#we have pancake mix so the prep times are the same for both

[butwhyduh]

Dead Clown 🤡

Jason todd x reader

Warning: smut, murder but it’s okay.

Jason pulled his helmet off and ignored the rain that poured down his face. He had to see this without a filter. He even considered taking off the domino mask but he was out in the open. The pouring freezing rain had him shivering but Jason was unaware. He literally couldn’t believe the sight before him.

The joker was laying in his back, the pasty skin on his forehead was marred by 2 small holes. The back of his stupid green hair looked almost black when mixed with blood. Blood and water mixed in a pink puddle around his head. Jason forced himself to check for a pulse before hitting his comms.

“Bats, you need to get down here,” he said in a shocked voice. “The joker is dead.”

“..... are you okay,” Bruce said in a measured voice.

“I’m fine. He was dead when I got here,” Jason added knowing he was number one suspect.

“On the way.”

Batman and Red Robin showed up shortly with Robin not far behind. It didn’t take long for the detectives to believe Jason’s innocence. The evidence didn’t match him.

Jason sat on a piece of concrete near the scene as they worked. He had hoped to see this for years now. But it wasn’t the same. Maybe it was because Jason didn’t get his revenge or because it looked too neat. Two quick shots to the brain. Probably didn’t even see it coming before he was lights out.

Bruce walked over to him as the other two took photos and bagged evidence. A little blood here. Some fabric fibers there. No fingerprints because of the heavy rain but a bullet casing.

“Did you see who shot him?”

“No B. I literally got here and he was already out. He was supposed to have a drug drop but I guess that didn’t happen,” Jason said with a shrug.

“You were going to fight him alone,”Bruce said with a raised brow.

“No. Just reconnaissance. I would have called it in,” Jason defended himself. Bruce gave him a side look before moving on to the case.

“Commissioner Gordon is on the way,” Tim said. He held bags of evidence carefully in his lanky fingers. “We’re finish collecting-“

“Can we go home, father? It’s freezing cold,” Damian interrupted. Bruce sighed before looking at him.

“Red Robin was talking but yes, you both should back to the cave to process everything. Red Hood, you too. The commissioner knows you have a history with the joker so it’s best you leave too. I’ll take care of this,” Bruce said carefully. Any wrong word might set Jason off with his trauma over the death of his murderer.

“Uh yeah, sure man,” Jason said clearly distracted. He would usually argue with everything Bruce said and this made Bruce even more worried for the young man. He sent a quick message to Dick before the commission met got there.

——————————

“We’re running the tests right now and there really isn’t much else to do. Robin already went to bed. Go home Hood and get some sleep,” Tim said by the computers. Jason hadn’t bothered to get out of his suit or shower.

“How long? How long until you get results?”

“Oh, uhhh maybe 12 hours? A while. Sorry DNA testing isn’t like in the movies. The meta or clone tests are even longer. It probably won’t be until tomorrow night that we know anything,” Tim said turning in his chair. “Get some sleep.”

Jason considered giving him a nasty comment but held it. He certainly felt dead on his feet and had a nice warm woman waiting at home for him.

“Call when you know anything,” he said with a growl.

“Yeesh, yeah. I will,” Tim said backing away. “Say it. Don’t spray it,” he muttered as Jason walked away.

———————————

Jason trudged into the apartment leaving wet clothing in his wake until he stumbled to bed in nothing but his boxer briefs. You were going to be mad at him for the mess in the morning but that could wait. He looked at you asleep on the bed. You looked so sweet and innocent. Like an angel compared to his dirty hands that practically dripped blood every night.

He slid under the blanket and pressed close to your warm form. You gasped awake before relaxing when you realized it was just Jason. Did you not realize he could kill you 84 different ways in your sleep? It didn’t really matter as you snuggled your head into the crook of his neck and slid your legs to entangle with his. Jason’s arms automatically wrapped around you and rubbed your back until your breathing was even in sleep. He stared at the ceiling until the hint of dusk could be seen outside.

Jason woke with a gasp followed by a moan as he felt perfect wet heat encompass his dick. He looked down to see the blankets move rhythmically as you slid your mouth along his dick. He blinked himself more awake to truly enjoy it.

It wasn’t the first time you had woken him as such but it was certainly a rare occurrence. Reserved for birthdays and Christmas, he couldn’t imagine what he did to deserve such a wonderful wake up.

“Fuck! Princess,” he groaned as you swirled before taking him deep. You hummed questionably.

“What did I, mmmm, do to deserve such a fuck! Perfect mouth. Perfect wake up,” he said pushing covers down to show you between his legs. You looked up at him with big innocent eyes as you licked long hot strips up his cock. You took him deep in your mouth before sliding off with a pop.

“I can’t spoil you?” You purred and he twitched. How did he get so lucky? “Do you want to finish in my mouth or can I ride you first?” You asked and he god honest choked on his spit.

“Baby, *cough* whatever you want, what. Ever. you want,” he said and you grinned before climbing up his body to straddle him. His hands ran along the side of your body before gripping your hips. You sunk down on him with a little mewl.

“Fuck Princess, you’re so wet. Do you like... do you like sucking my cock?” He asked breathlessly.

“Of course, Jaybird. Sometimes I touch myself when I blow you, like today,” you admitted with a sweet little giggle. He almost came right them. How could you say the dirtiest things while being the sweetest person he’d ever known?

Jason reached his thumb down to rub your clit as you moved. You whined before nodding at him. Your mouth fell open and your hips sped up. He knew that you weren’t going to last long. You really did get hot and bothered blowing him. You made little whined and whimpers before moaning his name loudly as you came. Your body clenching on him was enough and he thrust up into you as he came as well. You bent down and kissed him deeply. Jason was panting by the time you pulled back.

“Loved that for sure, but what the hell was that, Princess,” Jason asked breathlessly as you climbed off and threw on some clothing. You chuckled a little before tossing him his boxers.

“Just wanted to wake you up this morning. Do you want some pancakes, Jay,” you asked. He sat up and pulled them on.

“You certainly did. And I never say no to food. Especially my favorite food,” Jason said with a grin. “Is it secretly my birthday? Am I dying and you’re prepping me beforehand?”

You laughed. “You already did that, baby.”

Jason gasped a little before laughing.

“I just wanted to treat you like you deserve. Pick a movie. There’s a new slasher out that you can tear apart,” you said walking in the kitchen and grinned at Jason’s heart eye look he gave you.

He looked through the movies without paying them much mind. He’d seen the joker dead the day before and now his girlfriend was spoiling him. He didn’t know what to think about. He’d think about the joker finally being dead. He couldn’t hurt Jason or those near him any more. You’d been kidnapped 6 months earlier and it had almost ripped Jason apart when he found you bloody and beaten. Luckily alive though.

Then he thought about how sweet you were. A perfect angel who had nothing to do with that life. You couldn’t kill someone if you tried. He just wanted to keep you in an innocent bubble, especially after being kidnapped.

“Jay? Jason?” You said near him and he jumped. He had been so lost in thought that he didn’t notice you coming over to him with a plate of food. Heart shaped pancakes covered in whipped cream stared up at him and Jason had a little grin on his face.

“Sorry, thanks. This looks good,” he said and you grinned before sitting with your own. Jason turned on a movie and sat next to you to eat.

Jason’s phone rang.

He gave you an apologetic look before answering.

“Yeah,” he answered before quickly standing up to talk in another room. Definitely bat business, it sounded like. He came back in a few minutes putting on his suit. He bent and shoved most of a pancake in his mouth. Jason pulled you to your feet and swirled you around before holding you by the waist. You giggled.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“I’ve got to work. But when I get back, I’m making up for this morning, okay? Breakfast was amazing,” he said before pulling you into a dizzying kiss. You nodded before he left.

——————————

Jason arrived at the cave and realized something was instantly wrong. Tim, Dick, Damian, Bruce, and even Alfred were waiting for him around the computers. He slowly walked up. They didn’t think he did it, did they? Jason looked around in case of a fight.

“I have some bad news,” Dick said. Jason just stared at him. Dick sighed. “We know who killed the joker. You won’t like it. You- you might want to sit down.”

Jason frowned at his tone. It was the tone you used when telling a kid their parents died. He looked at the computer to see surveillance footage of the roof where he found the joker. He clenched his fist as the mad man walked in the screen.

“You know, this is the worst meeting place in the world,” joker said with a laugh. Jason’s eyebrows rose. He hasn’t expected audio. “So what do you have that I might want on the birds?”

A female voice off camera could be heard saying, “peace of mind.”

“Doubt you could give me that Princess,” he said in a mocking tone. His posture was casual even though the lower half of a woman’s body had walked into the screen and she held a gun in hand pointed at him. She froze at his words.

Jason couldn’t look away if he wanted to.

“Yeah, I know,” joker said. “I forget faces. Too many changing and quite a few people are a little two faced,” he said with a laugh. “But I never forget a voice. You sounded so much more sweet when you were crying tied to a chair. And the way you sobbed when I brought out the crowbar.... music to my ears. I bet it just reminded you of a certain bird that just didn’t quite make it the first time.”

“Shut up. I- I don’t care,” she said. Jason’s heart was in his throat. He knew exactly who that was before Tim’s DNA tests were complete. She moved around a little nervously.

“Honey, Princess,” he said drawn out in a mock of Jason’s voice. “Unless you plan on using that gun, put it down and we can play a game. You like games? You play one with the red bat all the time. Does he know? Does he know that you’ve been hunting me for.... geez, since you were kidnapped I’d bet.”

“Now drop that gun and I show you what pain really feels like,” he growled and she shot him in the forehead before he moved. He made a disconnected sound before falling to his knee, perfect height to be seen in the camera. She shot him again between the eyes and he fell back silently. His body splashed on the rainy roof before blood began to pool behind his head. The woman looked for a second, her body language painfully stiff, before running out the way she came.

The cave was silent as Jason realized what he just saw. He blinked a few times before clearing his throat. Has she- did she-??

“I assume the DNA matches?” He asked and Tim nodded before sliding him a paper copy. 98% match. Only chance it wasn’t you was an evil twin or clone but no, he noticed the clothing and mannerisms. It was you.

“Are you going to bring her in?” Bruce asked quietly and Jason gaped.

“I sure as shit ain’t. She killed the man who kidnapped her and abused her. That sounds like self defense to me,” he defended. Dick looked at him in pity and Jason quickly looked away.

“It was premeditated, Jason,” Bruce reminded him.

“I know. I’ll take care of it. She’s not going to prison. I’ll talk to her,” he said. Bruce gave him a hard look. “You come near her- I swear to god, Bruce. I’ll shoot you myself.”

Jason got up to leave. Dick moved out of his way. He wasn’t getting in this.

“Jason,” Bruce said but Jason was already gone.

——————————

Jason was a pretty smart guy but he was completely shocked at this moment. What possessed you to kill the joker? To seek him out? A man that tried to kill you and you were willing to meet him alone? Not even Jason wanted to do that. And that morning you were treating Jason special. He thought for a second that you killed the joker for him. It chilled him to the bone but he put that thought out of his head. No, you had your own reasons to do it.

Jason walked in the apartment cautiously. Who knows how you would be acting, the perfect girlfriend or finally breaking down when you realized you killed a man. He found you in the bedroom asleep. You didn’t look like you had just killed someone and for a second Jason had doubt but the video and DNA didn’t lie.

He crawled in bed with you. You pulled him close and laid your head on his chest and Jason’s heart hurt. You looked fine but killing people left scars and your first time killing someone was not something you forget.

You woke with a gasp and cry hours later. You trembled and grasped at Jason tightly. He woke up confused before pulling you closer.

“Hey, Princess, I’m right here. You’re okay,” he said rubbing your back and holding you close. “What’s going on?”

“I see him. When I sleep. Every time,” you breathed almost in tears. Jason kissed your cheek and he felt wetness on your skin. You had been crying. He didn’t want to ask but now was as good a time as any.

“Princess, what did you do last night?” Jason asked so quietly. You looked up at him quickly and it confirmed everything he needed to know.

“Nothing. I was here. All night. Wh-why?” You asked, lying terribly. Jason sighed. He closed his eyes before willing himself to speak.

“You know I’m a detective. I can tell that you’re lying,” Jason started gently.

“What does that mean,” you said a little too quickly. Your breathing started to speed up again and Jason hated the look of fear on your face.

“I’m not mad. I won’t turn you in. Just tell me what happened,” he said softly, watching you intently. You wanted to shrink away a little.

“I can’t,” you whispered. Your eyes started to water and you blinked them away.

“Did you do it? Did you kill him? I can help you,” Jason said and you froze. “Talk to me.”

“I-I did,” you said looking at him in terror. Your eyes were red rimmed. “I did.”

“I’m sorry,” he said pulling you tight to his body. You broke down in little sobs and clung to him. “I’m so sorry that you thought you had to. I should have. I’m sorry.” He wrapped you up and made little shhh noises and you cried until you fell back asleep.

You woke up later with a pounding headache wrapped up tightly against Jason. He was on his phone but sat it down when he saw you were up.

“Hey,You don’t have to worry about it. I’ve taken care of everything,” he said ever so gently. You nodded.

“What does that mean?” You asked slowly.

“Red Hood took the wrap on it. No great loss with one less psycho in Gotham. Harley Quinn had an impromptu parade with hyenas and jugglers and everything. Nightwing made an appearance. Dick said Barbie slept through the night for the first time in months and she said she’d help you with anything you need,” Jason said trying to be positive. You gave him a dry smile.

“That’s nice. What about- what about Batman?” You asked.

“He’s Batman. But he’ll get over it. And the next time you kill a murderous clown, let me help. He could have killed you. And if anyone knows how to hide a body, it’s me,” Jason said giving you a squeezing hug. You smiled despite yourself.

“I’ll remember that. I’m a little sad I missed the hyena parade,” you admitted.

“Oh she’s having a parade every day this week. An anonymous donor gave her a ton of fireworks. Fairly certain it was Tim,” Jason said.

[soupandsimple]

Pancake Morning (with Sirius Black)

[ you begin your day using your sons to start getting back at Sirius for some teasing the day before that had resulted in nothing ]

* fluff / little spicy topic involved

** a continuous thing of mine where I imagine you and Sirius have three sons; in this their ages range from 8-4 oh also I LOVE THIS I LOVE THIS I LOVE THIS and hope you do too!

……………..

It was morning, you were in the kitchen of your big country house getting ready to prepare some pancake batter. Your husband, Sirius Black was still asleep as were your three boys or so you thought until your two youngest showed up together in the kitchen.

“G’morning mummy” said the older of the two.

“Good morning my babies, how’d you two sleep?”

“Are we having pannycakes?” asked the youngest, completely ignoring your question once he saw the box of pancake mix on the counter.

“Yes we are, is that okay?” you asked pretending as if you weren’t sure even though you knew fully well that pancake mornings was one of their favorite things.

Both boys quickly nodded frantically with big grins on their faces. You winked at them with a smile and continued on with the prep.

“Where’s daddy?” asked the oldest.

“He’s not awake yet buddy” you said as you casted a spell for the wooden spoon to stir up the ingredients in the bowl.

“Can we wake him today?” the same boy asked.

Usually, you didn’t let them wake Sirius. You loved the boys but waking up to two, and back when your oldest was younger, three jumping boys, was not that fun. Buttttt since Sirius had done a fantastic job of subtly teasing you all day yesterday and then falling straight to sleep once hitting the bed without rewarding you last night, you thought he deserved this wake up call from the boys.

“Yes, you can wake him today” you said proudly to your sons.

Huge smiles appeared on their faces as they hurriedly ran off in the direction of your bedroom. You laughed to yourself at what you had just granted them permission to do. Sirius wouldn’t be too thrilled but hey, you weren’t to thrilled with what he had or rather hadn’t done last night.

With hands holding up your face, you let yourself rest on your elbows on the kitchen island to listen in on the chaos. After a few seconds of waiting, you heard an eruption of loud giggles coming from the boys and could very clearly picture them jumping up and down near and atop of Sirius. You then heard it quiet down and knew that meant they, along with Sirius would be on their way soon so you quickly took a hold of the bowl of mix and acted as if you had been busy stirring it the whole time.

Upon hearing nearby footsteps, you turned to the doorway of the kitchen to see a shirtless, bed headed Sirius holding on to both boys by the collar of their pajama shirts. You covered your mouth to try to hide the smile forming upon your lips at the sight before you.

“Did you send these boys in?” he asked pretending to be mad as a show for the giggling boys below him.

With pursed lips now you shook your head, “I was mixing this” you said lifting up the bowl to showcase it, “they must have slipped past me.”

Sirius squinted his eyes at you, “Yes I’m sure that’s what happened.” He looked down at the boys and then crouched down to their level, “If you tell me the truth, I’ll give you permission to go wake up your big brother. Now tell me, did mummy let you do this?”

The boys looked at you then at each other, very much enjoying the little game. “Yes!” the older one exclaimed. “Yes!” the younger one chimed in clearly only following his brothers lead.

Sirius laughed as if he had just uncovered the greatest secret, “Good boys,” he exclaimed giving them both a kiss on their heads, “you can go and wake up your brother now but be gentle pleasee” he instructed them as they ran off quickly for their second wake up call job of the day.

Sirius then stood up and walked over to where you stood currently pouring some batter onto the hot pan on the stove then turned to him.

“Good morning oh dear one” Sirius said in a bit of a theatrical tone with a less than content smile. You knew he wasn’t happy with your little joke but nonetheless leaned in and pouted his lips for a morning kiss but you also still weren’t happy with what he had done yesterday so instead of kissing him you took a swipe of pancake batter from the bowl and dolloped it on his lips.

“Good morning,” you said, tone devoid of any regret as you planted a slow kiss on his cheek. You then pulled back and licked the leftover batter off your finger.

He looked at you, eyes gleaming as a small smirk appeared on his face at your antics. You wiggled your eyebrows up and then back down with a stern smile and turned back to the stove. Sirius chuckled wiping the batter from his lips realizing now that he was in for a longgggg, torturous day with you. <3

[harringtonstudios]

best friend’s ex. (II)

plot: he’s your best friend’s ex and you should stay away, but it seems impossible.

A/N: i’m weak for this au what can i say.... hope everyone’s staying safe and enjoying the new songs!! pls give me feedback it fuels me on <3

masterlist!  part I.

Waking up to an warm arm wrapping tightly around your side isn’t normal. In far, it’s so far out of your daily routine, that for a second, you close your eyes again, will yourself to actually get up from the diluted dreamscape you seem to be in.

The same sight greets you the second time around, tuft of blonde hair resting on your chest on top of the white blanket that covers you both. There’s a head attached and it takes you a minute to place everything together before you feel yourself dry swallowing.

The Sahara Desert resides in your mouth, lines up on your tongue and you close your lips together at the uncomfortable feeling of a hangover crawling around you.

Colson Baker.

He’s still asleep, you can tell by the slow rise and fall of his body where it lies basically attached to yours. Why his head is tucked right under your chin, you can’t really explain, just like you can’t quite figure out why you’ve let this happen.

Attempting to shift a little, you hear a soft sound fall out from his lips, see his head move against the haven it rests on. Your chest feels heavy, not just cause of his added weight, but the intent behind it.

The sunlight in his room is filtering through the cracks between his dark curtains. You follow the trail of golden as it creeps over his wooden floor, tilts into the grooves of his floorboards, slides up the white walls.

It’s probably been a minute since you’ve been up, maybe two, but it feels like forever, stuck in this awful limbo.

Your phone starts ringing, tinny and harsh against the beacon of peace you’ve built up for yourself. It startles you enough that you automatically reach out to your side, only to meet empty space. This isn’t your bedroom, the table by your head isn’t there, and you have no idea where your phone is.

The ringtone does enough to wake Colson up. He grunts out something before shifting completely off of you, collapsing back into the mattress. His head is still lower than the various pillows on his bed, but he seems content, face relaxed against the sheets.

You take it in for a millisecond, trace your eyes over his parted pink lips, the faint hint of a scar prepped up between his eyebrows, the flutter of his lashes. 

Not yours, the warning sign shouts. Get away.

Your phone is still ringing when you slide off of his bed, wearing nothing, hastily wrapping the blanket around yourself. He shifts on the bed again, and you watch the way his hand reaches out, down to pull at something that isn’t even there. Your chest tightens again, but he’s just mumbling, sleep dazed and his eyes don’t open.

When you reach your phone, somehow it’s ended up across the room, hidden under your jeans from last night, you’ve had five missed calls.

Domi’s name flashes on your screen, followed by a battery warning and you hiss at the predicament you’ve put yourself in. You quickly text her, a simple: Safe. Will be home soon, with someone.

You don’t specify it past that, try to leave it as open-ended as you can. She’s going to dig, claw her way to the truth, but for now, there’s other things to worry about.

There’s a charger plugged next to his bed and you move over, still clutching his blanket as you bend down to attach your phone to it, satisfied as it slightly buzzes, muttering out “Fuck yeah.”

“Good morning to you too,” replies Colson, his voice deeper, twinged with hours of sleep and the lingering effects of vodka.

You straighten up, awkwardly smile at him, feeling very warm trapped between his feather downs. He smiles back, but lets his fingers rub at closing eyes.

“Where are my clothes?” he asks. It’s only then that you actually look at him fully in bed. He’s just as naked as you, bare and on display and you blush at his lack of modesty. It’s not unusual, even when Domi was dating him, you’d been mooned enough times to recognize his ass in a line up, but it feels intimate now.

“I have no idea,” you mumble, shifting your eyes away as he stretches his arms. He takes in the sight of you, the blanket loosely hanging over your body, the way your fingers clutch at it like a life preserver, saving you from something you can’t bare to name.

“Are you-?” he starts, but you cut him off nodding quickly. This doesn’t have to be a discussion, you don’t want this to be a discussion.

“Look I’ll just get my stuff and then be out of your way,” you rush out, eager to get back to a sense of normalcy. You’ve had one night stands before, you can handle this.

“No breakfast?” he mumbles and his eyes are lighting up, mischievous in the faint morning light.

“I’d rather starve,” you mutter, turning around to walk back to where your discarded skinny jeans lay.

“Oh c’mon, I know you better than that. We can get waffles or something?” he tries again and you hear him shuffling around as you awkwardly pull on jeans. It’s uncomfortable, you have no idea where your underwear is but at least you’re clothed, which is better than Colson.

“Domi likes waffles. I’m a pancake kinda girl,” you retort, antsy to prove something. He doesn’t know you, not as well as he claims to. Instead he’s mixing up the fragments of your best friend into you, swirling two different people together to create the one he wants.

“Right,” it’s dry, dying halfway in his throat. The silence in the room grows amidst the white noise of his air conditioner.

Picking up your shirt from the corner of his room, you pull it on, awkwardly adjusting it before balling up his blanket and walking over to drop it on his bed.

“Cover up your dick man,” you blurt out, hands running through the tangles in your hair, head jerking slightly at the pull.

“You weren’t saying that last night,” he smirks and you urge to wack him hard, maybe with one of his own weirdly soft pillows.

He reaches down into the drawers crammed under his bed, pulls out a pair of shorts and shuffles into them laughing at his own joke.

You do hit him then, pick up the nearest pillow, sheathed in that same silk pillowcase as the rest before throwing it his way.

He dodges it before flipping you off and the memory of it bites, nights spent throwing things at each other, the guys all egging you two on. Domi used to scoff whenever it started, yell about being childish and irritating, but you secretly knew she enjoyed it too, watched her boyfriend and best friend fight like old friends.

You snap out of it just as fast as you fell in, a pillow coming straight to hit you in the face.

“Colson!” you shout, hand going up to rub the impacted area as he smiles.

“Not sorry,” he simply shrugs and you scoff at him, push off the bed you’d sat on after the collision and go over to where he’s standing, reaching for your phone.

He blocks your hand, shifts over so that’s he standing right in your line of sight, eclipsing any further view. All you see is him, smirk permanently resting on his lips, array of colors bursting on his skin, faint whispers of something hidden in his eyes.

“My phone,” you try unceremoniously, knowing that he won’t let you past him.

“Do breakfast with me,” he demands, but its soft, a plea more than a request.

You sigh, it’s audible and you know he hears it by the slight sag of his shoulders but he’s relentless.

“It’s just like old times, won’t be weird,” he states and you find yourself laughing at his words.

“We both know that’s not true,” you say, eyes lifting up to meet his. There’s a hardness to his gaze and a part of you wants to break through it, dive in headfirst.

But this is not your territory, not your person, not your place. Domi’s etched into his soul, written somewhere, dipped into his past and no matter what you want, there is no feasible way you can be his present without ruining a friendship.

“It’s just pancakes,” he emphasizes, but he’s stepping aside all the same, letting you bend over and grab your phone.

When you turn back around, he has a shirt on, hair ruffled worse than it was when he woke up. It’s sticking up at ends and you fight the urge to walk over, laugh and pat it down.

He’s aimlessly searching for his own phone and you spot it on the windowsill, go over to pick it up and hand it off to him, murmuring, “Okay.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles out and you can’t tell whether it’s for offering his breakfast invitation or finding his phone.

You hesitate a second too long and he gives you a pointed look and then you’re moving into his space, crowding against his front.

His hands automatically fall onto your waist, pull you in but you can the confusion flickering across his face.

“Hey,” he softly says and something breaks in you.

It’s surprisingly easy to kiss him again, to drink in those lips, still warm from the early morning haze, softer than they were last night. There’s that now familiar ringing bell in the back of your head, but it disappears as Colson’s tongue slips into your mouth.

There’s obvious morning breath mingling with rank tastebuds and as much as you want to recoil, you don’t know if you’ll ever let this happen again so you soak it in, let the feeling overwhelm you.

Your fingers travel up to his messy hair, soothingly pulling at the strands in order to attempt tampering them down. He lets out a tiny groan as your nails slightly scratch at his scalp. You push further into him, fall enough that it seems like the only thing holding you up is him.

The door slams open just as you’re getting into it, leaning heavily against Colson’s body as he props himself on the wall.

The sound is enough to make you jump back, and there’s the confused look back on his face as you hastily wipe at your lips.

“You’re still here,” a voice stresses the syllables out, and you eye Rook standing there. He’s dressed, complete with that one snapback that seems to be permanently attached to his head, but the scowl on his face is all you can focus on.

“I was- um- just leaving,” you awkwardly stammer out, putting more distance between the person you seem to be magnetically attracted to.

“We’re getting breakfast. You wanna come along?” Colson spurts out without missing a beat, he’s striding towards the door and your face hardens.

