#he never got over the end of led zeppelin

[thecodeisveroncia]

Jimmy when he was with the firm, 1984

[biblical-chronicles]

Forbidden frequencies

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where an unsuspecting Noel ends up with Albarn's sister, to the dismay of both Damon and Liam.

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The bell above the record shop door jingled softly as Noel Gallagher stepped inside, shaking off the chill of an autumn afternoon. The place had a kind of hidden charm, tucked away down a narrow ginnel like a secret only the dedicated could uncover. The handwritten “Open” sign swayed slightly in the breeze outside. Inside, the smell of old vinyl, wood, and dust filled the air, the faint strains of Abbey Road playing from a crackling speaker overhead. Noel exhaled slowly, tension melting from his shoulders.

This was his kind of place—no frills, no nonsense, just walls of records and the occasional nod from someone else who understood the quiet reverence of a good tune. No one here cared who he was, so long as he didn’t bend the sleeves or skip the queue.

He meandered through the aisles, fingers flipping idly through racks of records. There was no rush, just the occasional pause when a familiar cover caught his eye. He stopped at Never mind the bollocks, pulling it free to admire the striking neon sleeve. He was about to tuck it under his arm when he noticed you a few feet down.

You stood in front of a Beatles section, holding what seemed like a first press copy of Rubber Soul. Your fingers trailed lightly over the cover, and there was a thoughtful little crease between your brows. Something about the way you handled the record—deliberate but confident—caught his attention.

“Good pick,” Noel said, the words slipping out before he thought better of it.

Your head turned sharply, eyes widening just a fraction before softening into a smile. “Oh, thanks. Hard to go wrong with the Beatles, though, isn’t it?”

“Unless you’re one of those nutters who reckon Yellow Submarine beats Please Please Me,” he quipped, his lips tugging into a smirk.

Your laugh was quick and warm. “God, no. I’ve got standards.” Tilting the record toward him, you asked, “This one a favorite of yours?”

“Of course,” he said, stepping closer. “Masterpiece, that is. Melodies are something else. Proper record for those nights when everything’s gone to shit.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh, yeah? What’s a lad like you got to brood about?”

Noel chuckled, sensing the tease. “Oh, the usual. Love, life, and trying not to strangle me brother.”

You laughed again, the sound drawing a grin from him. “Fair. And you? This your favorite?” He inquired.

You hesitated, then shrugged. “Depends on the day. Sometimes it’s Revolver, sometimes Sgt. Peppers. Today? This one just feels right.”

“Good instinct,” Noel said, nodding approvingly. “Though if you’re in a deep-cut mood, you can’t go wrong with The White Album. That’s chaos done right.”

Your eyes lit up at his words, and you leaned in slightly. “Exactly! It’s messy, but it works. Like everyone’s throwing ideas into the air, and somehow they all land perfectly.”

He blinked, caught off guard by how excitedly you’d summed up what he’d always thought. “Spot on. It’s like it’s alive, y’know?”

You smiled, and for a moment, the two of you stood there, the noise of the shop fading into the background.

“You’ve got good taste,” you said, gesturing at the record in his hand. “What’re you grabbing?”

Noel held up his record. “Bit of Sex Pistols. Can’t go wrong with a bit of punk.”

Your smile widened. “Can't say yer wrong, but Rotten did leg it when McCartney appraoched him, so what was that for a punk?”

Noel’s grin turned genuine. “You know yer stuff. Most people don't go after the deeper stories.”

“Well, I’m not most people,” you quipped, the hint of a challenge in your tone.

He chuckled. “Reckon you’re not. What else are you picking up?”

You gestured to the small stack under your arm. “Bit of Sabbath, some Led Zeppelin, a Yes album I’ve been meaning to check out for ages.”

“Eclectic,” Noel said, raising an eyebrow. “Not many people with range like that.”

You tilted your head, feigning a modest shrug. “You calling me special?”

“Maybe I am,” he replied, his smirk softening slightly.

The conversation flowed easily after that, topics shifting from music to gigs to the state of modern radio. Your wit was quick, matching him word for word, and he found himself fumbling once or twice which was a rarity for him.

Eventually, you glanced at your watch and sighed. “I should probably go before I spend my entire paycheck here.”

“Smart move,” Noel said, though a pang of reluctance crept into his voice.

“Nice meeting you Noel, was it?”

“Yeah. And you?”

Your smile turned playful. “Guess you’ll have to figure that out.”

You gave a small wave and disappeared out the door, the bell jingling faintly behind you.

Noel lingered for a moment, staring at the spot you’d just vacated. “Idiot,” he muttered. “Didn’t even get her bloody number.”

A few days later, he was nursing a pint at the Top of the Pops awards. The usual chaos of flashing cameras, egos, and far too many people crowded into the space made the atmosphere feel almost suffocating. Liam was beside him, ranting about something he couldn’t care less about. He kept half an ear on Liam’s rambling, but his gaze was elsewhere, drifting across the room with a lazy, detached air.

And then, his eyes landed on you.

You were standing by the far side of the room, looking quite relaxed despite the glitzy surroundings. You were mid-laugh, your glass in hand, and the way you held yourself made it clear you were in your element. Noel froze for a moment, his drink halfway to his lips.

“Oi, Liam,” he muttered, nudging his brother, but not tearing his eyes away from you.

“What now?” Liam grumbled, clearly irritated at being interrupted.

Noel jerked his chin toward you. “That girl over there. You recognize her?”

Liam followed Noel’s gaze, and his face lit up with a wicked grin. “No way. That’s the bird from the shop that you've been on about, innit?”

“Yeah,” Noel muttered, already regretting pointing you out.

But Liam was already on a roll. “Oh, mate, you’re mad’ for her, aren’t ya? Look at you, all shifty. Noel Gallagher, lost for words—this is priceless.”

“Will you shut it?” Noel snapped, his cheeks flushing despite himself.

Liam wasn’t deterred, still grinning. “Hang on—wait a minute.” He squinted again, his eyes narrowing. “Is that… is that not Albarn’s sister? Y/N?”

Noel blinked, his stomach sinking. “What are you on about?”

“I’m tellin’ ya, that’s Damon’s sister,” Liam said, looking far too pleased with himself. “Seen her around with Blur’s lot before. Bloody hell, Noel. That’s messy even for you.”

Noel groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “You sure?”

“Positive,” Liam said, leaning in conspiratorially. "And let me tell ya, if Albarn finds out, he’ll go off his bloody rocker, mate. I’m not buzzin’ about the idea either, to be fair. You don’t go mixin’ with the other lot, do ya? We are like royalty here, y’know what I’m sayin’? So yeah, I’d think twice about that, Noel. Might be some trouble you don’t wanna get into."

Noel glanced back at her, biting the inside of his cheek. She did look a bit like Damon now that Liam had mentioned it, but somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Chemistry like theirs didn’t come around often, and he wasn’t about to let it slip away because of some band rivalry, and Liam's not so sober rant.

“Can’t choose your siblings, can ya?” he muttered under his breath. “Look at me and you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Liam shot back, but Noel ignored him, already stepping away.

He made his way through the crowd, trying to be casual but feeling his pulse quicken as he neared your table.

You spotted him before he even spoke. Your eyes widened slightly, recognition dawning, and a smile spread across your face.

“Noel! Hi,” you said, setting your glass down on the table.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said, slipping into a smirk. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just trying to survive the madness,” you said, gesturing around at the chaotic room. “What about you?”

“Same,” he said, leaning in casually against the edge of the table. “Thought I’d step over and say hello. Fancy a smoke?”

You hesitated for just a moment, then your smile grew. “Yeah, give me a sec.”

Noel nodded, then turned to head toward the exit. He didn’t look back—trying to play it cool, but his pulse was quickening, and he couldn’t stop the small grin tugging at his lips.

Back at your table you were scrambling to reach for your bag as quick as possible, yet just as you wanted to leave Damon appeared by your side.

“What was that?” he asked, his voice low but tense.

You turned to face him “What was what?”

“That,” Damon said, gesturing toward the direction Noel had gone. “Why was he talking to you?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you sighed, rolling your eyes. “He just came over to say hi. What’s your problem?”

“My problem,” Damon hissed, “is that it’s Noel Gallagher. You know exactly what he’s like.”

“And?” you shot back, raising an eyebrow. “We were just talking. Calm down, Damon.”

Damon frowned, his frustration mounting. “You shouldn’t be talking to him. Trust me on this.”

You only shook your head, brushing him off. “I’m going outside. I need some air.”

Before Damon could respond, you slipped through the crowd and walked towards the exit.

The cool night air hit you as you stepped outside, a refreshing change from the claustrophobic heat inside. You spotted Noel immediately, leaning against the wall a little way down the pavement, a cigarette already hanging from his lips.

He looked up as you approached, his gaze steady but soft.

“Thought I’d lost you,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Not a chance,” you said, pulling a cigarette from the bag you grabbed earlier.

Noel raised an eyebrow as you held it between your fingers, clearly waiting for a light. Instead of fumbling for a lighter, he leaned forward, the tip of his cigarette glowing as he inhaled deeply.

“Here,” he said, tilting his head slightly, holding the burning end close enough for you to light yours from it.

You stepped closer, leaning in, eyes locked on his as you inhaled allowing for the cigarette to catch the flame. For a moment, you lingered there, feeling the faint scent of smoke mixing with his cologne.

“Thanks,” you said softly, leaning back and taking a slow drag.

“No bother,” he replied, his voice low.

You stood there for a moment, the sounds of the city humming faintly in the background. There was something about the way you looked at him, your gaze warm but curious, it made Noel feel completely at ease.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?” he asked, taking a drag from his own cigarette.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again after the shop,” you admitted, your lips curving into a faint smile.

“Funny,” he said, exhaling smoke. “I was thinking the same.”

The conversation flowed easily after that, the same unspoken rhythm you’d had in the record shop taking over. Every laugh, every sideways glance felt charged, like there was something electric in the air between you.

Noel was just starting to feel comfortable—too comfortable—when the door behind you slammed open.

“Oi, Noel, you got a fag or what?” Liam’s voice cut through the night, loud and unmistakable.

Noel sighed, already fishing for his pack. But Liam froze mid-step, his eyes narrowing as they landed on you.

“Oh, for—what did I just tell you?” Liam said, pointing accusingly. “I warned ya, Noel. Warned ya!”

“Warned him about what?” came another voice, sharp and angry.

You turned to see Damon standing in the doorway, his expression thunderous.

“Knew I couldn’t trust you,” Damon said, stalking over. “What’re you doing out here with him?”

“She’s just having a smoke,” Noel said evenly, though his jaw tightened.

Damon ignored him, glaring at you. “You shouldn’t even be near him. I told you.”

“And I told you to calm down,” you said firmly, rolling your eyes.

“Don’t talk to them like that,” Liam interjected, stepping closer to Damon. “Who d’you think you are? Telling me brother what to do?”

Damon whirled on Liam. “Stay out of it, Gallagher. This doesn’t concern you.”

“It bloody does now, doesn’t it?” Liam shot back, puffing out his chest.

Before anyone could stop them, the two were shouting at each other, their insults escalating with every exchanged word.

Noel sighed, shaking his head. “Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath.

You glanced at him, your lips twitching into a grin. “Fancy sneaking off?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Noel said, smirking as you reached for his hand.

Fingers intertwined, you slipped away unnoticed, leaving the chaos behind you.

You and Noel didn’t stop moving until the shouting from Liam and Damon faded behind you, replaced by the low murmur of distant conversations and the occasional clink of glasses from a nearby bar. You turned a corner, ducking into a quiet ginnel, the chaos of the club left far behind.

Noel took a deep breath, his lips twisting into that signature lopsided smirk. “Well, that was a bit of a disaster, wasn’t it?”

You chuckled, the sound light and genuine. “Disaster’s one word for it. You alright?”

“Me?” he scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “I’m sound, love. Used to Liam mouthing off at everyone. Not sure your brother’s got the stamina to keep up with the master, though.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “Damon’s always like that. Gets his knickers in a twist over nothing.”

“Well, I reckon I'm gonna make his knickers twisted like never before” Noel said humorously, leaning against the wall, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

“You’re not wrong,” you admitted, stepping in beside him. “But don’t take it too personally. He just thinks he’s looking out for me.”

“Bit late for that, innit? Considering you’re already out here with me.” His tone was playful, but there was an edge to it—like he knew exactly what kind of trouble he was getting into.

You glanced over at him, feeling a smile creep onto your face. You didn’t need to speak for a second; the laughter in the air shifted to something quieter, more intimate. You caught your gaze dropping to your intertwined hands, and for a moment, neither of you had let go, your fingers still locked together, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Noel noticed your gaze and followed it, his smirk faltering just a bit before he started to pull his hand back. “Oh—shit. Sorry—”

Before he could move too far, you caught his hand, stopping him with a gentle tug. “Don’t be,” you said, your voice softer now, your thumb lightly brushing over his skin.

Before Noel could reply, you were closer, your free hand lightly brushing against his arm, and then your lips met his.

For a moment, he was completely still, surprised—then, like it was second nature, he tightened his grip on your hand, pulling you closer. His other hand found your waist, steadying you as you both fell into the kiss.

It wasn’t slow, not really. The heat between you was instant, the kind of kiss that had been waiting to happen for far too long. The world around you seemed to disappear entirely as he deepened the kiss, the sharp taste of smoke and alcohol mixing with the cool night air.

You kissed him back, the pressure building, hands wandering as the night stretched out like it could last forever. His lips were demanding, yet there was a tenderness there, as if he was trying to make sure he wasn’t pushing you too fast, too hard. But you didn’t want slow.

The kiss deepened again, no hesitation now—just the two of you, tangled together in the ginnel, with only the sound of your breath and the pulse of desire filling the space between you. Noel’s hand slid lower, pulling you flush against him, his fingers splayed wide as if he couldn’t get close enough.

When you finally broke apart, both of you breathless, Noel didn’t pull away, his forehead resting lightly against yours. He grinned, but it was different now, more genuine than his usual cheeky smirk. “Didn’t see that coming,” he murmured, his voice low, thick with surprise and something else—something deeper.

You let out a soft laugh, still catching your breath. “Neither did I,” you said, your lips still tingling from the kiss.

“Not that I’m complaining” he added quickly, his smirk returning with a new glint in his eyes.

You laughed again, louder this time, the sound making him smile wider, his hands still lingering on you. For a moment, you just stood there, caught up in each other, the rest of the world and its noise slipping into the background.

Noel’s grin softened, and for the first time in a while, there was something in his eyes that wasn’t just mischief. Something real.

"You're trouble," he murmured, the words just a whisper against your skin.

“Only for you,” you shot back, your fingers tracing his jaw, an unspoken promise hanging in the air between you.

And just like that, you both knew: This wasn’t over, and both Liam and Damon had to come to terms with that.

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I am dead tired, but hope you lot liked that. Got a couple more lush stories about Noel to bang out this weekend so keep an eye out xx

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Spencer Reid Masterlist: Fics

In order from Newest to Oldest. Last Updated: 02/26/24

Spencer Reid Series

Key: Personal Favs:✨ Requested:🔹 Angst:🔴 Fluff:🟡 Smut:🟣

Last Last Time ✨🔴 What if 'First Date' was just severely more complicated, and hurt a thousand times more? What if you had never walked out the door? What if Spencer had never met Cat Adams? Alternate Ending ✨🔹🔴🟡

You 🔴✨ a small fic inspired by the loss of someone, and how Spencer feels about it.

Truth or Dare 🔹🔴 Request!: "okay so i'm thinking post!prison reid and reader break up bc he's not ready to be in a relationship after everything that happened in prison. they just don't get back together bc when spence is finally ready it's been a while and they both think it's too late and no one makes a move and they remain as friends UNTIL jj's love confession brings some feelings back onto the surface - reader finds out about it and (cue jeid and their weird, longing glances🥲) has a whole it's all really over moment and then there's distance between her and spencer until there's a confrontation about it and BAM a love confession and second chances😁😁"

Lucky Me �� Just a cozy scenario where the reader is a wee bit drunk, and has a phenomenal idea, maybe inspired by a true story or two.

