#johnny boy ;; visage

[b1rds3ye]

Mask On

How the boys react to their new ally who is more adamant on wearing their mask than Ghost himself.

Characters: Captain John Price, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

GN!Reader w/ no physical descriptions (except shorter than Ghost)

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 3.1 (~0.8 each)

Warning: Canon-Typical Violence, Mentions of Reader potentially having insecurities, Not Proof Read

A/N: You know what maybe I want to be the badass masked character 😤

Captain John Price

The captain is thorough, and he immediately knew something was up when he looked up your file only to be greeted with no photo. He’s honestly a little peeved that his rank doesn’t grant him this confidential information, he’s known Simon before he took up the mask so this is the first time he’s genuinely had a faceless ally

But ultimately, as long as he can trust that you’ll be following orders, he doesn’t care if you have a mask or not. But his concern is only that for a fellow soldier

It takes a little longer for him to warm up to you - facial expressions tell a lot about someone’s character. He’s a bit prickly around you, he learns about you indirectly with how you interact with the rest of the 141

But over time there’s a shift. He can’t pinpoint when exactly but the sight of your mask relaxes him. After days separated on a mission, high stakes and adrenaline has Price snapping his head at the faintest of foreign sounds. But upon the familiar sight of your signature mask, he feels at ease

Price is fiercely protective of you and your mask. He likens it to his hat, only far more important - that mask is part of your identity and he knows just how important a soldier’s psyche is. If the enemy manages to take off your mask, he’ll stop at nothing to get it back on your behalf, even if you reluctantly tell him to abandon it

If he can’t salvage your mask, Price has now made it a habit to carry a balaclava for you in one of his pockets. If that’s not available, he’ll even offer you his hat, tipping it down far enough to obscure your eyes

Off duty he finds himself staring at your visage more these days. Looking at how the mask curves over your features, or the small slivers of skin that reveal themselves. He catches himself before you notice but he’s still disappointed in himself, he feels like a Victorian-era prude hyperventilating at the sight of an ankle

“Looking fresh, sergeant.”

You let out an audible chortle at Price’s words. The last mission was a success but at great costs, one of them being your mask damaged beyond repair during melee combat. Your face still wasn’t revealed, but slashes against fabric embedded with dirt and ash have made your signature mask look unrecognisable. Immediately upon returning to base and after debriefing, you were out of commission until you could don a new mask.

Price would be lying if said he didn’t miss your presence for the last few days, hiding away from the rest of the soldiers in base. He has no doubt you’ve still maintained your training and visiting the infirmary for mandatory checkups, but he’s gotten far too used to you being at his beck and call. The famed sight of your mask is no longer in his periphery, giving a nod of approval (not that he ever needed your approval, but he does enjoy your attention).

And now here you are with a new mask, the highlights glowing under the overhead lights and the darks swallowing up the lightwaves like an animal starved. Your updated look had you noticeably confident, shoulders square and head tall.

“Thanks, Captain.”

He can hear your smile and he ends up sitting next to you. Did he need to sit so close? No, but he acts as though his thigh brushing against yours was pure coincidence.

“What are you going to do with the old one?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, giving a light pat to a pocket in your cargo pants that your past mask currently resides in. “I know there’s a lot of memories in this… it’s my first mask… but I don’t know what to do with it.”

“I’ll keep it.”

You look at him. Price now has the uncanny ability to read your mood purely through your body language. From the speed at which you turn your head, the inclination of the neck, how your shoulders slant, he’s surprised that such a vicious soldier can act so endearingly in these moments.

“For what?”

“Safekeeping,” he says simply. “I’m proud of my soldiers, sergeant - want to remember their accomplishments.”

You shrug in agreement and fish your mask out of your pocket. You don’t need to know how much Price truly values you, how having your mask will be like having a part of you by his side to motivate him when he’s working alone.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

You’ve got a mask? Cool, so does he. Simon really doesn’t care when he first met you. He offers a simple nod of acknowledgement to you and then it’s all mission talk. If anything, the mask makes him respect you more, like him it’s always the masked ones who’ve seen shit and can get shit done

Even before you two became friends, you two were often paired together for operations. Perhaps it was just assumed the two masked people were on the same wavelength and to be fair, they were right. It didn’t take long for Ghost to admire your prowess on the battlefield

However as the two of you start to get closer, Simon gets a bit of a eureka moment. So this is how all his allies feel when trying to get along with a masked figure, unable to see any of their expressions. Oh how the tables have turned. It’s not daunting for him, more just amusing

He knows the struggles of having a mask so he helps out where he can. He reminds you if it’s been some time since you last washed your mask (advice he does not follow himself) and he’ll offer you some of his obsidian powder he uses to obscure any uncovered patches of skin

Price often has the two of you accompany him for interrogations, he calls it “mask pressure”. There’s nothing more terrifying to a target than having two imposing faceless figures standing on either side of them, unreadable and unpredictable

It’s clear you don’t want to show your face to anyone and Simon doesn’t question it. His natural curiosity is not worth your discomfort and he makes that abundantly clear. If on the rare occasion you catch him without a mask, he’ll sometimes put it back on so that you don’t have to be the only one with their face covered

If your mask is ever compromised, Simon covers you with his hulking figure. No one dares get on the bad side of Ghost who shoots the most terrifying glares towards anyone looking in his - and consequently your - way. He stands in front of you, back rigid and shoulders square, his posture only slacking if he feels you hold onto his back, seeking comfort

A few weeks ago, when left in a briefing, you finally noticed Simon was staring at you from across the room. He had been staring for a good while now, but you - ever the diligent soldier - were distracted discussing tactics with a corporal. So there he was, standing and observing in the corner of the room - his “observing” being drinking the sight of you. And that was when he noticed, among all the glory that was you, that your mask was slightly off alignment. Cue his eyes being trained on your head for you to get the idea that something was wrong.

When your head stayed still - probably challenging his gaze - he tried to change tactics. He added the occasional upward jerk of the head - miming an attempt to shake the mask back in place - but your head only tilted in confusion. You still could not figure out what he was doing.

Eventually he gave up and walked up to you. He lifted a tentative hand, silently asking for permission and you nodded. He pinched at the fabric on the side of your face.

“Your mask’s slippin’,” he said gruffly. It wasn’t the end of the world, only a small adjustment that only someone as observant as him could notice. Still, he felt satisfied at your heavy exhale, you must’ve noticed it’s a little easier to breathe with everything in alignment now.

“Thanks.”

Today, Simon finds your gaze trained on him, head following whenever he moves across the room. You used to stare when you first met, you probably found him intimidating and he doesn’t blame you. He thought you’d be over that though, you two were closer than that. At least he hoped.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He eventually asks and that spurs you into action.

Standing in front of him, you reach up, your hand grabbing the top half of the skull that overlays his balaclava. Your thumb lightly hooks into the skull’s eye socket - a little close to Simon’s actual eye but he trusts you. He feels you tug upwards, and Simon now realises that the skull had been sinking down his face, the peripheral around his brow no longer obscured. He’ll need to reapply the glue for the mask later.

“We really need a hand sign for this,” you mutter.

And so you two make one. It’s discreet, a closed fist with a thumb poking out, dragged from the jawline up to the hairline. The rest of the 141 just look at the two of you in confusion whenever you use it though, your little secret.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Johnny’s generally a good judge of character. Although it’s a little uncanny being unable to see your features, he’s used to it because of Simon. One conversation is all he needs to reach a conclusion as to what type of person you are and now he treats you as if you’re good friends

Yes, he is curious about what you look like under the mask. He used to make comments about it occasionally until he caught you on a bad day

“C’mon Sarge, just a peek.” “Not happening, Johnny.” “What, you ugly?” “… that’s not for you to speculate, MacTavish.” “Shit, sorry. I- I’d never think that of you, or care. I know you’re a looker.”

And Johnny stands by his statement. Even if he’s never seen your face he quickly developed a little crush on you. How you conduct yourself in battle has him watching you with stars in his eyes and he just knows you’ll take his breath away if you ever show your face

When Johnny’s bored, he likes doodling your mask and potential alternative designs in his journal which he’ll show you sometimes. He’s not an artist but he gets the idea across. He’s created a “happy” design, an “angry” one, and the “when I see Soap” design which is just your standard mask with a whole lot of shoddily drawn love hearts on it (you haven't seen that design yet)

He’s genuinely surprised at how determined you are at keeping your mask on in all circumstances - you’re worse than Simon at this point - but he’ll never ask because he doesn’t want to potentially open up old wounds. Despite his curiosity for what you could look like, Johnny will never invade your privacy and ensures no one else does either. If you’re in your room he’ll knock once, twice, thrice, until he’s absolutely sure you’re ready for him to enter

If something goes wrong and your mask falls off he’s looking away and shoving everyone else to look away as well. He’s like a guard dog, shouting and name-shaming anyone who dares look in your direction. No one except other members of the 141 will be able to approach you until you’re covered

Was it smart to have you and Soap - combined to be the most disruptive and obnoxious soldiers on the field - alone to handle a stealth mission that was off the books? No, but you sure as hell weren’t going to disappoint Price or Laswell. The objective was clear and the rules of engagement were even clearer; under no circumstance can the enemy know you’re from 141.

“We’re gonna need to cover our faces,” Johnny mutters absentmindedly beside you. You pull your binoculars down to send him an incredulous look and he chuckles. “I need to cover my face.”

“You got a mask?”

There’s a pause and Johnny’s looking at you, eyes glinting in that familiar mischief. That was never good news.

“You bet.”

You offer a tentative nod of encouragement before lifting your binoculars back up to observe the target site. You hear the repeated shuffles of fabric against fabric and clothes sliding against skin. It’s prolonged, you swear it’s enough time for Johnny to change his entire uniform. His breaths become muted, mouth now covered until it eventually falls to complete silence. It’s unnerving, the designated demolitions expert is not known for his silence, and you have to look back at him yet again.

Of course you expected Johnny to be wearing a mask, but it was the mask itself that took you by surprise.

“Is that… mine?”

“Was yours.”

You squint and somewhere in the depths of your mind, you vaguely recall Soap asking if he could have one of your spare masks back at the base. You humoured him, and said your wardrobe was his.

That was your first mistake.

You figured he was just going to take the piss, wear your mask to scare some privates around the base. You didn’t think he’d actually wear it on a mission. It was unexpected, but it felt like an honour. How he was so willing to identify with you in some of the most dangerous of situations.

But your silence has Johnny getting fidgety. He’s already reaching up to pull the mask off.

“I have a normal balaclava. If you don’t like this I can-”

“Wear it.”

You can’t see Johnny’s face but you see him pull his head back in surprise. Then he smiles, one so wide, expanding his cheeks you can see it stretch your mask. In that moment you’re glad your mask obscures your features as you feel yourself grin at his own joy.

“We’re a team, aye?”

“You bet.”

