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numberonestuckyshipper · 3 months

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I love the Howling Commandos so much, they’re so underrated if you ask me, especially the awesome dynamic they 100% had. I imagine all of them in very specific ways, some things are based off of fics I’ve read, some of it is just me.

Steve Rogers: Steve is the youngest of them all, he’s also the least experienced one and he hasn’t been part of the group nearly as long as the others considering he came into the picture after Kreischberg. He’s really fun to talk to and he’s as much of a little shit as the others are, being the leader of their group he’s in charge of tacking care of talking to superiors and shit, and he often ignores direct orders to do what he thinks is a better option, he also lets his team get away with things regular soldiers wouldn’t be allowed to do and they love him for it. He often gets yelled at by Bucky after doing stupid shit, the other Howlies often jokingly refer to him as “Dad” when it’s just them.

Bucky Barnes: Bucky has the others’ immense respect from the start, because he’s protective and caring as much as he hates to admit it. He is the only one who has negative amount of problems yelling at Steve after he did some stupid shit, he was the most scarred by Kreischberg but never lets it show. He loves music and always has a song stuck in his head and has fun pissing the others off by butchering the songs when it’s safe to be loud. He trusts Steve more than he probably should and goes with his plans, though he often forces him to modify them and cut down the crap. His protectiveness and strictness when Steve’s being a dumbass gets the others to nickname him “Mom” when they’re in private. He ‘hates’ it.

Dum Dum Dugan: Dum Dum was Bucky’s closest friend after Steve, he has a stupid sense of humor and says way too many dad jokes than is good for his teammates’ mental health. He’s always the first to jump at the opportunity to get his hands on some alcohol (no one complains about that) and he and Jim are the primary clowns of the group. He loves to tease the others, especially “Mom” and “Dad”.

Jim Morita: Jim is the one in charge of their immediate medical problems and small tech involved stuff, like Dugan, he has a shit sense of humor and they often get into battles of who can out dad-joke the other.

Gabe Jones: like Dum Dum, Gabe has known Bucky since before Azzano, and is the one in charge of languages, he speaks French and German more fluently than the others do and in the beginning he was usually in charge of dealing with Jacques’ bullshit.

Monty Falsworth: Monty is the only official member of the Howlies who isn’t broke (he is often teased about it). He could be considered the most sane of the Howlies (though not by far) he is the most experienced of the group to talk about strategy and often helps Steve and helps Bucky knock some reason into the little shit. They like to tease him for living up to every British stereotype and is often asked to ‘translate’ what Peggy says. He has a sister named Jaqueline who is a spy for the SOE.

Jacques Dernier: Jacques was a member of the French resistance, he’s from Marseille and is fully fluent in English but refuses to speak it. He understands everything the others tell him but speaks to them in French and lets them deal with it, after over a year of dealing with him all of the Howlies are more or less fluent in French. They call him a fucking pyromaniac because of his love of explosives and his talent with them. He also has a shit sense of humor that rivals with Dum Dum and Jim and is probably the most batshit crazy member of the team (though the others are pretty close behind him).

Howard Stark is considered an honorary member of the Howlies idc about any contradiction: rule n°1 when it comes to Howard Stark; don’t leave him alone with Jacques Dernier. They will set something on fire or worse. He and Monty are often laughed at for having money and they tease back by talking about rich people problems in front of the others. He is called a lot of names by the Howlies such as things like “Gadget”, “Engineer”, “Civilian”, “Civy” and things among those lines making fun of him not technically being a part of the military. He is involved in a lot of the Howlies’ inside jokes including the “Mom” and “Dad” thing.

#howling commandos #bucky barnes #Steve rogers #jim morita #dum dum dugan #Monty falsworth #Jacques dernier #gabe jones #howard stark #James Montgomery falsworth #Timothy Dugan #james bucky barnes #headcanon #howling commandos headcanon #Howlies hc

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hainethehero · 2 months

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So...I'm rereading Sugar Sweet Steven for the umpteenth time 🥰🥰 and I suddenly have many thoughts:

Stevie and the Howling Commandos! 👀

In this verse, did Steve and Bucky have to hide their love for each other from the outside world, or was it more acceptable as dom/subs exist? I saw that you mentioned Howard and Peggy helping out with Steve, but what about the Commandos? Do you think Bucky shared stories with his team about his sweetheart waiting back home for him? How did they react to this sweet boy saving their lives? Did they all take turns making sure their pretty Captain was taken care of, or did Steve cling to one particular person outside of Bucky?

I have so many questions about Steve and Bucky's pre-war and WWI days! But I'll leave at this for now. 🥰

Oh wow I've never actually thought about this. Good idea though! Because I absolutely love thinking about Steve in the pre-war days!

In the SSSverse I'd like to think Steve and Bucky don't have to hide their relationship. It's pretty normalized in this world. Dom/sub dynamics are definitely the norm.

I think Steve was Bucky's boy only. But he definitely sought comfort and shelter with his fellow Howlies. Especially Dum Dum, Gabe, Morita and James Falsworth. Whenever Bucky was occupied on base or away on something, Steve would have trouble sleeping. And so he'd cuddle with Dum Dum mostly, because he's a huge teddy bear and Steve gets clingy with his stuffies.

If Dum Dum was unavailable, he'd cosy up in between Falsworth and Gabe not only because they keep him warm but also because they tell the best stories for Steve to fall asleep to. (Sam reminds Steve of Gabe which is why he trusted Sam so quickly in the first place)

Jacques Dernier (a sub) teaches him French- which is why he knows certain phrases in French and can generally understand the language.

Before the rescue, the Commandos are all talking about their dames/lads back home. Bucky tells them of his little Stevie, the light of his life and also the bane of his existence because he's so darn stubborn and feisty. He describes Steve's love for art and his passion for protecting people. And he says he can't wait to get back to America because he's going to ask Steve to marry him and accept his collar.