Symphonic Kisses 🟡 You give Spence a pretty damn good anniversary present.

Cold Feet 🔹🟡 Request!: "could u do Spencer Reid and childhood friends fem!reader with heavy pining and " it's always been u" at the end hurt/comfort ?"

Loving You 🔹🟡 Request!: "hiii!! congrats on the 500 followers 🤍 for your celebration, could i request 7 and 13 from the fluff prompts for spencer reid? thanks :]"

Never Let Me Go 🔹🔴 Request!: "hello !! rn i'm in the mood for some angst with a happy ending so can i request something where reader's got really bad abandonment issues? 🥹 maybe they fight over something which makes r leave ++ spence is confused bc it's so sudden n unlike them but it's all bc theyre scared he'll leave first n then it's just lots n lots of reassurance🥹🥹 thank you!!"

Unexpected Visitor 🟡 There are some things that the team does not know about, like you, for example. Some good, quick, Christmas fluff for your holiday enjoyment.

Pope and Circumstance 🔹 🟡 Request!: "Heyyyy!!!! I read that you were taking requests so I was wondering if you could write something for non BAU nerd reader and Spencer. Something sweet and comforting with a reader that’s a nerd but more on the language and literature side."

Birthday Present 🟡 You and Spencer enjoy a night in together.

New Shade of Green 🔹🔴 🟡 Request! "Hey idk if you're taking requests but I'd love to read a fic where Spencer Reid and reader are in established relationship and on a case it happens that reader's best friend since childhood assists. And Spencer gets really jealous of their close friendship but is in denial. A lot of angst but a fluffy ending."

Black Dog 🟡 Mornings with Spencer feel so good. Based on Led Zeppelin's Black Dog.

Cramps n Comfort 🔹🔴 🟡 Request! "Okay, Spencer comforting reader who has really bad period cramps and is just crying"

To Make Sure I Stay Sane 🔴 Based off of Six Below by Flipturn. What happeneds when your cover is blown? What do you do when you can never really recover from the shit you endure? pure angst.

Barbenheimer! 🔹 🟡 Request! "Reader takes Spencer to see Barbie, and he might just enjoy it more than he thinks he will."

Wired Frames 🔹 🟡 Request! "Spencer request: The team meets at a bar after they returning from a case and Spencer comes in looking dramatically different (like a nice new haircut and casual outfit and glasses) and the team / OC lose their minds"

Bad Day 🔹 🟡 Request: "spencer just comforting reader after a bad mental health day and helping them to take a break and shower/or bathe🌼🫶🏻"

Something Old, Something New 🔴 🟡 takes place during S7 Ep1, The Gang goes to court! Lawyer!Reader! Spencer is really over the senate committee, but something cools his head when he bumps into an old friend.

[apocalypseornaw]

Prove It (Pt 1/5)

Dean Winchester x Reader

A forgetten date, a broken heart. Can Dean fix what he broke and prove how much he loves you?

The sound of Dean's phone ringing felt like it echoed through your head. You groaned and buried your face in his chest, feeling the light rumble of his laughter underneath you. You listened as he answered the phone and best you could tell it was Garth on the other end asking for an assist.

Dean tapped your shoulder and when you looked up at him he motioned to the phone "It would be an overnight. Are you good with that?" You nodded already forming a plan to put the ideas that had been running through your head into action. If this hunt was an overnight that would put them getting home to the bunker the night of yours and Dean's sixth anniversary.

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

When Dean got off the phone he slid one finger under your chin to tilt your face up where he could place a kiss on your lips "You're being quiet and you have that face you make when you're planning something" you shrugged "Maybe I'm planning you a surprise for our anniversary"

A smile slipped onto his face before he pulled you on top of him. Once you were comfortably straddling him he reached up to gently cup the side of your face "Sweetheart you putting up with me for Six years is a surprise enough" You laughed then slapped his chest playfully "You're such a pain in the ass Dean!"

He rolled his hips up causing a gasp to leave your lips considering how sore you wore from him. His smile slipped into a smirk "You like when I'm a pain in other places" you shook your head then leaned down to place a quick kiss on his lips "You need to get dressed and update Sam"

He watched you crawl off of him before pouting "Fine, kick me out" You rolled your eyes and stood out of the bed grinning when Dean's eyes tracked your every movement.

Normally when the boys rolled out on a hunt you'd be in the impala right along with them so it was a little weird to be staying home but you knew for a fact Dean had never been given the opportunity of anything normal. Birthdays, holidays. He'd never had anyone celebrate him and that was what you intended to do.

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

You'd ended up tracking down a signed original pressing led zeppelin album for Dean. It had taken a four hour round trip drive to pick it up but you knew he'd love it.

The lack of noise in the bunker was making your ears ring so you ended up going to bed early. There was an apple pie already made in the fridge and waiting to be baked the following day along with a meal of all of Dean's favorites. Your plan was to have it still be nice and fresh when Dean got home.

You'd done everything that needed to be done around the bunker. Laundry was put away, weapons had gotten broke down and cleaned or sharpened. You'd even made some salt rounds.

You had one of Dean's mixed Playlists going as you pulled the pie out of the oven, sitting it aside so it could cool. Dinner of steak, potatoes and grilled veggies was already done as well.

You checked the time on your phone and felt a hit of nerves wash over you. They should've called by now. You decided to wrap the food up and stick it in the fridge, you could always warm it up when they got back.

-----------

Two hours passed before your phone rang. It wasn't Dean's number but Sam's. "Is he ok?" You asked in place of a hello and Sam laughed lightly "He's fine. I just wanted to let you know we stopped at a bar so we might be a little later"

You felt your heart drop. Your eyes flicked over to the table in the corner of the room you shared with Dean where the gift bag with his record and the covered pie sat. "He wanted to go to a bar?" You asked fighting back tears. Sam must have misread your reaction because he assured you "It's just for a beer Y/N. You know Dean only has eyes for you. We'll be home soon"

And yet he forgot your anniversary, that you were planning a surprise, that maybe you wanted him home.

You bit your tongue from so many words that wanted to fall out and instead bit back "I don't give a damn when he gets home" and hung up. You couldn't hold back the tears any longer. You barely registered the blanket falling off the bed when you stood up. You wouldn't be here when Dean got home.

---------

You'd been with Dean for six years, had been friends with him for longer. You did everything for him and Sam alike. You fought for them,bled for them hell you'd died for them. You always put everyone else first and had simply asked one damn night out of the man that was supposed to love you and that was too much to ask. If you were that much of a second thought why stick around?

@lacilou @suckitands33 @lyarr24 @decadentstrangernacho @nix-rose @irgendwas122 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @tas898

[bijouxcarys]

Little Wayward Girl

Masterlist (requests are open)

Summary: As the result of a bet, you must prove to your friend that not only have you experienced the magic of Robert Plant once before, but that he will definitely remember you four years later. Right?

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNA

Word count: 9.6k (got a bit carried away)

Tag list: @brownskinsugarplum76 @firethatgrewsolow @chromations @whothefuckisanja @ourshadowstallerthanoursoul @callmethehunter @strsmn @m-faithfull (if you'd like to be added, just let me know!)

1975

I huffed, brushing down my skirt after fighting my way through the hoards of fans that so desperately wanted to get backstage. There were displeased looks from surrounding girls, but it was their bloody faults for leaving a gap next to them!

"What are you looking at?"

"Don't know, but it's got a right face on it," my best friend, Ally, grimaced back at the scantly-clad ginger and her friends beside us.

"'Ey," I nudged Ally, sending her a look of disapproval.

"What, she's being a c--"

"Chill out, you're the reason we're back here anyways."

"Oh, yeah, because you wouldn't have wanted to come back here."

"Why do you say that?"

"To try and meet them, since you have never met them before." Ally smirked at me, making me roll my eyes.

"You're not budging, are you?" I asked her with a sigh.

I could see her lunging for the chance to make some kind of snarky remark, but chaos ensued further when the door in front of us cracked open, revealing a tall and large man with a noteworthy beard.

"Right, can't let all you birds in, as much as we all want you to," the man huffed, scanning his eyes over the huddle.

Squinting my eyes, I tried to place my finger on who this guy was, as he was staggeringly familiar. You'd think after four years, I'd recognise such a man immediately, but it took an embarrassingly lengthy amount of time for it to click.

G! Oh shit, it's Peter Grant--Y/N, you fucking idiot...

Peter, barely giving us a once over, let as many of us through as he could. Ally's hand grabbing onto mine, we sidled past Peter, finally entering the grounds of my mission. With a sigh, I glanced at Ally and rolled my eyes. I can't believe she's talked me into this...

...Earlier that day...

I stood behind Ally in front of the mirror, bobby pin between my teeth as I intricately braided the top layer of her blonde hair, ensuring there wasn't a lock out of place.

"I'm so excited!" she squealed. Her excitement made me grin, a similar feeling rippling through me.

"I just feel lucky that I get to see them again," I said through the bobby pin.

"I'm so jealous that you've already seen them live."

Smirking to myself, I took the pin from my mouth and secured the underside of her layer to the rest of her hair, followed by a thin hairband to secure the end of the braid. "All done."

Ally turned to her side, getting a good look at my handiwork and clapped giddily. She turned and gave me a tight hug, rocking me side to side. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

I giggled, patting her on the back before letting her go. I needed to fix my hair. Nothing too special, just a blow-out look that made my hair fluffier and larger. I liked the way it framed my face and sat along my shoulders; I loved the way it hung down my back.

Then again, so did he.

It wasn't that I was nervous to be seeing Zeppelin again in concert, it was purely the fact that memories from the night I saw them for the first time played out very vividly in my mind the whole week leading up to this day.

I did a once-over in the mirror of our hotel room, catching glimpses of Ally shuffling around on the bed, trying to force her feet into the pair of platforms she'd innocently swiped from one of our housemates.

"I still don't know why you don't just wear your own."

She looked at me as though I was speaking cling-on. "Are you insane? I've worn those so many times, as if I'd go to a Led Zeppelin show in shoes I've worn close to a hundred times before."

"If you say so, Al..." I shook my head in amusement. Once I concluded that I was happy with the outfit I had chosen, I decided that now was as good a time as any to tell Ally what I'd been waiting to tell her since we bought the tickets for the gig.

"So... I think there's something I should probably let you know before we head out," I started, spinning on my heel to look at her.

"Go for it," she struggled, falling onto her back with one leg in the air as she pulled on the heel of the platforms.

Amused by her blissful ignorance to the bombshell I was about to drop, I leaned back against the wall. "You know how I've seen them live before?"

"Yup!"

"Did I ever mention that I, uh... met them?"

Her leg dropped, the chunky heel thudding on the ground. "You did what?!"

I grinned, keeping my nonchalant position against the wall. "You heard."

"I'm not sure I did."

"You did," I laughed with a nod of my head.

"But... how?" she breathed out with wide eyes and an open mouth.

I shrugged. "I just found my way backstage with some girls I'd met that night. They're actually lovely lads."

Ally narrowed her eyes a bit, sitting up on the bed. It was like she was analysing my demeanour.

"What?" I asked.

"You're bullshitting me."

"I promise you, I'm really not," I shook my head. "That's not even the most unbelievable part about it."

"Fuck's sake, Y/N, tell me already!"

"You clearly don't believe that I met them, I highly doubt you'll believe the other part."

"Please! Tell me, I promise I won't jump to any conclusion," she pleaded through puppy-eyes.

"Fine!" I feigned defeat, as though I didn't want to tell her the sordid details. "I may or may not... have had... an... encounter..." I contemplated my choice of words. "...With Robert Plant."

"Yeah, right," she immediately fired back.

"See, I told you you wouldn't believe me!"

"You're telling me that you, Y/N, shagged Robert fucking Plant?"

"Well, I did!"

"Lies."

"Just 'cause you're jealous."

"I would be jealous if it were true," she sang, standing up and giving herself a final look in the mirror. "Well," she sighed, turning to face me with her hands on her hips. "There is one way you can prove it to me..."

"I'll be honest, I'm not overly bothered about you believing me or not, because I know it did happen," I said matter-of-factly, heading over to where I kept my bag and taking out the necessary things I needed for the night, sticking them in the deep pockets of my velvety brown blazer-jacket. "Besides," I turned, "he liked my hair. And my tattoo."

"Your shitty tattoo that you did yourself when you were sixteen?" Ally asked in subtle shock.

"Yeah, he said it..." I stopped myself, smirking. "No, you don't believe me, what does it matter?"

"So much for you not caring about me believing you or not..." She sighed dramatically. "Well, if you're comfortable with me shagging Harry--"

"Since when are you shagging my brother, Al?"

"Since you decided that it's not important to prove to me that you shagged the sexiest man on Planet Earth. Apart from your brother, that is..."

"Ew, gross, okay," I groaned. "How am I supposed to prove it?"

With a mischievous smile, she stepped closer to me. "Easy. We get ourselves backstage."

I shook my head, running my hand through my hair.

"Unless you don't think he'd remember you..."

Her smugness was irritating me now. It really shouldn't have mattered if she didn't believe me. But the more she was insistent that it didn't happen, the more and more I wanted to prove to her that it did. Just for the petty reason of being right.

"He'd remember me." I narrowed my eyes, but completely knew that I was being ridiculous. The chances of someone like Robert Plant remembering little old me were second to none.

"Yeah, okay," she disregarded. "I'm not considering it until you prove it to me. And if you can't prove it, and he can't remember a single thing about it... I get to have my encounter with your brother."

I groaned again, sitting back on the bed. "Fine. Fucking whatever. But I'm telling you... it did happen, and... h-he will remember."

"You don't sound too sure, Y/N, but we shall see..."

....Now....

Ally was having the absolute time of her life backstage; two roadies had already offered her a drink, which she obviously accepted, and she'd already gelled with multiple people.

I, however, felt uneasy about this whole bet.

How desperate to prove my friend wrong was I to insist that Robert fucking Plant would remember a night with a random girl from four whole years ago?! I spent a majority of the first half of the night mentally slapping myself and trying to figure out a way to get myself out of this situation.

But it proved to be too late as those four well-known rockstars entered the room to an abundance of cheers and applause for yet another electrifying performance.

First came Bonzo. I always remembered him as this big teddy bear, and he maintained that disposition. His hand was quickly occupied by a bottle of San Miguel. Some things never change.

Then came Jonesy. He was nothing but gentle from what I remembered of my brief time with the band. If I understood correctly, it seemed that he steered away somewhat from the sordid escapades derived from post-show adrenaline.

Jimmy had grown his hair out a little more, something I immediately noticed throughout the night. His eyes were laser-focused on the two girls waiting by the door for him, one of which were instantly taken under his wing. She was clearly his for the night. Probably the other one, too, now that I think about it...

I swallowed hard and glanced over at Ally, who was both in awe and anticipation. I can imagine she tackled with two mentalities. The first one being that she was seeing her favourite band up close, and the second itching to be right regarding Robert and I.

Larger than life, he strode in last, blouse open, yet tied across the bare expanse of his stomach. The jeans... God, those jeans. From where I had cowered in the corner, I had a prime view of the full picture. The pure perfection of one Robert Plant.

Heart hammering against my chest, I wished for the moment to pass quickly, knowing that come sundown the next day, my dear brother would be in bed with Ally.

I made no attempt to make myself seen. If he saw me, congratulations to him, but I wasn't going to intentionally put myself in the crossfires of embarrassment. Not that easily.

Ally was far too smug beside me, her mouth angled upwards in a smirk. I looked at her and rolled my eyes.

"Shut up," I mumbled, resorting to biting at my nails to relieve the growing anxiety.

"The moment we've been waiting for..." Ally started dramatically through a sigh. "...You shall be proven wrong, and I shall be between the sheets with H--"

I nudged her with some force, cutting off her provocation. She's so right, though...

