#keith thought that after those “two years” it wouldn't be the same

[skysmadness]

a feeling that never really left.

[sweetchcolate]

I LOVE your posts about Sugar Apple Fairy Tale and just read your fanfic about Rafael visiting a pregnant Ann and loved it! I hope you write more fanfics on Sugar Apple Fairy Tale and can I request you write about Ann and Shall's wedding. IT WOULD FILL ME WISH SO MUCH JOY THAT YOU WOULDN'T BELIEVE!

fandom: sugar apple fairy tale words: 5677 title: wedding prep shenanigans summary: A humorous glimpse into the weeks leading up to Anne and Shall’s wedding as their friends and guests show up one after the other.

also available on ao3!

A/N: Hiya, this ask is from late august/early september, so thank you for waiting all this time!

It's more on the funny/gen side since my last fic (spillover) was 100% pure fluff, but there was no way I could write about Anne and Shall's wedding without involving all the friends the two made over their adventures.

Thank you for waiting! I hope it was worth it!

As a heads-up, there are some spoilers for events in future LN volumes in Keith's section. It starts when he says "Ah, I was thinking out loud…" and ends when you read "It had been a worrisome whirlwind of drama and tragedy."

(And the changes of spelling between Cat and Kat are on purpose, depending on who talks to him. When it's Cat, it's because they're referencing the animal).

Despite the distance separating them, when Alph Hingley, Keith Powell, Hugh Mercury, Bridget Page, Elliot Collins, and the many other friends Anne and Shall made over the years received a notice for the wedding ceremony of a certain sugar master and an obsidian fairy, they all shared the same thought.

It’s about time.

Followed immediately by: wait, if I received an invitation, then who’s planning this?

--

Bridget, with her fiancé Orland and her ex-fiancé Elliot in tow, was the first one to arrive, of course. She greeted Anne with a warm hug, gave a solemn nod to Shall fen Shall and Mythril Lid Pod, and went straight to the crux of things.

“The wedding is only weeks away! Do you have everything planned?”

“Yes.

“Your dress?”

“Almost done. The seamstress wanted to see me one or two more times to make the final adjustments.”

“And Shall’s outfit?”

“All set!”

“What about the reception?”

“Right next to the church. The head priest and the mayor said they’d lend us tables and chairs so we could eat and party outside.”

“And how many people are you expecting? Do you have a guest list?”

Anne handed over the list, which Bridget briefly skimmed through. She nodded in satisfaction.

“Who’s in the charge of the catering? Oh, and what about the sugar confection? Did you order one? Who did you ask?”

“A-about that…”

“She was planning of making her own,” Shall said, his first intervention since Bridget started grilling Anne over the details. He hadn’t looked up once from whatever he was sewing, but it was obvious he’d kept up with the conversation. “She said she didn’t want to trouble anyone.”

“Shall!” Anne cried, betrayed.

Elliot frowned. He threw an arm around Anne’s shoulders, drawing her to him. He ruffled her hair.

“That won’t do, Anne. Do you know how many people would die to make your wedding sugar sculpture? Just think of it: Hingley, Powell, Mercury, Nadir, Valentine, King, Orland, Bridget—"

“Why did you cite me last, Elliot?”

“— and of course, saving the best for last: good old me. The silver sugar viscount and the best sugar masters of this generation at your beck and call. Soooo, who’s going to be the lucky sod?”

“Can’t I pick myself?”

“Ah ah,” Elliot tutted, wagging a finger. “No, no, no. Don’t you know it’s bad luck?”

“You guys should all make a sugar confection, and then we can choose a winner on the wedding day!” Mythril piped up.

“We? I wasn’t aware this was your wedding, Mythril Lid Pod,” Shall added.

“Ugh, you know what I meant!”

“Yes. You meant to stuff yourself full of silver sugar.”

“I’m going to gnaw on your wedding tunic.”

“No you won’t!” Bridget cut in. “Do you know how expensive those clothes are? Oh! I almost forgot! What about cosmetics? And your hair?”

Anne blanched, and that was an answer in and of itself.

“Anne, I can’t believe you! Come on, we’re going to Lewiston right now!”

“B-but the wedding isn’t for another mont—”

Shall, Mythril, Elliot, and Orland watched the blonde woman drag her friend. They were all quiet. Elliot made the prayer sign one would for the deceased.

Orland smacked him. To Shall, he said: “Aren’t you going to help Anne out? She’s your fiancée.”

“And she’s being dragged around by your fiancée,” Shall retorted. The implication was clear: if you’re not going to stop her, don’t expect me to.

“Hm.”

No one pointed out that the obsidian fairy, a one-man army of his own, could easily have prevented the women from leaving if he was so inclined. Keyword being ‘inclined”. No one could convince Shall (or Bridget for that matter) to do anything they didn’t want to unless you were called Anne Halford.

Mythril repeated the gesture Elliot made moments earlier.

--

“Yo.”

“Kat!”

Anne’s face positively lit up, shrieking when the older sugar master lifted her up in a bear hug. The gesture might be uncharacteristic coming from him, but hey, it wasn’t every day that his apprentice-figure was getting married. She deserved the rare show of affection.

“Hiya Anne,” Benjamin said once she was back on the ground. He was as cool and relaxed as ever. “Congratulations on the wedding~”

“Thank you, Benjamin! But it’s still two weeks away.”

“Oh good, we’re early~ The weather was just awful in Snowpoint, I thought we wouldn’t make it.”

“It smells good in here, small stuff,” Kat said. “What’s cooking?”

“An apple pie! I wanted to make a big one for the wedding, so Bridget and I are trying to figure out the right proportions. Want to be our taste-tester?”

“I won’t say no to free food.”

He followed Anne, finding Bridget, Orland, and Elliot huddled around a stove. Or rather, it was more accurate to say Elliot was huddled around the stove. Orland was holding the hearth door open while Bridget put a knife to a delicious-smelling pie. The air was filled with the scent of clove and cinnamon.

“Oooo, Hingley. That’s a nostalgic face if I’ve seen one.”

“Why am I not surprised to find you here, you freeloader.” Kat rolled his eyes. “Langston, Page. Congrats on your engagement again.”

“Thank you,” they answered in unison. Bridget added: “I think the pie is ready. Once it cools, we can eat.”

“Apple pie?” someone shouted from outside. “Wait for me! Don’t you dare eat without the great Mythril Lid Pod!”

It wasn’t long before Mythril showed up, perched on Shall’s shoulders. The two (or rather, the latter) had gone to chop some wood, the supply depleting faster with the addition of Bridget, Orland, and Elliot.

It was also a good way to keep the insatiable Mythril out of the way, lest he try to eat the apple pie dough raw.

“Oh, hi Kat! I thought I recognized your wagon outside! See, Shall fen Shall? I told you it was his!”

“Thank you for your wisdom,” Shall answered, more sarcasm than actual gratitude.

“Rude as ever, huh, Shall,” Kat said, leaning against the counter, arms crossed.

“Done hibernating, mister Cat? Glad you could make it to the wedding.”

“Hey, play nice.”

“No, no, let them, Anne.” Elliot snickered. “It’s free entertainment!”

“At least I’m doing something. You’re just lazing around, Collins.”

“Hey, hey. I’ll have you know I’m here on official Page workshop business.”

“Oh, really? And what is that?”

“We’ve got a wedding sugar confection for a very important client.”

“And where is that sugar confection? I only saw a regular carriage outside, not a crafter’s wagon.”

“Oh, that’s easy. It’s still in my head!”

“You lazy ass—”

While Elliot and Kat bickered, Anne scooted over to Shall, helping him put the wood away.

“It sure has gotten more lively,” she whispered.

“Has it? I tuned them all out since day one.”

Anne shoved him slightly, but the grin on her face betrayed her amusement. “Don’t tell Mythril Lid Pod, or we won’t hear the end of it.”

“Ha. I don’t think we’ll ever have trouble hearing him.”

She held her hands out to take another log. Shall took the opportunity to bring her hand to his mouth, using his body to hide the gesture from their friends. It wasn’t like he had trouble with displays of affections, but Anne and he could do without the teasing.

Especially Collins’s.

“Only two more weeks,” he murmured, voice pitched low, just enough to reach Anne’s ears. She felt every twist of his lips, every syllable pressed in her skin. In the low light, Shall’s eyes gleamed a beautiful dark amethyst.

She blushed, feeling warm, and squeezed his hand back with a shy smile.

“Hey, lovebirds! Get over here before the shrimp eats your share of the pie,” Elliot interrupted with his oh-so-great timing. True to his words, Mythril’s cheeks were full, resembling a squirrel.

Shall and Anne exchanged a look, sharing similar thoughts. Those would be the longest two weeks of their lives.

--

“I wasn’t expecting everyone to be here already… I’m a bit embarrassed.”

“You’re right on time actually, Keith! Bridget came in early because she wanted to help with the wedding prep, and Elliot and Orland tagged along. And Kat left Snowpoint ahead of time because he didn’t want to be stuck if the roads got snowed in.”

“Still, if I had known, I would have pushed for mister Radcliffe to let me out much earlier.” Keith pointed to the back of his wagon with a hopeful smile. “I hope my sculpture will make it up to you. It’s one of the pieces I’m most proud of!”

“I’m looking forward to it! What did you make?”

“That’s a secret. I can’t have you spoiling your own wedding gift.”

Anne pouted. “Everybody’s so cagey! First, it’s Bridget kicking me out of the venue, then Elliot telling me I can’t go home because he and Orland are making my wedding candy on behalf of the Page workshop.”

“What about Shall? And mister Hingley?”

