#flat clapton

[stop-talking]

Wait imagine listening to music with clapton while in detention.. like sharing earbuds with him while yall sit in silence🫢 and then a cringe song comes on at the wrong time LMAO

BLESS YOU anon this is so cute

Saturday School

Clapton Davis x gender-neutral reader

Word count: 2k

Tags: fluff, a little cringe, romantic tension, older Clapton & younger reader

------------------------------------------------

You'd managed to get through nearly 12 years of schooling without getting sentenced to detention.

Unfortunately, today resets your streak. Only a measly two weeks at this shitty school and you've already gotten yourself into trouble. Just your luck, huh?

God damnit. Surely, this is going to be absolute hell. I mean, it isn't even a regular after-school detention, but Saturday school.

As you take a seat in the meticulously-arranged circle of desks in the library, you spare a glance at the other students. You vaguely recognize some of them... the goth chick looks familiar, at least.

They all seem disinterested, so you copy their aloof attitudes and lean back in your chair. Yeah... that seems right. Just do what everyone else does, and maybe you'll survive this.

Suddenly, the door bursts open and slams against the wall. You turn to look, and see the principal himself storm through, dragging a boy in by the ear.

Oh great. Finally, someone you recognize, and it's motherfucking Clapton Davis.

"It's not fair! I don't even HAVE Saturday school!" He whines, wincing as he's roughly shoved towards an empty desk. The desk right next to you. Wonderful.

"Should have thought about that before coming to school on a Saturday." The older man growls, giving him what he probably thinks is an intimidating look. Honestly, he just looks silly.

Clapton groans, slinking back in the desk and letting out an exaggerated huff that blows his bangs around.

God, can't that guy just be normal? You only just transferred here and already you know almost everything about him. Not by choice... obviously. He's just somehow the center of attention wherever he goes. Even in goddamn Saturday school.

"And as for the rest of you..." The principal continues his rant, glaring at the small circle of students. No, prisoners.

"Just remember. I have eyes and ears everywhere. EVERYWHERE."

With one final less-than-intimidating-glare, the man stomps out, closing the door behind him. Is that it? He's just going to leave you here in a roomful of delinquents with nothing but a vague threat to keep you all in check?

You glance around at the other students, but no one says anything. Hm. Maybe that's normal. You have no idea, so you just lay your head down on your desk, determined to get through this mess as simply as possible.

Turns out, that sentiment might prove to be more challenging than you thought. You hear a quiet "thud", and shift slightly, peeking an eye to your left to see what the noise was. Are you crazy, or does Clapton look... closer?

Nope. Not crazy. With another soft thud, he scoots his desk over again, inching it closer to yours.

"Pssst." He whispers, extending a leg out to nudge your foot. He's less than a yard from you at this point. Though you can't see the other students with your head buried in your arms, you're sure they've noticed. Damnit. Why did this jackass have to draw attention to you?

"What do you want?" You grumble, shifting on the desk so he can see your face, but still trying to stay hidden from the other students.

"I haven't seen you around before. You new?" He gives you a sheepish grin, eyes flickering with mischief as he takes you in.

"Yeah." You respond dismissively, giving him a flat stare. Please just pick on someone else, Clapton Davis.

"Cool, cool..." He crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling.

You watch as he restlessly taps his feet and tries to balance on two legs of his chair. He's so high-strung. Like a chihuahua. Small like one too. Hah. The thought makes you smile, which he unfortunately notices and takes as a sign of interest. Damnit.

"So... what are you in for?" He asks, treating the exchange like you're two inmates. Honestly, it's a fair comparison.

"I, uh... Accidentally lit my teacher on fire."

With a crash, Clapton tips back in his chair completely, hitting the floor. Hard.

"You WHAT?"

The sudden noise makes you jolt upright, and you can feel a blush creeping up your neck as the other students turn to stare.

"Accidentally!" You protest weakly, hanging your head in shame as Clapton scrambles to his feet.

"How the fuck do you 'accidentally' set someone on fire?" A dark-haired boy across from you scoffs, and a few other people voice similar questions.

"Okay so... Mr Jones's sleeve caught fire while giving me a demonstration with the bunsen burner..." You start, taking a deep breath and staring down at your desk to calm your nerves.

"I panicked and doused it with a vial of the closest liquid... apparently an extremely flammable liquid..."

"Is THAT why he went home early Friday?" A blonde girl asks, letting out a shrill laugh, like that of a hyena.

"Woah. Sick." The goth-looking girl just nods in approval before lying her head back down on the desk.

Before you can give any kind of response, you feel your desk jostle as Clapton's slams into it. Apparently he'd taken the initiative to get a little closer while everyone was distracted by your story.

"So, Grizzly Lake High has a new pyromaniac, huh?" He teases, propping his elbow up on the desk and resting his chin on his fist as he grins stupidly at you.

"New?" You scoff. "You mean you had an old one?"

"Hey, there's a lot of weirdoes here." He shrugs.

"Yeah... I can tell."

He pouts and tries to feign offence as you pointedly look him up and down. God, what a stupid fucking face.

"You're not in any of my classes, are you, newbie?"

"No. I'm a Junior."

"Ah. Well, maybe we'll have some together next year."

"Next year? Aren't you a Senior?"

"Yeah, but with the way my grades are looking..." He grimaces, shaking his head sadly.

"...you might be a Senior again next year?" You finish for him.

"Yeah."

"Bummer."

An awkward silence settles between the two of you, and Clapton starts to squirm, looking as if he wants to say something else.

"How'd you end up here? In Saturday school, I mean." You ask, if only to cut the tension. Not because you actually care.

"Oh." His face falls, clearly annoyed just thinking about it.

"Principal Verge confiscated my skateboard Friday... I was supposed to get it back at the end of the day, but I ended up getting detention... By the time I was done, he'd already left and locked It up in his office."

"Sooo... you came to steal it back?"

"Not steal! There's sometimes a few teachers here on weekends... I was just gonna ask one of them..." He mumbles, hanging his head.

"But stupid Verge caught me 'sneaking around' and threw me in Saturday school."

"Oh, so he just has it out for you, huh?" You tease.

"Exactly!" He hisses back, eyes wide with excitement.

"People just don't understand. I'm not a troublemaker... just unlucky."

Unlucky? He seems pretty damn lucky to you. Everyone likes Clapton Davis. Everyone but you, it seems.

"Pfft. Maybe you could try being quiet and sitting still for once." You muse, trying to hold back a smirk. He might be onto something though, honestly. He's a total trouble magnet... which is why you should probably just put your head back down and ignore him.

"Hey!" He pouts, feigning hurt as he reaches into his pocket.

"And to think, I was gonna offer to share..."

This piques your interest, and you lean closer to him, trying to get a glimpse of the object he's fiddling with under his desk. An iPhone. Great.

"Won't that just get you in more trouble?"

He rolls his eyes in return. "Look around. I'm not the only one."

Sure enough, when you look more closely at some of the other students... yep, at least half of them are on their phones. The way they slump over the desks sort-of hides it, but once you knew what to look for... damn. He's right.

"Why? What's even the point of Saturday school, then?" You're completely baffled by this revelation, shaking your head.

"What's the point of school at all?" He counters, shrugging and popping an earbud into his ear. His wired headphones are extremely tangled, but he offers you the other earbud anyways.

