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rolandrockover · 4 months

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Reprise Vol. 1 - Master & Slave

I think it's no big secret that Paul doesn't have much good to say about Kiss' Carnival of Souls. To put it mildly. Or he simply does everything imaginable to at least create such impressions whenever this album title should rarely enough become the subject of an interview question. Of course, he's welcome to do as he pleases, but personally, from my humble perspective, I think it's a bit of a shame, because I can also remember times when he spoke a tiny bit differently about it.

For example, I can still remember the time when the subject of a reunion was still treated as fictitious, and it wasn't on anyone's horizon, least of all Paul's and Gene's. That was back in 1994/95, when Kiss' laudable motto of perseverance and giving their best was for a change increasingly emphasized in their new music.

I still remember very well that regular little Kiss feature in the German Rock Hard magazine, which was supervised by their Kiss Die-Hard (0), and from whom one got the vivid impression that he regularly got a certain insight into the world of our favorite band. I think it must have been February or March 1995 when Paul and Gene (1), but also Eric Singer (2), apparently got in touch with the interviewer directly from the rehearsal room in a telephone interview and Paul confidently said, not without his usual side-swipe at Gene, that his songs were much more melodious and heavier than Gene's. There was a certain pride in that. At some point later he even went so far as to claim that the new album was the best and heaviest since Creatures of the Night.

Oh my! What I mean, since that's a rather thoughtful and equally rare tribute to their own music, which was previously only outspoken to give a very special shine to the indeed excellent Revenge, and the return to form associated with it. And I must add to this Paul seemed quite proud of Revenge in 1992 regardless of how hard he had contributed to the previous albums in the 80's anyway. But who knows, once again, it was probably just the latest sensationalization of the upcoming album (3). Promotion is a double-edged sword, but to wipe Revenge away so succinctly because of it, I really don't know. But maybe and probably because it wouldn't have sounded so good to say their new album was the best since... their last one.

But to get my act together and to at least briefly talk directly about Master & Slave in this context.

So, as I already mentioned in my original entry, Master & Slave had the working title: Paul's Riff. In my perception, this suggests pride and respect, not necessarily from Paul himself, but clearly from his band environment. And the fact that such a meagre, yet all-saying no-name was chosen as accepted as a working title, if not even honored from everybody involved clearly speaks for itself.

And because this is a reprise, I'll simply feature an excerpt from my original text about what I see in this song:

"What begins in Not For the Innocent with a few approaching, ominous tones, continues in Unholy as a small extension in a slightly different pitch, and a much more compact back and forth oscillation of these tones, which thereby does not form the entire riff, but only a complementary part of it. In Master & Slave the whole thing gains in drasticness, and the motif is doubled to a lower pitch, added to the previous one to secure its terrain, only to turn into a Black Sabbath motif a la After All. An endlessly repeating highly dynamic acrobatic feat in loud and quiet/guitar and bass contrast."

When writing Master & Slave, Paul must have thought to himself: Ok Gene, a dark album full of Unholys shall it be? This time I'll listen to you, then you shall get Unholy. Which must have stimulated his ambition to try to outdo Gene in terms of Unholy by more than a small margin. I think the result shows in all strength what the right ambition can achieve.

"To conjure up this wet dream of riff Paul must have really tried hard and done his very best to achieve such a result - regardless of what he claims about Carnival of Souls as a whole today."

It is a real pity that he no longer stands by it. Gene and, above all, Bruce (4) seem to have fewer problems with this.

Side Notes:

(0) Jan Jaedike.

(1) Gene emphasized the psychedelic component and compared Carnival of Souls to the Rolling Stones' Satanic Majesties Request (1967) (5) , and that they couldn't explain either why it sounded different from the previous album.

(2) Eric said the album was super heavy and exactly the kind of music he wanted to play. I love to mention this because he had also clearly distanced himself from Carnival of Souls over the past few years. Klassik.