My breath completely stilled in my throat when the enigmatic God of a vocalist scanned the room casually. And just like that, his eyes met mine. The moment was far too long for my liking.

Eventually, his eyes continued their surveillance around the room.

Nothing.

Not even the miracle of a second glance.

I cringed internally, lowering my gaze to the floor. Ally cackled beside me, before patting my back. "Damn, Y/N. Seems like he can't remember little old you..."

"Seems so," I mumbled, running my hand through my hair and shaking my head. Obviously, Y/N. You knew that would be the case.

All I could think back to was the moment Robert looked at me for the first time and didn't just pass me by.

1971

Ugh, you don't belong here.

I stood awkwardly amidst the small group of well-groomed girls that took me under their wing for the night. They were nice enough, and didn't look down on me like a lot of the other females in the audience did.

The hallway was eerily vacant as the final rings of the show erupted in precedence to the roaring yells of adoration. Vicky, who must have been about twenty-two, claimed it was best to get ahead of anyone else that may have wanted to come backstage.

I felt small and irrelevant with these girls. They were tall, beautiful, made-up, decked out, experienced... Everything that I was not. And when we heard an approaching cluster of footsteps, I quickly remembered that.

What are you doing, Y/N? This isn't your place.

My hands fist up into balls, hoping that my decision to extract myself from the situation would go unnoticed.

To my relief, it did. By them, at least.

Taking a few steps back, I initiated a turn, aiming to make a swift exit and retreat home. Perhaps in the comfort of my bed, I could indulge in fantasies of what might have been.

"Woah, easy there, love."

Startled, I collided with a broad chest, and in mere moments, I found myself locking eyes with the man who had elicited screams from thousands of girls just minutes ago.

Speak, Y/N! Don't be an idiot!

"S-Sorry," I stuttered dryly, lowering my head to walk past him. But he stopped me, reaching out to gently touch my shoulder.

"Are you alright?" I looked back at him, and tried my hardest to avoid his eyes. If I looked into his eyes, I'd melt. "You look shaken up."

My eyes darted to the floor, willing myself not to succumb to the beauty ahead of me. I nodded. "I'm fine. Just..." Muscle memory sabotaged my intentions, and I found myself finally looking back up at the blue pools of passion. And I couldn't look away. "I... was just... leaving."

"Already?" He tilted his head to the side as a charming smile took his features, embellished by the endearing tussle of facial hair I had swooned over all night. "Night's just started, darlin'."

His voice...

"Y-yeah, I know," I laughed pathetically, wanting nothing more than for the floor to swallow me whole. "You won't..." I glanced down the hallway at the girls I had left, their attentions fully on Jimmy by this point. "...won't be missing anything with me gone."

"Oh, I doubt that. The more the merrier."

I didn't answer him, I just pulled my gaze away from down the hallway and looked back at him with an unconvinced expression.

"Okay, well how about we start again normally?"

I scrunched my eyebrows up. "Wh--"

"Hello, my dear, I hope I don't seem too brash, but I can't help but notice how lovely and alluring your hair appears to be. I'm Robert, the silly prat that's just been jumping around on stage for the last two hours," he gallantly introduced himself with an exaggerated bow and an amused smirk.

My mouth hung open a bit, stumped at his energy. Not at all what I was expecting, but his subtle humour gave me a small sense of security, and I caught myself restraining a smile.

"I know who you are..." I said shyly.

"Yet, still, I haven't had the pleasure of knowing you who are," he pointed out, reaching out to cautiously take my hand in his.

Robert Plant is holding my hand. Robert. Plant. Is holding... My hand.

"Y/N," I managed to squeak out.

Robert grinned, squeezing my hand. "Names out of the way, may I ask why you don't think you'd be welcome?" Smoothly, he began to guide me in the direction of the dressing room where everyone else had convoluted. I barely even noticed, I was so caught up in his mere presence.

"Like I said... Don't think I'd be much fun." I shrugged. Robert's brows furrowed, an unconvinced expression on his face. "This is my first concert," I admitted through a nervous laugh.

"Ah," he chuckled, nodding his head. "I understand now."

By now, we'd stopped just next to the dressing room door. Robert turned to me, inadvertently trapping me between the cool breeze block wall and his heated, tanned body.

"Well, sweet Y/N with the pretty hair," he leaned down, lowering his voice to one laced with reassurance and the slightest hint of something else. "If you'd allow me, I'd very much like to be the one to... put an end to your post-show celibacy."

I swallowed hard, eyes wide as I stared up at his. He certainly has a way with words. So much potential to mean something entirely different. Without another word, I nodded, feeling my palms clam up at the realisation that I had agreed to something I only ever mustered up in my wildest dreams.

1975

Baffled by my own annoyance at Robert's complete lack of recollection, I grappled with the realization that my frustration stemmed from Ally being right and me being wrong. In that moment, I was an inconspicuous figure, a nobody.

Seeking refuge on a plush sofa, I settled into a comfortable spot, keenly aware that the majority in the room would soon migrate to an after-party in the hotel where the band was staying.

My gaze involuntarily returned to Robert, positioned at the opposite end of the room. A cigarette dangled from his fingers, and he was encircled by an eager flock of girls. Observing them, a wry thought crossed my mind – someone among them was in for an unforgettable night.

I couldn't pinpoint why his obliviousness bothered me so much. Was it wounded pride or misplaced expectations? Regardless, the scene before me unfolded like a vivid tableau, and I found myself grappling with a mix of emotions amid the impending revelry.

"What's with the long face? We're literally backstage at a Zeppelin show!"

I looked at Ally, unphased by her giddiness.

"Are you upset that you couldn't get away with your little fantasy?" She pouted. I could tell she had no real intention to upset me, and it didn't. It did, however, make me want to backhand her. In a friendly way, of course.

When I didn't answer, simply looking back over at Robert, Ally sighed heavily and shuffled closer to me. "Listen, just because it's not happened before, doesn't mean it can't happen tonight."

"Oh, sure," I rolled my eyes. "I'd have to get in li--"

Too engrossed in conversation, I was completely caught off-guard when I felt the chill of some liquid splashing onto my bare legs. I flinched backwards and looked up to see a very apologetic John Bonham.

"Oh, bloody hell, I'm sorry!" he exclaimed, his voice booming over the chatter. He immediately looked around for something to help, settling on a nearby napkin. "Here, let me..."

I waved him off, laughing nervously. "No worries, it's just beer. I'll survive."

As he attempted to mop up the spill, our eyes briefly locked, and he grinned sheepishly. "Guess I'm not as nimble as I thought. Mini skirts and beer don't mix, do they?"

Still as lovely as I remember.

I chuckled, appreciating his good-natured attempt to diffuse the situation. "Lesson learned, I suppose." As I stood up to mop up the rest of the spilled beer myself, I knew it was fruitless, and I sighed lightly. I could have sworn I caught a glimpse of familiar blue eyes from across the room as I turned to pass Ally my own bottle. Wishful thinking.

"There's a restroom to the right down the hallway, love, I'm so sorry."

"You're okay, honestly. It was gonna happen at some point, might as well be by the best drummer known to man," I joked, giving Bonzo a genuine smile. "Be back in a sec," I said to Ally before taking off for said restroom.

1971

"Shh," Robert's lips moved against my jaw as I whimpered. "I've got you, darlin'."

My hips involuntarily ground upwards against the heel of his palm, searching for any semblance of friction. Robert's throaty chuckle tickled my ear with his beard.

"Have to go slow, sweetheart," he whispered. "Don't want to hurt you."

"Y-You won't..." I weakly whispered back.

Robert lifted his head to peer down at me, an unconvinced look splashed across his perfect features. "Oh, Y/N. Sweet, sweet Y/N," he breathed.

My hands clasped around the back of his neck, wanting nothing more than him flush against me. His eyes glued to mine, looking into the depths of my soul as he maneuvered his fingers below, tracing the outline of my underwear. "You need to be soaked, Y/N. If you want to take all of me..."

All I could do was nod in response, allowing his lips to cover mine in a searing kiss, his fingers very delicately navigating my untouched centre.

As soon as the pads of his fingers swiped gently over my folds, my hips ground upwards instinctively. I felt like I could unfold, just by his soft grazes.

With a lush swirl of his tongue around mine, he hummed into my mouth. Breaking the kiss with a subtle smacking sound, he gazed down at me with hooded eyes.

I could only imagine how desperate and needy I seemed below him; wide-eyed, flushed, barely touched.

"Am I correct in the assumption that you haven't done this before, Y/N?"

My throat closed up and I swallowed. Shit, I really didn't want you to figure that one out...

I stumbled in my response, diverting my eyes to the side, but unable to escape his ethereal clutches in the form of his fingers. He was still making slow strokes along my weeping folds. Even as he spoke to me with that voice.

"Hm, it's nothin' to be ashamed of, honey." His words came as an encouraging murmur, almost with a sing-song cadence. He put a stop to the movements of his hand, resting it on my abdomen. His head dipped down to pepper small, light kisses along my chin, along my jaw, and then down my neck. "I'll take such good care of you, darlin'..." he whispered. My skin tingled in response to his hot breath against it.

Robert nipped lazily at my neck before dragging his lips back up to mine with a chaste peck. "That's if you want, Y/N. Just say the words, and I'll take you there."

How can I say no?! You could have had me in the fucking hallway!

All it took was a feeble nod and a weakened "please" for Robert to spring into action. His gentle hands took their time in undressing me, and his eyes conveyed a novel's worth of intrigue, admiration, and pure lust.

A carnal desire; I to entrust, him to liberate.

1975

You know, you could just leave right now, and nobody would even notice. Maybe Ally. Shit, Ally. Why did you get me into this situation? Pfft, no, Y/N, it was you, you idiot. But still... you could make a run for it. Crawl into bed. Forget any of this even happened. Hopefully wake up and realise this is just a horrifying dream.... fuck.

The mental argument I was having with the reflection of the bathroom mirror went on, and I couldn't rationalise with myself. I should have left, but I didn't want to. I couldn't bring myself to. Something in the back of my mind told me that it was worth staying.

So, I huffed out, hoping to expel as much of the stress as possible, and did a once over in the reflection.

At least you can't see the beer anymore...

Leaving the restroom, I vowed to make the most of what the evening had to offer, and if that involved being completely ignored by Robert fucking Plant, then so be i--

"Woah, easy there, love."

Turning the corner, I walked straight into that broad chest I'd been ogling at for a majority of the night. With wide eyes, I craned my neck to look up at him.

Shit.

"Not the typical 'hello', but whatever suits you best," Robert chuckled.

"Oh, great, I said that out loud," I cringed inwardly.

There was a horrible moment of silence, of him just looking at me, studying me. It was hard not to revert back to that shy, scared 17-year-old that ran into him in an eerily similar way.

"D'ya enjoy the show?" he asked, leaning against the wall and folding his arms. God, those arms. I remembered how easily he hoisted my legs up with them. How they completely engulfed me when he held me for the night.

I found myself unable to speak. So I opted for a nod and a hum of approval. I was met with the signature side smirk, his dimple deeper than I remembered. Then again, he did have that beard back then. It felt great when he settled his head betw--

"Sorry 'bout Bonzo," he cut off my inner thoughts, "He's a clumsy sod when he's drunk."

I stifled a small chuckle, keeping my eyes anywhere but on his. That's how he captured me last time. Not that he fucking remembers... "Yeah, I know," I answered quietly with a nod.

My attempts at avoiding his gaze were cut short. His fingers rested under my chin, gently tilting my head up so I had no choice but to look at his face.

"I may be tall, but not tall enough that you can't look at me, love."

Jesus, the way he said that...

Swallowing, I pulled my head back. "Yeah, I know."

"You don't say much, do you?" he though aloud with a slight tilt of his head. Proving his point, I neglected to answer. "Were you planning to hang around tonight? We're going to head back to the hotel soon. Could have some fun, maybe loosen you up a bit, darlin'."

"I don't need loosening up. And my name is Y/N."

"Ah, my Little Wayward Girl speaks." He grinned.

"Yeah, well, it's a bit different when you wait outside of the ladies' restroom for someo--wait, what?" My eyes widened once again as I snapped my head back up to look him head on.

Robert's hand smoothed over the side of my head, stopping to cup my cheek as he dipped down to hover over me. Inches away.

"I'll see you in a bit, yeah?" he whispered.

Before he strode back down the hallway, leaving me dumbfounded and relieved all at once, he stole the lightest kiss from the tip of my nose.

1971

Robert's curls were soft and lush against the bare skin of my stomach as he laid facing the ceiling. He watched as the reflections of the sun danced in patterns above him, suggesting the break of dawn.

His arm was hooked around my bent leg, and my fingertips brushed over the mass of hair on his chest. My eyes were shut as I tried to capture the exact feeling of this moment, hoping to solidify the warmth of his presence in my memories forever.

Soon, my fingers were playing with his tussled beard, feeling the contours of his perfect jaw that were hidden under the natural mass.

"Tired?"

I forced my eyes to open. He was gazing up at me. The zeal in his eyes drew a shy smile from me, and for what felt like the hundredth time that night, my cheeks flushed.

"Yeah..." I answered in a hushed whisper, almost hoarse from the extent of which my voice had been exercised throughout the night. "I think you wore me out," I added with a silent giggle.

Robert responded with an amused hum, his hand idly tracing patterns along my thigh. "As long as you enjoyed it, darlin'... Though, I think it goes without saying."

I smirked at him. "How'd you figure that one out, then?"

He pulled himself up and turned over so that he was now hovering over me. Using his forearms to support himself, he pressed his clammy forehead to mine. "Those, sounds, darlin'... such a beautiful symphony." He lowered his head down, lips grazing the shell of my ear. "Music to my ears," he whispered. My teeth clamped down on my lips to subdue the idiotic grin that threatened to appear.

"What else?" I dared to ask.

Bringing his lips back up to mine, he melded us together in a searing kiss. His tongue teased my lower lip, but withheld the satisfaction of it going any further.

"Aside from the whimpers, the panting, and the dirty, dirty moans that fell from your pretty little mouth?" He licked his lips, eyes trailing down, his lips following suit. "The way your skin glistened..." He mumbled down my throat. "The goosebumps that you still have, by the way," he chuckled. Then, his journey travelled west and east. "The way your nipples became so taut, so early on." A light kiss to each of them. He continued south, dragging his soft lips and his rugged beard down my stomach until his chest was lined up with my used core. Broken into for the first time by this God of a man. "Then there's the perfect drip of your honey... Never tasted one so sweet, darlin'," he purred, daring to rest the palm of his hand over my mound. "You clenched around me so earnestly. You were so good."

Finally, he tilted his head back up at me. "Does that answer your question, love?"

I was breathless. It was like he was making love to me all over again, only lyrically. Like he did in his music. But for me, and me alone.

I wordlessly nodded, my lips parting in a shaky exhale.

"Good." Robert's playful smile returned, and he turned his head to pepper loving kisses on my thigh. He paid specific attention to the self-modification I made on my thigh. Then, he took a minute to ogle at it. "I like this."

I raised my eyebrow, an amused smirk on my lips. "Oh, the tattoo?" I laughed airily. "It's silly. Don't even know why I did it..."

"It's sweet. A little smiley face, the tongue sticking out." He looked up at me. "Innocent, yet... unruly and defiant. You're like my Little Wayward Girl..."

1975

Ally cackled, right in my face, as I gave her a quick rundown of what just occurred in the hallway.

"Yeah, okay, Y/N," she snorted with a shake of her head.

"I'm telling you the truth, Al!"

"I'm not judging you for lying about it, it's okay. You don't have to keep up with it."

"I'm not lying," I almost whined, running my hand through my hair. I near desperately scanned the room. Where the fuck did he go? It would be really helpful if he showed up and relieved me of this torture! I huffed, crossing my arms in frustration. What if I'm imagining things and what happened in the hallway was all in my head? Fuck, now I think I'm going crazy, thank you, Ally.