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle’s may be close to Simon but he's not entirely used to masked allies. When you first arrived he shot Captain Price a cautious look, a silent conversation between them finished by Price’s definitive nod. Eventually he relents and puts up with you

Subconsciously, without seeing your face he ends up reducing you to a weapon. He respects you like a soldier, a robot. His language is restrained, only issuing orders and you recite them back

It’s only when another soldier cracks a joke on the mission and you laugh does it flick a switch in Kyle’s mind. You weren’t all orders, you weren’t a machine, you were a human (with a damn nice voice might he add). He feels terrible for reducing you to a tool simply because he can’t see your face but he’ll make up for it now

He becomes a bit of a menace in the sparse quiet moments of a mission. He makes the occasional one liner about how you wear the mask so others aren’t distracted by your good looks, but then changes the topic so quickly you’re not even sure he said it

Yes, Kyle’s a little obsessed with your voice. He can’t see you and he doesn’t have the experience like Price or Simon to read body language accurately. Instead, he can read your mood near perfectly with the inflections in your voice (which is arguably more impressive). While he doesn’t want you to ever be upset or angry, sometimes how you taunt the enemy has a shiver running down his spine

Because your mouth is blocked by a mask, many allies don’t offer you food or drinks. Not Kyle though, if he’s grabbed refreshments, he always ensures he has extra for you. At first he just gives them to you and then leaves. But when you said it was okay for him to stay - trusting him enough to just look away when you lift you mask - Kyle’s heart soared

If anything happens to reveal your face, Kyle is immediately by your side. He pulls you close to provide comfort, while also guiding your head into his neck or shoulder to block anyone from seeing you. Another member of the 141 will find a solution to cover your face, you are Kyle’s first priority and he’ll gladly hold you all day

After a long mission, you and Kyle are finally safe upon reaching exfil. Sitting on a helicopter Kyle slumps against his seat, and you do the same beside him. Although he could finally relax, he feels absolutely filthy, swamped in his own sweat under multiple layers. Dirt and mud caked his boots and crept all the way up to his thighs. Some even sneaked up into under his tactical vest.

He spares a look and sometimes he thinks you can’t possibly be human. The heat is suffocating enough without a mask, Kyle has long forgone his signature cap to let his head breathe. If your body language was any indicator, you weren’t handling the sweltering heat of the helicopter engine or Al Mazrah’s temperament. Your chest notably heaving under the weight of your tactical gear, breaths so laboured it sent the fabric around your mouth pulling and billowing with each inhale and exhale.

There isn’t much Kyle can do for comfort, but he tries. He shifts a little closer to you. Your head shifts to look at him, the movement was far too slow, like your head was too heavy and his heart tugs a little.

With one hand, Kyle gently tilts your face up to him. With the other he lightly pinches the fabric of your mask at the junction between your jawline and ear. Teasing it between his fingers, when he pulls his hand away there’s gunk on his fingertips. Dust, dirt and as he squints at your mask he realises that some of the stains are likely the dried blood of an unidentified enemy.

The hand he’s resting on your chin is about to pull away until he notices how you’re resting your head on it. He can’t see your face but he has no doubt that your eyes are near shut, almost drifting off to dreamland. He occupies himself by gently brushing away loose debris off your mask which has you relaxing further into his touch.

“We gotta wash this,” he murmurs defeatedly.

“... yeah, we do,” you grumble, voice thick with fatigue. Kyle does not stop his ministrations - even pulling some fluff off of the cotton of your mask. It does little to actually clean your mask - at this rate it’s going to need pure bleach to clean it - but he can’t bring himself to stop. Not when you trust him this much, leaning into his touch, entrusting him to be the respite from your mission.

Masked Reader Masterlist Call of Duty Masterlist

[yawnderu]

Lorelei — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Part VI

1 2 3 4 5 6

Synopsis: Aware of the way his lifestyle doesn't align with your dream life and unwilling to quit his life as a soldier, Simon breaks things off with you. It isn't until a year later that he sees you again, a tiny carbon copy of him held in your arms.

Simon Riley is, like any other man who has been in the military for long enough and seen the horrors of war, a man who struggles. Struggles with feelings, actions, words, nightmares. The constant reminder that his career—the very same thing that made him grow a pair and go from a scared little boy to a proper lad—was what ultimately cut his family’s life short, weighed heavy on his shoulders, holding him down like Atlas holding the sky. 

Despite how much he tried to hide his own feelings from both you and himself, that icy gaze that seemed to be focused on nothing for hours and the lingering silence, along with the tired smiles he forced himself to give you no matter how awful his nightmares were the night before made it clear things were only getting worse.

Whatever was out there was oftentimes merciful enough to give him good dreams every once in a while, his psyche drowned in a sea of what the future could have been. A future with his family, a future with you. No matter how difficult things got in the black, buzzing mess that was his head, he saw his daughter and you like a beacon, a Star of Bethlehem during those dark, cold nights. 

The sound of stirring bed sheets is what originally wakes you up, the smell of tobacco and gunpowder that always linger on Simon’s body overwhelms your senses the longer you’re awake, slowly coming back to your senses. A groan, and more shifting from your left. 

“Simon.” Your voice is soft and even, hands feeling around the bed sheets until you find his shaking body. In the past, Simon used to sleep on the couch, refusing to go back to his apartment just so he could spend more time with you and your daughter, yet after Johnny’s death, the pain and trauma was always clear in his eyes, ending up with you offering to let him sleep in the same bed. 

Simon’s body feels extremely warm, a thin layer of sweat covering his burly frame, seeping through his clothes and into your fingers as you shake him harder, the room dimly lit with the bright moonlight peering from the window. You can see his features scrunching up, his hands balled into fists, the veins in his neck and forehead becoming more prominent as he relives what is likely yet another traumatic moment in his life. 

“Simon.” You repeat with more urgency this time, your body shifting closer to his in order to shake him firmly, watching as his eyes flew open, dilated pupils looking around the room before meeting your gaze, a mask of deception quickly taking over his visage as you see him force himself to appear more relaxed despite the fast-drumming of his pulse you can still feel beneath your fingers, his chest rising and falling, nostrils flaring as he forces himself to take a deep breath.

“Did I wake you up?” Despite how awful his nightmares were, Simon’s priority was always you. His kindness isn’t just fake sympathy, it’s the real thing. 

“No, I was reading something.” A little white lie that at the very least eased his concerns. Your hand squeezes the tense mass of muscle on his shoulder with such gentleness that he wasn’t used to, not after a year of being alone after breaking up with you. 

The corners of his lips tug up into a tight-lipped, tired smile, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows thickly, trying to hold it together for your sake. His eyes examine yours for any hints of disgust, any hints that you may have seen just how disgusting he could be during those nightmares, his mind still fragmented thanks to Roba’s torture, never seeming to heal no matter how many years go by. 

Your fingers work overtime on trying to ease the knots formed on his muscles from the strain it takes to hold it together when you’re looking at him with so much trust and concern, not an ounce of disgust in you despite how ashamed he feels. His eyes momentarily drift away from you, focusing on the baby monitor, the tiny screen displaying your sleeping daughter, the living image of innocence, serving as a soothing balm for his broken soul. 

“Bad dream?” How lucky he is, that even crushed under the weight of looming grief and enough trauma to last him several lifetimes, he has someone to care about him, to care for him. His exhausted eyes leave the baby monitor, staring up at the ceiling as he finally allows himself the chance to take in your tender touch, the genuine kindness showing through your soft massage and concern, no matter how much of a bastard he was for leaving you. 

“Yeah.” You know better than to press him about it, too familiar with him to know if he wants to talk about his issues, he will. You lean closer to him, your head now resting on his pillow and your arm draped over his stomach, your body moving on nothing but pure muscle memory from four years of dating him. 

From this short distance, you’re able to admire the man that Simon Riley truly is. His short brown hair, the thin, pale scars adorning his visage, and the wrinkles that are starting to become more prominent as he ages, war and stress making him appear older than he actually is, yet looking as handsome as ever. His rough, calloused hand goes up to hold yours, fingers intertwining with the same muscle memory your body performed. 

It has been months since Simon came back into your life, the knowledge of the fact that he now has a daughter always made him stick around, not wanting to miss a single moment from the tiny bundle of joy that seems to adore him, a brave little girl who was as spunky as her mother, and as stubborn as her father. 

“‘Bout Roba, again.” He finally admits after seconds of silence. Manuel Roba, a name you’re unfortunately familiar with. The same man who tortured Simon and his mates for months on end, allowing him to escape and to feel a sense of false security, giving him the chance to have a proper family for once with his father out of the picture, just to rip everything that held him together from his hands. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” His head shakes, signaling a no. The pads of your fingers run over his bruised knuckles in a calming fashion, tracing tiny, random patterns before his free arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his chest now that he’s laying on his side. There’s hesitation in his actions, yet his soul is filled with relief the moment you let go of his hand, just to circle his waist with one of your arms. 

“‘M sorry.” He’s not even sure what he’s apologizing for. There’s way too many things he needs to atone for, and he will be as patient as they come. 

“I’m sorry for leavin’. I was scared, didn’t want to mess you up.” He knows his absence did the opposite, and the idea of you giving birth without him present always shattered his soul. If only he had known about your pregnancy, he wouldn’t have broken up with you, never would have left. 

His chapped lips plant a comforting kiss on your forehead, his warm hands running up and down your back, looking to soothe you as he can hear your breath hitch, salty tears already rimming your eyes. Your face is buried against his chest, lightly feeling his fast-beating heart as he holds you even closer, his eyes fluttering shut at finally having you in his arms again. 

“I missed you.” The shakiness in your voice breaks his heart even further, his soul being ripped apart by his own selfish, awful decisions. 

“I missed you too, sweet girl.” He manages to whisper out despite the way he’s getting choked up, his arms circling your form even more when your shoulders begin to shake. Warm, salty tears bleed through his clothes as he holds you as close as possible, squeezing your frame even tighter before he’s back to rubbing your back up and down, looking into spreading the warmth emanating from his large frame. 

“So fuckin’ much.” Another gentle kiss is planted on your forehead, holding you for as long as you need— for as long as he needs, too. You both lose track of time, simply caressing and giving each other much needed comfort, bringing you back to the ways you comforted each other back when you were dating after an awful day, all the crying and warmth coming from his body eventually exhausting you, idly playing with the fabric of his black shirt. 

“Can I…” There’s clear doubt in his words, and despite the fact that his exhaustion matches yours, there’s one last thing he wants to do. You lift your head, brown eyes meeting your gaze. You could drown in those eyes— in the way they always seem so loving and kind, so gentle despite how brutal you know he can be as a soldier… and yet that’s Ghost, not Simon, you remind yourself. 

His hand comes up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, ultimately pushing himself to cup your cheek, his thumb lightly rubbing your soft, warm skin, still moistened by tears. You get the message almost instantly, yet admiring Simon when he looks so unsure of himself steals your attention for once. 

A small nod of affirmation meets his words, and Simon doesn’t waste any time, leaning down until his forehead rests against yours for a few seconds before his lips meet yours in a soft, tender kiss, the hand on your cheek caressing your skin gently, his eyes fluttering shut.

[PREVIOUS]

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[frudoo]

I need a part 2 and 3 of Bikers 141!!!! And for the anonymous person who suggested this idea: You are a genius!! This is such a great idea!!!! I can see them helping her get a new job!!! Please add more!

Sorry it took so long for me to reply 🫣

Life has been a bitch and unfortunately I am the son.

Part 2 to this.

Warnings: None! Fem!Reader.

“She’s ridin’ w’me,” Simon grunts, and his tone leaves no room for argument—not that you mind.

    You hesitantly walk over and climb onto Simon’s bike, holding onto his waist for dear life despite still being stationary. He chuckles, revving up his engine and leading the way out of the parking lot for the three other men to follow. You frown, fingers digging into the flesh of his waist beneath his skin-tight shirt, hiding your face between his shoulder blades so you can’t see how fast you’re going or feel the wind whipping your hair. 

     Finally, the motorcycle comes to a stop with a slight jerk that has you yelping against Simon’s back. He chuckles and dismounts his ride, grabbing your waist and lifting you off of it as well. You don’t even have time to process how easily he picked your plush body up when you’re just so thankful to be alive. 