“They’re checking with the innkeeper if we have enough rooms for all the guests.”

So far, all five artisans and three fairies had piled up in Anne’s and Shall’s home, with Anne and Shall sharing the master bedroom, Bridget in the guest room, Elliot and Orland in the other, and Kat and Mythril sleeping downstairs in the living room. However, after the reception, Anne and Shall would want for intimacy on their wedding night, and so their friends needed somewhere else where to sleep.

“The two of them? Will they be alright?” Keith asked, referencing to Kat’s short temper and Shall’s ability to get a rise out just about anyone with pinpoint precision. The two men got along like… well… cat and dog.

“Mythril Lid Pod’s with them, but if I had known everyone would give me the boot, I would have gone with them,” Anne sighed.

“In that case, do you know what to do when something’s bothering you?”

“Run and leave it all behind, right?”

Keith blinked, but a pleased smile appeared on his face. “I’m surprised you remember that. It’s been so long ago.”

“Of course! I was under a lot of stress back then, you know? Your words were a big help, they really cheered me up.”

“Just my words?” he teased.

“You know what I mean!”

He laughed. “I’m glad I could help.”

They lapsed into comfortable silence, watching the flowers sway in the slight spring breeze. All the snow had already melted, and the land was slowly regaining its colors, waking up from a long deep sleep.

“To think you’re getting married…” Keith murmured under his breath.

“Hm?”

“Ah, I was thinking out loud…” He sighed. There was something wistful, but also peaceful about his smile. “Talking about the past got me feeling nostalgic. To think that back then, our biggest worry was whether we’d make silver sugar master.”

True. A lot happened in just a few short years: Anne and Shall’s abduction by his brother Rafael fen Rafael, Shall taking his responsibilities as a potential fairy king and bargaining with the human king to slowly give fairies back their autonomy, Rafael fen Rafael’s return, and Anne and Shall almost dying at his hands and paying the price of surviving such an ordeal with their memories (Anne of her painstakingly hard-earned sugar crafting skills, Shall of his meeting with Anne and all those she brought to his life)…

It had been a worrisome whirlwind of drama and tragedy, but their happy ending was finally within reach.

And not just Anne’s and Shall’s… everyone’s: Bridget and Orland were engaged and most likely the next to get married; Elliot had assumed the reigns of the workshop, taking the strain off Glen’s shoulders; the Page workshop was flourishing ever since the Holy Beginnings exhibit; Kat and Keith kept up their work as sugar masters, refining their skills and gaining in recognition.

Everyone was moving forward towards a bright future.

But a part of Anne missed the old days, a time where life was much simpler.

“This might sound silly, but I hope we all stay in touch. I… I don’t want us to drift apart,” she said, fighting to get the words out of her tightening throat. She was suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of sadness and bittersweetness.

“Of course.” Keith patted her on the back, kind and comforting, and the gesture almost made Anne lose her composure. She sniffed the tears back. “We can meet up for the Royal Fair, for the Holy Beginnings, for Valentine’s day… Your birthday’s on the sixth month, right? So that will be our summer reunion.”

“If we only gathered for my birthday, that’d be unfair.”

“Alright, alright. Let’s come up with our own summer holiday, then. That way, no one’s jealous.”

Anne laughed, shaky. “As long as I don’t have to come up with the name.”

“You can design incredible sugar sculptures to wow royalty, but you’re stumped by names?”

“Hey! I’m a silver sugar master, not a name master!”

He laughed. Keith kept on patting her back until she felt better. She was truly lucky to have such an attentive and thoughtful person as a friend.

“Keith?”

“Hm?”

There was so much she wanted to thank him for, but she doubted she could ever convey the depths of her feelings, so Anne poured all her gratitude, her happiness, and her appreciation into two simple words: “Thank you.”

Keith wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. He whispered, barely a murmur on the wind, “Anytime.”

--

“Anne! Anne! Congratulations on the wedding!”

“Actually, it’s ‘congratulations on the engagement.’”

Noah ignored Valentine’s correction, clinging to Anne. “Can I see your dress?”

“Not today!” Anne laughed at the fairy’s pout. “Don’t worry, you’ll see it in two days.”

“But that’s too faaaaaaaar.”

“Noah.” It was Glen who spoke. The older man was on the edge of his seat, waiting for Anne and Noah to clear the way so he could get off the carriage. “If you’re that excited, why don’t you go check the church? That’s where the ceremony will be held.”

“Oh, in that case, could you tell Bridget, Orland, and Elliot that mister Glen is here?” Anne added.

“Will do!”

And just as quickly as he had latched onto Anne, Noah was off. Nadir and Valentine sputtered, giving Anne their regards before running after the fairy. Noah might be older than them both, but he was as innocent and carefree as a child.

“Mister Glen. You seem to be doing well.”

“I am. I feel much better these days.” Glen stood and Anne hovered nearby just in case, but the older man managed to make his way out of the carriage on his own. He regarded her warmly. “I believe you’ve grown. I don’t remember you being this tall.”

“I think you shrank, mister Glen,” King said. He waved at Anne. “Yo, thanks for the invitation. And congrats!”

“Thank you! I’m glad you could make it!”

“Of course. You’re one of us, even if you don’t work for the workshop officially anymore,” Glen said. “If you had told us earlier, we could have organized you a grand wedding. But what’s done is done. Are you all set?”

“Yes! Bridget was a big help. I thought I had everything handled, but there was so much more left than I expected!”

“The missy planned her own wedding months ahead. She knows her stuff.”

“Before I forget. Here.” Glen handed Anne a leather pouch, heavy and thick. There was a tinkling sound when he moved it, almost like that of coins. “For you.”

“Wait, why are you giving this to me? Are you not staying?”

“Don’t look so alarmed. I wouldn’t miss your wedding like I wouldn’t miss my daughter’s. This is a long overdue payment.”

“For what?��

“For your time as our head artisan.”

Anne blinked. She had assumed that role years ago, her goal to retrieve Shall’s wing, then to fulfill her promise to revive the Page workshop. It had never been about money.

“Mister Glen, I can’t—”

“Can’t accept it? It’s rude to refuse a gift, you know?”

“Just take it, or he’ll just ask Noah to hide it so you can’t return it to us,” King said.

Anne sighed. All her friends said she was stubborn and impossible to sway once her mind was set, but they were as equally headstrong when they wanted to be.

“Thank you, mister Glen. I appreciate it.”

“Treat yourself, Anne.” He patted her shoulder. “It’s good manners to make use of the gifts you’re given. It shows your appreciation more than saying thanks ever will.”

She was working on that, on relying on her friends, on accepting their goodwill and affection (whether through money, gifts, food or kind words) without falling back on old habits of doing everything on her own.

“Then I’ll buy myself some strawberry cakes. I’ve been craving those for a while.”

“That’s the spirit,” he laughed.

--

Anne flopped around like a fish out of water, sleep eluding her. Shall sat up from the bedding they’d laid on the ground, next to the bed — he would have been more than happy sleeping with Anne, but she’d claimed it improper before the ceremony. His guess was that she was still shy with anything beyond hugs and kisses, but also didn’t want to risk Mythril finding them twined together which… fair enough — and leaned in, cheek against his palm.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“I can see that. Too excited for tomorrow?”

“I… I kind of don’t want tomorrow to come.” Anne gasped and put her hands to her mouth, as if she realized how her words could be interpreted only after the fact. “Ah, no! I didn’t mean it like that! I…"

He let her talk. With her tendency to ramble, her true feelings would come spilling out sooner and later. And his patience was rewarded.

“I’m so happy, you know? The past few weeks were so fun, with everyone coming and staying over. I didn’t realize how long it’s been since we were all together. But once the wedding’s over, everyone will leave… we’ll all go back to living our own lives…” She sniffed, voice shaking. “I know it’s silly, but I miss everyone. I miss them even though they haven’t left.”

Shall was reminded of Hugh’s words, many years ago — words he knew true, but words he’d never forgiven the man for since they meant to separate him from Anne. “Humans get used to comfort so quickly, they forget how to go back to their old lives.”

They seemed to sum Anne’s feelings perfectly.

“The Page headquarters are a day of travel away from here, and Lewiston less than half a day. Cat also gave you his shop, but you know him. He’ll show up to check on you once in a while,” he told her, cupping her face. This caused Anne’s unshed tears to bead at the corners of her eyes, and he wiped them away with his thumb. “Those you love and who love you will always be close to you, no matter the distance. But if the feeling gets too unbearable and you want to see them again, then let’s hit the road together.”

Anne’s smile was wobbly, but it was a start. He opened his arms, and she gladly went for a hug, burying her face against his chest as her shoulders shook quietly. He patted her hair, and she relaxed in his embrace after a while. She smelled nice and she was soft to hold.

“Thank you. I feel much better.”

“You should go to sleep. You have a long day tomorrow.”

“Oh, and you don’t?”

“I don’t need as much sleep as you.”

“I know. It’s so unfair. Do you know how much more work I could get done otherwise?”

“You’d just throw yourself at silver sugar until you passed out from exhaustion. Which you have before.”

“What if it’s just an excuse so you’ll carry me to bed?”

Such underhanded schemes weren’t like Anne, but he humored her just the same. “Just ask me then. No need to go to such extremes.”

“Hey, you guys still awake? Is this a bad time?”

At Mythril’s voice, Anne scooted out of Shall’s laps, putting a respectable distance between them. She ignored the disgruntled expression on his face. “No, we were just talking. Did we wake you?”

“Nah, I wanted to check the moon. It’s overhead, which means it’s now officially your wedding day!” He sauntered over to them and held out two small boxes. “And I wanted to be the first one to give you your gifts!”