"Ally, you know me," I steadily began, "If it didn't happen, and you caught me out in a lie, I'd have given it up by now."

She squinted her eyes at me. "Yeah, but it's not every day you get to make something up about Robert fucking P--oh my god." Her eyes widened, looking behind me. Her hand reached out to grab at my wrist. And before I could turn my head to scope out what cut her off, I felt a steady touch on my lower back and a looming presence beside me.

"I don't believe I've had a chance to speak to you two yet," his distinct, velvety voice rang in my ears as a muffled shock, mixing with the rest of the noise in the room.

"N-No, you haven't," Ally croaked. She was starstruck. Who could blame her?

"I apologise for that. Y'see, there're always so many people waiting for us after shows, it's hard to get around everybody." I could tell without looking at him that he was speaking through his characteristically crooked smile.

"Just being here is crazy enough, I wouldn't even be mad if you didn't notice us," Ally said through a nervous and clumsy laugh. I couldn't withhold my stifled chuckle at her tone, very atypical for her. It was satisfying to watch her cool demeanour crumble with every word.

I could see Robert's head turn in my direction, and I instinctively looked back, my heart banging against my rib cage.

"Well, I've definitely noticed you, now." Even though it was in response to Ally, he was looking directly at me. The hand on my back bared a little more pressure. It was fleeting when he gave me another one of those smirks, before looking back at Ally. "So, how do you know my Y/N?"

My Y/N.

Ally blinked a few times, her eyes darting to me. I gave her a smile, silently screaming "I TOLD YOU," as I so wanted to out loud. I just froze in the moment, letting it unfold as beautifully as it seemed to be.

"U-uh, she's my friend--I'm sorry, you know her?" Ally's voice rose in pitch as he pointed at me.

"Know, knew, whichever suits you best," Robert shrugged. "Uh, when was it, love?" he asked me, once again looking at me.

Finally regaining an ounce of my confidence, I smirked ever so slightly as I answered him. "'71, I think."

"That's it," Robert grinned and nodded. Ally's mouth hung open a little, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"Y-you were telling the truth!" she whisper-shouted at me.

"Uhh, yeah," I told her matter-of-factly.

"Fuck!" Ally slapped her hand on her forehead, most likely cursing the fact that she would not, in fact, be in bed with my brother this time tomorrow.

Robert's brows wrinkled in confusion, and he glanced at me. "Wha--"

"Don't ask," I answered before he could finish his question. "It doesn't matter anymore, does it, Ally?" I raised an eyebrow at her, an unrestrained smirk on my own lips now.

"No," she said through a clenched jaw.

"Okay, then," Robert exhaled, taking his hand away from my back to move his hair from his face. "Well, we're heading back to the hotel now," he said to Ally. "You're welcome to come along. However, I will be stealing Y/N for the evening." He looked down at me. "If that's alright with you, love."

Just like that, he had me again.

1971

I was grateful that they had a day off. It meant Robert and I could sleep well into the afternoon before they had to fly out the next day.

Robert seemed to adopt a somewhat domestic demeanour, though I suspected that was just how he was when he wasn't in the throes of making love--be that on stage, or off.

In essence, he dedicated the remaining time I spent with him to after-care. He truly looked after me after making my first time the most memorable, magical, and otherworldly. I couldn't help but let my mind wander, as he disappeared into the bathroom at 3pm, how lucky his wife must have been if he treated the women he didn't even know like this.

Lucky, ha. Her husband is off sleeping with countless women on the road. Luck doesn't seem like the most appropriate word to use in this situation, but anyone who came within a half-mile radius of Robert is naturally deemed lucky.

Lost in my thoughts, tangled up in the bedsheets, Robert blocked my vacant gaze at the ceiling by extending his hand out to me. He'd run us a bath.

He'd taken me there, twice more, in that hotel bathtub. Once with his fingers, once with his cock--and both times accompanied by the melodic moans, grunts, and murmurs of his platinum voice.

By 5pm, he was ordering more tea with lemon and honey to the room. He taught me about the importance of honey when it came to protecting the vocal chords, prompting a detour of innuendo and even more charm.

Out on the balcony, overlooking the city, we both took in the cool breeze. The much-needed fresh air. We laughed over the wind's assault on both of our hair, igniting a playful back and forth over whose hair looked the best all dishevelled and out of place.

Desperate to prove his point of mine looking "enigmatic and resplendent," this led to a series of photos taken on the balcony with the camera Robert had brought along on tour.

"You really do like my tattoo, don't you?" I giggled when he asked me to pull back the robe and maneuver my body so the inked smiley face was on show.

"I told you I liked it, love," he said as he focused on snapping a few shots. "You should, too," he grunted as he stood up, stretching up. "Anything that makes you different, you should love it."

Eventually, he took me as his guest for dinner with his band mates, along with one of Jimmy's girls, and the two men who I quickly got to know as Peter Grant and Richard Cole. My attention was solely on Robert, though, and his on me. Offering me cigarettes, drinks, introducing me to different foods I'd never tried before.

And before he gave me another night of mind-blowing, leg-shaking orgasms, we sat out on the balcony, listening to records, and talking about what music struck him in the heart the way Zeppelin did with me.

He even sang to me. Rough lyrics and melodies, originals that hadn't yet been released to the world. I was honoured. I couldn't believe I was in the right place at the right time. Little old me.

But there I was, sat on a balcony in Robert Plant's hotel room, as he hummed the first or second draft of what the world would come to know as Stairway to Heaven.

1975

I would have been an idiot to turn down another offer from Robert Plant. To deny him of that limousine ride to his hotel, where the others piled in after us. Ally had attached herself to Bonzo, falling into deep, drunken conversations. And in my own tipsy--not drunken--haze, I looked up at Robert and chuckled when the car started moving.

His arm was draped over my shoulders, burning holes into my jacket with the mere graze of his fingertips, up and down my arm.

"So, you gonna tell me how you figured out it was me?" I said up at him. "And why you waited to follow me to the restroom to let me know of that fact?" I tilted my head further back, with me being so close to him.

The audacity he had, in front of all these people, to slide his other hand up my leg, stopping just as his fingers disappeared under the hem of my skirt.

"Honey, a skirt that short leaves very little to the imagination, and can expose your most unique qualities..." he trailed off, glancing down at his hand as he carefully teased my skirt a few centimeters further up, enough to unveil the stamp of innocence that had led him to dub me his Little Wayward Girl.

"And, of course... yer one of the only lasses I've had the pleasure of meeting to have this particular unique quality," he jested with a smirk, before gently squeezing the flesh of my thigh.

He leaned into me, lips parted inches from mine. "Just need to get reacquainted with another treasure hidden away up there, don't I?" He didn't let me answer, he just captured my lips in a searing kiss.

That kiss took us all the way up to Robert's hotel room, where he had me pinned against the back of the door with his lips hot on my neck.

"And you're sure Ally will be alright with--" I cut myself off with a gasp as I felt Robert's teeth steadily bite down under my ear.

"I already told you, love, she's perfectly safe with Bonzo," he said lowly. He kissed where he'd bitten, and dropped his voice to a provocative whisper. "Now, no more about anyone else tonight, Y/N..." Pulling back, he cupped his hand over my cheek, looking into my eyes. "Just us, darlin'... You..." His free hand trailed down my chest, fingers delicately teasing away the covering of my jacket. "And me."

I let him push my jacket off my shoulders, barely feeling it pool around our feet. I couldn't take my eyes off of his, and I fell deeper and deeper into his allure--exactly how I wanted it to be.

"No more distractions," I whispered back with a slow nod.

"No more distractions," Robert smirked, tilting his head to the side. He took a step back and held his hand out. "Come, my dear."

His hands were gentle, but a fiery presence on my skin as he took his time to remove every stitch of clothing from my body. In that moment, I felt like the most sublime creature on Earth. Every inch of my body was doted on, appreciated, cherished...

Robert was still clothed when he took my face in his hands, delicately placing the lightest kiss to my lips. Then down to my chin, my throat, as far as his tall frame could reach without having to bend at the knees. His fingers threaded through my hair, causing my eyes to flutter shut and my thighs to instinctively clench at the thought of him applying pressure to my roots.

"Set the pace, love," he muttered.

"I'm not 17 anymore, Robert..." I reminded him, my eyes flickering down to his lips. "I can handle whatever pace you wish to set," I told him with a confident exhale. My fingers worked on removing his blouse, all whilst distracting him with the want in my eyes.

And I watched as his darkened with something akin to epicurean, sovereign desire.

With an unfaltering stare, his hands gripped my wrists in the process of me pushing his shirt from his shoulders. Bringing my hands up to his lips, he kissed them, almost like a Godspeed to his gallant complexion. Then he let me go, ushering me backwards with maintained eye contact until I had no choice but to sit back on the plush bed.

I took in the delightful view of Robert shrugging off his blouse. My stomach clenched when the veins in his hands flexed whilst unbuckling the stylish belt he had secured around his hips. It wasn’t hard to tell that those jeans were starting to become an issue. The two of us shared a small, knowing smile as he caught me eyeing the obvious bulge.

“You do it on purpose,” I stated, leaning back on my hands.

He had a permanent smirk on his face as he peeled off his jeans and underwear. The heat between my legs fluttered already once his large cock came into view, springing up, proud and prominent. “What do I do on purpose, love?”

He knew exactly what I meant.

“Don’t play innocent, Percy, it doesn’t suit your God status.” I slipped my lip between my teeth, using the well known nickname for the first time.

“God status, eh?” He grinned, stalking towards the bed and hovering over me, steadying himself of his hands. “My, my, where as my Little Wayward Girl gone?”

I glanced down at his lips, shivering internally at how close he was to me. The tension was palpable. Thick enough to saw in half.

“If I remember correctly,” I started in a whisper, gazing up at his eyes. “A Golden God took the time to school me. And he stole away with that Little Wayward Girl before sunrise.”

“And who exactly assumed my Little Wayward Girl’s throne, my dear?” He whispered back, trailing kisses along my jaw. When he got to my neck, nipping and sucking marks into the sensitive skin, my hands instinctively came up to hold onto his biceps. “A Goddess, perhaps?” He breathed hotly into my ear.

The natural sandalwood musk of his body drugged me. I was high on his presence, rendered unable to answer with anything other than a shaky breath.

Robert’s hand moved up to hold the side of my neck, tilting my head in his direction. His eyes were clouded and hooded. Hungry with desire.

“Why don’t you show me what that Golden God taught you, baby?”

He didn’t have to ask me twice. In what seemed like a momentary flash, he’d returned to a standing position with me perched on the edge of the bed: face to face with his cock.

Tentatively holding onto the base, I gave the tip of his cock a kitten lick. Testing the waters. I glanced up at Robert, seeing he had one of his huge hands rested on his hip. Like he did onstage. Fuck.

I kept my eyes on him as I wrapped my lips around him, steadily taking his length into my mouth. Cheeks hollowed, I sucked gently, a spark shooting through my core when his lips parted with a sigh.

“That’s it, darlin’. Mmm…” he grunted, shutting his eyes and hanging his head back once I set a satisfactory pace.

I let my saliva coat him, I swirled my tongue around his hot tip, I did anything I could, and more, to work this leviathan into a state of ecstasy. I wanted to see his chest shimmering in his sweat, the rogue blonde curls plaster to his forehead, and the taut muscles under his abdomen tense with an unbearable urge to take control.

He looked down at me, almost taken aback by my boldness when I started to pay attention to his tight, full balls. Flattening my tongue, applying pressure with the tip of it in the right places, even teasing him with the odd suction.

“So perfect… Fuuuck…” he moaned, and his free hand held onto my head. “Damn it, I schooled you well, babe…” Before he lost it completely and cut the night short, he pulled me up to my feet, barely having room between him and the bed. He crashed his lips into mine, tonguing my awaiting lips and grabbing onto my hips with mammoth hands.

My own hands flew up to bury them into his mane of hair, meeting his frantic kiss with a matching ferocity. He leaned down slightly to wrap his arms tightly around my thighs and hoist me up for a brief moment before ultimately dropping me down beneath him on the bed. The kiss was forcefully broken, and I needed more.

Robert kneeled in between my legs, keeping me completely at his mercy. Caressing my face, he studied me intently. As though he was thinking about all the things he wanted to do to me. His thumb tugged at my lip, and I earnestly took it into my mouth, grazing my teeth over it.

“My girl…” He traced the pads of his fingers down my chin, down my throat, down between my breasts. He stopped to cup them, thumbs teasing over the taut nipples that were electrified from his simple touch. “…you…” His fingers ventured lower, tickling down my sides. “…are…” Up my legs, under my thighs, over my tattoo, to my abdomen. Finally, he reached my centre, adorned with a small mass of soft curls. “A Goddess.”

One hand pressing lightly against my lower stomach, he used his other thumb to venture over my folds. Two little swipes, barely there, drew a gasp from my lips. He acknowledged this for a fleeting second, and smirked to himself when he brought his thumb up to his mouth to wet it. His appetiser.

His eyes were fixed on the sight below him as he placed his hand flat over my mound, pushing against it to open me up ever so slightly—enough to allow the pad of his thumb access to the bundle of nerves that had been throbbing with need for the past hour. He made continuous movements over it with his thumb, taking pleasure from my reaction.

“Sensitive baby…” he hummed, keeping up with his actions. He watched my form twitch lightly, hips automatically rolling upwards, and my mouth fall open.

There was no doubt that he could have made me cum like this. Just by rapidly swiping his thumb back and forth over my clit. He knew it, too. And for a moment I thought that was his goal. But he worked me up to such a high, to where it was impossible to miss the swelling his ministrations enforced and the progressive rise and fall of my chest.

Then he pulled away.

“Robert…” I whimpered, rolling my hips upwards again.

“You were so close, darlin’… so beautifully enthralled…” he practically moaned in response to my whimpers. He grasped onto my thighs, slowly pushing them forward towards my chest so I opened up entirely. “Do you want to cum, Y/N?” I nodded wantonly. “Tell me… let me hear it…” he coaxed, smoothly lowering himself to my thigh, where he pressed the lightest kiss. So, so close to my aching heat.

“I… Please… I want to cum, Robert…” I sighed, toes curling at the anticipation he had built. “Please… m-make me cum, baby, I need it.”

“I know, my sweet… I know…” he mumbled, kissing lower down. Just a little more… “You need it so bad, honey…” His face hovered over my weeping heat, having the sheer audacity to blow very lightly against it. “Speakin’ of honey… does my lady taste just as sweet as I remember…” He drawled, more of a vocalisation of his inner thoughts than a direct question.

“Robert! Please…” I whined.

He dived in, completely catching me off guard. Face buried as far as it could go, lips latching to my swollen clit, suckling, slurping, and flicking his tongue. He slobbered over it like a starving mongrel. His hair covered my thighs, curls bouncing with the movements of his head as he feasted on my nectar.

“Fuck!” I cried out, my hands shooting downwards to grasp onto his hair, tugging at the roots. He responded with a growl, the vibrations adding to the growing sensations between my legs.

He was feral. To him, this was his last meal.

“Oh…God… Robert, yes! Fuck, don’t stop!” I panted, once again allowing my hips to grind upwards in tandem with his tongue. He skipped further teasing by plunging two of his long fingers into me, curling them upwards and building a strong rhythm to match the way his tongue ravaged my pearl. “Y-yes… I’m… fuck…” I incoherently moaned.

Instead of verbally encouraging me, he simply moaned loudly against me, briefly nodding his head, letting me know it was okay to cum for him. He let out a sharp exhale, putting his all into his assault.

Instinctively pushing his head down, I felt my climax hit. Hard. I arched off of the bed and my head was thrown back into the fluffy pillows. I let out an almost animalistic groan, my breath halting in the process as I rode out the intensity of my orgasm.