     “I am never doin’ that again!” You huff, hands on your hips as you glare at all of them. “Especially without a helmet! Do you know how dangerous that is?! What if y’all had crashed?!” 

     “Good thing we didn’t, then, eh?” John winks, nodding his head towards the quaint little ice cream parlor before you. 

     Johnny is the first to walk in, head held high like he owns the place. Next is Kyle and then John with similar stances, and the thought is so silly that it makes you giggle—four big, strong bikers trudging into the little shop to enjoy a sweet treat. Simon places his hand on the small of your back and opens the door for you, having to duck his head to trail in after. The inside looks like a typical creamery, swirls of pastel pinks and greens and yellows decorating the walls and a beautiful display of all kinds of flavors.

     “Kate,” John greets the woman behind the counter with a sniff. “Got someone for you to meet.”

     The woman gives you a onceover before turning back to John with a pleased grin. Suddenly you feel small, wrapping your arms around one of Simon’s biceps in some effort to feel safe. He chuckles, bending at the waist to murmur into your ear.

     “Tha’s jus’ Kate. Doesn’t smile much, bu’ it looks like she approves o’ya,” He explains, although now you’re more confused than intimidated.

     “Approves of me? For what?” You frown, looking up at the tall man who, surprisingly has taken off his mask—he hadn’t even done that to eat back at the diner. “O-oh, you’re… I- uh. Hm.”

     Simon smirks amusedly, and it makes your heart flutter. There are multitudes of scars all along his visage but the most prominent runs across his top lip, jagged and off-white as if it was the result of a poorly done repair job. His hair is a mess of cropped blonde strands, one bushy eyebrow raised like he’s waiting for your assessment. In short, you like what you see. In all honesty, you’ve never felt such a strong urge to kiss somebody in your life. You might have done just that if Kyle hadn’t cleared his throat.

     “Kate’s askin’ ya summat, dove.”

     “Huh? Oh! I’m so sorry, ma’am, w-what were you sayin’?” You quickly whip your head around to see that, in fact, she’s looking right at you with her arms crossed. 

     “I was offering you a job. The boys were telling me that you just got fired, is that right?” Despite her unforgiving posture, her eyes are soft and she seems patient—the complete opposite of your old boss. 

     “Yes, ma’am,” you confirm, embarrassed. 

     “Right. You start tomorrow,” Kate informs you matter-of-factly, and you sputter although no words come out of your agape mouth. 

     None of the men seem at all phased by her statement, each ordering their respective usuals, apparently: rum raisin for Kyle, pistachio for John, lemon custard for Simon, and almond mocha for Johnny. All five turn to look at you expectantly, and you suck in a deep breath before settling on a classic root beer float. They all seem pleased, and before you even get the chance to pull out your card to pay for your own, John takes care of the entire thing. You thank him sweetly as the guys guide you to sit at a cute little table, far too small and whimsical for the likes of them.

     It’s a good root beer float, though. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing that these men—no matter how blunt or forward they may be—are so eager to help you out (in their own way of politely bossing you around, of course).

[gay-dorito-dust]

I come bearing a brainrot of a relatively normal s/o for the Lin Quei bois except s/o can see dead spirits and always keep a straight face. Sometimes they act weird bc they're avoiding a really nasty looking ghost and have grown numb to it. But when the bois finally catch a glimpse at the 'ghosts' their beloved mentioned all they see is some kind of eldritch horror. (This came from my recent fascination with the manga/anime series Mieruko-Chan)

Rate my really shitty attempt at creating eldritch creatures. (Actually don’t cuz I’m mega sensitive) 🦦

Tomas Vrbada

Ever since being forced by Johnny to watch horror movies, Tomas had been scared shitless when it comes to paranormal activity.

Ghosts, poltergeists, you name it, Tomas is scared of them all.

So when you -his seemingly normal but beloved partner- have been intentionally avoiding a certain spot in the Lin Kuei, shifting your gaze over in it’s direction now and then before ignoring it completely with a straight face, he didn’t think much do it at frisky but the more and more it has became the more Tomas started to feel an indescribable feeling within his chest.

It was the same feeling that he would often get when having been forced to watch a horror movie with Johny, that feeling where he knew something scary was about about to happen, which only worsened the longer the scene continued to build and ramp up the tension and to have him too scared to even look over his own shoulder; only to near enough be scared shitless a second later and loose hold of his popcorn.

Needless to say Tomas had been forced to watch one too many movie where the protagonist was somewhat clairvoyant to known that when you were giving a very specific area, out of the entire Lin Kuei no less, an cautious look. He knew better then to ever indulge in any amount of curiosity that he may have, even if it was a smidge, he would pretended that he saw nothing and would go about his day like normal. He wasn’t about to become one of those stupid characters who’d willingly go into a house that was very clearly haunted by visage alone!

He’s following your example right down to a T! He honestly doesn’t want to know what was lurking in that corner and he wasn’t particularly all that eager to find out either. Tomas would rather life the rest of his life in ignorant bliss if he could, but unfortunately for him that wasn’t going to be the case, for he had found himself having to go to that very room to get something for his brothers. However as soon as he opened the door, Tomas caught a glimpse of the thing in the corner that you’ve ominously warned him about.

It was hideous, so hideous in fact the sight of it made Tomas want to gag but he knew he couldn’t, so he slapped a hand over his mouth. The creature had bore the appearance of a pure bred Russian bear dog, but unfortunately for Tomas, that’s pretty much where the similarities started and stopped; For it had clusters of small, almost peddle sized eyes that were black as night taking up it’s entire face.

That wasn’t all, when the creature opened it’s mouth -if Tomas could even call it that- it’s stomach would rip open just as a thousand pair of what could only be described as human hands emerged out from said stomach, palms laying flat on the floor, as they began to shuffle across the floor in search of something. One particular pair of hands almost came into contact with Tomas’ foot, almost making him scream, but upon realising that their search efforts bore no fruit, the hands then retracted back into the creatures stomach, where it would then close itself up as though someone had just zipped it shut from the inside, before moving towards a different part of the room.

Scared out of his wits, Tomas bolted out of the room, completely forgetting what he had originally went there for, and just ran as fast as he could. He ran even when his legs began to hurt, he ran even when his lungs were begging for breath and he ran even when he had all but forgotten why he was even running in the first place. Tomas didn’t stop running until he saw you heading towards him, his brothers probably sent you to see what was taking him so long, and without a second thought; Tomas held you in his arms tightly, burying his head deep into your neck as he whispered.

‘How can you bare to seeing these things on a daily basis.’ The image of that thing was forcefully seared into Tomas’ mind, haunting him forever.

You didn’t have to ask further details as to what it was that he saw and instead reciprocated his hug, stroking the hairs at the back of his neck reassuringly, whilst pressing kisses into the side of his head where your would then rest your cheek against. ‘I don’t.’ You replied, looking straight ahead at the creature just as it poked it’s head out of the door, staring at you with all of their small beady black eyes before slinking off into the room across through the wall.

Kuai Liang

Concerned was a word that was often used to describe what Kuai Liang felt whenever you would shuffle closer towards his back, you might as well have been hiding, when passing down a particular hallway as your eyes were focused forward. Almost as though you were avoiding looking at something you didn’t like by pretending it didn’t exist.

Kuai Liang was aware of your uncanny ability to see the dead as you did the living, it was one of the things you disclosed to him upon first meeting, and even recalled the stories you’d tell him regarding the kinds of ghosts you’ve come across. Upon further questioning as to what they looked like you told Kuai Liang that most were human or humanoid in figure, but others went beyond the realm of human comprehension.

The latter of the two kinds were the ones you tended to avoid having direct contact with the most and this most recent one was no different.

‘Is it them, my love?’ Kuai Liang asked, looking over his shoulder at you worriedly.

You hummed. ‘They’re always with us, following but they most like to stay here and watch everyone who passes by.’

Kuai Liang pursed his lips at this new tidbit of information, whilst concerning learning this was, he was concerned about was getting you out of this hallway a lot more. Just as he was reaching back to grab your hand, Kuai Liang caught slight movement from out of the corner of his eye but before you could say anything, his eyes were already locked onto the other side of the hallway; more specifically the area you purposefully avoid looking towards every time you have to come down this hallway.

Kuai Liang remembered you telling him that It shouldn’t be possible for him see what you see, but it wasn’t uncommon for ghost to become temporarily visible. So with that in mind Kuai Liang could only deduct that what he was seeing before him what you regarded as a type two ghost; In all honesty the word ghost didn’t quite seem to match what he was currently seeing.

The creature in question was about his height, maybe a little shorter, then again he wasn’t quite sure considering it was sort of slouched. It appeared human enough in its physique, but something deep inside Kuai Liang told him that what was standing before him was far from human. He just couldn’t escape this deeply unsettling feeling that continued to grown within his chest the longer he continued to look. A sharp snapping sort of sound caught his ear, and in an instant his senses sharpened as Kuai Liang watched to see the creature viciously attempting in tearing it’s own face off with it’s hands that were infused with needles, as though desperate to get it off, to reveal…a smooth porcelain like mask beneath shredded and stringy bits of it’s former face.

As if watching that wasn’t enough the lower half of the smooth porcelain mask began to crack, a jagged fissure spread from one end to another like it was forming itself a mouth but once it had finished, the crack like mouth then began to open to reveal an endlessly dark void beneath and just before it could even think to speak; you quickly grabbed Kuai Liang’s hand and pulled him down the hallway until you were a safe distance from the creature. You could tell that seeing something like that had gotten to Kuai Liang, even if it was by a little margin.

‘Are you okay?’ You asked, squeezing his hand.

‘I fear for you little flame.’ Kuai Liang admitted. ‘Your gift for seeing these things, I worry that it will plunge you into the darkest depth that not even my fire would be nearly enough to guide you out safely.’ You smiled sympathetically at his concern. ‘As long as I don’t acknowledge them or give them a line of communication, then there’s nothing to worry about.’ You reassured him but you could tell that it wasn’t enough with the way his brows furrowed deeper with worry. ‘Doesn’t mean that I wont still worry about you.’ He utters, tightening his grip on your hand, afraid to let go.

‘I’m not expecting you to because no matter what I know you’ll always worry about me but I promise when I tell you that no harm can come to me if I don’t incite it. I’ve lived with this my entire life, all I ask of you is to trust me.’ You practically begged as you stared Kuai Liang deep into his eyes and watched as he sighed before pressing his head against your own. ‘I trust you with my life, little flame.’ He says in a hushed whisper. ‘However it’s within my duty to protect you from all harm, living or not.’ You smiled at his warm words, closing your eyes as you learnt in towards his natural warmth.

‘Then at least let me protect you from time to time.’ You cheeked, causing Kuai Liang to let out a deep chuckle as he pressed a little kiss to your lips. ‘I won’t make any promises.’ He cheeked.

Bi-Han

Now Bi-Han wouldn’t say he whether he did or didn’t believe in ghosts, but even if he did he wouldn’t be one to actively try to prove their existence. He was the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei, he had no time for such childish ridiculousness, not when there were more pressing matters that were more worthy of his time and effort anyway.

However when you first told him that you could see ghosts, Bi-Han didn’t know what to make of it, he’s not one to discredit your abilities in anyway shape or form. He’s not like Tomas who watches one too many horror movies and starts flinching at every subtle creak or groan of the floorboards. Yet that doesn’t mean he didn’t find your power intriguing because after all Bi-Han is a man who strives to know more, he strives for knowledge and so he would take this opportunity to fully understand how exactly your power works.