So, you can imagine their utter shock when Steve, aka Captain America rescues them and he isn't at all like the skinny sub Bucky described. On the drive back, they all climb over each other to impress the pretty blonde who's blushing at all the attention and hiding behind Bucky's shoulder.

"I mean, you didn't say he was that pretty, Barnes," Dum Dum rumbles.

"Yeah," Morita chimes in, "instead of pretty little dame, he's tall, blonde and gorgeous."

Gabe says, "He's beautiful."

And Jacques recites something in French that has Steve blushing even harder.

Bucky goes, "Quit it y'all, my baby's shy."

And Steve just gives Bucky the look that just says, 'yeah, I like em.'

#steve rogers #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #the howling commandos #dum dum dugan #gabe #jim morita #james Falsworth #jacques dernier #catfa #captain america #sub steve rogers #bottom steve rogers #steve rogers is a bottom #sugar sweet steven #steve and his howlies #buckys boy #stucky

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akindablueddy · 2 years

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so.. I like to think that one of the USO showgirls was a former acrobat and taught Steve a few tricks to liven up their routine. And when the howlies catch wind of this...

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swan-of-sunrise · 2 months

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Turning Point (Tales From The SSR)

Summary: An influenza outbreak incapacitates the 107th Tactical Team while out in the field and as they work to nurse (Y/N) back to health, Steve and Peggy finally have a moment alone.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers X Reader (Platonic), Bucky Barnes X Reader (Slight)

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Hi guys! This one-shot was originally gonna be about something else entirely, but it sort of evolved into this and I went along with it lol thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!

Turning Point March 1944 The Forests of Mount Oeta, Axis-Occupied Greece (Previous One-Shot)

Three months after their official formation, the 107th Tactical Team found themselves camping out in the dense forests of Mount Oeta as they traveled through Greece to destroy the second of five Hydra bases scattered throughout Europe. The intelligence they’d received from the SOE and several Greek Resistance groups pointed to the Hydra facility – a weapons manufacturing plant similar to the Austrian factory in Kreischberg that many of their team had recently been held in as POW’s – being located near the village of Gorgopotamos. They’d been ordered to stand by for further approval from their commanding officers at the Strategic Scientific Reserve and not long after setting up camp in a frosty clearing, nearly every member of their team came down with influenza.

Falsworth, Dugan and Morita were the first of them to fall ill, quickly followed by Dernier, Jones and Peggy; Bucky seemed to luck out, only suffering very mild symptoms that cleared up after twenty-four hours and thanks to the super-soldier serum flowing through Steve’s veins, he was spared from catching the infection. (Y/N), being the only other person who hadn’t succumbed to the illness, helped Steve and Bucky care for the others and slowly nursed all six of their comrades back to health. However, it was then that the codebreaker herself finally came down sick and unfortunately, her symptoms were the worst by far; as the hours turned into a day and a day turned into two, she showed little to no sign of improvement and an unspoken fear of losing their beloved codebreaker slowly filled them all one by one. And since he was the leader of their tactical team and responsible for every single member he’d personally recruited, Steve was wracked with a heavy guilt that only continued to grow the sicker (Y/N) became.

“Cap? You with me, Cap?”

Steve tore his gaze away from the makeshift medical tent they’d erected at the start of their camp’s epidemic and looked over at Morita, who was sitting cross-legged on his standard-issue sleeping bag and attempting to tune their scuffed Stark Industries radio. “Sorry, Morita. What was it?”

“I was just askin’ you if you think we should use the radio transceiver to call for help.” He patted the portable SCR-300 unit as his chapped lips pursed in worry. “I know that Stark said it’s only got enough juice for one long-distance transmission, but (Y/L/N)’s not gettin’ any better and-”

“That transceiver’s our only way of receiving the order from headquarters to move in and we can’t afford to jeopardize this mission by using up its one and only transmission,” Steve replied, hating the tactical words he found himself uttering despite the indisputable truth they held. “I wish we could, but we have our orders.”

A disappointed but understanding look crossed Morita’s face, and he gave Steve a short nod before returning his attention to the radio resting on his lap. Steve’s jaw tightened in an effort to remain composed as he detected the faint sounds of the codebreaker vomiting into a bucket and as he paced around the wide clearing, he took a moment to survey their camp and its morose occupants; their days-long trek through the mountains of Greece meant that they’d all been cut off from any news of their friends and family back home, and (Y/N)’s poor health had only lowered their already dwindling morale. Falsworth and Dernier – both distracted by worry for their families’ safety back home in a post-Operation Steinbock England and Nazi-Occupied France – were heading off to their sentry duties while Dugan and Jones – who were on-edge since they’d caught wind of the successful sinking of the USS Grayback by Japanese aircraft off the coast of Okinawa, yet another American ship sunk since the start of the war – were coming back from their patrol. Morita, unable to contact his mother and grandparents imprisoned in a Japanese internment camp back home in the States, was preoccupying himself with tuning their battered radio so that they could catch up to date with any news from the front. Some leader I am, Steve scoffed at himself and kicked at a fallen pinecone as he paced, if I can’t lead them like this then how am I gonna keep them safe out there on the battlefield?

Hearing Dugan and Jones’ heavy footsteps approaching, Steve wiped the apprehensive look off his face and replaced it with a more stoic stare as he turned to face both men. “How’s (Y/L/N) doin’?” The tense silence of the camp was punctuated by the sounds of dry heaving emanating from the medical tent, causing all three men to wince in sympathy. “Poor kid. I really don’t know how we’re gonna get her back on her feet, seeing as we all used up the last of the medicine.”