Shall and Anne shared a look before taking the gifts. Shall’s was a pendant in the shape a golden full moon, the metal so polished it reflected his face. He glanced over to Anne. She had received the same thing.

“They’re matching necklaces!” Mythril exclaimed, taking his own out. “When we’re apart and you get lonely, just look at it and remember we’re all under the same sky, watching the same moon.”

Huh. Did he listen in on them or was it just an incredible coincidence? Then again, it was possible Mythril had picked up Anne’s underlying fears over the past weeks — he could be surprisingly perceptive.

Anne, whose emotions were already running high, was once again on the verge of tears, but she looked touched, rather than sad.

“Oh, Mythril…”

“H-hey, are you crying? Why are you crying? Do you hate it that much? Don’t cry, Anne, I’ll get you something else! S-shall fen Shall, help! Do something!”

“They’re tears of happiness, dummy.”

“Huh? Don’t be stupid, how can you cry from being happy?”

Anne shook her head with a small laugh, scooping the tiny fairy and bringing him close to her chest. She cupped one hand around his body and gently laid her cheek on the top of his head in the best approximation of a hug she could manage considering their size difference.

“Thank you so much, Mythril Lid Pod. I love it,” she whispered, overflowing with gratefulness.

He clutched at her front, cheeks pink and eyes downcast in embarrassment. “...you’re welcome.”

Anne set him down, wiping her eyes, and stood. “I just keep crying lately. I’m going to freshen up. I’ll be right back.”

Shall nodded. Mythril sat down on Shall’s pillow, playing with his necklace. It was quiet, if not for the occasional sniff coming from the small fairy. Shall didn’t comment on it.

“Hey, Shall fen Shall?” Mythril said after a while.

“Hm?”

Another sniff, longer. “I think I get it. Happy tears.”

Shall snorted softly.

“Hey, Shall fen Shall?”

“What?”

“Can I sleep on your pillow tonight?”

Looked like Anne wasn’t the only one hit with a bout of nostalgia and dreading separation.

It had been a while since they all slept in the same room. It was a necessity at first, born from the fact Anne barely had enough money to afford even a single room in inns. Even after she’d won the thousand cress prize in Philax, she kept her frugal ways.

It was only after the second royal fair, once Anne made sugar master and established her reputation, earning herself a commendable wage, that they started to rent extra beds or, on rare occasions, extra rooms.

And then everything went down the drain when Rafael fen Rafael returned, upheaving their normalcy. Once things had settled down, their new normal was for Mythril to sleep on his own while Shall kept watch over Anne, sitting in a chair or lying in nearby bedding.

This would be the first (and probably the last) time in months they would share a room.

“Fine.”

“Please, please, please! I promise I won’t make a peep! I’ll even— what did you say?”

Shall laid down, covering himself with his blanket. “Go to sleep, Mythril Lid Pod. It’s late.”

When Anne came back, she found Shall and Mythril lying side by side. The smaller fairy was sprawled out like a star, his eyes closed. Not wanting to be left out, she slipped in with them. Shall scooted backwards to give her more space.

“Good night, you two,” Anne said.

“G’night Anne… Shall fen Shhhh…”

It wasn’t long before the two were asleep. Shall adjusted the covers over them and watched over the two people most precious to him.

--

“Don’t!”

“You can’t!”

“Someone, stop him!”

“Easy for you to say!”

“What’s all this ruckus about?” Bridget asked, pulling away from where she was putting the final touches on Anne’s make-up. She frowned at the muffled screaming. The door to the dressing room shook and rattled, as if someone was leaning against it.

“Bridget, you gotta help us!” Elliot shouted from behind. “Lock the door!”

“What’s going on, Elliot?”

“Move aside,” Shall said. His voice might be muffled, but his annoyance was clear.

“I told you man; it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony!”

“That’s ridiculous. I should be able to see my wife whenever I want.”

“You’re not married yet, you dumbass. Show some patience.” It was Kat.

“Actually, they are. They signed the paperwork months ago.”

Mythril gasped, as if realizing he had let slip something he shouldn’t have.

Too late. It was like someone had sucked all the sound out. You could hear people’s breathing with how quiet it was.

“What?” pretty much everyone shouted in unison. Bridget turned to Anne, gaping, whereas Noah tilted his head in confusion, not understanding the fuss.

Anne would have buried her face in her hands if she didn’t risk ruining her make-up. Of course this would get brought up right before the ceremony and in front of all of their friends. Gathering the poofy skirt of her wedding dress, she made her way out of the dressing room, intent to explain the situation.

Instantly, six pairs of hands blocked Shall’s line of sight. The fairy huffed.

“When Shall and I looked for someone who could officiate our marriage, most of the priests we asked refused to.” Many of them had squirmed at the idea of a human and a fairy marrying, the result of decades, if not centuries, of subconsciously ingrained bias. “I told Hugh about this, and he said that as silver sugar viscount, he was authorized to oversee our marriage. So we signed the paperwork with him and Mythril as our witnesses.”

The silent was thick and heavy, everyone processing the information. It was Elliot who broke down first, bursting with laughter.

“That’s— that’s—” He could barely speak with how hard he was laughing. “Oh man, and you guys call me a schemer.”

“It wasn’t like we were trying to hide it!” Anne retorted, cheeks puffing. “It was just a formality.”

“Only you would call being married on paper ‘a formality.’”

“Because it is!”

“Sorry to break it you, kiddo, but that paperwork is as binding as any vow. As far as the kingdom’s concerned, you’ve been husband and wife for months now,” Hugh added with a smirk. He looked all too pleased and amused at Anne’s embarrassment. “Though I suppose if you asked Shall, he’d say it’s been even longer.”

The fairy crossed his arms, but didn’t deny Hugh’s claims. Anne was glad for the heavy layers on her face because she was sure her blush would have been as bright as the sun. She certainly felt as warm.

“You look very pretty, Anne,” Keith said, changing the subject. It triggered a flood of compliments from the other guests, their kind words overlapping.

“Yeah, you look great!”

“Beautiful.”

“Hey, where’s your veil?”

“I got it!”

“You’re all doing this on purpose,” Shall grumbled. He could easily have plowed through the crowd to check on Anne or moved aside the hands blocking his vision, but he had grown tolerant of his friends’ shenanigans.

Anne was filled with a surge of appreciation for her fiancé. He had come so far compared to when they first met.

“If you’re all ready, how about we proceed with the ceremony?” Glen said.

“Go on ahead, everyone. There’s something I want to say to Shall.”

Her friends looked at Anne, then back at Shall, uncertain.

“Shall, are your eyes closed?”

“They are.”

“There you have it. I promise I’ll be quick.”

Satisfied, they all filed down the hallway, headed for the altar, leaving Anne alone with Shall.

Given the opportunity, she took in her fiancé’s (husband’s) appearance. He had always been a beautiful man, with fair smooth skin, glossy dark hair, high cheekbones, and a sharp jaw. His striking features made people’s heads turn.

Some might find his wedding outfit simple — a long dark tunic over breeches, with jewel-patterned embroidery lining his shoulders, his sleeves, and his lapels — but in Anne’s opinion, it only made him more handsome, if that was even possible.

“So you’re allowed to stare all you want, but I can’t look at you?”

“Just a little longer. Once the ceremony starts, you can look.”

Anne grabbed and squeezed his hands, a small compensation for all his patience. His hands slowly traveled up her arms, her shoulders, and curled around her jaw, as if trying to perceive her through touch since his eyes weren’t allowed. Anne felt goosebumps at the feel of Shall’s strong and slender fingers on her bare skin.

“You better not shy away,” he breathed.

“I-I won’t.” Anne felt tongue-tied by their proximity. She felt like she was getting sucked in, but she resisted the urge to move in for a kiss — she wasn’t sure she’d find the strength of will to pull away. “Sorry about earlier. I forgot to tell you about that little tradition.”

“It’s fine. I waited years, I can wait a few more minutes.”

She smiled, even if he couldn’t see it. “Then let’s not waste any more time. I’ll be going first.”

She turned around, but was stopped in her tracks as arms wrapped around her waist, firm and unyielding. There was a puff of hot air on the back of her neck, and Anne’s whole body tensed when she felt a pair of lips on her skin. She squeaked as they moved up to behind her ear. Her legs trembled and her heart was pounding in her temples.

“S-Shall…”

“Tradition says I can’t look, not that I can’t touch or taste.”

Anne’s mouth was dry. She was frozen in surprise and excitement, but just as quickly as he had embraced her, Shall let her go. There was a satisfied and smug look on his face, even with his eyes closed.

“See you soon, my future wife.”

She didn’t need to be told twice, and basically sprinted out of there before Shall got more handsy and frayed her nerves. She met with Glen right outside the doors leading to the altar. He had offered to give her away, as she didn’t have any blood family, and Anne couldn’t think of anyone better suited for the role than a father himself.

“All set?”

She took a deep breath. Her heart was doing flip-flops in her chest and her hands were faintly shaking as she linked arms with Glen. “All set.”

He smiled at her, calm and reassuring. All their friends were seated and chatting with one another, but the second she stepped in, they turned to look at her. Elliot, Nadir and King hooted, Kat, Keith, and Valentine waved, Orland nodded and Bridget smiled at her, and Mythril jumped up and down in joy.

Anne waved as she passed each row of guests. She deliberately avoided looking at Shall, waiting for her at the altar. She knew whatever expression he made would make her weak in the knees.

Glen led her down the aisle, and she swapped his arm for Shall’s. She kept looking at her feet. It would be embarrassing to stumble and fall at this point.