Robert gave me the courtesy of letting me rest for a few moments, kissing my core in the process of the comedown. With glistening lips, he watched the aftershock contractions, admiring his work. Then he finally crawled back up to me, grabbing my face and meeting my lips with his, coated in my essence. The kiss was sloppy, and we had very little care for the mixture of fluids that covered both of our faces in the process.

“Robert…” my voice was muffled by his kisses. “Need…need you inside…”

“Already on it, darlin’,” he gasped, pulling himself up onto his knees. He eagerly guided his cock to my awaiting entrance, lubing himself up in the juices he’d conjured. He looked me in the eye as he steadily pushed forward, the thick girth of his manhood stretching me by the second.

My body tingled with the reminder of the burn and sting that accompanied a night with the Golden God. It was delicious.

Robert watched my face, looking for any indication of hesitation on my end. But my body welcomed his, and he easily settled to the hilt within me.

“‘S’that feel okay, baby?” he asked with a hurried whisper.

“Uh-huh…” I clamped down on my lip as I nodded.

“Yeah?” He got as close to me as he could whilst still on his knees. Once again, my legs were being pushed up towards my chest, allowing his cock to press against the most sensitive part of my body.

Robert didn’t waste time. He was unbridled. Primal. Insatiable. His thrusts were quick to set an intense pace, eliciting those lewd slapping sounds each time we collided.

“So good… baby…” he moaned, clenching his jaw and breathing heavily from his nose as he continued to fuck me into the mattress. My own moans and whimpers of ecstasy spurred him on, rolling his hips in a circular motion and maintaining pressure on my sweet spot.

“Oh fuck! Yeah, right there, baby…” I keened, having no choice but to fist at the pillow beside my head.

“Yeah? That the spot, darlin’?” He purred, before bringing one of my legs over so that both of them were pressed together. He rested them both on one of his shoulders, one arm holding onto them, whilst his other hand reached out to grab at my breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers as his thrusts intensified. “Ohhhh… fuuck, you’re so perfect around my cock, sweetheart.”

The positioning of my legs caused every contraction and flutter to be felt with ferocity by Robert. Nobody had ever taken me like this. But then again, nobody is quite like Robert.

“Oh my God,” I gasped, the unexpected rise of another release crawling up through my body. It wasn’t a progressive swell. The warning signs of another orgasm crashed into me, taking me by surprise, which only served to make the experience even more intoxicating.

Robert still had the ability, through his animalistic venture, to flash me that signature smirk as he caught onto my sudden response. He shook his hair from his face as he continued to pound into me. “You there again, darlin’?”

“Y-yeah… oh fuck, yeah, I am…” I whimpered, my chest rising and falling. This was going to be an intense one. And he knew it. So, he moved my leg back to rest atop his other shoulder and leaned down completely over me, folding me in such a visceral manner, though one of my legs fell slightly in the midst of him now slamming in and out of me.

“Come on, Y/N…” he hummed down at me, focusing on my second release before his first. “Show me how hard you can cum, little girl… I know you have it in you… I can feel it…” he breathed out hotly against my lips. His piercing blue eyes were glued to mine, and we maintained intense eye contact.

I huffed and panted in his face, digging my nails into the shoulder my leg had fallen from. It was coming. So close.

“Ah… R…Robert!” I gasped.

“That’s right, honey… you’re almost there… let go… make a mess of me…” He was so lost in the moment that he didn’t care that his thrusts were causing the headboard to start slamming against the wall.

His landscaped pelvis was grinding against my clit, and I could feel his tight balls slapping against me with every movement.

Then it happened.

“Fuck, I’m… I’m c—“ I cut myself off with a shriek, and the loudest cry of pleasure I’d ever mustered up. I came so hard around Robert’s cock, and my nectar wept and wept, soaking the sheets, and soaking both Robert and I. My body jerked and my ears rang, and I heard Robert offer up a breathless chuckle.

“My good girl… fuck! Shit, get ready, baby…” he warned, clasping onto my legs as he chased his high. “Fuck!” He let out the loudest guttural growl, his thrusts transitioning from inconsistent to completely stilled. He steadily and sharply pumped his load into me, filling me up with every inch of his love.

I felt so owned. Claimed. Possessed. Potent with the power and energy of this otherworldly human above me.

Robert writhed in the aftershocks of his release, and he soon let my legs fall back down onto the bed, followed by his own collapse onto my chest. He nuzzled me as we both fought to catch our breathes. I found comfort in the lewd sensations that came with him pulling out of me. I was dripping—soaked.

Robert eventually lifted his head up to look at me and he gave me a long, gentle kiss, accompanied with a sigh. “Sublime…” he whispered hoarsely. “We… definitely need to…get in that…bath, though…” he panted steadily.

I laughed weakly with a feeble nod of my head, “I… absolutely agree…” We had made an absolute mess of the bed, but it was entirely worth it.

“Sorry you only came…twice,” he playfully apologised, shifting to the side so only half of his weight was on me. “Ah well…” he sighed, sweeping some of my damp hair from my face. “Just have to give you…about five next time.”

I raised my eyebrows and turned my head to look at him with hazy eyes. “There’s a next time?”

“Oh, my sweet Little Wayward Girl,” he smirked, “There’s always a next time.”

[singemall-stayallnight]

James "Bucks" Burnett's Stories About Jimmy Page - Part 1

Part 2

Jimmy Page is to the right, Bucks Burnett at left with guitar. | © Mark Bowman

All of the parts about Jimmy are included below. You can read the entire article here - That Time I Played Guitar for Jimmy Page

By Bucks Burnett March 14, 2017

When I saw Led Zeppelin in Dallas in early March 1975, during the Physical Graffiti tour, it started a chain of events that ended with the extremely unlikely photograph above. That’s me playing an acoustic guitar beside a snickering Jimmy Page, ten years later in Austin in March 1985. The song we’re playing is a Namedropper original called “Dirty Dog.”

If you’re asking just how the hell I ended up playing that song to a legendary artist, don’t feel bad. Jimmy is probably curious, too.

In 1982 I was on a road trip with my best friend since first grade, Eric “Spoonhead” Randolph. We took his legendary black van to California so he could check out UCLA. I was just along for the ride. Somewhere around Arizona, we made a visit to a rest stop. As we walked to the water fountain, two scrawny name tag shirt-wearing guys were taking turns sipping.

As one bent his head down to take a drink, he looked up at his friend and said, “I’ll tell ya one thing for sure. Their water sure turns brown when you flush the toilet!”

As he drank his friend laughed and said, “You are a dirty dog!” The guy sipping quickly replied, “I ain’t the dirty dog — you’re the danged ol’ dirty dog!”

Eric and I watched in awe as they walked back to their big truck, calling each other dirty dogs, each making the other out to be the dirtier dog, complete with growling and barking noises, their voices dimming into the distance.

For the rest of that trip, and indeed our whole lives, it has been dirty dog this, dirty dog that. An overheard remark in 1982 that we never understood has shaped us ever since. We made a song, with predictable lyrics:

You dirty dog. You’re a dirty dog, Dirty dog, Dirty dog.

Three years later, I sang the song to Ronnie Lane of the Small Faces. He cracked up and, in a very bad Southern accent, joined in. Ronnie really liked the song, so we would always sing it with each other in his apartment, where I was living, serving as his butler and personal assistant.

Jimmy on stage in Houston in 1985. | Bucks Burnett Archives

Our great friend Mark Bowman, a Houston photographer, would sometimes sing it with us when he visited the apartment. On March 21, 1985, The Firm (Jimmy Page and Paul Rodgers) played Houston, and Jimmy gave Ronnie, Mark and me seats onstage near his playing spot. Mark and I took pictures.

The next night, Jimmy visited Ronnie at our apartment, and at one point in the conversation Ronnie looked at Jimmy and randomly said, “Jimmy Page, you are a dirty dog!” Jimmy, thinking he was being dissed, squinted his eyes and shot back, “I’m not the dirty dog, you’re the dirty dog. You’re the dirty rabid dog!” Game over.

But he did invite us to see The Firm the next night in Austin, and got us each a room in the band’s hotel, the fabled and belated Mansion Hotel. I had my own suite, courtesy of Mr. Page.

After the concert, we had a small party in Ronnie’s room. Our friend Gloria Galasso had set up an acoustic guitar on a stand in the room in front of the curtains. At one point, Ronnie said, “Bucks, play the dirty dog song for Jimmy!” I nervously picked up the guitar, plunked out the melody in single notes, and sang to Jimmy, “You dirty dog, you’re a dirty dog, you dirty dog, you dirty dog.” I repeated it a couple of times and put the guitar back on the stand.

It was a short concert, about 30 seconds.

Mark Bowman managed to get a photo of it as it happened. Jimmy was holding a pile of gifts we had all given him, and was laughing the whole time I sang the song. After a few more minutes he wished us all farewell and the party lingered on.

That was 32 years ago this month, on March 23, 1985, the night I played and sang “Dirty Dog” for Jimmy Page in Austin. If Mark hadn’t taken the picture, we would still be telling the story, but no one would believe us.

The next story was posted in the Jimmy Page On This Day (Archive) thread on the Led Zeppelin Forum.

Here is Buck's fond recollection of Jimmy & Ronnie's first meeting since the triumphant 1983 ARMS tour, written some years ago:

JIMMY PAGE: First Meeting, Houston 1985

By James "Bucks" Burnett

I am proud to be able to say that I am friends with a person as fine and amazingly creative as Jimmy Page. Anyway I was living with Faces bassist Ronnie Lane as his butler and personal assistant in early 1985.

Jimmy came through Houston with his new band The Firm, and Ronnie and I went to the concert with our new friend Mark Bowman. Jimmy had 4 seats reserved for us on the stage behind a bank of speakers, so we watched his entire performance from about 10 feet away. Yes, I took a camera. He sought out Ronnie backstage and suggested he come visit the following night at our apartment, which he did.

My first words to him were, "Good evening Mr. Page, please come in, Mr. Lane is expecting you. My name is James." He snorted and said, "Yeah, mine too…" This began a friendship which has lasted over 20 years. We spent several hours together that evening, during which I spent most of the time listening to the two of them visit while occasionally injecting something pointless with a sporty posh accent. When I finally cracked him up, he spewed his drink and exclaimed to Ronnie, "Where'd ya get HIM?!?" Ronnie just grinned and said, "He's my butler. Ain't he great?" This was on or about March 21, 1985.

I will have many stories about Pagey but you must remember his privacy must be honored at all times, so don't expect any great revelations here. He is absolutely genius-level smart in fields other than music, and funny beyond belief, qualities which may not be readily apparent in his public life*, so it's been wonderful to enjoy those aspects of his personality. He's no angel but he's known a few and settled on one.

She herself is another story for another time.

SAJ notes: On Sunday, September 25, 1988 Jimmy visited his friend James Burnett at his record store, 14 Records, in Denton, TX. James Burnett recently opened an eight-track museum, details of which can be found here.

*"The other thing people don't want to acknowledge about Jimmy is that he was very funny."

—Bebe Buell, Led Zeppelin: The Oral History of the World's Greatest Rock Band by Barney Hoskyns, 2012

[i-already-know-im-going-2-hell]

Tags: Sam/Dean, Stanford Era, Hurt/Comfort, Mainly comfort, but like it starts with some angst I guess Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Word Count: 703

Sam paces back and forth in front of his phone on the counter. He thinks back to Jess and hearing her talk about her brother dying over the weekend, lost to a car accident. Immediately even though he'd tried to stay focused on Jess and offering comfort, his mind had jumped to Dean.

Dean, who spent more time than even the odd person between the four doors of a car, traveling down more highways than most would in their entire lives in the span of a single year. Zeppelin playing loudly through the speakers, and driving at least 10 over the speed limit at all points in time.

Dean, who Sam had tried not to think of in months, who he'd long since gotten used to the possibility of losing to their family's obsession with the supernatural. An old wound that still smarted when you pressed on it, but that Sam had learned to ignore with time and distance.

Dean, who Sam was now realizing, might not even be alive anymore. 

That had been the final thought that had led him here, pacing in front of his phone that he'd never managed to replace, even after 2 years of being here, in hopes that it might ring someday.

It never had and that fact was now working Sam up even more.

It's not like he expected Dean to call him up often because of how he’d left things, but since they were younger Sam had always known that no matter how many times they fought, Sam always managed to get Dean to come around to his side. No matter how many dates or hunts took away his brother's attention from him, when it got to be too much, Sam could use a few words and a look and he'd find himself on one of their beds, legs swung over Dean's lap as they both sat down to watch whatever they happened to be able to catch on the television.

He might not have the bed or Dean readily available, but he’d never doubted that Dean would one day be the one to finally call.

That confidence was being shaken now though. Sam couldn't be sure that he'd never pick up the phone to see Dean's name flashing across the screen, because Dean was still holding out in the same way he was, or because Dean had held out to the end, setting his foot down in the worst way Sam could imagine.

Sam thinks about the fact that if Dean never spoke to him again, he wouldn't be sure what the last thing his brother had even said to him was. That last night was bathed in crisp detail and out of tune nothingness. His father's face as he told him if he walked out not to come back, interspersed by the fact he didn’t remember what tone he’d even been using. Dean standing there, with the most fragile look he'd ever seen his brother have, frozen and never stepping in between him and their dad even once like he normally would. 

The bus station, broken into snippets of images that blurred in and out with his tears, but with the stash of 600 dollars he'd found stuffed into his duffel still in perfect detail. Stashed there by Dean no doubt, which Sam read as his brother keeping good on his promise to always take care of him. A promise he read as Dean being sure they'd talk, see each other again.

With that thought Sam is grabbing his phone off the counter before he makes the conscious decision to, pressing 1 and seeing Dean's name pop up the same way it had since he'd gotten the thing. He presses call because he knows if he doesn't he'll lose the nerve. He hears it ring out twice before the line clicks and he hears his brother breathing on the other end.

Shaking with a mixture of relief, anger, and loneliness he's managed to keep locked inside his chest since he's gotten to Stanford he just breathes with his brother, matching his breathes to his like Dean used to have him do to keep him calm when he'd first starting coming on hunts.

"Sam?"

Part 1 | x

[lovelymylene]

introducing..

໑ 70s STONER NATE DOE

STONER NATE.. who never seems to have an agenda—he’s just down for whatever’s happening, whether it’s a party, a late-night drive, or sitting in a field listening to music

STONER NATE.. doesn’t go out of his way to mess with freshmen, but he finds it hilarious when Chris does. If someone trips over their own feet because of Chris, Nate’s the one doubling over in laughter.

STONER NATE.. who no matter where he is, there’s a faint smell of weed clinging to him. He claims it’s because he “lives in the vibe,” but really, it’s because he’s perpetually lighting up.

STONER NATE.. who’s also the guy who has a crumpled pack of rolling papers in his pocket at all times.

STONER NATE.. who loves dropping “profound” thoughts that are really just common sense. For example:

“You ever think about how the sky is just… the Earth’s blanket?”

“Money’s just paper, man. Like, what even is a dollar?”

He thinks he’s deep, and honestly, no one has the heart to tell him otherwise.

STONER NATE.. who is the guy who “accidentally” ends up at every party, concert, or hangout. He’ll show up uninvited with a shrug and a grin, saying, “I heard this was the spot, man.”No one ever questions it because his chill energy is oddly comforting.

STONER NATE.. who’s infamous for saying, “Yo, you got snacks?” within five minutes of showing up anywhere.

STONER NATE.. raids your fridge without asking, then apologizes with a mouth full of chips.

STONER NATE.. who has an unassuming talent for painting and doodling. His notebooks are filled with trippy, colorful designs that blow people’s minds when they see them.

STONER NATE.. who once painted a mural in his friend’s basement while stoned out of his mind, and now it’s the ultimate chill spot.

STONER NATE.. who might not remember the details of your story later, but in the moment, he’s the guy who will sit and listen to your problems while nodding sagely.

STONER NATE.. who’s is always something vague like, “You just gotta, like, follow the vibe, man.”