“That gal’s a fighter, Dum Dum; you hear how she cussed out Monty when he tried takin’ her temperature this morning?” A smirk tugged at the corner of Jones’ lips as he shook his head and slung his rifle’s strap over his shoulder. “I think I’d rather try snatching a hungry bobcat’s dinner away than mess around with a sick Agent (Y/L/N).”

Before either of them could reply, the flap covering the entrance of the medical tent was thrown open and a worried-looking Bucky emerged with a bucket in his arms, making a bee-line towards the trio of men the moment he spotted them. “All right, the good news is that I think we’re close to breaking her fever and lowering her body temperature.”

While both Dugan and Jones breathed a sigh of relief, the expression on his best friend’s face made Steve frown and brusquely ask, “And the bad news?”

“She’s severely dehydrated and the lack of food’s startin’ to get to her; things are gonna go south real quick if we don’t get some food and water into her soon.” Bucky unceremoniously thrust the full bucket he’d been holding into Dugan’s arms, ignoring the older man’s cry of protest and Jones’ snickers. “Get this cleaned out and when you’re done, have Morita give you a hand with the laundry and be sure to start with (Y/N)’s clothes first. I’m gonna take a look at our K-rations and see if I can’t whip up somethin’ that’ll be easy on her stomach.”

When both Dugan and Jones looked over at Steve for his authorization, he gave them an approving nod and watched them both hurry away to carry out their orders. “What can I do, Buck?”

“Go and help Carter cool her down; I’ve got her placing wet cloths onto her wrists, ankles and forehead, the same as what your Ma and I did when you caught scarlet fever back in ’31, and see if you can’t get her to drink a little water while you’re at it.” Despite his visible concern for their codebreaker’s deteriorating health, a ghost of his trademark grin flashed across his face. “All I got for my efforts were some pretty un-ladylike threats about where she’d shove the water canteen I offered her, so maybe you’ll have some better luck.”

Steve, knowing full well that his best friend was harboring a small crush on the team’s quick-witted codebreaker but wanting to keep his secret, simply nodded and patted Bucky’s shoulder as he strode past him; when he reached the flap of the medical tent, he politely cleared his throat and waited for Peggy’s welcome before entering. (Y/N) was lying on the cot, dressed in a sweat-soaked white shirt and khaki trousers with wet cloths strategically placed along her overheated body, and Peggy was seated next to her with a troubled look on her face as she gently dabbed a damp rag along her best friend’s face. Judging by the pallor of her skin, the dark circles under her fluttering eyes and the erratic heartbeat that only a super-soldier could hear, it was easy for Steve to see why Peggy and Bucky were so worried for her.

“Oh no, not you too,” (Y/N) croaked out when she finally noticed Steve’s presence, weakly smiling as he took a seat on the other side of her cot. “I already told Peg and Bucky that I’m as fit as a fiddle.”

“And I already told you that you’re as stubborn as a mule.” Peggy’s words were playful, but the brief look she gave Steve conveyed the anxiety she was fighting to mask for the codebreaker’s benefit. “Perhaps Captain Rogers can convince you that your only job right now is to rest, not to waste energy arguing with me or threatening Sergeant Barnes with bodily harm.”

The codebreaker let out a frustrated groan. “But there’s still codes-”

“And you’ll be able to decode ‘em when you get better,” Steve interjected, his tone gentle but resolute. “You spent days nursing the rest of the team back to health, so now it’s your turn to let us take care of you.” He poured some canteen water into a tin cup and held it out for her to take. “So, could you do me a favor and do as Peggy says?”

After a long moment, (Y/N)’s jaw unclenched and she managed to muster up a faint chuckle before taking the cup from him. “I always said that ‘do as Peggy says’ should be the SSR’s official slogan…” She forced down the water and while Steve took the empty cup away, she gave Peggy a small apologetic smile. “I’m sorry that I’m being a pain in the ass, Peg. It’s just that I…I’m not used to being fussed over. I can’t…help but feel like a burden…”

The codebreaker’s eyelids drooped and her labored breathing subtly evened out as she lost consciousness, but her heartbreaking words hung heavy in the dead-silent medical tent. Although they’d only known one another for two months, Steve was well-aware of (Y/N)’s turbulent relationship with her family and the hardships she’d faced throughout her childhood; it saddened him to know that such a kind and compassionate woman was deprived of the sort of loving home that he and Bucky were lucky to have grown up in, and it made it all the more unfair that she was suffering after tirelessly caring for her teammates in their time of need.

A quiet sniffle caused Steve to look up from (Y/N)’s clammy face, and he felt a pang in his chest when he caught sight of Peggy wiping a tear off her cheek; when the agent’s reddened eyes met his, she gave him a saddened smile and quietly spoke. “From the moment we first met, (Y/N)’s been like a sister to me and since my brother Michael’s death, I can’t…I’d rather not imagine living in a world without her.”

Steve returned her smile with one of his own before reaching over the cot and tentatively resting his hand atop hers. “(Y/N)’s a fighter, Peggy. She’s gonna pull through this, and it’ll be because she’s got all of us here to help her out.” Peggy’s expression softened and Steve felt his face warm when she set the damp rag down and gave his hand a grateful squeeze. In an instant, it dawned on him that they hadn’t been alone with one another since their disastrous confrontation back at the SSR’s headquarters after his and Private Lorraine’s kiss; he awkwardly cleared his throat and slipped his hand out from under Peggy’s, picking up the rag and dabbing it into the bowl of water perched on a nearby crate as he attempted to keep his emotions in check. “I’m, um…I guess I’m not really used to being on this side of an illness,” He remarked, wringing the rag out and carefully placing it across (Y/N)’s heated forehead. “It’s a strange perspective, being the caregiver instead of the patient; I’m usually the one lying in bed with a hundred and two degree fever.”