(3) Can anyone still remember how they loud-mouthedly advertised Crazy Nights as a mixture of Animalize and Destroyer back then? There's even a Youtube video of it, but don't ask me where. Anyway, that was still was something different.

(4) Or the last of the Mohicans, as I like to call him.

(5) Hmm, which Stones album did Ace's cover of 2000 Man actually come from?

Master & Slave starts from the beginning. Unholy and Not For The Innocent are highlighted. Turn up the volume and open your ears, I assume no liability:

Master & Slave (1997)

youtube

Unholy (1992)

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Not For The Innocent (1983)

youtube

I'll add After All by Black Sabbath on top.

After All (1992)

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broke-art-girl · 25 days

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"Lick It Up." By Broke_Art_Girl

(This is an gift to A_Tw1nky_Guy on AO3)

Fandom: Bones and All, Kiss (Band), Webkinz.

Summary: Lee gets hungry after hanky panky. He ends up coming home in a lot of pain. Reader comforts him and gets him some Webkinz and KISS merch.

Words: 3k+

Characters: Lee, Gender Neutral Reader (specifically did not say Y/N))

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54960784

We sit cuddled up on the reclining sofa you bought after we.. broke the futon doing unholy things. Oops.. But you've kept asking for that position since, so…

“I wish this place had more of you in it.” You say out of the blue as we watch evening jeopardy and do aftercare.

Kissing and holding each other softly. Surrounded by each other's smells and warmth. I'm pretty tired, I figure I'll have to go find something in a day or two but I'm not too worried about it right now. I'm sure your tired too, so I keep good check on how much water your drinking and if you feel sleepy.

I chuckle. “My dirty boxers are all over the place, I think that's enough.”

I got a sharp punch to the arm about halfway through that sentence, but it was worth the blush on your face. “You know what I mean!” You hiss cutely.. I think it was meant to be harsh. “Other than your Webkinz collection, there aren't many signs that you live here.”

I sigh. Usually that's the point. Don't have a lot of stuff in case you have to bolt in the dead of night. I hate this but I still keep that old blow up mattress in my truck. Just in case something happens.

“Yeah. I just don't have much to put in here.” I say with the least amount of sadness possible in my voice.

“Well, we'll have to look for things you like when we go thrift shopping and yard saling. I bet a record player would be perfect right-” you drag it out, holding your thumb and index fingers up on both hands as if you were framing for a camera shot. “-there.”

You're focused on a small table under the mounted TV.

I nod. “It would.”

|✯|✯|✯|

Its 12am and all I can think of is Food.

Super sized burger combo? McFlurry? Fries at the bottom of the greasy bag?

No.

I want the server.

My head is foggy and my whole body feels like I'm on fire. My stomach is growling loudly.

I needed it. Flesh. Warm, bloody, human, flesh. I'm hungry.

And you're lying next to me.

I don't know what happened! It was fine hours ago, then all of a sudden, I felt like I hadn't eaten in months.

Sneaking out is always the hardest part. You're so sweet and understanding about my “condition” as we call it, but God bless you, you get so clingy every time I need to go.

“Lee?” You groan as I slowly slide my torso out from between your legs. I swear you treat me like a body pillow. I pretend to hate it but truth be told, it makes me feel wanted.

“Mhm?” I answer, hoping that you're sleep talking.

“Where you going?”

The tone of your little voice breaks my heart. “I'm hungry, I'll be back soon.” I whisper as I lay a hand on your arm over the old comforter. I felt like anything more would push me over the edge.

“Kiss?” You ask, practically beg.

I hate this part. The longing, the need, the lust, desire, and hunger that prevents all of it.

“I can't.” I mumbled through gritted teeth.

Usually I can give you maybe one or two pecks on the lips, every makeout session has to be broken up into little pieces, breaks in the bedroom. I have to make sure I'm careful with you.

“Oh..”

And my heart broke even more.

“I'll be back before ya know it, I swear, just go back to sleep.”