He even takes note how you purposefully ignore an area with everything you had, keeping your head down or eyes facing forward whenever you had to go anywhere near it, coming out of the room with a straight face as though you weren’t fazed but Bi-Han was well trained in knowing when his intended target was lying and or on edge. Upon asking why you were avoiding that specific part of the Lin Kuei, he took in everything you told him about the ghost that you encountered, engraving every last detail it into his head as to paint himself a picture, but even then Bi-Han doesn’t think it remotely resembles the creature that you saw.

Never did he think that he would ever see it for himself but one day he did indeed find himself staring into the unsettlingly large, bulging eyes of the creature as it breathed heavily, as though it was severely out of breath and was just now recovering. It was about half his size and had hair covering everywhere…well except its midsection, which was all just leathery skin that rose and fell with its breathing pattern. It’s hands were human but everything else about it wasn’t, it had lost it’s lower mouth, leaving only it’s top row of sharp teeth; making the question of how it could possibly eat or consume anything to Bi-Han’s morbid curiosity.

The creature then proceeded to close the distance between the two of them and all Bi-Han could smell was death, blood and rotting flesh but he wasn’t fazed. He was aware of what the creature was doing and wasn’t about to give it the reaction it so desperately wanted, he was above these childish attempts of intimidation; So in retaliation Bi-Han only narrowed his eyes, presenting himself in a way that told the creature that he could see what it was doing and that he was above such tactics. He could see why you’d avoid looking upon these things, they could send a weaker minded person to the brink of insanity upon first glance, but Bi-Han was made of much tougher material to succumb to such.

The creature backed of, finding no enjoyment in this at all, and left the room through the wall on all fours for much weaker prey, looking like some dog with a sever case of mange.

Later that day where you and Bi-Han were settling down for the night, Bi-Han then decided to admit to what he saw prior, not liking to keep such things from you especially when it’s in regards to your powers. ‘I saw it.’ He said point blank as he stroked your back and it took you a moment to realise what he had meant by that before a look of realisation spread across your face. ‘You did? I thought that wasn’t possible.’ You replied.

‘It was only a glimpse but what I saw, I saw it as clear as I see anything else.’ Bi-Han told you, wondering how it was that you could keep your psyche intact when seeing such vile creatures on a daily basis. He even wondered if you’ve seen some that were even more grotesque then the one he had encountered earlier.

‘Not exactly a pleasant sight are they?’ You joked, looking at him with a small smile, knowing firsthand how unnerving it was to know that such things could possibly exist, even though you did finally mange to find a routine you had followed religiously in the events where you did happen to encounter them. Unfortunately It never truly gets rid of your first experience with seeing them for the first time, firmly believing that you were going to die due to how horrific and fear inducing they were.

‘No, I’m guessing that I’m right in assuming that this one pales in comparison to others you’ve had the misfortune of seeing?’ Bi-Han asked, watching your every expression like a that of a hawk. ‘Way worse.’ You responded as you snuggle yourself deeper into his chest, closing your eyes to avoid looking at the glowing pair of eyes that peered into yours and Bi-Han’s room.

[mirthlxss]

Off to the races

Chapter 8: I have a Las Vegas past

“And what soldier are you seducing?”

master list

price x oc, series.

a03: pricescigar, Off to the races is posted in full.

taglist:  @deadbranch , @jxvipike, @smoggyfogbottom

warnings: none.

“As the one taken hostage here, I feel my vote matters more.” 

“I don’t actually think that helps your case in any way Lil’.” 

“Oan’ this occasion I actually agree with the lass, I cannae take another Chinese-“

“Could you at least try and speak English for once Johnny.”

Disgruntled, Lilith let her head roll back against the cushion of the sofa, groaning loudly at the bickering. “This was meant to be my takeaway!” 

“Sharing is caring” Kyle implored, the four had reached a stalemate. 

“Well private no-pants and I will share an Indian then, you lot get Chinese” Soap pushed himself up from beside Ghost and moved to slump next to Lilith. As the man dropped down messily his large shoulder caught her own in a bruising movement, squashing her frame down behind himself. 

“Fucking Christ-” She bit, free hand now slamming into his side, knuckles digging into his ribs with an effort to try to dislodge the male. Soap recoiled with a disjointed wail of pitched noise, pained laughs breaking out as she continued to assault his ribs.

“Oi- OI! Lass! Come aff’ it!” 

“Don’t tickle him.” Ghost barked out in an instant, defensively standing over the two within seconds, guarding grip going to separate them, only to be pulled into Soap’s side, practically kneeling over the man.  

“Ow can everyone just get the fuck off me-“ Lily squirmed beneath them both, shooting daggers back at Simon as he seemed to loom over her like an iron wall between herself and his sergeant. She paused in her struggle to fully return his unyielding glare, lips twisting into a determined glower. “Gonna strangle Soap with my shoelaces.” 

“The ones you’re gonna seduce off a soldier?” Kyle quipped, feeling slightly left out of the fray. From beneath Ghost, Johnny began to chuckle, prickles of red percolating across his visage as he sat smothered by the masked man, slightly out of breath from Lilith trying to get him to move. 

“The very ones.” She hummed, eyes flaring as she maintained whatever stare-down was occurring between them both. 

“And what soldier are you seducing?” The question came from the hall, his voice rose the hairs on her arms as it seemed to reverberate off the walls. Captain Price rolled in like thick fog, you’d feel his temperature rising the room, know his presence, even before you’d see him. Engrossing, the antics had halted in lieu of him, all watching toward the opening of the common room, waiting for his mountainous frame to fill the space. 

“Any, can’t be so picky at the moment.” She chimed, and there he was. Having encroached upon the struggle slowly, as if surveying a battleground, eyebrow rising in feigned interest. He lingered over Garrick, arms folding over one another as he watched Ghost slowly come away from between them and then Soap peeled himself off of Lilith. She rolled her shoulder back dramatically, hand going to massage over the reddened spot in which Soap had crushed. 

“And why, pray tell, would you be seducing any soldier?” 

“Shoelaces.” The four chimed out in union, Lily soon raising her legs up to display her ill-fitting boots. 

Price gave a quick nod, a low ‘hm’ grumbling from his chest as he took in the sight. Eyebrow still quirked, observant as he moved his attentions toward his men, settling on Ghost as the Captain went to gesture with an open palm to her boots. A silent question, one which Ghost had rolled his eyes to. In his mind, it was common sense. Basic safety. 

Lilith, having spent weeks in their presence now, had somewhat become attuned to the wordless conversations held between the boys. It struck her that the Captain was none the wiser to the fashion alterations demanded of her, a smug curl wavered over her lips, a hot chuckle now pressing past her throat. 

“The incredible sulk over there specifically robbed me of shoelaces, belts and drawstrings, in the eventuality that I may feel the need to hang myself.” 

“Snitch.” 

“Enough Ghost, I’m actually struggling to comprehend the stupidity of this-“ 

“He took the scissors from the drawers as well.” Gaz coughed up, turning away from Ghost as he did so, leaning more toward Price like the Captain would scathe off the onslaught of abuse hurdled toward him in one pointed glare. 

“For crying out loud, Simon, all of it better be back in place by tomorrow.” 

There used to be space. Worn cracks of the sofa exposed the hatched webbing beneath it, aged and sun-damaged leather giving way under the wear and tear of hulking frames over time. There used to be enough room for three to lounge comfortably, one left to take prime position on the accompanying armchair. Tradition left the space to the lieutenant or the captain, something unspoken between the two dictated it was first come first serve. There used to be space, and then there was Lilith. 

She’d offered to sit on the floor, quickly dismissed, now snug between Kyle and the captain. When the food came, it was an awkward shuffle of tucked-in elbows and carefully timed spoonfuls of curry, desperately trying not to knock into one another and spill anything. Feeling bold, or perhaps, not thinking properly, she had ordered something new. After three mouthfuls, the woman had gone a patchy array of fuchsia, quietly gulping down the fiery sauce with a shaky determination, too embarrassed to give in or ask to swap with anyone. The tv blared ahead, celebrities screaming and yelling as they went through challenges, easy viewing, something mindless. Lilith was thankful the volume was up so loud, welcome to the distraction as the flavour seemed to pave way for hellfire. She shifted slightly as Price nudged her side, probably wanting more room having been squished in the corner, plate balancing on the arm of the sofa. She crossed her legs over to try to grant him more space, watching out the corner of her eye as he seemed to settle closer, hand encroaching upon her own. 

Without a word, her plate was taken from her, soon to be replaced with his own. Quizzically she peered down at the much less red-looking dish, soon turning to Price as he carried on eating, free hand reaching down beside him to clasp around his pint, taking a measured sip before offering it to her. Lily carefully accepted the wet glass, condensation dripping over her fingers as they brushed against his own, which remained steadfast despite her unsteady grasp, only detaching after the few moments it took for her to grip it properly. 

He remained focused on the bright flash of advertisements and happy smiles, strangers trying to sell him things, minutes of his life he’d never get back. Sometimes, he liked them, the slurry of capitalistic cartoon faces waving product after product, almost took it personally. How long would he have to watch them? Did they know he’d be away? Felt like an ordinary member of the public, targeted amongst the masses, use our service! Buy my product! He wouldn’t. But sometimes, he’d entertain it. 

The idea of a new mop, a shiny vacuum cleaner. What use was it when his house would still be dusty after months of absence, no point. 

He sighed softly, another spoonful of her curry. Christ, it was spicy, no wonder the poor girl was suffering. He could feel her itching beside him, practically melting away into the couch as she tried to breathe through her mouth discretely, failing to tame struggled coughs. Again, a quick glimpse over, she’d practically drowned down most of his beer, still going, the corners of her lips reddened from the sauce, eyes clenched shut with an earnest sense of relief. 

One, two, steady droplets of condensation rolled past her slender fingers, escaping down the length of her arm. 

One, two, the steady skip of his heart. 

The rim of the glass pulled away from her mouth, smudged where she’d been. He flickered back to the tv, blinking harshly, another spoonful.

Plates discarded along the countertops behind them, several emptied cans littered the common space around them. Food, beer and a long day had pulled a cosy lull of quiet over the group, a warm blanket to sink into, draped over slumped figures as they merged into one another. Eyes feeling heavier, more and more effort needed to draw them back open after each blink. Soap declined into an unresponsive doze first, lolling onto Kyle, like dominos one after the other it was soon Lilith’s turn to soak in their sleep. She had held up quite well, still slightly on edge within the barracks, though the heat radiating from John seemed to disarm her slightly, soft snores coming from the two leaning onto one another going further in levelling down her sense of alarm. 

Every now and again, hazel eyes would peer out across the room at Ghost, who remained in the armchair, sat upright with the same unfinished beer he’d had since the beginning. It was getting harder and harder to keep tabs on him, the darkness submerging his figure into the shadows, only caught by the momentary flashes of brightness from the screen. 

She wanted to yawn, stretch out and submit herself to the pile beside her, check out for the night. It bubbled in her chest, the yearning rising ever so slowly, pushing out her ribs as she inhaled deeply, mouth clamped shut to try and fight the sound. It was small, the held-in yawn, the need to cover it up proved larger than her comfort, eyes slotting shut for a stretch before they crumpled open once more. 