“Doctor Erskine mentioned that your medical history was rather extensive…” Peggy stood and leaned over to adjust the codebreaker’s makeshift pillow, and her sympathetic eyes met his when he moved to help her. “I can’t begin to imagine how challenging your life was before Project Rebirth.”

Returning to his seat, Steve removed the cloth encircling (Y/N)’s wrist and wetted it with fresh water, his gaze fixed onto his task as the memories of his childhood in Brooklyn and the hazy memories of each of his life-threatening illnesses invaded his mind. “My ma – she was a nurse, you see – she always told me that God blessed her with a baby he knew she’d have no trouble raising on her own. He sure as hell didn’t hold back his punches, either; before high school, I was diagnosed with asthma, scoliosis, arrhythmia, high blood pressure, astigmatism, pernicious anemia, stomach ulcers, sinusitis, fallen arches, and I had a couple of bouts of colds, rheumatic fever and scarlet fever. But none of that ever stopped her…” His eyes stung with the urge to cry but he forced himself to remain composed as he continued. “She told me that nothing in heaven or hell could stop her from taking care of me.”

“Your mother sounds like a strong-willed woman. Is she…?” Sensing her hesitancy, Steve shook his head and out of the corner of his eye, he saw her purse her lips and fiddle with the end of her braided hair before continuing. “She'd be very proud of the man you’ve become.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat and chuckled to disguise the unexpected emotion the agent’s thoughtful words brought on. “I’m still just that skinny kid from Brooklyn, now just with a serum that gives you muscles and an iron-clad immune system.”

“You’re more than the serum.” Peggy’s gentle and affirming tone caused Steve to look up and meet her sparkling brown eyes. “The serum would be nothing without the good, kind-hearted man it empowers,” She reached across the cot to rest her hand atop his, causing Steve’s heart to race and a blush to color his cheeks. “You’re my hero, Steve.”

There was a sudden and palpable shift in the air as Steve studied the agent’s eyes and took in her words. Although he’d undergone an incredible physical transformation that saw him go from sickly to the epitome of strength, the way Peggy looked at him never changed; it was clear as day that she meant exactly what she’d said – after all, Peggy Carter was hardly one for mincing words and had no issue speaking her mind in any given situation – and that realization only made Steve’s admiration and unspoken attraction to her grow. With a soft smile, Steve twisted his hand around to intertwine their fingers and shyly replied, “You’re my hero, too.”

Peggy’s smile grew but before either of them could say or do anything further, Bucky and Dugan burst into the medical tent; they both quickly withdrew their hands from one another before either man took note of their intimate moment, and Steve hastily averted his gaze from the equally-flustered agent seated across from him. “How’s the patient doing?” Bucky asked, oblivious to the conversation he’d walked in on as he set a bowl of broth down onto the nearest crate and moved to replace the cloth on (Y/N)’s forehead with the back of his hand; after a moment, the look of concern written across his face softened and he breathed out a relieved sigh. “Her fever finally broke; she should be okay after we get her to eat and drink a little.”

“Oh, thank heavens,” Peggy beamed and a reassured Dugan ruffled her hair before ducking out of the medical tent to inform their teammates of the good news. “Ste-Captain Rogers was able to convince her to drink a little water after you left.”

“And Peg-Agent Carter managed to cool her down with the wet cloths,” Steve added, awkwardly clearing his throat when his best friend glanced over his shoulder and arched a curious brow at him. “So, um, you made soup?”

Bucky chuckled. “Well, my ma sure as hell wouldn’t call it that, but a bouillon cube mixed into boiling water’ll just have to do.” With the gentleness of a well-seasoned caregiver, he nudged (Y/N)’s shoulder and smiled when her eyes finally fluttered open. “Hey there, doll. I know you’re tired, but I’ve got some food here for you; it ain’t easy makin’ these K-rations taste edible, but I worked a little magic just for you.”

Groaning, (Y/N) allowed Bucky to help her sit up and Steve, not wanting to be in their way, stood and gave Peggy a small smile as he made his way to the tent’s flap. “I, um…I should go and check in with the others. Would you tell (Y/N) that I hope she feels better soon and that she’s to continue following your orders until she does?”

“Of course. And Steve?” He turned around in time to catch the tender look etched across Peggy’s beautiful features, illuminated by a smile that caused his stomach to lurch in a not-so-unpleasant way. “Thank you, for opening up to me.”

Steve nodded once and returned her smile with one of his own. “And thank you, Peg.”

Arching a quizzical brow, the agent quietly asked, “What for?”

“For listening.”

And as Steve turned and walked out of the medical tent, all he could think of was the way Peggy had looked at him and how happy he was that they’d seemingly moved on from their turbulent encounter back at headquarters. When the war’s over, I’m gonna buy (Y/N) (Y/L/N) every single Andrews Sisters record and box of herbal teabags I can get my hands on, Steve silently vowed as his smile grew into a full-blown grin.

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A/N: Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new one-shot. Enjoy!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0iKzLZlEK1rTaSIiW5zRlk?si=97af3c9ce3ff4b65

“Tales From The SSR” Masterlist

“Specs and the Flyboy” Masterlist

Tagging: @nnon-it-up @fluffymadamina @remmyswritings @ourstarsailor @coffeeandcrimeshows @darkusangelus @josis-teacup @marvel-jackt-loki-buck @yeetyeetchickenmeat @sameoldbaby @theserenityspace @seeing-but-not-observing @supervoldejaygent @momc95 @brooke0297 @kinda-c0nfused @outoftheregular @mads-weasley @mostclevermiss @crowleysqueenofhell @groovy-lady @xxruinaxxmcu

#tales from the ssr #specs and the flyboy #steve rogers x peggy carter #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #steve rogers #captain america #peggy carter #agent carter #bucky barnes #dum dum dugan #jim morita #gabe jones #jacques dernier #james montgomery falsworth #howard stark #michael carter #strategic scientific reserve #marvel cinematic universe

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fangirlfreak08 · 2 years

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Rewatching captain America:The first avenger and my god I’m way too obsessed with the howling commandos

#captain america the first avenger #catfa #Steve rogers #Bucky barnes #Jim morita #dum dum Dugan #gabe Jones #jacques dernier #howling commandos

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headcanonthings · 2 years

Conversation

Dum Dum: Hey Cap, is that a picture of all of us inside your shield?