Finally, once they stood in front of Hugh, their officiant, she allowed herself a glance at her fiancé (and on paper husband), immediately regretting and glad for her earlier choice.

She had been right. Shall was looking at her like she was the sun and he a sunflower. His eyes were intense, half-lidded and heady, and his strong features showed a fierce warmth and passion. She felt both like running away and wanting to stay in place to bask in such a rare expression.

“Alright everyone, I’ll be officiating this ceremony. I won’t bore you with a long speech,” Hugh said. The attendees got quiet, expectant. “Anne Halford, will you take Shall fen Shall for a husband?”

“I do.”

“Shall fen Shall, will you take Anne Halford for a wife? Will you love her from now on for better or for worse? In sickness and in health? In silver sugar obsession and in creative drought? In—”

Everyone snickered and even Anne giggled quietly. It was obvious Hugh was doing this to aggravate Shall, who bore the unnecessarily prolonged vows with admirable patience. Anne could tell when he tuned Hugh out, because he rolled his eyes and decided to look at her instead. They shared a smile, expressions soft with love, as they waited for Hugh’s speech to end.

“I do.”

“Good. Any objections from the guests?”

“None! You know there’s none!” Mythril yelled. “Hurry it up!”

“Then by the powers conferred to me as silver sugar viscount, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss—”

Shall didn’t need to be told twice nor was he going to wait a second longer. In one swift move, he’d lifted Anne’s veil and leaned in to kiss his proper wife.

“—the bride. You know, it’s rude to interrupt people when they’re talking.”

Cheers and shouts and clapping and confetti and flower petals burst all around them, swallowing Hugh’s friendly teasing. Not that Anne and Shall paid any mind to anything that wasn’t their spouse. They pulled back from their kiss, grinning, forehead and nose touching. Their happiness was obvious.

And just as all those weeks ago when they received the invitation, everyone shared the same thought.

It’s about time.

[sinceileftyoublog]

The Who Reissue Reivew: Who's Next/Life House (Super Deluxe Edition)

(UMe)

BY JORDAN MAINZER

After listening to all almost 10 hours of the latest reissue from The Who, I've come away with two thoughts: I'm glad Pete Townshend's vision for Life House has been totally documented, and I'm thankful Who's Next ended up exactly the way it did. The London band's 1971 opus is, full stop, a perfect album, and remastered over 50 years later, it sounds as vital as ever. Hearing "Baba O'Riley" doesn't just excite people experiencing it for the first time but wows those listening for the thousandth, from the opening chords to Dave Arbus' violin at the end. "Bargain" is the band's most underrated song in their entire catalog, Keith Moon's drums acting as a lead instrument, with John Entwistle's bass and Townshend's guitars providing the backbone. Nicky Hopkins' piano graces the two dramatic treatises on the very act of songwriting itself, "The Song Is Over" and "Getting In Tune". "Won't Get Fooled Again" remains a wildly anarchic song from a band that only went so far as to lightly poke fun at consumerism but was otherwise apolitical. And as much as Roger Daltrey was at the height of his vocal powers, belting during "Baba O'Riley" and unleashing one of the most famous screams in rock and roll on the final track, the two songs without him--Entwistle's "My Wife" and Townshend's brilliant choogle "Going Mobile"--shine bright.

So when you hear the demos from the failed Life House rock opera that turned into Who's Next, as well as sessions containing fan favorite songs recorded around the same time, do you question what made the cut? Could Who's Next have been even better? The short answer, and the only answer, is no. But the extended material, in conjunction with live recordings of two concerts in 1971 before and after the record was released, paints a fascinating picture of a band trying to figure out what it's best at. They were the first to advertise a rock opera in 1969 with Tommy, and Townshend was eager to write another one in Life House, an astonishingly ambitious, multi-media project with a convoluted plot and a desired presentation that seems to foreshadow postmodernism, the Internet, and the metaverse all at once.

Appropriately, the Lifehouse Chronicles demos (referring to the box set Townshend released in 2000) indicate a band where he's at the forefront, Moon's drumming notably taking a back seat on a groovier "Bargain". "Teenage Wasteland" shares some lyrical elements with the eventual "Baba O'Riley" but is structured like a prog rock song, and the gist of the lyrics emphase the quintessential masculine impostor syndrome that pervaded the band's earlier songs. "Love Ain't For Keeping" is less of a country ballad and Daltrey showcase, more an opportunity for Townshend to sneer over psychedelic wah-wahs. A 13-minute instrumental version of "Baba O'Riley" starts out exactly the same as the eventual version until the drums swallow in on themselves, the song growing quieter, delving into experimental ambiance, and warping in and out as if it were an electronic remix of the original. What the Lifehouse Chronicles does make you appreciate, on the other hand, is the individual greatness of gorgeous songs that stand on their own merits but wouldn't have sounded sonically cohesive within the Who's Next framework: the strummed "Greyhound Girl", barroom piano jaunt "Nothing Is Everything (Let's See Action)", and the layered "Pure and Easy". Plus, hearing a rawer, more fried version of "Going Mobile" is the closest you'll ever come to witnessing a live recording of the Who's Next standout the band never played in concert.

The two sessions included in the reissue pinpoint where Life House turned into Who's Next. The first contain recordings at New York's Record Plant with band manager Kit Lambert (that Leslie West of Mountain famously played on). Sonically, they're a bit muddier than the Olympic Studios sessions or what ended up on Who's Next. "Won't Get Fooled Again" is plodding, as is "The Note", an early version of "Pure and Easy". When Lambert and Townshend had a falling out about what, exactly, Life House was (Townshend had rejected Lambert's Tommy film script and told Universal Pictures that Life House was a new version of Tommy), the band went to Glyn Johns to produce, who suggested The Who make a single album instead of a rock opera. It's here that we hear versions of songs like "Love Ain't For Keeping" and "Bargain" that sound familiar, as well as stellar versions of tracks recorded for Life House that didn't make Who's Next. "I Don't Even Know Myself" sports clacking percussion from Moon, "Relay" chugs along wonderfully, and "Put the Money Down" juxtaposes Daltrey's huge vocals and Townshend's guitars, the closest the band ever got to Southern rock.

The sixth disc, containing alternate mixes and sessions from Townshend's home studio in Twickenham, is by no means essential, but it reminds you just how good The Who sounded as a result of participating in so many sessions, fine-tuned while at their creative peak. Versions of "The Seeker" highlight Townshend's fast-picked guitar and Moon's drumming, Daltrey's full-throated wails exemplifying what made this era of the band so thrilling. In a call to Live at Leeds, one of the best live albums ever, and one that the band simply released as a way to tide over hungry fans post-Tommy, The Who here include a stereo remix of Leeds favorite "Heaven and Hell". "Water"'s piano trills and call-and-response vocals preview the storming grandiosity of Quadrophenia, while the undeniably silly "Waspman", with its harmonica and vocal zipping, recall earlier, more absurd albums like The Who Sell Out.

The band's concert at the Young Vic Theatre in London, impromptu during album recording, and the site where the band planned to record sonic and visual footage as part of the Life House experience, proved to be the rock opera's death knell. Perhaps that was because fans were quick to shout requests for "My Generation" and "Summertime Blues", disappointed when Townshend announced "Water" instead. I like to think it's because the Who's Next songs sounded good on their own: "Love Ain't For Keeping", the upcoming single "Behind Blue Eyes", and a guitar solo-laden "Getting In Tune". By the time they played later that year at The Civic Auditorium in San Francisco, Who's Next was already out, and it's this concert, presented in full for the first time ever, that documents a band realizing where their newer, more ambitious material fit in with their classics. While they still opened with "Can't Explain" and "Substitute", by the time they performed the synth intro of "Baba O'Riley", fans started to cheer for the new material, too. Naturally, the biggest reaction erupted for a 17-minute version of "Magic Bus", Tommy material like "Pinball Wizard", and a blistering "My Generation". In due time, though, the band would be playing to true arenas, on the strength of, not in spite of, Who's Next. What this box set shows is a potential alternate timeline: If Townshend's vision had panned out, who's to say we'd still be talking about The Who in 2023?

[alrightieaphroditie]

take the edge off | e.m. series masterlist! | next part!

pairing *:･ﾟ eddie munson x female! reader wc *:･ﾟ 3.7 k warnings *:･ﾟ mentions of drugs (weed) and talk of events that happened in s3! an *:･ﾟ ahh i have officially written my first fanfic ever!! this is very exciting for me but also makes me kinda nervous, hehe. i hope this leads to me writing many more, though, bc this shit is lowkey therapeutic. anyways, this is kind of unedited, so if any major errors jump out at you while you're reading, please let me know so that i can fix it! this is like a soft!eddie type fic bc i was just in the mood for it last night! i appreciate any and all feedback!

synopsis *:･ﾟyou're exhausted, feeling burnt out, and your neighbor won't stop practicing guitar with his amp turned as loudly as possible. you need a pick-me up, and eddie munson has just the thing.

you were desperate. at least, that seemed to be the only logical explanation you could think of as to why you were walking across the graveled road towards eddie munson's trailer late at night in your pajamas.

of course, if anyone asked max why you went over in the first place, she'd tell them that you were just asking eddie to turn down his amp. munson was notorious for practicing his guitar late at night, and most nights you and max didn't mind the background noise. in fact, on the nights where max couldn't sleep, the nights where she would cling to you while you both sat on the couch. you comfort her as much as you can while wiping her tears and running your hand through her hair softly, and you appreciated the noise then. you created a game for those nights, telling max to close her eyes, to listen to the chords he struck loudly, and guess which song he had decided that he needed to learn that week. it seemed to calm her enough, and you always made her laugh when you suggested that eddie was finally learning a david bowie song.