“Love you..” You whine, I can tell you're hoping that it will make me stay. But I can't.

“Love ya, too.” And as quick as I can I have my clothes on and shoes tied. It's only then that I notice one of my Webkinz on the floor. I quickly stoop low and grab him. A small husky I named, Bandit.

“Can you hang on to him for me? He keeps falling off the bed.”

You smile in the dim light. “Course.”

“Thanks.” I smile down at you. Yearning for that kiss I can't have.

I'm out of the room now, grabbing my pocket knife, phone, and keys to my old truck.

I hear you call for me right as I unlock the door. I quickly run back to our room. Well, your room, it's your apartment. I just live here...

“Yeah?” I ask.

“Be safe."

I smile to myself. “I will. Love ya.”

“Love you more!”

I chuckled. No way.

|✯|✯|✯|

My shoes kept sticking to the bottom of the sidewalk, I looked back to make sure there weren't any footprints left in blood. I can just imagine what I look like. The apartment security wont like that. God I feel sick to my stomach. I go around to the back of the apartment where there's a water hose. I use it to spray myself off as best as I can. The cold water and the pressure was like icicles stabbing into me all over.

I was soggy all over, my jeans causing me to chaf like balls all the way back into the apartment. I cringed at the feet squelching sound across the carpet and the puddle that dripped off me in the elevator.

After I snuck back into their apartment, being extra careful of the squeaky hinge, -God I need to spray some WD-40 on that thing, I keep forgetting.. Anyway! I creep to the bathroom under the mildly flickering streetlight. Dogs barked as the pipes rattled all the way down to the water heater in the boiler room. I hope they didn't wake you up. I'm sorry if they did, but I can't face you looking like this. Like a savage.

Excess blood that didn't come off with the hose dripped down my chin, sprayed across my abdomen. It's disgusting even to me, let alone the Non-Eater in the next room. I grabbed a black washcloth I stole from the salvation army.. sorry salvation army.

The Old spice you got me for Christmas always makes me feel.. normal.. somehow as it buffs away the gore I cause. You like the husky warm smell, and I like the attention you give me when I smell like that so that's a plus. I scrub everything away, making sure to take good care of my joints; under arms, neck, between my fingers, behind my ears, stuff like that. Cracks and runs in the skin where it could get stuck and dry. Especially in my nails.

I wash my hair with your shampoo, supposedly it's color saving somehow, I don't know. I just like the feeling it causes on my scalp. All bubbly and soft. It smells like you.

My stomach just keeps feeling worse and worse. I know eating junkies isn't the best thing to do, but nobody else was out at 12am. I've had to tough out many illnesses, thankfully the worst thing ive ever gotten is the flu.

Your name rings through my head the whole time. It's perfect. It's home. Even though you prefer a pet name; baby, honey, or the most heavily southern twanged version of darlin’ I've ever said, (and oh I love when you call me cowboy~) I like your name, your actual name, the best.

I heard the thudding of foot prints as the cramping almost folds me.

“Lee?”

“M-mhm.” I groan in discomfort.

“You okay?” That sweet little voice.

“Yeah, I'm alright, Darlin'”

I hear you get giddy, giggling and squealing in excitement, it distracts me for a moment as I smile.

“You hurt?” You ask.

“Nah, just a stomach ache.” I reply, starting to finish up.

I can see the outline of your pj's. My big ol hoodie that hits your body in just the right places to make you look like a little kid and a runway model at the same time. I remember days when that hoodie was the difference between just being cold and getting hypothermia for me on the road. I'm thankful I don't have to live like that anymore with you.

“I've probably just.. um..” I search for the vaguest word possible. “Food poisoning..??”

“Oh.. bad flesh?”

“Please,” I drag out the word. “-don't say that.” I shake my head, the warm water feeling less like a hug and more like tiny stabs. "That word should never come out of your mouth." I sigh.

You paused. “But, am I right?”