Jacques: That's so sweet, you must look at it a lot.

Steve: I do, anytime I'm facing an adversary I look at this picture to remind myself that if I can deal with your dumbasses I can deal with anything.

#incorrect quotes #incorrect avengers quotes #incorrect captain america quotes #marvel #mcu #Avengers #dum dum dugan #Jacques Dernier #Steve Rogers #captain america #the howling commandos

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marvel-at-hogwarts · 2 years

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#harry potter #harry potter au #hogwarts #hogwarts au #marvel #marvel at hogwarts #mcu #dum dum dugan #bucky barnes #jim morita #James Montgomery falsworth #gabe jones #jacques dernier #howling commandos #gryffindor #hufflepuff #ravenclaw

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bandaidfingers · 5 months

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more Nick Fury doodles, except um :) Nick Furry

+ some of the Howling Commandos

#nick fury #nick fury agent of shield #sgt fury #sgt fury and his howling commandos #marvel #in case anyone in the world cares about the howling commandos know that my other commando fursona assignments that I didnt draw #are Eric Koenig kitty. Jacques Dernier fish (maybe a rainbow trout?). Happy Sam as either a golden retreiver or a bear?#Junior Juniper bunny. and Jim Morita fox :)#hmm maybe Junior should be a lamb actually …

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papyjeanmarry · 1 year

Video

youtube

PAPY JEANMARRY CHANTE LA CHANSON DE JACKY DE BREL #60925USA #6092New...

#youtube #bien sûr vous savez que j'aime beaucoup Jacques Brel !!j'ai chanté beaucoup de ses chansons !les marquise c'est son dernier album ces derniè

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mellowchouchou · 2 years

Video

youtube

Jacques Brel - Le dernier repas

#Le dernier repas #Jacques Brel #Les Bonbons #chanson #French pop #French music #pop music #Europop #old pop #music

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au-jardin-de-mon-coeur · 3 months

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Un enfant,

Ça vous décroche un rêve

Ça le porte à ses lèvres

Et ça part en chantant

Un enfant,

Avec un peu de chance

Ça entend le silence

Et ça pleure des diamants

Et ça rit à n'en savoir que faire

Et ça pleure en nous voyant pleurer

Ça s'endort de l'or sous les paupières

Et ça dort pour mieux nous faire rêver

Un enfant,

Ça écoute le merle

Qui dépose ses perles

Sur la portée du vent

Un enfant,

C'est le dernier poète

D'un monde qui s'entête

A vouloir devenir grand

Et ça demande si les nuages ont des ailes

Et ça s'inquiète d'une neige tombée

Et ça s'endort, de l'or sous les paupières

Et ça se doute qu'il n'y a plus de fées

Mais un enfant

Et nous fuyons l'enfance

Un enfant

Et nous voilà passants

Un enfant

Et nous voilà patience

Un enfant

Et nous voilà passés

Jacques Brel, un enfant

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anticbrvtalist · 5 months

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La mort de John Balance

« Le pouvoir occulte et magnétique de l’Angleterre » ! Où donc ai-je lu ces mots ? » (Léon Bloy)[1]

Nous ne croyons pas à la mort accidentelle de John Balance ; nous pensons seulement qu’il sut prendre congé à temps. Sans doute était-il fatigué de tituber dans un monde qui meurt. Dès la fin du siècle dernier, Londres n’était plus la capitale du Royaume-Uni, mais un cratère foré par l’économie monde, plongeant à pic dans le tiède enfer du non-lieu global. Même Ian Sinclair se lassera – certes, quinze ans plus tard – de longer la M25, le London Overground, d’invoquer les esprits de son occulte psycho géographie, d’exposer aux non-initiés ses cartes imaginaires dont la topographie n’évoquera bientôt plus rien à personne. Nous fûmes victimes d’une illusion d’optique : le capitalisme ne sévit pas à l’état liquide mais gazeux : tout ce dont il a épuisé la valeur d’échange s’évapore, disparaît. Même les ruines.

John Balance le savait : ce Londres occulte, dont il partageait la fascination avec quelques grand initiés, Allan Moore par exemple, le Londres de Jacques l’éventreur, d’Austin Osman Spare, de William Blake, d’Arthur Machen, de la Golden Dawn, de Thomas de Quincey et sa chère Ann, ce Londres s’était tout entier évanoui ; et bientôt, ferait défaut jusqu’à l’humanité encore accessible à de tels souvenirs. Il aura vu le dôme du « Millenium » émerger, les quais de la Tamise se border de buildings en verre, leur enfilade de docks, de hangars désaffectés, se muer en malls, en galeries polaires, en lofts pour yuppies. Sans doute s’effrayait-il d’y voir son avenir, d’imaginer Coil diffusé dans une quelconque annexe de la Tate Gallery, distraitement écouté par des hordes de touristes asiatiques ou de jeunes cadres apatrides de la City, sujets au burn-out, rompus au binge drinking, tous d’une désespérante tolérance. Il le devinait : jamais plus Londres ne serait « la cité des résurrections »[2]. Cette ville lui était à ce point devenue étrangère qu’il ne pouvait plus suivre à l’instinct les affluents de la Tamise, ces méandres aux propriétés magiques jadis cartographiées par John Dee : la Fleet, la Tyburn, les rivières de Stamford brook et de Walbrook. Désormais incapable de soulever les strates de l’histoire immédiate, mais toujours possédé par son Londres mythique et souterrain, John Balance se sera, à quarante ans, enterré vivant.