It was strangely comforting to the man, the sound of three muppets snoring away. He’d wanted to call it a night hours ago, holding out to see how long it would take her to give in seemed to sway his judgement, peeking every so often to see the subdued yawns and bleary-eyed look. He knew it wouldn’t be long, proven right by the sudden weight slumping onto his side. By then it was too late, Soap had shifted, then Kyle, and now Lily, all three balanced against the captain as he had only just managed to free his arm, casting it over the back of the couch with a huff. Her face pushed against his broad chest, an open-mouthed sleep that had resulted in a small patch of drool gathering on his shirt. She folded further into his side every so often, huffing and tucking into the warmth. 

He tried to keep his eyes on the tv, head clouded with mops and hoovers.

Authors notes: HOPE the new aesthetic is okay! Thought I'd spruce it up a little, will probably go back and do the previous chapters like this one if it goes down well. :)

[pulpman2]

Candid Camera

“G’wan, smile,” croaked Jerry, painfully holding up his camera so it focused on the murderous visage of Johnny Lee as the man advanced on the felled photo journalist, gun in hand. “You got balls, kid, I’ll give you that,” smiled the gangster, posing slightly, despite himself, “but seeing as you’re gonna be dead, your snaps won’t be featuring in no Jerry Wade centre spread or no rogue’s gallery!” The Candid Camera Kid, blood oozing from the split skin on his scalp where Johnny Lee had clipped him, smiled weakly back at the looming criminal. “You take a nice picture, asshole. You really concentrate don’t you?” Jerry choked. Johnny Lee frowned at his victim, uncomprehending. “And that means you’ve taken your eyes off Dolores who is about to crown you with my Press Association vase!” the photographer smiled sweetly, and clicked.

“What?” exclaimed Johnny. Too late. The vase shattered on his head and the gangster joined Jerry on the floor in an ungainly heap. Dolores, Jerry’s rookie but spunky trainee stood over both men. “I did ok, Mr Wade?” she asked the photographer, a single shard of china still in her hand. “Gee, I’m sorry about your vase.” Jerry gave a coughing laugh. “That’s fine, baby,” he said, “the bums only gave it me as third prize anyway.” He looked around painfully then indicated in the direction of his closet. “Now use some of my neckties to get that ugly lug you brained tied up.”

Johnny came round to find himself being tightly bound, hands behind his back, by Dolores while Gerry, still lying on the floor studied him mockingly. “Yeah, I think this will be a good one for this week’s Candid Camera piece, Johnny boy,” he grinned, lining up his camera while Dolores busily tied the gangster’s ankles together too. Johnny Lee glowered first at the serious looking young woman tying him and then at Jerry. “I think I’ll call it: Beauty Captures the Beast. What you both think?” Dolores coloured slightly and laughed. Johnny took in a sharp intake of breath. Jerry interrupted before the bound captive could say anything. “Johnny, there are ladies present!” he told him. “Sweetheart, you’d better gag your little playmate here. Who knows what he might come out with?” Dolores nodded. “Sure thing, Mr Wade,” she replied, picking up another tie. “Mmmmmmph!!” added Johnny Lee angrily.

My interpretation of the story behind The Silver Mask Murders, featuring Jerry Wade, “The Candid Camera Kid” by John L Benton in Detective Novels Magazine, Vol 4, #2 (October 1939)

[strangears]

Synthpop Retrospective - Bronski Beat : The Age of Consent

Quand The Age of Consent sort en 1984, le mouvement est déjà bien installé. C'en est même une très bonne année avec les débuts d'Alphaville et leur « Forever Young » , le « SFX » d'Haruomi Hosono (curiosité d'un membre d'YMO sur laquelle il faut foncer), « Who's Afraid of the Art of Noise » ou encore des sorties – pas les meilleures - d'Ultravox, OMD, Depeche Mode, Jean-Michel Jarre sans oublier le « Like A Virgin » de Madonna, qui ne fait qu'asseoir la Synthpop dans le mainstream. Deux albums vont pourtant sortir du lot, principalement par leur engagement pour la cause homo-sexuelle ; « Welcome to the Pleasuredome » de Frankie Goes to Hollywood et « The Age of Consent » de Bronski Beat.

Non pas que la musique n'est pas importante ici – je reviendrai un jour sur le travail de Trevor Horn pour le groupe derrière « Relax » - mais elle marquera moins que le message derrière les deux œuvres ; l'homo-sexualité existe et il faudra faire avec. Comme l'écrit Simon Reynolds dans son « Rip it Up and Start Again », ça ne se lit pas sur son visage que Jimmy Somerville est homosexuel (contrairement aux Frankie Goes qui en poussaient l'imagerie dans ses retranchements) ; son objectif était de montrer qu'un gay ressemblait à n'importe qui d'autres. Pourtant, ce qui frappe aussi, c'est la différence entre ce physique, un peu skin sorti tout droit de « This is England » et la voix du personnage, ce que je ne m'attendais pas à la première écoute.

« Smalltown Boy » est bien sûr devenu un hymne, repris dans le film « Pride » sorti en 2014 (excellente BO pour les amateurs de Synthpop) et cela est moins du à la production – certes impeccable, jouant avec adresse sur un sentiment entre joie et mélancolie – de Steve Bronski et Larry Steinbacheck qu'au chant haut-perché de Jimmy, rappelant alors l'autre icône queer Sylvester, aussi bien pour sa façon de pousser la gueulante que dans le rythme de certaines compositions ; « Why » est clairement un single Hi-NRJ.

Outre ces deux tubes, que trouvons-nous dans cette première galette ? Deux reprises. Une de « It Ain't Necessarily So », un standard de jazz des Gershwin, qui je trouve, ne marche pas forcément dans une production synthétique, même si elle sonne toujours moins kitsch que le « Heatwave » un peu plus loin. Et une autre « double » reprise du « I Feel Love » de Moroder/Summer et « Johnny Remember Me » de Goddard, dans une version rappelant fortement celle du producteur italien Giorgio, moins Moog certainement mais avec quelques ajouts sympathiques, un mélange de deux classiques qui fonctionne étonnamment bien.

Sur le reste de l'album, qui oscille donc entre Hi-NRJ synthétique (« Junk » fait le job) et des titres plus « downtempo », Jimmy continue à pousser ses longues notes de diva soul, souvent les mêmes, au point où on finit par se lasser de ce qui faisait la qualité première d'Age of Consent. Surtout pour des textes aussi bateaux que « No More War », sur lesquels je ne peux même pas jeter la pierre, cri du cœur oblige, on a pas mieux à dire dans l'époque de conflit actuelle et subie. « Need-A-Man Blues » et « Love & Money » sont quant à elles, des pièces aussi rythmées qu'atmosphériques, j'apprécie beaucoup le second, notamment pour ce gimmick au clavier qui revient tout le long et ces envolées planantes au saxophone.

Vous serez moins étonnés après avoir lu cette chronique de savoir que le second album de Bronski Beat, sans la voix de Jimmy Somerville parti fonder The Communards, ait moins fonctionné. Sans lui, The Age of Consent aurait été beaucoup plus commun. On peut retrouver un petit peu la saveur de ce qu'aurait donné un VRAI second album, avec le trio d'origine sur l'album de remixes et de démos Hundreds & Thousands ou sur certaines versions « expanded » mais pour la suite, on préférera passer du côté des Communards plutôt que chez Bronski (mais bon, vous me connaissez, je vais écouter les deux quand même !)

[contraspectacle]

☿ KONTAKT-HI 12.15.23 PLAYLIST

☿ GUEST DJ CARSON GREENWAY

☿ thank you so much for your support — we're gonna be switching up formats pretty frequently to try and bring something new to the town and diversify the genre exposure, but we had a great time and you're definitely gonna be seeing this one again.

☿ please support artists on bandcamp. never have they had to work as hard as they do in current conditions.

☿ substitutions may be made for unavailable tracks/versions in the streaming playlist.

☿ next KONTAKT event TBA — we hope to see you there.

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☿ 10:00PM (NON SERVIAM)

Gina X Performance - Be A Boy

Cerrone - Miss Wagner

Vivien Vee - Higher

Casco - Cybernetic Love

Klapto - Mister Game (Flemming Dalum Remix)

Angela - Fantasy

Eighth Wonder - Cross My Heart (Dance Mix)

Nuovo Testamento - Heartbeat (Curses Remix Edit)

ABC - How To Be A Millionaire

Trans-X - Imagination (Original Album Version)

Chinaski - Blood Patch

Vicious Pink - Cccan't You See (French Extended Mix)

Axodry - You (Beauty & The Beat Mix)

Sacred Skin - Bitter Heart

Pet Shop Boys - I Want A Lover

Yello - Vicious Games (Mark Reeder's Wet & Hard Remix)

Visage - The Anvil (Extended Version)

Tobias Bernstrup - Nylon (Hy-Nrg Mix)

Frankie Goes To Hollywood - Relax (Club 69 Future Anthem Part 1)

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☿ 11:00PM (CARSON GREENWAY)

Coco Steel & Lovebomb - Feel It

Tears for Fears - Pale Shelter (Groovefunkel Deep Shelter Remix)

Hawke - 3 Nudes

Kylie Minogue - Can't Get Blue Monday Out of My Head

The Art of Noise - Catwalk (Ground Mix)

Everything but the Girl - Missing (Todd Terry Club Mix)

Pet Shop Boys - I Want to Wake Up (Johnny Marr 1993 Mix)

808 State, Bjork - Ooops (Eric's Cup of Hysteria Mix)

Depeche Mode - Enjoy the Silence (Riki Tiki Mix)

Daft Punk - Daftendirekt

---

☿ 11:35PM (NON SERVIAM)

Shannon - Do You Wanna Get Away

BPM AM - Come To Me (Vocal Version)

Siouxsie and the Banshees - Kiss Them For Me (Kathak #1 Mix)

The KLF - Justified & Ancient (Stand By The Jams 12")

Madonna - Into The Groove (Shep Pettibone Edit)

Secession - The Magician

Baby's Gang - Challenger

Modern Rocketry - Deeper N Deeper (Ultimix)

Duran Duran - A View To A Kill

Anne Clark - The Haunted Road

Beyond the Struttosphere - Astral Riders (Rigopolar Remix)

Kim Wilde - You Keep Me Hangin' On

Bardeux - Hold Me, Hold Me (East LA Club Mix)

Fun Fun - Give Me Your Love (Harris & Hurr Extended Mix)

Madeline Goldstein - One More Day (Some Ember Club Mix)

Bronski Beat - Smalltown Boy (Arnaud Rebotini Remix)

---

☿ 12:35AM (CARSON GREENWAY)

Frankie Goes to Hollywood - Two Tribes (808 State Mix)

Leftism - Afro Left

Porn Kings - Up to No Good

The Art of Noise - Dreaming in Colour (Your Dream of Mine)

Soft Cell - Memorabilia 91

Alice Deejay/Quad City DJ's - Slammin' Off Alone (Carson Greenway Mix)

Heaven 17 - We Don't Need This Fascist Groove Thing (Rapino Club Mix)

Utada Hikaru - Simple and Clean (Planitb Mix)

Madonna - Ray of Light (Victor Calderone Mix)

Underworld - Born Slippy (Nuxx)

---

☿ 01:10AM (NON SERVIAM)

Geneva Jacuzzi - Cannibal Babies

Happy Mondays - Hallelujah (Club Mix)

The KLF - 3AM Eternal

Units - High Pressure Days (Rory Phillips Remix)

Leftfield - Open Up

Taylor Dayne - Tell It To My Heart (Tempo Club Mix)

The Future Sound Of London - Expander (Remix)

Wonderland Avenue - White Horse (Original Mix)

Corona - Rhythm Of The Night

Fortran 5 - Heart On The Line (Voodoo Child Mix)

SNAP! - Rhythm is a Dancer

Bananarama - Venus (Marc Almond's Hi-NRG Showgirls Remix)

David Bowie - Hallo Spaceboy (Pet Shop Boys Remix)

JK - You Make Me Feel Good (Hyper Go-Go Remix)

---

☿ artgoth ☿

[libidomechanica]

Was I

A limerick sequence

               I

Lambro’s care done. Them aside; her view want wide eyes, renderness. Thou shall sleep    I never lost columns    drowsie day by light is they feet, and time, her mind I read. Was I.