STONER NATE.. who absolutely loves animals and will drop everything to pet a dog or rescue a stray cat.

STONER NATE.. who secretly befriended the neighborhood raccoons, who he feeds leftover pizza crusts.

STONER NATE.. who never seems to have money, but he’ll gladly share whatever he has, whether it’s his last joint or a bag of chips.

STONER NATE.. has a knack for collecting the perfect records/cds for any situation. His mixtapes are legendary, filled with everything from Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin to groovy, obscure B-sides. (Lowkey fucks with jazz a lot)

STONER NATE.. who whenever Chris’s antics start to go too far, he’s always the one who steps in with a chill, “Yo, man, maybe let’s not do that.”

STONER NATE.. somehow diffuses tension without actually doing much—his calm presence alone is enough to make people relaxed

@lovelymylene <3

[slenbee]

Get In My Business Ask Game:

6, 7, 28, 76

6 - Favorite band: Green day was my first favorite band, I had all of their CDs back in high school! Now.. I don't listen to too much music of one specific genre tbh. Old 80s rock music will never get old. Meatloaf, Led Zeppelin... some 90s/2000's dance music like Bass hunter used to be good too. Tl:dr I can't pick x.x.

7 - Biggest turn off(s): Lying and deception. Dating multiple people at the same time and not telling the other person. Dishonesty. Hyper masculinity in the 'alpha', 'my shit don't stink', 'I'm always right and everyone else is wrong', way. Incels in the: obsessive, must know everything about you in an hour, I don't respect your privacy as a woman if you refuse to show me your face or send me pictures, and if you ignore me I'll kill myself, slut shame, or doxx you, way.

28 - Favorite ice cream? Private Selects Denali maximum fudge. ♥

76 - Have you ever done something you told yourself you wouldn’t?

Honestly, yes. Both for bad/selfish personal reasons and for reasons that wound up needing to be done because someone had the right to knowwhat was going on. Remember that above mention of "dating two people at once?" Yeah.. that was related.

Context below cut. Slight trigger warning.

Was in a online polyam relationship back in 2017. It was me, J and K for 8 months or more. I didn't know K was also seeing L until J told me they had been dating for 'the past 3 months'. J told me K had told him, that K had 'swore he told me about it and i was ok with it'. (Hint: he didnt.). I had no fking idea who L was.

I asked K who they were. Asked why he lied. Was told they were 'nobody important'. I asked why J said K and L had been dating for 3 months. K tried to play it off like 'I swore I told you about him!'

I got so fucking fed up with K, his constant lies and we broke up.

A few weeks later I figure out who L is... because they contact me.

We talk. I ask if K sent them, they are confused, say no, ask why. I explain who I am outside of my avatar/internet persona and explain the situation from start to end.

Turns out K lied to L, said J and I were emotionally abusive, using him for money and art, and had broken up with him a long time ago or something. L said that he didn't have -any- idea that all this was going on, and that he was -not- ok with it at -all.-

They broke up and L gave him a very stern verbal beat down that was honestly worth an award of some kind.

Fuck K. I resent him to this day if only because he almost made someone kill themselves over his stupid, selfish, fucking choices. And he still hasn't changed to my knowledge to this very day.

[unhappycylinder]

Hellfire’s Newest Member (Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader) Pt. 2

Masterlist

Your alarm startled you awake and you fumbled dramatically out of bed, taking your sheets with you. That was probably the hardest you had slept in a long time. You had to get to school early to meet with the counselor to talk about your interests and your grades and all that stupid first-day-but-its-almost-the-end-of-the-year bullshit that you knew all too well.

You stepped into your bathroom, brushed your teeth and your hair, and did some light makeup before heading back to your room and throwing on your usual outfit: blue jeans, a band t-shirt (today was Led Zeppelin), a denim jacket with a few pins on it that you literally had never washed, and your orange converse. You grabbed the money your dad left and shoved it in your backpack before heading out.

The walk to school was nice, quiet, and honestly peaceful...that was until a disgusting old van came barreling down the street at an ungodly speed. You couldn't help but scoff as you imagined what reckless idiot could be driving it. As the van passed you, you avoided eye contact with whoever was inside, but you could feel their eyes burning into the side of your head. Just after they passed you, the van screeched to a halt and the driver's side window rolled down.

"guess today's the day I get kidnapped...in goddamn Hawkins, Indiana" you whispered under your breath as you approached the van, stopping just next to the window.

You glanced up to see a guy about your age with dark wavy hair down past his shoulders, deep brown eyes that felt like they looked into your soul, and a denim vest over a leather jacket. Metal music was playing on his stereo and he had his right arm propped on the steering wheel, his ringed hand draping over the edge, and his left arm hanging out of the window. He didn't break eye contact with you once, and to you it looked like he was ever so slightly blushing.

"Well hello there gorgeous," he said after a few seconds of intense eye contact.

"So are you gonna like, I don't know, kidnap me or something?" You said, putting your hands in your jacket pockets.

"Nah, that wasn't my plan sweetheart. But I was gonna ask what a girl like you is doing walking down the highway at 7 am"

"On my way to school, and I just moved here so I don't really have a means of transportation just yet other than these bad boys" you said while patting your thighs, his eyes following your hands to your legs and lingering there for a second.

"Well it just so happens that's where I'm headed as well, why don't I give you a lift?"

"Uh...well...if there's one thing I know its that you're not supposed to get in vans with strangers. That's like tip number one of how to not get kidnapped"

"Listen sweetheart, I already said I wasn't gonna kidnap you. Plus I'm not a stranger, I'm Eddie, Eddie Munson." He held his right hand out of the van for you to shake, which you did. As you shook his hand, he leaned out of the van window and brought your hand to his lips, giving your knuckles a small kiss.

You were absolutely full of butterflies, but you didn't want to show it, so you tucked your head into your shoulder to hide your smile.

As Eddie let go of your hand, his fingers grazed past yours as your eyes looked up to meet his, which had been glued to you this entire time.

"So what do you say, a ride to school from a total non-stranger?" Eddie asked.

Your logic of course told you not to get in the van with the long-haired guy in a leather jacket, but your hormones apparently got the best of you cause next thing you knew you were being escorted to the passenger door by none other than Eddie Munson.

He held out a hand for you as you got in, which you took, and you also took note of the black bandana in the back pocket of his ripped jeans. Your time in Vegas wasn't wasted after all, you had learned some shit there. But you decided to just ignore that for now, and focus on the music playing on the radio - Metallica.

"You like metal music?" Eddie asked, breaking you from your trance.

"Uh yeah, yeah I do. I'm more of a rock gal, but I like Metallica a lot"

"I gathered that from your outfit. And I gotta say I'm surprised to hear you even knew their name"

"What, Metallica? Doesn't everyone know them"

"You'd be surprised sweetheart, around this town nobody really branches out from the norm," Eddie said, looking down into his lap.

He looked over to you, watching you bop your head back and forth to the music, "hey so uhh, I didn't catch your name back there"

"Oh um I'm y/n, I guess I totally forgot that when someone introduces themself, you're supposed to do the same thing back," you awkwardly chuckled before looking out the window.

----Eddie's POV----

y/n stared out the window, looking at god knows what, but all you could think about was how you managed to discover the most beautiful girl you'd ever seen on your drive to school. It was like she spawned out of thin air. You knew absolutely nothing about her other than she was new in town and liked rock music, but you could already feel a crush forming.

You hoped you hadn't been too forward with her, offering her a ride, kissing her hand, calling her nicknames...but you wanted her first impression of you to be good in the hopes that they would somehow overcome all the shit she'd hear about you as soon as school started. About you being 'the freak' and not graduating on time, all that nonsense. You wanted her to see you as a friend, someone she could count on, and maybe in the future something more than that. She was beautiful, and she was all you were gonna think about for the rest of the day.

----y/n's POV----

Eddie pulled into the empty parking lot, stopping the van before running to the passenger side and helping you out.

"Eddie, thank you so much for the ride, and for not kidnapping me, I really appreciate it...especially the kidnapping part"

"What'd I tell you princess...nothing to worry about here," Eddie said as he gestured to himself. As he opened his arms you got a glimpse of his t-shirt, 'Hellfire Club,' with a demon? on it? This man really was an enigma, but boy was he charming. You giggled as you pulled your backpack straps on, turning to walk towards school.

"Hey uhhh I have to take care of something before school, but um I'll see you later hopefully, yeah?" Eddie asked, walking backwards towards the woods beyond the parking lot.

"Oh yeah, okay! Um, thanks again Eddie, I'll see you around." You turned and started walking towards the doors.

"Hey y/n!" Eddie shouted, "It was an absolute pleasure meeting you, m'lady" he did a little bow before turning to the woods and walking away.

Who the hell was this man, and how did he already have you thinking about nothing but him before your first day even started?

----In the counselor's office----

"Okay y/n, your transcript looks great, your schedule looks complete, and you're all ready to go on my end. I'm having another student walk you around today to get you acquainted with the school and help you get yourself settled socially, and she'll also be able to answer any questions you have about clubs or extracurriculars," the counselor said, handing you a packet of papers with your schedule on top.

"Oh okay, thanks," you said, taking the packet.

"Her name is Robin, she's in our band and she's in most of the same classes as you. I think you two will really hit it off well!" With that, Robin busted through the door of the office panting. She was dressed head to toe in a marching band outfit, complete with the plumed hat and all.

"Hi um, you must be y/n, I'm Robin," she said before diverting her eyes to the counselor, "and I'm so so sorry I was so late, you see I was getting a ride from my friend Steve but I forgot my hat at home. You know me I'm a total klutz. And I-I- was rushing to find it and it was in absolutely the last place I would have thought to look..." Robin droned on, making you giggle as you stared at her in wonder.

"It's quite alright, Robin, y/n and I were just finishing up actually. And seeing as today starts with a pep-rally, I can't see why we really need to worry about punctuality anyway" She said, handing a copy of your schedule to Robin.

Robin opened the door for you as you walked out of the office. As soon as you were out she cornered you against the doorframe and started talking.

"Listen, y/n, I'm so sorry for being late. And I've also got to warn you I talk a lot, like a lot a lot, especially when I'm nervous. And this pep rally has my nerves waaay through the roof, and I'm really really not prepared for it," she panted as she stared at you, "anyway, I'm really excited to show you around today, I think we'll get along splendidly." She smiled and took your arm in hers, walking you down the hallway to the gym, where she joined the band and you sat in the far back corner behind them, observing all the other students coming in, hoping to get a glimpse of a certain boy in particular.

--

Part 3

[lonely-soul-02]

What do you think Liams latest interview implies about his relationship with Noel? He seemed sort of "meh" about Noel and him saying not to a 2024 DM tour.

They're trying but it's maybe a case of one step forward, two steps backwards. Liam's attitude has echoes of when Noel said recently, "It's not the end of the world," about Liam blocking his attempt to put out a compilation album of 2000s Oasis, which, by the way, THANKS A LOT LIAM just go and DENY US THAT ALBUM WHY DON'T YOU 😒 Ahem. Yeah, so he's a bit 'meh' but at the same time there's some understanding there. He's not going to battle over it, same as Noel wasn't going to battle over the album release. I'd like to think it means progress but I'm er...managing my expectations considering they're apparently still speaking through third parties. As an aside, I'm interested in why Liam's team offered the Oasis reunion before they've reconciled as brothers. Did they think Noel would be tempted by a cash grab? Or did they think it would incentivise a brotherly reunion? Whatever the case, I think we can now put to bed the notion that Noel would only ever do this for the money.

There is still hope however!

Some food for thought about where's Noel's mind was at in 2011 when he was up for a reunion. Is he still thinking this way? Hmm...

“Well I regret when I was sat in the car and I kind of made a snap decision, really, if I had my time again I’d have thought about it a bit more and gone back, done the gig, done the next, there was only two gigs left on the tour,” he remarked.

“It was a hasty decision I’ve got to say, and we could maybe have all gone off and done other things for a few years. In my own head the 2015, 20-year anniversary of ‘…Morning Glory’ is looming and we could have maybe come back, made a new album and played that album in its entirety [WTSMG] and gone and been the greatest thing ever, but there you go.”

Absolute Radio August 2011

Is there any chance that Oasis will ever reunite?

“Liam has said that the idea makes him vomit and it would never happen, so I don’t need to add anything to that. I don’t need the fucking money, but I think it’s a shame that songs like “Champagne Supernova,” “Rock and Roll Star,” “The Importance of Being Idle” and “The Shock of the Lightning” will never be played again. In a stadium. That kind of fills me with sadness. The money is kind of irrelevant. There’s bands that say, ‘We don’t want to get back together. We’d have to make a new record.' Why? Fuck a new record. No one gives a shit about your new record. Play the fucking old ones. The Led Zeppelin guys are like, ‘There will have to be a new record.’ Really? Yeah, because that would be fucking great, wouldn’t it? Play fucking ‘Whole Lotta Love.’ Get over it.

So, you’re saying there won’t ever be a reunion? Most groups say ‘never ever’ and then 10 years later, they do it.

"I’m saying that the singer has said “Never ever.” So we’ll leave it at that. 

Rolling Stone Magazine Oct 2011

[shallowseeker]

Jack time travel fic idea

Mirroring Dean's speech to Mary in 12x01

DEAN (breathing heavily) Mom. Listen to me. Your name – your name is Mary Sandra Campbell, okay? You were born December 5, 1954, to Samuel and Deanna Campbell. Your father, he bounced around a lot for, uh, work, and you bounced right along with him, and you ended up in Lawrence, Kansas. MARY: How do you know all that? DEAN: Dad told me. March 23, 1972, you walked out of a movie theater – Slaughterhouse-Five. You loved it, and you bumped into a big Marine and you knocked him flat on his ass. You were embarrassed, and he laughed it off, said you could make it up to him with a cup of coffee. So, you went to, uh, Mulroney's and you talked and he was cute and he knew the words to every Zeppelin song, so when he asked you for your number, you gave it to him, even though you knew your dad would be pissed. That was the night that – that you met – MARY: John Winchester. DEAN: August 19, 1975, you were married... in Reno. Your idea. A few years later, I came along, then Sammy.

///

Jack to Dean:

I know you don't trust me, but listen. You were born on January 24, 1979 to John and Mary Winchester. You say you're an Aquarius who likes long walks on the beach, but the truth is you really hate sand.

Your dad raised you in The Life, on the road with Sam. When you were 16, you got arrested for stealing and spent time in a boys' home. You loved it there.

You've had a gun in your hands for as long as you can remember, but what you really wanted to be was a fireman, a mechanic, maybe a rock star. Your favorite song is a tie between "Ramble On" and "Traveling Riverside Blues," and you always say that all music made after 1979 sucks. You've seen the "Untouchables" over fifty times and probably "The Lost Boys" even more than that.

You know 101 ways to make mac and cheese, and you don't know it yet, but you make the best Mexican Rotel casserole.

///

Jack to Cas:

I'm Jack Kline. I'm your...your...well. It doesn't matter who I am. Just know that I...I care about you. A lot.

Your name's Castiel. You're old. At least 4.543 billion years old, but you always say being an angel is like being old and young at the same time.

You’ve been a soldier as long as you can remember. Whenever you disagreed with your mission, Heaven tortured you. Gruesomely. You told me once that it felt like how the fish looked when it got blendered in Deuce Bigalow, Male Gigolo.

You know you caused the eruption of Mount Vesuvius and defeated the Romans at The Battle of Cannae. Sometimes, you were summoned to slaughter entire armies. Other times, it was to carry out genocide against all the children of the land.

You were there during the Great Flood, and when Gabriel led the slaughter of the Nephilim and their families. You told me once that you're terrified you've had human allies before. You're scared that you'll forget us, and your life will go back to how it was before, an endless cycle of war and death.

You raised Dean Winchester to Earth on September 18, 2008. That's why you decided to rebel again, maybe even for the last time.

///

Jack to Sam:

Your name's Sam Winchester. You were born May 2, 1983. Six months later, on November 2, Azazel infected you and murdered you mom… Mary.