"So, wanna share?"

Damnit. You really shouldn't. But you hadn't brought your own phone, and fuck, that grin of his...

"Fine. What do you have on there?" You sigh and accept the earbud, scooting closer to him so it'll actually reach your ear. There's not much slack with how tangled they are, so the two of you are nearly cheek to cheek as you hunch in your seats and peer down at his phone.

"Here, I'll turn on my playlist."

He fiddles with the little phone, and you can feel his breath mixing with yours as he speaks. Eventually he gets some music playing, but you can hardly hear it over the beating of your own heart.

"What do you think? You like 90s stuff?" Clapton smiles warmly, turning to face you.

His smile is contagious, and you can't help but let your gaze flicker down to his lips... just for a moment. He's so close, his mouth just inches from your own.

"Uh, yeah. I-I mean, who doesn't?" You mumble lamely, feeling a familiar heat creep up your neck and tinge your cheeks. Fuck. He's not that cute, get yourself together!!

"I know, right?" Apparently that's the right answer, because he turns his attention back to the phone, scrolling through his playlist and pointing out his favorite songs.

His music taste isn't bad, actually. You find yourself nodding at his choices, and soon you begin to forget where you are. The other students fade into the background, and Saturday school starts to feel a little less grim.

That is, until the song changes and the vibe is completely thrown off. What the hell is this? Your brow furrows and you try to make out the nonsense lyrics.

Cat? I'm a kitty cat. And I dance dance dance And I dance dance dance Cat? I'm a kitty cat. And I dance dance dance And I dance dance dance

The lyrics repeat over and over, and Clapton nearly drops his phone in his scramble to change the song. In his rush, he gets his password wrong over and over, making it impossible to fix.

"Clapton, why the hell is this on your playlist?" You ask, putting a hand to your mouth in a failing attempt to stifle a giggle.

"I-it's catchy, alright??" He mumbles, still trying to change the song. He gets his password wrong for, like, the tenth time, and it locks him out of his phone for thirty seconds, leaving you both stuck with the nonsensical cat lyrics ringing in your ears.

You try to keep your composure, but when the man singing the song starts meowing, you completely lose it and throw yourself onto your desk in a fit of laughter.

Unfortunately for Clapton, you accidentally tug the headphone cord with you, unplugging it from his phone. As you bury your head in your arms and laugh uncontrollably, the silly cat song starts blasting out loud for the whole room to hear.

And he can't even do anything about it, because he's still locked out of his phone for the next 20 seconds.

"S-sorry!" He shouts, trying to cram his phone into his backpack to shut it up.

You can feel all eyes on the two of you, but this whole situation is so utterly ridiculous, you don't even mind the attention. A few other kids snicker, and you can't help but feel a little bad for him.

Your remorse fades as soon as the principal throws the door open, immediately turning his attention to you and Clapton.

"Both of you!" He roars, pointing an accusing finger. "Detention on Monday! And Tuesday!"

Damnit. You knew this boy was trouble, and yet...? As the cat song finally stops, you meet Clapton's gaze, a sheepish smile plastered across his face.

Maybe spending a little more time with him wouldn't be so bad.

------------------------------------------------

Author's Note: Sorry if it wasn't fluffy enough...? I mean, the reader kind of hates him at first, and they don't even kiss... But the request was really funny, and I love putting Jhutch characters in awkward situations <3

Maybe I'll write a sequel? Probably not, though. Sorry it took so long to write, also. I wrote half of it and then let it sit in my drafts for weeks before writing the other half.

Hope y'all enjoyed, feel free to send in more requests!! I'll get to them eventually, even if it takes weeks. <3

[biblio-smia]

Hey can we get one where Clapton has a crush on you and does anything and everything to be close to you????

oh how i love loser men

clapton cuts through the cafeteria, throwing himself into the seat opposite sander sanderson. "dude, switch with me."

"what?" sander is caught off-guard and still mid-chew.

"physics, dude! come on, you have to switch with me!"

sander stares, eyes rolling practically to the back of his head as he catches up to what clapton is talking about. "as if you have the balls to make a move."

it's clapton's turn to roll his eyes. "you'll get to sit with riley for the rest of the semester!"

sander takes a long time to consider this; agonizingly long, at least for clapton. finally, after sander has finished another bite of his disgusting tuna salad sandwich, he sighs.

"fine. but don't think you don't owe me, davis."

the next day, clapton slides smoothly into his new, fought-for seat next to you.

you do a small double-take, sure the boy sitting next to you today isn't the same one from last time - though you two didn't talk much (save for a brief introduction and an awkward handshake). it was easier to believe your mind was playing tricks on you.

"sander has a thing for riley. so i let him switch with me." the boy, definitely new, tells you with a nonchalant shrug. there's vague recognition on your face as you look at him, eyebrows pulled slightly together - you remember he had a funny name.

"clapton davis," he fills in for you. "your new physics partner."

he doesn't hold out a stiff hand like sander did, but he manages to pull a smile and a little introduction out of you. the bell rings and mr. kendall is prompt, jumping into today's lesson so quickly you rush to pull out your notebook.

clapton smiles to himself, table in front of him empty, not a pencil in sight for him. he's too busy stealing glances at you to do any note-taking.

it only takes a few days before clapton decides it's time to make a game plan. the charm he usually prides himself disappears around you, his mind always going blank. he has to think about his words carefully before he says them, three times each.

that won't do. he reminds himself of what he's always done. keep calm and have a casual conversation.

"no way, i have that exact same pen!" clapton exclaims one day before class.

you look down in front of you, recalling what pen you had brought to class that day - it's a bic pen, the most generic one out there. this pulls a laugh out of you, as stupid as it is.

"you know, clapton, in the two weeks we've been sitting next to each other, i've never once seen you take out a pen."

"you've been keeping track?" clapton says with an easy smile, his heart stammering wildly in his chest. he's closed the distance, arm on the table supporting his head as he stares, attention dedicated solely to you.

you roll your eyes but there's a smile on your face. "you can always look over them, if you want," you offer, directing clapton's attention to the open notebook in front of you. "not to brag, but i'm a pretty good note-taker."

"i'd like that," clapton admits, surprising himself with how much he means it.

"okay," you nod, trying not to grin.

"would you wanna have lunch in the library with me?" clapton asks, eager to set a time and date to... look over your notes?

"sure," you manage to say just before the bell rings.

clapton doesn't get another opportunity to talk to you for the entire class period; it's quiz day.

he finishes his quiz in seven minutes flat, bubbling in C for all the questions before putting his head down. the quiet cocoon clapton has built with his arms at least gives him at least another 45 minutes or so to sit and reflect.

a part of clapton is pissed with himself for asking you to study with him out of all things. usually, the courage to ask someone on a date would never suddenly flee him like it does with you and it's beginning to throw clapton in for a loop. though, on the other hand, at least he made it work with the opportunity that had presented itself... right?

and now, of all things, clapton is beginning to feel insecure about the grades he hasn't kept up with since about middle school. he wonders if you'd paid attention to how quickly he turned in that quiz. did you only offer to help him because you thought he was stupid?

clapton's beginning to lose his head (and run out of air), so he picks his head up and places it on top of his arms instead. he glances at you, just now going to turn in your quiz, and he sighs.

in an hour and a half, the two of you will meet for lunch and clapton would look over your notes. he can already see himself faltering; there's no way he'll be able to impress you in this situation.

as you turn to head back to your seat, clapton averts his eyes. he's set himself up for complete failure.

and, as a part of him wonders why exactly he cares, clapton drops his head again as he realizes.

he totally has a big fat crush on you.

masterlist

[lexxspark]

Greened Out

Clapton Davis x reader

Overall gn!reader gender isn’t really specified here :3 lmk if I missed anything though!