L’un des derniers albums de Coil, Times machines, fut la première tentative musicale de dissoudre le cours du temps. Peut-être Balance avait-il le pressentiment d’une prochaine catastrophe dont il désirait, de toutes ses forces, différer l’avènement. Peut-être devinait-il que Londres, puis l’Angleterre tout entière, allait devenir telle qu’elle figure dans la série Black mirror : le cadre d’un nouveau cauchemar dystopique sur le point d’envahir le globe. D’instinct, en bon britannique, et donc un peu chauvin, il savait que l’Angleterre, depuis le XVIIè, énonce l’ordre du monde, Rule the world. La mission historique d’Albion s’achève, mais reste son imagination, suffisamment fertile pour nourrir les cauchemars du monde entier : « England has a black earth ».[3]

« Les poètes sont toujours les premiers à s’en aller » remarquait Ian Sinclair. John Balance fut un précurseur : aujourd’hui, c’est le peuple britannique tout entier qui tâtonne vers la sortie, cherche machinalement son âme comme on s’assure de la présence d’un membre fantôme. Le Brexit, bien sûr, ne résoudra rien. Le Royaume-Uni, hier galion corsaire cinglant à l’avant-garde, aujourd’hui vieux rafiot à la remorque des États-Unis, tourné vers l’ailleurs, le grand large, l’Océan Pacifique peut-être, pour une dernière aventure.

NO SOCIETY

John Balance, c’est avant tout l’homme en marge. Il n’eut pas assez de sa courte vie pour apprendre à se défaire du monde. Très jeune, il comprit qu’il est vain de pester contre le « système », de fantasmer un grand soir, aussi n’ayons pas le ridicule d’en faire un nouveau « suicidé de la société » : cette dernière, il sut la tenir à distance, cultivant l’art de la clandestinité, luttant constamment contre toute forme imposée ; et cette lutte lui fut source de bonheur – « Disobediance is the key of joy ». Dans la lignée d’un Pasolini ou d’un Genet, Balance vécut son homosexualité comme une malédiction, un défi, trop orgueilleux qu’il était pour quémander la reconnaissance des foules, de l’État. Pourquoi briguer une impossible normalisation, source certaine d’un supplément de souffrances ? Inutile de se rassembler, d’exiger de nouveaux droits : aujourd’hui comme hier, toute singularité draine la vindicte. Le seul acte militant de Coil, la reprise de Tainted Love assortie d’un clip horrifique, suffit, dès 1984, à écarter tout malentendu : les niais partisans de la cause arc-en-ciel, glacés, passèrent leur chemin.

Bien plus qu’un simple pas de côté, la vie de John Balance fut esquive, dérobade radicale. De la société, il se retrancha, mais de biais, faisant sien l’enseignement d’Austin Osman Spare : le monde ne se comprend qu’appréhendé latéralement, surtout les êtres humains, dont on ne peut saisir quelques parcelles d’âme que lorsqu’ils ne vous voient plus, vous ont oublié. Cette approche oblique strictement observée, la politique et le social ne survivent qu’à l’état de souvenir, de vague rumeur ; une rumeur, c’est-à-dire un bruit, un son, que l’on peut prélever, domestiquer, puis torturer à loisir avant de le restituer, méconnaissable, à la société épouvantée.

À force de pratiquer « l’usage agressif de la fantaisie »[4], Coil avait acquis dans certains milieux londoniens une étrange réputation qu’ils cultivaient avec malice. Christopherson, alias « Sleazy », faisait parade d’un sadisme bonhomme et discret, évoquant à mots couverts auprès d’un auditoire choisi certaines chambres de sa maison de Chipswick, une notamment, entièrement peinte en noir, les murs tapissés d’images des 120 jours de Sodome, une autre encore, où il enfermait de jeunes hommes pour les piquer d’aiguilles. Ces étranges inclinations vinrent aux oreilles du cinéaste Clive Barker qui leur offrit de composer la bande-son de son film Hellraiser avant de se rétracter, effrayé. Pourtant, à les voir, rien ne laissait deviner de telles dispositions : quelques photos nous les présentent de noir vêtus, cheveux ras, encapuchonnés dans d’informes sweat shirts, soit la défroque ordinaire de la tourbe des « teufeurs » de l’époque. C’est qu’ils étaient passés maîtres dans l’art de l’infiltration, pour preuve, dès 1991, ils avaient déjà, par les albums Love is a secret domain et The snow, corrompu la techno. Le dancefloor, par eux investi, devint expérience claustrophobique, se changea en caisse à stridences psychiatriques, infernale chambre d’échos balayée de part en part d’un souffle d’outre-tombe.

Un député tory, bien sous tous rapports, les traita de « naufrageurs de la civilisation ». « Les gens comme il faut » sont tels car inaptes à l’introspection ; n’examinant jamais leurs pensées, ils sont bien incapables d’identifier la racine d’une dé-civilisation dont ils déplorent incessamment les effets : cette passion maniaque de l’homogénéité qu’ils possèdent tous en propre. Les membres du Temple of the psychic youth, en dépit d’un mode de vie suicidaire, jalonné d’expérimentations sordides et dangereuses, eurent d’emblée le pressentiment de l’avènement d’un monde unidimensionnel, hostile à toute intériorité. « Nos ennemis sont plats » scandait P-Orridge, faisant inconsciemment écho aux paroles d’un Barrès, qui, à l’apogée de son « culte du moi », au début du XXè siècle, déclarait : « Les barbares veulent nous fondre en série ».

