#robert plant fan fic

[untilthenextencore]

Nights To Remember Pt. 1: Of Gods & Goddesses & Magick & Memories~...

Backstory: Summer 1973~. Jimmy & Dahlia had gotten married in the past year~. Some of the more territorial newer wannabe groupies are having a hard time coping with not just her continual presence on tour, but now Dahlia's new status as THE Mrs. Page~. Her & Robert's displaying their close friendship doesn't help~.

Their subsequent finding a friendly way to deal with their boredom amongst the goings on that the hangers on & wannabe groupies live for by escaping certainly doesn't help~.

Robert offers the escape~. He's always been a little in awe of Pagey's choice of girl both in general in the early days, but also in the form of his chosen one, Dahlia~. She is so familiar yet foreign to him it makes his head spin~. So worldly, yet down to earth~. A mix of city yet downhome that he might've chosen for himself if he had the chance~. But as far as he's known her she's been Pagey's~. Solidly, decidedly, faithfully Pagey's~.

Suffice to say, even in his happiest moments in the friendship he's conflicted~. Even though they're not cheating or going behind Pagey's back~.

But when he finds himself even moreso conflicted about the cloak & dagger aspect of their innocent little excursion, that he himself offered initially, he then finds the idea of Pagey finding out also somehow doesn't appeal to him~.

~

Ho hum. Another day. Another dollar. Another concert. Another party. Another night to remember. Until they forget it all in the morning. Or lose track of which night in the sea of "nights to remember" held the goings on their shattered minds remembered only fractures of at tour's end. Glittered & goggle eyed groupies frantically flipped over themselves to catch the eye of anyone who was anyone in King Robert's court. Or so it seemed.

True. Robert was holding court like he was king. One of four at least. But being in the middle of yet another tour - an American one at that - only meant one thing. Like the others he was left without a queen. Only one of their roundtable could however not lay claim to such a misfortune. The luckiest one among them. The wizard in his stars & moon suit himself. James Patrick Page.

No. Because as ever Jimmy had brought along his lady. Lady Dahlia-Maria Dominguez Page. The Lady who was a natural creative herself it seemed. She & her camera, while remaining discreet & unobtrusive, furnished some of the most intimate portraits of the band allowed. A few Peter even sold at the merch table, netting her a tidy sum of her own aside from being married to he of the led wallet and house of Tower.

Though she only released a few here and there. She too liked to maintain her own brand of privacy. Despite the wingding that was their wedding in Hampton Court Palace - of all bleeding places - in the past year, she really preferred a smaller do generally. Friends & family & neighborhood kin & no more. As was borne out by the smaller dos held in Mexico at her family's small yet palatial feeling compound in Jalisco that was something of an early childhood home for her & Pagey's place in England for family that could not swing airfare for a trip to the palace.

Which begged the question.

What the hell was she doin here?!

Not that he begrudged her presence itself. Not at all. Robert & Dahlia always seemed to get on rather well. Down home types lost in the Wonderland that was the entertainment business. Though even with her downhome partial Mexican upbringing Dahlia was decidedly still more of a city girl to this country boy.

Being an LA local, Dahlia knew it like the back of her prettily manicured hand. A hand she also often used in keeping much of the frivolity at arm's length. Even when in the middle of it all. She seemingly always sat apart. That was what Robert didn't understand about her presence in such madness.

Clearly the groupies agreed. Equally manicured hands being verily filed into a point, eager to tear at a tawny-skinned throat as their owner's gripped. "What is SHE doing here?!" Calling her everything but a child of God or what her father's own book termed their culture, "Children of the Sun".

No matter.

She seemingly stayed unaffected.

Toying with her engagement & wedding rings just so. Arranging the gold bangle bracelets or matching pendant. Her only flashes of vanity or pride being her only answer. Letting both that & her presence along with the 5000 other ways she was the "chosen one" of the Mr. James Patrick Page do the talking for her. Knowing her, if she were feeling cheeky she might whip out her instant camera & take a pic of the offending party, leaving some hanger on to deliver it & with it the picture proof / photo evidence of their bitterness as she & her beloved husband tangled fingers & held hands. They can have a pic. She had the real thing.

Guinevere was not giving up her throne.

Unbothered by the petty strife clawing at the door, begging to enter her beloved Camelot.

Rather, she looked bored, really.

Jimmy had disappeared with Bonzo. Off to take a powder likely. She had been chatting with Jonesy about books & things to get his girls & Mo back home, but now he too was off somewhere. Hangers on knew better than to try to ingratiate themselves with her. She had iced them out before. Now they well knew. There was no way in to the Page / Zeppelin inner sanctum with her.

As further proof, both of her seeming boredom & inaccessibility by groupie or hanger on, Robert saw her pull a small book out of her purse. That was Dahlia. Forever a bookworm. Sodom & Gomorrah at her feet. Head in the clouds. Nose in a book.

Before he knew it, Robert felt himself propelled towards her, stumbling a few times when a glittered & bejeweled fan flung & slung herself over him. Extricating himself deftly every time he uttered a soft, "Not this time, darlin'." "Maybe another night, doll." Or even "What will me missus, think?" Laughing his way out of harm's way as he bid them good night & left them to join the party. He caught more curses & sotto-voce snipes when they saw in what direction he was heading. But no matter. His course was set. Off he traveled to the "land of the people of the sun".

It was then that he allowed his six foot sun-people seeking self to cast a shadow over her in the midst of her reading. This had the intended effect of having the dim light she had been reading under all but disappear as he blocked it out. She whirled around to regard him with sharp eyes that were cut to him in momentary disgust. Her lips pursed as a similarly sharp tongue went about finding the right barb to fling before suddenly dropping its weapon. Her eyes widened before her gaze then softened in mirth as she lifted her arm in modified Roman salute, hand tilted upwards slightly. "Hail, Apollo. What brings the Sun God to these darkened shores?"

Sun God? He quite liked the sound of that. So he decided to play along, wracking his brain for his schoolboy Mythology.

"Hail, Aphrodite. I come in peace." He said, mimicking her salute with the hand that was not holding his beloved ale. "Or should it be Persephone, luv? By the way... Where is our beloved Hades?" Robert craved his neck around, looking for the dark-haired lord of the underworld that always seemed to be lurking around every corner when she was involved. "My stars." He gasped, putting a hand to his bared chest for affect. "I see no star suited one for miles. How is that possible?"

"I think he's off with your fellow northern friend right now. The one who plays either Dionysus or Ares if the bacchanalia goes too far." Dahlia quipped, her lips quirking into a wry grin as she pointed to Jonesy at the bar. "Hermes just left himself as well."

"Foolish ones they are." He tsked, shaking his head. "Leaving one so fair alone in the midst of such bacchanalia indeed."

Looking down he saw that where the glittered ones would have blushed or fluttered their eyelashes & twirled a curl of hair into a coil in flirtation, that was decidedly not Dahlia's - nor Aphrodite or Persephone's - way. Instead, she stayed looking up at him with the same wry grin & mirthful if still piercing stare along with a soft incredulous shake of the head. Her lips said nothing. But those eyes? Those eyes said EVERYTHING.

Clearing his throat & lubricating himself & his suddenly dry mouth with more ale, he jutted his chin at her book. "Whatcha readin' there, luv?"

"A mini collection of Harlem Renaissance poetry. Some classics. The usual." She marked her page & closed it to show him the cover art. Brown bodies arced & curved in exultation.

"Classics indeed. Your usual. A nice addition to your other usual Agatha Christies." He grinned. "What for?"

"Just because." She shrugged as she pocketed the book. "And because I figure if I'm to live in the aftermath of the Swinging Sixties... The Roaring Seventies some have termed... I better brush up on how the times used to Roar back in the day. Better brush up on my Cotton Club classic bacchanalia... Although..." She cast a suddenly weary look across all the goings on around them. Glittering, giggling, sharpened nails & tongues of hardened decidedly un flowerchild GTO like groupies & grubby fingered, coke jittery, tipsy-drunk, outstretched-handed hangers on included & heated a sigh. "Forgive me for saying but this pales in comparison to my childhood dreams of the Cotton Club."

"Indeed." He nodded with another sip of his ale. So she saw what he did that night. What he felt. She felt it too.

"I mean, not to be ungrateful or anything. Knowing how you like it & all. "Prince of Peace" that you are." There was that quirk of her lips again as she drawled the last part out.

Try as he might not to, he winced at the memory of those words leaving his lips unironically. Ah, so she had heard that story too. Of course she had. Was nothing a secret in this God forsaken place?!

His momentary embarrassment was compounded at the same time he was delightfully distracted by the sound of her sweet giggle. "I know how much fun you have typically. And I get how you dig the scene generally speaking. It just doesn't... It doesn't... It doesn't really do it for me... Not much... I mean all these people... They'd probably not spit on me if I were on fire if I wasn't with you guys. If I wasn't Mrs. Page. Hell, half of them would likely be the ones holding the match. Some of them still would now!" She cut her eyes in half dismissal half bemusement at the nail-filing bile-spitting groupies.

Naturally, she saw that too. Nothing escapes a goddess's eyes. A queen misses nothing.

"To clink glasses & break bread with them feels so false & disingenuous. Knowing all that, I mean. That's another reason I have this book." She tapped the book with a finger before closing her purse around it. "That way, I don't have to."

"Suffice to say, grateful though I am to be invited to these things, considering some of the company that find their way in... This ain't exactly my kinda party, Planty." She took her champagne glass from the table, clinking it with his bottle. "Cheers." Before downing the swallow or two that remained.

A moment passed in silent agreement. Robert having nodded at everything she said. The falsehoods of their lifestyle that were apparently hitting him hard that night, she had always seen. Hence her keeping it all at arm's length. Alice falling down a rabbit hole but landing on her own two feet. Dorothy traveling through Oz in a bubble of her own design. Pagey or not, his girl had her own magick. This he had always known. So had Pagey, he surmised, as evident by the rock on her finger as much as anything else.

"What is your type of party, luv? Missing Hampton Court?" He teased, though he knew her well enough to know better.

"No indeed." She laughed, nodding as he refilled her glass. "Thank you, kind sir." Then after a sip, she continued. "Even I know that night was a one in a million. A once in a lifetime event. Though that indeed was a night to remember as you well know."

There went that phrase again. At least this time it was worth it. That night truly was one to remember for all involved. Mariachis and Led Zeppelin acoustic jam at Hampton Court. Would wonders never cease? That had to be a first for all involved!

"But, c'mon blondie!" She nudged him, shaking him out of his reverie.

A reverie of her in her wedding whites with glittering mantilla veil coming down the aisle towards at the altar, seated next to Pagey, dancing with Pagey... And the dances he was able to share with her himself. Cor, was she a vision then. A lovelier bride he had hardly ever known.

Shaking out a wince at the thought of even thinking thar when he had his own missus at home... One who had a decidedly less ritzy do when her own turn came years earlier... He again silenced these demons with another swig of ale & turned his eyes back to the dusky goddess queen vision at hand.

"You know what it is. What my kind of party is. You know it about as well as Jimmy. Think about it."

"Jalisco?" Robert asked.

"Well, yeah." She nodded. "Yes, of course. But what about stateside? You remember. Though it's been awhile."

Robert instantly got hit with another blast from the past and he rattled off the vignettes as they came flashing back to him. "East LA. Whittier Boulevard. The Chuco." A quaint little chill hangout spot for local Chicano youth that played a mix of oldies, early rock'n'roll, Chicano groups, Latin jazz & Mexican or Latin music of all kinds.