I give a deep sigh. “Yeah..” I say after a bit. The running water and small barking are the only sounds for a little. I feel like maybe you don't take this nearly as serious enough as I want you to. Like you think it's some kind of fantasy.

“Okay. Maybe tomorrow you can just rest.”

“Yeah, I gotta lay low for a bit. After.. you know-”

“-yeah.” You say as if it were nothing. “Well, I have work tomor-”

“-I'm gonna get a job too, don't worry, I just can't-”

“-yeah, right, I know.” You sigh.

We take turns trying to get a word in over each other until I'm clean. Probably twice as clean as anyone in a hazmat suit. I hop out, covering my semi chaffed junk and smirking because I know how you think. I think the same way.

I wrap a towel around my waist and immediately begin scrubbing my teeth. Pre-rinse, Brush, Listerine, Floss, everything. All while feeling like I’m gonna vomit any second.

You give me small light kisses on the hand that's gripping yours as we walk to the bedroom. You insist I lie on the side you usually sleep on, because it's warm, so I do because I don't feel like arguing. I wrap my arms around you and you do the same, nuzzling into my chest. You try to help me feel better, offering me pain killers that grew too weak when I was like.. nine, cigarettes, and eventually give up.

“I just wanna sleep.” I whine, holding the cramping spot on my stomach.

“No cigarettes? Wow you must be really sick.”

I chuckle. I do need to quit, road jitters aren't the best. And a pack only lasts me a week nowadays. “Yeah. Like I said. Food poisoning.”

“I understand.”

“Good.” I say as I pull you close. You take your hand and start rubbing circles on my abdomen. I grunt and groan as you hit sore spots but all in all it feels good.

After the bite of quietness we both took, I whisper, “I'm glad I have you.” as you keep rubbing.

“I'm glad I have you, too.” You whisper.

You cuddle and nuzzle my chest and face as I get tired. My eyes get heavy and I start to slowly pant after the pain gets a little bit worse until finally it calms a bit. After more kisses to my cheeks and eyelids, I'm finally able to nod off, uncomfortably.

|✯|✯|✯|

The next morning I wake up and you're at work, I assume. I feel a hanger pressed under my thigh. I smile as I take it away and bring it up to scratch my back with. Then I chuck it across the room in the pile of clothes you went through before picking whatever you wore. I'll just have to see this evening. I go to sit up and immediately fall back to the mattress. My stomach aching all the same as it was hours ago.

I groan, holding myself. I raise the sheets and look for a plushie, any plushie. Something I can hug for comfort. I can't just white knuckle my way through it this time. I’ve gotten some serious virus or something. I don't Google it though. I don't wanna be convinced I'm dying before I really am.

Finally I see one on the floor. Ugh. I reach down painfully and pick them up, holding them to my chest and gasping as I feel a little of last night's dinner digest. It hurts a lot, but all of a sudden, the pain fades.

Probably a bone. I suddenly thought. They could hurt like this.

I sigh thankfully. My guts are still sore from (probably) being scraped around by a finger or something, but whatever it was hit my stomach acid and like magic, it was defeated. I lay still, hurting. Until my bladder said he needed attention. Now!

I sat up and tasted blood in my usual acid reflux. Yep definitely a bone.

I waddle to the toilet, flip up the lid and piss a big ol piss. I close the lid and flush, washing my hands with the bath and body soap you bought for this month's “holiday.” I've told you a million times. “They're smoking crack and taking your money.” but truth be told… It does smell good. I like the little kitty cat sanitizer you put on my keychain. It smells like eucalyptus.. and sometimes it helps me not be so stressed. When I see it, I think of you.

After I wash my hands I go to get a fancy bottle of water from the fridge door. Fiji? Feejee? Feje? Fi-jeez. I got a Fij-headache. I guzzle some of it and plop down on the couch grabbing the remote on the table. Suddenly I hear;

Yeah yeah!

Don't wanna wait till you know me better!!