as if.

but tonight was not one of those nights. tonight, you had worked two shifts at the family video in town (somehow keith hired you even though your top three movies were breakfast at tiffany's, the aristocats, and the dark crystal) and then went straight to the police station, where you were helping flo sort through files and answering phone calls. max was sitting at the table in the kitchen area when you got home, multiple books and notebooks flung about the small space. the table was where the two of you had spent the last few hours as you tried helping max study for her biology exam at the end of the week. you could tell she was seconds way from ripping her hair out of her head, and you, well you were barely hanging on yourself.

working two jobs in hawkins while living at a trailer park was not what you had envisioned for yourself when you moved out a year ago to attend college. you lasted two semesters, came back home to visit your family, and then your world turned upside down. literally. a few weeks after getting settled at your old house, max confided in you that she was worried about billy. she wouldn't exactly tell you why, but you promised you'd try talking to him. you never truly cared for your stepbrother, but max, for whatever reason, had a very small soft spot in her heart for him, and you wanted to take care of your sister. he was the same asshole he'd always been when you spoke to him the next day, slamming the door in your face as he walked away in his red swim shorts and white tank top. you thought nothing more of it.

it wasn't until you got home late one night from being with your friends when you saw billy carrying bag after bag of ice to his bedroom. he looked feverish, but despite your questions, he insisted that he was fine. later that night, max ran into your bedroom, shaking and panting. she'd had a nightmare, and this was when she finally gave in and confessed to you some of the events that had happened the previous year. you learned all about eleven, a girl who had some kind of power, and the truth about what went down at the hawkins lab. it was only a matter of time before you were recruited by max's friends, and you were one of the few who knew the truth of what happened at the starcourt mall. one of the few inside the mall when the mind flayer attacked.

max had been immediately affected by the events of the night, by billy's death. she had shut down, became a shell of the person she used to be. every now and then you'd catch a glimpse of the girl she used to be, but it disappeared just as quickly as you caught it. you, on the other hand, had responded to things a little differently. after billy's death, his father left your mother. not officially declaring a divorce, but there wasn't much hope for the marriage if one spouse was in california while the other was in indiana. your mom struggled to keep her job, turning to drinking to cope with the loss of a stepson and her husband, almost forgetting that she still had two daughters to care for. you knew you couldn't go back to college after this, and so you withdrew, moved back home, and have been helping keep things afloat as much as you could. you needed to be the person max could rely on during these times, and so you kept your emotions and struggles to yourself.

usually, that wasn't an issue. you had become one of reefer rick's most reliable customers, seeking him out to buy weed whenever you could spare some of your hard-earned money. that solution worked for about half a year, and then rick got busted by the cops. you had run out of your stash a few weeks ago and were starting to see the results of not being able to smoke. your thoughts wouldn't stop running a mile a minute, and every time you closed your eyes, you saw billy. you got cranky, becoming irritated more easily, and a perpetual migraine sat at the back of your head.

on this night in particular, you had already snapped at a guest when they tried convincing you to let them take home another movie even though they already had the max out, and you shouted at officer callahan when he accidently dumped your cup of coffee out in the sink because he thought you were done with it. all you wanted to do was lay in bed and cry, but when you saw max at the table, you knew that wasn't happening any time soon. and then eddie freaking munson started to play his damn guitar when it was almost the middle of the night.

a soft march breeze flittered throughout the night, and you wrapped your oversized brown flannel around your middle as you stepped through the grass to the few stairs leading up to eddie's door. it was then that you immediately regretted coming out, only for the fact that you were wearing a tank top and shorts under the flannel. you almost turned around and went back to max, but as you started down the stairs, eddie struck a chord that made your head throb, and that was that.

"munson!" you shouted, banging a fist on the trailer door a few times. you shifted your weight, holding your flannel closed with one hand as you waited a moment before starting to knock again. "eddie!"

the incessant noise abruptly stopped and, feeling satisfied with yourself, you started to march down the wooden stairs, thinking about making some hot chocolate for you and max. you had just reached the grass when you heard the door to the trailer fling open, causing you to spin around. in the doorway stood eddie munson, wearing a white t-shirt and pair of red plaid pajama pants, leaning forward a bit as he held open the screen door. his big brown eyes found yours immediately, and you watched as a cheshire cat grin spread across his face.

"well, well, well. if it isn't miss mayfield standing at the edge of my humble abode. to what do i owe the pleasure?" he asked, moving forward on the small landing. he leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at you, the grin never leaving his face. despite the breeze, you felt your face heat with a blush.

eddie munson was no stranger to you. namely, he had quite the reputation of being a freak, what with his heavy metal band corroded coffin and his supposed satan-worshipping hellfire club. you knew the later was a nothing more than a stupid fear, though, as max's friends were all involved in the club. every time you worked with steve harrington at family video, you were subjected to listening to dustin henderson speak nothing but praises for eddie himself. and you trusted dustin, had no reason to believe otherwise. you had also gone to school with eddie, though you weren't really sure he remembered that fact. he was supposed to have graduated before you, and then with you, and now, after you. you'd even had a few classes together, but you knew he spent more time not being in class than he ever did in it, so you honestly didn't really expect him to know you. even these last few months that you've lived across from him, you've never interacted with one another. just some stolen glimpses when you're arriving home and he's leaving, or vice versa.

you must admit that you did foster a bit of a crush for him when you were in the same grade, and now, with him standing above you, gazing down at you with his brown eyes, you were starting to remember exactly why you felt that way. clearing your throat, you copied his pose, crossing your arms across your chest. "i was just coming over to ask you to turn down your amp a bit, please. max has had a rough day." you weren't completely lying to him. you really did need him to quiet down otherwise you were worried your head might genuinely explode from the migraine. however, you also knew from rick that eddie also dabbled in selling drugs, and again...you were desperate.

he studied you for a moment, the sounds of crickets chirping filling the silence, before pushing himself off the doorway. he gripped the railing of the landing between his hands, leaning forward slightly, and in the glow of the streetlights you could see the silver metal of the rings adorning his fingers. "ah, max is the one having a rough day, yeah? is that why you look like you're five seconds away from bursting into tears on my lawn?" he drawled out, cocking his head to the side as he questioned you. his accusation caused your eyes to widen, and you forced yourself to take a few deep breaths. you were not about to lose your cool in front of eddie munson.

"let's just say we've both had a rough day, then. i'm trying to help her study for her biology exam and she can't focus with all the noise coming from here." you state, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. eddie's eyes squinted down at you, and you could see his nose scrunch as he scoffs at you.

"it's not just noise, mayfield. it's music. i'm not surprised you don't know the difference, though, considering all you do is blast bowie and fleetwood mac." you can tell by his voice that he was irritated, and you almost have to stifle a laugh. he's shaking his head slightly, his wavy hair falling around his shoulders. he sees your grin, though, and he pauses. "is something funny?" he asks, moving one of his hands up to grab a piece of his hair and twirling it in front of his face.

"you can't diss stevie nicks, eddie. that's, like, sacrilegious," you tease, your grin growing a little wider as you speak. you've always known how passionate eddie was for his music, and that was honestly something you respected him for. he wasn't afraid to simply be himself, even if this town hated him for it. eddie munson wasn't a freak, he just had unique interests that made him stand out. and in hawkins, standing out was the last thing anyone wanted to do.

eddie continues to twirl his hair around his finger for a moment before throwing his hands out wide. "oh, haven't you heard? i'm a devil worshipper, y/n. being sacrilegious is the least of my worries," he declares, taking a few dramatic steps down the stairs. he stops when he's in front of you, and you realize how much taller he is as you tilt your head back slightly to maintain eye contact. your fingers fiddle nervously with the buttons on your flannel, but you don't back down.

"devil worshipper or not, it's very childlike of you to be judging others for their taste in music just because it doesn't match your own. i'm not hating on you for playing metallica at all hours of the night, just simply asking you to turn it down a notch." you reply, suddenly wondering how the conversation strayed this way. and how he knew what music you liked to listen to. this was a mistake, you thought, maybe i should just take a bath instead of smoke tonight. with that decided, you gave eddie a small wave before starting to back trek to your trailer.

"you could tell that i was playing metallica tonight?" eddie called out at you from behind suddenly. with a sigh, you turned back around, catching him looking at you with an eyebrow raised. you couldn't help but roll your eyes. "yes, munson, i could tell it was metallica. it's their newest song, right?" you asked, putting your hands on your hips as you stood in the middle of the gravel road. you could tell that your response shocked eddie, and it made you smile. "i don't just listen to bowie and fleetwood mac, hon."

those big brown eyes of his widened, and suddenly a smile lit up his face. "there are layers to you, mayfield. i like it," he whispered while pointing a finger at you. "you know, i've actually heard a lot about you, my lady. especially from my dear friend, rick." his grin grew even bigger with his last remark, and it was your turn to look at him with a raised eyebrow. you couldn't fathom why rick would talk about you to anyone, least of all eddie munson. it wasn't like rick knew everything there was to know about you, but sometimes he would let you try out a new strain of weed he had gotten, and you never could control what slipped from your mouth then. that's why you always preferred getting high in the comfort of your own bedroom.

"and are you planning on sharing what you've heard, or are you just trying to hang it over my head?" you asked, tilting your head to the side slightly. your hair fell down your face, and eddie's eyes trailed the movement, causing your face to flush as you pushed it back. he began pacing, occasionally glancing at you before leaning against the railing of the stairs, reaching behind him to hold on to the wood.