Dahlia snapped her fingers & pointed at him. "Bingo. That's it. That's it exactly, Robert. That's my kind of party. All of it."

"Why don't we go back tonight then?" Robert offered with yet another swig from his bottle.

Dahlia paused mid thought. Mid answer. Her mouth falling open in a silent gasp & lack of immediate response. Try as she might, she couldn't really think of a reason not to. Maybe it was selfish of her, but she also really wanted to. Really wanted to. But still, she had to ask.

"Right now?" She whispered conspiratorially.

"Why not?" He shrugged. "S'gotta be better than this lot, yeah?"

Dahlia gave a quick look around & then went back to regarding Robert with a bemused smirk. "Don't you think they might miss you, your highness? I mean, how could they not miss their beloved Prince of Peace?"

He winced again at the little rib. (Dahlia was one of the rare very few whose barbs both landed & made him laugh.) But he did his best to play it off with a laugh & a wry grin of his own as he mused. "We'll be back."

Dahlia cast her eyes back over the bacchanalia, mulling things over. Another moment passed before she shot to her feet, tossing a soft voiced request over her shoulder. "Wait right here."

She then left the table & crossed over the room to Peter sitting at the bar with his ever present cigar, tapping him on the shoulder. She whispered something in his ear which had the cigar chomping bear of a man nearly dropping his cigar in shock as his jaw nearly slackened. He muttered something back, motioning to the goings on to which she shook her head, explaining further. She motioned across the room, lifting her hands in a quizzical shrug before pointing to the door, which was guarded shut. Then folding her hands together, she evidently pleads her case. And surprise surprise, wizened, hard negotiator Peter folds. He relents.

Peter motions to Magnet - of all people - pointing to her & motioning to a back entrance & hence exit. Dahlia squealed, leaping into Peter's arms & giving him a grateful squeeze. Peter grinned, hugging her back & patting her on the back with a meaty hand, making sure to keep his lit cigar away from her & keeping her safe from the ashes.

Upon breaking the hug, Dahlia turned to motion to Robert himself & tell Peter something else that nearly made him drop his cigar again. Peter's eyes widened & then narrowed. Clearly telling Peter that Robert too would be making his exit & taking his leave just then.

Peter's gaze sharpened... Not with malice... But with knowledge... He knew Robert... His types... His wonts... Or wants...

Robert knew this well...

And so it was that as Robert sidled up to both Magnet & Dahlia, he heard something above the whines & curses of the groupies. A few gruff words grunted in Cole's direction by his behemoth of a manager that cut through the din. "Get Pagey..."

Hustling himself along with her & Magnet out the door, Robert did his best to avoid Peter's gaze from then on out. Helping her into her jacket, which was really one of Pagey's more subtle, casual & less spangled boleros, Robert couldn't help but ask. "What was that about, luv?"

"Oh nothing..." She shrugged before thanking him & Magnet for opening her door & helping her into the car respectively. "Thank you. Such gentlemen." The tension Robert felt was broken by a shared giggle between the three before she continued. "I just told Peter I wanted to leave & hit up East LA for awhile before we head back to the Hyatt. He asked if Pagey was coming & I said he disappeared with Bonz for a bit & I couldn't find him. Besides, he was having fun last I knew, so I didn't want to pull him away from him being able to relax."

"I see..." He trotted over to his side of the car, slipping inside himself with Magnet shielding him from view of any lurking groupies as best as he could. "And the motioning to me & the party at hand, luv?"

"Simple." Dahlia explained, punctuating her words with the click of her belt. "I told him to tell Jimmy where I was, that I'd be back soon & not to worry. That not only would Magnet be with me but so would you & that you were leaving to tag along with me too. That you'd be there to protect me as well."

Robert felt a slight quickening of his pulse despite the innocence of it all. The innocence of her explanation. Of the situation. Yet the cloak & dagger feel of it all gave him a little heart flutter & frisson at once. He didn't quite know why. He couldn't quite put a finger on it.

Why was he so unnerved?...

It was his idea, after all...

They weren't doing anything wrong anyway...

It was then that Magnet got onto the road & pulled off. Now Robert knew... There was no turning back...

Though turn back he did...

Robert couldn't help it...

And so it was that as he craved his neck to glance back at the traffic behind him, Robert swore he saw a hint of a familiar tall, willowy, smoking, silver accented, black-haired figure hustling into the back seat of a car that roared to life & took off a few car's length behind them.

Only one word came to mind to describe the situation Robert found himself shoe-horning himself into now & his current state of mind.

"Shit..."

~

Hope you guys enjoy~!

As ever this is forever under construction~!

[steadydizzydreamer]

How I dress to hype myself up after reading a fic where y/n is so cute because she’s shorter than the character while knowing damn well that I’m 6”2

[thepinkwriterr]

Capricorn Season Chapter Thirty-Three

Thank you to everyone who has been following my silly little story for the last few years (or however long I have been at this). We are coming toward the end! There are maybe 25ish more chapters left. I started writing this story after my first bad breakup in high school, and it's just snowballed from there. These characters have been my comfort through college, marriage, and so much more. I really love this story. I am a creative writing major, so I hope the quality has gone up. As long as people are sharing/reading, I will keep writing. I appreciate every comment, like, note, etc, so much. Knowing that people are actually reading makes me so happy! Thank you all for caring about Gwen so much. I do plan on writing a sequel (entitled Aquarius Season) and maybe a third part (Pisces Season). Thank you all! < 3 Also -- please comment to be added to the tag list.

Word Count: 4k Table of Contents

Sex had never meant anything to me. My conquests of the past were fleeting, almost primal in their necessity. I was filled with hunger. I never had good sex, it was bumbling and quick and over when he said it was. 

Sex with women was better, but I didn't do too much exploring past a college girlfriend named Julie. She was terribly concerned with being exposed. My family already wanted nothing to do with me, so I didn't care as much, but her feelings were never quelled. No one wants an anxious lover. 

There was something different about him. He knew where to cast his eyes. His lips found all the light spots on my body--branded me. Sex wasn't just sex with him. It was sacred and sweet. We honored each other.

I couldn't stop my mind from wandering to these memories today. He looked so good. His jeans hugged his hips just right and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his forearm. I think he could tell I was lusting after him because he kept smirking at me. 

What an ass. 

Today had gone relatively smooth. Things were getting back to normal after the whole Tiffany incident. I was grateful for that, too, because it had brought Lorelei and me closer together. Normally I would chastise her endlessly until she caved and realized what she did was wrong. (That's what usually had to happen for people to realize they were wrong). But I felt bad for telling her out of selfishness and anger and she knew what she did was wrong already. This humanity within her was something I began to realize was sparse in this world, especially in this industry. 

On the road people did and said harsh things. An air of drama shrouded everyone. Each moment was drawn out but passed so quickly it could give you whiplash. I didn't know what was up or down, what was left or right, or what anyone truly thought.

I didn't know how Lorelei and the other girls had lasted so long in this scene. The way musicians passed them around like objects to be won and traded was disgusting to me. It was ruining the music for me. I was drained after just three months of it. 

-

I pressed Lorelei yesterday after soundcheck. She wasn't exactly jumping to talk to me. 

I couldn't catch her eyes. She was wrapped up in Robert and all that he was---a liar. I wondered what he had told her to convince her to stay.

Soundcheck went as well as always. The guys went through the motions and played the same songs as they had for the last few months. I was burnt out and sick of it all. The luster of the road and show business had become mundane. 

William was coming down hard. I spent an hour on the phone with him the day before fighting over deadlines. I tried to avoid the group but didn't want to explain the intricacies of their drama to him. He wouldn't have cared much. He was growing fed up with me during this period of growing pains. He thought I was partying or otherwise slacking. 

I wasn't, really. I was quite miserable. 

Jimmy and I didn't talk on the car ride.  I pushed my knees against the side of the car and stared out the window. He wore a sad, sorry look into the venue. 

He wore green corduroys and a sweater to protect himself from the drafty weather. My corduroys. He rarely wore his own clothes these days. I think he'd been gaining weight and mine were more comfortable. Or he was just a cross-dresser. 

His gaze hit the worn stage floor heavy and hard as he took his place behind the guitar stand. I felt bad but had to stand my ground. I couldn't crack first. I was still mad about what he said to me. 

It changed the way I looked at him. He was now someone who could and would deliberately hurt me. He wasn't above bending the truth. I didn't know if I could trust him the same. More walls went up. 

He was still moping. His face was sullen and empty as he plucked G-sharp. I watched his fingers glide down the neck with a finger-picking motion. It was something bluesy. I didn't recognize it.

He looked at me softly with pearlescent eyes. The way only he could do. He could cut right through me. He was coming toward me with even strides. 

"Can I talk to you?" He asked. 

He looked tired up close. There were light bags under his eyes. 

I nodded. 

He pulled me by the arm to a spot that was secluded as it could get here. The lights were dim. Only a little light shone through the windows in the left corner of the cement room. It  was always cold backstage.

We looked at each other, absorbing the odd sight of one another's faces. He was withdrawn from me. His glassy, sunken eyes appeared present but were distant in actuality. I tried to look beyond the pools of murky green. Soft shadow was thrown across the left side of his face from the slivers of sun that poured in. 

"I'm sorry," he finally spoke. His voice pierced the tension between us.  

My lips fell into a grimace.

"You hit a nerve." He continued. 

I was silent still. 

"I was an ass, alright." 

My brow furrowed. Not the right approach. 

"You were right." He spoke through a slight grit. 

I softened then. His words hit the right spot. 

"I was afraid to lose you, my love." 

He knew exactly what to say. He'd practiced this speech a hundred-and-one times. He probably couldn't even remember how many times he'd begged women to forgive him, whether it was a minor or major offense. He probably felt bad for Robert, knowing he'd have hefty hoops to jump through to get Lorelei to forget about what he'd done. 

I started to speak, still holding my heart behind a wall of safeguards, "Do you mean that?" 

"Yes, I really do. I promise you, my love, I am speaking truthfully from the heart." His hands were in mine now. "I thought Robert might try and take you from me." 

He brought my hands to his lips. He knew I was softening. 

"I missed you so much, Darling. I care for you. I don't want to hurt you, ever." He paused between each sentence to press a soft kiss on my cold skin. 

I couldn't deny it. I was beginning to forgive him. 

"But you did." 

He sighed quietly. I noticed a small splinter of annoyance--impatience. "I know. And I feel so awful about it, my love. Would you do me the honors of forgiving me, being seen with me?"

I looked down at our hands. His calloused fingers laced mine like lattice and ivy. It hurt much more to imagine taking my hand from his. 

"Okay," I began reluctantly,"I forgive you." 

He flashed a toothy grin. I knew then that he was going to eat me whole. 

Now, to fix it with Lorelei. 

--

I looked out at the dormant chaos. Just six hours ago Lorelei attacked another person and it was treated like stale bread. The presses had run cold and everyone moved on.

She stood behind Robert with her hands on his shoulders. Bonzo stood alone. Tiffany had seemingly vanished. I wondered what exactly happened. Had she left on her own volition? She didn't seem to be a girl who needed to be told when to go. 

The fight was pretty nasty. Lorelei was scrappy, which impressed me, honestly. I wasn't rooting for the savage take down, but she made quick work of Tiff. 

"Can I talk to you?" Lorelei asked in a hushed tone. 