You felt that burden your whole life.

Your dad trained you to be a soldier since you were eight years old, “to protect yourself,” he said. But it was your brother Dean who protected you.

You spent most of your life hopping from one hotel to the next. It was crusty and horrible and you never felt like you belonged anywhere.

But you studied hard and got a scholarship to become a lawyer at the Harvard. There, you fell in love with the most beautiful girl, Jessica Moore... but then, Azazel came after her, too.

You'd never admit it to Dean, but after that, "My Heart Will Go On" by Celene Dion got you through some of the worst moments of your life.

You--you were the first one who told me that I could be good.

///

To Bobby:

"I like you-you. The you that I knew liked newsboy caps."

///

Bobby's face: 🤨

How Bobby dresses Jack ‘cause it tickles my sense of humor:

[bu1410]

Good morning TUMBLR. From today February 29, 2024, I have decided to publish a sort of memoir of my life in installments on TUMBLR. These are memories of travel and work experiences around the world, over a period of approximately 40 years.

The title is': ''Mr. Plant has owed me a shoe since July 5, 1971."

I hope to interest at least three or four readers.

Introduction Why this curious title, you will ask yourselves, my dear 3 or 4 readers. Well I have to think back to an evening way back in 1971, where I was one of the 20,000-odd spectators at a Led Zeppelin concert, the greatest rock group of all time. The concert, which had just begun for goodness sake, was interrupted by police charges, and we were forced to flee from the Vigorelli velodrome in Milan following the throwing of tear gas. Much has been said and written about that unfortunate evening. The fact is that despite Robert Plant's appeals for calm (Smile! Smile! Smile! he shouted into the microphone) which also sounded a little ironic, given the frequent firing of tear gas, at a certain point under the pressure of the human tide who was pushing us against the stage (we were among the lucky ones in the front rows) me and the 3 friends with whom I had come to attend the concert were forced to flee towards the velodrome track, and then to climb over the fence. In the excitement of the moment I lost one of my tennis shoes, but by then I was on the other side of the fence, and about 2 or 3 thousand people wanted to do the same thing, that is, climb over the fence! So I had to abandon the unhealthy idea of going back to the other side to retrieve the shoe. We somehow managed to escape from the velodrome, and took refuge on the floor of the FIAT 850 parked around there, in which we had come to the concert. Meanwhile the battle raged all around us. Every now and then we took a look out the windows, but the smoke from the tear gas and the burning cars didn't allow us to see much of what was happening. There were only big bangs and explosions of weapons and sirens that wouldn't stop screaming. I remember clearly seeing and hearing a lady from one of the balconies of the condominiums around the velodrami shouting at the policemen: ''Kill all those bastards…….don't leave even one alive….!! It all ended after hours, and all we had to do was sadly return home, happy to have saved our skin. The car - owned by the friend Eridano's mother - was full of dents, but the windows were intact. Later, when I finally got home, I threw the remaining shoe in the garbage.

INCIPIT But who is Bruno Sironi? It's easy to say: a child of '68 and the so-called ''Economic Boom'' - one of the many (all…) who had been made to believe that ''life will always be better'' and that ''the future will belongs''(and the best is yet to come) One who saw Italians go from the Vespa to the ''500'' and from the 500 to the 600 and then gradually the 850 and then the FIAT UNO and the Ritmo…and the butchers' boys ride in Alfa GT Junior (1,260,000 Lire in 1970) . To then understand that this was not the case and suddenly, just as it had begun, the era of continuous ''progress'' could (and did) end (and end badly). One who had to hear Comrade ''in cashmere'' Bertinotti that ''For the first time since the end of the last war there is the prospect that children will have a worse life than their fathers''. And the lawyer Agnelli declared in the famous television interview with Mixer in 1984 - to a question from the journalist Minoli on what Italy's prospects could be - he first adjusted his sypholine leg, and then replied: ''But you see Minoli… I believe that if all goes well… within a couple of decades Italy will be able to aspire to a standard of living equal to the best of the so-called Socialist countries, namely Hungary''. And that son of so-called progress, who has now grown old, has now realized that there is never an end to the worst. Because trying to make things worse - beyond Murphy's Laws - is in the nature of man (especially homo Italicus) much more than improving them. And that perhaps human beings start out with the best intentions, but then along the way, when faced with difficulties, they choose compromise, circumventing the obstacle, and almost never overcoming it. And finally, at all latitudes, in every historical period, and under any type of regime, what characterizes human beings is the instinct of dominance. And man's obsession with dominance derives from the very origin of animal DNA, and binds the destiny of every one of us. With these premises, and with a lot of suffering, I began my working adventure abroad by leaving for Arabia (Not Felix…) on 5 May 1980. Yes, the day of the anniversary of Napoleon's death, which I remembered (and I remember still …) by heart the poem dedicated to him by Alessandro Manzoni: He was….since immobile given the mortal sigh….He stood the remains oblivious to such a breath. But before that first trip, there are things and events that are worth telling, because as always, nothing is as it seems. As often happens, a friend, a certain Figini Mauro, approached me one day at the bar and said: ''You know, I have an uncle who works for a large construction company in Milan, with activities abroad'' – Really? ? I answer immediately interested - and what's his name, give me all the details, put me in contact with him, I want to try to have an interview (in short I felt inside that it could be more than one possibility) No sooner said than done, the day arrives when I am summoned to the offices of the ''Great Society''. The headquarters was located at the end of a street in the south of Milan, the continuation of Via Savona, after Viale Tibaldi. I get there first by trolleybus 90 (the Circunvallasiun) and then by walking for a few hundred meters on a dirt road. Admitted inside, I am introduced to a manager by the famous ''Uncle'' - who sings my praises: ''a good boy, good family, I guarantee'' (never seen or heard from the ''Uncle'' before that moment…) It is agreed that, before leaving for Saudi Arabia (Saudi Arabia???), I should spend a few days in an architecture studio in Milan (in Via Pantano). Architect Sala will take care of me, and possibly judge whether I am suitable to be sent to Saudi to draw up the so-called As Built (an English expression meaning ''As built'') drawings, i.e. how any project has been completed, with the changes made during construction highlighted. I thus learn (from Arch Sala) that the Big Society is building a military hospital in Dahran in the Eastern province (a military hospital which later, during the Gulf wars, proved to be very useful).

I then spent a week in the famous architecture studio, which I reached every morning with the public transport of the time: tram from Nova M. to via Farini, then the 8, which took me to via Orefici on the corner of Duomo. And then on foot along Via Mazzini, Via Larga – Via Pantano. Declared ''Suitable'' for the purpose (after having designed a hospital stretcher beater) I was then hired by Big Society and sent to Saudi with the Milan Linate – Rome – Riyadh – Dahran flights: I have a vivid memory of the seat on the left on the plane that I occupied, and of the vision of the Pre-Alps when we turned towards the South: the mountains of my youth disappeared on the horizon… No, it doesn't seem to me that ''as if it were now'', perhaps the opposite: I have the clear perception how much time has passed, 40 or more years… even the century has changed…….

[shotattheshow]

[REVIEW] Bowling For Soup @ Rickshaw Theatre

By Jacob Zinn

It’s hard to believe it’s been 20 years since Bowling For Soup’s A Hangover You Don’t Deserve was released – but it’s even harder to believe that Friday was their first time performing in Vancouver since the 2003 Warped Tour, before their biggest album ever came out.

But the pop-punk stalwarts finally found their way north of the border for a series of Canadian dates, including a sold out headliner at the Rickshaw Theatre to celebrate the album’s 20th anniversary.

[PHOTOS] Bowling For Soup @ Rickshaw Theatre

The temporary trio from Texas (founding lead guitarist Chris Burney is recovering from surgery) was joined by Insta-famous Long Island rock quartet Adam and the Metal Hawks and Rhode Island pop punkers MAKEOUT (formerly Trophy Wives) for easily one of the funnest shows of the year.

[PHOTOS] MAKEOUT @ Rickshaw Theatre

MAKEOUT got things started with a series of instant singalongs like “Childish, “Lisa” (to anyone named Lisa, they’re so sorry) and the ever-catchy “Crazy.” Guitarist Tyler Young and vocalist Kyle Dee warmed the crowd up from the front of the stage while drummer Scott Eckel kept a low profile in the back – all-in-all, an impressive opening set by the touring three-piece.

[PHOTOS] Adam and the Metal Hawks @ Rickshaw Theatre

From social media to the stage, AMH kicked off their set with the Rocky Horror Picture Show classic “Time Warp” and alternated between original tunes such as “Backwards” and “Fine Line” – all heavily influenced by the likes of Led Zeppelin, AC/DC and Tenacious D – and covers of Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me Now,” The Killers’ “Mr. Brightside” and Jimmy Eat World’s “The Middle.”

Then came time for Bowling For Soup – the 21-year wait was over! Going song for song, singer/guitarist Jaret Reddick, drummer Gary Wiseman and bassist Rob Felicetti launched into the came-up-short anthem “Almost” followed by headwear love song “Trucker Hat” and their biggest smash earworm, “1985.”

Touring on an album means playing it front-to-back in its entirety – all 17 tracks – and about halfway through, singer Jaret Reddick acknowledged that their set was inadvertently front-loaded by the album’s three hit singles. (Including the highlight of MAKEOUT taking over the onstage responsibilities during “Ohio (Come Back to Texas)” midsong.)

“This next song is my favourite song on the album,” said Reddick, referring to “Last Call Casualty.”

“I think it should’ve been a hit, but we had three or four other ones off this album, and we’ve already played them so you guys are going, ‘Fuck, shit…’ But here’s the thing, if you guys make it through this whole album, we’re gonna play more hits afterwards!”

And indeed they did! After peppering in some other AHYDD favourites like “Next Ex-Girlfriend,” “A-Hole” and “Smoothie King,” Reddick invited a lucky fan named Brittany onstage to spin a wheel for the next song – she crossed her fingers for “Emily,” and as fate would have it, the spin actually landed on it!

The encore rounded out the night with three of the band’s biggest early-to-mid 2000s throwbacks.

First up, “High School Never Ends” perfectly reminded us of the celebrity culture of its time, and how little has changed in the last two decades. Then, perhaps for some of the younger fans, they led right into “Today is Gonna Be a Great Day,” the Phineas and Ferb theme song – there were more than a few Perry the Platypus hats in the crowd so this was a big one, even for those who attended Punk Rock 101.

And, of course, the show wouldn’t be complete without the penultimate song about your high school crush on a goth girl with a choker, “Girl All the Bad Guys Want.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, I hate goodbyes, but I do love the fact that we get to leave you… with THE BEST SONG EVER SUNG,” said Reddick before riffing into the finale.

But he also left the Vancouver crowd with some hope for a return sooner than later.

“It’s been a long time since we played in Canada, it’s been a long time since we toured here,” he said, “and I hope that we won’t take that long of a break again, it would be great to come back a time or two very, very soon.”

[bijouxcarys]

Honey Bee / Part One (1)

Pairing: Robert Plant x fem!reader x Jimmy Page x original female character

Summary: You've been on the road with Led Zeppelin for over two months now, acting as Robert's convenient little companion. It's now the final night of the tour, and tension has been rising. With the addition of Jimmy's new pretty young thing, you find yourself in a situation that just might take the cake for best night of your life...

Warnings: Heavy drug and alcohol use, a bit of heavy petting, slight objectification, degradation kink if you squint really hard, voyeurism

Word count: 2,756

***I've decided to split this into multiple parts since it would be really long if not, and I wanted to post something. Also, keep in mind that I have quite literally NEVER written Robert or Jimmy before. This is my first time, so go easy on me. I'm used to writing Brian May, who is very different lol***

Tags: @firethatgrewsolow @brownskinsugarplum76 @keepcalmandcarryfire @the-may-queer @callmethehunter @jimmypage7 @whothefuckisanja @laysidel-dekie @jimmys-zeppelin @m-faithfull @lemongrablothbrok @willem-dafuq @ri0thouse

He just looked so good.

But so did he.

And so did she.

Maybe it was the coke, well and truly infiltrating my system by this point. Or maybe it was a result of my third whiskey. I didn’t care. All she knew was that I’d never been this high, in multiple senses of the word, as I was that performance at Madison Square Garden back in 1973.

Apparently, they rarely, if ever, brought along a girl from a different country to another. And I held onto that feeling. Knowing that Robert Plant saw something in me that was worth bringing along over an ocean was enough to convince me that I had made the right decision to drop everything at home and take off with Led Zeppelin at the height of their success.

Honestly, I was well accustomed to the rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle by this point. I’d had one or two encounters with smaller bands that toured within the UK by the time I was 17. But Zeppelin was a whole other ball game. An entirely different planet. 

I didn’t care that this would one day end and that I’d go back to my dead job at a record shop. It couldn’t be too bad, right? I mean, if I hadn’t accepted that job in the first place, I would have never had the honour of being on this tour with the world’s greatest band at all.

Never underestimate a rockstar’s tendency to visit downtown music shops.

Robert and I had connected somewhat over our mutual interest in the blues. I slacked off my shift to take him to our storage space, just to let him rifle through the records we’d recently received. One thing led to another and I ended up accepting an open invitation to join him on tour.

19 and on the road with Led bloody Zeppelin.

It was their third and final night in New York, which also marked the last show of the tour. There was a subtle sense of anticipation that built throughout the whole tour, and it materialised progressively through the partying; the drinking, the drugs… the sex.

Everything seemed to get more and more intense every night. And, God, did that night take the win by a fleeting mile.

The fact that they had camera crews filming each move that night seemed to trigger something… feral… in the lads’ performance. I never got tired of watching Robert gyrate during Whole Lotta Love. The energy was potent. Like an intoxicating pheromone.

Usually by this point of the show, Robert would have already taken me somewhere backstage to get his fix–of both me and whatever he could get his hands on–during Moby Dick. But this time, I’d been given nothing but a small kiss and a cheeky smirk before he disappeared with Jimmy.

This left Lila and I dumbfounded.

Lila was a young girl who’d recently turned 18, and we met her the first night we were in New York. As per usual, she’d finessed her way backstage and caught Jimmy’s wandering gaze.

The air crackled with energy as Robert and Jimmy returned, wearing matching mischievous grins towards the end of Bonzo's solo. It was a sight suspicious even for those two.

I couldn't resist teasing Robert, smirking as I asked, "What are you up to?"

His dimple deepened, adding to his already endearing charm, even with a missing tooth. His hand caressed my head, sending a shiver down my spine.

"I have no clue what you're talking about, darlin'," he purred, leaning in closer. "Just a bit of light conversation."

"Light conversation?" I chuckled, playfully tugging him closer by his belt. "Why would you need that?"

"Don't you worry, sweet girl," he replied, shrouding his words in mystery. This deviation from Robert's usual character intrigued me, but before I could dwell on it, his lips were on mine, trapping me between his body and the wall.

As he pulled back, his lips brushing my nose, I noticed Jimmy and Lila in a similar position down the corridor.

Robert mumbled, "Don't look at them, darlin'," using his finger to redirect my gaze back to his face. His touch grazed my lower lip, gently tugging it down. "You'll have plenty of time to look at them later."

Before I could question his cryptic words, he winked and withdrew, exchanging a knowing smile with Jimmy before they headed back onstage.

The incident lingered at the edge of my consciousness for the rest of the show, and I sensed that Lila was in the same perplexed state. We exchanged subtle, intense looks, an unspoken desire to ask each other what was happening, yet neither of us dared to voice it.

But in the end, I just wanted the show to finish so Robert could drag me wherever he wanted and do whatever he wanted to me. Watching him, those jeans clinging to him, the stage lights casting a shimmer over his exposed upper half, and his hair flawlessly bouncing with each thrust and jive, had me squeezing my thighs together from the side of the stage.

Being with the boys since the beginning of the tour gave me time to warm up to Jimmy as well as get to know Robert a little more. Jimmy was never on my radar of attraction, but something about the way he carried himself became more and more alluring. Ominous, almost.