MAGICK

Coil, en anglais, signifie rouleau, spirale, nom à la fois banal et le plus occulte qui soit : la spirale est lieu de réversion, premier point d’attache des cycles qui se fondent un instant pour nier le temps ; son centre est aussi point d’infini qui abolit l’espace. Coil fut la quête de ce vide qui est puissance absolue mais aussi sens premier, originel. Effet du hasard ? le symbole de la spirale ornait déjà les couvertures de la revue Le Grand jeu, soixante-dix ans plus tôt. L’histoire révèle à périodes régulières quelques jeunes gens suffisamment mécontents pour oser, par leurs propres moyens, forcer le monde invisible à rendre son secret. John Balance s’identifiait à René Crevel mais ce serait plutôt à Roger Gilbert Lecomte qu’il faudrait le comparer, Gilbert Lecomte, comme lui poète égaré dans son inlassable quête d’« états de stupeur fixe ». (...)

#john balance #coil #peter christopherson #counter culture

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frenchcurious · 5 months

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Probablement l'un des derniers arrêts aux stands de la Porsche 917 K #023 d'Hans Herrmann & Richard Attwood vainqueurs des 24 Heures du Mans1970. © Jacques Violet. - source Carros e Pilotos.

#hans herrmann #richard attwood #porsche #24 heures du mans

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aurevoirmonty · 11 days

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Les Occidentaux «haïssent la Serbie parce que c’est un peuple fier, qui ne reçoit pas d’ordre»—George Galloway

«Le peuple serbe est son propre peuple. Ils croient en eux, en leur religion», explique le député britannique.

Et ils ne reçoivent pas d'ordres de ces régimes occidentaux qui cherchent désespérément à les pousser à la haine de la Russie

Dernier exemple en date avec un Emmanuel Macron qui vient de sommer (https://www.francetvinfo.fr/monde/europe/l-avenir-de-la-serbie-est-dans-l-union-europeenne-nulle-part-ailleurs-insiste-emmanuel-macron_6476129.html) Belgrade de s’aligner sur les décisions de politique étrangère de l’UE. L'avenir de la Serbie est «au sein de l'Union européenne et nulle part ailleurs», a-t-il insisté.

Ce qui, venant d'un pays qui l'a trahie il y a 30 ans (https://www.revueconflits.com/kosovo-serbie-yougoslavie-jacques-hogard/), peut tout a fait s'entendre comme une menace, alors que Belgrade vient d'être invitée (https://t.me/kompromatmedia/5245) au prochain sommet des BRICS.

L'UE, qui veut faire de la Serbie son arrière-cour, souffle déjà sur les braises du Kosovo-et-Métochie (https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kosovo-et-M%C3%A9tochie) et s'en prend ouvertement à ses intérêts vitaux en ayant donné son feu vert (https://t.me/kompromatmedia/5212) aux négociations d'adhésion de la Bosnie-Herzégovine.

«Il s'agit d'une pression générale sur la Serbie et son peuple», a récemment déploré le président Aleksandar Vucic dans un discours à la nation, expliquant que le pays allait vivre des moments difficiles.

Mais dans un monde en plein bouleversement (https://t.me/kompromatmedia/3919), c'est aussi une occasion unique de s'émanciper.

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homomenhommes · 3 months

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saga: SOUMISSION / DOMINATION 86

Il était grand temps que nous terminions, minuit allait bientôt passer.

Avec Marc, nos deux serveurs et les quelques qui prenaient une pause avant de recommencer, nous sommes aller chercher le champagne.

A 0 heure pile nous avons fait péter les bouchons dans un arrosage style arrivée de grand prix automobile.

Sous la pluie pétillante, les derniers emboîtés ont juté, libérant eux aussi leurs pressions internes !

Après avoir vidé 6 bouteilles sur nos corps moites du plaisir récemment pris, nous avons tous trinqué à la mort de 2009 et l'avènement de 2010. A la bouteille, dans une coupe (plastique question de sécurité), sur un corps (léchage d'abdos) ou même à la bouche d'un ami, nous avons éclusé une bonne dizaine de bouteilles.

L'euphorie passée, le vin a tendance à puer et coller, nous nous sommes donc lavés ou relavés sous les douches. Puis retour au salon. C'était amusant de constater que les plus jeunes n'avaient revêtus qu'un jock avant de monter alors que tous ceux de plus de 30 ans avaient opté pour le peignoir, bien que leurs physiques n'aient rien à envier aux plus jeunes !

Après cette première séance de baise, les appétits étaient aiguisés et nous avons pillé le buffet que nos beurs avaient installé juste avant minuit. Alors que nous avalions, huîtres, coquilles saint Jacques, foie gras et autres reconstituants, le nettoyage de la salle de muscu avait commencé. Entre deux " tartines ", je descendais voir si tout allait bien. Je trouvais nos deux hommes de service, trempés, en train de laver au jet la salle du sol au plafond, les tatamis mis à sécher, accrochés au sling. Le choix du carrelage, de la peinture époxy et de l'inox n'a laissé que les rails de guidage des fontes à sécher au chiffon.

Je remontais vite retrouver nos invités. En haut de l'escalier, Ric m'a sauté dessus qu'on a faillit repartir en chute au sous sol. Il voulait juste me dire que c'était le meilleur nouvel an de sa vie. Même si le calme régnait, les mains n'étaient pas pour autant inactives. Caresses des flancs, des dos, des culs et même jouant avec des bites, lascivement, sensuellement, au grand plaisir des caressés. La pause s'est éternisée deux bonnes heures. Comme nous (les plus jeunes) avions encore faim de sexe, et que je voyais que si rien ne bougeait on allait tous s'endormir, nous sommes partis au donjon. Accompagné de Ric, Jean et Jean Black, Tic et Tac, Arnaud et Pierre, Manu, Théo et Jérôme, j'ai traversé la cour. Emerveillement de ceux qui ne connaissaient pas les lieux, je leur expliquais vite fait les différents " agrès " et faisait visiter l'étage.