I looked at Robert. She followed my eyes. He stood next to Jimmy, trying to fiddle with his guitar. A long, stray string popped up from his meddling. Jimmy pawed his hands away with a grimace. 

I had to tell her. 

She pulled me off to the same spot backstage. Her eyes dug into me with an anxious glint. The only witness was chips of gray paint that frayed from the wall that sat between us. 

I had felt the pain of knowing the man you loved was with someone else. I knew the deep throbbing that thudded in her chest. That pain was so bad it could kill you. 

She bit her bottom lip. Her hands went into her mess of curls. 

"I don't even know how this whole mess got started." She started. The rest of her thoughts lingered on her lips, crushed just below her teeth. Her voice echoed even at a whisper.

It had started with my omission. I was consumed by guilt. Carrying the knowledge of Robert's extra-extramarital affair was eating me alive. I was supposed to be Lorelei's friend. Who could you trust if not your best girlfriend? I  wondered if the price of truth was worth the chaos. 

I wondered if she would understand why I had been on edge around Tiffany, why I didn't want to hang out with them. I wondered if she could see the guilt boiling over. 

Her anger started with Robert, who would not keep it for long. We both knew if she brought it to him he would charm his way out of it, and he did. She could never suspend her anger for too long, and it eventually fell into the scantily clad lap of Tiffany.

This was an error of judgment (the first mistake of many). Tiffany had no loyalty or oath to Lorelei. She didn't even know of her, or Robert's wife, when she slept with him. She was just a girl having a good time. 

Lorelei carried envy for Tiffany. She wished to be as carefree and unburdened as her. She was once, a few times, in her shoes. She had fallen foolishly into the shallow end before but always ended up hurt.

I thought of how this all must be playing in her head. The images of Tiffany and Robert writhing and panting swirling around the drain but never swallowed by the pipes. 

"Lor, I told you out of anger, not concern."

"What do you mean?" 

"Jimmy and I had a huge fight. He said he thinks Robert is in love with me. Then he basically called me whore. He was talking crazy and I was burning with anger. I was angry at all of them. We were all keeping a terrible secret. I couldn't take it anymore. It just burst from me." 

She looked more hurt than when I told her about the cheating. 

"So you told me to get back at him?"

"No, no, it wasn't like that. I-"

"You hurt me worse than Robert. You were supposed to be my friend, and you knew this whole time!"

"I'm so, so sorry. I know I'm a shit person and an even worse friend. But you should really be mad at Robert, not me. He's the asshole here." 

It sounded more like a jab the way it came out. 

"Oh, well, if you're sorry that makes it better!" Lorelei turned away from me. She couldn't look at me anymore.

"No, no, I'm sorry. Fuck. I didn't mean it like that. I just meant that he put me in a tough spot. I didn't know what to do so I kept quiet to keep the peace."

"Just- just don't." 

"Lor, please-" 

She whipped around, her mass of hair and skirt flowing in the sharp wind. Her nostrils flared. 

"No, you know what, I'm not shocked that Robert hurt me. He's a muscian, he's the lead singer, for God's sake! But you're supposed to be my best friend. You chose some stupid guy or some stupid anger over me. You hurt me, and that's shitty." She ended with a shake of her head and began to walk away again. 

"Please, wait!" 

Her blazing, heeled steps trailed to the backdoor. She was gone in a moment. The slamming of the door could be heard out on stage. 

My head fell against the wall. 

--

As soon as she stormed off, Jimmy rounded the corner toward me. He had been lurking. I wondered how much he heard. 

"Love, are you alright?" 

His hands found my arms, rubbing them with his stark warmth. 

I melted into him with a sniffle. "Yeah, I'm fine. Let's go back to the stage." 

-

I found myself slipping into serene domesticity with him in the oddest of places. We made homes in shoddy hotel rooms, cooking meals in their tiny kitchenettes and washing each other in the cracker-box bathrooms. Even the icebox that was any backstage room. 

On planes, we would put our trays up and share snacks while we read. He would lay his head on my shoulder and I would play in his hair as the plane took off to settle his anxieties. 

He was a reserved and undemonstrative man but I could read him like a book. His nerves were a shaken jar of hornets. When Peter sent a calloused glance my way, a plane took off, our hotel reservations didn't land, or a show was moved, he was sent into a tailspin. I saw that his fit at Royal Albert wasn't out of the ordinary for him. There have been multiple occasions that I've had to hold him while he shook and sobbed uncontrollably. 

In this way, we were building homes out of each other's arms. He would look at me with panic and know I was there no matter what. I would hold him until he was silenced and sleepy, not leaving his side, even if it lasted hours. And similarly, I knew he was there if I needed him. Some days it was hard to get out of bed or deal with everyone around. Often it seemed sensory perception was physically revolting to me. I would furrow my brow and cover my ears to block out the penetrating sights and sounds. 

There were so many sounds. I couldn't escape it. There was no reprieve. Our hotel room was sandwiched between Bonzo and Robert, who were noisy at all hours of the day. I found that my frustration was exacerbated when deadlines became harsher. Multitasking wore me out more than a day of adventuring.

Jimmy tried his best to help me but he struggled with the same feeling. There were days we couldn't stand each other simply for the sounds of footsteps. It was not about personal feelings, just exertion. We always apologized at the end of the day and kissed, held each other close, and embraced as if it were the first time.

When we weren't fighting we spent our days talking about whatever interested us. We shared details about our charts, what we had learned recently, and what books we were managing to read (it was one of the only things to do on our down time (well, other than sex, of course)). 

He was often submerged himself in research. If he wasn't on stage it was not far-fetched to see him with a book in bed. 

He turned to me now, on the desolate stage, and said,"I've been reading about something called Thelema. Have you heard of it?" 

"No." I answered. He knew I hadn't. His asking was just a formality. 

"It's fascinating, really, I think you would be very interested. It's all about discovering one's True Will, which is essentially your path in life.

I feel that my True Will is music, which I was lucky to discover early in life. It can be very hard to find one's True Will and often requires the deconditioning of socially learned inhibitions.

But I find it fascinating. Magick is versatile. Finding your True Will is made up of all kinds of tiny little actions and decisions. You have to really learn everything there is to know about yourself in order to find it." 

"That does sound fascinating," I poked at his repeated use of the word, "do you think you found your True Will so early because your soul has made many trips to earth? I mean, it would make sense, as you went right to music and haven't really strayed from that path." 

"I suppose. I do have an old soul." He chuckled. 

Anytime I used this flowery language he knew I was making fun of him. 

"I think so too."

"With my penchant for antiquing and love of art, it would make perfect sense." 

I nodded along. 

"What do you think my True Will is?" 

"Well, I don't know. That's a hard question. Most people don't even know their own and I wouldn't want to lead you astray." 

"If you had to guess, what would it be?" 

"I think it could be the pursuit of love and understanding. You are such an open and loving person. Strangers could feel at home in your smile." He pushed his face into my neck. His hot lips brushed my skin. 

I gave a pleasured exhale and pouted my lips. He was so sweet it rotted my teeth.

-

She didn't come back for two hours. She didn't come back until an audible buzz surrounded the building. We had deemed this the "Pre-show hum". A medley of feet to floor, jitters, and voices. Fans were entering the building excitedly.

Jimmy and I had been chatting in the green-room, which had begun to swelter (once everyone got moving and the fans worked overtime to cut through all the bodies it got slick and sweaty fast), but Peter had pulled the group off somewhere. 

I was stuck talking with Richard. He was feeling talkative today. He yammered on about some girl he saw in a pub, then the drive to the hotel, then how he was excited to be in Nashville. I only paid half attention. 

In the midst of his conversational zeal my eyes passed over Lorelei. She caught my gaze but quickly turned away.

Peter's booming voice interrupted our angst. 

"Line up, boys!" He called down the hall. 

The boys lined up for battle. Bonzo strapped a bandanna to his head and stuffed a pair of drumsticks in his back pocket. Jones quietly smoothed his hair down. Jimmy fiddled with his hands, trying to coax them from fists. Robert spoke charmingly with Peter.

The venue lights dimmed. The crowd began to cheer. It sounded like a military barrage. The announcer took his sweet time introducing the band. He warmed up the crowd with a few jokes, but they were impatient. Lorelei went to the side-stage---ready and waiting for Robert. 

"Everyone, give it up for Leeeeed Zeppelin!" The planes finally took off. A wall of sound was heard all the way to the street. I had never heard such fervent, virile noise.

"Let's go, boys!" Peter shouted with a smirk. He practically slapped them on the ass. They marched out to chanting and stomping.

They took their places—Robert at the front, Bonzo at the back, with Jonesy and Jimmy flanked at each side. 

Robert took the microphone from the stand, speaking smooth like butter. "Good evening Fort Worth!" Cacophony. Pandemonium. Insanity. 

The driving march of Immigrant song struck the crowd. Robert's call came out in rough, uneven strides. 

This was going to be the best show of the whole tour. 

-

It began with a gentle strum. Jimmy picked sweet chords with care and ease. The organ crept in like a bright, beautiful sun breaking the horizon line. The smattering of the drums thundered, leveling the melody out. They played together with intensity for only a short moment, an appetizer, before dying down to welcome Robert. His voice was rusty by this point in the night, but it sounded beautiful against the tender canyon of Thank You. The organ took center stage once more, almost outshining Robert. Drums once more. This time Jimmy didn't join in. This song marked the end of the set (not including the encore), and felt like a welcome sunrise.  

Lorelei didn't look at me until the end. The intro had come back in full swing now, this time with a flourishing electric solo. There were tears in her eyes. Only a trace of contempt was left. I didn't know if that was for me or Robert. I hoped for Robert, for both of our sake.

Jimmy and Bonzo played together to create some kind of electricity. We could all feel it in the air. The building was on fire. Robert danced around the stage, just for a moment, before finishing out his part. He cried out, gripping the microphone tightly. 

"Happiness, I'm glad." He sang. 

Then the chorus came back. It was tender again. Robert bumbled around the stage, jazz-scatting, while Jonesy carried the tune off with his expertise on the keys. 

Robert ended with one last emboldened yelp. 

Applause. 

-

I met Lorelei again in the bathroom. The band was going for their first encore song. It was something like Train Kept A-Rollin. 

She was smoking a joint. She sat on the counter with her feet in the sink. She wore wooden wedges and thick bellbottoms. It would've been too hot if she weren't wearing that purple tube top. 

I wasn't surprised to see her when I opened the door. When she sauntered off stage, wiping her eyes, I figured I would find her here. I just brushed past her and went to the stall. I could hear the rolling paper burn with her sharp inhale. The smell was thick in the dead air. 

I looked down at my feet as I peed. My toes were painted dark red. Chipped, of course. She did them two weeks ago. The paint survived through two beach trips and sweaty airport sneakers. 

Face-to-face again, she was sweeter. She rolled her eyes when I froze. 

"We're cool." She said with a wave of her joint. 

I laughed with a huff. 

She held the joint out toward me. The opening riff of Whole Lotta Love began. 

"Good," I took the joint from her and leaned my back against the counter, "I missed you." 

"I did too." 

We sat quietly, listening Robert's manic panting and moaning. He was like a cat in heat. We started to laugh. 

They launched into We're Gonna Groove, one of my favorites. I tapped my foot along with the tempo. Jimmy was laying down some great work tonight. 

"I'm going to stay with him." She broke the silence. 

"You are?" I turned to face her.  "Yeah."  I held my tongue. If I said anything negative that would only drive her further into his arms. 

"If that's what you want I support you." She looked grateful. She grinned and nodded her head, wearing that award-winning actress smile. 