"i'm sure it's stuff you already know," he joked, winking at you as he laughed. when eddie laughs, his whole face lights up. his eyes get bright, his smile so wide that you can see the lines around his mouth curve. it's the type of reaction that makes you want to try to get him to laugh again, even if it's at your expense. you watch as he squats down, his plaid pants tightening around his thighs as he runs a finger through the grass in front of him.

"it's mostly just the basics, i guess. you dropped outta school, picked up two jobs, started being very motherly towards your dear sister. i can only imagine how stressed out you must be. makes a man wonder how you handle it all," he tilts his head up to look at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. you immediately understand the direction he's going with his, and it's enough to make you roll your eyes.

"eddie, if you're talking to reefer rick about me, i'm pretty sure you can imagine what i'm doing to handle my stress." your gaze is as heated as your tone, and he definitely picks up on that. he holds his hands up, frowning slightly.

"woah there, mayfield. i'm not accusing you of anything. we all need a little something now and then to take the edge off. your secret is safe with me," he tosses you another wink, and you push down the wave of butterflies it sends to your stomach. you really should be going back inside, back to max. she's probably wondering what's taking you so long. and yet for some reason, you can't seem to feel the urge to actually want to leave. surprisingly, you like talking to eddie. there's something about him that's so disarming, and there's a part of you that wants to sit on the grass next to him and talk to him until the sun rises.

you watch as he stands back up, wiping his hands off against his pants. "in fact," he continues, giving you a glance before moving to jump up the steps. "i think you could use a little something right now. you feelin' on the edge tonight, mayfield?" he asks, almost softly, gazing down at you with his big eyes. his tone is teasing, but his eyes show how genuine he is in asking that. how much he actually does care. it's his eyes that essentially bring down your walls, and you find yourself wrapping your arms around your middle and nodding slightly in response.

"just a bit," you whisper, feeling tears burn in your eyes suddenly. too many emotions were swelling up inside you, and you felt close to breaking down, which was an unexpected turn of events for you. usually, you're able to push down these feelings until max was asleep. you'd go through the motions of getting ready for bed, but instead of heading to your bedroom, you would escape outside and sit on the stairs leading up to your front door. you would cry until you simply couldn't, and then you'd tuck your knees up under your chin and hug yourself until you felt strong enough to go back inside. you always figured the night was the safest time do let go, the time when no one else would notice you breaking down. but the look in eddie's eyes have you wondering if you've had an audience some nights.

his gaze is soft, and he has the smallest of smiles on his face, more sympathetic than anything else. he holds up a finger, muttering "one second," before dipping back into his trailer. you use this time to blow out a loud sigh, wiping your eyes with the sleeves of your flannel and trying to make yourself seem like less of a mess. you can hear a few things being knocked over or dropped in the trailer, and you walk to the bottom of the stairs, concerned. "eddie?"

he bursts out of the door quickly, nearly tripping on the doorstep. his hair flies behind him as he gathers his balance. he makes his way towards the step in front of you, grinning, and when he's near you, he holds out his hand. you see a small baggie nestled in his palm, and the urge to grab it hits you hard, but you restrain yourself. in all your desperation, you forgot a key factor needed to make this a done deal - money. just yesterday you spent what you had left of your two paychecks on helping with the electric bill and getting groceries for the three of you. what little savings you had in your account was saved back for max, in case she needed anything.

looking up, you give eddie a small smile but start to shake your head. "i really appreciate the gesture, but i... i can't really afford to buy this right now. thank you, though." at your response, eddie simply laughs and reaches down to grab your wrist. he brings your hand up and drops the baggie into your own palm dramatically, curling his fingers over yours so that you’re holding it in your fist now. you watch him with furrowed eyebrows the entire time, confused.

"no charge, mayfield. knowing that i helped you get back from the edge is enough for me, alright?" he says quietly, still holding your hand within his own. the two of you stand like that, frozen in time, for a moment before his gaze lifts over your shoulder. a grin encompasses his face, and he turns his eyes back on you. "i'd ask if you wanted to come in, but it looks like someone is waiting for you back there." he nods his head in the direction of your trailer, and you turn your head to look, catching a glimpse of max in the window before the curtain closes quickly. you can't help but laugh, and when you turn back to eddie, his eyes are locked on your hand in his.

when he realizes you're looking at him, he clears his throat and drops his hand away, shoving both of his into the pockets of his flannel pants. the action makes you blush, and in a sudden act of bravery, you tilt up on your tiptoes, leaning forward to press a small kiss against eddie's cheek. "thank you, munson."  the smell of smoke and his aftershave fills your nose as you pull away, and you start to back away slowly from the landing. eddie's head turns, and he blinks slowly, almost sleepily, and gives you one of his grins. you don't even bother trying to suppress the butterflies again.

"don't be a stranger, mayfield." he calls out at you as you make your way back to your trailer. when you reach your door, you turn back around, noticing that eddie was waiting for you to make it back. giving him a small wave, you finally head back inside, hiding the little baggie within your sleeve so that max wouldn't see it. when your door is shut, you lean against it, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

if being desperate meant having more interactions with eddie munson, maybe it wasn't such a bad thing to be after all.

[periwinkle-the-11th]

"You're Not Allowed To Get Married Till You're 30." - a very tired, very proud dad-brother.

word count: 809

Keith & Shiro, Mentioned Klance, Mentioned Past Adashi.

Broganes, Fluff, Keith wants to spend the rest of his life with Lance, and Shiro just doesn't want his kid to get married yet.

-

"Shiro '' Keith said, the seriousness in his voice underlined with a sort of gleeful terror that made the aforementioned man tense immediately, and whip around to ask what was wrong.

Before he could turn on worried dad mode, his boy interrupted him. "I think Lance is it." There was shock still wide in his eyes as if he'd had the realization and immediately ran to tell his brother.

That same shock Shiro was sure was reflected in his own eyes as his mouth fell slightly open. They'd talked about it before, finding 'the one', someone you clicked with, that just felt right, the way he and Adam did (had? Shiro was still so in love with him it hurt, but when he'd left the planet the love of his life wouldn't even look him in the eye).

Shiro had always hoped that Keith would find that same love, that happiness. (hopefully without the crashing and burning.)

Of course hope and belief are two very different things and Shiro had spent many years reflecting on how rare a love like his and Adams was, he knew it wasn't incredibly likely but he'd still hoped.

Shiro swallowed down the lump of emotions in his throat (he was so goddamn proud of his little boy).

 "You're sure?" he asked, happy tears already springing to his eyes.

Keith just nodded and Shiro noticed he was teary eyed as well. 

Shiro stepped forward to wrap him in a hug smiling at how quickly it was returned. 

"He's my forever Shiro." the younger spoke, slightly muffled, into his chest. As they pulled apart, Shiro was absolutely beaming with pride.

Keith giggled at the expresion before schooling his face into something much more serious. 

"I wanna spend the rest of my life with him" his voice was awestruck as if he couldn't believe he'd truly fallen that deeply in love.

Shiro knew the feeling.

The words caught up to him just a second later. He knew that train of thought. He knew that train of thought very well. Too well. That very same train of thought had led to him proposing at 18 even if Adam didn't actually agree to marry him till they were 26. they'd never regretted marrying young but he now firmly believes they should have waited longer. He wondered if Adam regretted marrying him, regretted loving the one who wouldn't choose his lover over his job.

"You're not allowed to get married till you're 30." he said, voice stern in the way it often had to be when Keith wanted to do something impulsive that he wouldn't regret until very many years in the future.

As his Older Brother it was his responsibility to keep Keith from doing those things at all.

The outrage was evident on Keith's face immediately. "What!? That is such bullshit! You got married at 20 something!"

Shiro sighed, he really should have expected an argument, lord knows that if his father had told him he wasn't allowed to marry Adam he would have had a conniption fit.

"I know you love him but you're both too young." he said hoping his brother would see reason.

"You're a fuckin hypocrite." Keith muttered pouting and glaring like a toddler.

Shiro rolled his eyes before turning around to get them both glasses of water.

Leaning back against the kitchen counter after handing Keith a glass he asked "Do you how many times I proposed to Adam before he actually agreed to marry me?" Shiro knew he'd never mentioned it so unless Adam had at some point brought it up Keith shouldn't know.

Keith’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion as he processed the question. 

"What do you mean how many times you proposed? You proposed to him more than once?"

Shiro chuckled "I probably proposed to him a hundred times before he said yes"

"But.. why? Weren't you guys in love?"

Shrugging Shiro answered "He didn't want to marry young, I accepted that. I did ask him once every year though, just in case he changed his mind."

"Huh" Keith looked as though his whole world had been flipped on its head.

"So.. how many times exactly did you propose?" Keith asked, finally taking a sip of his water.

"Seven."

He very quickly spit out that water.

"SEVEN TIMES!?"

Shiro shrugged again nonchalantly "Yeah, once a year, he didn't say yes till we we're 25, and we didn't actually get married till 26."

Keith continued to stare at him, dumbfounded. 

"Are you telling me." he paused "Are you seriously telling me you started proposing at eighteen?"

Chuckling he grabbed Keith's glass and set it on the counter before pulling him into a hug. 

"That is a story for another time kiddo." Shiro sighed contentedly "you do know how proud of you I am right?"

Keith laughed at him, “Yeah Dad, I know.”