               II

She princess! True heart has take heede them pleasures for her, I am strive; you’ve    hearts as a double lies    and was Johnny’s love, for vice of these thee, when for sorrow clay!

               III

Rhyme at lays of Fame, and character, hook-ups and sex. Nor doe betters were    is not know its goblins’    hairs, worthy mind dear again. Her smile, and the true sentiments.

               IV

With swimming Polly Stewart, when the blades. Now her forced then—speak. And    undefinable talked, each base    desire dost the cannot that surfaces that which thicken.

               V

May there along demon eye untrue. Of speak in. Married: but no bee shadow    loud line were: then roving:    mercy vould it sounded she far-fleeth afresh—Desire!

               VI

Among them back again? Heart do only sin. On the fangs shades of praise,    however beings not your    mind. I’m sensible and tears bereav’d of brutal songs them pause.

               VII

Their sins frore, such admir’d. Now where great with Loves have strict ordeal was anythings.    And Johnny’s heel, and    he same, cool wave imprint wide ebbs in her wine, all this temper?

               VIII

So let us moan, and trace; her uppers that same reduced the story I    by thy own relieve this    is no great cruel, love, little bosom stand. For was born for it.

               IX

Thy for I wish’d, so fail to the trouble your hand round now she’s bones. Yesterday    he is that sing bees.    Of there busy brain with though those of face, and languid lilies.

               X

To his become round. That she shalt remain of sin; if I, indeed, lo! I    scarce saw two marble’s flit,    there are thought! Before the could slack renown, but her, how the rents.

               XI

Low vibrating more. Hath new poem ever-dying said he it’s youth of    passings passing when are    done. Are nobody, and nighting as long as their pole! The laws.

               XII

With command; heav’n is alive a new Venus, as a snow she men and each,    spiking, especially    wrapt upon dead, and soft voice, of that. Her be thou mayst below.

               XIII

Perhaps she fell into the eyes fled! A kingdoms of my youthful Hippocrene,    but fears follow above    me travel’d undiscernment to bed of herself alone?

               XIV

In trace to a woman looks one stooped; and this watery of verse’s best:    t was as pearl. While light    tormed’st the Heaven, he, with pity age stared it with a boughs!

               XV

The lassie be; weel my ain lassie, kind by some proved the vale. What the strong    we have I presence comfort    spatter. Led the man, till I shall my pen, and ennui.

               XVI

Yet, lover’d without I speak me tell me and sweet was warm Southern back afraid    of another, O    troth. On hew him stone I so be unmilked all heroine.

               XVII

The hollow set fruit, as ye: and tempestuous lie with them death; a smile    looming, Die, oh! Besides    amber on the tenor’s drooping—oh cruel mocks, we two starved for?

               XVIII

Past, and cannot advantage mayst invited guess. And some get our laws with    Death, so soon’s crooning visage.    The fiction; he gave no peace a peaks so hardly can be.

               XIX

Says the fears. A little. Of proud water, I saw that Love him, the had see    the lighted, Alas, fondly    be. In transferr’d of his danger, ever shut eyes, or nigh.

               XX

The too, was charms SHE along. Juan was vanquished beyond a smiled in paradise,    miserable, notes were    now should minute with the caught brief, the lists, although verdict form.

               XXI

Ah for ones, which made love nor ever boy, with Subject only from the public    meane no more see, to    come to me. But for further open first by us, the view?

               XXII

She drap o’ the flowers, worth do stood the move, and therefore or a qualified    it. My father she    scarce find they length, by they were to which were inheritance, mud.

               XXIII

There him whose sufficient work with Age— how some like each, but we cannot rose    or a young in disgrace.    I know him—I will comes to rendering no lights; you pleasant.

               XXIV

They could she hill-side; there; and wake, were veneration drop the words sang of    Ida sound an earth my    spoke not to see. Blood by Reproofs, save. Not my headache ashes.

               XXV

Two pleasure: it is, and there’s joy. But when my tears, I folly ripe, ripe    in me; and each others,    by Natures, the closed to conquering whence all might tempests world.

               XXVI

Were the moonlight worth that influence with devotionless store five physicians    know, and love save beauties    brawl which destroy. Ow said, Within and which women, and stair.

               XXVII

Given to they looks on a betters in summoned die. And they do right, both    Susan’s in self, never    lose rose-mark their tended in a belle Dame stage, old Susan Gale?

               XXVIII

Thus, my Katie? Thou set him whom young plain ordeal was Ida with what touch,    nor him for cheek: nor was    all the Helles, for thy brethren he dreams around the lovers.

               XXIX

So man, and a singest the wind. Juan reply: yon clime intoxicating    too farewell; perhaps, and    bounted in the stagger an’ mother certain, upon a shield.

               XXX

This fairly know; for seeking, “Die, oh! All your idiot gainsay long. Last    I should have bid my minds    one of the river, the Master’d in palace it lay it green.

               XXXI

Her fate, the hill a difficult. Poor they feelings, flew with gentleman solemn,    proudly miscarries    clomb of sighing, dwells asunder first words, and you will forgive?

               XXXII

Blue brand, and shore, I was! When thousand which humouring in clamour. You! Almost    true! Whether, if bright    with you mine eyes may reason what her forest acquainterpret!

               XXXIII

Idiot boy! Soul is, and yet and pulling tears the mens fast, a hermitten,    in the lake I stood    on the love the end or nest of Poesy, accordinary.

               XXXIV

But beat thee then the sway, descending from such I love, belong, and was stung,    the hath retreater at    least, unto my bosom standing, yet, do hang upon herself!

               XXXV

Cast as so much, ’ I saw in April, I leans, Russian wrecked thee mad earth, tasting.    Anxious Angles year,    went survive to see her lull its gold to keep her soul abroad.

               XXXVI

To prayer. ’ Unseen upon the sport which much I have imply love she silent    me but feel because    me, lay quite scene it bittering with theirs—their luck out a rope.

               XXXVII

Ask me not at their stare lay somewhat your pony’s in Christened to old way    groan; when her love, no destroy.    No watches: and ne’er rents, survivor bulging by wander!

               XXXVIII

From the furies cleere. We pacem oh my Emanation, and not all thee    is worth’s unknown, comes back    afraid of conuersation was a few favouring, in souls!

               XXXIX

I have reconciled; for the eyes the care, life. With her hand: thus down, proud of    all, compass, that whether    lay quite, and error into Eternity as I divine!

               XL

Which alone; she halls to fill that our joys: a purple islander clouds o’er    handmaids, before love in    weary of her idiot boy? The pony noise, but, Betty!

               XLI

In play. With me say, you for some home, quite hawthorn. Make there’s tale pursuing    dew. So nimble    houseless likeness, that can I dream countenants had but being!

               XLII

Thy showers, dear doting girl to our own blood by thinking too much pretence    and toss’d sae pawkie is with    what time Apollo plucked in the Turkish moist any. Their charms.

               XLIII

Will seas would beauty,—that are that has made love, when exquisitely die as    we weathed forbear note,    in theirs—the replied, Soft mood. Aye vow and so upon the pearl.

               XLIV

Come to ye, whose beast day—that come to like the call, maz’d, celebrated the    grave heat snatched it maks us    loaded Eagles yellow; let it, every in a carved life.

               XLV

And a dark how, which less eyes, their it, and must; so fairer the sat all the    strange us, and I wants    in flowers, and wreath thee and his race. The oak and touching it?

               XLVI

To be a history makes of itself so wary, unheeded to sleep, and    bloom misted Pine, that neither    mouse, an’ I’ll takes not tell me wives, forgive our bed. With grow.

               XLVII

A posy of new era form’d for whole things; she spoken pleasure broken    flame, but that I cant would    alone full cabin, forgive? But we met with devout to see.

               XLVIII

Rode o’er who kept, as dark moved but debate, again by the child! Pages. He    gazed, and the heaven to    mine each other foreshows us mair pure, fie! Not be back.

               XLIX

That she but just aboundeth. My heard her Grace’s crystal entry cling I    forgive the fishes as    true, you’llhave tarry Fays; embrace my wife spices of Heaven.

               L

I do, and leaves liked poet’s houseless the horrid, her e’re. A Seven    more his Love—the room which    one woman like knowing at through the hare young in whispers force!

               LI

A jug of men winters, grow a woodbine between to tell your call’d a hare,    more still the bride; and, and    Haidee gazed on her? Can ye that slay the clear March of one goal.

               LII

Oh me! A stitch beard,—all their curls, the pale sicken fluctuation. As if    her would sleepers form that    opposition of that more they might the could pour hair behind.

               LIII

Or where is always when the cross that is head. He also a simple muse    in your fancy. When wilt    thought has her husband of her utter, clear strife, they tale hamburg.

               LIV

One sight to the made thee down, and the rose in tuned hill, so pales, or came or    roots a looked not a fair    ynought! Tis not ask me sit, you readed, filth the has floor, pale.

               LV

Two woman, to correct and silken fluctuation of one by silk and    wish’d, sad, lo! Now doth some    other fed wiping balks each otherwhere’s notice it live!

               LVI

Of pleasure! With buds steps walked our days appear’d na a flowers out, as a    think? The tenor; they free,    I Stella, he water. Your girl to part. That charming in wide!

               LVII

We were the immortal name days, thought at the courts—borne all you almost the    road, then, deny, in the    worth’s unconstant ayres of this sick. Moan, and come touch of the heart!

               LVIII

Your brain, and tremulous be a sense inquire to ye, my Katie,—canst the    same sae warriors, or of    that no wretches. Calling white pearls hand how that blow: the must end?

               LIX

And if I were the world of all be held had see, should man. All not fail’d—so    the pallor whom you wrought    his failing fence’s tales of thy name; yet refresh is mankind.

               LX

With slave been me within an Angel with the blood and kiss her amorous    men for ever that God!    Where winding world is flooding to die; in my ain lass were ring?

               LXI

The farce! My Friend, whose whose from false to spilt fairest and undevelopt man    is gone of all the hold    that of hollow’d my brows; in moss, that hath, of another call?

               LXII

Beat, and grovelled her knew the sobbing the other might flow confined moment    light, and bare-headed    within camps, in mossy said she shriek, an old rank grass. That speak?

               LXIII

But idiot boy. Young gentle doubts: yet, Dianeme, ratherly Absál, past,    how fain bed in there’s    life, the whole chamber the sky, yet the staunch of Love first—my lad.

               LXIV

No, seem’d sometimes had heart. True, her skin: with vigour. And there breath, to see a    certain, since that paddle    of flies, all the strewn flowers, wax’d for being songs o’er him, there.

               LXV

A dreadful images hereat close, with the Almight my heart in France full,    and a doctor free, for    he contempt the moon will strong. With a volume of love forgive!

               LXVI

Left in the presence. The helpe reject, even know where spell thee so stylle    to see herd, and then the    love in sea-shore they did joys have kill, nor grief appellation?

               LXVII

That hast not her on her out of loved. Each sweetened like the possess shot a    flying. Hearkens after    marriage to the effigies to the rais’d her time, her heaven.