"Thank you."

----

Taglist:

@anothercanyonlady​ , @jonesyjonesyjonesy​   @paginate54 , @seventieswhore , @jimmypages , @jimmys-zeppelin​ , @jimmysdragonsuit13 , @sinceivebeenlovingyoou , @akyras-azriel , @lzep , @litvrgi , @laluxea

[callmethehunter]

Look what I found in my archive! 🔥

“ It became clear to her that Led Zeppelin was not your average rock band, and Robert Plant was not your average front man.  He was also a talented blues singer who had exquisite command of his vocal range and used his entire body to interpret the song.  

She couldn’t think of any other male singer who used his hands so provocatively. They were big hands, masculine, yet his gestures were so delicate.

 It made her pay close attention to the rest of his body. His bare chest.  His long arms and legs.  His cock.

 “That’s a huge fucking cock,” she thought

“and it’s magnified on a 50-foot movie screen.” She tightened her grip on the armrest and tried to focus on the music but it wasn’t easy because the film director was clearly so enamored with his star, that he made sure to photograph his stunning visage in the best light and get plenty of close-ups of his dick.  But Robert Plant was more than just a pretty face and body.  He could truly sing, and he understood how to convey a song no matter the genre and that was thrilling to the hard-core musician in her”. - A Rock & Roll Affair

I absolutely had to illustrate this excerpt from Ch 1 of

“A Rock & Roll Affair” by @waywaydowninside 👏🙌

[stevenssticks]

Welcome to my blog!!!

hello y’all! you can call me P. i’m new to the metal and grunge scene online but have been a fan for a long time! i’m here to make some friends and read and write fanfiction.

I’m not really interested in writing full stories right now but blurbs are cool!!! I’m warming up to this

REQUESTS ARE CURRENTLY OPEN.

🚨🚨i am starting college on Aug 30th!!!! i will not be as active from then on🚨🚨

please see more below abt what i will and will not write.

Who I like:

Steven Adler!!!!!!!! (MY NUMBER ONE MAN), Jason Newsted!!!, Cliff Burton!!!, James Hetfield, Izzy Stradlin, Slash, Kirk Hammett, Dave Mustaine!!!!, Duff Mckagan, Zakk Wylde, Chris Cornell, Eddie Vedder, Layne Staley, Jerry Cantrell, Mike Starr, Nick Menza, Jonathan Davis, Robert Plant, Steve Vai, Dimebag Darrell

What I WILL NOT WRITE

christmas fics, kid fics, pregnancy, x male reader (sorry guys im afab and don’t feel like i would be able to write it well), whips/chains, public sex (no i’m not talking abt some teasing under the table at dinner that’s fine), cnc (consent non consent), ddlg, blood/knives, watersports god no i’m sorry, scat, just a lot of stuff that might be seen as “extreme”

if consent is dubious i will always note ahead of time that both people are willing participants.

[lil-melody-moon]

Melody, my dear? Tell us 10 songs that remind you of 10 different people in your life 🤍

10 songs that remind me of 10 different people... I hope you don't mean people I know personally, because I will mention someone I don't know, dear Anon <3

Love Ain't for Keeping by The Who - I hear it and I think of Keith Moon right away. Could be because that was the song that made me listen to The Who or it might be because of the lyrics that I associate with my feelings to him or maybe both, it's hard to tell.

Total Eclipse of The Heart by Bonnie Tyler - I associate this one with my mom. She's a big fan of Bonnie, heck we both are, but this is the first song I heard by Bonnie and the first song that mom played for me when I was tiny. So that's my mom's song <3

Tea For One by Led Zeppelin - dad's favorite, he goes bonkers when he hears it, as in the volume goes up and there's no way somebody will turn it lower. Also the first song by Led Zeppelin dad wanted to show me and he kind of did. I just wasn't swayed by it until I grew up enough to let this masterpiece carry me with its notes.

Hysteria by Def Leppard - song I associate with @jimmysdragonsuit13 She brought me into Def Leppard and this one just makes me think of her each time I hear it. I love this song btw, but shhh...

Hey Joe by Jimi Hendrix or any other song by him - makes me think of Anja. She loved Jimi to death, actually the last fic that I wrote for her was with him, she loved it a lot. One big happiness for her in the last few weeks <3

Lazy by Deep Purple - this is @fiammee song. Whenever I hear Jon Lord playing I think of her and her amazing drawings I've seen published here. She's really talented, go check her blog out!

Tangerine by Led Zeppelin - I associate this with @groovyysav Not only for her deep love to Robert Plant, but the vibe of it I somehow associate with the vibe she gives. Country peacefulness with a lot of love and yapping <3

Boris The Spider by The Who - this is a stupid association, but our friendship is stupid as well, so @juliearchery107 that's the song that makes me think of you because of your arachnophobia XD

Love Never Dies by Julian Lennon or any other song by him - @peaceloveandstarrs is such a big fan of him that it's difficult for me to not think about her when I hear his songs.

Girl's Eyes by The Who - and maybe that's a bit not by the rules of the ask, but I can't help it. This song hit me like a train when I heard it and so, this is the me song, as in, I think about myself when I hear it. Simple lyrics, nothing too big of a song for this band, but I've never felt so called out by a song. So it gets a spot here <3

[callmethehunter]

Please add me to your tags!! Looking forward to the continuation!! 👏🏽👏🏽

Little Wayward Girl **TEASER**

Let me know your initial thoughts! I'm hoping to get this out soon, but thought I'd give you a little taste :)

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.

@firethatgrewsolow @brownskinsugarplum76 @m-faithfull @chromations ummm idk who else to tag. Let me know if you want to be added into my tag list. Perhaps tag someone who might enjoy this? Idk here you go, I’ll shut up now 🥲

[houseofbabygirls]

Take my breath away

Bob gave you a reason to come home.

Robert “Bob” Floyd x GN!reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Starts with angst and has some angsty themes throughout, Talks of death, graphic depiction of wounds, blood, swearing, This one actually ends in fluff!! (I promise)

A/N: I am a Bob fan first and person second. This is obviously named after the Berlin song, but not really based after it. I just thought the two were cute together and this song means something to the story. I promise that one of these days my fics will be a full fluff piece but I can’t help but make shit sad. Also full disclaimer i don’t really know how the navy works, this is purely a work of fiction.

In the Military there was always the risk of not coming home. Not being able to see your family again or grow old with your partner. It was something every soldier knew before they joined. Anything you do after that, is done with the knowledge that it could be temporary. And when Bob met you and chose to fall in love with you he knew that all too well. There was double the risk, both you and Bob were Naval aviators. Both part of the best of the best, you met on the Uranium plant mission and you had the habit of flirting with the WSO. Enjoying the sight of his flushed cheeks and timid reactions. He was constantly nervous around you and you found it endearing. 

His shyness was something you weren’t used to as a pilot, usually seeing more men like Hangman. Best friend or not Jake could be quite the narcissist, using his status as an excuse. Bob on the other hand was sweet and didn’t feel the need to woo you with his stories, he liked hearing you talk and he actually listened. He remembered everything you said and something about his kind heartedness turned you on. You hadn’t figured out he felt the same until after the mission. You had saved his and Phoenix’s lives’ on the way out of Coffin Corner and once everyone had touched down back on base. You ran right to him and pulled him into the most emotional kiss you’ve ever had. He returned eagerly and from then on it was you and Bob. 

After the Uranium plant you had been given an assignment in Miramar as a team and that meant that the dagger squad was to be together for a little while longer. It was almost a year of peace before you were called into a different mission, it was you Fritz, Halo and Omaha. The four of you had been chosen for a confidential mission on the other side of the world, meaning you wouldn’t see Bob for over half a year. Maybe more depending on how fast you got the mission done. It killed you to leave him after narrowly escaping death together but you were an Aviator long before you were a partner and you knew this was going to happen at one point or another. 

The goodbyes were lengthy and tearfilled. Hugging all of your friends as though it would be the last time you were able. You spent the last few minutes in Bob’s arms, not speaking, just basking in each other's presence for a moment longer. When you were called for boarding you kissed the breath out of the blonde WSO and joined your teammates on the ship. Not daring to look back at him, fearing that the emotions would flood out of you like a river. You lifted your head up to meet Halo’s gentle smile and you smiled back, you were in good hands. It was going to be okay, you were going to see Bob again, you were going to be with your family before you knew it.

The last thing you remembered when you woke up was shouting. The shrill sounds of  Halo’s voice and the baritones of Fritz and Halo. You remembered how hot it had been and then that terrible smell of burnt oil and then that explosion. You had vaguely remembered pulling your ejection handle and after that it was just a mystery. A blur of heat and loud noises, and the harsh whipping of the wind. 

You groaned softly in confusion when you came to your senses, your face was flush with the ground, you assumed your helmet took the brunt of the damage but you couldn't help but feel a burning pain in your face. You flipped over using the momentum you gained to toss yourself onto your back. You used your leg to help only to feel a searing pain in your thigh. You tried to look down but the Helmet constricted your line of sight. You reached up slowly to the helmet and let out a hoarse cry when you felt the visor had broken, the plastic had wedged its way into your face, making it difficult to move the right side, not even able to move your mouth to react.

You carefully move to unclasp it and toss it off of your head. Your breathing became louder as you took in the chill air.  The feel of the snow on your face tingling the wound and the warm liquid coming out of it. You pushed yourself up into a sitting position, gaining the courage to look down to inspect the damage. Your left thigh was torn up, a mangle of flesh and blood. It was burning hot against the blistering cold and you felt your stomach turn at the smell.

You felt your body for more damage and stopped at your left arm where you felt something sharp coming out of your bicep. You winced in pain as you grazed over the hard object and when you did you felt as if you split your face in two. Your eyes filled with tears at the movement and you tugged off your glove to properly feel the right side of your face. A shiver came over you at the touch and you sobbed as you tried to take in your surroundings. 

You’d never felt so overwhelmed, so out of it before and you could barely calm yourself down before you took a look around you. Nothing was familiar, it was snowy and there were buildings a ways away from where you crashed. The smell of fuel was pungent in your nose as you turned slowly to look at the F-18 behind you, that was now just scrap metal. An unidentifiable hunk of an aircraft. You took a deep breath before trying to push yourself off the ground. Making a point to avoid using the right side of your body as you stood up. You whipped around to see if you could spot anything else, but nothing seemed to be salvageable. You ground your teeth together as you leaned over to grab your helmet, lifting it to notice something glaring up at you. You picked it up and almost broke down when you saw the photo you kept of Bob in your chest pocket looking back at you. 

The photo seemed to mock you as you looked at it. The smile he held was so genuine and so happy that it made you cry. You hadn’t seen him in over half a year. The last time you called was well over 2 weeks ago, and now you regretted not making more time for him. You were sure you were gonna die, whether it be by bleeding out or a bullet to the head by enemy soldiers you didn’t know but you had a gut feeling you weren’t gonna make it back. 

You thought of your team and your stomach dropped, you had protected them. Got striked down in an attempt to send them home. You didn’t care if you died as long as they got to go home and see their families. As long as Omaha got to see his daughter again and Halo got to see her girlfriend. You wanted them to make it, you were the mission leader, your job above all else was to send them home, and as long as you did that you didn’t mind going out. 