There must have been some kind of miscommunication in the mess of his words, you must have read too far into it because here he was inviting his friend who clearly wasn’t too fond of you as if this was a casual thing.

“I’m good,” Rook says, tone easing when he’s speaking to his best friend. They walk out of view and you’re left alone in the room you’ve only been in twice.

There’s a bathroom right around the corner of his room and you head straight for it, pulling out the toothpaste from his cabinet and applying it to your finger, scrubbing your teeth. It’s primal, but at least you feel cleaner, a bit more aware in your head.

That kiss was stupid. This whole thing is a disaster, Domi’s still blowing up your phone and there’s a cherry pit growing in your stomach.

You step out and Colson’s standing across by the door, tying together his sneaker laces. Rook’s nowhere to be found and you thank the universe for that, far too early to be dealing with his seemingly intense grudge against you.

“I got the keys,” is all you get before the front door is opening and you’re following him down the hallway into the elevator.

Stems from last night come back to you in flashes. The chime of the elevator doors, the apartment numbers passing by in a daze, a clammy hand clutching yours, butterfly kisses on knuckles.

You snap out of it quick as you step into the elevator, expertly avoiding the corner where you’d given in to your heart and kissed Colson for the first time. It feels like a bad omen, shadowy dark and taunting as you both stand in silence, watching the floor numbers pass by.

“Do you have gum?” he asks, and it’s crisp in the August heat, cuts through the stuffiness in the traveling metal box.

You shuffle into your purse from last night, pull out a pack of gum you’d stuck in there and offer it to him going, “You didn’t brush?”

“You hogged the bathroom and I thought you’d wanna get out of there quick,” he explains nonchalantly, popping a stick of mint into his mouth. You tuck the gum back in, try not to watch the way he twirls the wrapper around in his hands.

“Thanks,” you mutter, hoping he gets the intent of what you actually mean. He nods as the doors ding open.

The lobby is surprisingly full, people sitting on the plush couches and there’s a slight, “Fuck,” mumbled out before Colson’s finding your hand and pulling you towards the garage.

“What-“ you get out before he shushes you, head down as you two move quickly.

He doesn’t explain, but you follow along, wondering why he’s running, hiding like he’s done something wrong. The garage door opens and both of you cross to where AJ’s van’s sitting, slew of motorcycles parked beside it.

“We should take the bikes,” he says, but it sounds like he’s already made up his mind and he’s picking apart the keys in his hand, dragging you over to the motorcycles.

“No what’s going on?” you rush out, pulling your hand from his as he clicks the lock on one of the machines.

“There’s a couple of paparazzi lingering. Probably cause of last night, Tony usually calls up and lets us know to avoid the front doors but I guess they just got here,” he rashly explains, setting over the seat.

He looks good, you can’t deny it, like an action movie star in his element, hand on the bars, shoe propped on the side. There’s a smile growing, jaw moving as he chews and you take a mental picture, a secret memento just for you.

“I’m not getting on your stupid bike,” you sum out, turning away from where he’s gearing it up, sound echoing around the empty garage.

“Either you leave with me, or they take pictures of you and then you’re splashed across front pages, no longer a secret,” he states, and he’s moving the bike slowly alongside as you stubbornly walk back to the garage entrance.

The last statement is made to hit you, remind you that he did do something wrong, both of you did and there’s going to be a price you’ll have to pay.

You give him a look as he smiles, knowing he’s gotten you yet again.

“You’re famous enough for the front pages?” you crack at him and he laughs, shoulders shaking.

“Get on the bike Y/N,” he’s shifting forward, creating space on the back and this can’t be safe but the options are so limited that this is the best you’re going to get.

You swing a leg over, stumbling a little at the shift in gravity before settling onto the seat. It’s weird and he’s turning his head to make sure you’re secure before starting up again.

“Keep your hands on me,” he instructs, but you’re tired of following his rules and fold them cautiously on the sliver of seat in front of you.

It’s a mistake and you realize it as soon as he exits the garage. There’s no one on the street around and he’s gunning the speed, wind pulling your hair back, blowing straight at you.

“Holy shit,” you gasp before grabbing onto his shoulders. His arm twitches slightly as you grip the muscle and you can feel every single movement he does.

It’s a red light when he mumbles to you, “Move your hands lower.”

“Why?” you ask, finally comfortable with the way you’re holding onto him after a few streets of green lights.

“Can’t focus properly on the turns,” he says and you’re a little confused but the lights switching to green and there’s a honk right behind, startling you just a little.

You slide your hands down his back, take pleasure in the way it grounds you as he leans forward, swerving between slower cars.

He moves his back, angles it in one direction and you sort of get the hint, settle your hands on his hips like they do in all the cheesy rom-com movies. But this isn’t a movie, this is real life and there’s rules that aren’t supposed to be broken, consequences to face. The air around you turns sour, hits your throat hard and you’re closing your eyes in an effort to not vomit all over Colson.

It takes a few more minutes and he’s pulling into a barely there parking spot of some hole in the wall diner. You’ve never been here, despite living a few blocks away and you wonder why he’s brought you so close to home when that’s exactly where you should be avoiding.

The engine cuts and then he’s scooting back, your hands immediately lifting from his hips where they’d found a unfamiliar solace for the short drive.

“Think we’ll run into her?” he attempts at a joke and you want to scream, want to remind him this isn’t funny, this is seriously fucked.

“I’m gonna go home if you keep this up,” you grunt out, hopping off of the bike, feet glad to be planted on the floor.

“It’s not that serious,” he murmurs, locking his bike before walking to the entrance. You stare at his retreating back, picture punching the shit out of him, blink it away before following.

“Table for two,” he effortlessly grins, blowing a bubble with the stale gum. The waiter gives him an unimpressed look, picks up the two menus and leads you to a corner booth.

You slide in first, and he slides in right beside you, his side just barely touching your arm. The waiter attempts to smile but it seems halfhearted and you can’t help but stifle a laugh at that.

“Get on the other side. This isn’t a date,” you say after the waiter leaves.

“I like it here. You’re warm,” Colson mumbles, reaching for a menu and your heart thuds in its cavity, begging to be let out.

“Look this can’t happen. You’re my best friend’s ex for gods sake, she’d kill me if she even knew I was talking to you,” you ramble out, finger playing with the frayed edge of the table, unable to look at him.

“What is this?” he says.

When you don’t respond, he huffs before going, “Wonder what’d she do to you if she found out we fucked.”

The waiter pauses right before your table, two waters in his hand. He turns around and you stare at his back, will him to come back to save you this hell you’ve found yourself in.

“Colson I’m serious. Shut the fuck up for two seconds and think about it,” you mutter, voice lower so that the waiter can hopefully head your way again. Your throat feels parched, dust settling against your vocal cords.

“I am being serious. I don’t get why she’d care. She broke up with me, it’s been six fucking months. I thought we both moved on,” he states matter-of-factly, reaching over your hands to grab a sugar packet.

He twists it around on the table, pink packet spinning into a blur as you watch it, wondering what to say next.

“It’s messed up. We shouldn’t even have talked to each other,” you breathe out.

“Well we did. Y/N, you’ve always been my friend first. I wasn’t going to ignore you because Domi wouldn’t like it,” he stops the spinning packet with his palm, flattens it into table.

Your waters appear on the table, two straws tossed next to full cups with a, “Ready to order?”

“Give us a few?” Colson says, voice tilting up at the end posing it as question, confidence dripping into his words. There isn’t an answer but the waiter turns away.

“The only reason I know you is cause of her,” you truthfully respond.

“Doesn’t mean our entire relationship has to be based off of what she wants. She’s not good for you,” he grabs a straw, tearing the wrapper before dropping it into a glass and passing it over to you.

Your head’s still stuck on the word relationship, knows that he doesn’t mean it romantically but the thought of it still lingers.

“You can’t say that,” you mumble in response to his last few words.

“Okay. I can’t. But I can tell you that you deserve a best friend who doesn’t go around cutting off your friends because she doesn’t want to see them anymore,” his statement seems like a final word, laying itself in the open air.

The waiter’s walking back and you quickly order the first thing you see, some blueberry pancake special and pray it isn’t bad. He orders an omelet, customizes it and you listen at the ease of his words, how he sounds like he owns the place while specifying his veggies.

Your menu gets handed back over and you sip at the ice water, try not to gulp it down.

“I’m sorry if that was out of line,” he attempts, but you don’t want to hear it anymore, don’t want to break the train of thought in your head repeating his last phrase.

“Can we just- you know be normal for now?” you ask, voice small compared to his.

“Sure yeah. You like blueberries?” he switches so quick it almost gives you whiplash, even though you asked for it.

His arm’s on the booth cushion behind you head, you can feel it as you go to lean back and it feels too close to a date for comfort.

“No it was just the first thing I saw,” you say without really meaning to.

He laughs at that and you smile too, easing into a neutral state.

“What if it’s gross? You know blueberries can freeze in just four minutes,” he spits out and you feel his leg bump against yours at the fun fact.

“Why do you know that?” you huff, eyes going to watch him speak.

“Read an article once,” he seems awfully pleased with himself and you roll your eyes muttering, “Glad to see you know how to read.”

He nudges you hard at that and you fall deeper into him somehow, find yourself tucked right into his side.

“You weren’t this mean to me last night,” he says pointedly, lifting his glass up.

“I wasn’t hungover last night,” you retort, or addled with guilt your mind adds silently.

“Oh shit, I forgot,” and then he’s ruffling through his pockets mumbling, “I thought I had some Advil in here.”

“No thanks, keep your pocket drugs. I’ll just sleep it off at home,” you say, although the idea of home and Domi just makes you queasy.

Two full plates are gently placed in front of you, steaming and fresh. You eye the purple blue dots on your pancakes suspiciously, hoping the taste isn’t as dark as the mosaic it creates visually.

Colson’s omelette looks incredible, cheese and vibrant red tomatoes popping off the plate and you want to taste it, see if its as good as he made it sound.

“I forgot you don’t get hungover,” you mumble, last few bits of the previous conversation slipping through before you lose yourself in the meal.

“Life of a rockstar,” he laughs out before grabbing his fork.

“Humble rockstar,” you laugh back as he clinks his silverware against yours.

The pancakes taste exactly and how they look and your tastebuds struggle in figuring out a flavor pattern. It’s bursts of sour, before buttery goodness and sugary maple. You demolish an entire pancake before realizing you’re out with a friend.

“You want some?” you mumble, chewing over a bite.

He watches you inquisitively from where he sits, fork dancing over his own plate. You will yourself not to blush under his gaze, almost choke on the piece tucked into your mouth.

He pulls off a piece, bites into it and you see his face twist up as he goes, “What is that?”

“Probably frozen blueberries,” you reply and his eyes light up at the recalling of his words as he swallows down the pancake.

“Terrible,” he mumbles, sipping on the dark coffee he’s ordered.

Colson’s a coffee freak, particular about the sugar levels, the amount of ice that goes into his drink, even the origin of the coffee beans. You’d learned this early on as he refused to participate in Starbuck runs, grunted in distaste when you would show up at his apartment, carrying a frappe, Domi sipping happily at her own.

The food finishes quick, you’ve taken bites of his omelette, trying not to praise the medley of flavors he’s somehow incorporated into an egg. He hasn’t cooked it of course, but you would never be able to combine options to come up with this type of breakfast.

He reluctantly finishes your last pancake, dousing it in syrup and making faces with every bite, mostly to make you laugh. His fingers are sticky and he lets them slide together before pulling them apart, string of maple connecting them, his eyebrows raising smirkingly towards you. You push him hard at the innuendo.

The bill comes around and goes back faster than you can react. He pays it quickly and quietly, not even letting you attempt at it. There’s a slight rush that overcomes you at that, you’ve always know he was generous, but this is different from late night McDonalds with the bros, slightly more personal.

He gets up to wash his hands after the mess he’s created and you shake your head at the pure stickiness of his hand as he walks away.

You pull your phone out, knowing you’ll regret it as soon as you catch sight of the time. You’ve been here with Colson for over an hour.

They flow of text messages from your roommate vary in subject, but near the end there’s no emojis, capital letters reflecting back at you and you know she’s mad, can feel it rolling off the screen. This is going to a bitch to hide.

“You should unblock my number while you have it out,” Colson suggests, voice startling you.

“Should I?” you wonder, more to hear it out loud to yourself than actually ask him.

He shrugs but his intentions are clear as he says, “Wouldn’t hurt now, would it?”

“What would you even text me?” you quiz this time, pointer finger tapping at the sides of your phone.

“Don’t know. Cool things. Fun facts,” he rattles off as if he’s creating a shoddy list in his head.

“Convincing,” you laugh before going to your settings. The blocked numbers stare up at you, at least five of them on that list unfairly.

You find his, the first one blocked all the way at the bottom and swipe.

Unblock? your phone asks, as if knowing you’re having trouble with this decision, second thoughts about something as trivial as a phone number.

Yes, you tap and then the list decreases automatically.

“Done,” you say, putting your phone back into your pocket.

“Good,” he hums before offering you his hand.

You take it, weirdly knowing this is the last time you will. He lets your intertwined fingers fall between the two of you, swings them just a little, hitting them against your legs as if he’s just as aware of the finality of it all too.

You take a breath, walk towards the exit. The doors open and you both step out, get down the steps and towards his bike.

You drop his hand first, look up at him, whisper, “I’m going to walk home.”

He doesn’t protest, you can’t tell if he wants to, but you secretly hope he does, in some twisted selfish way.

“Okay,” is all you get back from him and then he’s getting on his bike.

You don’t look back as his engine roars to life, or when you hear the telltale zoom of him speeding away. You feel sick, but remind yourself to keep walking, put as much distance between this mistake as you can.

Your heart aches at the word mistake, cracks the minute you can’t hear the motorcycle anymore, too far gone to even be white noise for your walk of shame home. This has to happen, you remind yourself, staring at the gum stains on the sidewalk. You’re going to be fine.

-

taglist:  @iamdorka @no-shxt-sherl @bakerkells @findingmyths @rosegoldrichie​ @mayaslifeinabox​ @itjustkindahappenedreally @hnbtx @backoftheroomandnotbelonging​ @sophroniaa​ @enchantedamusedslightlyconfused​ @calum-defense-squad

[trillian-anders]

true love

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: fluff && smut, bucky being a cheeky little shit and soft boy

word count: 2.7k

description: stripper au; bucky is a tease and honestly just such a gooey romantic. just a little snapshot. 

A strip club before hours. Inside you’d find the dancers stretching, practicing new routines and a loop of the same song over and over again until they were satisfied or being forced to move onto something else. The servers are wiping down tables, setting up for bachelorette parties and straightening the chairs around the main stage. The host was cleaning the mirrors and the front door with Windex, knowing that they would just be covered with prints from hands and fingers an hour into the night.

The bar was being stocked, backup bottles. Fruit was being cut and sangria being prepped. Gallons of it. The clientele loved sangria. The cocktail of the night, special for the bride to be prepped for the bachelorette party, paid for in advance by the bottle. A sugar bomb of midori sour and vodka, cherries and club soda. Neon green and toxic, it made you gag just mixing it together.

It was the same thing every night. Another bachelorette party, another batch mixed drink, another stack of ones ready to be switched out for bigger bills the clients needed to break in order to stuff those dollar bills in the g-string of one of the many handsome performers that would take the stage tonight.

A destination strip club under the same corporation that owned Magic Mike, just on the east coast. It would be busy. But you and the other three bartenders were ready, the money was good here. Too good for you to ever consider leaving. And since the clientele was made in its entirety women and gay men, you felt safe working there. No sleazy guy on his sixth bud lite wanting to grab your ass as you cleaned up after his spilled beer. Granted some of the clients were still hellish, but you’d take not getting groped over being sexually harassed by bar patrons any day.

The lights would drop low soon, music pumping through the speakers as the DJ finishes setting up his booth. The endless grind from 8pm to 3am that would leave you ready for some diner food and bed.

“Boys!” You call, “What do you want?” Allowed a start of work drink, you called to the men standing on the stage.

“Anything you wanna give me sugar.” You glare at the first man to respond, his cheeky grin knowing how much you hated it when he called you sugar, how patronizing.

“Okay, everyone but Bucky,” You laugh, “What do you want?” The man in question slipping off the stage to walk over and help distribute shots.

“Why are you always so mean to me?” Pouting and arms crossed on the bar. You roll your eyes pouring the requests of green tea shots across the board. And an extra-large one for you and your favorite performer.

“Why are you always so annoying?” A rebuttal. But he loved it. He always does. Your shot glass clinking against his, tapping on the bar top and shot back in two.

“I love you.” He hums, stealing a kiss. The tip of his tongue brushing your bottom lip softly before pulling away and setting his shot glass in yours.

“I love you too.” A shared grin. “Have fun tonight.”

“Oh I will.” He’s cheeky, but it’s a part of him that you found so endearing.

A story you’re sure you’d tell the grandkids, how you met him in the first place. Back when you first started working here. He’d already been performing for a while. Back when you were waiting tables and having to deal with the sloppy drunk clients without a buffer of service bar in between.

Truly romantic how he’d been grinding himself against a woman in a bridal sash and giving you the same cheeky grin that he gives you now. You watched him grip himself through the silk thong and tripped and spilled your tray over a table and all the clients sitting there. An order to go get some air and you cried in the alley behind the building thinking that you were going to get fired and when his set was finished he came looking for you.

“They’re not going to fire you,” He soothed, pulling you into his arms, “You’re gonna be just fine.” You choked out nasty sobs into his chest, the thin zip hoodie he was wearing doing nothing to disguise the firm bare flesh underneath, you maybe pretended to have the need to be held a little longer than you actually did.

That incident was something he carefully held over your head to this day, a funny jab, especially after a night of seeing stars and loud moans. The paint chipped and wall worn where the headboard slammed into it. He wouldn’t paint over it as a matter of pride. A story of his sexual prowess and ability to bend you in half and make you cum so hard that you blackout or cry split on his dick.

He’d convinced you to go back into the club after you calmed down, he bought you a drink after the shift had ended, and then ate you out on his couch after you’d had pancakes at the diner below his apartment. And you’d been in love ever since.

That sick, ooey-gooey, no you hang up kind of love.

“You guys are so gross.” Nat bumped her hip against yours, grabbing the remaining shot glasses and sitting them in the dishwasher. You laugh.

The night began with body paint and blacklights. A steady pump of bass as each performer took the stage, they made their rounds around the room. Back curtains closing for private dances. The bar was full and service bar was popping, the tickets endless. The tip jar stuffed full. A good night. As bachelorette parties often were. They would take up a nice little section, the rest of the walk-ins and birthday parties, etc. taking up the rest of the space.

You could feel his eyes on you, the little games he liked to play at work. He knew you would look at him. The way he danced on stage, sinking down to let someone stick a dollar on his hip. The way he grabbed himself to the squeals of women.

The fucking tease, tugging his lip and meeting your eye. A playful smirk. Watching you shake a drink.

The first time he played this game was the day after he made you cum on his tongue, then his fingers, then his cock. Twice. As you wait tables, he would give you that little smirk, the grind of his hips, a brush against you as you walked around him with your tray. A playful tug on your skirt.

It would end with his back on the wood floor of his apartment, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise while you rode yourself to orgasm. Knees red and sore. And continue after eating a snack on his kitchen floor, your back now on the linoleum and your knees pressed to your chest while you dug your fingernails into his biceps and down his back. Something hastily fixed with concealer for his next performance.

Your friends outside of work didn’t quite understand how you could deal. “How could you be okay with him grinding himself over other people all night?” But you knew one thing more than anything else,

Bucky Barnes was such a simp.

He fucking loved you. And you knew it. He would never let you forget it. Bucky Barnes was the most affectionate, needy, clingy, I would die for you and all you have to do is ask kind of guy. He was the kind of guy to tell you that he missed you when you just went to the store. The kind of guy that would hop in the shower with you just because he wanted to wash your hair.

“I’m not worried.” You would laugh, “Not in the slightest.” And you knew you didn’t have to be. If the way he would hop up on your bar and tug on your hair mid dance was anything to say, him stuffing bills into your bra while you let a girl do a body shot out of his belly button. You didn’t care as much as those dollars and groping hands on his thick thighs you loved to ride would be paying your rent later.

These clients may be groping him now, but later on it’s your thighs that his head will be between.

It’s their money that will be sitting on your living room floor while both of you unwrinkled the freshly washed money. Their money you would use to buy groceries and pay for your portion of the family vacation you were going on in a few months with the Barnes clan.

The shift ends and you’re left cleaning up. With three other pairs of hands it’s quick work, but burning the ice takes a minute, long enough for Bucky to already be sitting down in front of the bar and sorting your tips out for you, sipping on an after shift drink the two of you were sharing.

“We going to Norma’s?” As the other men sunk down behind the bar, a few waving their goodbyes on their way out the door.

“Sam.” Bucky looked at his friend, “We go to Norma’s every night and every night you ask if we are going.”

“It’s because he likes that waitress.” Nat grinned, flipping the dishwasher on to run the bar mats. A glare from Sam,

“I love that waitress.” The bumbling idiot fawned over her and always tipped her $50 on his $8 patty melt. A shared laugh,

“You’ve asked her out, how many times now?” Steve, thankful for the leftover sangria in front of him, took a sip.

“Just like four, five maybe.” Bucky lifted the pint glass, salt lining the rim and a few granules left on his bottom lip. “This margarita is good sweetheart.” A recipe you found online, something new you’d wanted to try. You hum, taking a sip and nodding. “She doesn’t like you.” Directed at Sam. “You need to stop making her job so difficult, you’re a creep.”

“Am I a creep?” Sam looks between you and Nat. The two of you sharing a look and nodding.

“No one wants to get hit on while they’re working.” You laugh, “That’s all.” He huffs, leaning against the back of the bar stool.

“You guys got any of that neon shit left?” The last little bit of the bachelorette slosh at the bottom of the Cambro. Poured in a glass for him with an apologetic smile.

“I already burned the ice.” He muscled it down.

Bucky’s hand in your back pocket with you tucked into his side you entered the familiar diner and slipped into your usual booth, a playful squeeze to your ass before you sunk down next to each other. Sam, Nat, and Steve across.

His hand settles on your thigh as the waitress Sam was in love with brought over two pitchers of water and glasses, more to make her job easier because these boys were thirsty at the end of the night after performing for hours on end.

A minute later she’d return with a couple sodas and take the order. Sam looking dutifully down at his phone and trying to avoid her eyes.

“You can act like a normal person.” You laugh, our leg going across Bucky’s thigh. “You’re acting like even more of a weirdo.”

“Just relax.” Nat’s hand smoothed over Sam’s arm and he lets out a deep breath. “Don’t be weird.” Easier said than done, he took the fact that you told him not to flirt with her as erasing his whole personality.

“You’ve ruined him.” Steve sipped his water, “The both of you.” A pout to stern Dad-Steve, and he rolled his eyes with a smirk, leaning against the booth and throwing an arm over the back. “He’ll never be able to perform again.”

“Fuck all of you.” Sam glared as peals of laughter broke out at the table. A shift as you felt Bucky’s fingers play with the hem of your shorts. Dipping under a little bit. Your hand slips down and grabs his, pulling his hand away with a playful glare.

“Stop.” Whispered between you as Sam pretended to cry and Nat seemed about done with it.

“I wanna play.” A kiss on your lips. You shake your head and roll your eyes, directing your attention back to your friends.

“Later.”

Later would find him on his back lips red bitten and swollen from kissing as you yank his jeans down his legs, leaving him in just his briefs, the hard outline of his cock pressing against them. Your shorts and panties tugged down your legs, crawling over him to hover over his face. His arms wrapping around your thighs and bringing you down to his mouth.

The grind of your hips on his tongue and the rough stubble burning your thighs. Those moans vibrating against your clit, panting moans coming from your mouth as you grip the headboard and find the friction your need to cum. Working out your aftershocks on his tongue.

A shift of position would find your back against the mattress, your legs over his arms and hooked into his elbows, the blunt head of his cock circling your entrance with the teasing roll of his hips. His mouth against yours, sucking on your tongue and tugging your bottom lip between his teeth.

He starts off slow. A gasp into his mouth as he bottoms out, the tip of him brushing your cervix before he pulls almost all the way out, playing with short and fast thrusts against your g-spot. This was his major source of pride, having you drooling and stupid with lust under him, eyes rolling and nails digging into his back, clawing at his biceps, twisted in the sheets by your head while he rolls one of your nipples on his tongue.

The headboard slamming as you gush around his cock, the signal he needs to start thrusting in deeper to chase his own pleasure. Leaning back onto his heels and pressing your legs together, wrapping his arm around them and laying a kiss to your ankle. His red mouth panting as his hips slapped against yours. Your fingers dipping between your bodies to slap against your clit a couple times, the pleasure being too much. He pushes your hand out of the way, hand laying over your mons and thumb pressing against your clit, moving in tight circles.

“So fucking good for me baby.” A pant against your calf. “One more.” A groan, “Just one more.” You sob from the over-sensitivity as he brought you to one more orgasm, the towel laid out on the bed being put to good use as you squirt on his cock. His hips not relenting until you feel him cum, your legs shaking on his shoulders.

A kiss to your ankles. His hands massaging your legs as you come down. He lays himself on top of you, shifting your legs to wrap around his waist as he meets your lips once, twice, soft, “I love you.” And then with his head on your chest. You reason in that moment, and in every moment, that he was the best thing that ever happened to you.

Finding the club was the best thing that ever happened to you.

“You’re just so handsome.” Your hand on your fist, resting your elbow on the table, looking at him in admiration.

He grins around the lip of his coffee cup and softly massages your foot that was in his lap. The morning found you in the same diner as the night previous, enjoying what would be lunch for other people, but breakfast for the two of you.

“You’re just so beautiful.” His hand meeting yours on the table, a soft squeeze. “I love you.” Bringing his hand to your lips,

“I love you too.”

[rangergranger11]

Headcanons (I promise these won’t make you cry)

Ok so on @eatyourdamnpears post there were a lot of headcanons, and I decided to put them all in one post, but just bear in mind, half of this is credit to @thedarkestcrew cuz she did some amazing HCs, and I’m by no means stealing hers, just putting it all in a better place.

- Liam sends packages to Ruby because he can't make a fool out of himself in person so it's the next best thing. 

-These packages include things like hand writing notes, stuffed animals, any ruby jewellery he finds, pictures of them on dates that he printed (he has matching pictures and keeps them under his bed)( Cole and Harry find them but it's too cute to tease him), and finally, videos to make her laugh

- He also keeps a menu from Ruby Tuesday, and LOADS of old CDs and rock band t shirts

-Cole and him borrow each others jackets all the time and it's not a problem because they live in the same house and they can just go over to the room next door, 

-But when ruby starts stealing Liam’s jackets that he stole from Cole? well now the Stewart house is missing 10 leather jackets and you can't just get them form the girl who lives a state away. So she has to send them back in the mail,

-keeps a few that smell like Liam because she can

-sometimes people are confused which Stewart brother Ruby is really dating. And the fact that they look like twins it adds to the confusion, and the Ruby and Cole literally love to watch people get so mixed up

-oh absolutely, they’ll walk in on ruby and Liam making out, but two second later see Cole smoothing Down her hair and calling her Gem, AND seeing her he friendly with Chubs and cleaning his glasses because her skirt has better fabric for it, AND seeing her joke around with Nico

-it becomes a bet to see who she's with

-Liam will give Ruby his jacket, but than Cole comes and notices it's his jacket and makes a joke about them dating, she just gives him the jacket because she'd rather wear lee'. bystanders are distraught

-  And then Clancy comes along and brags about how he kissed Ruby and then the people who bet are just like 'where. the. hell. did. clancy. frickin. gray. come. from???

-Ruby thinks most of the rumours are funny and will be really vague about who her boyfriend is. most of the time just seeing Ruby and Liam together will be enough for people to figure it out by how the are relaxed around each other and look lovingly at the other.

-But when she hears the Clancy rumour she shuts that down faster than Charles scarfs Down a pancake

- Also, Liam's mum and Harry have an ongoing bet about who Ruby is actually dating because it's just so confusing at this point. Grace is like 'are you blind???' and Harry Is like 'there's something with Cole, I swear!!' But eventually realised its Liam and gives in

- Grace thinks she’s dating Cole, because when she visited she hugged Cole first and than a minute later hugged Liam. Yes, she went out to the park with Liam but grace doesn't know that, also she spend 20 minutes in Coles room chatting. She thinks Liam just has a crush on her or something 

- Ruby's parents can't tell them apart for anything and made a rule of " announce who you are before talking" after Liam kissed Ruby on the cheek and her mom thought that was the same person who told someone to go-F themselves ten minutes ago and nearly faints. It takes them a while the even figure out there are two blond southern men that flirt with their daughter

 -Grace is always giving Liam encouraging mom advice like, 'there are always others' and 'you'll get there someday' and Liam is just like 'thanks, mom'

-Ruby's dad is just so tired of confusing Liam and Cole, he's like 'Stewart sr' and 'Stewart jr.' He tried to call them 'Ruby's boyfriend' and Ruby's friend, but Cole answered to both just for the fun of it

-Chubs does not think it's funny at all and spits out what he's drinking when he sees Cole look when her dad says ' Ruby's boyfriend'. almost strangles Ruby until he hears about it. 

-Vida thinks it's really funny but event breaks and tells everyone it's a joke the day after. she doesn't know how many more times she can see Liam pouting

-After the Cole fiasco is over. his parents wait about a week and try to get Liam with Ruby. it's a bunch of prep talks, buying new clothes, telling him how to not mess up. when the big date comes her kisses her as a hello and they feel betrayed

-When ruby’s dad says the jr, sr thing he has Harry looking too and now he just needs to have ruby in the room with him, whoever’s face gets softer Is Liam, the one who stands up to tease her about something is Cole

-One day they talk about it and their 70 percent sure it’s Cole because they think he’s more her type while Liam would be good for her. Anyways they see her making out with Liam and are shocked and think she’s cheating on Cole.

-Harry had to sit Cole down and explain that Ruby isn’t faithful and Cole is absolutely loving it. He’s eating it all up, goes along with it, calls ruby in-front of him and ‘breaks up with her’, she also thinks it’s hilarious because for crying out loud it’s been a few month into the new program and why not see how long they can keep going. I swear they have a whole plot on how they met, what line made them fall in love the, whole 9 yards. 

-Grams knows of course because she pulled her aside and threatened her to date Liam because he’s the poster ’ nice southern boy’. Liam does not enjoy his girl friend pretending to date his brother but she throws enough Liam flirting into the mix to make it even.

- when Cole ‘breaks up’ with her, they have a fully fledged fake argument, like ‘remember that time when we got ice cream and you told me you told me you loved me’ and ‘you never loved me!!’ And for Ruby this is easy, because let’s face it Ruby is a grade A liar (in a good way) and Cole should be a 5 star actor because he is so damn dramatic. 

-Harry is totally buying this, and in the end they confess to their parents that Ruby + Cole was never a thing, and Liam is just looking at his mum like ‘SEE, I TOLD YOU I WASN’T A TOTAL LOSER’ and poor Grace just bakes a bunch of things just to make it up to him, and they all have a laugh about it. 

-But it was getting to the point where Ruby’s parents asked Zu which one she was dating and she was like ‘I am not getting involves in this.’ and Cole is just giving her a discreet thumbs up for playing her part while she just rolls her eyes.

-Oh absolutely they get into it, everyone who knows their lying get popcorn and treat it like its a movie. Cole says something absolutely ridiculous like “ you can take my heart, and my dignity, but I’m taking back the popcorn I gave you that one time” and Ruby has to use all of her enegery to not burst out laughing. 

-Ruby can also fake cry quickly so she’s sobbing, and by the end schools her face within a second and wipes away to tears Cooly. Ruby’s mom can’t trust her after that. also still kinda doesnt belive she’s dating anyone because of the Cole thing. Liam comes over 5 times before she’s convinced that this isn’t another prank. Ruby tells her she’s going on a date Saturday and says “ ha ya alright I’m not falling for that again” and than on saturday spends 6 minutes looking around the house for her before calling her and realizing that she wasent kidding

-Vida definitely films the whole thing like it's some telenovela, while Chubs is rolling her eyes at her but Zu secretly loves the drama and her stupid family. And Rubiam parents mention this at their wedding as well like, Ruby's dad would be doing a speech 'today we are gathered for the union of my daughter and Cole- Liam, i meant Liam. Its definitely Liam. Right Ruby??'

-Cole shows up to Haven for a visit about to yell at Liam and Ruby for not inviting him sooner after Harry and Grace let the location slip

( I know cole being dead is one of the things that sparked haven being made on liams part, but let's just say the spark for haven was Ruby getting harassed and Liam not being able to see her like that and asking her to run away with him to the middle of no where. Good? Great)

-Cole is about to walk through the door before a kid puts a frog in his hand and another kid asks if he can beat the level on his game boy.

-he thinks it's really adorable and the kids start calling him Liam for a Few minutes so why not,

-anyways he sneezes in a lone hallway and lights something small on fire before quickly putting it out.

-Owen is coming out of his room but sees the panic in Coles eyes and says ' hey, I'm not one to judge' and walks back into his room.

-When Ruby gets home she stops and stares at him for a full minute like " that's..... not Liam????"

-he calls her gem and she can't decide between jumping a hug onto him or punching him.

-Liam gets home and the kids all do a double take like ' you changed shirts??? can got a hair cut????' before doing a double take between the two

-Loads of the kids gather around and start making daisy chains for Cole’s hair, and he freaking loves it.

-He’s surprisingly good with kids as they all hover around him asking questions, holding his hand and showing him random things and it warms Ruby’s heart so much

Again, credit to @thedarkestcrew for thinking all of this, and this post has been fun 

[gaylien51]

So this is the first chapter of my story. I’m a beginner writer so if you have any advice feel free to share.

Baron Draxum watched all his precious work go down in flames. The heat overwhelmingly and the fire still roaring. CRASH! Another part of the roof collapsed bringing even more damage. He cursed his now forever enemy Hamato Yoshi. As he begun to walk away from the ruins of his previous lab he thinks of how his lab was destroyed.A prisoner of big mama that he had his loyal gargoyles bring to him for his highly anticipated experiment of creating the perfect soldiers to rain hell upon the vile humans that lived above. The experiment consisted of 4 turtles, a red eared slider turtle, a snapping turtle, a soft shell turtle, and a box turtle. He looked down in his hands to see a small box turtle, the last of his experiments. “ You shall become the perfect soldier, the perfect success, you will be the downfall of humans, the rein of pure terror as everyone kneels down to our almighty power!” Achoo! He looked down at the box turtle in disgust. Ugh germs- and from a mutant turtle no less. He felt pressure on his fingers as he looked down to see the experiment nuzzle into his hands happily cooing and smiling at him. “There is much much much work to be done little one” he expressed with tiredness in his voice.

“ Uhhhh sir, no offense but your mortal enemy who you called us to capture because of his awesome fighting skills, ninjutsu and all that, has destroyed your lab place, burned it down to the ground, escaped with the 3 other turtles, and is most likely mutated into a rat and will raise the 3 other turtles if they survived, and will most likely prep himself over the years to come and fight you, has completely and utterly destroyed your work, soooooooooo where we living?”. Baron looked at the gargoyle on his shoulder (which he solemnly forgot about) and wore a frustrated and pinched expression as he explained the obvious. The other gargoyle on his shoulder also looked at him waiting for an answer to their question. Frustrated, tired,angry, and annoyed Baron Draxum argued in his head if he should kill them for their very annoying existence. “ We will rebuild our laboratory starting from the ground up and prepare experiment 42005 for his long and successful journey of destroying the humans!” He answered with determination. “ As for now we will visit the yokai city and remain there for the time being” he added. Both gargoyle looked at him and shrugged satisfied with the answers. “ hey as long as me and Muninn have a place to stay we’re a-okay with your plan boss man!” replied the gargoyle on his left shoulder. “ what huginn said!” Munnin, the gargoyle on his right shoulder said.

So Baron Draxum, Munnin, Huginn, and the experiment 42005 began their trek to yokai city and onwards to their journey of the destruction of the humans.

CRASH! Baron hurried out of bed and into his kitchen to see his experiment trying to cook breakfast for himself. Tiredness dripped in his voice as he asked “ Little one when I said you must learn survival skills such as cooking, I did not mean to make a mess of the kitchen” his racing heart calmed seeing his son on the counter unharmed but dirty with flour all over his clothes. Which was also on the counters and tables- and how did pancake mix get on the ceiling? All over the kitchen causing quite a mess.

“ I’m sorry da- I mean sir, I was trying to create a acceptable meal for us today but it didn’t go over quite well” replied his son with disappointment and frustration. “ Just make sure to clean this up and meet me in the lab for your training... we will eat cereal so you may have your breakfast”. Internally experiment 42005 groaned at just the thought of eating bland boring old nutritional rations that his dad called cereal. As his dad continued to walk away from him he quickly and expertly cleaned up his mess frustrated at his failed attempt at cooking. Usually he was quite good at this and created the best meals with whatever was stocked in the pantry but his mind was distracted with thoughts of what he’ll do today and this resulted in the mess before him. But he decided to not think too hard about it and stored those thoughts away and quickly finished up. He ran to the lab through the dark and creepy decaying hallways all colored the same dull gray and rusted. He then saw his dad and the left out “cereal” for him and proceeded to make his way to the table with the laid out food and sit and eat it hurriedly. His father in the background working on many technologies to improve their home and for his patrols.

“42005 today is your 13th birthday” his father said suddenly. 42005 stood up from his chair standing tall and proud as he’s always done since he can remember. “As you know I have been preparing you since birth to destroy the vile humans that live up above, the disgusting creatures who forced us down here into yokai city, making us soft, and stealing the surface from us, and- yadda yadda yadda I know dad you’ve been saying this since my birth!” Interrupted his son. Looking at him with a disgruntled expression he stared into his sons eyes as his son stared back. “Ha you blinked! I win” his son said with smug. “ENOUGH!, experiment 42005 you will listen to me! You know I hate interruptions!”. His son cowered a bit internally but did not show it out of fear for punishment. “ Yes sir, I apologize “ he said solemnly. Satisfied with his answer he continued on his rant about vile human as his son mentally bored with the same discussion hes heard again and again and waited for him to finish. “And that is why human are disgusting and you will go on to destroy the- Are you listening to me?!l he yelled. Startling his son out of his short nap. He sighed with dissatisfaction and drag his hand over his face. “ Proceed to training with Munnin and Huginn and the foot bots, later today we shall proceed with your far more intense training and then patrol will happen is that understood?”. 42005 flinched very subtly at the mention of the clan but replied yes and proceeded to go train. The training room was a stimulation his father made that can produce whatever needed. 42005 chose footbots this time as some early practice while waiting for Munnin and Huginn. He tried desperately to bury himself in his training tearing foot bot after foot boy apart with his mystic kusari fundo the fire ball shrieking wildly as their enemies were torn apart. He had started to train with the foot clan when he was 4 and learned quickly how cruel they were. Every mistake he made he was punished for severely. His scars aches just thinking of it. Burning, drowning, poisoned , whipped, and many other methods of torture he had to induce upon people or else he would be punished instead. They told him this was the way of the clan and that it was effective for enemies.They silenced him quickly with threats to not tell his father unless he wanted even more punishments. At age 4 42005 learned what the word discipline truly meant and when to enforce silence. He grew to be one of the most notorious assassins out there a product of the foot clan and his father. He was a cold blooded thirsty terrifying killers known as the fire akuma, the devil, the bringer of death, and many other names. All at the cost of his innocence. At age 8 his father found out about the horrible punishments after hearing the excuse one too many times he was hurt from patrol and training. His father accepted it too busy with projects and destroying humans to pay attention to him. Once he learned of the horrors being done to his creation he rained hell upon the foot and promised 42005 that no one shall ever harm him again. He started paying more attention to his experiment from then on making sure nothing tainted his creation. As time went they grew closer and acted more as father and son although Baron would never admit it as he was too prideful. Baron always felt guilty for his trauma and did his best to help him with it. Although he still had plenty nightmares from the screams he heard and bones being crushed and throats be big split- he was getting far too much in his thoughts. Baron never did explain why he allied with the foot - he never explained many things but 42005 learned to not question it. His father was still very guarded hence why he was never named an actual name instead of numbers.

SWOOSH! Oh right he was training! 42005 lassoed the foot bot who threw kunai at him and threw him at the wall effectively making him short circuit with his neck being twisted at an awkward angle. He proceeded to the next foot bit and threw his fiery friend into the foot not making an effective burning hole. As he continued on with his training his father watched him through the screen at his work station satisfied and proud of his son with what he was seeing. A few hours later 42005 had created and effective pile of destroyed bots and was panting heavily. Baron called for his son over the intercom that connected to the speaker within the stimulation room. Once 42005 came he stood in front of his father waiting for instructions as his patrol would begin soon.

“42005, you have done remarkably well since I have raised you and have succeeded my expectations, you will be sure to wipe out the human race and bring hope for us Yokai and mutants alike to rule the surface, and I am... p-“. Baron coughed on trying to swallow his ego and pride. “ what was that pop?! We’re you going to say-YES LETME FINISH, I just need a second”. 42005 looked smudged and excited staring at Baron who somehow managed to swallow his ego and proceeded with his original saying. “ Yes 42005 I am p-proud of you and I know for certain I can call you my s-son. For your birthday I gift you this and give you your name... Michelangelo” baron heaved a sigh of relief as Mickey squealed and jumped all over. His father had promised him when he was 8 that when he exceeded his expectations of him he would finally give him a name and 42005 or we’ll Mickey hadn’t let him forget since. It was a true sign of parental love and trust. Baron had struggled to do this for so long because he didn’t want to get attached to an experiment that could still fail and he might need to replace even if he started from scratch again. In truth he chose the name Mickey because he read about a renaissance artist once who was named Michelangelo and was highly successful. As Mickey grew up he promised great strength and ambition as well as intelligence but not in the way you think.

You see Mickey has ADHD which caused him to have trouble paying attention during lessons his father was teaching more focused on what to draw and having multiple thoughts in his head. He also constantly had to be doing something wether it was tapping his feet or humming a tune he heard or other things. This quickly annoyed his father as he didn’t know why Mickey was like this and at first assumed it was because he had a lot of energy since he was a child but it continued to happen as he grew up and then mood swings started to appear a lot more. So Baron decided he should look into it more and see what was wrong and found mickeys symptoms to match most of the adhd symptoms. He asked Mickey later that day why he had trouble paying attention and why he was so impulsive and as his son explained he concluded that he had ADHD. He felt guilty for yelling at his son so many times over something he couldn’t control and never asked why he did what he did. He looked up herbal teas and created many medications similar to those used for humans but instead for a growing teenage mutant turtle boy. Of course this didn’t cure his adhd and he’ll always have it but over the years they’ve learned to manage it and what medicines did and didn’t work. But because Mickey had adhd he had to find other ways to do things other solutions. This caused him to memorize skills and cooking and other acedmic stuff in several ways for example most things were labeled around their home and Mikey used lists in order to keep track of things. Once he got a phone he also put reminders on there and his father would also him remind him of his tasks. Growing up Mikey also had special interests such as games, technology, reading but mostly comic books, cooking, and creating art. His father encouraged his behavior as it helped for him to gain confidence and he was able to use it to his advantage in training and fighting. But when Mikey was with the foot clan he was mocked for his habits and drawings. They would tear up his drawings in front of him and beat him when he couldn’t pay attention or he was stimming. This caused him to have low self esteem and ptsd. His father was a busy man selling his creations and do in g business deals among the yokai city so often times he neglected Mikey. Mikey was angry at him for this and this caused a rift between him and his dad he was afraid and scared and needed his dad but didn’t want his dad to find out about the abuse. This left him confused angry and frustrated as well as draxum as he was emotionally stunted. Wanting to know why his son was acting this way he visited the foot clan without telling them and saw Mikey being cut and beaten in a fight as they yelled horrible words at him. This sent him in a rage destroying everything in his path and getting his son out of there. Once in the safety of their home Mikey spilled about everything like an overflowing sink as he kept crying as well. Baron unsure of what to do simply held his son tighter and listened. Once this happened his father became more protective of him but also trained him more to fight back against harmful people and they continued to repair their relationship.

“-ickey, Mickey, MICKEY!” Yelled his father. He rose to attention still full of energy but stood straight waiting for instructions . His father looked at him with his classic I- love-you-so-much-but-your-gonna-be-the-death-of-me look . “It is time to start your patrol, your task today is to find the needed chemicals I sent to your phone to create more mutagen for my oozesquitoes, stay safe out there my son” Draxum patted mikeys head with slight fondness and Mikey beamed at him. He then hurriedly made his way out of his home and towards yokai city. He snuck into a nearby alleyway and drew the symbol for the portal going through quickly to the surface world. He checked his black utility belt for all his weapons. “ I have my kunai, my shuriken, my tento, my kusari fundo, my protein bars -ughhhhhh, my sketchbook, pencil, yup! I think I have everything!” Mikey exclaimed. He skated rooftop from rooftop heading towards the old abandoned factory filled with chemicals his dad usually made him get for his experiments. He was wearing a black hoodie and mask that showed a wide grin of sharp teeth and his skateboard full with stickers that consisted of smiley faces, graffiti words, neon signs, gaming brands, etc. Patrols weren’t necessarily patrols more of errand runs for the human world unless it was an assassination for a human who wronged a fellow yokai. As much as his dad hated humans he worked with the ones from the foot clan for yet untold reasons and had Mikey assassinate humans who were especially evil. The foot clan had also messed that up for him taking away his in once when they started executing innocent people who wronged them and made him watch and kill them. He shuddered at the reminder and of things that still haunt his nightmares and shook his head to be clear of the horrific thoughts. As he jumped from the next rooftop he hears chatter that gets louder and ducks down on a balcony to spy on whoever’s coming his way. There he sees WHAT!?!? 3 OTHER MUTANT TURTLES dad said I was the only one, the only mutant turtle who was trained to be an assassin. Are they even assassins?!? What’s going on? Mikey thought.

Mikey can get angry and sadistic . Can be downright cruel and unforgiving. Can kill someone quick and merciless. He’s a soldier, an assassin, a demon if you will. His names is feared within the Yokai community despite not being a yokai. But that’s to be expected of Baron Draxums son. He’s proud of it and it certainly helps that his dad praises him for it. He’s a turtle or we’ll a mutant turtle ,created to be the perfect experiment. The only mutant turtle in the world. So why the hell does he see 3 other mutant turtles on a rooftop during his patrol?! Unless... No! They couldn’t be! Dad said they had died in the fire! They are dead...right? Or maybe someone stole dads work and mutated 3 other turtles for their own benefit? Or something??? Ughhhhhhh!

Mikey then peered up from the balcony to spy again as he saw the 3 mutant turtles talking amongst themselves and a ...human!!! Aren’t all Yokai supposed to hate humans?! This night just keeps getting confusing! Mikey then decided to look up again and as he shifted around he forget about the skateboard next to him

CRACK!!

The skateboard had fallen of the balcony and broke in two over a dumpster. Mikey froze as his breath was taken away. Slowly he looked up, only to find the turtles gone?

“ Huh? Where’d they go” Mikey climbed onto the rooftop confused and a bit hesitant And then heard some shuffling behind him. He quickly grabbed a Kunai and held it up to one of the turtles neck

“Uhhhh hi? Nice dagger you got there” Mikey stared fiercely at the turtle ready to kill if necessary.

[haikyall]

time signature

AO3

ayoo~ this is for sonderdaisies in instagram and discord! Here’s your prompt in my entry for @bnhagiftexchange WC: 4.7K

Pairings: Hawks & Miruko (Keigo Takami & Rumi Usagiyama) AU/Prompt: Musician AU, 

Summary: Music brings people together, even if you see each other at work... and live across the street from one another

Three hours. It has been three hours since Rumi has started looking for her portfolio. That portfolio had the pieces she wanted to present to her leader when they start rehearsal tomorrow. That portfolio could bring her career to new heights. That portfolio could get her a promotion. The portfolio is missing. 

Her house is already a mess because of trying to flip it upside down just to look for that flimsy clear book. She hates the fact that she is forgetful and things like this happen on the daily basis. 

Maybe it’s under the bed— you already checked the bed— how about one more ti— you checked it five times already. Inside the couch? You can’t rip open your couch, Rumi. I can watch me. Okay, where are you going to get a new one? Fuck where is it? I swear I won’t be able to practice tonight without those.

She knows it’s not at the rehearsal studio, she remembers putting it in her envelope… where is her envelope? Rumi suddenly has the motivation to look for something else. Did I leave it at the studio?!?!

Her frustration gets the better of her and she starts to aggressively look for the clear envelope. She gets more annoyed as more time passes and she hasn’t found the thing yet. Her annoyed self got more pissed to know the fact that it was ten in the night. She annoyingly grunts and then she hears it…

Soft piano playing. It was Clair de Lune, Haydn. It was calming, soothing. The volume was soft enough to be heard by neighbors whose houses are just across the street but not loud enough to be causing any disruption. It was like the house the sound was coming from was a huge music box. 

Whoever was playing the piano, was very good. The emotions were displayed perfectly and mixing some of their own. You would know if you’re emotional in playing by simply catching the attention of the unsuspecting audience. Rumi notices how the pianist speeds up by half a second and after a while of playing they would realize the speed and calm down. That’s not how you play the song.

The song calmed Rumi down. She listened to it for quite a while, settling on the couch while thinking if she did leave her life’s work at her office. Her brain goes haywire thinking if she even labeled her stuff. She scolds herself for being so damn irresponsible, this wouldn’t be happening because of it. 

Her eyelids start to droop the more she listens to the goddamn classical piano player. Times like these are when she wants to throw something to the other house to shut the people up there but this time she has absolutely no reason and energy for that.

Rumi blacks out.

Rumi Usagiyama is late and it was a difference of five minutes… five minutes led to thirty because of her extensive care for her silver hair that reaches the curves of her hips. That same thirty minutes led to an hour because of searching “how to cook pancakes” on Google and ultimately failing, leading her to just settle with cold pizza on her fridge. An hour flew to an hour and forty-five minutes as she was looking for her sheet music which led her to have a massive breakdown because she was missing pages and had to print everything again, and then she realizes that she’s running five minutes late which lead to a total of an hour and fifteen minutes late with ten minutes tardy time.

If it weren’t for that fucking pianist and their fucking Haydn I wouldn’t be so late and slept on the couch.

She frantically runs to her rehearsal room where everyone involved in the project we're talking, tuning their instruments, eating, resting, or a combination of a few. It was like this every morning, you enter a room of people you’ll work with for a few months to play for a musical, and then when the project ends you act like you didn’t know each other’s life story and how they came around with their instrument.

It was always so noisy.

The tan girl sighs as she expects another classic sermon from her superiors saying that “she should be more responsible” or that “if you loved music, maybe be more punctual”. 

Well, I happen to love pancakes too so shove your fucking violin bows up your asses. We don’t even play the same fucking instruments.

Rumi sighs as she smiles and bows apologetically to her superiors. Her superiors shake their head and leave her little space in the wide rehearsal room and rolling her eyes, she sits down, reviewing her sheet music as a way of prepping herself.

“Chill down, baby bird, you look like you were gonna pounce on them if they didn’t walk away,” Rumi sighs in relief at recognizing who’s voice now was towering over. The voice laced with concern but 90% consisted of cockiness. She looks up and sees a blond, and stout Keigo Takami with an amused eyebrow raised.

Rumi sends a scowl onto Keigo’s way, “Hahaha, very funny Kei,” Keigo chuckles as he squats to Rumi’s level as she attempts to focus on her work.

“I am quite the crowd-pleaser myself if you didn’t notice,” The blond dude says in reply and it takes for the tan girl to process what in tarnation her colleague just let out.

Rumi peels her eyes off her sheet music one more time, and shakes her head, “No, why would I— why are you even here?” She asks annoyingly to the smirking Keigo who was also looking at her sheet music.

The blond man stands up, “Just wanted to remind you we have rehearsal in five, baby bird— oh, you guys have a similar sheet music to the stringed instruments,” 

The silver-haired grumbles as she realizes that Keigo was doing her a favor, she completely forgot about the rehearsal, “Thanks, Kei, I’ll keep it in mind” Keigo turns around but seems to have forgotten to say something and turns back to Rumi who is now doing air-drumming movements, aligning her hands on the imaginary lyre, playing the piece with the correct notes in her head.

“Also, uhh you left some of your sheet music here” Keigo hands her a portfolio with her name at the front and where all of her missing sheet music pages were located. Rumi mentally slaps herself in the face to scold herself for forgetting such an important thing in her life let alone make Keigo return it.

Rumi grabs the portfolio “I was wondering where that went… thank you, sorry about that,” She apologizes and Keigo finally turns around gives her a thumbs up. She remembers a part of her conversation and yells back.

“AND JUST SO YOU KNOW, PIANOS ARE BOTH STRINGED AND PERCUSSION SO DON’T DISCRIMINATE SHIT, BABY CARROT,”

Keigo smiles to himself, finally, a decent reply. The thumbs-up he was showing just now flips and turns into a middle finger as he walks back to his little space of the rehearsal room. 

Rumi smiles at the non-verbal reply and shakes her head. He seems to know how to cheer things up huh? She examines the smooth texture of her clear portfolio, once again scolding herself, clutching the plastic material in anger.

So… I had a mental breakdown, and wasted my time for fUCKING NOTHING?!?!?!

___________________

Keigo packs up the last of the things he needs to take his leave from the rehearsal studio. He slings his backpack over his shoulder and starts to stride away out of the building.

The blond man stands in line waiting for the subway to arrive, as he does an old lady in a kimono outfit comes up behind him.

“You have grown, young bird”

Keigo is stunned, is this lady talking to the right guy? The pianist looks in both directions, checking to see if she is talking to the right person. The lady giggles as she sees that Keigo points to himself to be even more sure that it was him.

“Do I know you?” Keigo asks 

The old lady smiles, “No, but I’ve seen you grow on this exact hallway, I’m proud of what you’ve done” She then proceeds to point at the place where Keigo used to play songs as people walked by, grateful for any change they drop him with. Keigo remembers this in an instant and scratches the back of his head in embarrassment.

“O-oh, th-thank you, ma’am” He bows toward the elderly and she starts to enter the train,

“Enjoy your trip home,”

Keigo smiles, “You too ma’am” He then enters the train as well.

__________________

Keigo then arrives home to hear xylophones to be the sound that greets him. He’s aware that one of his neighbors plays the xylophone. Keigo is sure it's not anyone from work as the xylophone pieces were never the pieces they would play at work. He assumes that they would practice the workpieces given that the performance is just a week away from now. The xylophone pieces were just popular songs. He sometimes hums along to the songs his neighbor chose. It was like Keigo’s evening couldn’t be complete without at least hearing one note of the xylophone, it served as his lullaby into the night.

Keigo doesn’t complain about the noise. It’s not noise, it was one of the most beautiful harmonies one could ever hear. He would trade the world to hear it again.

“Not in the mood today, huh?” He says to himself as he hears that the xylophone notes were just being played at random, not a single beat or harmony was being made. It was like they were being played out of frustration like a person was venting their anger or whatever they were feeling onto the instrument. He decides to not join them for tonight and sighs at the fact that he won’t be practicing the piano.

Keigo wanders how his neighbor is even still playing, he swore that the amount of frustration they’re letting out onto the instrument seems enough to break the sticks used to make the sound of it. He’s impressed that the xylophone itself is still in one piece to be exact. 

Keigo never had the energy or time to know who exactly was his neighbor due to his work and his dedication to it. His neighbor may have thought otherwise and never introduced themselves when they first moved in. He didn’t mind, he respected their privacy plus, it would be extremely awkward if he introduces himself now and not five months ago.

He listens to how frustrated his neighbor seems to be. He chuckles at times when he hears the same key is being played like they were annoyed by the sound of it and tries to fix it by repeatedly playing the note. 

Even if the xylophone isn’t exactly playing any song right now, he still believes that it’s still harmony in some way, it invokes emotion… well... his emotions, it was like the instrument was talking to him, ranting on how crappy their day was, a broken music box. He found the thought both funny and intriguing. Sometimes, he wants to know what’s got the lyre player in such a sour mood like this.

As Keigo listens to the horrific music. He searches up piano music sheets as more xylophone playing was starting to give him a headache. “Your Name, huh? Is this what you wanted to learn, baby bird?” He asks himself, remembering one of the pieces that were in Rumi’s portfolio. Keigo simply couldn’t help it, the clear book was thick, and he’s a curious man.

The music then stops, Keigo looks at the time; 10:00 pm. Ah, they should stop now. He notices that whenever it was ten sharp, the music stops, even if it was in the middle of a song. It was their bedtime, Keigo then decides to also call it a night and starts to close all the lights and prepare for bed. 

___________________

Rumi barges into the rehearsal room, she sighs in relief to see that no one was there yet. She woke up early today, she didn’t get to practice any songs last night and it pissed her off. She was so busy scolding herself with forgetting the portfolio of her pieces that she had forgotten the more important matter, practicing the exact songs in her portfolio. 

She didn’t want to be a burden to the other lyre players since it was evident who knew how to play the lyre if they practiced their pieces before going to work and it would be hella embarrassing if Rumi didn’t have any songs to present her lyre group with. 

It was a tradition that the lyre group makes lyre versions of popular songs, everyone in the building loves it. The sounds resembled that of a music box, melodic, lullaby-like, gentle, and peaceful, just with six other xylophones playing. 

She then grabs a music sheet stand and shoves her portfolio on it, and she starts playing in an instant. She takes notes of the pauses and how the song escalates. Maybe the group will choose her songs, the songs she’s been choosing have been very difficult, those kinds of songs kind of gives an appealing view to their leader. 

Rumi chose quite a popular song, it was “Sparkle” from the movie Your Name. She chose it mainly because she cried at the ending more than she would like to admit. She skips the repetitive piano intro and starts straight at the D#. It was quite a simple piece, she was hoping that the leader would somehow make it more complicated. The leader would always encourage them to bring him something more simple to make it grander to play since he can turn it more difficult the more they play together.

The silver-haired girl has been tapping on the same notes over and over again but seems to slowly lose count on how many times she should be playing a specific note. “Five D#… wait no… wasn’t it four?”

She plays the notes again to confirms her suspicion and she starts to anger herself at how much she confused herself over the starting line of the notes she’s playing. “If it weren’t for me and my forgetful ass and forgot the fucking portfolio, I wouldn’t be here right now cram practicing,” she grumbles to herself as she lashes her anger on the flipping of pages on her portfolio.

She starts to get impatient with herself since she keeps on making the same mistake on the same note. For some reason, she isn’t keeping track of how many times her glockenspiel on the metal plates “GODDAMMIT ALREADY” She screams out in frustration, flinging her stick towards the other side of the room. 

The stick barely misses the incoming blond male that enters the room. His eyes follow the direction of the stick as it hits the wall, taking precautions to not get hit by another stick. He notices that the stick is not a usual drum stick but is more similar to a lyre stick… Rumi. “Woah there, take a chill pill, Rumi,” Keigo says as he enters the room.

“Keigo… hi,” Rumi breathes in and composes herself and Keigo finds this a perfect time to piss her off even more

“Hello baby‘I'm pissed and I throw my stick in anger but luckily I'm alone’bird” Keigo teases while making air quotes as he says the nickname with his index and middle fingers. Rumi rolls her eyes. She paces across the room to pick up her poor glockenspiel as the other person in the room settles his place on the piano

“Well not anymore,” She grumbles and Keigo simply chuckles.

“What you practicing?”

“Just for some presentation,” Rumi shrugs off the question and focuses to prepare to start playing.

“Can I listen?” Keigo says in pure curiosity and Rumi’s answer went out faster before she even thought of saying it.

“NO!”

“And why not?” Keigo asks, raising an eyebrow at the sudden response.

“BECAUSE I HAVENT….” Rumi answers a bit too fast again and shuts herself up and tries to concentrate again on the piece.

“You haven’t what Rumi? I’m not a fortune teller over here and even if you do say no, I’m still going to listen,” Keigo points out and Rumi huffs in frustration at the man’s persistence. She hated at the fact that Keigo is right. He’s assigned to the same orchestra as her so he can’t possibly leave the room, and it’s not like he can’t listen to it even if he wanted to.

“Ihaven’tpracticedityet” Rumi says in a quick and silent voice. Keigo was impressed she managed to speak in a volume that's still too quiet even if they were the only two people in the room

“Sorry what? You were too soft” Keigo says, genuinely and for spite. Rumi inhales deeply, calming herself down before reiterating what she just said, in a slower and louder manner. 

“I haven’t practiced yet,”

Keigo scoffs, that’s what she’s so worried about?  He looks at her dead in the eye. “I’ll help you then,” 

“What’s the piece?” Keigo asks, stretching his fingers as preparation to start playing.

“Sparkle, from—” Rumi calmly says

“—Your Name”

“Your Name,” They both say simultaneously. An awkward silence fills the room and they both freeze at the realization that they said something at the same time.

“Do you play the intro?” Keigo asks and Rumi shakes her head.

“No, it hurts the ears if I play it on the lyre” She explains and Keigo nods. 

He then shrugs his shoulders and faces the piano, “I’ll play it then,”

“Whenever you’re ready then,”

Keigo’s hands lay on the white and black pieces, awaiting the right signal to himself to start playing. He calms his senses and takes a sharp inhale of breath. His fingers then start to wander and dance on the piano and the first notes are finally played.

Rumi waits for the repetitive beginning to finally come to an end and joins Keigo in the next measure. The piano and the sound of the lyre start to compliment each other, Rumi is impressed that she can play better with the guidance of a piano… Or maybe it’s Kei— NOPE IT'STHE PIANO.

The flow of the music was so enchanting, the music was attracting the people who weren’t assigned to the studio. The piece itself was already hard to play on the piano alone, concentration only became harder for both as they hear people crowding the entrance of the room. The pressure was killing the pair in the most silent yet obvious manner.

Don’t fuck up, Rumi. Don’t you dare fuck it up now? It’s going to be so fucking embarrassing for Keigo if you dare mess it up. Oh my fucking god, too fast, too fast, too fAST—

It was obvious that the piece was escalating for some reason and Rumi was panicking at the pace they were going for many reasons. One, the tan girl hasn’t memorized the piece, meaning she has to look at both the piece and her xylophone. She’s starting to wonder why on earth she’s speeding up. 

Was she not following the time signature? Maybe she didn’t time the rests right. Shit, did she forget to play a note again? Rumi looks at Keigo and everything starts to fall into place. Keigo is panicking. 

Keigo’s eyes were so focused on playing the piece it was like he was solely playing the piano on his own. His fingers are going too fast, it wasn’t obvious to the audience but he was a least two beats advanced. He’s forgetting what piece even was in the first place. His eyes are too wide. Keigo is going too fast. 

“Keigo!” Rumi screams out. Keigo hears it and he turns around and he finally sees it. Rumi isn’t looking at him but he can see her struggle, the way her eyes are flipping from the notes to the actual instrument was her way of panicking and telling Keigo to slow it down, any faster and she’s going to have to make a mistake on the way of trying to keep up.

“Sorry,” Keigo mouths out and he tries to mellow down the speed but it ends up being too fast for Rumi’s speed again. Rumi hasn’t seen Keigo’s response Rumi feels like her arm is about to fall off. She’s just pulling through the fact that the song is about to end… Okay maybe choosing the six-minute version of the song was a bad idea. 

The song finally ends and they get applause from the people who were watching them. The pair never really processed how many people were watching. It looked like only a few caught on to the fact that they were a bit too fast and the fact they ended a bit early because of it. 

Keigo and Rumi share a hug and Rumi hit’s Keigo’s nape in the process. “That was pretty stupid of you, Keigo,”

“Sorry about that,”

Keigo and Rumi turn to the crowd and simply bows in gratitude.

“What is going on in here?” The head of the lyre group comes in, the crowd quiets down their noise. It shows on their face that they have no idea why there is a crowd and why Rumi and Keigo are bowing as it turns out the head of the lyre group has just arrived in the building and hasn’t watched the entire scene play out.

“Ah, Keigo was helping me practice,” Rumi explains with a bright smile, satisfied she even finished the song. The leader raises an eyebrow as Keigo bows in front of them, a way of greeting.

“Is that so?” 

“She couldn’t get the timing right,” Keigo explains, why he is helping her in the first place.

The leader crosses their hands on their chest, “It sounds to me, you also couldn’t get the timing right, Keigo,” They say with a menacing voice.

“He got nervous, chill out,” Rumi defends.

“A musician that can’t play at the right time signature shouldn’t be playing in the first place,” The leader says, smirking. They’ve pissed off Keigo, it was obvious by the way he was looking down, fist clenched. He’s holding in every urge to bite back at the way the leader was taunting the pair.

“Is that your way of telling Rumi her song choice sucked?” Keigo quietly asks.

“Excuse me?”

“You weren’t here for the performance, more likely you came by the end of it, I can see it in your face,” Keigo points out the bewilderedness of the guy the moment they came in. He can tell that they haven’t calmed down from the shock of the people and the ending of the song.

“That’s not what I—“

“I wasn’t finished,” Keigo says, Rumi is freaking out. She’s trying to calm Keigo down by gripping his arm and silent whispers, scolding his name but Keigo persists and continues, “Now, if you’re going to tell me and Rumi that the piece she chose doesn’t suit your style, then maybe you shouldn’t be a leader because of that selfish thought, 3/4 of your lyre group are already here and they are looking at you with pretty nasty looks,” Keigo reminds the leader as he points to some people in the crowd and the leader sees their members looking at him menacingly or not even looking at them.

“Anyways, if you don’t like the help of other people from your same orchestra, maybe you should take a chill pill,” Keigo says, packing up his stuff and leaving. 

“Keigo— wait!” Rumi says, gathering her stuff as well and following shortly, completely ignoring her leader.

“Where are you going?” She says after chasing up to the blond man.

“Home,” 

“Let me come with you,”

“but—“ Keigo tries to retort, seeing that the silver-haired girl still has work and has to present the piece they were practicing in the first place yet that same girl cuts him off,

“It’s the least I could do after everything you said, dumbass,”

“Fine,” Keigo sighs continues on his journey with Rumi.

___________________

They both wait for the subway train to arrive, and as they do so, a new but familiar voice enters their conversation, “Hello there, young bird,”

Rumi is shocked to hear an old voice from behind her so she turns around. Keigo already knew the voice so his calm stature doesn’t change, “Hello,” Keigo says, bowing in respect.

“Where are you going?” The old lady asks.

“Home, people at work like to be asses today,”

“I get that, you have a pretty guest too,” The old lady points at Rumi who has a tint of blush on her cheeks after being called pretty. 

“Hi, I’m Rumi Usagiyama,” She says, bowing as well

“Hello there, little bunny, ah… well I have to be going, have a wonderful day you two,” The elderly woman says, looking at her watch and departing.

“Take care!” Keigo says as he watches her depart from them. He notices the soft gaze of Rumi as she watches the elder woman disappear, “… you like being called pretty~” He says, teasing the smaller human.

“N-NO I DO NOT,” Rumi says, eyes wide, color creeping up her cheeks, and hits Keigo’s shoulder on instinct.

“Hey, what was that for?” Keigo says a hand goes to the injured area. Not all that injured but still painful.

Rumi rolls her eyes, “You are annoying,”

“You like it when I’m annoyin— okAY OKAY I’LL STOP,” Keigo tries to bite back but Rumi is already a step ahead and pinches and twists Keigo’s ear. The train finally arrives and the two finally calm down and board the train.

___________________

They are finally walking to what Keigo calls his home. As they walk through, Rumi notices how this path seems familiar. Too familiar. It’s like she knows it because she’s been here every day. That’s exactly what it was. 

Is he going to make a left there? But I also live there. Then straight ahead for two intersections then another left. wAIT A SECOND—

“You live here?” Rumi asks and the question catches Keigo off guard. Of course, he lives here, where else was this girl expecting?

“Yeah… is there a problem?”Keigo slowly answers. Rumi’s brain is doing the most before short-circuiting again, everything seems to fall into place. 

“Did you just so happen to hear instruments playing from your other neighbors?” Rumi asks an oddly specific question “Cause ya know, you’re not the only one who can play an instrument.” She explains and Keigo nods.

“Yeah, just yesterday this neighbor of mine must’ve been pissed~ they were making the most random of notes I swear, poor xylophone just wanted some rest,” He chuckles and Rumi nods.  Did this asshat just say xylophone? yeSTERDAY?!

“ARE YOU THE ONE WHO PLAYED CLAIR DE LUNE THE OTHER DAY?!” Rumi again asks a specific question and Keigo answer it absent-mindedly.

“Yes, how did you—“

“WE’RE NEIGHBORS YOU FUCKHEAD,” Rumi freaks out and Keigo doesn’t seem to be on the same page as her.

“… what?”

“The xylophone playing yesterday wAS ME,” Rumi explains that she was the mastermind of the horrific music and Keigo slowly starts to understand.

“YOU?!?!” Keigo points at a laughing Rumi. “WHY WERE YOU PISSED?!”

“CAUSE I LEFT THIS GODDAMN PORTFOLIO AND THE LEADER GOT PISSED AT ME FOR IT,” Rumi explains while waving the envelope she was looking for one and a half days ago. 

“BUT I RETURNED IT TO YOU” Keigo tries to make sense of the situation

“EXACTLY WHY I WAS PISSED,” Rumi says as Keigo shakes his head, everything finally clicks into place and they both have calmed down, “Thank you, for a while ago,” Rumi silently says, remembering how they even found out the new information in the first place. She sees her house and yet they turn the opposite way.

“Hmm? Oh, no problem, was getting sick and tired of them treating you like shit anyway,” Keigo simply says as they finally arrive at his home, Rumi feels weirded out at the fact that she isn’t at her house but the house right in front of it.“Care for coffee, neighbor?”

[imaginedickwolf]

anonymous requested “something with Dodds” so here you go

XXX

“So, I’ve got the day off. What would you like to do?” Mike asked, silencing the alarm that you had set.

“Let’s stay in. I’ll make breakfast, we can watch movies or just be together.”

That sounds very nice.” Mike admitted. 

You smiled and got out of bed, padding into the kitchen. You were glad it sounded good to him because you really didn’t have a backup plan. You saw so little of Mike it seemed so locking yourselves away for the day was your ideal date.

You turned on some soft music as you began preparing pancake mix and cracking eggs into a bowl. Mike came in as you were prepping and leaned back against the counter. He stayed out of your way as you worked, singing along quietly to your music.

Once breakfast was ready, you moved to the living room and sat down, pancakes and scrambled eggs on your plates. You two ate quietly, Mike pausing to praise your cooking. After finishing eating, Mike sat back.

“Okay, we’ve eaten. What’s next on your agenda?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t really have an agenda other than not having to go anywhere. Maybe, never mind.” You replied. You held back your suggestion. You knew Mike loved you but you were worried he would think your idea was silly.

“Maybe what?” He asked.

“We have some jigsaw puzzles. Maybe we could work on one of those?” You offered hesitantly. Mike smiled.

“Making me use my brain on my day off. How demanding.” He teased. “Sounds fun. How big do you want to go? 500, 1000, 2000?”

“Go big or go home right? 2000 pieces.” You declared. Mike chuckled but got up, taking your plates to the sink before getting the puzzle out of the hall closet.

The puzzle took hours but neither of you was willing to give up. It was nice. You could talk about whatever you wanted while also making progress on the puzzle. You didn’t feel like you had to keep coming up with conversation but you kept finding talking points. You ended up taking a lunch break partway through but once finished returning to the puzzle.

It was only the setting sun and your rumbling stomach that told you just how much time had passed.

“I don’t feel like cooking, are leftovers okay for dinner?” You asked.

“Sure. I think we have pasta and Thai.” Mike replied, not looking up from the piece he was trying to fit into the puzzle. 

“Which do you want?” You asked.

“Pasta!” Mike replied, the triumph in his voice a result of successfully placing the piece. His exuberance made you laugh. He looked up and had to laugh too on realizing how excited he had sounded about pasta. “I know it’s not the same level as making pancakes, but I’ll take care of heating it up.”

“Thanks.” You replied, pecking him on the cheek as he went around you to the kitchen.

You continued to work and only stopped when he placed the warm bowl of curry and rice in front of you. You considered moving to the living room but both of you were still determined to finish the puzzle then and there. 

As you scooped the last of the curry from the bowl, Mike placed the last piece into the puzzle.

“Victory is ours.” You sighed, taking in the large puzzle now covering the dining table.

“Now that that monster is finished, how about a movie to end the day?” Mike suggested.

“Great idea.” You agreed. You selected one of your feel-good movies. Not too sappy and neither too comedic nor too serious. Mike popped some microwave popcorn as you settled into the couch.

The popcorn disappeared quickly and soon the two of you were simply cuddling as the movie played. Mike’s head fell into your shoulder and you began running your fingers through his dark hair.

Both of you were fading fast and you knew you were going to be spending the night on the couch. Not that you cared. As long as you had Mike in your arms, you could be happy anywhere.

[muselover1901]

Re: prompts. “Quarantine.” Alternatively, something based off urban legends. Thanks!

Well it took me forever, but hey, the world is crazy and I am just so proud of myself for finishing this Quarantine AU for you! It’s definitely WAY bigger than a drabble (at just over 2700 words) but I had a lot of fun writing it and it really pushed my abilities as a writer. Thank you for the ask! Enjoy :)

Edit: Now posted to AO3

Here With(out) You

“Are you getting close to finishing? It’s almost eight o’clock and we haven’t eaten dinner yet,” Zen says as he plops down beside Shirayuki—well, not exactly beside her, but just outside the orbit of her ever-present sticky notes, journal articles, and scratch-paper lesson plans. She acknowledges his presence with a noncommittal hum before continuing her vigorous typing on the laptop balanced on her knees. Even before the pandemic, it wasn’t totally unusual for Shirayuki to work late—she is a graduate student, after all—but lately she has been spending every waking hour on either her lab’s vaccine research or creating online lessons for her introductory biology students.

Zen’s work-life balance honestly hasn’t been much better, but since most of his work as the Mayor’s Chief of Staff involves writing reports and attending video call meetings, he can turn off his computer at the end of the day and walk away from work. Shirayuki, unfortunately, does not have the same luxury.

His stomach growls, upset at the lack of food this late in the evening. Zen reaches over, guiding a stray hair behind her ear before setting his palm against her shoulder to get her attention.

“I can make us something easy, if you want. You really should take a break to eat something.”

Shirayuki doesn’t respond. He squeezes her shoulder gently and dips his head to try to catch her gaze, but she reacts with naught but a firm pursing of her lips as she scrutinizes her screen even more. Zen gives her a small shake, as if to wake her.

“Hm?” She blinks up at him, broken from her trance, her voice sounding thin and tired. “Sorry, Zen, I really need to get this done tonight.”

She gestures vaguely to the smudged sticky-note to-do list by her laptop keyboard, the usual tasks of exercise, meal prep, and do something fun with Zen and friends crammed between terms he half-recognizes as different types of data analyses.

“We have our Friday meeting tomorrow and I need to have the preliminary results ready to present.”

“It’s fine,” he says, rubbing his hand up and down her arm and offering her a tender smile as she turns back to her spreadsheet. She is such a hard worker, and right now she’s both working to save lives and to educate the next generation of scientists. Now was not the time to be selfish—even though he misses spending time with her, they just have to push through. And if that means Zen has to cook meals by himself, without Shirayuki’s incredible culinary talent for support, then he will gladly put his limited skill to use.

“How about I make pancakes?” he suggests, “I think we still have some eggs that need to be used, so I could scramble them too—if you want?”

Without looking up, Shirayuki murmurs a dry, “Sounds great, thank you.”

Zen stands and makes his way to their kitchen, rolling up his sleeves as he goes. Even after three years of living together and countless Sundays spent chopping endless armies of vegetables as they prepped meals, there are few dishes he trusts himself to cook properly. It’s Mitsuhide and Kiki’s fault, really. When they were his roommates sophomore year, he tried his hand at a simple vegetable stew to feed Mitsuhide’s hockey team at their annual fall party. The final product honestly wasn’t half bad, but he forgot to peel the vegetables, which gave the soup a mild dirt-like aftertaste.

He honestly thought he would be able to laugh it off and learn from such a minor culinary mistake, but it turned out almost no one was willing to let him live it down—even Shirayuki couldn't resist the occasional jab when they cooked together. Indeed, one of the last times they enjoyed quality time together was during a massive day of meal prepping after their first pandemic shopping trip. Hours of chopping and grating and sautéing had driven them a little crazy, and Shirayuki had broken out in giggles while he diligently peeled his seventeenth potato.

It had taken some prodding, but eventually she managed to hold back her laughter enough to snicker, "It’s nice of you to actually peel them this time."

He’d responded with the most convincing glare he could muster before selecting a particularly long piece of peel from the pile on the counter, turning to her with a dangerous smirk, and depositing said peel on top of her head. This only served to bring back her laughter in full-force, the contagiousness of it gripping him and dragging him along until their whole house reverberated with the ridiculousness of it all.

Unlike vegetable soups, Zen had yet to mess up a batch of pancakes in his lifetime, a fact which he was quite proud of. That’s why he’d chosen to make them for Shirayuki the first morning after she stayed the night at his place. They’d groggily rolled out of bed, blushing furiously as they realized that their late-night study session for Advanced Composition had ended with both of them passed out on top of Zen’s covers with their laptops discarded by the foot of the bed. He’d insisted on making her breakfast before she left, partly because he felt bad about their awkward start to the day, but mostly because he’d been smitten with her for months and he just wanted to keep doing things with her.

Zen smiles at the memory as he gathers the ingredients and begins measuring out the flour. Even after all this time, he still treasures every moment together. And now, as they are stuck working from home for the foreseeable future, he misses her more than he did before they moved in together. Although they are around each other nearly all day, every day, they hardly interact outside of breakfast and a kiss goodnight. He sighs and forces his focus back to mixing the batter. Shirayuki is working hard and here he is being selfish again. He should be stronger.

Pushing down his loneliness, he flings himself into scrambling eggs and flipping pancakes with gusto. He quickly finishes the first set of pancakes, butters them, and stacks them neatly on Shirayuki’s plate next to her portion of eggs. For the final touch, he sprinkles a hint of powdered sugar across them and places a little dollop of fruit preserves on top. Hopefully these would look appetizing enough to entice her into taking a break from work to eat. With her plate in hand, Zen makes his way back to the living room and sets her meal on the coffee table.

“Food’s ready,” he announces. “Please don’t forget to eat.”

Shirayuki pauses, tired eyes flicking away from her screen to meet his and offering all the gratitude she can muster. “Thank you, Zen. I promise I will eat as soon as I finish this analysis.”

Zen offers a quick smile in return before heading back to the kitchen to make dinner for himself. He’d better check on her soon, just to make sure she doesn’t get sucked into her work despite her promise—although it is never intentional, her basic needs often fall by the wayside when she is hyper-focused like this.

Fifteen minutes later, Zen returns to the living room with his own stack of pancakes (chocolate chip) and scrambled eggs (sprinkled with his friend Obi’s homemade hot sauce, because the pain was always worth the flavor). And just as he feared, Shirayuki hasn’t touched her food.

“How’s it coming? Are you going to eat soon?” Zen settles into his spot on the couch next to her and cuts into his pancakes with his fork.

“Hm? Oh yes, I figured out why that regression was behaving unexpectedly, I had just flipped the variables.” She bites her lip. “I guess after I fixed that, I just moved on to the next thing.”

Zen reaches out to tenderly place a hand on her cheek and guide her eyes away from her screen and to his own. Her eyelids droop a little, and he notices a small crease between her eyebrows—she looks so tired. He drags his thumb across her cheekbone and her eyes flutter shut as she relaxes into his hand.

His heart skips a little at the intimacy of their position; after all, it had been weeks since they had really shared a moment like this, just comfortable in stillness with each other’s full attention. Eyes still closed, Shirayuki reaches up to hold his hand against her cheek and sighs as she turns her head to press her lips against his palm. With a gentle squeeze of his hand, she releases him and turns to exchange her laptop for her plate.

Although she continues working while they eat, Zen is relieved to see her diligently taking bites between bits of code. It doesn’t take long before she cleans her plate entirely. With a yawn, Zen stretches and rises from the couch before collecting their dishes and returning to the kitchen to clean up. The clock above the stove reads 10:08pm.

How did it get so late? He’d just have to head right to bed after this. Dozing off during his morning call with the Mayor was not how he wanted to start his day tomorrow.

After finishing the dishes and changing into his sleep shirt, he returns to the living room to let Shirayuki know he’s going to bed—apparently she still has a couple hours of work ahead of her, but she promised she’d come to bed as soon as she was done. With Shirayuki resigned to her work for the night, Zen heads to their bed and does his best to get comfortable. As the weight of the blanket settles over him, he melts into the mattress and takes the deepest, most relaxing breath he’s taken all day. Despite his body giving in to its need to rest, Zen’s mind still races with thoughts of the meeting tomorrow morning and of the latest case counts in the city. God, he can’t wait for the day when all of this chaos is over. He and Shirayuki could take a weekend off and hike Mount Koto just like they did senior year after finals. He sighs at the thought.

Visions of them packing their picnic supplies into his old backpack flash through his mind. He’s smiling as he makes Shirayuki’s sandwich with the mustard by the meat and the veggies under the cheese, just the way she likes it. The sunshine warms their faces as they walk along the trail, and Shirayuki is a vision in her button-up hiking shirt and sunhat, all glowing skin and bright smiles. He reaches their picnic spot first, so he spreads their blanket and sets out their food. Shirayuki’s still a ways behind, but she’ll be there with him soon, he tells himself. She will. He busies himself smoothing the blanket and making sure her sandwich is arranged just so with a nice serving of chips and a gleaming red apple.

He’s just about to polish her apple for a second time when he realizes he doesn’t hear the crunch of her footsteps on the trail anymore. Panicked, he shoots up from his seat and runs over to the trail to try to find her, to no avail. Maybe she went off-trail to relieve herself? No that can’t be it, she’s taking way too long, and she would have told him if she was going off trail, right? Oh god—what if she hurt herself and she’s stuck somewhere down the trail? Zen abandons the picnic and runs as fast as his legs can take him down the trail, until—

He hears the faint tapping of fingers on a keyboard. Looking across the trail, he sees the edge of a laptop screen poking out from behind a tree. As he approaches it, the sound gets louder and louder, until it feels almost deafening and Zen has to cover his ears to avoid the incessant din. He looks around the tree’s thick trunk and sees Shirayuki in front of the screen, her hair disheveled and eyes unblinking as she types away.

She’s absolutely overworking herself! Zen can’t let her keep doing this. He should have caught it before it got this bad, he should have pulled her away from work and made her take care of herself. Regardless, he refuses to let this go on any longer. He takes a deep breath, removes his hands from his ears, and reaches out to set his hand on her shoulder as he always does when he needs to get her attention. His hand goes right through her, as if she were a ghost.

He wakes to find her side of the bed empty.

Zen’s sleep shirt is clinging to his sweating chest and the sheets are tangled up in his legs. He kicks them off and rolls over with a groan. So much for getting a good nights’ sleep before the meeting tomorrow morning. He reaches for his bedside lamp, trying to feel the small switch in the dark. It takes him a minute, fingers clumsy and sleep-addled, but he finally finds it with a click and squints against the soft, yellow light. He yawns and drags his phone towards him by its charging cable and groans again when he sees the time. 2:37am.

With little desire to return to the stifling sheets, he decides it’s best to just get out of bed and have a glass of water before trying to sleep again. He shuffles out of the bedroom, and as the door clicks behind him, his tired mind peripherally registers that the living room light is still on. But with water being his body’s primary goal, he drowsily continues on to the kitchen and downs a full glass in three big gulps when he gets there. With his mind cleared from the coolness of the water, he realizes that even though the living room light is still on, Shirayuki’s persistent typing is absent.

When he reaches the living room, he finds Shirayuki on the couch, slumped to the side with her lips parted and a quiet snore escaping her with each exhale.  Her laptop is open and teetering dangerously close to the edge of her lap, but the screen has long since shut itself off. There’s still a pencil behind her ear, too.

With as much gentleness as he can muster this late at night, Zen extracts her laptop and moves it over to her desk so it can charge overnight. He removes the pencil from behind her ear and brushes her hair away from her eyes.

“Shirayuki, come to bed.” Her eyes crack open ever so slightly, and she grumbles but does not stir. Zen sighs. Even in sleep—no, especially in sleep—she’s as stubborn as ever.

“I’m going to pick you up, okay?” She mumbles something unintelligible, but’s all the affirmation he needs. He pushes his arms underneath her knees and shoulders, steels himself, and scoops her up. At first, her head lolls to the side, but then she turns and nuzzles against his chest. He can’t help but smile down at her as he carries her back to the bedroom and slowly places her on top of the sheets.

“Shirayuki, you should change out of your clothes,” he says.

She stirs a bit before slurring, “Don’t wanna. Wanna sleep.”

“If you don’t change now, you’ll regret it in the morning. You know you will.”

At this, Shirayuki groans and pushes herself up off the mattress. She insists he help her take off her clothes, which makes him laugh and blush in equal measure.

It’s only after she is changed and settled under the sheets that he finally lets himself sink into their bed again, mind and body finally relaxed with the knowledge that she’s next to him and already half asleep. He turns off his bedside lamp with a click and lets the rhythm of her breathing lull him back to sleep. Just as the last remains of his consciousness are about to slip away, he feels the delicate press of fingers against his shoulder, the tickle of a whisper against his ear, and the softness of a kiss against his temple.

“Thank you, Zen. I love you.”

[cardmeal9]

College Of Strathclyde.

Find And Buy Sarms In Canada

Content

A Bluffers Guide To Two Of Skin Cares Most Powerful Energetic Components.

Listing Of Sarms & Their Usages.

Staining Of Muscle Blood Vessels.

Fantastic Product As Well As Customer Support !!!

Due to this till a new country determines to get the torch the SARM products on the marketplace will end up being less and far between as well as may also vanish totally. The adverse effects for S4 can be thought about above the various other SARMs stated as the noteworthy noted negative effects is evening blindness and/or a yellow color to your vision throughout the day. Information on its real communications with human beings is based upon observation and story and so much, it recommends that S4 does create visible gains in LBM and strength along with significant fat loss. The S23 SARM is a SARM, created by GTx, Inc as a potential man birth control. Yes, the purpose of this is nothing to do with muscle mass as well as strength yet to do with your sperm. It binds to the AR extra highly than the older SARMs such as Anadrine. Throughout these researches no adverse effects such as testosterone suppression or estrogen conversion occurred.

What SARMs to take?

The Best SARMs in 2020 1. Ostarine MK-2866 – Best SARM Overall. Ostarine MK-2866 is also known as Ostarine, Enobosarm, or GTx-024. 2. Lingadrol LGD-4033​ – Best for Women. Lingadrol, or LGD-4033, is a SARM used to combat bone and muscle loss, resulting from osteoporosis. 3. YK-11 – Best for Fast Gains. 4. Andarine S-4​ – Best for Cutting Fat.

It would certainly show up that Classified Nutrition is no longer selling Neurolytes pills as well as has altered its marketing, however the business is still marketing sporting supplements. Various other athletes have actually additionally been sanctioned complying with an AAF for ostarine, despite being determined that they had not planned to cheat. Simply over the most popular of which , two triathletes suggested that their ostarine AAFs were caused by salt tablet computers utilized to combat the results of dehydration. " They did give me a nine month restriction and I obtain it, I comprehend it", he claimed. " On paper it's nine months, but they've been great to me really.

A Bluffers Guide To Two Of Skincares Most Effective Energetic Ingredients.

The professional athlete's urine sample, gathered throughout out-of-competition doping control on December 4, 2016, disclosed the presence of SARM RAD-140, a prohibited anabolic agent. ostarine was not created to be a shrewd way to replace steroids. Examining techniques have been created and also reported for these drugs, with numerous athletes having evaluated favorable for Andarine. Due to the chemical structure being very different from timeless steroids it might have been thought that they would not be discovered in doping control examples, however tests have actually been established and will certainly continue to be so for any type of future targets. Be liable, and in 99.9% of instances, users will certainly not have any kind of side effects from making use of SARMs. SARMs have extremely little adverse effects, making them very popular and promising for that reason.

Historically, the listing of athletes that have actually criticized supplements for an AAF is a very long one. Barnett has actually taken lawsuit versus Classified Nutrition, declaring that 3 different research laboratory results verified that Neurolytes pills consisted of focus of ostarine at around 150 nanograms per capsule.

Listing Of Sarms & Their Uses.

Because of the HPTA suppression a PCT is required blog post cycle for 4 weeks complied with by an equivalent or greater amount of time off after the PCT duration. The biggest downside with LGD is that it created modest to strong HPTA reductions for both total as well as cost-free testosterone. Overall testosterone lowered by simply over 50% contrasted to placebo. But hormonal agent degrees did go back to typical within 56 days after quiting with no PCT.

Does military test for SARMs?

The purchase of SARMs by a U.S. Navy Sailor does not fall under Article 112a of the UCMJ be- cause it is neither an enumerated drug nor on a schedule of the Controlled Substances Act. Further, SARMS are not currently tested for in routine Navy urinalysis.

According to the Oxford Academic Journal of Endocrinology, nonsteroidal SARMs have actually been made to affix itself to a location of the DNA responsible for skeletal muscle mass healthy protein synthesis. Until now, proof suggests subjects will certainly acquire between 3 to 15 pounds of muscle mass tissue over a 12 week duration. The amount of muscle mass hypertrophy hinges on diet, training, and the characteristics of the SARM. Other substances like GW thought about the type of endurance supplements as well as SR9009 are generally organized with SARMs, but are not the same. Nonsteroidal SARMs are created specifically for one type of lock, for that reason, it will only impact locations of the DNA that protect against muscle and also bone wastage while also advertising development in these locations. The difference between these 2 sorts of SARMs is most conveniently referred to as a lock as well as essential system, The cells in the body function as locks as well as the binding websites of the cells are are the keyholes.

Staining Of Muscle Blood Vessels.

The Sporting activity Resolutions decision in Webster's situation confirms that UKAD was unable to use him a decrease in his restriction due to the fact that, as he was keen to find the resource of the ostarine, he was not prepared to immediately admit an anti-doping rule violation. ' The Tribunal kept in mind that Mr Webster had attempted to examine the concern of contamination by sending out samples from six supplements for screening to DNA Legal', reviews the decision. ' Reports from DNA Legal outdated 30 August 2017 and 28 September 2017 confirmed that none of the examples checked included ostarine. " I had just altered 2 items in my training before that examination. I changed by BCAA amino acids, which I purchased from a store in Loughborough. I additionally got a protein pancake mix, which I have on an extremely uncommon occasion as a breakfast choice.

Research study SARMs are studied for their impacts on muscular tissue gains, bone thickness, healing time, weight loss and for any kind of unfavorable results they may create.

SARMs are similar to steroids, but they are not one and the very same.

The increase in testosterone from SARMs results in even more anabolic task, giving the body a side.

SARMs, or careful androgen receptor modulators, are a class of androgen receptor ligands discovered in the 90s, after the adverse effects of steroids had actually been far better considered.

Nonetheless, SARMs are understood for having minimal negative effects as well as no known red flags when taken within certain dosages, according to a recap of research study reported in Existing Opinion in Clinical Nourishment & Metabolic Treatment.

The Globe Anti-Doping Firm prohibits the use of SARMs in sport, no doubt as a result of their performance-enhancing impacts.

" I have actually been medication evaluated eight times and never had an issue", he explains. I had a test, after that concerning 3 or four weeks later on got an e-mail saying that I had actually failed the test as a result of ostarine. I googled it and also did my study, and after that took a seat and considered points. Biosci AbstractsBioscientifica Abstracts is the portal to a collection of products that provide a permanent, citable document of abstracts for biomedical and life science conferences. I can validate that UK SARMS is the only area you should be acquiring your PDs, why is straightforward, pure high quality item, and wonderful price, you obtain what you spend for individuals, additionally straightforward rapid following day postage. All of our items are made under good production methods in an ISO 7 medical-grade laboratory.

Great Product And Client Service !!!

In the 1940s, steroidal SARMs were used for medical usage in several illness consisting of cancer cells, hypogonadism, osteoporosis, as well as a variety of various other conditions that influence muscular tissue as well as bone wasting. Today is the last day of the month, so why not inform yourself that you are quiting using SARMs today. This most likely isn't the recommendations you truly wished to listen to, but I think that it's the very best advice for you. Very often in terms of the dosage of tablets per weight kind SARM, it is recommended to make use of one tablet each day for up to 80 kg and 2 tablet computers for greater weight. Nonetheless, this details must not be taken into consideration as a recommendation-- all the same, the dosage needs to be sensibly approximated based upon the supplier's recommendations and physician's suggestions. As a result, before taking SARMs you must believe thoroughly concerning it

Nonetheless, opinions on aware and also regulated dosage, focused on accomplishing the wanted impacts and also limiting the optimum feasible side effects are popular. SARM prep work are recommended for people with high training experience. Keep in mind that there are no magic pills that will do everything for you.

Andarine S-4 was developed to minimising muscular tissue wasting, promote stamina, and gain lean muscle mass. Ostarine was established as a therapy for muscle squandering syndromes by enhancing stamina and advertising muscle development. Cardarine was created to improve stamina, as well as increase fat loss. Ligandrol was established to enhancing lean muscle, enhance stamina, and also protect against muscle wastefulness. Contact us today for more information concerning SARMs body building supplements as well as we will be happy to assist with any kind of questions you may have for us.

Yes, I want to receive updates about items & services, promos, special deals, news & events from Killer Nutrition. The maximum number of items that can be contrasted is 3, if you want to compare this product rather than one more you have actually chosen please deselect the item as well as replace it with the item you wish to compare. We make use of cookies to boost your experience, show you products you might like and also save your cart. BPC157 Germany discloses that SARMs are "generally well-tolerated" in clinical trials, with "lower prostatic effects in men and also virilising effects in females". " Anabolic steroids are known for a whole host of undesirable negative effects." SARMS were first created totally by accident in the early 1990s.

A UKAD agent confirmed that it has taken care of simply two ostarine cases throughout the past year. This consists of Webster as well as Stephen Costello, a 60 year old amateur biker who reported several AAFs, but suggested that he had actually drank smoothies containing the supplements prepared by his partner for her very own use. USADA supplied to test the items used by Wallhead, despite him being based overseas in the UK, and also also sourced its very own supplement bathtub to verify his claims. It sustained his attempt to decrease his sanction for an ADRV he suggested was not his mistake.

They stated that although their providing me nine months, the firm and its internet site had actually been red flagged, and I must have googled the items. I simply acquired a bog-standard BCAA as well as I did check the ingredients. The varying methods of UKAD and also USADA boil down to the situations of each private situation, yet also experience.

SARMs Fitness Supplements Debate - Healthline

SARMs Fitness Supplements Debate.

Posted: Thu, 27 Sep 2018 07:00:00 GMT [source]

To make it worth taking SARMS, it is essential combine its usage with your own training and also nourishment as you can not expect to build muscle mass without placing in the job; this product merely helps the job you perform in the fitness center as well as in other places. With a routine training regular and an ideal diet plan, you must be able to accomplish your objectives, which will not only benefit you physically, yet also aid you to conquer any obstacles for you to beat your individual bests when training. We have actually consisted of "Selective Androgen Receptor Modulators" as well as SARM-like items into this group. We do not supply any kind of recommendations on the usage of these products as UK Legislation prevents this. Consumers should examine the legality of this product in their own nation before purchase. The manufacture and distribution of the raw materials to make SARMs was prohibited in China from 1st January 2020. The frustrating bulk of supplement components originate from China, with a niche like SARMs it's mosting likely to be someplace between 89-99% of basic materials.

Scientist Professor James T Dalton determined andarine - a SARM - while researching therapies for prostate cancer cells. Years later on, he developed an additional SARM - ostarine - and also while the advancement of these medicines for the cancer market discontinued, a black market became an outcome of their impacts. Male's Health joins numerous affiliate advertising programs, which implies we might make money payments on editorially picked items purchased through our web links to store websites. You ought to consult an accordingly qualified lawyer on any type of specific legal trouble or matter.

The info offered here was accurate since the day it was published; nevertheless, the legislation might have changed since that date. This details is not meant to be, and need to not be utilized as, an alternative to taking legal recommendations in any type of details situation. LawInSport is exempt for any type of activities taken or otherwise taken on the basis of this details. The Canadian Centre for Ethics in Sport revealed today that David Drouin, a biking professional athlete, obtained a four-year assent for an anti-doping rule violation.

Nevertheless, some clients did have light altitudes of liver enzymes (about 20%) as well as unfavorable modifications of lotion lipids (HDL down 27%). With the majority of the patients these degrees were still taken into consideration within typical range and not a high and even light cardiovascular risk. Ostarine is one of the most popular SARM on the planet, although it is non-steroidal it is carefully related to anabolic/androgenic in its activity. As it effectively promotes most significantly the Androgen Receptor in skeletal muscular tissue and also bone. It is much less active in "androgenic" tissues such as the prostate or sex organs.

[ythmir-writes]

Fictober 2019, Day 9

Prompt: “There’s a certain taste to it.” Fandom: Ikemen Vampire Pairing: Le Comte/MC Rating: general audiences

The afternoon air was finally cool and crisp after a long and extended warm and arduous summer. She always looked forward to experiencing that first breath of calming chill in the air and there was a skip in her step now as she walked from the public library back to the Comte’s mansion.

The colder winds was a signal of sorts that another year of living with the greatest names of history was coming to an end.  

Even after spending three years with them, she still could not believe it.

As she closed the gate to the mansion, she wondered if she should do something special for dessert for the boys to mark the changing of seasons.

So she headed for the kitchens. Sebastian would be busy with dinner prep so she could bounce ideas with him. Back in her time, fall was popular for two things: Halloween, and fall-themed drinks.

Halloween, or at least, the one she and Sebastian were used to, had not been invented yet and she figured that vampires and scary costumes were not the best thing to mix. So maybe, something pumpkin-y?

Where to get it though? Her experience with the flavour had always been commercial side. She could try to recreate it but it was going to take time and a lot of experiments.

All the more to ask her fellow time-traveller then.

However, as she donned her apron and entered the mansion’s kitchen, the man who was busy behind the counter was the one she least expected to see.

“Comte?” She asked, surprised to see the grand master of the mansion wearing an apron very similar to hers. Not only that, he was surrounded by Sebastian’s usual cooking materials, and something that smelled savory was cooking in the big pot behind him.

Wait. Not exactly Sebastian’s usual.

“Oh.” The Comte looked up, surprised and then just the faintest bit of what looked like a blush. “Sebastian said you wouldn’t be for another hour.”

“What are you doing here, Comte?” She asked, stepping closer. And saw that he was not only cooking, it looked as if he was trying his hand at baking as well. His apron was coated with flour dust, and some of the containers on the table looked like they contained sugar, nutmeg, and cinnamon, among others.

“Well…”  The Comte Saint de Germain hesitated, and then waved at the table in front of him. “I’m watching the stew.”

She did not move.” 

“Ah. No use hiding it now that you’ve found me out.”

She raised her hands. “If you don’t want to be disturbed, it’s okay, I could just find Sebastian and – ”

“It’s quite all right.” The Comte scratched at his cheek. “To be honest, I finished a sample and I needed someone to taste it for me.”

“Okay.” She answered, doing her best to contain her excitement and the rush of relief that he had not chosen to keep this a secret. Whatever it was the Comte was trying to do, she wanted to be part of it. “What do we have here, then?”

“Well.” The Comte turned around and headed for the counter behind him. “I’m trying to recreate a certain dessert I’ve had in one of my travels.”

“Right.” She said, looking at the ingredients before her, trying to guess what it could be.

“It’s a little bit sweet but has a bit of kick to it.” the Comte turned back, and was carrying a tray with two pieces of bread, both of which were topped with a generous serving of something white. “I’m not sure if I got it right though.”

“It looks tasty!” She exclaimed, leaning closer to take a whiff. “Is that cinnamon?”

“Yes.” The Comte placed his hands on the table.

“What is it?” She asked, noticing his hesitation.

“That’s exactly it. I can’t remember the name. I remember it wasn’t English sounding though. I was passing through a marketplace and chanced upon it. I’ve never seen it again.”

She raised her brows. The Comte forgetting a detail as important as a name seemed to be unlikely but here they were. So even the grand master had his own quirks. “Or, it could just be a plain cinnamon bun.”

For a moment, he stared at her with wide horrified eyes and she scrambled to say something else, a remark, an excuse for her being so un-creative – something to remove the look of utter shock on the Comte’s face when all of a sudden, he laughed.

A hearty, shaking his shoulders, and closing his eyes kind of laugh.

And a contagious one too. Then again, she always felt better whenever she saw the Comte smile. As if just by seeing him happy made the world a better place.

“Goodness, of course.” He finally said. “A cinnamon bun.”

“I don’t mean to say there isn’t a more nuanced name…”

“No, no. I think you’re right.” The Comte looked at her. “Living all these centuries has made me quite the complicated thinker, I think. Making things more conspiratorial than they really are. When the truth sometimes is just right there for us to see.”

He motioned to the bread. “Well, if you may, ma cherie?”

“Oh! Right, right of course.” She took the bread and fork offered to her, sliced off a small part and tasted.

It was nothing short of bliss. She closed her eyes, savoured the taste of cream and the kick of cinnamon on a perfectly baked bread. She took her time chewing, wondered if her tongue could be blessed by any ordinary cinnamon bun from hereon out.

“How is it?” the Comte asked.

“It’s delicious!” She answered. “I think you did a perfect job here. I’d never had anything nearly as good.”

The Comte let out a breath, shoulders relaxing. “The cinnamon isn’t too strong?”

“Not at all.” She said.

“Good. You think the others will like it?”

“They’ll love it!” She answered. “Except, Theo though. Because pancakes is top tier already. I don’t think he’ll be appreciative of this.”

That earned her another laugh, a shorter and more subdued one. But gods above, it was rewarding enough.

“So. I just want to tweak it a little bit. The taste is there, the cinnamon is my foundation, but I need it just a little bit more.” The Comte motioned to the rest of the ingredients. “Help me with the rest?”

“Sure, absolutely.” She said. “But, I’m just curious. Why are you so keen on getting a pastry right?”

“Have you noticed it’s been a bit colder recently?”

She nodded.

“There’s a certain taste to it.” He finally said, his eyes misting at the memory. “A bit of falling leaves, the chill in the air, almost certainly like – ”

“The taste of fall?” She asked.

“Exactly.” He looked back at her, eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiled.

It was just one of his many smiles, and yet her heart felt full of it. At the moment, she wanted nothing more than to memorize that smile, to commit the moment to memory and keep it in the deepest parts of her soul. But even as she soared at being the object of his smile, nothing could have prepared her for what came next.

“It’s something else too.” The Comte leaned forward, a little bit playful, a little bit enticing. And her heart, then already racing, felt as if it could burst out of her at any moment.

“You came here around the same time.” The Comte eyes seemed to burn into her, and he whispered. “And it’s a taste that reminds me of you.”

[thelovecore]

Faithfully -Steve Harrington-

Steve Harrington x reader

Here’s another dose of some Steve fluff! Sorry it’s been a few days, I had a busy weekend. This is just a little something I wrote kind of quickly. 

Masterlist

__________________

Steve and I didn’t have a lot of money for lavish dates or fancy dinners. We had moved in together and were working all day and taking care of our house at night. It was rare that we got to unwind and relax together. We told each other it would get easier once we got settled, and every night we curled up against each other and told each other how much we loved each other. The love that we had was incredibly strong. We just knew the day we got together that this was it. This was our last relationship. We were meant for each other.

“Hey. I’m off work tomorrow.” He said one night, looking into my sleepy eyes while we laid in bed. He had an arm around my waist and was rubbing my back.

“Yeah? What are you going to do with a whole day off?” I asked, smiling.

“I don’t know yet.” He said. “I want to do something special.” He bit his lip a little.

“You could hang out with Dustin. It’s been a few days since you’ve seen him.” I said.

“Yeah.” He said, brushing hair behind my ear. “Maybe I’ll just catch up on some sleep.”

“Well I’ll be home at five, so just have your plans to see me at some point after that.” I said, putting my legs over top of his under the sheets. He wrapped his arms around me and buried his face into my chest.

“I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else.” He said.

I started my shift at the diner I worked at the next day at 10. I let Steve sleep in and gently kissed his cheek as I left.

Work was hell. My co-workers Gina and Fran were both running around when I got there. I immediately jumped in and started pouring coffee for people, getting yelled at by every customer in the process. Apparently a cook called in sick, and the manager, Ted, was struggling to keep up.

“Ted, I need table 12’s pancakes!” Gina yelled through the window, Ted looking up in his dress shirt covered by a stained white apron.

“Right, it’s coming, offer them a coupon in the meantime!” He yelled back. Gina rolled her eyes and turned to me.

“It’s been like this all morning. This is why the pencil pushers need to get on our level every once in a while.” She said. I smirked a little as I filled up more coffee pots. I went out and shmoozed more customers and offered free slices of pie for them to take home just to keep their heads from exploding and tips on the table.

After the breakfast rush ended, we slowed down drastically for lunch. Gina and I were prepping lemons and making iced tea and chatting.

“So how’s Steve?” She asked.

“He’s fine. He’s off today so I let him sleep in before I left. He’s been working like crazy lately.” I said. “We’re so caught up on the house though, we can finally slow down.”

“Do you think he’s working a lot to buy a ring?” Gina said, nudging me with her shoulder. I giggled at the idea. I mean, sure, I’ve thought about it...several times.

“Maybe. I don’t know. We’ve talked about getting married, ya know? It just feels like something that’s still so far away.” I said.

“You two would make beautiful babies.” Fran said, walking over and putting down dishes. I felt blush creep up my cheeks. I’ve also thought about that too...several times.

“Oh my god totally.” Gina said. While Gina was closer to my age, Fran was the older, motherly figure we needed working here. Gina and I would develop unrealistic expectations of life and Fran was there to gently guide us in the right direction.

“Now that’s definitely something that’s far away.” I said. “I don’t even know if Steve wants kids.”

“Oh that boy is definitely dad material.” Gina said.

“You think?” I asked.

“He’s brought those kids in here before, and the way he talks to them, definitely.” Fran said. “He watches out for them, one time he even made them all eat vegetables.”

“You just wait, Steve’s gonna marry you and you’re going to have like six beautiful kids.” Gina laughed.

“Okay, I’m going to draw the line at like, I don’t know, two kids.” I laughed back.

“Regardless, they’re going to be beautiful.” She said, walking away. I went back to rolling silverware and got to thinking.

Were Steve and I ready to get married and start a family? I love him so much. It wouldn’t have to be a big wedding, just us, and the kids, maybe Nancy and Johnathan. I guess we would be good parents…

“You’ve got a table.” Fran said, motioning over her shoulder. I peeked at the table and it was Dustin, Mike, Will, and Lucas.

“Oh geez.” I mumbled, knowing Steve could possibly be somewhere around and I hoped he hadn’t heard our conversation. I filled up four waters and took them over to the kids.

“Hey. Where’s Steve?” I asked.

“Well geez, a hello would have been good too.” Dustin said. “Steve said he had things to do today. We got Nancy to drive us here.”

“Things? He’s off work today, what could he possibly have to do?” I asked.

“Way to go, Dustin, you’re going to get Steve in trouble.” Lucas said.

“I’m not mad, I just don’t know what he’d be doing.” I said. “Four usual orders? Burgers, fries, no pickles?”

They all nodded and I took the ticket to the window. I felt lost in a puzzled haze the rest of the day. I took the four burgers over to the kids and Dustin just stared at his.

“What’s wrong, Dustin?” I asked. He looked up at me.

“Please don’t be mad at Steve.” He said. He looked ready to cry.

“Dustin, I told you guys I wasn’t mad.” I said. “Do you know something I don’t know?”

“No!” Mike quickly said, shooting a look at Dustin.

“Okay, see, that seems suspicious.” I said. Mike looked down at his food. “Just enjoy your burgers, okay? I know Steve is fine. I’m fine.”

Nancy came back to pick the kids up after they were done with their food. I cleaned up their table and my shift was almost over. I began to feel incredibly tired as I counted my tips and got ready to leave.

“Tell Steve we said hi.” Fran said as we both left for the day. The dinner servers had come in to take over for us, and her, Gina, and I were leaving.

“Will do.” I said, getting into my car.

I drove home humming to the radio and tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. When I pulled into our driveway, I noticed all of the lights were on in the house. As I got closer to the door, I heard whispers.

“She’s here!”

“Shut up!”

“Sorry!”

I slowly opened the door and heard shuffling. I put my bag down and took my shoes off. I turned to go into the living room and saw Steve standing there, in a nice shirt and jeans, smiling. I looked around the room and saw a few lit candles and some flower petals all over the room. I heard a click from behind me and Faithfully by Journey started playing. Steve smiled and held his hand out to me. I felt a mix of blush and butterflies take over my whole body. I smiled like an idiot.

“Can I have this dance?” He asked quietly. I smiled and put my hand in his. My other arm went to his shoulder and his snaked around my waist. He pulled me close and I rested my head on his chest.

“How was work?” Steve asked. I hummed a little in response and looked up at him.

“It was crazy at breakfast. The kids showed up right before I was done though. Dustin was acting a little weird.” I said. I felt Steve stiffen a little.

“Really? Do you think he’s sick or something?” Steve asked, still swaying gently to the music.

“I don’t know. I think he’s okay.” I said, returning my head to leaning on Steve’s chest. “This is really sweet Steve. I needed this after my crazy day.”

“I just wanted to do something special for my girl.” He said. I smiled into his chest as I breathed a huge sigh out. I felt my whole body relax and I just got so absorbed in the moment. My body melted with Steve’s. Steve started singing along quietly with the song, and I knew the ending was coming.

“Hey.” Steve whispered. I felt him tense up again. I looked up at him and he slowly took his arms back from around me. “I love you.” He said, holding my hands.

“I love you too.” I said, smiling at him. He breathed out a small sigh and that’s when it happened, quickly but in slow motion at the same time.

Steve got down on one knee and pulled a ring out of his pocket. My hands flew to cover my mouth and I felt my breath leave me. Steve looked up at me with hopeful, sparkling eyes. I saw his breath stop in his throat.

“Will you marry me?” He whispered. I took that moment to just take everything in. Steve’s features, softened by candlelight but still handsome. The flower petals in our home, Journey (somehow on repeat) in the background, and the amount of love my body felt. I nodded fervently while choking out a small ‘yes’. Steve stood up and slipped the ring on my finger. I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. He smiled into it, putting his hands on my hips and pulling me into him.

“It worked!” I heard from behind me. I jumped a little and Steve wrapped his arm around me reassuringly. I turned to see Dustin coming out from the hallway, radio in hand. “I told you Journey was the perfect song!”

Steve chuckled a little, arms still around me. I turned back to him and just stared into his chocolate eyes, glistening slightly with what could be tears. I started laughing at the whole situation.

“What’s so funny?” Steve asked.

“I have to go to work tomorrow and tell Gina she was right.”

[runningwithrio]

Preparing for a Quarantine

With shortages in food and supplies around the world, an economic crisis, and potential longer-term quarantine, we all have to take life day-by-day.

I have been doing a ton of research regarding this topic since the china travel bans, when word of the potential pandemic was beginning. I’ve been slowly preparing, meal prepping, and making sure I can live self-sufficiently if necessary. I’ve also been worried about my family and friends, in the case that others may not be prepared. 

Some things that you should ensure you have:

Medical supplies:

Thermometer, over-the-counter medicine, vitamins and basic medical supplies. If possible, get prescriptions filled ahead of time so you have a 30+ day supply to avoid withdrawal or medical emergencies

Dog/pet food and supplies:

Dog food, cat litter if you have a cat, prescriptions if necessary, and any other essential supplies. Your dog may have less exercise during a time of emergency, so consider getting toys, bones, etc to keep them busy

Frozen meats or protein sources:

I have been buying and storing meals that I've made such as meatballs, pre-cooked food sources, etc. Now that grocery stores even have a meat shortage, and I want to avoid public places, I tried to order my meat from my food subscription box, Thrive Markets, but, even they are two weeks behind on deliveries. With the threat of a military-enforced quarantine on the horizon, I realized I simply could not take the chance, and opted to order from Butcher Box. Another option is to order protein powder, so even if you don’t have frozen meats, you will at least have a long term protein source if necessary

Frozen, canned and fresh fruits and vegetables:

I always have a ton of frozen fruits and vegetables on hand for smoothies, sides for dinner and even freeze my produce if possible when I’m unable to eat it in time. For example, peppers and onions can be diced and frozen for stir-fries, fajitas, etc. These will likely be essential nutrients to keep your immune system strong in the case of a quarantine

Coffee/tea:

This may not be essential for survival, but for me, it’s important for my productivity at work and daily tasks, and I want to avoid withdrawal if I’m stuck at home. I buy coffee beans and grind them daily for the coffee I make at home, and stocked up on bags of coffee beans. Lord knows they won't go to waste

Pasta, pasta sauce, rice:

These are easy and cheap ingredients to stock pile in the case of emergency. I’m a Banza girl when it comes to pasta so I have boxes and boxes at all times in my cabinet. You can throw vegetables and nuts, seeds, cheeses, meats, etc into pasta or with rice and easily make it a balanced meal. Homemade pasta salad is also amazing

Soup and crackers:

Another easy meal, and for me an essential when I’m sick. If I do end up sick, I’ll be relying heavily on my soup and cracker stash

Nuts, seeds, nut butters:

Easy protein and healthy fat source. Can be added to stir fries, eaten as a snack, or put in a breakfast parfait or smoothie

Bread/rolls:

Thankfully, these can be frozen and used at any point, so I have bagels, hamburger rolls, English muffins, and bread stored for when I need it

Ground beef:

Such a versatile protein source. Make hamburgers, tacos, meatballs, lasagna, etc. This is a staple for me because of how many ways this can be used. I buy it refrigerated and freeze if necessary

Bread crumbs:

Can up any meal if you get bored of the same old

Eggs/milk/oil:

Necessary for a lot of recipes. Eggs can be eaten on their own as well and last a long time in the fridge. I recently learned they can also be cracked and frozen

Pancake mix or ingredients:

Easy tasty meal, stores well

Bacon:

Great side, can make BLTs, added to lunchmeat sandwiches, added to breakfast sandwiches, eaten as a snack :)

Flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, yeast, spices:

If you like to bake like myself, the opportunities are endless here

Fruit:

Bananas can be frozen if you don't eat them in time, and are great for smoothies, pancakes, parfaits, baking, etc. Apples last a long time, can be eaten as a snack with PB. Avocados go with everything. Berries are incredible. Grapes are the best snack. Please be careful and wash your fruit at a time like this. Well and with an antibacterial soap. I actually have a specific produce spray for washing my fruit, but these days I’m disinfecting

Vegetables:

Carrots and celery last forever. Spinach/kale you can buy frozen and add to pasta dishes, smoothies, stir fry, etc. Tomatoes are big in my world, although technically a fruit lol

Potatoes and onions:

Both last forever and can be cooked in so many ways

Batteries

For appliances and remotes and video game controllers

Shampoo/conditioner/shower supplies

Trash bags, cleaning supplies, laundry detergent, dishwasher detergent, sponges, soap, paper products

I hope this helps you think of a few things and prepare if you haven’t already. I’d utilize online shopping if possible. Hungry Harvest ‘rescues’ fruit and vegetables that are surplus, incorrect sizes, or scarred, and are delivered super cheap and farmed locally. They’re in most big cities and surrounding areas, and are so reasonable and convenient! I have a shipment coming Sunday. Butcher Box is pricy but worth it during a national emergency. Grocery stores also often have local delivery options. I find that being prepared makes me feel so much more at ease, because I’ve done everything within my control. Prepare, don’t panic!

[evadne-poventis]

Fred Weasley Fic Part 1

Eva made her way down to the dining hall early that morning, her long deep red hair was piled high into a messy bun. She exited the Ravenclaw common room where she ran into the Weasley twins.

“You’re up early,” she commented, making her way towards them. Typically they never got up earlier than 8, but here they were at 7am, showered and dressed.

“Pancake day,” said George. “you know we have to get the good ones while they’re fresh.”

Eva snorted and shook her head with a smile. “Of course, silly me.”

She linked her arms between the two of them and they made their way down the stone steps.

“Are you going to sit at your own table for once, Ravenclaw?” Fred asked with a bump of the shoulder.

For as long as anyone could remember, Eva always sat with the Gryffindors. She thought it was completely unfair when all the Weasleys were sorted into the same house and she was the only odd one out. Ever since the age of 10, she had lived with the Weasleys when her mother died. Molly and her mother Gwendolyn were childhood friends, and after getting taken in, Eva was practically family, which made it even more frustrating when she was sorted into another house.

Bring the same age as the twins, the three of them has always been particularly close.

“Of course she isn’t,” George answered his twin. “She’s a fake Ravenclaw. A wanna-be-Gryffindor.”

“Okay, okay.” Eva waved off their teasing and they took their usual seats, and a pile of fresh hot cakes appeared infront of them.

They didn’t hesitate to gobble them up before the rest of the school flooded into the hall. It was the last month of school, Eva’s and the twins’ 5th year. She was all prepped for her OWLs (even asking Hermione, a third year for help) but despite the preparation she knew she wouldn’t get top scores by any means. Fred interrupted her thoughts when he flicked her ear. “Earth to Eva, what are you thinking about?”

Eva snapped out of it and turned her gaze to him. “I’m thinking about the exams.”

“Oh please,” George huffed as finished his glass of milk. “You’ll be fine. You always think you won’t pass but then you do.”

“Barely,” Eva pointed out as they started gathering their book bags. Eva was bright in some aspects, like art, and music and divination. Potions and Herbology? Not a chance.

“Big whoop. You just need enough to finish school.” Said Fred with a goofy grin as they left the dining hall.

“One of these years we should just blow off the OWLs.” George said.

Eva sipped around towards him. “Not a chance.”

“You don’t have to, then. Fred and I will.”

Eva let out a sigh. The twins always talked about quitting school and opening up their own joke shop, which she thought was irresponsible and stupid, considering they had no galleons. She loved being apart of their schemes and ideas, but they were on their own with this one.

As for her, she had no idea what she was going to do when school ended. Being a half blood she felt she had the best of both worlds, she could move to London and work as a writer, or perhaps do something in the magic world. Fred and George always seemed so sure of themselves, it made her envy them.

They sat down for potions, and Professor Snape had everyone split off into pairs. Typically the students were allowed to work in groups, but when Eva tried to stay with Fred and George, Snape paired her with a Ravenclaw boy. Xander McCoy. He was a cousin of Cedric Diggory and the two almost looked identical in certain aspects. That’s why it came to no surprise when Eva kept calling him the wrong name throughout the class.

“Ced - I mean Xander pass the mason jar, will you?”

“My name isn’t that hard to remember,” the Ravenclaw boy mumbled with a shake of his head. But how was that Eva’s fault? She had only spoken to Xander twice in the entire time they’ve gone to school together. The tension only increased when he continued to stir the cauldron too quickly, making the sticky potion boil over more than once. Eva looked over to the twins who were behind her. Their cauldron boiled over as well, but at least they looked like they were having fun. Sometimes Eva wished she had a twin. Or a sister even, for that matter. Whenever she saw Fred and George together she couldn’t help feel envious of the incredible close bond they shared. Eva took notice that she’s been envious a lot these days and made a mental note not to turn into a twat.

Finally, after an hour of mixing slimes and goops, potions had ended and Eva skipped merrily to the twins.

“Well, how did it go?”

“Xander McCoy is the worse potions partner ever.” Eva huffed. “I don’t care how cute the other girls think he is. He has no brains when it comes to potions.”

“A Ravenclaw with no brain?” Free raised his eyebrows dramatically. “Golly - thats a first!”

“C’mon, Evangeline.” Said George merrily. “It’s good for you to work with your own people for once.” He said pointing to her bright blue scarf wrapped around her neck.

“Don’t call me that.” she nudged George towards the next class.

They stepped out into the courtyard and Eva inhaled the crisp morning air. It was a nippy day, despite it being almost summer. Dark rain clouds lurked in the background of the school and Eva prayed for a thunder storm.

“Hey, speaking of cute guys.” Fred said clearing his throat before throwing Eva a side glance. “Haven’t heard you talk about Felix in awhile.”

Felix Ray was a boy twice her age in the Hufflepuff house. She absolutely adored him ever since her third year, however the crush began to fade when he failed to take notice of her and instead took notice in a ditzy blonde from Slytherin. It was Eva’s first heartbreak, however she refused to tell that sob story to the twins. “Oh, yeah, him.” She waved him off with a light chuckle. “I almost forgot about him. Turns out he’s an asshole. Did you know he hates cats?”

Fred gave George a knowing glance before turning back to his friend. “He hates cats? That’s why you stopped liking him?”

Eva nodded confidently as they entered the greenhouse for Herbology.

But Fred knew better. “That’s not the reason why. Come on, what happened?”

But suddenly Eva was interrupted when a dark haired girl sat down in her spot next to Fred. It was Angelina Johnson. Eva felt a prickle of annoyance before she sat down next to George instead.

“Hey, guys! Ready for the Quidditch match tomorrow?” She was bubbly this morning. Too bubbly. Eva has always been suspicious of people who were too bubbly first thing in the morning. It just didn’t make sense.

Eventually, Fred and Angelina were paired off, leaving Eva and George together. Well, at least she wasn’t with Xander again.

But as she watched Fred and Angelina become successful with their plant growth she felt the surge of annoyance again. Eva shook her head. She really did have to stop being so envious.

Continued

[justforbooks]

"Led Zeppelin The Forum June 3, 1973

This is based on the fantastic AUD recording, expertly transferred from the JEMS Master - DAT (16/32) source. This is a wonderful audience source, documenting an incredible show.

Some feel this is Led Zeppelin's best performance of the 1973 North American tour.

Hey guys, if you're interested in imagining what it was like to be at this show, I highly encourage you to check out this post by Strider on the Led Zeppelin forum. It is easily the best account of a Zeppelin show I have ever read.

Let's get on the time machine...

Sunday June 3, 1973

I'm flying home from San Francisco to Orange County...a little wobbly after my Kezar Stadium trip, but feeling better the more fluids I drink and the closer I realize I am getting to the appointed hour of my third Led Zeppelin concert in four days.

This Led Zeppelin concert is a little different, however. Not only is this the last show of the first leg of the 1973 US tour, but the last LA show...and who knew when the next tour would be, so this would have to get me through whatever dry spell awaited. Most important of all...I was taking my girlfriend to the show; not only her first Led Zeppelin concert, but her first concert period. That I wanted her to enjoy it was an understatement.

My girlfriend's name was Trudy. She was slightly older than me...11 going on 12...while I wouldn't turn 11 until the next month in July. We met when we were on the same community rec swim team the summer of 72. She also liked baseball and played on the girl's softball team until it became too painful for her(this was before the days of high-tech sports bras). A tomboy, she was like Tatum O'Neal with boobs. Our first date was to an Angel game to see Nolan Ryan pitch.

*Quick digression: baseball games make wonderful first dates. It's not as crowded or noisy as football, basketball, hockey or auto races. And the leisurely pace allows for plenty of conversation time to get to know each other. And if you're lucky to get picked for the "Kiss-Cam", that gives you an excuse for a quick kiss.

Back to Trudy...she was great, except when I met her, her musical tastes ran to America, Bread and Seals & Crofts...the hardest band she liked was Three Dog Night. So it was a long process to get her to like Led Zeppelin, David Bowie, the Stones, Alice Cooper and my other faves. Some she never took to(Frank Zappa, Velvet Underground), but after a few months she finally got hooked into Zeppelin. Of course, it was mainly the softer stuff she liked...Stairway to Heaven, What Is and What Could Never Be, That's the Way. Thank You was her favourite LZ song. And when Houses of the Holy came out, she immediately fell in love with Rain Song. But little by little she came to appreciate the hard rocking songs as well.

All this was on my mind as I rested on the plane-ride home. You see, before I saw Led Zeppelin for the first time in 1972, I had NO IDEA what to expect from a Led Zeppelin concert. I had all four studio albums released at that time, but had yet to acquire any bootlegs. So yes, the effect was fairly shattering when finally seeing my first Zeppelin concert, June 25, 1972. By the time of the 1973 shows though, I had bought two Led Zeppelin bootleg double-albums: Live on Blueberry Hill, the September 4, 1970 Forum show; and Going to California, the Sept. 14 1971 Berkeley show, mislabeled as being at the Forum.

Those two boots, plus the memories of the 1972 shows, instilled in me the idea that the acoustic set was a regular part of a Led Zeppelin concert, and I raved to Trudy about the acoustic set...how they did Going to California and That's the Way, two of her faves. But now I had seen 2 of the 73 concerts, and neither one featured an acoustic set, not even one acoustic song...there didn't appear to be an acoustic guitar in the building. They had played Rain Song, so I knew Trudy would love that, but after building it up in her head, I was worried she would be disappointed if she didn't get an acoustic set. Perhaps, they were saving it for this last concert of the first leg...a special treat for LA. That was one fortunate outcome of Jimmy Page's finger injury: not only was Trudy now able to see the concert, but by moving the concert to June 3, my last Zeppelin memory of 1973 would be crystal clear, unlike the hazy one I had of the Kezar Stadium debauchery.

Shortly after 5pm, the plane descended into Orange County airspace, glistening swimming pools dotting the landscape, the brown smog bank of the Inland Empire off in the distance. There they were, my BB and Trudy, my sun-dappled girl, waiting for me as arranged. To save time, I gave him Trudy's address so he could pick her up before meeting me at the airport. Then we could just drive straight up the 405 to the LA Forum. So, after a brief wait for my luggage, there the three of us were in my BB's blue 1969 Chevy Malibu, him driving, and Trudy and I in the backseat. Making the long slog north on the 405, joining thousands of others making the drive from San Diego back to Los Angeles, I filled Trudy and the BB in on my San Francisco trip, not exactly revealing EVERYTHING. Trudy wasn't a party-stoner girl, and I didn't want her to get the wrong idea about me. The BB and I answered questions she had about the concert; she was excited when I told her that it was pretty certain that they would play Rain Song. But I also said that they hadn't played Thank You, and she looked bummed about that...but hey, I said, you never know what they'll play for sure. Maybe tonight they'll play it.

A quick pit stop for gas and a bite to eat at Tijuana Taco(don't ask...just slightly better than Taco Bell...they shut down later in the 70's when employees were caught selling drugs thru the drive-thru window), and we were back on the 405, past the Westminster Mall, past Seal Beach then Long Beach, until nearing LAX airport, and the giant Randy's Donut Donut marking the Manchester Blvd. exit. It must have been around 7pm, as we drove east on Manchester, past La Brea and Market, past the A-Frame International House of Pancakes on the left at Hillcrest, past the usual shady characters holding up "Need tickets" signs. This time we turned right on Prairie, then left into the Forum parking lot, the Forum Club awning up ahead. It was still plenty light outside, a pleasant June evening, and as usual for a rock concert, the parking lot was a bazaar of the bizarre. A panoply of colourful types everywhere you looked.

Thanks to my uncle's wife washing my clothes while sleeping off my trip in San Francisco, I was wearing my burgundy velvet hip-hugger bell-bottoms and yellow 1973 Zeppelin tour shirt. But I saw a bootleg parking lot shirt I liked and bought one for me and Trudy...total cost $4.

There was a long line to get in the Forum, so we headed to one of the special entrances for people with floor seats. Yeah, I had almost forgotten...after 4 previous Led Zeppelin concerts spent in loge or bleacher seating, I was finally going to be near the stage, 13 rows from the front, on the floor, looking at the stage head on. No side or obstructed views this time. I was already stoked...this sudden realization of where we would be sitting further stoked my fire. So eager with anticipation we fairly glided through the narrow tunnel into the Forum floor, past the massive soundboard/mixing desk towards the rear and past the rear sections of the floor, approaching the stage closer and closer until we came to our destination: Section B, Row 13. It did feel weird looking at our tickets and seeing the date May 30. The time once again said 8:00 pm...but we told Trudy that was more a "suggested" time than a firm commitment.

That allowed for plenty of time for concert prep...last-minute bathroom visits, stock up on snacks and coke and back to our seats with plenty of time to watch the roadies fine-tune the stage as the Doobie Brothers and Yes played over the sound system. Although the music wasn't nearly as loud as the concert would be, I gave Trudy the earplugs the BB had brought for her, as we didn't want her first concert to be too painful...I mean, Led Zeppelin were LOUD...VERY LOUD!

Being so close to the stage, you notice details you can't see from far away...the details of the amp setups...Jimmy's simple effects setup...Jones' keyboards and the white mellotron...Bonzo's orange Ludwig vistalites. In fact, I noticed that if you took away the gong and tympani, his drum kit was actually quite small compared to the gargantuan kits of Carl Palmer, Keith Moon and Ginger Baker. Just a bass drum, snare, one rack tom and two floor toms, that's it. Yet, in Bonham's talented hands, that kit sounded more MASSIVE than Carl, Keith and Ginger's kits combined.

Ooooh, there was the big mirror ball high above Bonzo's kit...I pointed it out to Trudy. She also noticed with some trepidation and awe the huge PA speaker stacks...courtesy of Showco. As roadies climbed roped rigging ladders to fix the various spotlights and whatnot, I sensed a different vibe in the Forum tonight from the Bonzo Birthday Party show. Yes, the audience for that show was excited...it was the first night and it was Bonzo's birthday, so we were hyped. But as shouts of "Led Zeppelin!" and "Rock and Roll!" and "Whole Lotta Love!" echoed around the arena, as frisbees and beach balls whizzed and bounced around, the anticipation and buzz of the audience seemed torqued to a higher degree. With the benefit of hindsight, I think I know why. First, the June 3 show was originally supposed to be the first show...and anyone who has been to multinight stands knows that the first night crowd often has the hard core fans. We were the "real" first night crowd, not the May 31 crowd. Second, that May 31 show was so amazing that obviously word-of-mouth spread. Folks heard how awesome the May 31 concert was, so everyone was at fever pitch for tonight's gig...both the people who were there May 31 and were expecting more of the same, and those who just heard about it and couldn't wait to experience it themselves. If you've ever been to a concert by your favourite band, you know the feelings you go through right before the band comes on: the butterflies in your stomach, the calculations in your mind at what the first song will be and what the setlist will entail. How you literally cannot breathe from excitement.

Well, take all that and multiply by 10 and you'll get an idea how feverish the crowd was for this Led

Zeppelin concert was...if someone had thrown raw meat into the crowd, it would have been devoured. Hell, I feared if one of the roadies had fallen into the crowd, he'd be torn limb from limb. The beast was getting hungry...we wanted Zeppelin. At any bit of lull from the sound system, any break from the music, a great hue and cry went up from the throng in anticipation of the band coming on stage. At long last however, after several false moments, sometime around 9ish, the Forum went dark as the house lights went down.

CUE PANDEMONIUM!!! I am serious. Sure, every Zeppelin concert I attended the crowd would greet the band loudly, as loud as any concerts I have seen. But the concert of June 3, 1973 was something else entirely...it was like RAPTURE! People stomping their feet, ecstatically screaming, firecrackers exploding...the only other time I experienced this frenzied a response was the June 21, 1977 show.

In the dark, periodically illuminated by flashes and lit lighters, we could make out the shapes of the band members making their way on stage. As the stomping and hollering from the crowd continued, Bonham gave a quick test of the drums and soon after, the Little Richard-tribute drum intro to Rock and Roll commenced the beginning of the show as the stage exploded to brightness as the stage lights came on the same time as the band kicked into the main riff of Rock and Roll.