               LXVIII

As which ran acorn thought, of a grave, despite they are sonne forth wine are    permittent I would new. For    scarce him when on it would let us much past, fed with green firm?

               LXIX

Susan, I’d bid thee, and sickened, save one on mine and sea inside a    sound, or ripe, in guess to    spear-grass upon a zany. And down; to hospitality.

               LXX

The strictest shall summer climes with stronged it, the farthest from whither charme,    she one. Slowly cheek a    moment, there to the softest hinter’s great they are. Or foreign.

               LXXI

For bodies in earth’s voyage to oblivion lay; ye couch’d sociated    that doubtful years aware,    more, more I’ll low, and line, half-world unseen, on ever. The dead.

               LXXII

That I quite enough his bold Lamia broodings. That village great nature    might quite of my sweet by    some summer free; she learned in the sand; I had, nor his life.

               LXXIII

Seeing child! In aprylle, þat is, in gloss I wend; it is me say is    thine own refuses have    guest to write I, who ventures, on earth unknown the possible.

               LXXIV

Come hither, the fully would not; I know wherein moss. As this is them now    not on þe spring    obsolete, and queen attent with a love to mend, a little near.

               LXXV

And in came, an’ mother and she you heard her fetter knew, a still in pleasant’s    come host of Love—the    bury make: A dreaming of infant peace. Juan, in a cense tough?

               LXXVI

Between the presence now, and hatred hair was ancient forsooth, so faint in    her e’e. Says that appears    not somewhere much idly in far said, have is like a birds say?

               LXXVII

Come—falling you’d before. Then the guile, what thou needs the boughs! Drop down to lives,    and were red plate and mov’d    triangle left a twin contented thoughts; dull. If I, index.

               LXXVIII

Fill moves in height her use to blackguards were they rejoic’d in her pageant for    a wild! The gentle ruth,    and mute, and we have exactly and freeborn idiot boy.

               LXXIX

At the Nith’s unknown: they happy world altogether in the fairer may    sin. A modest invent    and golden far as the bring wants, forsworn. They thy bliss, nor tides.

               LXXX

Which my Emanation of still side, and he had dwelt and quaile as the    stream had ne’er beauty’s birth.    Rose-cheek with brings, his love O soul and of a sudden the rose!

               LXXXI

When I wouldst the was a heavens, but connubial talking, and she may come    to burn’d her parents. When    on flatter, and he sand, and still relented, what evermore.

               LXXXII

Your head—for him stared trembling dew. Caesar him—he as ye were dwell he might    I was: love’s no more or    thought could shore should be love. Tis so, but in difference. I knew tears?

               LXXXIII

This apartment, still down, not to find shelter’d from head, o whipt my side the    Vestal should on the men    separate: the most espect, that you might of hollows bare; and child!

               LXXXIV

And slip into the cried, let detected, unless over: out oft clomb to    thy soften, in will not    why, and now that lives. And lull in my graven akin. Surprise.

               LXXXV

Am but sin, ground and the strea’s beat that had to the plain any flower    came her will dared rose ripe,    rich the will I die. My heart—just lose thee is said I, ye view?

               LXXXVI

My mild among has leave one immortal, gaz’d: his horse? To have been reigners    break; till find those steel, thou    their behoof, whole. I lovely Paris led the fell in the hour.

               LXXXVII

—All we can it takes him out of life. Reason what the live wit, he should have    set pendulous sights against    thou mayst the very was war are exhausted, stated it.

               LXXXVIII

Yet look’d the as thou can those was never love to his hair. Now a’ thirty—    some good, its test, thus I    listendom. Sweet Naiad of you heart can it were is not to me!

               LXXXIX

Though lie, teach in that love, O troth, if it closely beauteous nights that river-    child! That like a wh—re.    The life—this, and your surface liked pony, Betty see, to bed.

               XC

Sit sight and only one might ever mind sights; dull and sigh’d forbid! And Johnny’s    wiping—the other    as if the cat’s one hast my heard with joy in the fortunate!

               XCI

To graces to the wind. And like these arms and honour in the mark the lips    of this time must not makes    high rated, upon the just part that repent, etc.

               XCII

But we glides’ death, and come distincts, brushed with his sicken fluctuation be    between sorrow? Sad rakes    men passions came night on Alisoun. Which makes they almost swell?

               XCIII

The London nightingale a lady found hew. As head. I do not unto    the woodland Morning letter’d    with strange that will the said—there’s tail, and he shakes thy way.

               XCIV

April of succeeded queen-Moon as it only one shores shoulder at O    loved, a deuil wants to blame:    they moved to her the change art; alas! Listens mechanter frost.

               XCV

I thoughts inner doom. Run on mince, to blasted friends; yet every ill of silk    seats and shriek with my bones    of they go. Applause, but that in such strange; my Lady Daphne!

               XCVI

Have given in apprehend dumb the Nith’s motive, in full and yet, to creature,    fie! Is mixed: then there    is an in faery land, to sends shooting from his kindled it.

               XCVII

Fond wars of what threw, a stitch of Love shade: but spare to you and thought that touching    it listen; and if    I have fallen, have been the heard of yore, the low voice and grave.

               XCVIII

Longing grace all the must, she garden, or timely disappear—the ground, inuade    moan. Now some from your    wake no very broad, and tread as human vanity, and firm?

               XCIX

Theirs was well. Neither Johnny’s little round the lives like that they bred thy    powerless, and I listened    beyond any eyes—the sun, and to this twitter weeds fight, sting.

               C

These your own heart out of cloud lines of these founded Florian: his know what    their sad heavy day was    charms. Hard love to Susan had sworn. There quite in the Spartan’s breath.

               CI

And honey to the flint! Then up in the sophist, unweave off she glowing,    yet without ensues from    the end only should be mind now in such as fallen: the fix.

[magnumversumplus]

| Crescendo: Interlude |

| Written By Joseph M. |

Saint Petersburg, Russia

9/29/2017 Approximately 23:00 UTC

“Впусти меня.” Lavashian grumbled. “I have business with the man behind those doors. Двигаться.”

The man in front of Stevens wore a black fedora, a black suit, white shirt, black slacks and black loaders. He looked down at Lavashier, who wore a sleeveless, off-color, and muddy white shirt and had root beer stains on his brown beard. “I will move when you learn respect, boy,” said Stevens. “Приятель.”

Lavashian tried to peek around Stevens, into those closed doors. “I have a meeting with the man behind those doors. “Пропусти меня.”

“And you will get your meeting. What is it you want anyway?”

Stevens leaned in and pulled Lavashian towards him. “The docks in Ukraine are being harassed by pirates. I overheard the plans–they’re harassing American shores next. I think it’s time we tell the boss to abandon our posts here in Russia.”

“You tell the boss yourself,” Lavashian muttered, opening the door to the boss’ room. Before Stevens entered the low-lit room–only illuminated by a small candle��Lavashian cried out, “Слава Україні!”

Stevens shouted, “Слава Україні!” He sat down with the boss, a man dressed in all white and wearing a white fedora. He eyed the boss and said, “Фрідріху, це пірати. The pirates are attacking us.”

“I know–I overheard your conversation outside,” said the boss. He intertwined his fingers, sighed and rose from his seat. He walked towards the windows and opened the blinds, allowing a blast of cold, winter wind to enter the room.

The boss thought for a while, furrowing the hairs on his gray beard until he managed to pluck one off. He reached under the table, fumbling through a drawer and returning to Steven’s awkward stare with a small metal device. It was a bomb with the shape and size of a wine bottle, it had a timer strapped to the side; it has red, yellow and blue wires running in and out of the metal scraps that forged its skin and a weathered steel handle and a glass tank that held toxic green fumes.

The boss continued, “The pirates will be attacking a power plant in America. A source told me this. You will plant the gas bomb in the main nuclear control center”–the boss handed Stevens a remote–”then use the remote to detonate the bomb. The bomb will not cause any damage to the environment and will only deliver a dangerous electric shock to any living being within a two mile radius.”

“On my signal, press the red button on the remote to detonate the bomb.” The boss saluted him. “Good luck, Stevens.”

| Credits |

| Story Title | Crescendo: Intermediate |

| Written By | Joseph M. |

| Edited By | Joseph M. |

| Cast |

| John “Johnny” Lavashian as John “Johnny” Lavashian |

| Peter “Petey” Stevens as Peter “Petey” Stevens |

| David “Davey” Visage as The Boss aka The Seer |

| Sets Used |

| Saint Petersburg, Russia |

[mondoradiowmse]

03/22/23 Mondo Radio Playlist

Here's the playlist for this week's edition of Mondo Radio, which you can download or stream here. This episode: "That's Pep!", featuring classic synthpop and more. If you enjoy it, don't forget to also follow the show on Facebook and Twitter!

Artist - Song - Album

Gary Numan - Me I Disconnect From You - The Complete John Peel Sessions

Tubeway Army - I Nearly Married A Human - Replicas

Ultravox - Just For A Moment - Systems Of Romance

Visage - Fade To Grey - If I Was: The Very Best Of Midge Ure & Ultravox

The Human League - Darkness - Dare

The Human League - The Sound Of The Crowd - Dare

Heaven 17 - (We Don't Need This) Fascist Groove Thang - Just Can't Get Enough: New Wave Hits Of The '80s, Vol. 8

M - Made In Munich - New York, London, Paris, Munich

M - Pop Muzik - New York, London, Paris, Munich

The Buggles - Living In The Plastic Age - The Age Of Plastic

The Buggles - Johnny On The Monorail - The Age Of Plastic

Née Tumi - (You Make Me Feel Like A) Beached Crappie - More Than Life Itself

Devo - That's Pep! - Freedom Of Choice

Devo - Snowball - Freedom Of Choice

Silicon Teens - Chip 'N Roll - Music For Parties

Silicon Teens - State Of Shock (Pt. 2) - Music For Parties

Depeche Mode - Puppets - Speak & Spell

Soft Cell - Bedsitter - Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret

Duran Duran - Girls On Film - Greatest

Thompson Twins - Love On Your Side - The Best Of Thompson Twins: Greatest Mixes

Japan - Gentlemen Take Polaroids - Poptronica: Romance

Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark - Messages - The Best Of OMD

Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark - Electricity - The Best Of OMD

Dark Facade - Losing Faith - Losing Faith (Single)

Colour Radio - Bound For Life - History In 3 Chords: Milwaukee Alternative Bands 1973-1982

Dark Facade - Fear - Losing Faith (Single)

Yazoo - Nobody's Diary - You And Me Both

Howard Jones - China Dance - Human's Lib

Bronski Beat - Smalltown Boy - The Age Of Consent

Eurythmics - Love Is A Stranger - Greatest Hits

Pet Shop Boys - Opportunities (Let's Make Lots Of Money) - Please

Alphaville - Red Rose (12" Mix) - The Singles Collection

New Order - Thieves Like Us - International

[noahsinclaxr]

Noah nodded at his sister's words, grateful that she was there as a buffer. He was a big boy and he could have handled himself had it been just him and the man he was about to meet. But should the conversation die down, at least Maggie would be able to step in, which was something. Meeting your father, or son, was always a strange thing. "I like that. My parents took me and my siblings to the park a lot. It was Johnny's favourite." He smiled at the memory, the little boy on the picnic blanket blowing bubbles. Throwing a ball around was something he couldn't do. He turned to Maggie when she spoke of Mr. Turner, which didn't ring a bell for him. Guess that was a tv show, or movie? he had missed growing up. Then he looked up at the man they moved towards, taking in every detail of his face, his build, searching for traces that reflected his own. He had his mother's eyes, but he could see some of his features back in the man's visage. Which was ... Strange. But he would have to actively search for the similarities. "Nice to meet you too, sir." Noah shook the man's hand, a strong handshake as he was taught. "I understand this must be strange, and that you have questions. Both of you must have." @maggiexsommers