It was an unfair thought, you knew that Bob was waiting for you. That he’d be destroyed if you didn’t make it home but that was the job. Your number one priority was the Navy and you were doing your job here. Your team had completed their job, you kept the US safe another day, and now you could rest. You dropped to the ground again and felt your eyes blur with tears as you stared up at the sky, the blinding white of winter made it almost peaceful. Your eyes fluttered closed and you held that photo of Bob close to your chest as you let sleep take over.

Bob didn’t know why he was so anxious, he was used to the loneliness this job entailed. Those long stretches of time he had to go without seeing his family. But he supposed it was different now, he had you. Someone he wanted to see everyday, and spend all of his time with. And being deprived of that was something he found to be awful. He had barely spoken to you in the last 6 months and when he did you could only speak for so long and it was so vague as to not give anything away. It felt like he was deprived of his sunlight. 

But he had to continue on like he wasn’t missing a part of himself. Still going to work everyday, commanding hot shot pilots and dealing with their shitty attitudes. The only reprieve he got was when he was with the dagger squad at the Hard Deck. It was his safe place, the one place he could let loose and forget his aching heart for a moment. Sometimes it worked but most of the time it turned out to be pointless, he could only think about you and the many nights you two had spent there, huddled in a booth giggling in secrecy. Hidden from the world and the shit you had to deal with.

Phoenix had been a saint through this, Bob felt ridiculous being this affected by your absence but Natasha understood and didn’t judge him for it. Surprisingly Hangman didn’t either. The blonde was your best friend and he was struggling not having his number one with him for the last few months. 

The three had found solace in each other, a weird unspoken bond that was created from your absence. Bob was thankful to have them, during the day it was easy to forget that you were off somewhere doing god knows what. But when he arrived home or to the Hard Deck after a long day, he couldn't help but let his mind float to you. He just wanted to know if you were okay. If you were alive was really the question. You didn’t have any family left to tell so Bob would most likely be the first to know of your passing. He shuddered at the thought and took another heavy swig of his beer. Hangman and Phoenix slid into the seats next to him and he smiled in acknowledgment before that emotionless look returned to his face.

“Hey, Champ.” Jake said, patting him harshly on the shoulder. 

Natasha rolled her eyes and snorted at his approach.

“Ignore him, I do.” She said and paused for a moment. “You’ve been really quiet tonight, more than normal. I don’t like when that happens.”

His eyes flick up to meet her concerned gaze and he sighed in frustration at the tears that burned his eyes.

“I can’t stop thinking about Y/n. I haven’t heard from them in weeks, Nat. That’s not like them.” His voice broke and Nat took a deep breath and smiled empathetically. 

“They’re tough, Bob. I mean one of the toughest damn Pilots I know. They’re probably fighting tooth and nail to get home at this moment. If I know one thing about Y/n it’s that they don’t give up. They’re coming home, Bob. I promise.” She said and Bob nodded, sniffling a little and giving her an appreciative smile. 

“Thanks, Nat.” He said. Hangman clapped his hand down once more and Bob looked over to him.

“Now come join the party, Bob. Y/n would hate to know that you were drinking alone.” He said with a smirk. 

Bob chuckled as he stood up from his seat, finding a newer one at the table where Rooster, Fanboy, Payback and Coyote were talking. The dagger squad fell into an easy conversation. The WSO felt content in that moment. He had a family and he knew all of them missed you almost as much as he did. He figured he could let himself forget for a while and enjoy the people he had around him. But as the conversation went on there was an overwhelming feeling of silence that made its way into the conversation. The pilots all sat around for a moment before Rooster cleared his throat,

“It’s weird without Y/n here.” He said and all the pilots murmured in agreement. It was quiet for a moment before he continued.

“ I never thought I would say this but I miss how loud they were.” 

Everyone laughed and shook their heads.

“Yeah and breakfasts at their place every Sunday. I don’t know if I miss them or their Pancakes more.” Coyote said. 

“This is gonna sound insane but I miss their unnatural love for Take my Breath Away.” Hangman said, “I mean god they sang it everywhere. In the shower, over comms on a lesson, it was always playing on their radio when you got into their car. The damn song used to annoy the shit out of me. But I haven’t heard it in over 6 months and I actually miss that fucking song.” He admitted with a chuckle of disbelief. 

Everyone laughed out loud at the statement.

“God, that damn song. I’m pretty they sang it in their sleep.” Bob joked and everyone smiled at the blonde. “They are something else, Man.” Payback said fondly and they all shared a chuckle. 

“It’s not the same here without them. I mean not really. It feels like something is missing when they’re gone.” Phoenix said and everyone fell silent. 

The silence was short lived as the smooth melody of “Take my Breath Away” filled the bar. They all looked at each other in shock and then burst out laughing at the irony.

“God, it’s like they can hear us.” Hangman said through his laughter.

Bob’s eyes were already on the jukebox and he thought he saw you standing there. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned back to the table, shaking his head and cursing at himself.

He turned back again, keeping his eyes on the floor as he timidly looked again. His eyes moved slowly upwards and widened when you were still standing there. A bouquet of red roses in your right hand. He stood up, the wooden chair screeching against the floor as he moved quickly to you. The dagger team watched in confusion as he pushed through the crowd, all of them standing to see where he was going.

He pushed through the crowded bar and stopped when he was right in front of you. He was scared that he was going crazy. Scared that if he touched you, you would vanish in front of his eyes.

“Hey, Robby.” You said and Bob felt his chest tighten and tears fell out of his eyes. 

He took you in for a moment. A sling holding up your left arm, and obvious bandages under your pants. But when he reached your face, that gorgeous face he had waited ages to see, his heart shattered. There was a large wound going down the span of your face and a patch placed carefully over your right eye. You looked different, but to Bob you were still as beautiful as the day you left. His lips quivered and his eyes were pouring tears as he walked closer to you. He gently placed his hand on the unharmed side of your face, trying to convince himself that you were real and this was really happening. 

It felt a dream, the kind that Bob kept having while you were away. They were the kind that made him smile in his sleep, feeling at peace until he woke up and realized you were still gone. Except this time he could feel the heat of your skin under his fingertips and your breath against his palm. He smiled when he realized that this was real, that it was really happening. His smile was mirrored by your own and he realized that he hadn’t spoken the entire time. Too stunned by your presence to speak.

“I can’t believe you’re here.”

“You best believe I fought my way back to you, baby. I couldn’t leave my best boy to fend against Jake alone.” 

His cheeks flushed at your choice of words, that cute pink tint returning to his cheeks just like the last time you saw him. He tilted his head down to avoid your lovingly gaze and he caught sight of the flowers in your hand. He grinned and looked up at you.

“Are those for me?” He chuckled and gestured to the bouquet in your hand. A mischievous smile creeped onto your face and you held them up to him.

“Well I couldn’t come back empty handed, now could I?” You said and he laughed as he took them from you.

“God how did I ever go so long without you.” 

“I ask myself that question everyday. I missed you so much, Robby.” 

His face flushed darker and his brain couldn’t come up with a response to offset the thumping of his heart. So he opted for the second and more desperate option. He tossed the flowers onto the table beside him and pulled you in by the waist, he was a millimeter from your lips before he pulled back.

“Oh Baby, your lips.” He said and carefully trailed his thumb down the healing wound.

“Oh for the love of god, Robby just kiss me already.” You said and he wasted no time. 

His lips softly collided with yours as you melted into him, feeling safe for the first time in Months. The passion was short lived as you heard cheering from across the bar. You pulled away from Bob to see the group of pilots with shit eating grins on their faces. You rolled your eyes and pulled Bob back in, flipping them off behind his back. You pulled back from him and laughed, kissing every inch of his face.

“I guess we should go over there.” You said, looking at the awaiting group of Pilots in the corner.

“Do we have to? I kind of want to have you to myself.” He said and pulled you closer to him.

You pushed him away playfully as you made your way to the Dagger squad. Jake pushed himself to the front of them and pulled you into a bear hug. You laughed as he sniffled back tears, telling you how happy he was to see you. You hugged him back, squeezing just as hard with your arm. He let you go and  took a good look at you when you pulled back. He smiled, a certain sadness caught in the shine of his eyes but he smiled nonetheless. He tapped your face lightly and chuckled.

“You look like a badass now. Cooler than any pilot I know.” He said and you laughed. Grabbing his hand and squeezing it in a silent ‘thank you’.  Before you could react you were pulled into another hug, followed by another until you had gotten through everyone. Not one person squeezes you less than Jake. Almost as if they were making up for lost time. Telling you that they missed you just as much as you missed them. 

A content smile crossed your face as you found a seat, being ushered to sit down while everyone else ordered for you. You let out a deep breath and felt your shoulders relax for the first time since you left. You stared at your friends who were crowding Penny at the bar, then to Fritz, Omaha and Halo who had made their way into the Hard Deck. A nod was sent your way, one of understanding and acknowledgment. You saluted them back and watched as they mingled with their friends and loved ones. You were stuck in thought till a hand came to rest on your shoulder, you looked up to see Bob taking a seat next to you, his hand moving to rest on your thigh. 

“You okay, honey? We can go home if this is too much.” He said, that concerned lilt back in his voice.

“No.” You shook your head, then grabbed his hand and placed a kiss on the back of it. 

“I’m good right here. Besides I would never hear the end of it from Jake if I left him so soon.”

“You sure?”  

“Yeah, Robby. I’m good. As long as you stay right here.” 

“I couldn’t think of any place I’d rather be, baby.” He said and placed a soft kiss on the side of your head.

You leaned in to him, placing a kiss to his shoulder before laying your head on it. You laced your fingers together and sighed in content. This is where you were supposed to be, with Bob and your family. You’d turn in all your medals and patches to stay here forever. Cut those wings off at the base of your spine if it meant that you could hold Bob’s hand forever, kiss his lips forever. You’d give it all up if it meant you could feel this happy forever. But you knew that no matter how far away you were, or how long you were gone. This was always waiting for you, and that made it all seem worth it. Every last scratch and bruise seemed like a reasonable price to pay to feel this happy, this content. You’d let it run you dry if you could guarantee it would be like this forever. 

“You okay, Y/n?” Bob’s voice dragged you out of your thoughts. Bringing you back into the moment, a sincere smile played on your lips as you cleared your throat.

“I am good, Bob. I’m very good.” You teased, he smiled and pecked your lips.

“Ok, enough with all that lovey-dovey horse shit!” Rooster yelled as they all walked back to the table. 

He placed a beer down in front of you and you swatted his head playfully, he feigned an offended gasp and you rolled your eyes. 

“I just got back, Roo. I thought I’d get at least a little reprieve from the dumb shit you say.” You said and Rooster broke into a shit eating grin.

“It’s good to have you back, Y/n.” He said warmly.

“It’s good to be back, Roo. It’s really good.”

[theology101]

My Works Master File

Howdy! I do a lot of stuff across a lot of different platforms, so I figured that I should maybe collect some of them. I'm only including active or completed works in this - I do not have the best history of follow up lmao

ASOIAF

She-Wolf of the Rock: My first ever fic and... you can tell. It's also my most kudos story... we make do. It's dogshit and a fetish story before I understood that it was. But I'm still proud of it

Tentacle Porn, but the Tentacle is a Metaphor: Female Theon Greyjoy gets silly drunk and seduces Jon Snow

A Quiet Conversation: The recently married younger son of the King Rhaegar Targaryen, first of his name, has come back from war. And not only that, he's gotten married and has a baby! Modern AU where Jon decides he and Joffrey need to have a chat

The Daughters of Tytos Lannister: Tytos' children are genderswapped. Tya is Tywin, Tyene is Tygett, Kyrene is Kevan, Gerion is Abigael and Genna is Gerold. Female Tywin is just as brutal - but in a different sort of way

Who would win in a fight, Robert Baratheon or the Mountain? My first major Quora answer and also a respect Robert Baratheon thread. Plus, I figured people might want some more info on medieval weapons

Will George R.R. Martin's Winds of Winter be different than the television series? Will he change the outcome or events or keep things the same? This is for those who are familiar with the show but don't know that much about the books. This thread is my explanation of a few differences.