Day by day, I became more and more interested in him.

That’s why, by the end of the last show, I didn’t know who to look at. Robert, Jimmy, and even Lila. It was like I’d just taken a hot oestrogen bath with Eros and Aphrodite. 

If there was one thing I knew as clear as day, it was that I wanted them. All of them.

And that’s exactly what I ended up getting.

Within an hour, the customary Zeppelin afterparty was in full swing, taking over the entire ground floor of The Drake and spilling onto multiple floors, transforming the hotel into their own personal playground. The trademark mayhem ensued, marked by bleary-eyed revellers and a steady flow of alcohol that left nostrils white and throats raw from the endless libations.

The air was heavy with the scent of cigarette smoke and spilled liquor, punctuated by the echoing laughter and slurred conversational cheering of everyone in attendance. The room seemed to sway slightly, the dim hotel lighting dancing off the walls in a hazy, dreamlike aura. Amidst the chaos, I found myself settled on Robert’s lap on a worn, plush sofa, my limbs weightless.

Robert’s features softened under the influence, and he wore a lopsided grin as he leaned back against the cushions, hands sliding up my legs, one on each side of his hips. His eyes, glazed and partially unfocused, held a distant, dreamy look as he gazed out at the revelry around us. I traced my fingertips along the collar of his blouse, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath the silky fabric.

Beside us, Jimmy and Lila were enveloped in their own intimate world. She exuded an irresistible allure as her dark, cascading hair spilled over the arm of the sofa. Her head, delicately poised on the cushiony surface, seemed to radiate nothing but pure admiration for the guitarist looming over her.

Draped over Jimmy’s lap, her supple body was a study in effortless grace, her bronzed skin glowing in the soft, amber light. Her slender, bare legs extended languorously along the expanse of the sofa. The subtle arch of her foot, adorned with a pair of sleek, platform heels, found a resting place on my thigh, the faint pressure a tangible reminder of her presence. One glance, and you could see right up her flowy mini skirt.

“What are you so smiley about?” I asked Robert with a hum, eyelids hooding as I made the cautious decision to shift my hips against his. The steady grip he had on the backs of my knees rose to the bare space between my knee-high socks and corduroy skirt, fingers gripping onto the flesh of my thighs.

“Hmm… you keep lookin’,” he remarked, his gaze momentarily flickering to Lila’s legs before returning to meet my eyes.

I couldn’t help but laugh softly, feeling my cheeks flush with warmth. “No, I don’t,” I protested weakly, attempting to convince him that I wasn’t doing anything of the sort.

His hands gently framed my face, drawing me down closer to him. “No, no, darlin’, you do,” he insisted, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. “And that’s okay!” he added, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “In fact, it’s rather preferable.”

He kept his eyes trained on me as one hand guided my head to turn in the direction of Jimmy and Lila. “She is gorgeous, isn’t she, love?” Robert hummed into my ear. Before I could answer, his free hand slid under my skirt, his long fingers teasing my underwear. My breath hitched in my throat, managing to feast my eyes on Lila’s legs freely.

With a bite of my lips, I found myself grinding into Robert’s hand. We both watched with intent as Jimmy’s hand lowered to find comfort under Lila’s skirt. Her girlish giggle cut through the air, making Jimmy chuckle and shift his gaze down to where his hand was.

He caught our eyes, sending us a smirk, his eyes glazed over and face somewhat flushed. Lila was none the wiser as we observed the guitarist’s petting.

That was when Peter decided it would be a good idea to document the completion of yet another successful tour. Successful if you forget the money that had been nicked the day before, but this was a nice respite from that unfortunate incident.

A rather large video camera nestled on his shoulder, Peter sidled over to us, letting out a rambunctious cheer.

“Ayy! Percy and Pagey enjoying the victorious ending to a triumphant tour!” His speech was erratic, loud, and jumbled. But then again, so was everyone’s.

Lila craned her head back to peer up at Peter and his camera, giggling yet again.

“Nothin’ better than a couple of beautiful birds after a show, eh?” He came closer, switching the focus from me and Robert, to Jimmy and Lila, and then back again. “Look at these two cunts stealing away all the totty.”

“It’s the charisma,” Robert chimed, sending a swift middle finger to the camera. 

“Is that so?” Jimmy jested from the side, earning a smack on the arm from Robert.

“Don’t be shy, doll, give us a smile!” Peter put the camera right by my face, where I confidently and playfully stuck out my tongue. “Ooh, she likes to put on a bit of a show, Perce.” 

I barely registered that Robert's fingers had found their way inside my underwear, massaging diligently at my soaked arousal, but a gentle prod of his middle finger against my clit caused me to jump a little and a small squeak to fall from my lips. Robert let out a boastful laugh, his free hand pushing some of his hair out of his face.

“Ey, I’m not the one kicking my legs about so everyone can see my pants,” I retaliated in the haze of cocaine, pointing in Lila’s direction.

“Not like you haven’t been enjoying the view, Y/N,” Lila purred, lifting a leg up enthusiastically. 

“Ayyyy!” Peter cheered, angling the camera just enough to catch Lila’s actions for the brief moment that she did it. “I’m gonna do my rounds, make sure I get everyone, and I’ll be back here in a few.”

I grinned down at Robert as Peter left, looking down at his hand between us. 

“I’m not an expert, but something tells me that you quite like the prying eyes of others, darlin’,” Robert said, keeping up with the movements of his fingers.

“Hmm, and what if I do?” I prodded, tilting my head to the side.

I didn’t get a response, only a hand in my hair and a swift pull downwards, my lips crashing against Robert’s wantonly. I basked in the feeling, my hips grinding down yet again as his tongue rolled expertly into my mouth. 

Letting out a moan against his lips, I felt a light stroke on my leg that wasn’t from Robert. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Jimmy’s extended arm, his hand resting around Lila’s ankle and his fingers resting just above my socks. Smirking against Robert’s lips, I held onto his shoulders, deepening our kiss.

“D’ya want some more, darlin’?” Robert murmured, reaching down to retrieve the clear plastic bag from his pocket, the same one he had revealed earlier that night.

My response was a whispered, “Yes, accompanied by a mischievous smile.

He gently guided me off his lap, positioning me on the floor between him and the coffee table. With my back to him, I watched as he leaned over to empty the remaining contents of the bag onto the hand mirror that laid on the table, drawing the attention of those around us.

“Lila?” Robert called, turning his attention to the almond-eyed beauty. Her gaze met his, and her eyes lit up in response to his gesture, followed by a nod of acknowledgement. It didn’t take long for Lila to settle in beside me, with Jimmy sitting upright behind her.

“There you go, my sweet little honey bee,” Robert hummed into my ear, his lips pressing a tender kiss to the side of my neck. 

Lila’s delicate fingers trailed over the powdered surface, deftly rearranging the lines into perfect, symmetrical rows. She glanced up at me with a secretive smile, her dark eyes glinting with a shared understanding. The faint scent of her perfume, a delicate blend of jasmine and musk, mingled with the heady aroma of the night.

With the two rockstars sitting protectively behind us, Lila and I leaned forward, each of us inhaling two lines with practised ease. A subtle thrill coursed through me as my back arched instinctively, responding to the tantalising touch of Robert’s hand settling on my hip, his thumb daring to explore closer to where desire truly lingered.

“We’ve certainly struck gold, haven’t we, Perce?” Jimmy’s voice drifted over, undoubtedly revelling in the captivating sight before him.

As Lila and I continued with our indulgence, the sounds of cheering and hollering filled the air around us, the realisation dawning upon us that we indeed had an audience.

And I relished every moment of it.

Still bent over, I looked over my shoulder, catching Jimmy’s lingering gaze. Our eyes met for a moment, and we sent each other a suggestive smirk before I pulled myself up to lean back against Robert.

“Did you enjoy that, darlin’?” he asked with a knowing grin as I raised my arms behind me to rest them on his shoulders. His fingers trailed up my sides, his touch igniting a fire under the thin material of my skin-tight, long-sleeved top. “You think you could do me the honour and let me have some, too?” he asked again with a playful flare.

“Mhm,” I nodded with a hazy smile. But just as I was about to move out of his way, he stopped me.

“No. Stay,” he gently commanded. Smiling smugly down at my confused face, he grabbed a spoon from the table and scooped up some of the white powder, bringing it closer to me. “Head all the way back, sweetheart.” With a deep breath, I leaned backwards, finding myself half-laying across one of Robert’s thighs. “That’s a good girl…”

I gnawed my lip as I felt the cold edge of the spoon under my neck and across my exposed skin. It was difficult to stay in this pose, especially with Lila's hand on my leg. I was beginning to feel the effects of the fervent stares of the crowd, followed by Peter Grant's roaring laughter.

My eyes fluttered shut as Robert lowered his head and inhaled the cocaine straight off of my skin. He dragged his tongue along the residual powder, accompanying his actions with heated, open-mouthed kisses which he swiftly punctuated with a kiss to my lips.

Boisterous cheering and clapping erupted as Jimmy repeated the action on Lila, the intimacy of the moment intoxicating the four of us. With Robert’s hand on my neck, he continued to kiss me in front of the whole room.

“You ready to put on a proper show for the camera, sweetheart?”

[greatsaladavenue]

Replies to anons

I’ve heard Imagine ofcourse but I do like more solo stuff post Beatles by Paul and John then by George. Sorry Mom.

 Been a Beatle fan longer than I haven’t, my Mother is the Beatle fan, her favorite has always been George, and really super-stans him.

 She has seen Paul in concert but I have never heard a Paul post- Beatle song before 2022! Or John – aside of Imagine and, Live and let die and them christmas songs.

 Solo: George-”All things must pass album + When we was fab, All those years ago , Got my mind set on you.

Paul – McCartney, Ram + Tug of war, This one, Little lamb Dragonfly, , However Absurd, No More lonely nights.  John –Plastic ono band + Dream9 ,Working class hero, I know, I know, Mind games, Beautiful boy.

  Ringo – Photograph, Back off boogaloo, Midnight Vienna.

 My favorite is John because even before I knew anything about the Beatles or who wrote or sang what I liked John led songs. I still do. Don’t think he’s better that the others. In my world they where better together and neither was really better than the sum. I know what he did, I know he is bad and all that. Guess what I don’t really care.

 I have a type in looks and john fit there. My Dad and brothers are the musicians in our family but Dad and is more a Elvis fan, (he + a brother died some many years ago but see it's Paul in me talking of them ) my brothers likes them too but they are more hard rock/metal fans. (in music I have the 70-80's metal genre ! the favourite band I Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin. GEORGE usually gets my vote post-Beatle look as favorite looking Beatle, old man is RINGO!

 I grew up in the late 80/90’s when rock music started to really to go down and rap took over. "Harry Potter" was huge, It was nice to be part of something like that but then Rowling happend... I even had a short boy band period. Eminem was the biggest artist on the planet. I like 80’s and 90’s rap too. I pretty much like older music and a big fan of 80’s pop music too, Prince, Michael Jackson. I really love music and not just the Beatles along with some other artists and bands has more song that I like or has grown on me with time. I guess it’s true that older music was better.

I sort of feel a bit lonely with my Beatles  nobody around me IRL cares or think they’re overrated. I can agree that sometimes the beatles fandom can be a bit too much with the ”The Beatles did eveything first” and hate other acts who also was very important for music. Ofcourse it matters that the Beatles was white, ”sic” as most of the fanbase.  I have so many favorites and I love that I do.

McLennon is what really got me into the fandom. I’m straight myself but I’d never like want to fuck a 80 + year old man but I would be a Beatle groupie back in the days and don’t care which one I would do all of them. However I don’t really care what and if something happend between them I just see what i see, I hear what I hear. J+P are not straight

 I’m a mclennon thruther they where in love with each other! They where gay for each other. I don’t push Mclennon on anybody but here on Tumblr I do. I don’t think I believe eveything I read here is true, I also think many trolling this fandom and some seem to make fun it and comes off as a bit offensive to them as IRL queers. I can understand why Paul’s not coming out. I wouldn’t either in this or as part of the older fandom.

However I’m all for RPF, Yaoi, Yuri and femme the hell out of them. They do have that humour. Also they did all of it themselves, Iol, meaning if they didn't act this way we wouldn't be here. And I don't mean it as famous people they get a queer card.

I’m happy to continue reading your fics and fortcoming posts here. I really am!  I’ll probably keep my existence here as a re-blogger  because Beatles fans aren’t always nice about "us nutcases here" ( but it's better here than on other forums) and too many trolls end up here on tumblr mclennon. all the Beatles have haters and super-stans. Both is just as bad in my opinion. I love them so much, all four of them so much I don’t really have a favorite in Beatles, JOHN still gets my vote I'm a John -girl but they are still so connected. I do like more John-Beatle-songs than by the others tho and was super gorgeous.  

McLennon is my secret sin. I can’t unsee it or explain in any other way. There's a hole missing in the Beatles history as much as in their lives (J+P but also George how he was "left out" tho Paul and him knew each other before. Wouldn't Paul be saying more insane stuff about him too?) things would fill the blanks with McLennon! How can people not see that is my biggest issue. But far too many still today would say like if you got kids, has a wife, has sex with girls, you can't be gay. Yes, they both married women. but Well.. It's mind-blowing. They were so into each other.

My favorites Beatle songs and solo also keep changing all the time:

But The Beatles: Albums: From With the Beatles. Rubber soul and the White album.

 A day in life is a masterpiece.

I also end up listing Happiness is a warm gun, Something, Here, there eveywhere, Across the universe, Help, I will, All my loving, And your bird can sing, Tomorrow never knows etc!

McLennon: Again!

I absolutly believe it was was real. They where in love. The end goodbye. Sex yes they had sex in many ways. But whatever, when how they did it or talked about it or kissed? I'm sure some of the answers is in fan fiction lol. Reality is worse than fiction. Lol. But sometimes  I don’t think they never thought it was a big deal, like it was part of a song to Paul or whatever, and John’s did something to do with glasses. Like that's not me, this is me look at me. No i don’t know but quite often I just think it’s exactly what they are saying and didn’t label it. Other times I think they knew perfectly well what they did and they made own words so only they would know. Now we have Paul's sane but !? version for 40 + years vs John's bat shit craze -like 6+ years. of course it gonna shape our version of them and what happend between them.

 I do think whatever happend in the end John left and walked out of it how, when, why again is another story. I honestly don’t think he ever was secure of anything in his life and Yoko didn't help. I can't or more like don't want to believe eveything that is written about her tho. But the way she looks at him in the beginning she did love him then and there. She has at least made good things too for the fandom, made hits herself, worked for peace and less guns etc.

Paul more like gave up. I don’t blame or think India caused it but it deffo did not help! But neither did think of themselves at least at that point that they would try to claim anyhing of course Paul wanted a family and John knew that. I don't really see how they could have "solved" in any other way. At that time.

I have more thoughts about it. Here's when my mind keep changing. Whos missed who the most? who's more depressed? Woah don't forget it also WAS and IS tough to leave friends and bandmates behind, please do include that. Not everthing is gay either! But I’m pretty sure more than we know knew about it or at least thought the same thing.

They where ALSO friends, brothers,close,bandmates and shared this magic connection with George and Ringo. Sometimes I believe they got jealous of each other’s closeness, especially post beatles and they did tried to re-create this with other people too and this is perhaps the most telling, besides quotes, interviews,pictures, videos and songs. Yeah many songs are about that and each other.

 I don’t push away the idea of other ships happening in the band or other male lovers but if it was only them, to either of them it may have add to some of the confusion. So I don’t hold that against it. Actually I don’t really care much about their lives or families outside of the Beatles. Lol. Neither of them.

My favorite Beatle girl is Cynthia. I just think she’s beautiful. And the only girl who didn’t marry a Beatle-Beatle. I don’t really think John would have stayed that long if he didn’t at some point love her. Or any of the other he "kept around but left behind".