[natromanxoff]

Queen live at Elland Road in Leeds, UK - May 29, 1982 (Part-2)

Fan Stories

“We got a coach from my home town (about 2 hours from memory) and drank an ocean of lager on the way, by the time we got there we needed the toilet so badly we could have exploded! We got into the stadium and waited for the first band of the day. Soon enough a not very well known (to me) American band came on called Heart. They weren't bad but did nothing for me. Then came The Teardrop Explodes who tried and who I reckoned did quite well despite the flying bottles of liquid being hurled at them from the crowd. After them was Joan Jett complete with Blackhearts who got the crowd going with "I Love Rock'n'Roll" mainly because Brian appeared at the side of the stage with his daughter to have a look. Eventually after a long wait the stage lights dimmed and a strange cranking sound started up and then you were suddenly aware of the drum beat to Flash thumping out and spotlights chasing around the stadium. This went on for a minute or so and the excitement was unbearable. All of a sudden in an explosion of smoke, lights, guitars, drums... Brian, John and Roger are there blasting out the opening part of The Hero. Seconds later in a gleaming white leather jacket out runs Freddie and it begins... A moment I will never forget along with many others from Queen shows since and before it. I can't say which show was my favourite as I loved them all but that moment WAS Queen, the sheer power, the anticipation, the fantastic musical ability and above all else the way they gave people what they crave more than anything... wonderful memories.” - whiteman

“29th May 1982 - a really nice warm day. We only lived a few miles away so walked down to Elland Road - I can't believe it - Queen live in my home town at the home of the greatest football team in the country (well maybe not now!). Got to the ground early and were allowed in by security, such a relaxed atmosphere. Saw band's soundcheck - great! So hot sun, never went behind stadium roofs. Got best suntan I have ever had! Heard Teardrop Explodes - not bad. Then you are aware of the beat of flash thumping out around the stadium, the smoke rises and bang - they are on! The greatest gig I have ever seen from the greatest live band in history. God bless you, Brian, Roger and John. Rest in peace, Freddie - we will never forget.” - Michael Quine

“This was my second ever gig, the first being Rory Gallagher the year before (I am sure I once read that Rory was one of Brian May's favourite guitarists). Anyway, being only 14 and not yet in the habit of getting off my face at gigs,I can remember that day very clearly. I am convinced I saw someone throw a hamburger at Julian Cope (Teardrop Explodes were going down like a lead balloon), and just as Julian was opening his gob to sing, he CAUGHT IT IN HIS MOUTH. A huge cheer went up, then they stomped off. Somebody, possibly Queen's manager, came on and told everbody to behave. I also remember a fan getting on stage and Freddie expertly rolling him off the stage. I didnt like the Hot Space album much but was chuffed they were still a hard rock band. I bought the next edition of Kerrang mag and the write up of the gig said STUNNING. Great memory.” - Edwin

“I was 15 years old in 1982 when I attended my first ever concert. Fortunately for me, it was QUEEN's show at Leeds AFC ground in the North of England. I remember when my ticket arrived in the post, possibly 2-3 months before the concert, as was often the case in those days. I stuck my ticket on a cork notice board in my bedroom and could barely contain my excitement over the coming weeks. Every morning, I would wake up and look at the yellow ticket, wishing the days away. I imagined everything that could go wrong would. Queen would cancel the gig, I would break my leg, the family pet would die on the morning of the concert and it would be too insensitive of me to go, the transport wouldn't turn up or would break down, there would be a pile up on the motorway, I'd lose my ticket en route, etc, etc. As it turned out, May 29th 1982 was a hot and sunny day, perfect weather for an outdoor gig. I was CRAZY about Queen and had been since the age of 9 but I really didn't know what to expect on that day. Myself and three friends took a coach organised by my Dad's company from Lancashire across the M62 motorway to Leeds. Our excitement began to really take a hold when we arrived at the football ground and we followed the droves of people towards the turnstiles. To me, this was something on a really big scale and I could already hear the hum of the crowd inside. Not really believing that we were actually about to witness a Queen concert, we found our seats on the West Stand, offering a great view of the stage. I remember marvelling at Queen's new lighting rig and the equipment that adorned the stage, shining in the afternoon sunshine. The ground was almost full at this point and the pitch was heaving with people. The atmosphere was relaxed as people bathed in the sunshine. I remember two guys climbing the fence from the stand and attempting to get a better spot by running into the crowd and losing themselves on the pitch. Their efforts were in vain however as they were quickly located and ejected back into the stand by two security guards. We bought some black Hot Space tour shirts (I wore mine with pride until it literally fell apart) and a programme from a vendor inside the ground and waited for the first band to take the stage. A guy near us shouted and punched his way through Heart's set and then left just as they vacated the stage. Obviously not a Queen fan! The Teardrop Explodes suffered at the hands of the Queen congregation and found themselves battling against a shower of bottles and assorted missiles. Other than that, I don't really remember much about the support bands. I think that Bow Wow Wow were billed to play (an odd choice) but I can't recall if they actually turned up. No matter, we were about to witness what is still one of the best gigs I have ever attended.

As the dusk descended upon us, the giant floodlights were extinguished one by one and the memory of the roar that followed still sends shivers down my spine. Dry ice drifted across the heads of the crowd on the pitch as the intro tape of Flash thumped out of the PA and the strange 'grating' noises added to the recording created a foreboding atmosphere. Two of our party were on the pitch and to this day remember their chests thumping in unison to the powerful rhythm. A sea of hands clapped in perfect time to the beat. To me, this was already an amazing experience. And then the big moment. Freddie, resplendent in dazzling white made his entrance to The Hero and the blaze of the lights. An apt number to start with. Before he had even sung a note, the audience were locked tightly in the palm of his hand. Such an entrance, such a showman. "You're a F***in amazing crowd", he exclaimed after the first rush. The beginning of the gig is, in truth, my strongest memory of the show itself. In particular, the "Flash!!!" vocals cutting through the night air with so much volume. I recall being shocked at the sheer power of Queen's performance and the clarity of the huge sound they harnessed. Morgan Fisher's keyboards during 'Action This Day' sounded bright and hypnotic. Freddie's intro to Fat Bottomed Girls caused quite a response too; "the bigger the t*t the better it is!". I also remember the follow spots darting wildly over the crowd during 'Tie Your Mother Down' and everybody going crazy. Oddly enough (and this is something I still swear by to this day), I was in a Maths lesson at school the following Monday and I swear I had a flashback of this and could actually 'hear' the music being re-played in my head. It was a weird moment and life was never quite the same again. We talked endlessly about our experience for months to come and one of my biggest regrets is not jumping on a train to attend the filmed Milton Keynes show a week later. Having been to so many gigs since, I can honestly say that there is nobody who has been able to top Queen live; I was lucky enough to see the band five times between 1982 and 1986, including Wembley Stadium and their last show at Knebworth. I think that my personal favourite was their performance at the NEC in Birmingham on 'The Works' tour in 1984. People were literally stood there with open mouths, unable to believe how good they were. Leeds is definitely up there too. I recall Brian May stating that he thought it was one of their best performances ever. I can't argue with that Mr May. I've often wondered if an audience shot cine film or even just photographs exist from the Leeds gig. It would be a dream come true to see my memories come to life again.” - Keith Lambert

“I can't believe it was 30 years ago that I attended my first ever gig at Elland Rd Leeds in 1982. I was 17 years old at the time, I was into Queen when I first heard seven seas of rhye, which was so different to all the other stuff around at the time. I'd heard them live on tv, and had Live Killers. Also I used to buy bootleg cassettes of all of their tours from 74 onwards. But nothing could prepare me for that day. They should have played this gig at Old Trafford Manchester, my home town, so I was gutted when the residents opposed it. Tickets were very easy to come by, believe it or not, cos Queen were not seen as a relevant band at that time. Also touring the Hot Space album didn't seem to excite anybody. So, Billy no mates had to go on his own, haha. My memory is a bit hazy, but I will try my best. I got to the ground about 1pm, and was lucky enough to have a pitch ticket. I got right to the front, well about 10 yards from the stage, slightly off centre and to the right. If I told you I never moved from that spot all day and never spoke to anyone, would you believe me? One of the reasons for this is the rivalry between Manchester and Leeds, also I was only a kid, haha. Not sure who was first on, probably Teardrop Explodes, Julian Cope, I remember while they were throwing bottles at him, picked one up and started hitting himself with it and stretching his arms out saying he was an Argentinian bomber or something. It was during the Falklands war, remember. Then Heart came on, not really my cup of tea, and I had a lie down on the tarpaulin and tried to go to sleep. Then Joan Jett, who was better than the rest, but not really exciting. During the band changes, I remember the roadies polishing Roger's drum kit and climbing up ropes and those threepronged lights, which before I saw them move I thought they were cameras. Queen took ages to come on. From my recollection and I might be wrong, they didn't come on until 10pm and went off around Midnight. I heard later that they got fined so much per minute for being late on stage but they wanted to wait until it was dark for the lighting rig to take effect. If you watch the Bowl DVD you will notice it was light when they came on stage there. But that was being filmed by Channel 4. But it was absolutely pitch black when they came on stage at Leeds. Then the floodlights went off, smoke started to appear and strange noises started, which I can't describe, sorry. Then Flash's Theme started, it was loud, very, very loud. I knew they were supposed to be loud and this was the part that scared me. The ground was thumping, the bass just pumping away. The these 'cameras' flicked into life, with men on them. The intro seemed to last for a very long time. Then BANG Brian appears with the first chord of The Hero and a flash of the biggest white light I've ever seen and will never forget and the absolute loudest noise I have ever heard just hit me. The intro was quite in comparrision to this. When I play Live at the Bowl, I tend to repeat the intro and The Hero, virtually every time, because it was definitely a life changing experience for me at that moment, just incredible. Then Freddie appeared in brilliant white again, I was that close, I swear His hair seemed blue because of the mass of white lights. His voice, so loud, so clear, honestly, I can't describe that moment properly. I heard Freddie swear, saw Roger spitting, quite a lot, over his drum kit and onto the stage, I was bewildered.