A/N : hey guys thanks for reading! First fic since the damn renaissance (2015) this is also heavily inspired by Tednivisions story time about when he ate a 400 milligrams nerds rope💀

‼️mentions of the use of pot and smoking

Not proofread🙌🏻 wrote this this morning I think a ghost whispered this concept in my ear while I was sleeping.

A good night’s sleep. You’d think that’d be easier when you’re home alone but associating with Clapton Davis? Yeah idk about that. You were in the middle of drifting to sleep, wearing just some shorts and a band T-shirt you haphazardly grabbed last minute as something to sleep in, when you hear knocking at your window.

Normally this would be reason for panic, but when you look over to see a boy in a bright blue t-shirt, sunglasses dispute it being 11pm, you only sighed and walked over to the window to open it.

“Clapton what the fuck are you doing?”

“Listen, listen y/n okay? I’m-“ He paused and kindof stumbled a bit literally and over his words, but began again, “I need help ion- I don’t feel right.”

Then he gave you those eyes. Those stupid pleading puppy eyes.

You opened the window more to allow him to climb into your room. He did but almost fell flat on his face after his foot god caught in the window pane. He stumbled but fixed himself, standing straight and looking at you.

“What did you take Davis?” There was concern in your voice as you knew Clapton well and he didn’t do anything hard ever, nothing other than the occasional pot with his friends.

“Y/n im telling you all I took was an edible I don’t know what’s going on I’m like- I’m like aching every-time I touch something I can still feel it after and, and it feels like the room is spinning. It just I don’t feel right I think I was laced im telling you.” He said that last sentence while weakly pointing at the window, presumably at his friends.

“How many milligrams was it?” You asked, a very slight chuckle in your voice as you highly doubt someone had the brains to make a laced edible in the entire city of Grizzly Lake.

“Milligrams? Uhh what are those?” He furrowed his brows and squeezed his eyes shut making it look like he was really trying to remember what milligrams are.

“Oh my god.” You said under your breath as you walked over to Clapton and checked his pockets for the wrapper to his edible and to your surprise, you found a nerds rope wrapper crumpled up in his left shorts pocket.

“Wooah y/n” Clapton chuckled between his words, “Take me out before you get so handsy like that huh?” He gave you that big smile that may have made you blush, but your room was too dark to notice so you rolled your eyes instead.

“Relax Clapton, go sit down before you collapse on my floor okay?” You pointed to your bed as you started examining the wrapper.

“Yes ma’am.” Clapton said pouting and shuffling to your bed and plopping down at the foot of it, across from where you were standing.

That made you smile, the pout in his voice and the ma’am, he was such a sweetheart. However you and Clapton were on borderline opposite social circles. You only had a couple close friends where as Clapton was friends with practically everyone in town. Of course except for law enforcement. You liked him, of course you did. But everyone liked him and you just kind of figured that one of these days he’d meet someone cute and bubbly just as he is and forget about you. You were, however in your stubborn sarcasm, completely oblivious to Clapton’s shared fear. He thought that someday you would find some mature, older, more smart man to take care of you and forget all about him. So in return he followed you like a puppy everywhere, ensuring that you never would.

“Oh my fucking god Clapton.” Your eyes widened at the package.

“What? What’s wrong? Is it coke? Uh uhh what’s the one called? Oh my god Is it a Perc?” He was genuinely scared that he just took a Percocet nerds rope.

“No it’s still just weed but it’s 400 milligrams of it. Jesus Christ, Clapton it says ‘meant to be shared’ right on the package.” You pointed at it and handed it to him to read, all he did was squint you knew he didn’t even try to read anything on the package.

“Wow 400? That’s a lot. That’s prolly not a good thing is it?” He shook his head as he looked up at you, your brows furrowed with concern as u looked down at him.

“No, no it’s not.” Your eyes softened and shoulders dropped as you remembered he was still incredibly high and you were his only sober friend right now. “Have you eaten? Had water?”

“I ate an entire bag of family sized Cheeto Puffs, andd I also had a coke.” He smiled.

You tried your best to ignore his smile, “Okay well you need water, you definitely need water.” You walked over to your nightstand, Clapton’s eyes following your every move. You handed him the glass of water and he took a sip, realized how much he needed water, and proceeded to drink the entire thing.

“Jeez y/n do you have the air on blast in here? It’s like 40 degrees dude.”

“No, no you’re just cold, weed chills Clapton. Here.” You put the blanket around his shoulders and you saw him relax a bit into the blanket, still shivering though. This didn’t last however when he crawled up to where you were peacefully sleeping earlier and curled up into your pillows.

“Really?” You walked over to him and sat on the edge of the bed next to him, looking at him at first with annoyance, but then it caved as soon as you saw how cute he looked in your bed, looking up at you. You sighed in defeat, looking at the calendar on your door, and then back at Clapton. Your parents were away for the weekend, some thanksgiving thing with friends so you had the entire house to yourself for a while.

Clapton’s eyes never left yours and in your head you swore they would be your downfall. “Alright, Alright fine. You can take my bed I’ll just crash on the couch.” You smiled at him, breaking eye contact as you grabbed a spare pillow and started to turn to walk out of your room.

This made Clapton’s stomach drop. “No, nono, please.” He grabbed on your wrist, softly in a pleading hold, like if he let go he’d vanish into dust. “Please stay with me. I really don’t want to be alone like this.” There was genuine concern in his voice almost anxiety.

He gave you those stupid eyes again.

Before you could even realize what was going on you got into bed with him and laid down, Clapton Davis laying in your bed agonizingly close to you. However you could still feel him shivering. He studied your face, his expression never changing as he looked at your eyes. God he loved your eyes.

You looked back at him and gave him a soft look, looked up at the ceiling, and opened your arm so he could lay on your chest. He didn’t waste a second curling up to you. You felt your heart race and Clapton’s shivering subside. Part of you wondered if he was even still shivering or if he was faking it to get you to hold him, you didn’t really care either way.

Your hand found its way to Clapton’s hair, playing with it in a soothing way to get him to sleep off the edible for two he just took. Chances are he’ll wake up high in the morning. But that was a problem for tomorrow.

“Holyy fuck.” Clapton melted into your arms as u played with his hair almost whining at the contact.

“You okay Davis?”

“Yes, yes m fine just that feels really fucking good Jesus Christ don’t stop.” He whispered and mumbled at the same time, you felt his hands rub on your back and bunch up your shirt as someone to grab and hold on to.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” You smiled as you felt him calm, soon the shivering stopped. You and him lay in comfortable silence for a few moments until Clapton breaks it.

“Have I told you how beautiful I think you are?”

This caught you by surprise, all you could get out were a few “umms” before he started again, “You really are you know? You’re so smart and you’re funny. You deal with me and my stupid jokes. You’re just, you’re just you. And I really love that.”

He pulled away to look at you, meeting your eyes. You had no idea what to say to that. Even with him in your bed, you never thought that anything like that would come out of his mouth ever.