Cannibal, the Cradle Egg of Maegor the Cruel, is alive on Skagos and will bond with Jon Snow: A theory I think I actually came up with? I've always thought Cannibal on Skagos could be the 'Waking Dragon from Stone.' Idk, I first posted this on quora years ago but this reddit link is the most clear

Unnatural Histories: A book-accurate Spreadsheet of all Dragons in ASOIAF sorted by either age, size, or political affiliation.

Baldur's Gate:

A Plant on the Road to Baldur's Gate: Halsin and Jaheria find some weed. Lae'zel, who has never been high before, get's overconfident. Shadowheart metls. (3/3)

Saved (Against her wyll): Wyll/Minthara starting in act 2. He learns that she's brainwashed and feels morally obligated to save her - only to then find out she was always like that, just her allegiance changed. (2/3)

Mommy? Sorry: Tavomir of Fort Morninglord's mother comes to visit the camp. But... she didn't know Tav would be there. The rest of the camp reacts to his mother, specifically Wyll and Karlach

Star Wars:

Two There Must Be: Anakin/Vader's spirit, immediately after Endor, is teleported back over fifty years to be reborn as his own older sibling. Or should I say, her own because she's in a female body. Started as silly goofy, but now I'm really into the politics of the Prequel era

Title of Jen'ari: AU of 2tmb, set a thousand years before Yavin on the planet Dromuund Kaas. Has minor spoilers for 2tmb (read until chapter 13) but is largely independent of anything. Anakin and Ava are siblings and they're Sith attending an Election on Dromuund Kaas

Fan Map of Dathomir: Legends and Canon have two wildly different depections of Dathomir. My solution? It's just different continents lmao. I consider the Nightsisters to actually just be a collection of other clans under the authority of one Overclan and it's Matron - that being Talzin. The Language is butchered Slavic but such is life.

Misc:

Nieces and Nephews: Sabrina Spellman is prepared to face down the Dark Lord... only for a sarcastic, British asshole to walk into Dorian's. He flashes his detective badge, and claims to be Lucifer Morningstar, who came from LA to deal with an impostor. And oops, Sabrina is his daughter!

Conductive Materials: Female Toni Stark and Thor bond over the fact that position's of power can often limit their personal connections. And then they bond over not having a power dynamic over each other.

No One Escapes Cidhna Mine: My first attempt to chronicle my elder scrolls character. It was fine, I guess, I'm not too crazy about it and would definitely change a few things about it now. My Dragonborn (or the one I consider to be my 'main') is a Half Nord Half Reachman intent on reaching godhood through artifacts and political schemes.

[theoriginaleppieblack-blog]

Took the lads out into the stone circle in the museum’s garden for more pictures with the 1970 Barbie camper. Look at those mugs. If you aren't familiar with my dolls they are from Mattel's Creatable World line and their given names are Alex (he/him, left) and Tris (he/him, right).

The names Alex and Tris have a storied history as fanfiction code for Robert Plant and Jimmy Page of Led Zeppelin.

Right down to business. The guitar is the first thing I've ever 3D printed. I did it at my local library, for free!

below: This is sort of the shot that I designed the interior remodel of the Barbie camper around - Alex laying on the futon with his hair fanning out like that.

This one is for the Zep heads (well, all of this is for the Zep heads but this one is special). You guys (gn) know what photo I was thinking of when I posed this).

Although she's no Starship the 1970 Barbie Country Camper is a fine vehicle. I have a lot more photos from this session on my ipad and I even have a stop motion sequence to edit. So stay tuned for more.

After all the props were ready but before I got good weather for taking pictures in the garden, I read an amazing Led Zeppelin fic on AO3 that may have influenced this photoshoot. It's The Road So Far by sodium_amytal, a beautiful Led Zeppelin AU.

[untilthenextencore]

Nights To Remember Ch 2.: Flashes & Flickers: Light & Shade~...

~

~

In the car, Robert saw a transformation occur in Dahlia. A fire lit in her eyes. Her body grew tight. Expectant. As his was too, albeit for a completely different reason.

As a familiar DJ howled over the radio, she called out. "Mag, mind changing the channel? I love Wolfman, but I'm in the mood for something else. Try KRLA or something."

"Mag" or Magnet obliged. He turned the dial as he turned the corner.

A voice crooned from over ten years ago.

"Those Oldies But Goodies remind me of you~..."

He knew who it was.

Knew what she wanted.

Magnet knew too, hence his turning the dial in just the right direction.

Art Laboe.

Dahlia proved them both right as she recognized the station instantly.

"Yesssss…" Dahlia hissed.

Magnet flicked an amused grin back at her through the rear view mirror.

Robert's eyes were drawn to her too. In full. Closely watching. He saw her toes curl. Her fingers tightening over her small clutch purse & book. Fingers tightening. Toes tightening. Body tightening. Anxious. Expectant. Excited.

Was this how girls were like in making their way to their concerts?

Perhaps.

He saw an aura grow around her. Bated breath & something swirling about her in the smoky haze in the car. Cracks in the veneer. Little glimmers of light peeking through from within.

She was coming alive.

Or about to.

Memories of her dancing & carrying on with her friends at the Chuco flash through his head. Drinks & dancing.

Robert dancing with dusky maidens under the stars. Making him feel home sweet home. Little Mexican Maureen facsimiles. More Indian beauties. More weaknesses. More indiscretions. More things to apologize to the actual, original, one & only true Maureen to.

Robert danced with her too. Dahlia. Bopping around to the rock'n'roll songs they grew up & cut their teeth on. Robert even managed to snag a few slow dances with her. Under the same stars & streetlights.

Until Jimmy appeared out of the ether seemingly. Sidling up to them & spiriting his girlfriend and then fiancee away & into his own arms. Slowdancing with her himself under the stars & streetlights. The flashes of lights both from that & the headlights & taillights of the classic cars that surrounded them all bathed them in a flickering warm glow that matched the warm glow that seemed to emanate from the couple themselves.

Just as Jimmy would want & the only way he'd have it.

Light and shade.

That memory sent him rocketing back to the present. The present that had him beside Dahlia in the backseat as she went from allowing her body to flit from two extremes in her response to the best Art Laboe could play; melting at ballads to winding back up at the rocking tracks as they played. All the while, that same sharp, inscrutable look remained in her eyes. Deep brown depths alight with more than the passing flicker of a streetlight. All as they were similarly surrounded by a tight phalanx of headlights & taillights.

That last bit quirked the corners of his mouth & would've made him laugh had he not been otherwise occupied.

No, instead as Dahlia's head craned back & let yet another sweet ballad from yesteryear wash over her, Robert's head craned back, peering myopically into the following headlights & trying to make out any familiar faces amongst the blinding beams.

No luck.

He thought he saw a familiar town car. Perhaps even a familiar curly black head. But would he ride in the front seat? Was he just seeing things? He didn't know.

All he knew was that as ever, a half an hour or so alone with the lovely young Miss Dahlia was never enough for him. But now he found it stood true for a whole different reason entirely.

As Magnet gunned the engine along with the twanging guitar of Chuck Berry's "Johnny B. Goode" Robert's stomach clenched to match his fist. Twanging guitar. Mentions of someone who could "play guitar like ringing a bell". He knew someone like that. Someone who was hot on their tail. Whose smoky dragon breath curled hot on the back of his neck, tickling the golden curls there.

Magnet's driving chugged the car along like the train alluded to in the lyrics. Robert was the conductor. Or at least he had been. The chain of cigarettes he took down produced the smoke.

Dahlia's fingers on her right hand stayed "strumming with the rhythm that the drivers made". Her left hand shifted over Robert's. Clearly, she sensed his nerves. Even if she didn't understand them or why he was in their clutches. He just was. She wanted to help. That was that. Even if he didn't want to talk. Wasn't ready to talk. She was there for him as a friend. That was all that mattered.

The contact elicited two reactions in him at once. It both soothed his soul. And inflamed him. In a way she seemingly had no idea. To paraphrase Harold Melvin & the Blue Notes, the very song that was playing then as she did that; "If she didn't know by now, she'd never, ever know."

She didn't know.

But he did.

Magnet did.

Peter did.

Virtually everyone else did.

Especially a special someone.

One whose stately diamond ring glinted in the flickering light as it circled her left hand's delicate third finger. One whose slim delicate fingers paired with his massive fucking hands in strumming with the rhythm that the drivers in his head made, playing his guitar like ringing a bell, like a fuckin' menace.

The PreRaphaelitic faced, star-suited dragon lord himself.

Paganini with a pick.

James Patrick Page.

The one Robert remained keenly aware of as he verily sensed the town car trailing them mimicking each twist & turn his "getaway man" Magnet made behind the wheel. Johnny B. Goode himself. Hot on the trail of a "country boy" who - despite his best impulses - always seemed to telegraph his wants & needs to be a little bad. Impish. Impulsive. Impetuous.

Peck's bad boy.

Plant's bad boy. Anthony Plant's bad boy. With Page's good girl. His best girl. His wife. His fuckin wife!

And though he never did anything really. Though never crossed the line. Never behaved untoward with Dahlia. Page knew.

Page knew.

He knew.

He knew Planty.

He knew Plant's tastes in women. Hell, he knew Planty's fuckin' wife! He knew Dahlia fit right in line with Planty's tastes. How sometimes the only thing saving some stupid journalists from telling Mrs. Page from Mrs. Plant was that Dahlia was just a few inches taller.

He knew Robert. He knew how he took to loneliness. He knew how it was on the road & how easy it was for Robert to go looking for company. How easy it was for his eyes to go astray.

And how easy he found it & how often it was that Robert's eyes found themselves straying to her. Straying on her. Her face, her eyes, her curves, her entire figure, her hair, her smile, her whole self, her entire being.

He saw. Even when Dahlia didn't.

He saw how he looked at her. How often he looked at her. The way he looked at her. He knew that look. He'd seen Robert give it to other women before. Women he intended to take to bed.

Jimmy had given girls that look before himself. He'd had similar results. But that was before Dahlia. Before he gave it to Dahlia. And after a slow seduction, months of letters & calls & a pen pal friendship that blossomed in between her on and off relationship with Jim Morrison, that he found himself the first to take Dahlia to bed. Not just any bed either. His bed. When she visited England in the spring of '67 & stayed in his then new house. Pangbourne.

Prize won.

But he found there was no moving on from that point. She was in his blood. One taste. And that's all it took. She was his. No matter what. Even if it took a while sealing the deal. No matter. He'd do whatever it took to ensure that. The deal was done.

Robert knew the whole story of course.

He also knew that it was Jimmy's knowing that look, and knowing those results, first hand no less, that only made it so Jimmy did his damndest to ensure that only he could get such a result when giving Dahlia that look. Not anyone else. And certainly NOT Robert.

And as Robert registered another pat of his hand by Dahlia, he smiled. Both from the tenderness shown. Classic Dahlia as ever. And for how succinctly Eric Burdon was then summing up the many things that had been whirling about his mind then, in yet another old song from years past.