She smiled at him and nodded. "He won't care." She told him. "But remember that I'm gonna be right there." Maggie said before she started leading the way and laughed. "No. He just likes the outdoors. Whenever we'd stop for breaks on the tour bus, he'd get us out and we'd run around in the park. My mom would hate it." She said and she waved to her dad. "Just remember he's an old rock star. He's cool. Like Mr. Turner on Boy Meets World. Minus the motorcycle because I wouldn't let him get one." She laughed before going over to her dad. "Dad, this is Noah. Noah, this is our Dad." She could tell her dad was nervous and he took a step forward with his hand out. "Jeff Sommers." He said and shook Noah's hand. "It's nice to meet you, Noah." @noahsinclaxr

[heroicheart]

iceman tag dump

[debtsunpaid]

now it smiles all the way, twin rows of misaligned shark teeth that click together like puzzle pieces. it's nice to be seen, really; bad enough living in this skin without pretending he's as weak as the fucker who gave it to him. ' smart girl. you know him, and that's close enough fer tax reasons, ennit? same noggin, only . . . seasoned. '

prettier by far, but to say so would be to put down his own charming visage, and with all the other ugly little specks of constantine littering its cobbled-together psyche comes vanity, as polished as brass. he pouts instead. ' awh, now don't take it personal. last time i saw the cunt, he was far from bein' the finest fish in the dating pool. was 'alf-expectin' to find a puddle of scotch an' soppiness, not that i mind this view instead. ' oh, that's rich. its laugh is low and gravely, a sound long out of practice that shreds his throat on the way up. the knife pulls away from his lips to angle back towards her, tip twirling slowly in the air. ' and you're one to talk about damaging a reputation, ennye? i'm not the one fucking him. '

step by step, he mirrors her movements to match her on the opposite side of the table, observing the way that she holds herself, how she moves around the space. how established is she, in this environment? what is she, reeking of starchild like a flophouse reeks of piss? he didn't come here looking to get evicted off the fucking plane; hell, he should have legged it as soon as he smelled her, but there's no turning back the clock on a shite idea. long as she likes johnny boy well enough to balk at the idea of smashing in his face, they're sitting pretty. and if not . . .

. . . well, it can always make sure his fucking creator eats the bill for that, further down the line. and maybe his own fucking tongue, as well.

' now who's threatening who with a good time? ' the offer puts him on his heels, solid red eyes narrowing as they dart between her face and the bottle. head cocking to the side as he searches for the trick. but there's nothing to see, that he can tell, and no harm doing in gathering a little information. maybe palling around with the girlfriend will get him a seat at the table, if he watches his words well enough. and besides: fuck, he wants a drink.

the knife swings up to eye level, gleaming in the light. then it clatters noisily to the tabletop, his open and empty hand wiggling long-nailed fingers at her as proof of disarmament. ' boring vanilla it is. g'wed then, pour up. been a dog's age since i've 'ad a palate cleanser, though i'd wager you're wetting your whistle around 'ere pretty often, eh? how long's it been since you decided to try yer standards at rock bottom? '

❛ no i don't know you, and don't call me love. ❜ lilly wants to add or i'll cut your tongue out but he seems like the type that might actually call her on that bluff. and sure, it's not john but holy fuck it certainly could be.

❛ if you've mistaken me for john quick enough to threaten me with a knife, i'd get your eyes checked. i'm a lot prettier. ❜ and a bit fucking shaken if she's being honest, this thing is ( almost ) a carbon copy of him and it's freaking her out. oh i am going to kill him for not telling me about this asshole. the knife slides away ( a little too slowly for her comfort ), and it's pressed to the lips of — jesus, what does she call it? ❛ you always threaten people you don't know with knives? can't imagine that's any good for your reputation, or your health. never know when you're going to threaten the wrong person. ❜

putting distance, and the table, between them is her first move. the second is to figure out what the fuck it's here for and get rid of it, if she can. the third is find john and figure out what the hell is going on here.

❛ you won't have any luck at twister either i'm afraid, terrible game, you might twist something permanently if you're not careful. ❜ slowly she reaches for two glasses and a nearby bottle of whiskey, taking a deep breath. careful with your threats girl, you don't know what hurting this thing might do to him. so lilly tilts her head in his direction and holds up the bottle and empty glasses, an invitation. fighting him doesn't seem like a good idea, and if they're connected somehow — maybe it likes her by extension. who the fuck knows anymore.

❛ i'll be honest, i have no idea when he's coming back and unless you're in a hurry to leave, can't see the harm is in chatting for a bit. no more knives though, got it? ❜

[allthingsmortalkombat]

Mortal Kombat Preference: Secret Side

Hello chiquistrikis, everything ok? I wanted to ask you, how would our kombat boys react to a girlfriend who is cheerful and innocent, but because she is a pervert they like to grab her ass and is a nymphomaniac? Thanks 😘

Hanzo Hasashi

On the outside, you seemed completely innocent. Your giggle and smile could warm anyone's heart. Your big doe eyes helped with the visage. However, Hanzo knew better than this. He knew one look would send you into overdrive; you would pull him into any vacant room near you in a heartbeat. He too was once fooled by your innocence. But after he had you in the bed once, he knew there was a darker side to you.

Kuai Liang

Kuai would be shocked when he accidentally brushes against you and finding you turning to gaze at him with lust-filled eyes. He had known you as innocent for the months you had been together. Quickly he realizes how "needy" you actually are. Any sort of touch of your hips or thighs drives you crazy, and he comes to notice this soon enough. However, he finds himself enjoying seeing you slightly squirm in need, and soon helps you take care of the problem.

Liu Kang

Liu Kang was typically more private when it came to your private time. But it was oh, so tempting for him to go up to you and grab your waste, making the gesture seem innocent enough, but seeing your doe eyes fill with lust made him somewhat smug. On the outside, you seemed pure and innocent like a flower. But on the inside, he knew there was more than that. He loved to see that side of you and couldn't stop himself.

Kung Lao

Kung Lao, once finding out about the less innocent side of you, would absolutely take advantage of that. He'd love to see you squirm when he brushed you while walking by. You could always see the smirk on his face after doing so. He loved to tease you and knew that it was so hard for you not to break. He was also fully aware that it would call for a long night between the sheets.

Johnny Cage

Johnny loved to show PDA in public because he knew that would switch your demeanor. You'd be happily giggling to something Jax would say to you, and then completely switch to a lusty gaze toward your lover if he ever grabbed your waste or tapped on your behind when he walked behind you. He loved to see this switch, and knew that it would turn you on quick. You would follow him and soon wind up in the bedroom.

Fujin

Fujin would more than happily do the things he knew turned you on, but only after you would assure him that it was okay. You had to really coax him into it; showing him that you were more than the innocent one he thought you were. Once he fully understood, he gladly would grab your hips from behind or lightly graze the side of your neck. He would do whatever it was that turned you on, and knew you were more than prepared to drag him into your bedroom.

Erron Black

Erron would absolutely take advantage of the side of you only he knew about. Though on the outside you seemed pure and happy all the time, he knew better. He had not fallen for it. He knew that one slap to your behind and you were jello in his arms, whispering to him how much you needed him and try to tug him toward the nearest vacant room. He loved that side of you and brought it out as much as he could.

Raiden

Raiden would absolutely enjoy the darker side of you that no one but him knew about. You conclude it was because of the slight darkness that ran through his veins. He'd purposely brush against you at any chance he got, rising your sexual tension with every touch to your body; sending sparks that felt like electricity down your spine each time. He knew that once you'd had enough you would easily be able to coax him into the bedroom.

Shang Tsung

Shang Tsung would be very smug when he found out about your darkest secret. On the inside, he knew you had this side that you did not show. Under your innocent visage was a lust-filled goddess that was waiting to be set free. Purposely, especially in serious situations, Shang would do something he knew would leave you bothered sexually, knowing that it would build up into the night until you could be alone together.

Kenshi

Kenshi felt your aura; he could tell how cheerful you constantly were, and hear how your giggle filled the room and made it seem much lighter than before. However, he also could feel something a little darker, and he was blatant when coming to you about it. This made you somewhat bothered telling him one of your darkest secrets, but you found it turned you on admitting such a dirty thing to your lover.

Nightwolf

Nightwolf was shocked when he found there was much more to you than an innocent, bubbly, happy girl. Though you were those things, there was a much darker side to you that he discovered merely by accident. He was simply walking behind you, his hand grazing your backside. That's when you turned to him, your eyes slightly glazed over. After that, he was more than happy to "accidentally" touch you in places he knew turned you on.

Jax

Jax would not know what to think at first when he found out about this side of you. He would be completely shocked mainly because he, like others, thought you were very pure and bubbly. However, he would come to enjoy it quick, knowing simple things such as touching your hip or shoulders would drive you to the edge, swiftly pulling him into a kiss and soon more in the bedroom.

[mondoradiowmse]

03/13/24 Mondo Radio Playlist

Here's the playlist for this week's edition of Mondo Radio. This episode: "Crisis Point", featuring classic synthpop and more. If you enjoy it, don't forget to also follow the show on Facebook and Twitter!

Artist - Song - Album

Gary Numan - Me I Disconnect From You - The Complete John Peel Sessions

Tubeway Army - I Nearly Married A Human - Replicas

Ultravox - Just For A Moment - Systems Of Romance

Visage - Fade To Grey - If I Was: The Very Best Of Midge Ure & Ultravox

The Human League - Darkness - Dare

The Human League - The Sound Of The Crowd - Dare

Heaven 17 - (We Don't Need This) Fascist Groove Thang - Just Can't Get Enough: New Wave Hits Of The '80s, Vol. 8

M - Made In Munich - New York, London, Paris, Munich

M - Pop Muzik - New York, London, Paris, Munich

The Buggles - Living In The Plastic Age - The Age Of Plastic

The Buggles - Johnny On The Monorail - The Age Of Plastic

The Cat Heads - Power, Love And Pizza - Hubba

Devo - That's Pep! - Freedom Of Choice

Devo - Snowball - Freedom Of Choice

Silicon Teens - Chip 'N Roll - Music For Parties

Silicon Teens - State Of Shock (Pt. 2) - Music For Parties

Depeche Mode - Puppets - Speak & Spell

Soft Cell - Bedsitter - Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret

Duran Duran - Girls On Film - Greatest

Thompson Twins - Love On Your Side - The Best Of Thompson Twins: Greatest Mixes

Japan - Gentlemen Take Polaroids - Poptronica: Romance

Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark - Messages - The Best Of OMD

Tears For Fears - Broken - Songs From The Big Chair

Dark Facade - Losing Faith - Losing Faith (Single)

Colour Radio - Bound For Life - History In 3 Chords: Milwaukee Alternative Bands 1973-1982

Dark Facade - Fear - Losing Faith (Single)

Yazoo - Nobody's Diary - You And Me Both

Howard Jones - China Dance - Human's Lib

Bronski Beat - Smalltown Boy - The Age Of Consent

Eurythmics - Love Is A Stranger - Greatest Hits

Pet Shop Boys - Opportunities (Let's Make Lots Of Money) - Please

Alphaville - Red Rose (12" Mix) - The Singles Collection

New Order - Thieves Like Us - International