You paused, trying to come up with something to say, usually you’d have something smart or snarky to say but your entire mind blanked. All you could think about was him.

Even the 400mgs of marijuana in Clapton’s body couldn’t stop him from being cocky.

“Are you gonna let me kiss you orr?” He smiled again and you rolled your eyes opening your mouth to say something but he placed his hand on your cheek and kissed you before you could say anything else. You both sank into the kiss as it melted away years of anxiety that both of you had built up over each other.

As you pulled away his arms held you closer and he sank back into the crook of your neck leaving little peppered kissed on your collarbone.

“You don’t know how long I was waiting for you to do that.” You finally said, smiling while returning your hand back to his hair.

“You don’t know how long I was waiting for you to do that.” He laughed and you rolled your eyes again but smiled, kissing his hair. “Can I, can I be your boyfriend? You don’t know how much I care about you and I just- I want to be here for you always. Take care of you like you always do for me.” He mumbled that last sentence, thinking about tonight when you didn’t even hesitate to open your door, or window, and take care of him when he needed you. When you stayed without hesitation when he pleaded with you not to go. He wanted to treat you and show you how much he cared.

You wanted to say yes but you remembered he was high. A sudden fear flashed over you that he would wake up in the morning and not remember anything from tonight. You faltered when you said, “Clapton you’re high, are you sure you really mean that?” Fear of this all being an elaborate prank came across you, no way this was real.

It was like he could read your mind, that’s kind of how it’s always been. “I’m serious y/n. High words are sober thoughts right? If I wasn’t high I would never have the courage to ask you, or even tell you anything I just did. I’ve always thought you were beautiful.”

You sighed in relief, holding him closer.

“Let me be here for you like you are for me?” He pulled away so he could look you in the eyes, have gave you that pleading look again. “Please?”

You nodded and said, “Okay Clapton.” In such a whisper you weren’t sure he heard you, either way he kissed you again, this time you holding his face and running your hand through his hair. He loved it. He loved you. And you truthfully loved him. But you both on your own decided that a kiss was enough for the night and you were going to save the I love you’s for when Clapton’s sober.

He fell back into the crook for your neck and soon the both of you fell asleep like that. Finally getting a good nights sleep with each other in your arms.

A/N: congrats on reading my first tumblr posted fic!! might write a smut alt ended to this if it does good who knowwws:3

[jealousjersey]

Is there any unfinished fics or ideas you want to write?? You’re so creative w your writing I just wanna see upcoming (or never to be seen again) fics!!

i’m sooooo into the idea of doing more mike, futturman, and clapton stuff!! here’s a draft from one of the mike things i wrote

coming home late from work - mike schmidt smut oneshot

you have another late night working, trying to contribute to the house as you know mike is low on funds and needs all the help he can get, but you also know he hates that you work. it makes him feel like he’s failing to care for you. and when you work late it gets even worse because he can’t help his jealous going out of control. he knows he trusts you. he knows you love him and he loves you too. but when he hears your car pull in and your headlights cut off, the door unlocking unleashes something in him. something primal. something sexy.

you walk in the house, mikes face illuminated by a dim lamp. he’s stressed, that much you know. but you didn’t know the extent.

mike rushes to you, taking your jacket off of you and hanging it up for you and putting your bag down. he lifts you up in his arms and before you can say another word, carries you to the bedroom with him.

“excited?” you say playfully

“you have no idea.” he responds

he lays you flat on the bed and gently pulls your pants off, feeling you already wet makes him moan into the skin of your stomach

“soaked for me already?” he speaks

“what can i say? i love when you look rugged.” you smirk

he smiles against your skin and slips your panties off, sticking his middle and ring finger into you. you groan as you feel his fingers curl into you, and he moans at the wetness that surrounds his calloused fingers. he pumps his fingers into you and watches your face and body fall apart at his hand. seeing you so vulnerable, so intimately, so close….

he pulls his fingers out of you and you let out a whine

“shhh, i’m not done with you yet” he whispers and hangs his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and pulls them down, his boxers tented and a small wet spot forms at the point.

he rips his boxers off and his dick springs out. hot, red, and dripping at the tip.

he lines up and pushes into you with a hard thrust, a shaky moan escaping you as he fills you

he paces himself, ramming in and out of you while hitting your spot beautifully each time, causing a symphony of moans and whimpers leaving your plush lips. he captures yours and his hands catch your hips, feeling them stutter and shake under him. his mouth catches your moans and his tongue swirls around, tasting you like he’s a starving man. as his moans get louder and the thrusting grows sloppy you can hear him groan your name softly.

he’s determined to make you cum first, taking his thumb and rubbing your swollen clit as he struggles to keep his pace steady

“oh…oh god” you stutter as the overstimulation hits you, gripping onto the bedsheets under you. “i’m close…im close” you moan over and over until the release hits you, squirting all over his dick. it creates a new lube for mike to use to cum in you with ease. his hips stutter and he releases, his warm sticky cum filling you up. he pulls out slowly, cum still spurring from his tip and making it on your tits and neck. such a beautiful act in front of him, just you covered in him.

“i needed that” he smiles and buries his head into your neck.

[alainamama17]

100 Days of Music - Music Challenge

Day 97 (11/25/23)

Good afternoon. I bet you can kind of guess what Eddie Van Halen has to do with our theme today.

Share a song or songs that you love that have awesome (in your opinion) guitar solos. It doesn't have to be a rock song, just one with a great guitar solo.

Like a Rock - Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band (I absolutely love the slide guitar solo of this song

Feels So Good - Chuck Mangione

Hotel California - Eagles

Just Let Me Be in Love - Tracy Byrd

Tears In Heaven - Eric Clapton

Some of mine are very well known guitar solos, and others are just personal to me that I like. What about you?

@worldleaderpretend1969, @biggreenhouse, @lusnicky, @delightedobserverintraining, @prbworld21, @cheeky-down-under, @flat-in-life, @secondlifep, @interestedin-life, @a-lil-jaded-1, @musiclandoux, @bohicabill, @onlya5butfunny, @aravenlunatic

[vampireclub7]

Can you please share your experience into stanning Enhypen? You seem to hold them in high regard. The only group you stan is BTS so that tells me you have high standards or at least similar taste to me, but Enhypen doesn't have rappers which you said yourself. So what makes you like them better than other 4th gen groups that do have rappers? What was your descent into the rabbit hole like if you don't mind me asking.

***

This ask is going to take too long to answer properly, so I'll try to give the abridged version here.

I fell in love with Enhypen the minute I heard their debut song: Given-Taken. The very first thing you hear is a harp and it's so pretty.

I liked them right then, they made an impression, a real one. It reminded me of how I felt watching BTS perform their debut stage 10 years ago. It reminded me of that feeling, but in a different hue. I kept up with Enhypen since then and have progressively liked them more.

But the moment I realized I liked them a whole lot, was after watching this video:

It was here I learned Jungwon's favourite album right now is the OST for Disney's Aladdin. It's here I learned Jay loves to play Layla by Eric Clapton on his guitar, Layla is one of my favourite songs of all time. It's here I learned Sunghoon's role model is BTS. Naturally, all three guys became my bias.