"Well, don't you know that no-one alive…

Can always be an angel…

When things go wrong I seem to be bad…

I'm just a soul who's intentions are good…

Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood…"

The situation found itself more succinctly - if vaguely - summed up when Magnet slowed the car to a stop & parked, announcing. "We're here." Then "Mag" jerked the handle shortly, opening the door wide and supplanting the last strains of Eric Burdon & the Animals with a slow, slinky bluesy intro.

Dahlia instantly perked up, recognizing the sound & crooning. "Ohhh! I love that song. C'mon Robert, let's go!" And with a series of clicks, the unclicking of her belt, opening of her door by Magnet & the hurried clicks of her heels towards the music as it swelled, she was gone.

Robert was left to finish his last cig, brooding, contemplating, mulling over Big Jay McNeely voice as it drawled out the first line. The words teasing him in their seeming concise reading of him upon arrival.

"There is something on your mind~..."

~

As ever, this is forever under construction~...

Hope y'all enjoy~!...

[littlewalken]

aug 22

The song Sally Simpson from Tommy by The Who hits differently if you're a woman.

It also hits differently when Pete sings it for the movie soundtrack and you find you put the original album version that Roger sings on your music player and not the Pete version.

And anyone who only has one version of Tommy should also hear the other to hear the other guy's take on I'm a Sensation. Pete's version is 'I'm here, dealt with it' where Roger's is more 'I'm on my way, prepare yourself'.

Now explain to Roger Daltrey why your live concert has lip synced vocals in a way that won't make him want to kick your ass. Not looking at someone with a serious health condition Celine Dione, but there are old and new artists alike with no good reason.

Coming from Roger Daltrey it would sound more like "Eew want yur fooking arse kicked er sumpin?"

Wholigans know what I mean. The Who went insane is the unintentionally best review of a set/show ever. It comes from whomever on Cracked reviewed the hurricane Sandy relief concert and had quite possibly never seen The Who preform before.

Went insane could also describe a David Bowie performance but a totally different level of insanity.

I do believe why David Bowie was the perfect Jareth in Labyrinth elsewhere, Robert Plant could have done it if he were a bettor actor, Roger Daltrey could have done it but he's more of a gremlin and I sort of suspect he wasn't tall enough because Jareth really needed a height advantage over Sarah. Or Roger's just too raw sexuality where Bowie could be more subtle about it.

***

On the writing side of things I'm glad the older version of the writing notes was still on this hard drive, and a few other places because there was one variant on a comfort fic idea that got lost among all the others that does deserve to be written out again. It was obviously drafted then scaled back to notes for whatever reason.

The typing of the notes is still a few days away with 1 1/2 long (at least 20 pages) stories to go along with a couple other things. Then there's no less than 3 different fan projects with varying degrees of work that I want to type up too.

I got one of those baby surprise balls too. If the ball has a high pitched rattle it probably has a baby buggy in it. I don't see a want to purposefully buy any more of those, if I do I'll shake it and go for one that doesn't sound like a buggy, but I think I want some more Harry Potter potion balls.

The tube with the cork, which I had the cork in the wrong end, goes in the top of the ball so it looks like a potions container with the minis inside. At least they're finally doing something about the packaging.

[thepinkwriterr]

Capricorn Season Chapter Thirty-One

"Um, okay, go on," I said, my voice quivering with uncertainty. 

Her hands fidgeted against each other as she pursed her lips. She looked as if she were searching for the words. 

Worry struck me.

I waited for her to speak, watching her features quiver in search of words. 

"The night me, Bonzo, and Robert went to see Sabbath something happened."

I didn't say anything.  

More worry.

She spoke with taut tension. Her pursed lips relaxed into a grimace as she preapred to speak.

"Robert slept with Tiffany."

Icy pain ran through my bones. 

I didn't believe her on instinct, didn't want to, but the look she wore told me she was serious. 

"Are you sure?" I asked. 

All the air shot from my lungs in one blow. 

"Yeah, um, then Bonzo took her back to the hotel. Robert told us not to tell you." 

She stood in the doorway still, casting a shadow down the hall. 

"He did?" 

Another stab.

Why didn't she protect me?

"Yeah." She stood with her hands clasped, the threat of tears haunting her. "Please don't be mad that I didn't tell you, or that I did tell you. I was just trying to do what was best."

I couldn't breathe. Bricks sat heavy on my chest. A thick lump made a home in my larynax. It languished on my vocal chords. I struggled to find the right words as I looked at her pained expression. 

"No, it's okay," I spoke through my pain, "I-I understand." I said, the lump choking me as I spoke. Cold hands twisted around my neck leaving behind a trail of bruised fingerprints. 

I slid down to the floor next to the thin door, Gwen following suit. "I'm sorry, Lore," she hugged me as I began to cry. 

Of course this was the truth. This was the inevitable, the twisting of the knife. I don't know whom I was trying to fool more, myself or everyone else. He didn't love me. 

Torrents of heat wracked my body as I let out a sob, falling harshly and heavy as fat rain. The tide rolled back as my body inflated with an inhale, the waves crashing back as I wailed with an exhale. 

I was shocked that Tiffany was the one who made it all come crashing down. I knew it had to end, but I thought it would be his wife. I always imagined the idea of him having children, something I tried to ignore, but I knew he had a wife. It was a subject both of us avoided like the plauge. 

If we didn't bring her up, she didn't exist. She was like an apperition waiting to appear at the foot of my bed at nightfall. She lingered around corner, threatening to topple it all. She was something I never wanted to think about always ended up on my mind. 

I spent the next fifteen minutes like this. I cried so hard my stomach muscles ached and my head throbbed. She held me the entire time, smoothing my hair down and telling me it was going to be okay. I listened to her and allowed her words to soothe my now exhausted body. 

But she was wrong. It wouldn't be okay. Everything would be different now. Robert had slept with someone else. 

"Gwen?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Why didn't you tell me before?" 

She sighed. I looked up at her to see her brows drawn together like theatre curtains. Her eyes evaded mine. 

"I don't know...I guess I didn't want to upset the balance. I was having such a good time with you that I didn't want you to go." 

"You don't have to lie." 

She sighed again. Her brows relaxed and gave way to preformance that lie behind them. 

"I didn't want to blow up Robert's spot. I've never been in this postion. I didn't know how to balance it." 

We fell into a silence. Neither of us knew what to say, I guess. We'd never been at odds this way. 

After a while of languishing in the silence I slumped into her lap and fell asleep.

-  

She left before I woke. I was tucked snuggly into the duvet. I looked at the clock before fighting my way out of the covers. The guys would be back soon but I was happy to be alone. 

I didn't know what I wanted to do more-- scream at him or fall into his arms. I dreaded seeing him shortly.

What would I say? What could I say? He would just look at me with those beautiful eyes and whisper something charming in my ear and whisk me off again. That's what he did every time. Every time he looked to another girl or came back too drunk. He just smirked with those terrible lips and apologized with empty words. I always fell for it. Always. 

I had been here so many times. I could recognize these familiar feelings, the way they sat uncomfortably in my body. It was not the first time I'd been hurt like this, not even by him. I was filled with the same aching hope that always came after finding this out. 

This time I really opened myself up, put myself on the line. I told myself he was different, that it could be different. 

I knew it was a lie. It was a delusion I conjured up to justify another cycle of bullshit. 

There was a knock at the door that interrupted my thoughts. I hoped it to be Gwen and went to answer it. But it wasn't. It was the last person I wanted to see.

Tiffany was standing in my doorway wearing a sweet smile. She was wearing a sparkly red halter top and a tiny pair of shorts. She looked so innocent, so unaware. I hated her for it. 

I imagined his hands on her body. The sweat dripping from his overheated frame onto hers, the sound of his voice bouncing off the walls and catching in her ears. How beautiful he must've looked to her. 

I felt angry that she would even look at him. How could she? He was mine to admire, to adore as his features were adorned with pale sunlight filtered from hotel windows. He was my temporary lover.

I had foolishily hoped he would be more.

Quite foolishly. 

I was consumed with anger. It must've come up from the floorboards---I felt it start in my feet. Thick, heavy heat traveled through me. I felt adrenaline in my blood like so much water. It reached my scorching chest. My skin was red hot with rage. It worked through me with a frightening speed. I lurched at her. 

I threw her to the ground, dug my nails into the soft flesh of her tawny bicep. I didn't feel sorry. I felt vindicated, like a fucking warrior. 

Loud howelling bounced off the walls. Someone was screaming. I didn't know if it was me or her. The pain my throat told me it was me, but her jaw hung like an open window, so maybe it was both of us. A bead of sweat rushed down my spine and landed at the waistband of my cotton shorts. I was burning. 

I pulled a chunk of her hair. I had never touched it before. It was soft like silk in my hands. She was screaming for help. I wasn't pulling hard enough to rip it from her skull but I wanted to. 

Her skin was inflamed from scratching and slapping. She didn't even try to fight back, just like that day at the beach when Bonzo chased her around for what felt like an hour. I could feel the breeze on my slick shoulders. 

She was helped alright. The guys rushed out of their doors to peel me off her. 

Her lipstick smeared and hair matted. Her halter top had even come undone. Jonesy had to help her keep it in place as they went to her room.

"Yeah, bird fight!" Bonzo exclaimed with a playful smile. Jonesy slapped his arm. He was drunk. 

Robert pulled me up from the floor. I was an after thought. He practically drug me by the ear to our room. 

Gwen stood next to her room's door. She was drenched in dim light from the wall sconce. Her face was cast downward. She avoided my eyes. I felt even more shame. 

"What the hell happened?" Robert cried. The door had barely swung shut. 

I couldn't look at him. 

"Lorelei, hello! What happened? Why did you attack Tiffany?" He said it as if he already knew the answer. 

I cocked my head, speaking with a force I hadn't found in myself before, "Don't act like you don't know! Did you think I wouldn't find out?" I was yelling now. 

He acted so smugly, asking me what was wrong. He knew well and good. 

"This is all over me?"

"Don't be flattered. I'm leaving." I spat as I pulled my suitcase onto the bed, slamming it with all the energy I could muster. I started to pack my things. Anger burned off my tired frame. I was steaming and sweating. Adrenaline still worked through my body.

He flipped the top of my suitcase down. "Lorelei, stop." 

His eyes dug into me. 

I pleaded with him to stop silently. He held too much power over me. I shifted my gaze down to the floor. 

"I'm sorry, okay? I never wanted to hurt you." 

His voice was gentle and soft. I wanted to melt into him right then. 

I tried to be strong. 

"Bullshit," I cried, pushing his hands off me.

"Hey, c'mon, you know I love you."

"Don't say it if you don't mean it," I said through teary eyes.

"I do, I mean it. I love you. You're my girl." 

His words were quiet as if he were trying to keep a secret. 

"Robert, stop. I can't- you can't mess with my head like this." 

Tears rushed from me and fell down my face. I didn't know what was up or down. His hands and voice were lulling me into a sleep, one I needed so badly. His voice was an offer of reprieve. His hands worked at me. His eyes gave me a place of ease.

"I'm not, I promise. I love you. I really do."

"You don't mean that." 

I tried to continue my packing but he stood in the way again. 

"Stay here with me and I won't even so much as look at another girl. My love, my darling Lorelei, you're all I want." He held his hands up in defense, earnestly showing me his open palms.

"Okay."

"Okay?" He asked, a hopeful glint in his tone. 

My chest heaved slowly as my breathing stalled. It would soon return to normal as my nerves were calmed. "I'll stay." I said foolishly. 

