked the poison into the pointed end and docked it, awaiting the target to appear in sight.

The plan was simple enough:

Step 1: Lure a criminal–scouted out prior to this plan taking place–to the town square.

Step 2: Wait for the target to make their rounds in the designated area.

Step 3: Wait for the criminal to approach the target–to which Ghreyis had more or less nudged them into letting them know that the merchant was bathing in mountains of gold.

Step 4: Take the shot with the poison arrow, and watch the whole entire scene unfold.

Step 5: Subdue the criminal and retrieve the arrow that could be used as evidence.

That’s how it should have gone.

But what really happened threw Ghreyis’ carefully crafted plan right out the proverbial window.

The criminal that was supposed to follow the merchant and harass them for gold was stopped by a guard on separate charges. That already scraped two of their first three steps to the plan.

Then the target happened to show up late to the designated area, and took a differing path to the usual one of which their husband had told them. That ruined the second step to their plan.

But Ghreyis wasn’t one for back-up plans. And in this case, it was lodging their poison arrow into some random poor passerbyer that happened to be closest to their target.

Of course, that too had to be tossed right now when a sudden large crowd swept up the target and made the mecenary lose sight of them.

By the time Ghreyis was able to locate the target again, they just HAD to disappear below the many tented stalls in the alleyway.

Whatever higher beings there was out there that was cursing the day Ghreyis walked the earth, sure was having a real laugh at their chain of misfortune.

The Lobos mercenary was losing their patience and decided to simply target the lone bystander they were able to spot amongst the exposed untented areas. It might not be the set up they would have wished and they would cause more destruction of public property before finally striking the intended target, but it would have to do.

But during that split second of Ghreyis releasing the arrow from their bow, a sound coming from below their position caught the mercenary’s attention. And without even thinking, Ghreyis looked down out of instinct, tilting the front half of their body downwards to peer, docking the arrow right into their right foot.

With a howl of pain, Ghreyis lifted the injured foot, only forgetting to realize that the tower’s ledge was iced over, causing the Lobos mercenary to lose their footing and tumble down.

Object after solid object, the mercenary’s body hit them all on the way down, hissing out curses upon impact. It may have slowed down their landing–of which Ghreyis didn’t doubt they would possibly die had they not slam into said objects–but boy do they hurt like hell.

Finally Ghreyis’ fall stopped on one of the tented stalls, bouncing in recoil of the fabric-material roof. For sure, the Lobos mercenary thought they were safe…until they realized the growing shadow overhead of what appears to be the gargoyle statue they undoubtably broke off upon their impact with it.

More curses followed from Ghreyis as they scrambled to get away, only managing to avoid its impact upon the tent, ripping the fabric and bringing the entire stall down with it in an instant. This included Ghreyis who fell rather ungracefully on top of the fallen gargoyle.

Pieces of wood lay scattered across the ground, the poles that held up the fabric roof were snapped in half, and the striped fabric roof drapped over the destructive mess like a sad attempt at hiding pile of dirt under a rug.

Ghreyis muttered out a few more curses, reaching to pull themselves off the ground. However, their hands met something wet and warm to which the Lobos mercenary looked to its source.

Laying in a splattered, crumpled mess under the gargoyle was the double-crossing merchant; unmoving and most likely dead from the impact of the fallen stone structure. And if this merchant WASN’T dead from the impact, perhaps the copious amount of blood seeping onto the cobblestone road should be enough of a forewarning that they would die from blood loss.

Ghreyis would have spent this time celebrating after spending all that time struggling to kill what should have been an easy target. However, no doubt the guards have already heard the commotion in the alleyway and were on their way to investigate. Ghreyis had to leave the scene quickly…or as quick as they could considering the copious amount of injuries and the more obvious one sticking out of their foot like a sore thumb.

What followed after this involved a lot of muffled yowls of pain, cussing, a lot of trees being punched out of hallucinations caused by the poison, and one big fat lie Ghreyis had to drum up in order to get the arrow removed at the nearest clinic.

Never again would they ever use bows in their line of work.

“–yis? Ghreyis!”

The Right-Hand jolted out of their thoughts, ears standing tall and alert as they stared straight into the Empress’ eyes. Realizing she had their attention finally, she gave a slight frown to the Lobos, tilting her head to the side.

“Are you okay? You looked really unnerved by something for a good few seconds there.”

“I…”

“…You can tell me if you want. I might understand.”

By the Moon, how could Ghreyis even begin to tell her about that little arrow incident?

No, never. They could never know.

“…Bows are flimsy pieces of shit.”

Lunette gave them a perplexed look, but deciding to simply let it go. If Ghreyis didn’t want to talk about it, then she wouldn’t push them any further to.

“Uhh, okay then.” Getting up from her seat, the Empress stretched out her arms and patted the Right-Hand on top of their head. Something she often did only to them whenever she was about to leave. “I should go check in on the others. Don’t shoot yourself in the foot over it, alright?”

Ghreyis froze, tailing puffing up and left eye twitching.

“…I won’t, My Empress.”

#forbidden tomes #this is also kind of me writing their characters and how they are #Ghreyis is so crushing hard on Lunette but is all like 'no! Duty first!' #just kiss the damn dragon already you dumb doggo

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Multipurpose WordPress Portfolio Themes TopNotch Themes | Templified

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Multipurpose WordPress Portfolio Themes TopNotch Themes

Okay, We’re back with another round of awesome WordPress themes, these are handy to use as can be.  These WordPress portfolio themes are built strong, offer thousands of amazing features and they’re ultimately customizable.  Check them out, some of the best themes around in 2018!

EcoShop

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SuperFood

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Lobo

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Impreza

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