The next moment I recall that stuck with me, was revisiting Drunk Dazed randomly last year. When I first heard Drunk-Dazed I didn't really care for the song. Enhypen does 'noise music' well, but it's still noise music and I wasn't in the mood for it at that point in my life. I knew the song was good, but set it aside when I first heard it. But time passed, and sometime last year I decided to listen to it on a whim. I wanted to hear it again, see it with choreography, so I played the Studio Choom and by the end of it I was spamming my GC, sending that video to all my friends afterwards.

The entire video is insane.

Enhypen are the best performers. Period. I sometimes see k-pop stans comment on whether they sing live and inevitably turn it into discourse, but as usual that discourse is rubbish. They sing live but with heavy backtrack because their choreographies are literally insane. That's not an exaggeration. There is no group active today that does as much floor work as Enhypen. Think about it. If you ever watch an Enhypen performance, count how many times they're on the floor: lying down flat, sitting, crouching to the floor, bending, kneeling - count how many times they're on the floor in a position where it's physically near impossible to sing. And then remember this is their regular choreo for their songs, a choreo they'll have to perform every time, and then remember that Enhypen is known for their dance breaks. That is, dance routines that are incremental to everything they've just done.

It's mental.

They make the best music, are ridiculously talented, have the best visuals, and have got the best vibes for days. It wasn't a conscious decision on my part to like them, I just saw what I saw, heard what I heard, and my brain did the next logical thing which was to start supporting them.

Like I said, I'm active in the Engene fandom so that means there's overlap on my twitter with my ARMY moots. At first, a few of them were ticked off to see me retweet Enhypen tweets. When they told me it bothered them that I was supporting Enhypen while stanning BTS, I sent them a video of Enhypen one year after debut. I sent them this video.

They shut up.

One of the three people who initially had a problem with me now ults Enhypen. Lool. Even I'm not at that point yet.

Anyway, the music is what seals the deal for me. They just make objectively better music by my tastes, which already sets them above the pack. They have a handful of songs with rap verses (eg Blockbuster OT7 version) which they do remarkably well so I hope we get more rap/chant verses in future songs. But even without the rap their music is god-tier. Then you remember they have the best dance-line in 4th gen. And they are adorable dorks on top of it...

It's easy to love them. They don't have it easier than other HYBE groups when it comes to the unwarranted hate unfortunately, and that's why even though I don't technically stan them, or at least ult them, I still support them whenever I feel like it and have the means.

Enhypen is a solid group and I wish only more health and success for them.

[borrowedtimeandspace]

The Title Drops

14. Instrument

From this list of gt prompts.

AU: Time After Time (Twelve AU)

Note: This was bound to happen... So have a late double-entry for it!

~~~

"You play, now?" Zepheera wondered aloud, curiously regarding the electric guitar the Doctor kept on a stand next to a boxy amplifier. She stood on a nearby side table to peer over the edge at its sleek black body and the long stringed neck that stretched well above her four-and-a-half inches.

"Now, why do you say that all surprised?" The Doctor pressed in a tone that sounded more offended than he appeared. Part of him was still riding on the high of the reunion of himself and his old friend. "I'm a time traveler! You think I would never have gotten around to spending some time with Rosetta Tharpe, Eric Clapton, Lita Ford, and KT Tunstall all in the same room–?"

Through barely repressed chuckles, Zepheera tossed up her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, fair point." 

She wondered if all that time apart had made her build up some image of the Doctor in her head that made her feel that this was such an odd thing. It wasn't a secret that he'd met some of history's defining figures, and was bound to pick up a thing or two from the musicians. It just felt like…such a human thing to do.

Suddenly it seemed very much up the Doctor's alley.

"Play me something." Zepheera sat herself down on the edge of a book that stuck out of the bottom of a stack, eagerly waiting for him to go along with her request.

At first, the Doctor seemed happy to do so. He reached down toward his instrument, but his hand paused before it could grab hold of the neck. A thoughtful half smile tugged at his lip as he straightened and reached into the pocket of his jacket.

"Tell ya what," he said, glancing mischievously at Zepheera. "I'll play, if you…sing."

Zepheera's hopeful grin dropped away immediately. "O-oh, ah. I mean. Well, what'd be the point in that? You wouldn't even hear me over–,"

"I've got plenty of acoustic settings here," the Doctor interrupted, whipping out his sonic screwdriver. He even gave it a toss for emphasis. "A simple boost should amplify your voice to be just as loud as mine."

A bright pink flush bloomed across Zepheera's cheekbones. "I… it's been so long, I don't…"

"Oh, well alright, then. If you're too chicken to do it then we can just forget–,"

The exasperated "Ha!" that burst from Zepheera surprised even herself, but it couldn't be helped. The Doctor barely refrained from grinning right there. Gotcha.

"The absolute cheek on– alright, old man, you're on!" Zepheera pushed back up to her feet with a grin of her own, energized by the challenge.

After a brief warble from the sonic, the Doctor set it down to lean against the stack of books behind Zepheera. The way he pointed at the very tip indicated to the borrower that she'd have to sing near there, like a microphone. Bemused, she began climbing as the Doctor took up his axe and tossed the strap over his head.

He contemplated briefly about what to play, but once the idea crossed his mind, he could think of nothing else.

"You remember the nineteen-eighties?" he inquired as he changed the settings on his amplifier, adjusting volume and balance and removing the distortion he usually kept on at all times for dramatic effect.

Zepheera shot him a flat but amused look as she pulled herself up to the top of the stack. "Well, I've lived through them four times, so… I should hope so."

The Doctor's brow waggled in acknowledgement, and he snagged a pick from a small pile on the amp. He let each string ring out to be sure it was in tune and that he was happy with the sound quality. Then he began to pluck out a quiet chord progression, his palm muting the strings for the moment. "Cyndi Lauper?"

Despite considering herself to be not overly attached to human culture, Zepheera found that she did recognize the song he'd apparently chosen for them both. She gave him a nod and waited her turn, the nerves welling up again now that righteous indignation had faded. The song was a worldwide hit, and she could bet it became an earworm for her more than once through her multiple runs through the '80s.

She just hoped it was enough to keep up.

"Lying in my bed, I hear the clock tick and think of you," she began, hesitation evident in her voice at first. It was lucky that the melody for this particular song wasn't complicated, and she could focus more on remembering the words. The Doctor's part was also simple for the moment, as he essentially played open chords until they changed.

Zepheera's memory was jogging fast, causing the words to come more easily without nearly as much thought as she expected. 

"Caught up in circles,

Confusion is nothing new."

"Sometimes you picture me," the Doctor cut in in the lower octave, startling Zepheera in the middle of her contemplation. "I'm walking too far ahead."

"Flashback, warm nights

Almost left behind

Suitcase of memories

Time after–"

Zepheera watched him, stunned into letting him take over the verse, whether that was his intention or not. She had just been wondering about the lyrics and coming to the realization that they felt quite true to her. Listening to the Doctor continue with the second verse made it clear that he, too, related to them.

He went on, undeterred:

"I fall behind," Zepheera joined in. The Doctor had spent his verse locking eyes with her, without a hint of expectation that she continue, but not shutting her out either. A sparkle emerged from his eye, and the Doctor couldn't contain a grin any longer. "The second hand unwinds," they sang in unison.

"You're calling to me

I can't hear what you've said

Then you say, 'go slow'..."

Gone were Zepheera's nerves as she remembered just how silly she was allowed to be with a friend like the Doctor. By the time the chorus hit, her voice resonated comfortably and projected nearly to the point where she didn't need the sonic to be heard. The Doctor continued right alongside her, happily taking the lower harmony as he watched his old friend shine.

"If you're lost, you can look

And you will find me

Time after time."

The more they sang and played, the more confident Zepheera felt. Not just in that moment, in her own voice, but in the new relationship she'd formed with the Doctor. It was almost like she'd never left, and yet they'd both changed so much. 

Though it might not have been either of their intentions at the start, the song began to feel less like a mutual gimmick and more like a promise. One they made to each other as they sang the choruses together.

"If you fall I will catch you,

I will be waiting

Time after time

Time after time…"

[fugengulsen]

Happy 75th birthday to Steve Winwood!

“You would probably think that rock music is an urban phenomena, but the main reason for doing it in ’68 was so that we could play music very loud any time of the day or night without getting complaints from the neighbours,” recalls Winwood, laughing at the memory.“People were complaining constantly when we were living in a flat in West London, so we moved out to this place which had no electricity and where we got water out of the well. I suppose the first Traffic album was what came out of living and working together at the cottage.“We worked very hard, and all we wanted to do was make music, but we had a great time doing it. A lot of musicians like Jimi Hendrix, Pete Townshend and Eric Clapton used to come down there all the time just to hang out. Although drugs were freely available, it wasn’t our mission to bring drugs to the world; we were there to bring music to the world.”“Obviously, the Sixties was a time when everyone wanted to experiment, and then everything became very formulated and corporate, so artists tended to get pushed into a kind of pattern. Now, I think that has continued with the emergence of televised talent shows like X Factor. They certainly help sell millions of records, and it’s very easy for the TV stations and the record companies because they’re getting free coverage, but I think they’re doing themselves a disservice because they’re actually destroying the quality of the music they’re promoting.”

By Jonathan WingateLondon - July, 1969

[stop-talking]

Got a cute fluff request for Clapton Davis x reader (in detention together)

(no gender was specified so I made in gender neutral)

I'm only 1k words into writing it but here's a sneak peek because I'm excited:

-----------------------------------------------------------

"I haven't seen you around before. You new?" He gives you a sheepish grin, eyes flickering with mischief as he takes you in. "Yeah." You respond dismissively, giving him a flat stare. Please just pick on someone else, Clapton Davis. "Cool, cool..." He crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling. You watch as he restlessly taps his feet and tries to balance on two legs of his chair. He's so high-strung. Like a chihuahua. Small like one too. Hah. The thought makes you smile, which he unfortunately notices and takes as a sign of interest. Damnit. "So... what are you in for?" He asks, treating the exchange like you're two inmates. Honestly, it's a fair comparison. "I, uh... Accidentally lit my teacher on fire." With a crash, Clapton tips back in his chair completely, hitting the floor. Hard. "You WHAT?"

[hollywoods-angel]

iggy <3

iggy was born as evelyn joyce to a british father and a mizo mother. they moved when she was very young, after protesters attacked their mansion. after moving to britain iggy was given a "proper ladylike" education- tutors, playing violin, voice lessons, ballet lessons, but it didn't do much for her.

she ran away, and when she was around 17 she started getting into the british music scene of the 60s. she was nicknamed "iggy the eskimo" due to her look, but she wasn't an eskimo. she dated eric clapton for a while, but they broke it off after she saw him go with another woman into a club. she partied a lot- she'd leave a party, sleep on the street and go to another one.

she's most known for posing on syd barrett's album "the madcap laughs." the two were a couple for a while after he left pink floyd, and they shared a flat together. he wanted to have kids with her. iggy never really found much success, she had oppurtunities to model and act, but she never took them. she had horrible anxiety and ran away from oppurtunities.

iggy picked up an addiction to speed, and it stuck with her for the rest of her life. in the 70s she had to get a job, she got married too. she was very sweet and loved meeting her fans, and interacted with them online. she was a free-spirit- during the 60s she was filmed climbing trees, running barefoot and laughing. she hardly ever told people her name, she really embodied the 60s spirit.

[fuckyeahvanhalen86-95]

Gene Simmons recently spoke to Louder to offer his reflections on the late, great Eddie Van Halen. In the piece, Simmons recalls witnessing early Van Halen shows, his friendship with EVH and, in the process, dismisses comparisons to the late electric guitar icon’s own hero, Eric Clapton.

Instead, says Simmons, “Eddie was a complete guitar symphony in his own right” and, as such, the frontman maintains EVH had more in common with classical composers than blues-based players.

“What really intrigued me about Van Halen was that they came out of nowhere,” says Simmons. “Edward has talked about being a fan of [Eric] Clapton. I’m sorry, I don’t see that. Where other guitarists were inspired by B.B. King or Albert King, Edward was playing majors and minors and flat-thirds. What he did was closer to classical music.”

Elsewhere in his Louder interview, Simmons recalls the first time he saw Van Halen perform (at Holywood club The Starwood in 1976) and says that - contrary to popular myth - he did not discover the band, stating "I just happened to be there."

That popular myth, of course, may have been down to Simmons previously telling Howard Stern “I discovered Van Halen” – but either way, he was there.

“I saw them that night and was left incredulous,” recalls Simmons in his Louder interview. “I stood at the front of the stage and couldn’t believe my eyes and ears. This was one man making all of these sounds with his bare human hands?”

At that point, Simmons says, Van Halen’s talent was already clear, and the guitarist had already started trying to protect some of his trade secrets.

“In those early days Ed would sometimes stand with his back to the audiences because he didn’t want to give his tricks away,” remembers the Kiss icon. “But even if you saw how he played those licks, how could you possibly emulate them?”

Later in the piece, the frontman argues that the quality of Van Halen’s compositions is often overlooked, and says he is concerned about modern audiences overlooking the legacy of the guitar icon.

“As much as his death was upsetting, it also made me a little furious that so many of our so-called ‘younger generation’ remain unaware of his talents,” says Simmons.

“For fuck’s sake, parents should be slapping mobile phones out of their kids’ hands and telling them to check out this guy. Our millennials need to know about the most important musician since Jimi Hendrix. There will never be another like him.”

Most millennials are now pushing 40, so Simmons' rant is seemingly actually aimed at Gen Z, or maybe just yunguns’ in general.

Regardless, given that cohort seems to contain some of the more technically gifted and musically open-minded players we’ve seen yet – not least of them Eddie Van Halen’s own son, Wolfgang – perhaps that legacy is not in as much danger as the Kiss man fears.

Indeed, Eddie Van Halen’s Hot For Teacher Kramer recently sold for almost $4,000,000, suggesting he’s hardly fallen off the radar….

To read Gene Simmons' full interview, head to Louder.

[delux2222]

Happy Birthday, Long John Baldry (1941-2005)

When, in 1975, Elton John sang plaintively that “Someone Saved My Life Tonight,” that someone was blues singer Long John Baldry, who was born on this day.

Baldry, known as Long John because of his 6ft 7in stature, had formed a band known as Bluesology some years earlier. The line-up included Reg Dwight on keyboard and Elton Dean on saxophone. When Dwight later launched a solo career, he “borrowed” band members’ names and came up with Elton John.

Before that he was sharing a flat in the East End of London with his fiancee, Linda Woodrow, a secretary, and lyricist Bernie Taupin. Reg and Linda met on Christmas Eve in 1967 at a cabaret club and by 1969 were engaged to be married.

With the wedding day getting ever nearer, a desperately reluctant Dwight, secretly gay and unable to think of a way out of the situation, sank into depression and tried to commit suicide.

That’s when Baldry, backed up by Taupin, took Dwight to one side and told him that he had to forget suicide, face up to his sexuality and call off the wedding. And that’s what Dwight did, although he did not come out as a gay person until 1988.

The 1975 song, written by Taupin and set to music by the then celebrated Elton John, tells the story. The opening line, "When I think of those East End lights" is a reference to the London flat. Linda Woodrow is the “Princess perched in her electric chair,” and the “Sugar Bear” who “saved my life tonight” is Long John Baldry.

In 1984, Linda Woodrow moved to the US, got married and had three children. She says that when Elton John – “Reg,” as she still thinks of him – arrived home at 4.30am that day after drinking with Taupin and Baldry and told her that the wedding was off, she was “devastated.”

Now, she says, she has moved on. “There is no bitterness,” she adds.

Little known outside the UK, the genial Baldry was liked and respected by many stars, including the Beatles, the Rolling Stones and Eric Clapton. And he launched the career of Rod Stewart, who became Sir Roderick in October 2016 – knighted at Buckingham Palace for his charity work as well as services to music.

Stewart said in a Reader’s Digest interview in 2004: “Long John Baldry launched me on my musical career. I was 18 and playing harmonica and singing a Muddy Waters song in a railway station, when John ran over to me from the other side of the tracks.

“I had just been to see him play at a club. He was one of the top bluesmen in England. And now he was asking, ‘Would you like to join the band?’

“Picture this elegant man with a proper English accent, never without a tie, a towering six-foot-seven. I was a huge fan and I was intimidated by his offer. I immediately said yes.

“I wasn’t very good on the harmonica, but my gravelly voice had caught his attention. For me, just shaking his hand – knowing all the great musicians whose hand he’d shaken before – was mind-blowing.

“John taught me so much – things that apply to my life and things that made me the human being I am today. See me on stage and you’re seeing what John taught me.

“Everyone looked up to him and he turned some of us into musical legends, but it was never what he expected for himself. He just played the clubs and was happy doing that.

"He was never a huge recording star so he may not be a legend in the proverbial sense, but he’s a cult hero with his own following and the fans who flock to his performances.”

A year after this interview, Long John Baldry, whose only big hit, “Let the Heartaches Begin,” topped the charts in 1967, died in Canada from a chest infection. He was 64.

As he was fighting for his life, a distressed Rod Stewart kept a bedside vigil – and paid the medical bills.

by Ray Setterfield

[lovenoni22]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Eric Clapton 2001 World Tour Tee XL.

[adesertintime]

For quite a while, I am overwhelmed. For some reason, I almost immediately find an image in my head that doesn't allow me to understand, but at least describe the situation, and that I now cling to, to have at least a modicum of abstraction going on. That image is that I have been given a severe whack with a frying pan. I can almost remember the corresponding sharp and transient impact sound and its metallic reverberation, and my mind, much like a trapped ulnar nerve, is now enslaved by the trajectory that is dictated by the early part of a damped oscillation.

As often with such things, there is a lot of irony in how it all comes about. Josh and Bede sleep at our empty flatshare after elegant Dan has had too much whisky and weed at Jonas' farewell garden party and is now, after emptying his stomach into André's toilet for a good while, occupying Jonas' couch instead of taking the car back to Edinburgh together with David. In the morning, Bede leaves early for a Fringe show, and so after waking up relatively late, Josh and I sit at our kitchen table, together with Jonas, having some caffè and pains au chocolat before we plan to head off to the sauna. We talk about Dan, I bring up how elegant the man had appeared to me at first, with his physique, his suit, his demeanour, and his watch. Josh mentions how he lost his ex-girlfriend from Italy to Dan, something Josh had emotionally overcome, but something that had happened between them. In my caffeinated mood, I must get my mother's Eric Clapton - Story CD from my room, and we must listen to "Further on up the Road". Soon after, we are sweating together in the Arlington Baths. I am still quite bubbly and chatty and talk a lot, with pretty lateral associations, kind of in that way that I do not permit Jonas to talk in without me hating him for it. Josh is just someone who knows how to make people talk about things that are important to them, someone I want to entrust with my whole life, someone who won't judge, someone who will understand. Josh mentions how something slaps, and I mention how someone had recently chastised my usage of the verb "slap" in that context as a ridiculous example of internet slang that they considered to be of particularly bad style. Josh does not seem as if this would change his vocabulary, but picks up on the thought by asking for more details about the hater, and I continue to mention that they were from Yorkshire, and that I recently dumped them, and hasten to add that I was not proud of it. Whether it was a Gestalt thing or a particular problem, Josh asks, and I chuckle to my German psychologist self and say yeah, it was a Gestalt thing, but something that was very far from being that person's fault, and that I felt sorry about it. Someone else entered the chat I say, and the Yorkshire person had been found on the apps, and now I drop the next brick, finding someone on the apps always left that slight sense of dissatisfaction for me in relationships. Jonas is sitting in the sauna, too, and I try to save the situation by mentioning that I rationally know that this is a stupid way to think about relationships, that I know entirely wholesome relationships coming from the apps, but that I just can't shake off this feeling about them. Another stranger in the sauna, who had, much to our disliking, forced us to listen to the BBC 3 in the gym earlier, chimes in and says that he feels the same as me.

Now we are at roots and fruits for a traditional Saturday brunch after the Arlington. André and Ina are there, too, and report that Dan must have left the house earlier. And Lavinia is there, arriving a bit later. Instead of following my continuously forwarded updates and invitations to tag along for our steamy morning routine, she has brought food to her colleague Dom, who is working his life away in the School of Infection and Immunology. The discussion reaches Josh's private life. He is going to move in with his partner, who is buying a flat, and working, and working out, and running marathons, and the like. I think Lavinia asks how they met, or was it some other similar question. They met on the apps. How her own relationship situation was looking like, Josh asks back. And it is this moment which completely deranges my life for a few days. Lavinia seems surprised by the question, and says, I think she says ambiguous, the situation is ambiguous, or complicated, or something like that, and Josh says oh I see it is ambiguous, ahah, and Lavinia nods, and blushes and smiles, and during all of this I try not to look at her and not react to it, but also a frying pan is being slammed in my face, and I have the worst pokerface of them all, so probably I am not very successful, and Jonas quickly de-escalates the situation and asks for Josh's leftover tomatoes that he didn't finish, and instructs me to have some as well, and somehow I manage to grind out that I am full, and I avoid eye contact with Lavi, who gives me an insecure smile, and soon after we pay and leave, and all I want is to either disappear or be just with Lavi to talk, but we are trapped in this script of a social situation of friends who are going to hang out in the garden on a sunny afternoon, and I wait in front of the café, and lean against a lamp post, while others are getting groceries from roots and fruits, and I try to smile into the sun and look relaxed, and Ina, who has probably heard about what is going on between Lavi and me comes out and says I look cool, in an encouraging and nurturing way, and we head to Huntly Gardens to sit in the sun, and Lavi takes a photo of Jonas and me from behind.

We end up lying in the grass, Lavi has brought a blanket and asks me if I want to lie on it, too, which I do, I lie on the blanket and put on my sunglasses and close my eyes and give in to a strong dizziness. Everyone is reading, but I have no book, instead I entertain myself with the rotating universe in my head. Lavi lies next to me and starts reading a book, what is the book someone asks, and Lavi responds it is a book given to her by Ele, and it is about love and narcissism, and my world rotates faster and wilder, and it might be now that I for the first time think how interesting it all is, I start observing my feelings rather than just feeling them, and I wonder, who is the narcissist, am I a narcissist, IATA, is she a narcissist, what is going on, why did she say that, mmh what you say, mmh what did she say, this smells like the beginning of the end I think, the strength of my reaction seems weird to me from a rational perspective, but it also must mean that the whole thing between Lavi and me is important to me, that is an informative thing to see so clearly, and I am lying there, and Lavi cuddles up to me, and I am getting even more confused, and at the same time I enjoy it and smile, and am overwhelmed, I have to pee, but I don't want to move, so it takes me a good while to pick up on some movement amongst us sunbathers and ask for the keys to go to Jonas' apartment to pee, and as I step back up the stairs from Jonas' apartment, Lavi is waving through the house's windowed front door, we stand in the corridor, and she says she doesn't need a toilet, she just wanted to talk to me, and she asks if I am ok, and that she realised that I am not ok, and I am close to crying when I say that I have no pokerface, Lavi says that's good, I say that she can say whatever she feels about her situation and that my reaction to that is stupid, and she says she didn't know what she was supposed to say, it was just Josh and not Yuxi and Jonas, she barely knows Josh, and I say that I think that the situation is interesting, that I like her, that I like spending time with her, and that my reaction tells me how important the thing between us is to me, and she says she needs time, and there is some heads getting closer to one another, and probably it is me trying to be tender with her, and her just trying to react in a way that is not too rejecting, and we go to the garden, and she says she actually would need a toilet, but she now prefers to not go, and we are again lying on the blanket, and I am only slightly less confused, this was only a tiny fraction of the amount of exchange I needed, and I close my eyes and think about the short conversation, and I get extremely dizzy right away, she needs time, this really feels like the beginning of the end, how do you bounce back from this, and I maybe think about how I would have wanted to talk about it all earlier, how I had wanted to tell her how writing to her on Thursday about ho bisogno di un abraccio felt like a risky move because I was again so needy to see her and the only one trying to initiate contact over the last few days if not two weeks, and she seemed to need so much time for herself and her work, so I felt I was probably ruining it by not just doing my own thing instead, but how at the same time I so much wanted to see her and talk to her, and all of it felt so weird because at the same time it felt so intimate and close and beautiful on Friday night at Rali's and at Lavi's afterwards and in the morning, but then so distant again at Jonas' garden party, and how I started to worry about how I mentioned to people that her mum was running a design gallery in Milan, and how she maybe didn't like me to publicise these private family details, so was that why she didn't want to see me again in the night after Jonas' party, and so on and so forth, I am ruminating and rotating, and breathing and thinking, and wondering about misunderstandings, and not being given anywhere close to enough time with Lavi to just address all of these things rather than freak out over them.

I want a book as well, and getting a book from home could be so quick, couldn't it, a subway home and back, could be just 20 minutes couldn't it, so I go to get Infinite Jest, and I stumble into Stratos, and we chat about his finished MSc dissertation, and his flat situation, and I awkwardly mention how he might move in with us once Galen leaves, and he mentions how I am his supervisor and how this would be somewhat weird, and I don't mind, I admit that this could be weird indeed, and say I got to run now but invite him to come by Jonas' garden later, and he wants to go and eat something now, and I take the subway home and lie on my bed and just want to cry, and can't get up for probably 15 minutes, then I reply to Donata who is inviting me to an aperitivo at hers, I say I'll make it by 7:45, and I go back to Jonas' garden, and I read a few pages, and then Stratos comes, and we chat about this and that, and Lavi is gone, and everybody is leaving, and Jonas goes into his apartment, but Lavi's stuff is still there, and I pack it up and Lavi calls, she is just back at the garden door next to her apartment, so I go there with Stratos and her stuff, we hand it over, and she is there with Dom who has cut his finger and fixed it with a bandaid, and I ask the two Italians what one does for an invitation for an aperitivo as I am not sure what the best thing to bring is, and Lavi says that I should go there, that it sounds great, and I feel angry for her telling me that because I did not ask if I should go, I wanted to know what I should bring, I wanted this to be a way of telling her that I am busy and unavailable tonight, ideally as a response to her asking me if we should do something that evening, but it doesn't turn out that way, and now I ask if wine and some crisps sound good, and Dom and Lavi agree that this would be a good idea, and Stratos and me head back to our bikes and cycle away, me to Waitrose and then home, where I find the Eric Clapton CD still on the kitchen table with its back side facing up, together with the coffee cups, so I take a snapshot of the kitchen table with an f-stop of 2.0 and move the focus on track 7 on the track listing, and I post it on instagram and feel good about it, nobody knows what it means to me in that moment and nobody likes the picture.

I move on to Donata's, where I feel completely numb, but I am happy to see Donata, and I drink a lot, and we mostly talk about superficial stuff, succulent Chinese meals, Italy, Rita who wasn't available, how the Normans invaded Great Britain, the Lord of The Rings, JRR Tolkien, how Donata's workplace in Italy treated her like crap, there is some friend of Donata's and Elias with her dog Patchy who wants to just fetch forever, we go inside in their living room and I am really drunk and feel somewhat fuzzy with Donata and Aonghas, and finally we listen to Eric Clapton's "Further On Up The Road" on Aonghas' glorious sound system.

[alainamama17]

100 Days of Music - Music Challenge

Day 44 (10/3/23)

Have to say these past two days of enjoying all things British have been wonderful. I've loved the posts you all have shared. We're changing gears though now and getting on to a new theme.

Remember the old ad phrase, "Is it live, or is it Memorex?" If you're Gen-X you probably do. Well, that has a little to do with our theme for today. Our theme for today is, what is or what are some songs you enjoy the actual live recordings of?

There's a lot of good ones out there. What are some of your faves?

Ants Marching (Live at Piedmont Park) - Dave Matthews Band

Wonderful Tonight (24 Nights Live) - Eric Clapton

I'm on Fire (Live at Giants Stadium, E. Rutherford, NJ - August 1985) - Bruce Springsteen

What Kind of Fool - Barbra Streisand & Barry Gibb

(Had to add one more via edit- don't know how I forgot this one knowing how much I love it)

Praying for Time (Symphonica Tour at the Royal Albert Hall, London, on 10/29/2011) - George Michael)

These are some (but not all) of my faves

What are some of yours?

@worldleaderpretend1969, @biggreenhouse, @lusnicky, @delightedobserverintraining, @prbworld21, @flat-in-life, @oni-with-an-iron-club, @words-music, @oshea52, @bohicabill, @mistymountainway, @switching-to-glide, @itsmythang, @dadbodplus50somethin8, @unleashedgent, @secondlifep, @interestedin-life, @greigferguson, @chaotic-music-collector, @musiclandoux, @a-lil-jaded-1, @uncletomcobblyandall2,

[janetburston]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Eric Clapton 50 Years Further On Up The Road Unisex T-Shirt Men's Size Large.