I let out a frightened yelp. Where the hell is that coming from?!

Let's just be glad for our time together!!

I look down at the remote in my hand. Not the TV remote. Yamaha? What's that??

Life's such a treat and it's time you taste it!!

I agree, Paul Stanley and Gene Simmons, but why are you in my house?! I turn around and around looking for a speaker or anything.

There ain't a reason on earth to waste it!

It aint a crime to be good to yourself!

Oh, investigations can wait, I can't help but sing;

"Lick it up!! Lick it up!! U-U-UP!"

"Lick it up!! Lick it up!! U-U-UP! Oo yeah!"

As the chorus plays out I burst into the bedroom and grab all my Webkinz, I grab your hair brush. Setting them down on the couch and rushing back to “the stage” just in time to catch the next verse.

Don't need to wait for an invitation!!

"Da nuh nuhh. Da nuh nuhh."

You gotta live like you're on vacation!!

"Da nuh nuhh. Da nuh nuhh."

There's something sweet you can't buy with money!!

"Lick it up, woo, lick it up!"

It's all you need, so believe me, honey!! It ain't a crime to be good to yourself!!

Then as I'm getting ready to start the chorus, the music stops. I let out a loud groan, only now remembering that I didn't put it on. I finally see the little box sitting on the table under the TV. I walk over to it and see a hoodie and a note.

“Here's to my little cowboy. I love you, I hope you feel better. I'm out getting your other gifts, so jam out.”

And your name written right at the bottom. In your unique little scribbling.

I just die a little inside. And get hard.. but that's not the point

Yamaha is printed on what looks like a record player, sitting right where you wanted it. A hoodie with the Lick it up album photo on it. I look at the tag and see it's my size. I immediately throw it in the wash with a couple other things so I can wear it as soon as possible.

What else could top this.. I wonder. About this time you walk in the door.

“Lee! I'm home!”

I rush out from the laundry room and wrap you in a big hug. “Mhh! I love it!!”

“Aw, I was hoping I could see your fac-”

“Wait, why are you home? It's like 2pm, you don't get off till 5pm at least.”

“Well, I got off early after I saw some stuff on Facebook marketplace. I wanted to get it for you and the seller wasn't available after 2pm.”

You hand me three Walmart bags. Eatch one is filled to the brim with Webkinz plushies. Each one is one I don't have. They all have their codes and they are in perfect condition. As I'm sitting there in shock taking them all out of the bags, you hand me what looks like a picture frame of the Lick It Up album cover.

“Oh my God!! Wow, thanks, you didn't have to."

"I know but I wanted to."

"I could have just hung the record sleeve. I mean you got me all these Webkinz!!”

“Oh no, this is not an album sleeve. Look closer.” You say in a teasing way as you point to something in black ink.

Signatures.

Paul Stanley. Gene Simmons. Eric Carr. Vinnie Vincent.

“I got it for like a hundred bucks. I had to go pick it up. That's why I was gone.”

At this moment, I don't know why, but my body decided it was a good idea to scream at the top of my lungs like a little fangirl. And cry. Yes. Cry.

“Aw! Baby!” You coo at me as I sob happily, my knees buckling under me.

“T-t-tank you!!” I stutter like a child. All soaked with tears, hugging all my plushies and the frame. My heart is racing and I can barely breathe.

“You're welcome, cowboy.” You chuckle. “Feeling better?”

“M-m-mhm!!” I hum as I pepper a dozen kisses all over your face.

You giggle and kiss me deeply on the lips. “I'm glad. Now go put it on. Your fans are waiting.” You say as you wave your hand towards the Webkinz.

Immediately I ran over to the player and put the song back on seeing that it had skipped. That's why it stopped playing earlier. I put all the new Webkinz on the couch with the others and grab your hair brush ready to jump and dance around, belting my heart out until I've lost my voice. Then you join so I wouldn't sound quite so bad “on stage.”

After this, we may need a new bed.. ;)

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