Oh shit Dorothy, we're not in Kansas anymore. Being on the floor is a completely different deal. The loudness is even more LOUD...IN YOUR FACE...AND IN YOUR GUT!!! Especially Bonzo's kick drum and Jonesey's bass. I looked over at Trudy and thanked my lucky stars we had thought of bringing earplugs for Trudy...she had been gripping my hand since the Forum lights went down, but as I looked at her she smiled and signaled she was okay. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene in front of us, and I returned my gaze to the stage. From behind the kit, Bonzo looked like he was wearing the same pastel tanktop, or wifebeater, as before. John Paul Jones was wearing some multicoloured button-down shiny shirt with these fantastic flash silver bell bottoms. Simply extraordinary...he should've worn them for the MSG shows! Unfortunately, being close to the stage allowed me to see Jones' mustache more clearly...he just didn't look right with that mustache. Jimmy Page was wearing the same natty white double-breasted suit as he did at Kezar. With the black and white shoes. His hair looked healthy and fluffy, the coloured lights giving it different hued highlights throughout the night.

Then, there was Robert Plant. Golden God. Golden, flaxen hair flowing down past his shoulders, the lights amplifying the golden hue of his curly locks. Long, lean and tanned body encased in skintight flared blue jeans and a pinkish-red shirt, more masculine than his usual 1973 blousey-type tops, but with just enough femininity to give Plant that otherworldly, ethereal sexual charisma he, and only he among the 70's frontmen, had. No, not even David Bowie or Freddie Mercury had it...David was too drugged out and sickly thin and Freddie too campy with his "Al Pacino in Cruising" look. To top it off, Robert had a red flower(a rose?) stuffed down his pants, so that the flower was just over his belt buckle.

And because we were now looking straight ahead and up at the stage, and not down from afar as before at other shows, the band, particularly Jimmy and Robert since they were closest to the front, appeared 10 feet tall. Like they truly were gods descended from Mount Olympus to bestow upon us mere mortals their immortal musical alchemy. As Rock and Roll progressed, with Jimmy doing his signature Rock and Roll stagger step, Trudy and I were hopping up and down on our seats, standing on our seats the only way we could see over the grownups in front of us. After the guitar solo, when Jimmy did his little leap, Trudy and I jumped as well, as various girls around us squealed. That's another thing I noticed being down front...lots of teenage flesh in hotpants and platforms. But let's get back to the music...

Rock and Roll was at it's end, Bonham flailing away like Animal of the Muppets during the final drum flurry, which leads to the rousing fanfare into Jimmy's solo intro to Celebration Day, notes flashing fast and furious from his vintage Les Paul. THIS was one of the moments I was already anticipating, for the previous 2 Zeppelin concerts had proven how great, and underrated, a song Celebration Day was in concert.

Tonight was no different...as Jimmy's opening guitar shot rapid fire notes, and Robert intones the opening lines, the song builds to that slight hesitation as Robert sings "and she wonders pretty soon everybody's gonna KNOWWWW" and then Bonzo, Jones and Jimmy SLAM into the song in total force, and the impact is UN-FUCKING-REAL!!!

Try to picture this in your mind...Bonzo and Jones are laying down this MASSIVE volcanically-erupting groove, Jonesy's bass inhabiting your bones, while Bonzo's drums wallop your guts, all the while he's staring intently at Jimmy, his mouth popping open from time to time like he's chewing gum and his head jerking with each accent of the beat. Meanwhile, Jimmy is slinking around the stage, guitar slung low, while carving out that ridiculously sexy funky Celebration Day riff. It's not that there's anything wrong with Rock and Roll, although even then it sounded slower in concert than on record, with Robert's vocals not as manic as the studio version, but Celebration Day, for me, is when the enormity of the concert hit me. The song seemed faster and more high energy than Rock and Roll.

And it was somewhere during Celebration Day that I lost it. How can I explain it to you? There isn't a bootleg in the world that can replicate the sound, the experience. Jimmy's guitar is sounding like 100 chainsaws carving that riff into your head...the bass and drums are exploding into your spine causing you to spontaneously jerk and dance about. The overwhelming loudness of the sound envelops you, harmonic overtones, that no bootleg can pick up, merging to create new tones and notes, raising the hair on your arms and sending tingles up and down your spine. On top of the the force of the groove and the sound, is the visual impact of Robert and Jimmy swaggering, thrusting, dancing across the stage...their movements somtimes in tandem, sometimes on their own, yet still strangely in sympatico with each other; the yin and yang. As Robert's voice, by now warmed up from the rough Rock and Roll opening, wails over the musical onslaught, and Jimmy's guitar cuts like a knife sharper than Bryan Adams will ever know, Jimmy struts to the front of the stage and I half expect him to just keep walking off the stage into the air above us. That is when I just erupt in tears of joy. I couldn't help it...I'm with my girlfriend and the band is sounding so good and they are fucking rocking the stage like they OWN IT! None of this tentative squirreling about like some bands. And Celebration Day is KICKING SO MUCH ASS! I tell you, I was in a state of happiness, of TOTAL BLISS, that the waterworks just flowed and flowed. I hugged Trudy and gave my BB a high-five as CD came to an end much too soon...they could have kept that groove going for another 10 minutes as far as I was concerned. And they should have made Celebration Day a permanent part of the setlist from 1971 on, I'm my opinion.

No time for dillydallying, Jimmy immediately slides into the Bring It On Home riff after CD...and Robert promises all the ladies in the house he's going to make them sweat and groove, as the band lurches into the serpentine riff of Black Dog, the third all-out hard rocker in a row to open the show. I always preferred the Bring It On Home riff as an opener to Black Dog to the Out on the Tiles riff, and here's why. With the Bring it riff, the segue to Black Dog seemed smoother. Also, I didn't particularly want to hear the actual song Bring It On Home, by then having grown bored with the early blues covers like Bring It and You Shook Me, so I liked when they shifted into Black Dog. But Out on the Tiles is one of my favourite songs, especially after hearing it on the Live on Blueberry Hill bootleg. So everytime they would play that opening riff to Out on the Tiles, I would get excited they were going to play the whole song. So I actually would feel a twinge of disappointment when they would go into Black Dog instead. C'mon guys, just ONCE gimme Out on the Tiles!

Black Dog swaggers to a close, Jimmy bringing the song to an end with a blazing run, and just like that, the opening three song assault is over, and us fans have a chance to cheer and welcome the band back to LA, as Robert says good evening and goes into one of his plantations, none of which I recall. It's funny, but even more so than in the stands, people down front yell all sorts of stuff at the band, thinking they're so close the band will hear them and respond. Greetings, requests...some musical, some sexual...non sequiters, all manner of nonsense is shouted at the band as a whole and at individual members; Jimmy and Robert topping the list, natch.

Another thing you notice up front is all the stuff that gets thrown on stage that the roadies periodically have to clear off. Joints, wadded balls of paper(notes, I presume), cards, flowers, candy, popcorn, items of clothing(some intimate)...it's quite a sight and probably quite a haul by the end of the night. Fortunately, Trudy refrained from throwing any clothing.

Jimmy took this time to remove his jacket, revealing an orange-red striped button-down shirt with black cuffs that I don't think I've seen him wear before...or since. In fact, both Jimmy and Robert are wearing shirts that I've hardly seen pop up in photographs other than in photos of tonight's gig.

With jacket removed, and Robert's introduction over, the folky beginning of Over the Hills and Far Away begins, as Jimmy's sweet cherry red Les Paul tone lulls you into a state of mellowness, as Robert sings to his lady...then WHAM! The volume increases ten-fold, and again, one of those ingenious simple-sounding yet complex riffs grabs hold of you, while Bonzo lays down a beat that at first seems at odds with the riff, but gradually reveals itself to be a marvel of deep-in-the-pocket groove. In fact, OTHAFA is one of those songs that was fun to watch the band play in concert. Jimmy hunched over, jerking his body to the riff, while Bonzo and Jones watched each other, working over the changes as Jimmy solo'd stratospherically over the top. Robert by now would throw in his Acapulco Gold aside to knowing looks and laughs among the stoners in the audience.

After the song drew to its languorous close, Jimmy bathed in deep blue light, I checked with Trudy to make sure she was okay...that it wasn't too loud or if she needed to rest. Before the concert, we said that we would stay to the end, but if she needed to go to the rest room, I would escort her, and if she got tired, she could sit and if possible, nap in her seat. So far, she was A-OK, thumbs-up, all systems go! Which was fine by me, as we were coming to another highlight of the show for me: the Misty Mountain Hop/Since I've Been Loving You tandem, signaled by Jones removing his bass and walking over to our left and sitting down at his keyboards, face-forward to the crowd, while Jimmy switched from the red Les Paul w/ black pickups to his customary Les Paul Sunburst.

Hippie funk-groove, followed by the sweeping, cinematic English blues drama of SIBLY. As the band charged into Misty Mountain Hop, the vibe of the show kept elevating...so many people dancing and smiling and having a goodtime. Apparently enpugh people in the crowd had experienced getting hassled by the cops over rolling papers to the point that the entire Forum wanted to escape to the Misty Mountains. Once again, the sound is massive, as Jimmy Page's guitar is in your face. Robert is doing all his hippie dances and wiggles across the stage while Jones' funky Fender Rhodes gives the song its colour. But it is Bonham who really drives the song, his every beat of the drum a mighty wallop, with the most awesome snare sound I've yet to hear...crisp, deep and resonant. Fill after fill with perfect timing electrifies the song until the final riff explodes, as Jimmy hits a switch and the guitar increases 10-fold in intensity and Bonzo does what seems like one continuous, roiling fill until the band reaches the point where it suddenly STOPS!

Leaving Jimmy to bend and sway as his fingers traverse the neck of his guitar, notes flying left and right until he slows into those familar notes that shift the band into Since I've Been Loving You. As the crowd howls in delight, especially the blues fans and guitar players amongst us, many of the crowd also begins to sit down, and Trudy is one of them, so I sit down with her. We still have some of our coke left and as we quench our thirst, I ask how she is liking the show so far. "Too much...it's far out", she replies. I put my arm around her as we settle in our chairs and watch the drama unfolding on stage. SIBLY is one of those moments where Jimmy trancends mere musicianship. He's not merely playing guitar, but making the guitar speak, as if the guitar itself had a soul. Or put another way, it's as if Jimmy and his Les Paul were fused into one, as if the guitar was just another extension of his body.

One thing I noticed with Jimmy Page, especially during SIBLY, is that he adjusted his tone and volume knobs on his guitar more than anybody I'd ever seen. Some guitarists I saw wouldn't touch their knobs once during an entire concert. Whereas Jimmy was constantly fiddling with the knobs, fipping the toggle switch...anything to create the variety of tones and sounds that emanated from his guitar. Considering the simplicity of his effects(compare his stage setup in 1973 to today's array of stompboxes taped down in front of every guitarists stage monitor), it's amazing the wide variety of sounds he got out of his guitar.

Again, just to listen is not enough, nor are pictures sufficient to suggest the total charasmatic effect that Jimmy playing the guitar on stage renders on you. And I fear my words fail to accurately portray the devastating impact of Pagey with a guitar. It goes beyond the way Jimmy moves and dances on stage, which is already beyond compare. Not Keith Richards, not Chuck Berry, not Richie Blackmore, not Mick Ralphs. Certainly not Clapton or Iommi, both of whom stand still as statues, making a guitar grimace once in a while. Pete Townshend is the only contemporary who comes close, and his vibe is more "athletic" with his jumps and windmills. Jimmy's vibe is more sinuous and sexy. His ability to dance and swagger and weave across the stage, while his slender frame is weighed down by some of the heaviest guitars in the business, the solid-body Les Paul and the Gibson doubleneck, is incredible enough. The fact that he often skitters across on one foot is miraculous and warrants comparison to James Brown. You think I'm kidding? Well, I'm not...if only someone would have filmed Jimmy at a 1973 concert, just focusing on his feet, you would be talking about his footwork with awe. To see it up close was breathtaking. But what truly made Jimmy a guitar god and sexually charasmatic to everyone in the arena no matter their sex or sexual orientation was the way he danced with his guitar while his feet were dancing upon the stage. Start with the fact that nobody wore his guitar slung as low as Jimmy. NOBODY. Most guitarists had their guitars strapped pretty high, which is the best position for clean, fast playing: Steve Howe, Richie Blackmore, Frank Zappa, the Grateful Dead guys...all guys who strapped it high. Keith Richards and Pete Townshend had theirs a little lower than that, but still nowhere near as low as Jimmy. And I'm sure Jimmy sacrificed some speed and accuracy having his guitar so low...that can't have been good for his wrist and shoulder. But I'll be damned if in 1973 I could tell for he sure sounded fast and accurate enough to me. And that was while he was doing electric gyrations across the stage. When he deigned to stand still like during Rain Song, he sounded as clean as his studio performances. But Jimmy wasn't built to stand still...he used his body to transmit to the audience every electric charge he was feeling through the music. Every whiplash chord, every sinewy solo, transmuted his body. At any given moment, he would swing his guitar away from his body, or hold it aloft with his right arm extended upwards to form a "V". He would be hunched over dramatically studiously focused on the fretboard, or gracefully arched back, back nearly parallel to the ground, while pulling of a solo. Or there were those tender moments, often during SIBLY, when he would pull the guitar up gently in a nearly vertical position, as if he were cradling a baby or a woman, and coax the most beautiful tones out of his instrument. It was a pas de deux between man and guitar and it was mesmerizing, both aurally and visually, beyond compare.

It was Godhead...sheer and utter GODHEAD! But while I was transfixed by the moans and groans emitting from Jimmy's guitar, my girlfriend Trudy was enraptured by something equally as powerful and potent: Robert Plant. Six feet of tanned, blond, British sex-on-two-legs. For while Page's guitar was emoting its way through SIBLY, so was Plant doing his moaning and groaning, while doing his mic stand parry-and-thrusting...sometimes hanging on and gripping the mic so tightly, you thought he would crush it. As Plant and Page engaged in their signature banter, with each seeking to echo and underscore what the other was doing, until both vocal and guitar lines were intertwined, the slow-burn drama of the song began to build towards that crucial hypnotic part right after the guitar solo. When I turned to look at Trudy, she had a look on her face that suggested she was transfixed. Not exactly a 1000 yard stare, she was keenly focused on Mr. Plant, a broad smile creasing her face until later in the song, she was just frozen in open-mouth wonderment. You know that scene in The Song Remains the Same movie, where that beautiful hooded girl breaks into a smile during SIBLY, overcome by the power of the song? That's what it was like watching Trudy during SIBLY. I can't say if it was the best SIBLY I ever saw...I tend to be partial to the SIBLY's where JPJ uses the Hammond B3 organ. But it was plenty emotional and definitely up there with the best.

Now came the Houses of the Holy trilogy of mood: the gloomy winter of No Quarter; summery surge of The Song Remains the Same; and pastoral spring of the Rain Song.

As Jones remained at the keyboards, the fog rolled in off the stage as Jones sounded the opening notes. It was incredible from this vantage point. It seemed at times as if the whole band would be swallowed up by the bank of fog, the stage lights giving it a haunting glow. I don't see how Jimmy could find his wahwah pedal in all that smoke. Speaking of Jimmy, this is one of those songs from Houses of the Holy that, while sounding perfectly okay on record, took on an extra depth, energy and power in concert. Jimmy's riff especially gained depth in concert. On the record, it's suitably fuzzy and kind of jazzy...but it lacks heft. The riff sounds thi and barely there. But not in concert. Once Jimmy stomps on his Crybaby, the riff CRUSHES your skull and you find yourself alone in the snowy, wintery night, chased by the dogs of doom. The sound of the song is MASSIVE...yet you look on stage, and there's ONLY THREE GUYS making this simultaneously huge, yet subtle and colourfully varied sound. No backing tapes or backup musicians a la the Who or Queen. No other 4-piece (which basically was a trio instrumentally, with a vocalist), could equal Zeppelin's sound in 1973. Black Sabbath? HA! Nice try, but ultimately a one-trick pony, and not helped at all by a shoddy muddy sound system.

To watch Led Zeppelin in concert was to be reminded once again of the mathematical trueism: the sum is greater than the parts. While each member of Led Zeppelin was spectacularly proficient on his individual instrument, it was the spontaneous combustion when they got together, the sum total of their talents, the off-the-charts group chemistry they had that made Led Zeppelin special.

Let's face it...Led Zeppelin was playing the same notes, the same blues scales as many other bands. But their talent and sheer force of personality made it appear to the audience that we were hearing these sounds for the first time. They sounded fresh and new the way Zeppelin played them, while Grand Funk, Deep Purple, Uriah Heap, and Sabbath sounded old and stodgy after awhile.

It was during No Quarter, as the lights turned blue and the band worked into the jam groove, that you noticed another singular element about Led Zeppelin...it wasn't so much notes they played, but colours and emotion. Bands like Emerson Lake and Palmer and Deep Purple would show off their instrumental chops and I wouldn't feel anything other than an overwhelming urge to chop off Keith Emerson's hands or knock Richie Blackmore's scowl off his face. With Zeppelin, their jams created a mood, an emotion tied to the song and to some distant yearning in the listener. Time stopped and you felt transported.

Jimmy remembered the second part of the solo, unlike San Francisco, and it was during the latter part of the song that we got the first taste of Jimmy's Theremin, accenting the howls of the dogs of doom. Followed by Jimmy going crazy on the wahwah. As was usual by now on the 73 tour, the song engendered a standing ovation. Trudy and I, along with most of the crowd, had spent SIBLY and No Quarter sitting down, but now were on our feet roaring. And as Jonesy took his bows, and moved to put his Fender bass back on, and Jimmy strapped on his iconic Gibson EDS-1275 12- and 6-string double-neck guitar...red body with black pickguard, thank you very much...I knew we wouldn't be sitting down soon. For by now I knew it was too early for Stairway to Heaven. Besides, with Jones on bass, that meant it was time for the rush of sound that was The Song Remains the Same.

Robert was doing an introduction to the song, and I believe he mentioned Rolling Stone magazine sarcastically...which I think he also did at Kezar. It seems Rolling Stone compared Led Zeppelin unfavourably to Slade, which when you think about it sounds ludicrous. But then, that's where Rolling Stone's head was at at the time. I mean, Slade had some moments but to put them in the same league as Zeppelin was laughable.

So, 1-2-3-4-GO! And The Song Remains the Same blasts us in the face, Bonzo's galloping beats and JPJ's rubberband-man bouncing bass lines underpinning the chiming bells of Jimmy's 12-string guitar. It's such a warm, beautiful sound...those ringing, chiming bells; what a TONE!

Then again, there's the magical, indescribable sight of skinny Jimmy, huge doubleneck strapped to his thin frame, weaving and bobbing around the stage, somehow managing to avoid crashing into the drums or decapitating Plant with his guitar. The song is so joyous to hear and see performed, that I'm almost moved to tears of joy again. Trudy and I are boogieing on our seats, as is my BB. The smells of cannabis and hash are in the air, but whether it's because I've built up a resistance or what, I don't really feel affected by it. The groove of the song is IMMENSE and INFECTIOUS! And the camaraderie among the band is evident, with Robert, Jimmy, John and Bonzo exchanging winks and smiles like they were the coolest boy's club in the world. Watching them, I want in...I want to play guitar like Jimmy Page and start a band. That becomes fixed in my brain as the state of supreme happiness.

When Robert sings "California sunlight", I cannot help but beam with state pride...California's mentioned in a Led Zeppelin song! I also notice something else...I prefer Robert's vocals on this song in concert than the helium vocals on the record. The Song Remains the Same is hurtling along, pell-mell, taking the crowd along in its frenzy. Shit is flying through the air and we're all just along for the ride. The song at once sounds tight and together and about to come apart at the seams. It's like Bonzo said "alright, everybody go on the count of 3, and meet you at the finish!"

The song comes to its end so quickly that you barely get your breath back before the sweet, lilting sound of Jimmy on the 6-string rings in the opening of Rain Song, as the bright lights dim to blue. FYI, Jimmy looks gorgeously spectral in this light. Now, I knew Rain Song followed TSRTS, but Trudy didn't, so as I knew she liked the song, I couldn't wait to see her reaction when the song began. She gave my hand an extra tight squeeze, and as everybody was sitting down again, as I sat down she sat on my lap and gave me a hug and whispered "thank you" in my ear. Again, Robert's vocals were perfect...so tender and filled with sincere emotion. I know some people think he lost it after 1972, but on some songs he sang better than ever. Immigrant Song might have been beyond his reach at this point, but he nailed all the Houses of the Holy songs.

As Jimmy and Jones, who now was seated at his white Mellotron facing right towards Jimmy and Bonzo, began the langorous instrumental interlude after Robert's opening verses, Trudy turned to me and kissed me deeply...and we kept kissing...and kissing all the way through til when the song gets to the rocking middle part. Everybody who has been to a concert with their significant other has had a moment like that. It's a memory emblazoned on my brain and one I will never forget. Whenever I hear Rain Song, I think back to that kiss.

As Jimmy delicately finger picks the closing arpeggios, and Plant brings the song to a rousing finish with a final wail, we are on our feet again giving the band another well-deserved standing ovation. People, mostly the girls, are shouting endearments to the band, as piercing whistles echo through the arena and bics flicker and glow in the darkness. Jimmy takes a bow and nods to the audience before handing his doubleneck to Raymond, his Scottish guitar roadie. As Robert also acknowledges the crowd, and the multifaceted Jones once again switches instruments, Jimmy rolls up his right sleeve. For now it's time to really get to work.

As Jimmy straps on his trusty Les Paul, Robert gives an introduction about an oldie...then only a single spotlight on Jones as the doomladened notes of his bass sound the beginning of "Dazed and Confused", in 1973 still one of the most anticipated songs of the night. A whoosh of expectation rushes through the crowd, as Jimmy sounds the first opening squeal of his guitar, heralded by a flash of smoke and fire and deep dark red lights. As Jimmy manipulates the sound of his guitar via his wahwah and and bending the strings behind the tuning peg, the mood turns positively evil. Is this the SAME BAND that just moments ago had transported us to a serene English meadow?

Okay, I have to confess I didn't like the way Robert sang Dazed and Confused in 1973...and 75 as well. Too much unnecessary squealing and changing the lyrics. Saying "I wanna make love to you little girl 25...25...25" over and over was annoying. It's a hoary blues cliche. Wished he would've stayed with the original "will your tongue wag so much when I send you the bill".

But the opening verses pass quickly enough, and 1973 is the last year where Jimmy really hits the vibrato during the chorus riff. Now it's on through the new segment developed for 1973, the fast solo and riffing bit leading into the "San Francisco" segment. I looked over at Trudy and she was still hanging in there. The band was cooking until suddenly it stopped and Jimmy shifted gears and began picking out the most beautifully melancholy melody I've ever heard. The genius of this band to just nonchalantly spring into a riff that other bands would kill for. As we all know by now, that riff was later used as part of "Achilles Last Stand", which I suppose is one reason why Dazed was dropped after 1975...although the band could've just dropped the "San Francisco/Woodstock" segment.

But as much as I love "Achilles", I feel that riff was most effective in the live Dazed and Confused's. It

felt more naked and vulnerable...more haunting. As Jimmy played the riff, and Jones and Bonzo figured out when to come in with the beat, Robert sang the lyrics to "San Francisco", the Scott McKenzie song I barely remembered from Monterey Pop. Then as Jimmy leaned on his wahwah and played that phasing sawing riff, Robert added his spectral moans courtesy of his echoplex.

Before you knew it, Jimmy was headed towards his wall of amps, and the moment everybody was looking forward to was at hand...Jimmy had the cello bow in his hand.

At first, as Jimmy applied the heavily rosined bow strings to his guitar, Jones and Bonzo gave light accompaniment, but soon they stopped as the stage darkened with the lights only on Jimmy. Now the bow segment began in earnest, as the most unearthly, loud, resonating howl emerged from the depths of hell. Then, as he began the part where he slaps, or whips the bow against the pickups, and pointing the bow in the direction the sound was reflecting, people began to lose their minds. The lights flashed and changed colour with every slap of the bow...blue, red, yellow, green, orange...as Jimmy pointed left, right, front, back with his bow, bow strings shredding, directing the sound around the arena. Then, the coup des grâce..the lights begin flashing rapidfire as shapes flicker in the background as Jimmy whips his guitar mercilessly, bow strings breaking and flailing everywhere, people in the front row trying to grasp the falling strands. It is one of the most indelible concert moments I've ever seen and heard. By this time Jimmy seemed 10-feet tall, and held complete command of all of us. But he was just beginning.

As he began bowing a spooky, scary-movie motif, I looked at Trudy and saw that she was sitting down, holding her hands over her ears, even with her earplugs already in...this was too much for her to take at her first concert. But like a trouper, she endured it with no complaint, unlike some other girls I took to concerts. One thing people often forget about the bow segment, is that it wasn't just about Jimmy. Depending on how inspired he felt, Robert would also contribute to the sound-orgy by adding his echoplexed melismic moans and howls to Jimmy's bow screeches. With the lightshow getting weirder and weirder, with trippy shapes and shadows projected onto Jimmy Page, the mood of the whole piece attained a level of evil dread that Black Sabbath could only dream of reaching. Every time I saw Black Sabbath, I could never take their attempts to be dark and evil seriously...mainly because Ozzy was such a ridiculous frontman. He was like a hyperactive frog.

As the bow segment reached it's climax, and Jimmy unleashed the hounds of hell, the sound began to drive you mad...you can't imagine how loud and shrill it was. Nor the white noise harmonic overtones that added to the texture of the sound. By now, Jimmy was frantically rubbing his fingers up and down the strings from the neck of his guitar to the pickups, while sawing his bow, with barely any strings left. With his hand rubbing more violently, I feared he was going to slice his hand on the strings. Bonzo joined in the final unholy climax of noise, and as Jimmy threw the bow away, the band got ready to gallop into the marathon jam, with Bonzo, Jones, and Jimmy hitting a few preparatory power chords before launching into the first fast guitar solo section familiar from the album version. From here the song becomes KINETIC personified. Behind the drums, Bonzo is hammering away at a racehorse pace, head snapping at the beat, each strike of the kick drum knocking you for a loop. Meanwhile, Jones is rolling through that endlessly looping bassline at inhuman speed, using just his fingers...NO PICK! Then there's Jimmy, strafing the audience with blitzkrieg runs up and down the neck of his guitar...how his guitar is still in tune after the violent lovemaking he gave it during the bow segment is beyond me. And don't forget Robert...he's not taking a break during this jam, either. Whether engaging in call-and-responses with Jimmy, or boogieing along to the music, Robert was a lion on the prowl.

As the band worked through the different changes, Jimmy, Bonham and Jones watching and listening to each other for the various cues, the incredible stamina of the band hit me with the force of a Bonham beat. Here we were, nearing the 90 minute mark, and while most bands would just be wrapping up their shows by now, Led Zeppelin were just getting started, savagely attacking their instruments with godlike intensity. The Rolling Stones would already be in their limos heading out of the Forum parking lot.

But Led Zeppelin asked no quarter...and they gave no quarter. When you entered a Led Zeppelin concert, you were entering a test of extreme stamina and emotions. Led Zeppelin was body music to the extreme, but it was also music for the head and psyche. After a Zeppelin concert, not only would your body feel pummeled, but your psyche, emotions and senses felt like they'd been put through the wringer. It was total immersion.

The boys were winging their way through the various twists and turns of the Dazed and Confused jam, Jimmy and Bonzo taking delight in prodding each other. My girlfriend had decided to take it all in sitting down...the storm of sound that is Dazed and Confused was a bit much for her. Baby steps I thought to myself...everything in good time. By now, sweat was flying off Jimmy's hair everytime he whipped around. I wouldn't be surprised if the people in the front row got sprinkled with a bit of holy sweat. As Jimmy navigated the twists and turns and dips and dives of the jam, he pulled out all the stops. Electro-stagger steps...laybacks...whirls and twirls...chicken dances. He was everything you want a guitar-hero to be...and his boundless energy was stunning to behold.

1973 was the last year I truly enjoyed Dazed and Confused from start to finish. In 1975, while I liked parts of Dazed, I found the energy of the piece as a whole, flagged at times...sometimes even coming to a complete halt. In 1973, the energy was NON-STOP! Like I said, it was a ocean of sound, a storm of sensory overload battering the senses. A complete contrast, say, to the jam in No Quarter. No Quarter was more a study in the use of space in a jam, Jonesey's piano, Jimmy's guitar, and Bonham's drums working off each other's tangents. Dazed and Confused was more about exploring every riff's possibility for themes and variations. That's why there's enough good riffs in Dazed and Confused to create 6 or 7 new songs.

Then, as if that wasn't enough, as the band comes to the end of the song, where any normal band would hurry to the finish, Led Zeppelin find one last spark of inspiration and take the audience on one last stratospheric jam...Bonzo and Jones engaging in a funky, bouncy round-and-round groove, while Jimmy goes in wahwah hyperspace. Just when you think the song couldn't last any longer, you're engrossed and groovin' to this spacey jam and you think to yourself that you wouldn't mind the jam going on for a while. Several minutes later, Bonzo's flying fists of fury are flailing around his kit at supersonic speed, and 30-some-odd minutes later, Dazed and Confused comes to an end. The band and audience both seem half- euphoric and half-exhausted. Jimmy smilingly accepts the hosannas of the rabid crowd. Again, the intensity and vibe of the crowd tonight seems 10 times the previous shows, which in turn seems to be inspiring the band to greater heights.

More Plantations follow, as Jimmy once again straps on the Gibson doubleneck, and Jones sits again at the Mellotron. I can't remember exactly when during the concert Plant made these remarks, but I know he mentioned Jimmy's hand injury and how he had been soaking it in a bucket of ice-cold water ever since the injury. He also said something to the effect of "you shouldn't be here tonight and we should be in England", in reference to the May 30 show being rescheduled for June 3.

Robert Plant's relaxed remarks and calm control of the stage revealed another reason why Plant was such a singular presence in the 70's. Apart from his sexual charisma and primal rock voice, it was refreshing to have a frontman from England that you could understand when he talked between songs. I couldn't understand half of what Mick Jagger or Ozzy Osbourne were talking about when they bantered between songs. Of course, it didn't help that they were yelling half the time. Which brings me to another plus about Plant...he wasn't a hype-meister who condescended to the crowd. Robert could talk and joke with the crowd with a quiet confidence, a relaxed nature that made a show feel intimate even though there were 18,000 other people in the room. And if he wanted quiet, he wasn't afraid to issue a curt "shut up a tic" to the crowd. Most frontmen so want to be liked that they're afraid of saying anything that would piss off the audience. But the quality I most admired in Robert was his refusal to be a hype-meister and phony. Mick Jagger and Ozzy Osbourne being two examples of the above. Mick and Ozzy found it necessary to constantly harangue the audience to make some noise and go crazy, always yelling, Yelling, YELLING at the audience. It's like they didn't trust the music to excite us, they had to whip us up in a frenzy like they were working a circus sideshow. It became annoying after a while. Sorry Mick and Ozzy, I don't always have to be jumping up and down and waving my hands in the air to have a good time. Sometimes I just want to be still and concentrate on the music. They are like the precursors to today's rap hype-men. Robert trusted Led Zeppelin's music to do the talking. He didn't need to scream the cliché "Are you ready to rock, Cleveland?" or the equally hoary "make some noise!"

Plus, the guy was gorgeous with the most amazing head of hair in rock history. I put it to you that no other rock frontman could have worn those flowery, feminine blouses that Plant wore, and still retain the masculine sexuality that Plant did. And Plant was sly enough, and confident enough in his masculinity, to allow the feminine, androgynous side to shine through, too. He was a sexual beacon for all.

But he wasn't the only one...and that is yet another reason Led Zeppelin had such a devastating impact on people, not just musically but sexually as well. For in addition to the blond Viking god, Robert, you had the yin to his yang, the dark, mysterious, ethereal Jimmy Page.

The next song showed this duality off to terrific effect. As Jimmy played one of the most instantly recognizable song intros ever, his guitar was momentarily drowned out by the huge roar of the crowd. Almost a year and a half since LZ IV's release and Stairway to Heaven had assumed anthem status. The blue lights sparkled off Jimmy's doubleneck, and reflected off the sweat on his face and in his hair. As Robert sang the opening lines, another roar erupted from the crowd, before everyone sat down to take in the song. This is where the band showed their understanding of pacing, as they knew after the half-hour of Dazed and Confused, the crowd would need a respite to regroup before building the audience's excitement back up again to carry over into Moby Dick. Stairway to Heaven was the perfect song choice.

Meanwhile Trudy had recovered from the Dazed and Confused onslaught, and liking Stairway to Heaven, her attention perked up...especially the way Robert Plant was glowing before her. Let me explain. While the majority of the stage was bathed in a cool blue light, golden spotlights shone on Robert from behind. So while his chest glistened with sweat in the mystic blue light, the spotlight behind him gave his hair a giant golden halo effect. I looked over at Trudy and once again, she had THAT LOOK. She had been zapped by the Golden God. And the effect was heightened by the fact that Robert stood mostly still while singing the first few verses of Stairway, so that when Robert looked our way, Trudy could imagine he was singing straight to her. Coupled with Jimmy standing to the side, blue light casting an ethereal shimmer on him, both Robert and Jimmy appeared to be a couple of Sylvan Sylphs, visiting our world to spread a little musical majick.

Bonzo soon added a little earthy reality as he came in with the beat, his snare sounding resoundingly through the Forum. Then, as the stage lights brightened to a white heat, it was time for Jimmy's fanfare, his doubleneck held aloft, vertically upright, fretboards parallel to his body. Then, THE SOLO! By now, it was de rigueur that every Stairway solo was different, which in my opinion, was a lot of pressure for Jimmy to put on himself. I mean, think of the strain and stress of having to come up with a different solo every night. But as I mentioned before, they asked no quarter, they gave no quarter. By the solo, most of us had risen to our feet again, and watched with elation as Jimmy tangoed with his doubleneck one last time for the night, wringing every last bit of emotion from the neck of his guitar. Come the final hard rocking part, and I think Plant stunned a few of us with the intensity of his attack on the final lyrics...he was holding nothing back. This was a band that still played Stairway to Heaven like they MEANT it. Needless to say, Plant's gentle reading of the final line triggered a massive wave of love as lighters were lit and more flowers thrown on stage and waves and waves of cheers descended upon the band as the lights hitting the mirror ball high above the arena threw 1000's of fractured shards of light spinning around the darkened Forum. Another memorable moment.

Now it was time for Bonham's showcase, Moby Dick, and it is a sign of the times that people still cheered a drum solo back then. But Trudy needed a pit stop, and as I had already seen 2 Moby Dick's this tour already(although I only remembered the Forum one), I didn't mind escorting her to the women's restroom and getting her a coke. Apparently we weren't the only ones making a pit stop at that time...as the line for the restrooms and snacks were huge. Judging by the length of the women's line, women have less of a tolerance for drum solos than men. The BB joined us, and while

waiting for Trudy to emerge from the bathroom,

we compared tonight's show so far with Bonzo's

Birthday show the previous Thursday while we hit

the men's room. I thought it was going even better

than Thursday's concert. He wasn't sure. We both

agreed the crowd seemed even more geeked up

than Thursday...more geeked up than any concert

crowd we had seen. FINALLY Trudy emerged from her restroom hell, and we headed to the snack bar line, where BB was already waiting for us, having gone ahead while I waited for Trudy. After nearly 20 minutes or so, we had drained our bladders and gotten some more coke to fill them up again. We were ready for the final stretch of the show..

As we made our way back to our seats, we saw the last bit of Moby Dick, as Robert shouted "John Bonham! John Henry Bonham! 25 years old" while Bonham stood up and tipped his hand to the crowd. Of course, Bonham's drum solo was so loud, that even though we were in line outside, we could still HEAR Bonzo even if we couldn't SEE him.

Meanwhile, there had been a few sartorial changes while Bonzo was making like Animal from the Muppets. Somehow, the red flowers in Plant's pants now were attached to Bonham's drumkit, and Plant had planted new flowers in his crotch. And Jimmy had ditched his sweaty orange-red shirt in exchange for a black zippered windbreaker jacket, with the zipper undone nearly all the way.

Bonham went into the 1973-style intro for Heartbreaker, and as Jimmy's wondrous 1973 tone carved its way like a scythe across the Forum as those buzz-saw riffs strutted like a tiger in heat, the band's intent became clear. It now became clear why the band dumped the acoustic set for the 1973 US tour.

As the 1973 US tour would be their longest and largest yet...more cities, more dates, larger venues...the band probably realized that they would attract a lot of casual and first-time fans on this tour. With the increased focus on Public Relations, there would also be increased media scrutiny. It seems, if you look at the setlist, and the way certain songs were linked together, that the band wanted to streamline their set for maximum impact. No more long gaps tuning up, or setting up acoustic guitars and stools. They kept the marathons the hard core fans loved (Dazed and Confused and Moby Dick), while adding enough of the eclectic and soft material to make up for the loss of the acoustic set(Rain Song, No Quarter, OTHAFA). And look at all the linkages, which cut way down on song intro time, not to mention equipment changes:

1. Rock and Roll>Celebration Day>Black Dog

2. Misty Mountain Hop>Since I've Been Loving You

3. The Song Remains the Same>Rain Song

4. Heartbreaker>Whole Lotta Love

Another consideration that may have led to the dropping of the acoustic set, is the reality that the ability of mics to pick up acoustic guitars in an arena setting with high quality was hit-and-miss in the early 70's. The band might have said let's wait until microphone technology improves before dealing with the hassles of miking acoustic guitars in a humid basketball arena. Just a hunch.

Whatever the reason, the 1973 setlist was a model of pacing and variety delivered for maximum impact.

Right off the bat, three quick all-out hard rockers: R & R, Celebration Day, and Black Dog.

Then, two more rockers that are slightly more eclectic: OTHAFA and Misty Mtn Hop.

Then a long stretch of new songs and old showcasing a variety of moods and tempos and solo showcases: SIBLY, No Quarter, TSRTS, Rain Song, D & C, Stairway, and Moby Dick.

Finally, the ramp back up to high energy rockers to send the crowd out on a high: Heartbreaker, WLL, The Ocean, Communication Breakdown.

Back to Heartbreaker...Bonzo is a friggen' marvel in this song; more than 2 hours of playing and right after completing a huge drum solo that would have exhausted most men, and John Henry is STILL delivering crisp fill after fill and hitting the beat hard. Jimmy is moving and grooving as only he can, and as he tempts and teases us during the wicked guitar solo, leaning out over the lip of the stage as he bends the strings behind the nut, it's hard to believe that he just recently injured his hand. You'd never know it the way Jimmy is blazing on guitar tonight. After I saw the Bonzo Birthday Party concert, I made a mental comparison between that show and the 1972 shows, and for the most part I felt the songs played in 73 were just as good, if not better than the same songs played in 72. The two major exceptions were Heartbreaker and Whole Lotta Love. I thought both those songs were played better in 72 than 73. And while tonight's Heartbreaker was better than May 31, I still didn't like the way it cut off the end to go into Whole

Lotta Love.

Whole Lotta Love started more smoothly than on May 31, more crisp and immediately in the groove. Watching Jimmy take a turn at the backing vocals was always a treat. But the real treat lay ahead during the Theremin segment. 1973 is when the

Theremin segment came into its own. They ditched

the bongo and organ underpinnings from the

past, and finally got down and funky, with Bonham and Jones laying down a mean groove, while Page and Plant did battle with each other. Most of the time they would lead into the Theremin segment with a bit of The Crunge or some James Brown groove. But tonight they dove right into the Theremin segment, with Jones and Bonzo establishing the beat, as Plant asked where that confounding bridge was..."Has anybody seen the bridge?" But the main event occured when Jimmy cranked up his Theremin and Gizmotron, which I think were run through his Orange Amps. In one corner you had Plant at the left, his echoplexed orgasmic moans and cries of love whirling around the Forum as he pirouetted around the mic stand. Then in the right corner stood Jimmy, the Grand Wizard of Sound, directing with his elaborate hand movements bolts of whooshing and whirring sound to do battle with Plants orgiastic wails. It was like a Battle Royale...and once again, another indelible concert memory was imprinted on my psyche. There Jimmy was, hands arcing this way and that as he slid and stalked across the stage, his arms and hands directing the eerie electronic sounds this way and that. Truly remarkable...what a showman Jimmy is.

This theremin duel seemed to last a little longer than most...as if they were having one last bit of fun before the tour break. The crazy sounds were whirling around your head, buzzing your brain while Bonzo and Jones were making everybody get their groove on. After about 5 minutes of delirium, Jimmy cranked his guitar up again and launched into the famous WLL solo. One more verse and chorus and Plant unleashed one of his epic "Wanna whole lotta LOOOOOOOOOVE!"

Now the other night, they only did Boogie Mama, which kind of disappointed me, being used to the 25-minute Whole Lotta Loves with the wacky medleys. So right away I was stoked, as when Plant would normally begin his "Last night" spiel, he instead said "I'm going down", and the band followed suit, Jimmy nailing that staccato riff. YES! This what I wanted...something different and spontaneous. I was holding Trudy's hand and we were swinging our arms back and forth. A couple more verses and a guitar solo, then the band is crunching out the I'm A Man riff, then it's The Hunter...awesome, as this is one of my favourite parts of How Many More Times! Finally the band lets Robert tell us about his mama and his papa, too. This boy's reached the age of 24 and he wants to BOO-BOO-BOO-BOO-BOO-BOO-BOOGIE! When Jimmy starts that Boogie Mama riff, the anticipation and excitement builds until the whole band joins in and the Forum explodes with joy, as the infectious tune has the crowd happy and boogieing. Robert is shaking it one time for Elvis...well, actually he's shaking it a helluva lot more times than once. While Robert is shaking his bum, Jimmy is reeling off solo after solo, as once again the band's energy and stamina is a marvel. Just like that Robert intones "Woman...woman...woman", and we're back to finish Whole Lotta Love. "Waaaaayyyy down insiiiiide..." As Robert heads to the finale, I make sure Trudy can see as I don't want her to miss this...we have our arms around each other. The band hits those two power chords as Plant gathers himself for that epic "LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE!"

Bonham starts his rat-a-tat fill as the lights briefly flash and dim until right at the moment Jimmy comes in with the WLL riff and BLAM BLAM BLAM! Three fireballs explode behind the stage, the heat of the fire warming our faces! Trudy freaks out at the explosions...she wasn't expecting THAT, hahaha. Oh, but there's more pyro to come...as Jimmy plays the wahwah variation of the riff, Bonzo's gong is prepared with the lighter fluid soaked wraps. All hell breaks loose then as Jones and Jimmy are slashing away at their instruments, Plant is howling above the din, and Bonzo bashes away at his Gong of Fire, flames surrounding Bonham as the whole thing becomes a sight-and-sound bonanza, crescendoing deliriously to the finish. The crowd is a sea of madness...we've been whipped into a frenzy and the band hasn't even left the stage before cries of "MORE!" ring out. Now some bands will only wait 30 seconds to a minute before coming back out for the encore. Led Zeppelin is different, natch. They make sure the audience is serious about wanting an encore, making us clap and scream and stomp deliriously for almost 5 minutes before the band makes it's way on stage. There's been more stuff thrown on stage in the interim.

Now, one way the 1973 Oceans were better than the 1972s, was that in 73 you got the Bonham spoken-word intro, which was always a treat. Bonham also sang harmony with Plant on the la la la part. The Ocean is a song for the fans, and the fans eat it up. It's snappy riff and monster beat lends itself to a happy vibe. It's a giant party in the Forum as people are clapping and dancing up a storm! Trudy and I have got our second wind and are dancing as energetically as we were earlier in the night, 2 and a half hours ago. Now, having had the Houses of the Holy album for 2 months, I had already memorized most of the lyrics, so I knew The Ocean by heart. On the May 31 show, I thought perhaps Plant switched lyrics during The Ocean, but I wasn't sure. So tonight as the band played The Ocean, I silently sang along and sure enough, Robert switched the 2nd and 3rd verses! Of course, I was later to discover he had a habit of transposing lyrics to other songs: Kashmir, TSRTS, No Quarter, Sick Again, Trampled Underfoot. The Ocean is such a killer song, though, I didn't really care about Robert's lyrical switch. Once again, as I watched Jimmy uncork another one of his rubberband-leg dances and the obvious relish with which the band was playing the tune, I think this is such a perfect encore song...one for the fans. In hindsight, I wish they hadn't dropped it from the set so quick...it would have made a better encore song in 1975 than Black Dog. Same in 77.

The Ocean is so infectious and sweeps you up into

its party wake so easily that it's over much too

quickly. And just like that the band is off again,

while this crowd is not going to settle for one

encore. I'm still kind of hoping, since this is the last night of the leg, that we'll get a blow-out of the likes of the June 25, 1972 show, with multiple

encores. But as the setlist was exactly the same on

May 31 and June 2, and so far tonight as well, I

wasn't getting my hopes up.

A few more minutes of hooting and hollering and back come the guys for a second encore. I listened to my "Three Days After" bootleg so many times in the 70's and 80's, that I can still recall exactly what Robert said before the starting the song: "This is something we don't seem to have trouble with...". And Jimmy warms up the Les Paul, then rockets into Communication Breakdown, an early precursor to speed metal, and already faster and heavier than Black Sabbath's Paranoid. The song unleashes a flurry of headbanging in the Forum, your humble narrator included. Until after the solo, when the band switches gears effortlessly from metal to funk, as the band extrapolates on the O'Jays "It's Your Thing" groove, with Jimmy weaving an incredible snake-like riff in and around the beat. What a conjurer of riffs...what a snakecharmer Jimmy is!

The band quickly ramps back to finish Communication Breakdown after the funky interlude. And afterwards, I'm expecting the band to take their bows again and say their goodbyes and disappear off stage. But WAIT! They're making no move to leave the stage...are we, the final night's audience, who have already proven to be one of the loudest and intense, going to get a special treat? YOU BETCHA! I have to bite my lip to contain my excitement as Jonesy sits behind his Hammond B3 organ. Robert then says, "We'd like to say something else." Jones then starts playing his organ solo,  and I am so beside myself, I'm practically levitating. For while she knew Rain Song would be played, as I told her, I also said they had not played Thank You. But knowing that Jones organ solo lead into Thank You, I began to get goose bumps from excitement. Since Trudy didn't know this, I decided not to tell her so it would be a surprise. As Jones executed a sweet gospel-inflected solo, leading to the final fade into silence, as Jimmy prepared to enter, I was literally bursting. Then came those delicate opening chords to Thank You, before Jones and Bonzo entered and Jimmy cranked the volume on his guitar and the riff exploded as a cheer went up. I looked at Trudy and she looked so happy and so awestruck at the same time...we immediately began to kiss, standing on our seats in the middle of the crowd with the song enveloping us. Now, if you've heard the Three Days After boot, you know that after the initial cheer when Thank You begins, 30 seconds later an even larger cheer occurs. Something obviously happened. But what? That is what people have been asking me for years...and I tell 'em, I don't have a clue. For while that was going on, Trudy and I had locked lips and were holding our bodies tight against each other as we let the warm sound of the song cocoon us. So I don't know what caused that sudden crowd eruption...maybe a stage diver? Someone threw a giant joint on stage? A streaker? Maybe Silver Rider climbed up on stage and gave Jimmy a kiss?

All I know is that once again, I was in a state of absolute bliss, such extreme happiness, that I thoought I was having an out of body experience. Here I was, 11 years old, with a sweet girlfriend, whose tongue was doing loop-de-loos in my mouth...AND I already had 5 LED ZEPPELIN concerts under my belt. I knew that no matter what darkness the future held for me, the memory of this night would sustain me through any tough times.

And it did...and still does to this day.

Frankly, Thank You was a blur that night...was it as good as 72 or earlier versions? I don't know. It sounded pretty good to Trudy and me that night! All I know is that we got to hear one of the last Thank Yous ever...definitely the LAST THANK YOU IN L.A.!

Again, Thank You seemed such a perfect encore song, you wonder why it wasn't played as an encore all the time. Thank You over, we held out hope for another encore, so after the band bowed and said good night and goodbye, we stuck around just in case. But really, how could the band top that...Thank You was the perfect song to go out on.

We waited for the house lights to come up, so we weren't stumbling in the dark. Now it's one thing to leave the Forum from the stands, whereby you exit through the concourse and soon you're outside in the fresh air. But on the floor, once the lights come up, you're hit in the face with the craziness...all around you on the floor are hats, glasses, various shoes, ticket stubs, t-shirts left behind, a tambourine, trash of all shapes and sizes, spilled coke and beer. The detritus left behind at a concert is truly staggering. As we left our seats and headed for the tunnel that led out to the parking lot, I noticed a group of fans lingering at the front of the stage talking to the security guys...perhaps trying to talk their way backstage. Today, people try to get the roadies to hand them a setlist or a stray drumstick, but Zeppelin never used printed setlists.

Walking through the spilled drinks on the floor was one thing, but when we hit the tunnel...PEEUW! As loud shouts of "ZEPPELIN!" and "Fuck Yeah!" and "ROCK AND ROLL!" and "WOO HOO!" sounded through the corridor,  the overwhelming stench of stale beer and sweat hit us in the narrow tunnel. What a blessed relief to finally make it outside in the crisp June night air.

After orienting ourselves, we found BB's Chevy Malibu, and joined the line of cars exiting the parking lot. Sure, it's a bit of a wait...but totally worth it. I feel sorry for those that left early to beat the traffic and missed Thank You.

Trudy and I are still in a state of bliss...we fairly floated out of the Forum. In my excited state and the glow of L-O-V-E suffusing me, I declare that that was the best concert I've ever seen. Trudy is too overwhelmed by it all to say much. The BB decides to treat us to a post-show nosh, and we hit the classic A-Frame IHOP down the street from the Forum on Manchester. While Trudy and I peruse the menu, BB makes a call to Trudy's mom to let her know the situation...we're having a post-show meal and then we'll head home. Trudy and I decide to share an order of strawberry pancakes with whip cream. And hot chocolate. They taste pretty good...but then, pretty much all food tastes good after midnight when you've been at a concert all night. Trudy can't wait to tell her friends and sister about the concert...she's finally in a state where she can talk about the show. She thought it was wild and made me promise to take her to see Zeppelin again the next time they played LA. She didn't care for Dazed and Confused though...that was too much for her. She said she literally got scared during the bow segment...it was hurting her ears and freaked her out. The BB said he thought the show was better than May 31, but that the 72 Forum was best overall...he missed the acoustic set.

Our hunger sated, we headed home, south on the 405, Trudy asleep with her head on my lap, as BB drove. I ruminated over all my favourite bands and concerts I had seen...the Stones, Dylan, Beatles, Pink Floyd, Marvin Gaye, David Bowie, Jethro Tull, Black Sabbath, Deep Purple, Yes, ELP, Elvis Presley, Roberta Flack, Joni Mitchell. It was now 1973...ten years from when the Beatles burst on the scene. A full decade. And in 1973, Led Zeppelin seemed to be the supreme summation of all the influences that came before that led to the developing of hard rock and also represent the possibilities for hard rock to transcend its influences and barriers. No other band did what they did...with the variety and power that they did it with. Not that other bands weren't good...the Stones, Floyd, Yes, Jethro Tull...all had something to recommend them. But when I measured them against Led Zeppelin, they all came up short...and I'm not just referring to the length of their concerts.

Seeing Led Zeppelin confirmed to me that while my eclectic taste would allow me to listen to and love a wide range of bands...even bands with no guitars and drum machines...it would always be hard rock, or at least Zeppelin-style hard rock that would be my primary taste. And it would be the electric guitar that represented the sound of rock and roll. And Jimmy Page was THE MAN in 1973, when it came to the electric guitar.

1973 was the year Led Zeppelin ascended Mount Olympus. Houses of the Holy returned them to #1 on the Billboard chart. Their 1973 European and US tours were mega-successful. They broke the Beatles long-standing attendance record and caused hysteria with nearly every concert. Word-of-mouth spread like wildfire. They could even afford to hire their own plane...the Starship. If in 1971, Stairway to Heaven made them superstars, by the end of the 73 tour Led Zeppelin had gone from superstars to rock gods.

In a rare case of the reality not only matching, but exceeding the marketing hype, Led Zeppelin in concert delivered the goods, and then some.

Led Zeppelin: The effect truly was SHATTERING.

Postscript...one of the after-effects of the concert was that Trudy became obsessed with Robert Plant...and with long, blond hair. I didn't have blond hair. Shortly after my birthday, she left me for some surfer with blond locks.

She came back to me two weeks later because he was a lousy kisser.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com