When they did Play The Game and also Somebody To Love, when Freddie was doing the intros for them and it will sound strange to those that weren't there, but I didn't know what the songs were. I thought they was new unreleased songs. The reason was they was so loud, It kind of deafened you and then kind of sunk in what they were about to play. Then the rest of the gig flew by and I was singing my head off. Everyone was, but you could only hear Queen. Again my memory may be wrong, but I read afterwards that Queen had paid for residents to move out of their homes for the day. These houses were monitored and they said that the sound was like Concorde flying 10 feet over your head... Yep I will buy that. For all that and for all the bad things said about it, The Works tour, which I went to all the 4 origional England gigs they had planned, was the best tour they ever did. The set list was fantastic and the lighting rig was incredible. Not as loud, I also add. I also saw them in Manchester, 86. They had to be off stage by 10pm and noise levels had to be adhered to. I was too far awy to see them and the screens didn't come on because it was too light. Also I couldn't here them properly. I've watched the mMagic Tour gigs on DVD etc, but for me, that was the poorest tour they ever did. So that's it, hopefully some of you can confirm my bad memory, or say I'm wrong. Hopefully not bored you all. But it was the greatest musical experience I ever witnessed and I am proud I was there.” - Paul Wakefield

Part-1

(x)

[dherzogblog]

The Birth of The Daily Show: 25 Years of Fake News and Moments of Zen

It was July of 1995 and I had left MTV to become President of Comedy Central. It was the basic cable equivalent of going from the NY Yankees to an expansion team. I was on the job just two weeks when I received a call from Brillstein Grey the high powered managers of Bill Maher, host of one of the networks few original programs, "Politically Incorrect". We were informed Bill and his show would leave the network when his contract expired in 12 months. It was a done deal. Bill wanted to take his show to the "big leagues" at ABC where he would follow Night Line. Comedy Central was left jilted. Terrible news for a network still trying to establish itself. We had a year to figure out how to replace him and the clock was ticking. So began the path to The Daily Show.

It was very much a fledgling Comedy Central I joined, available in barely 35 million homes, desperately seeking an identity and an audience. It was just over three years old, born into a shot gun wedding that joined two struggling and competing comedy networks, HBO’s Comedy Channel and Viacom’s HA!, Watching them both stumble out of the gate, the cable operators forced them to merge, telling them: "We only need one comedy channel, you guys figure it out”. After some contentious negotiations the new channel was born and the red headed step child of MTV and HBO set out to find the pop culture zeitgeist its parents had already expertly navigated. The network had yet to define itself. The programming consisted mainly of old stand up specials from the likes of Gallagher (never underestimate the appeal of a man smashing watermelons), a hodgepodge of licensed movies (“The God’s Must be Crazy and The Cheech and Chong trilogy were mainstays) and Benny Hill reruns. The networks biggest hit by far was the UK import “Absolutely Fabulous”, better know as “AbFab”. Comedy Central boasted a handful of original shows, including the wonderfully sublime "SquiggleVision" of “Dr. Katz”, the sketch comedy "Exit 57" (starring the then unknown Amy Sedaris and Stephen Colbert) and of course Maher’s "Politically Incorrect". In retrospect I don’t think Bill got enough credit for pioneering the idea of political comedy on mainstream TV. Back then he was the only one doing it.

Politically Incorrect performed just fine, but got more critical attention than ratings. It was a panel show, and I had something a bit different in mind to replace it. I knew we needed a flagship, a network home base, something akin to ESPN's Sports Center where viewers could go at the end of a the day for our comedic take on everything that happened in the last 24 hours….."a daily show". I had broad idea for it in my head. I would describe it as part "Weekend Update", part Howard Stern, with a dash of "The Today Show" on drugs complete with a bare boned format to keep costs low so we could actually afford to produce it. We could open with the headlines covering the day's events (our version of a monologue), followed by a guest segment (we wouldn't need to write jokes...only questions!), and finish with a taped piece. Simple, right? We just needed someone to help flesh out our vision.

Comedy Central was a a second tier cable channel then and considered a bit of a joke (no pun intended). It had minuscule ratings, no heat and even less money to spend. Producers were not lining up to work with there. Eileen Katz ran programming for the channel and the two of us began pitching this idea to every producer who would listen. One of the first people we approached was Madeleine Smithberg, an ex Letterman producer and had overseen "The Jon Stewart Show" for us at MTV. We thought she was perfect for the role. “You can’t do this, you can’t afford this, you don't have the stomach for this, it will never work ” Madeliene said when we met with her. We could not convince her to take the gig. Ok then....we moved on. The problem was we heard that same refrain from everybody. No one wanted the job. So after weeks being turned down by literally EVERYONE, I said to Eileen: “We have to go back to Madeleine and convince her to do this with us"!

Part our pitch to her was we would go directly to series. There would be no pilot. The show was guaranteed to go on air. We had decided this show was our to be our destiny and we had to figure it out come hell or high water. As a 24 hour comedy channel, if we couldn't figure out a way to be funny and fresh every day...what good were we? We told Madeliene we were committed to putting the show on the air and keeping it there till we got it right (for at least a year anyway). That, plus some gentle arm twisting got her to sign on. Shortly after that, Lizz Winstead did too.

Madleiene and Lizz very quickly landed on their inspired notion of developing the show and format as a news parody. It brought an immediate focus and a point of view to the process . All of the sudden things started to take shape and coming to life. Great ideas started flowing fast and furious while an amazing collection of funny and talented began to come on board. Madeliene and Lizz were off to the races. Now all we needed was a host.

The prime time version of ESPN's Sports Center was hosted by Dan Patrick and Keith Olbermann back then and it was must see cable TV. But I had recently started to notice another guy hosting the show's late night edition. He was funny, with a snarky delivery reminiscent of Dennis Miller. His name was Craig Kilborn. On the phone with CAA agent Jeff Jacobs one day, I asked if he knew happened to know who repped him? “I do" he said. "We just signed him”. Within days he was in my office along with Madeleine, Lizz, and Eileen who were all a bit skeptical about the tall blond guy with the frat boy vibes sitting across from them. After opening the meeting with a few off color comments that would probably get him cancelled today (an early warning sign fo sure), Craig ultimately won them over and we had our host.

FUN FAC#1: Minutes after the news of Craig's hiring went public, Keith Olberman's agent called me directly to ask why we hadn't considered hiring him?

Ok, we had a host and producers...but what to call it? After sifting through dozens of ideas for a title, Madeleine called me one day and said, "I think we should just call it what we've been calling it all along...."The Daily Show". As we approached our launch date we taped practice shows and took them out to focus groups to get real life feedback. The groups hated it.... I mean with a red hot hate. They hated Craig, the format, the jokes, everything. We were crushed and dejectedly looked around at the room at one another. "Now what?" “Either they’re wrong, or we are". I said I think they are...but it doesn’t matter, we're doing this!" We never looked back.

The show took off quickly garnering some quick buzz and attention, we felt like we had crashed the party. Well, sort of. We had no shortage of fun, growing pains and drama along the way. The Daily Show version 1.0 was about to unravel. In a December 1997 magazine interview Craig made some truly offensive and inappropriate remarks about Lizz and female members of the staff. Whether it was poor attempt at humor or just plain misogynist (or both) is beyond the point. It was all wrong, very wrong. Craig was suspended for a week without pay. Lizz left the show. In the moment I chose to protect the show and its talent more so than Lizz. That was wrong too. It's more than cringe worthy looking back now, and I regret not making some better decisions then. My loyalty to our host was later "rewarded" when in the Spring of 1998 Kilborn's team, a la Bill Maher, unceremoniously informed us he had signed a deal to follow Letterman on CBS when his contract expired at the end of the year. No discussion, a done deal. Comedy Central jilted again. Like Maher, Kilborn wanted his shot at the network big leagues and we had a little over six months to figure out how to replace him. We all know how that chapter ended. That search would eventually reunite us with Jon Stewart who along with The Daily Show took Comedy Central and basic cable to the "the big leagues" on their own terms, redefining late night comedy in the process The rest, as they say, is "Fake News" history.

Fun Fact #2: before approaching Jon (who I did not originally think would be interested) I initially offered the job to a chunkier, largely unknown Jimmy Kimmel, fresh off his co hosting duties on "Win Ben Stein's Money" ...only to have him turn us down.

My fascination with late night began as a kid. I remember how exciting it was to stay up to sneak a peek at the Carson monologue and watch him do spit takes with his chummy Hollywood guests. Later on I also loved the heady adult conversation Dick Cavett would have with everyone from Sly Stone to Groucho Marx. But it was the comedic revolution of Saturday night Live in 1975, followed by Letterman's game changing show in 1981 that truly established late night as the coolest place on the television landscape. I could only dream of one day being part of it.

25 years on, I couldn’t be more proud of The Daily Show and its legacy. Those days helping build it alongside Madeleine, Lizz, Eileen and the team were among the most satisfying (and fun) experiences I have ever had. It was thrilling to take a shot at the late night landscape and try and make our mark, especially when no one thought we could.

I am prouder still of what Trevor Noah and his staff have achieved since they took the hand off from Jon, evolving and growing the show through a new voice and lens. I think my personal "Moment Of Zen" will last as long as Trevor remains behind the desk, allowing me to selfishly boast of having hired every host this award winning and culture defining franchise has ever had.

25 years later. it remains as relevant as ever, a bona fide late night institution, standing shoulder to shoulder with all the great shows that inspired us to start.