Ric demanda à Tic de lui graisser l'anus puis, il utilisa son instrument préféré : la selle à gode. Manu, Théo et Jérôme qui ne le connaissaient pas furent stupéfait de ses " capacités ". Debout sur les étriers, Ric, lentement s'est laissé descendre jusqu'à se poser l'anus sur le gros gland de plastique noir. Je me collais dans le dos d'un Théo captivé par le spectacle. Quand le gland noir a pénétré Ric, j'ai enfoncé ma queue dans son cul. Pendant ce temps là, Tac attacha son frère les bras en croix contre le mur puis demanda à Manu de l'attacher à son tour juste à coté. Jean, Arnaud et Pierre se sont installés dans les trois slings centraux. Jean Black en profita pour leur donner ses 30cm à téter à tour de rôle. Je quittais la douce chaleur interne de Théo pour organiser les derniers. Manu et Jérôme se sont retrouvés pliés en travers de selles les poignets attachés aux pieds des tréteaux les supportant. Quand à moi, je me suis couché, le dos sur un tatami avec Théo embroché sur ma bite. Le timing n'a pas été trop mauvais car nous n'avons pas attendu longtemps avant d'être rejoint par nos aînés, Marc en tête.

De nous voir tous présentés à la saillie les a excité un maximum. Dès l'entrée les queues se sont dressées gorgées d'un sang bouillonnant.

Kev et Eric se sont jetés littéralement sur Tic et Tac et sans attendre avec juste une kpote et un peu de gel, ils les ont emmanché direct (heureusement pour Tac, il s'est pris Kev !).

Marc, Igor et Bruno ont investi les 3 culs mis à la bonne hauteur par les slings.

Phil et Luc un peu vexés de n'être pas venus avec nous sont montés à l'étage avec Frédéric, Seb à leurs basques, Olivier et Nicolas s'occupant de Manu et Jérôme. Au vu de l'enregistrement, dès leur arrivée, ils se sont fait plaquer sur le maxi lit et menottés aux pieds. Et ils n'ont cessé, pendant pas loin d'une heure, de se faire enculer et envahir la gorge par leurs 4 poursuivants.

Au rez de chaussée, la température augmentait, les saillies se faisaient plus viriles, entre ahanements et gémissements.

J'appelai Jean Black et Ric puis changeai de position. Théo sur le dos, ses jambes à mon cou je l'enculai de nouveau, cette position dégageant l'accès à mon anus. Très excité je demandai à Jean B de me sauter. Kpoté, graissé comme il faut, je me calais bien au fond de Théo. Avec délicatesse (vu le monstre qui l'équipe) il m'a pénétré. Les 22 / 24 premier cm sont passés sans soucis (il est très long 30cm mais pas excessivement large environ 5cm). Tout doucement, je l'ai senti continuer sa progression. Quand je l'ai arrêté, il ne lui restait plus que 2cm en dehors de mon cul !! je venais de prendre 28 cm de bite dans mon cul ! un record jusqu'alors les 26cm d'Eric et de Xavier étaient mon maxi. Pendant ce temps là, Ric s'était mis en 69 avec Théo et mes abdos frottaient son crane lisse. Vorace, il est arrivé à lui bouffer la bite et les couilles (ok 16x4 avec des petites couilles ça facilite le travail !) pendant qu'il lui bourrait la gorge profondément. Je suis sorti de Théo et après leur avoir fait faire un 180°, kpote neuve, je profitais du trou de Ric. ce salaud, s'appliqua par de fréquent serrement de son muscle anal à me chauffer grave. Entre son cul et avec la bite de Jean ;B dans le cul, psychologiquement hyper excité, je n'ai pas résisté longtemps et après un limage d'1/4 d'heure, j'ai rempli ma kpote. Mes contractions anales ont eu raison de la résistance de Jean B et il a juste eu le temps de sortir, d'arracher sa kpote avant de me couvrir le dos d'une dose impressionnante de jus. Au même moment j'ai vu le sperme de Théo inonder le crane de Ric comme le sien maculait le torse de Théo. Nous nous sommes étalés sur le tatami pour récupérer. Le spectacle offert par nos amis valait le meilleur film de cul au monde !

Tic et Tac plaqués contre le mur n'en pouvaient plus de se faire ramoner par Ric et Kev. Et nous avons eu le plaisir de les voir éclabousser le mur de leur sperme frais.

Un nouvel arrangement s'était fait et Manu et Jérôme se sont fait achever par Igor et Bruno, leurs jus coulant sur les étriers.

Nos trois amis (Jean, Arnaud et Pierre) se sont éclaboussés de leur sperme jusqu'à en avoir dans les cheveux (grosse excitation = grande pression) alors que leurs enculeurs (Marc Olivier et Nicolas) ajoutaient une nouvelle couche sur leurs abdos.

C'est dans le silence d'après coït que nous avons tous perçu les gémissements et autres éructations orgasmiques provenant de l'étage.

Comme par enchantement nos deux serveurs sont apparus, avec plateaux de reconstituants. On les a pillé des boissons et petits fours. Je notais au passage que leurs queues avaient pris un volume raisonnable. Pendant que nous baisions comme des bêtes, ils avaient du se vidanger l'un l'autre !!

Le quatuor de l'étage nous a rejoint eux aussi exténués de leur partie de sexe.

Passage aux douches. Malgré les savonnages mutuels, pas ou peu de réaction physique. Nous étions tous, pour le moment, essorés de la moindre goutte de sperme !

Vers 5h du matin, au radar, nous nous sommes tous dispersés dans les différentes chambres, quelques un se faisant un dortoir à l'étage du donjon. ;Nous avons accueillis dans notre grand lit un Ric ravi de son nouvel an et un Théo reconnaissant.

JARDINIER

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