I didn't know what a mistake I had made. I just wanted peace. I just wanted to be loved by him.

He put my suitcase down and slid it under the bed, tucking all the pain away. I already started to forget. We laid in the bed. He was close to me. I could feel the coolness of his body. I got the feeling he had put on this same production before. He rested his hands on my face, gently brushing the tears from my cheeks. I tried to blink them away but they kept coming. 

We slept that night, peacefully and closely, after a passionate display of his love. It was his intention to make me feel good after all that pain. I still felt like my heart was swallowing itself, but he made it better. He almost made me forget it was his fault. 

He had a certain magic about him. He could make you forget. I knew I couldn't forget how much it hurt. I couldn't forget the sights I had imagined. It was going to tear me apart. It would be the pretending that really hurt.

---

Taglist:

@anothercanyonlady​ , @jonesyjonesyjonesy​   @paginate54 , @seventieswhore , @jimmypages , @jimmys-zeppelin​ , @jimmysdragonsuit13

[royza-hawkstang]

Thanks to @rizaposting for the tag!!! Let's do this!

Last song: Follow Me by Celtic Woman. I'm a huge fan of Gaelic music in general, and this one absolutely slaps. I got the opportunity to see Celtic Woman live back in April and it was an amazing show!

Colour: I reeeeally really like green. My all-time favourite shade is phthalo green. Just -chef's kiss-

Last movie: Uhhhhhhh........... I think it was…...... Jaws. My partner and I (spoilers for the relationship bit) kept pausing to talk about the stage play The Shark is Broken, written by the son of Jaws actor Robert Shaw, based on Robert's on-set diaries from filing the movie!

Sweet, spicy, or savoury: Don't make me choose just one......... but if I have to, let's go savoury. Lemme sink my teeth into a juicy burger, or some chicken fingers, gimme that classic Canadian poutine!

Relationship: Married, to my lovely partner @lord-starbreath of five and a half years! Our wedding was understatedly Royai themed, because of course it was. He even set himself a calendar reminder on his phone for the wedding day (not because he thought he'd forget, but to mark the occasion) that said, in the words of Maes Hughes, "Get yourself a wife!"

Current obsession: My longform Royai AU fic 'Brushfire' and gearing up for tabling at my next set of conventions with my business Bad Rogue Design

Last googled: 'renaissance painting three people' because I wanted a reference image for drawing Roy/Riza/Havoc stuff 👀 (I was unsuccessful in this search)

Currently working on: Okay listen, I like… collect hobbies. So I'm making new prints, I'm doing two commissions, I'm crocheting a cosplay, I'm tending my plants, I'm writing fanfiction, I'm drawing, I'm sewing…. I'm just kind of all over the place!

I will tag, should they choose to participate, @spoopy-sloth @ssadropout @dragontamer05 and @riza-hawks-eye !

Tag the people you want to know better!

Tagged by @dairogo! Thank you :]

Last song: Werewolf by Cocorosie was the last thing that came on my playlist while I was in the shower. Always a banger! I am not immune to putting Werewolf on every playlist for a woman with issues and regrets and a fraught past.

Colour: purppplleeeee..... All shades of it, I've never met a purp i haven't liked 💜💜💜

Last movie: Oh jeez... What WAS the last movie I watched? Does the 4 hour Hbomberguy video essay count? That's like. Two movies.

Sweet, spicy or savoury: Sweet! I'm making a chocolate cheesecake for my irl dnd game this weekend and I'm so excited, it's been a while since I baked.

Relationship: Single so if anyone wants to admit that they're in love with me

Current obsession: Riza my wiwiwiwiwiwiwa 💗 But also joking that Roy Mustang is Italian. It's so funny. I love you Italian Roy Mustang

Last googled: The last google search that wouldn't dox me (looking up how far nearby towns are from me. Job search hell, you know how it is) I think was what the first antidepressants were

Currently working on: I have a commission for a repeat client I need to finish up, and afterwards finishing art for the Royai Big Bang! I've been taking a break from writing lately

Ummm ummmm tagging.... @scienceoftheidiot @phoenixfangs @milekael @rizatheestallion @ftmrizahawkeye @royza-hawkstang @littlewitchbee @equinooxe

[bijouxcarys]

My Brian May series has been a very important part of my life for the past 5 years. It’s more than a fanfiction. I touch on difficult subject matters with sensitivity and provide representation scarcely seen within fanfiction. The first book may start out as a typical fanfic. I was 17 when I started it, but as time passed, it became more than that. I’ve had readers who aren’t predominantly Queen or Brian May fans tell me how much it’s helped them—whether that be as a distraction or the security in representation.

I’ve published the first two on paperback, and plan on re-editing them in the future. I’ve achieved the #1 spot on multiple tags on Wattpad, and the first two books have collectively garnered almost 100k reads.

When I say this is a passion project for me… I mean it. I have recently started writing the third instalment, and plan on a total of six books in the series. I have worked so so hard on curating a realistic and periodically accurate story with relatable characters and events. I have extensively researched time periods, from the early 60s, right to the early 90s. I’ve developed a timeline, with the basic events, both factual and my fictional additions.

I don’t get paid for my writing. But that isn’t my goal. I don’t care about that. What I care about is my writing being enjoyed by thousands of people out there, Queen fans or not.

While it takes me a while to publish new chapters, whether in my BM series or any of my Robert Plant fics, know that it’s because I’m aiming to be better than my last creation, and to create something new that satisfies and satiates all of you—that gives you perhaps a moment of joy and escapism. That’s all I want to do.

There’s been an influx of Queen fans on my blog recently, so I’m inviting them, as well as anyone else, to read my Brian series. There is an unfortunate decline in quality fanfiction out there and I know firsthand how important it is to a lot of people to have this kind of relief, to live in another world for a moment.

That being said, if you want to write something, just write it. Someone out there will enjoy it. And if you feel like you’re no good, you’ll never know if you don’t try. As someone who’s been writing for 10 years now, I can safely say I’m still never fully satisfied with what I produce. So, just write. Whilst the passion’s still there. Do it for you, and if someone happens to enjoy it along the way, that’s just a bonus.

Below are the descriptions of my first three Brian books, as well as all 6 titles. I have a lot planned, so I hope you consider indulging! If you are considering it, check my pinned post on my blog for my entire catalogue 💕

[brownskinsugarplum76]

One Shot: Happy Ending

I'm finally done with the Robert massage story. Naturally it gets NSFW. 😉 Enjoy. ❤️❤️❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robert has you right where he wants you: naked and face-down on the bed. He knows you've had an exhausting day. He knows how to make it better.

He's thrown your red silk scarf over the lamp to dim the lights and set the mood. Barry White is playing on the stereo.

"I think this is warm enough now," he says. You can't see it, but you know he's talking about the bottle of oil that he was heating gently in warm water.

He straddles you, and his bare thighs rest against yours. You think of the best times when he has mounted you, face to face, and you’ve felt that same sensation of skin on skin. Then you get lost in visions of him onstage, his denim clinging to those soccer-sculpted thighs like a second skin. His legs are one of the many things that you love about his body.

The scent of sandalwood wafts to you and interrupts your pleasant fantasies. It's your sign that he has rubbed the oil in his hands to warm it further.

He glides his hands up your body to either side of your spine, then glides them back down. He repeats this a few times with strokes that get more and more firm.

“This is not an official massage move, but…” He lightly teases up the furrow of your spine with an impossibly slow finger. Then he cups the back of your neck with one of his large hands. He moves your hair to the side with his other hand and whispers, “I think you won’t mind if I mix some pleasure in with the business, yeah?” His tongue teases your ear and he kisses down the side of your neck before he resumes the massage.

He pauses for more oil and starts with the bottoms of your feet, working each surface in a way that is sublime after a busy work day.

You are surprised to realize how much tension you must’ve been holding in your calves and thighs when seconds of pain in those areas give way to total relaxation.

He shows his love for your ass by covering the area with a feather-light caress before he eases more tension away with a firm set of hands. Some of his strokes move your cheeks enough to tug at the lips of your core. You savor the feeling. You can’t tell if it’s accidentally or on purpose, and you don’t care either way.

He continues on. He works away the knots in your lower back, the tension higher up, and the stiffness of your neck. You’re feeling high, and the earlier part of the day is a distant memory.

He whispers in your ear. “Time to turn over, darlin’.” You marvel at how faraway his voice sounds in your stupor of pleasure. He has done a fantastic job so far.

You roll onto your back in what feels like slow motion. Your brain barely registers the scent of more sandalwood oil being heated in Robert’s hands before he massages the tension away in each of your toes and the front of your thighs.

Your arms feel like they could float in the air when he releases the tension in each one, and his work on your hands and fingers is also transcendent. You feel all of the stressed, nervous energy leaving your body.

You’re half asleep when he presses his weight on top of you and whispers, “I’m off duty now, girl… Strictly pleasure from here on…”

You’re too relaxed to acknowledge him with anything but a slow smile.

He cups your breasts, one after the other, with a light touch and licks your nipples to attention before nipping each one. The spark of mild pain from his teeth wakes you up a bit.

He follows up with more lapping and sucking of your breasts while his tongue ignites electric sensation inside of you.

You start to writhe on the bed. His hands journey down your sides while his tongue sinfully greets much of your torso. At this point, you feel his manhood dragging across your skin, making you more and more desperate to feel his size inside of you.

When he realizes that you're trying to lift your hips to meet his cock, he laughs. "You won't be feeling any of that for a long time, dear…" He continues with his tongue on a slow path below your navel. "But you will get more of this than you can stand…"

He rests his hand on your entrance and lets a finger fall between your lips, lazily trailing it in your wetness, while he holds your gaze. You can't help but squirm and grow impatient for the goodness that you know is on the way.

He rears up and kisses you one more time before he prepares to camp out at your entrance.

He gently spreads your outer lips and begins. You're still woozy from the massage, but the motion of his tongue wakes you up. A velvety warmth pools inside of you as your sensitive skin comes alive.

You savor the warmth and wetness of his tongue. His mouth is as nimble on your sensitive skin as it is on his harmonica.

You realize that he wasn't kidding about being in no hurry. Time becomes an otherworldly concept as he ushers your body through gradually escalating highs of pleasure, one apex exceeded after the other. Your clit aches for more, more, more, and your breathing turns staccato.

You’ve been watching the earnest movement of his head between your legs and the serpentine undulation of his curls across your skin, but you close your eyes and turn inward now. You begin to roll your hips to meet the lusty movements of his mouth. It’s instinct, meant to satisfy you and entice him to abandon his efforts and grind his body against yours in a primal dance.

It’s all you can think about now, his cock on the move inside of you. Your breath hitches at the thought.

He seems to sense your desires, and he puts two of his fingers to work inside of you. You enjoy the sensation, but it only makes you want his cock more. You wail and beg for him to penetrate you.

Robert smirks at you again. “It’s coming soon, darlin. You’ll get all of me really soon, don’t you worry. I can tell you’re close.”

Your voice rises and you begin to chant his name. You arch into him even more. You feel the last bit of your control slipping away.

You ride his finger and his mouth faster. It’s almost more than you can bear.

Just as you’re about to beg again for his cock your climax races through your body, causing you to tremble in response to its insistence.

You’re still trembling as Robert abandons his post between your legs to whisper in your ear: “I told you I’d take care of you, darlin’. Now,” he says, thrusting himself deep inside of you, “it’s your turn to take care of me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary.