#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~!

[deadlynightshade-and-hyacinth]

Im Gonna Crawl

Chapter 3 

  We pulled up to The Garden and travelled under the arches taking us to the back of the arena; a safe space to exit and enter. Even through the back we were unable to avoid the small and ever-increasing crowd already surrounding every bit of sidewalk real estate in a sloppy at best line. More like a hoard. Like Night of the Living Dead except it's just teenagers, lovers, and potheads. 

We walked the corridor, reaching the heart of the hall where a staggering number of roadies stood preparing, discussing. 

In the crowd I spotted Robert in the middle of the group looking slightly puzzled. He met my gaze and grinned, waving the roadies off, he strolled past them. 

“My darling girl, California.” He bared his teeth in a goofy smile. 

I looked at him puzzled. “I’m not from California.”

He shook his head back and forth. “No, but you bring the sunshine with you.” 

“You know, Cali is short for something.”  

“Do tell.” He quirked an eyebrow. 

I smiled. “You know it’s been so long I can’t seem to remember.” I teased a finger tapping my chin. 

His eyebrow raised further and I gave him a condescending smile. He opened his mouth but I shook my head. He relented and changed the subject. “I heard you got Pagey quite drunk.” He nudged my arm playfully. 

“I believe Mr. Page was drunk before I met with him.” I stated to which he gave me a look that implied he had figured as much. “He’s quite the character.” I added. 

“Ahh well, he can be a lot of things. Don’t judge too harshly, though.” His brows furrowed. “We’ve been touring too long. It gets harder the longer we go. He’s usually rather shy actually.” He shrugged. 

This was rather hard to fathom. “He didn’t seem shy to me.” 

Robert laughed. “The liquor. It gives him confidence.” 

“Confidence is one word for it. I’d say it makes him act like a cocky little asshole. I can't say I'm overly ecstatic to see him sober.  ”

. “You’re not wrong. But to be truthful, if that’s alright?” I nodded. “Hair of the dog.” He paused. “He’s drunk because he doesn’t want to deal with the inevitable hangover and you caught him off guard and at the wrong time. That drunk fool you’ve seen isn’t all he is.” He laughed once. “Alcohol and a beautiful woman are all it takes to drudge that pesky little demon you’ve met out of him.” He pinched one of my runaway hairs and tucked it behind my ear. “A very beautiful woman.” 

“Are you coming on to me, Robert?” I teased. 

His toothy grin beamed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He looked back over at the group of people surrounding the couches. “James has been brooding in the corner since he got here. I know his moods and what brings them on. So, no I’m not and will not be coming onto you… No matter how much I want to.” He winked. 

“You ready Robert?” Jonesy padded his way over to us. “Cali” He nodded softly; his smile timid. 

“California.” Robert corrected, his grin wide and toothy.

Jonesy raised his eyebrows, panic and blush rising on his Adonis face. “Is that your name? I’m terribly sorry. I must have misheard you earlier.” 

“No Jonesy.” Robert rolled his eyes. “It’s her new nickname.” He stated with childlike pride. 

“Aren’t nicknames supposed to be shorter than the person’s actual name?” Jonesy raised an eyebrow. 

“I don’t know Jonesy. Isn’t your nickname longer than your real name? Even Bonzo’s is longer.” Robert deadpanned.. 

“Touché.” He agreed. “Jimmy’s getting restless.” He pointed his thumb behind him. “Why is he sulking?” 

Robert gave a hearty laugh. “A pretty bird has his panties in a twist.” He winked at me. 

Jimmy was watching us, a sharp look in his eye as a couple roadies fought for his attention over a matter they likely desired more concentration for. The urge to glare like a toddler, far too strong. You're an adult. Behave. 

“Aye, you’re ‘ere!” Bonzo came bounding behind me, scooped me up in a bear-like embrace. 

I gasped as he embraced me, “Jesus, John.” 

“I like this one. Heard you gave the princess a run for his money.” His laugh, deafening and contagious. With a pat on the back he set me back and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “Say, you got any Mary-Jane?” He wagged his eyebrows. 

“Sorry, I left it back at the hotel. You can have your way with it when we get back.” His brown eyes were deep and warm. Something about the golden hues made me feel warm, comforted, and safe. “You have beautiful eyes.” The sentiment was light.  

“Uh-oh Jimmy better buckle up or Bonzo here’s gonna steal his woman.” Robert wagged his brows fervently. 

I shook my head, looking down at my feet. “I’m sorry to break it to you boys but I’m already taken.” I regretted saying it the moment the words left my lips, it felt like a lie. IT IS A LIE. Come on, you can't be seriously rethinking the end to that relationship. When I looked back up Jimmy was standing behind Robert and Jonesy, his eyes on me. 

“That’s a terrible shame for us!” Robert beamed. “He’s a lucky fella.” 

“Let’s go.” Jimmy muttered impatiently before turning around and heading for the stage. 

“Jesus!” Bonzo sighed under his breath. He dropped his arm from my shoulders and gave me a face like he was in trouble. “Duty calls.”

Robert pecked my cheek as they all followed suit. Peter motioned for me to join him and a couple of backstage workers. “Gentleman, this is Cali. She’ll be working with us for the next week or so. Don’t bother her, don’t pester her, be gentlemen.” With one terrifying look they simply nodded. “Now get to work, for fuck sake.” 

“Hey, Peter!” A man wrapped in cords by the stage called for him. 

“Excuse me.” Peter’s irritation was apparent. I wondered if there was ever a time he wasn’t on some kind of edge. A time where his shoulders could lax, his mind could wander, and he could take a breath without it being hindered by another situation needing resolution. I supposed it was hard to keep four grown men living a teenager’s dream in check. 

“You must be Cali.” He was tall and domineering, eyes dark, energy not quite readable. “Richard.” He held his hand out to meet mine. “I’m the road manager. I take care of the boys and make sure they get everything they need or want.” 

“Pleased to meet you.” My smile forced. 

“Peter asked me to make sure you’re comfortable and have everything you need.” His mind very obviously focused elsewhere. “Anything you need?” 

“Actually, I was wondering if there was a phone I could use.” 

His eyes flashed as he grinned. “Follow me.” He turned and headed down a hall passing by multiple dressing rooms. He finally stopped at one and let me in. “There’s a phone in there you can use. Don’t be too long. The band shouldn’t be long with rehearsal.” 

He turned on his heels and sauntered back down the corridor. I closed the door behind me, fumbling to find the light switch. A quick glance around the room indicated it was in use by one of them. Hanging in an open-faced closet was a black velvet suit. I fingered the material, curious. Patches and sequins placed in precarious places creating flowers, dragons, planets, – Saturn to be precise – and odd embroidered symbols. Instantly I assumed this was Jimmy’s. It screamed, him. Dark, mysterious, confusing, asshole. 

I shook my head rid of him and picked up the phone. Taking a deep breath I dialed the number. It rang twice. 

“Hello?” It wasn’t Daniel. It was his roommate, Craig. I internally cringed. He was almost always around and always had the urge to put his two-cents into every conversation. Especially the ones he wasn’t a part of. 

  “Hey.” I sighed. “Is Daniel there?”

“Oh, hey Cali! So, you finally deigned to call? Daniel’s not very happy with you. You know–” 

“Is he there?” I cut him off. Am I seriously about to be lectured by this guy? Fuck off, pal.

“No.” 

“Well can you tell me when he will be there?” 

“Well I could, or you could just leave a message for him and I’ll have him call you when he’s available.” 

I leaned against the counter and exhaled a long breath, closing my eyes. “Just tell him I’ll call later.” 

“You know you really hurt him...” He pressed. 

“I hurt him?” My tone was incredulous. “That’s a joke, right?” 

“Hey, hey. No need to shoot the messenger.”

“Tell Daniel I’ll try him later. I’m busy.” I gave up. 

“Busy huh?” He made an unnecessary noise with his lips. “He told me what you’re doing… Shame, shame.” 

“What exactly is it that you think I'm doing? You know what? Never mind, fuck off, Craig.” I slammed the phone back on its cradle. “Fuck!” I yelled. 

“Now whose panties are in a twist?” I whirred around, startled. Jimmy leant against the doorway. What is with this guy and doorways? His eyes were full of curiosity, lips turned up at the corners. Of course he's amused.  

“I’m sorry, this is unprofessional but I don’t have the patience for you right now, Mr. Page.” I pushed myself off the counter. 

He narrowed his eyes and folded his arms against his chest. “You’re in my room.” 

“My apologies.” I mimicked his grimace and pushed past him. 

He grabbed a hold of my wrist and pulled me in close, his breath tickling my ear. I shivered under his touch. “If I find you back in here, I won’t be such a gentleman.” He moved his lips away and supported my eyes with his. The deep emerald of his iris’s stunning. 

I opened my mouth to speak but before I could he let go of my wrist and disappeared into the dressing room, closing the door in my face. 

“Twat.’ I breathed. 

* 

“What’s on your mind?” Jonesy lightly touched my forearm bringing me out of my reverie. 

“It’s nothing.” I shook my head and smiled at him. 

It was insisted that I join Jonesy and Robert in one of the limos back to the plane for an early supper before the show. I hadn’t seen Jimmy since he had closed the dressing room door in my face, my encounter with him lingered in electric fizzles just under the thin layer of skin on my wrist. 

“You haven’t touched your food.” Robert pressed. “Are you sure it’s nothing?” 

I looked up at him and forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m sorry, my mind is just elsewhere at the moment.” 

“Aye California! You ready to break into the good stuff?” Bonzo yelled from the doorway of the dining room wagging his eyebrows. He entered the room, Jimmy trailing along behind him, his usual dark cloud following wherever he went. 

Holding up a finger, I jumped up from my seat and padded into the other room where My luggage had been left. 

The thing about a big Jet plane is voices travel. 

“What did you do, Jimmy?” Robert was quiet in tone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Percy.” Jimmy answered, his voice raw.  

“She was fine until–” Robert started. “She’s cool, man. Don’t mess thi–.”

`

“I didn’t do anything.” Jimmy cut him off. “Her phone call must have set her off. She left the room after she hung up.” 

“Shh.” I heard Jonesy. “You’re both idiots if you think she can’t hear you.” 

I grabbed the cigarette box that held a handful of joints and joined the boys in the other room. “Here you go, John.” 

“Bonzo.” He corrected me. He opened the case and passed me a joint. “Ladies first.” 

I took the joint and placed it between my lips, running my hands over my pockets looking for my lighter. 

“Here.” 

I looked up and Jimmy was standing in front of me, his lighter lit under the joint. He watched as I inhaled, his eyes burning into mine. He dropped his gaze and a shiver went down my spine. “Thanks.” He nodded in response. passing the joint to Bonzo I excused myself. 

Feeling slightly dazed by the major whiplash Jimmy was giving me, I walked out of the plane and descended the steps. When I was on solid ground I looked up to the sky, closed my eyes, and took in a deep breath, slowly exhaling. 

“Am I under your skin yet?” I hadn’t heard his approach. My eyes shot open. He took a swift step back and smiled; his eyes blank.

“No.” I said too quickly. 

His face contorted into an amused leer. His teeth dug into his lower lip as he looked me up and down. “Come.” He closed the space between us, his hand hovering over my hip. “Take the car with me.” He nodded toward the Cadillac, his eyes never leaving mine. 

The chaos he exuded had me frozen. I opened my mouth but failed—to his delight—to form words. He bit his lip again and grinned. “Breathe, sweetheart.” He pressed his hand to my hip, wrapping his fingers around me firmly. 

I took in a breath. “James—” 

“Aye, California!” Bonzo yelled. 

Jimmy took his hand off my hip and took a firm step back just as Bonzo exited the plane door. 

“This is some amazing shit!” He bounded down the stairs. “Why’d you leave?” 

“Just needed some air.” I smiled. 

“You too, Pagey boy?” He wagged his brows. 

Jimmy was unimpressed. “I’m heading to the venue. Cali agreed to come with me.” He smiled slyly. “Didn’t you?” He shot me a look. Just as I was about to protest, he added. “To use the phone there of course. You did say you needed to call… Daniel… was it?” 

How much of my conversation with Craig did he hear? I narrowed my eyes slightly and faked a smile. “Of course. I’ll see you there.” I nodded to Bonzo and turned on my heels. Jimmy ran ahead of me and held the car door open. I hopped in and scooched to the farthest seat, ignoring him as he followed me in. 

“Are your mood swings clinical or are you just deranged?” I was exasperated by the three different personalities of his that seemed to pop up unannounced.  

He rolled his eyes and ignored my question. “The Garden.” He murmured to the driver. As the car started moving, he slid across the seat until his shoulder lightly grazed mine. He turned his head towards me, his eyes staring forward. “I will win your heart.” He stated quietly, cocky. “Or at the very least this.” His fingered reached the hem of my shirt, his touch light as a feather against the skin of my lower abdomen.

I flicked his hand away. “You won’t.” I nodded in his direction. “There’s a whole seat beside you, please move.” 

“You’re suddenly so sure of yourself.” His hand moved to my knee. 

“I’m still sure of myself.” His hand moving up, fingers soft as feathers along the inside of my thigh. “Remove your hand.” My breath hitched to his amusement. 

He turned his face now to look at me. “Are you sure?” He stopped moving and pressed the pads of his fingers into my skin. He leaned in closer, his lips brushed against my cheek, a finger on his other hand pulling my chin toward him until his lips hovered over mine. “Should I stop?” His warm breath made me tremble. I started to turn my face away but he traced a finger along my jaw and pulled me back. “Tell me you want me to.” He whispered. 

  Despite the distaste in my mouth I trembled under his touch. “I…” It was a whisper, unwelcome and juvenile. Disappointment was evident in my tone. It was hard to tell whether it was directed at myself or at his pathetic attempt at a shot but nonetheless it had me weak.

The car came to a stop. Startled out of his trance I turned my attention to the window, we were outside the stadium. Turning back he clutched my chin softly holding me in his gaze once more. His thumb brushed along my lower lip, eyes suddenly warm, gaze almost somber. As casually as he could muster he leaned into me. 

I backed away from him, his eyes bewildered and filled with the harsh sting of rejection. “No.” I whispered before leaving the vehicle and disappearing into the venue without him. 

I raced through the halls, head swimming, lungs unable to hold the air I breathed. When I had run far enough, I stopped and leaned against the cold concrete wall. I slid down and sat on the floor clutching my head in my hands. 

My head was loud and aching. I couldn’t fathom my slight attraction to the man who so clearly was childlike in pursuit of someone who didn’t want him, someone who turned him down. And yes, you can totally want somebody but not want to be with them. Rejection must be something he rarely experienced. I was more irritated with myself than him. People are who they are. You can’t expect someone to be a fictionalized version you create. You have to let people be who they choose to be.

I pondered what distaste I held for his multiple personalities. I sighed heavily, my head growing louder and overwhelmingly hard to keep quiet as multiple trains of thought ran rampant within the walls of my skull. “God, I need a drink.” I whispered to myself. 

“I can help you with that.” Richard was looking down at me with a big grin. “Come.” He held his hand out to me, pulling off of the floor. 

“Thanks.” I followed him down the hall to the backstage that Peter had brought me to earlier that day. He guided me to the bar and poured me a glass of whisky. 

“Jimmy said you liked it.” He held the glass out to me. 

I could feel my cheeks starting to flush and internally kicked myself for letting him get me worked up. I was here to do a job and that’s all I wanted out of this experience. Richard noted my blush and the corner of his lips twitched. “Be careful.” He murmured ominously before vanishing into a new crowd of people. 

I sighed laboriously before I tipped the glass to my lips and took a sip. The burning of the liquid warm and soothing as it slipped down my throat. I smiled against the glass and took another sip.  

“Not chugging the bottle this time?” Jimmy bumped my shoulder coldly as he walked by. I watched him walk toward a group of young girls who immediately started fawning over him and to the surprise of a thin brunette he grabbed her hip, turned his head in my direction, making eye contact with me, his lips a hard line before taking the girl toward the dressing rooms. 

“Classy.” I shook my head. As I watched him recede from view, my heart dipped. I hated myself for the feeling. I looked down at the glass in my hand, “Fuck it.” I shrugged and consumed the contents in the glass before pouring another one. I drank the whole glass again, feeling it swirling in my blood and twirling in my head. Drinking had always been casual and still the cordial relationship we shared was quick to turn toxic.

“Whoa slow down, little girl.” Robert gave me a worried smile. “Did you get a hold of your man?” He shimmied his shoulders as he said it. 

“No, I haven’t tried yet. It can wait.” I swayed slightly on my feet but balanced myself out again.  

His eyes heavily surveyed me as he plucked the empty glass from my hand and wrapped his arm around my waist. “Come with me, darling.” His tone light and playful. He guided me down the same hallway Jimmy had taken the other girl down. I could feel my body tightening up, my muscles trying to run in the other direction. 

We stopped in front of the dressing room beside Jimmy’s. As I looked at the closed door my legs started to give out. “Whoa.” He breathed out, startled as he caught me and held me up. He held me so our chests were touching, his arms firmly around my waist. Looking up into his baby blue eyes I could see why so many young girls fell head over heels for the man.  

“You’re very beautiful, you know that?” It was a mere whisper. A thought not meant to be uttered. His laugh was a melodic, sweet honey on velvet with a rasp barely audible over its falsetto. 

The other dressing room door flung open, Jimmy trailing behind, his hand still firmly on the knob. His wide grin dropped at the sight of Percy and I, his mouth agape, brows furrowed. 

A thousand miniscule bouts of confidence sparked electric orange within me. With a grin belonging to a deviant, I smiled, a feather light touch of my hand on Robert’s dressing room door knob. “Excuse us.” I opened the door and pulled Robert in, closing the door behind us and locking it. I leaned against the door; my eyes widened in horror. It was childish and petty to say the least. “I’m so sorry.” I whispered to Robert. 

“He’s going to think we’re in here having a quick shag. He’s going to have my head, you know that?” He chided me but a guilty smile played on the edges of his lips. “The look on his face was quite priceless.” He plopped down on the couch and patted the spot next to him. “You’re letting him under your skin.” 

I sat beside him and rested my head on his arm. “I don’t know if I can do this.” I admitted. “Are you sure he is capable of any redeeming qualities?” I was woefully unaware of what exactly he was trying to prove. My only thought was his incessant need to have whatever deluded fantasies and desires his mind could conjure granted at the drop of a hat and getting under my skin or in my bed was his newest conquest. It was something I was not akin to experiencing. Rejection was a large part of life and if you were unable to accept it as truth you were surely going to live a miserable and unhealthy one. 

“Don’t give up now.” He started petting my hair. “Give your man a ring, it will make you feel better.” 

“I think it might make everything worse.” I confessed. 

“How so?” He turned his head to look at me. 

I sat up, pinching my eyes closed, unable to meet his gaze. “A week ago, I caught Daniel cheating. And I haven’t had a real or peaceful conversation with him since. I haven’t even had a real or peaceful day since it happened. I let it muddle everything up.” 

“Is your love with Daniel real?” It was assertive, breathless, sure of itself. The question hung heavy in the room.

I was taken aback. I took a moment to ponder. “I don’t know.” I sighed. “I guess we never really had a great relationship. Most of the time we hated each other but I can’t seem to let go, even though a big part of me really wants to. Needs to.” 

Percy nodded, absorbing my words with quiet thought and deliberation. “Maybe this job is what you need. This…. time away from everything and everyone to really see where your priorities and your heart should be.” He took a deep breath. “And Jimmy, obviously you have an attraction to him otherwise you wouldn’t be in here with me trying to make the bastard go mad… my advice on that would be, my darling, to either ignore him, keep him far in the back of your mind… or to let nature take its course.” He pinched my chin between his finger and thumb. 

“Beautiful man.” I smiled gratefully at him.

“You flatter me.” He feigned modesty. 

The conversation came to a screeching halt with a loud thump on the door. “Lets go, Plant.” Affliction deep-rooted in his gruff exclamation. I questioned whether he was aware of how obvious his disdain was or if he didn’t even realize.

Percy’s eyes were wide as he laughed, pulling deep from within his gut. “You gonna be alright, love?” 

I smiled genuinely with a nod. 

“Good.” He took my hand and pulled me through the doorway into the empty hall. “I guess he left.” He shrugged. “Despite your efforts to make him believe you were going to have your way with me, for the sake of my friendship I think I need to tell him I didn’t shag his girl.” 

“Not his girl. But yes, go save yourself. I’ll make my way there eventually.” 

His smile was sweet as he pecked my cheek.

. 

I stood in the hall after he left, not sure how to take the advice. Without thinking of actions and consequences I turned the knob to Jimmy’s room and slowly opened the door. I peeked inside, the room empty for the exception of his clothes strewn across the couch, his crushed velvet suit still hanging in the closet.  

Taking in a deep breath I gathered my emotions and threw them into the depths of myself to bury. Turning to leave I swear for a moment I managed to jump out of my skin as Jimmy stood in the doorway watching with quiet contemplation, his demeanor different, supercilious and uplifted. 

“I told you if I found you in here again, I wouldn’t be a gentleman.” He smirked at me. It's this smug smile that’s gonna get me fired and charged with assault. 

“Honestly, I don’t believe you could be a gentleman if you tried.” I attempted to stride past him but he grabbed my hand roughly. “No.” I yanked it from his grip and kept walking, not daring to look back. 

“I’ll see you next time, sweetheart .” He yelled behind me. 

I kept walking until I reached the bar, Feeling his static presence as he followed behind. He was quick to take his guitar from a roadie and head to the stage. 

“He just sat there. Wouldn’t even look at me. He just sat there and stared at the door.” Her high voice was almost whimsical as she teared up, her mascara quick to drip down her pink cheeks. The young girl Jimmy had whisked away to his dressing room was sobbing into a handkerchief. “He heard someone in the hall, went out to see and then came back in and kicked me out. I don’t know what I did wrong.” She sobbed louder. 

I couldn’t help myself. “It’s for the best,” I murmured to the girl and patted her shoulder as I walked by. “The man’s got a nasty disease… trust me you don’t want it.” The girls comforting Jimmy’s reject scrunched their noses at the news, whispering amongst themselves, debating on which disease it might be.

Small victories.

Petty? Yes.

Juvenile? You got it, babe, but a victory nonetheless. 

I leaned against an amp, drink in hand and watched the ensuing rehearsal. 

“Cali.” Richard nodded, watching the band. “You seem to be in better spirits.” He remarked, still looking forward. 

“I am.” I smiled. I watched the men onstage, collecting as much insight on them as I could. They seemed to be themselves onstage, Robert, graceful, poised, gallant and wise, Jonesy, quiet, shy and unbelievably warm, Bonzo, loud and chaotic and James, a mysterious, cunning and ominous enigma. There was something dark about him, not just his moods, not the odd chunk of his personality I had been exposed to but something else, something I couldn’t figure out.  

@dreamcastgirl99

[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.

[lastdays0fmay]

BTS 70s Band AU Headcanons I think of Often

I’ve been wanting to write about this for ages but haven’t formally written stories in YEARS..I wrote a shitty one shot on ao3 that I’m not happy with SOpls enjoy some headcanons while I procrastinate actually going through with the fic

Lmk if you like this and want to hear more, or just wanna geek about this au with me PLS ‼️

This has no organization to it, just stream of consciousness yep

TW for talk of drugs, alcohol, nsfw content. 18+ 🫡

• college kid jk, who still lives in his childhood bedroom gets dragged to see a new band with best friend (and music fanatic) jimin, and they become groupies

• jimin works at the town’s local record store

• jk and jimin hang at the roller rink— jimin is really talented at roller-skating and jk just watches from the benches

• THE BAND

tae- the lead singer obv, with shoulder length dirty blond hair, a very commanding performer (think; robert plant)

yoongi- keys, one of the masterminds behind the music. black shaggy hair, definitely enjoys reefer more than most..

hobi- lead guitarist, curly long hair, and jk’s celebrity crush. hobi and tae are known for their intense chemistry on stage, people think they’re romantically entwined

jin- bassist, a nepo baby (his dad owns the record company), but fits the band so well. the stoic mysterious type on stage, total nerd behind the scenes. disco fan 🙂‍↕️

joon- drums, fringe vest no shirt on stage. grew up with tae, always keeping watch on the younger as they grapple with stardom and addiction. stays up all night watching tae sleep to make sure he doesn’t choke in his sleep.. tae may or may not go too hard on purpose just so joon will stay with him

• a lot of ambiguous relationships sort of overlapping with each other. it was the 70s, things were looser !!

• through the eyes of jk as he falls in love with the band and hoseok, finding himself along the way

• jikook following the band around on tour, becoming their unofficial photography team

• namjoon in a conversation pit with a hookah pipe..

• biiiig hippy stoner hobi who tripsits jk’s first time on acid

• vmin becoming best friends/shit disturbers teasing jk about his stupid obvious crush on hobi

• jk; picture randy from dazed and confused YOU SEE IT RIGHT??? god it’s so perfect

• jk sneaking out in the middle of the night to go see the band with jimin. like climbing backwards out of his bedroom window, denim ass illuminated by jimins headlights

• small town jikook living in suburbia boringville and getting their minds blown by the band

• jimin x seokjin?

• jimin was jk’s first kiss.. they “practiced” on each other to prepare for the real thing one day

• hobi is very aware of jk’s interest in him and uses that to his advantage i.e; teasing and keeping him wrapped around his finger but never letting him get close enough bc hobi got trust issues

• hobi using that hot mysterious guitarist ploy

• tae and hobi most definitely have a past, are casual about it. fwb type thing

• maybe love triangle with tae, yoongi, and joon.. like tae’s in love with joon, yoongi’s in love with tae, joon.. oh maybe they just need to be a throuple LOL

[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 🥲

[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

[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. 3: Bright Lights, Big City, Dark Sylph, Dark Lord~..."

~

~

Bright lights, big city. Taillights & headlights. Children of the sun. Suntanned skin & brown bottled beer. And a curvy, dusky skinned sylph a bit too dressy for such casual surroundings heading into the blues pumping nightclub. Cutting a swath through the milling crowd. Bathed in a pinkish glow from the neon curved lights announcing to the world the humble haven at which they, along with Robert & co had found themselves: The Chuco.

A reference to the Pachucos, zoot suiters that a lot of its denizens were birthed to or had otherwise in their family.

The first teddy boys in a way, Robert thought, right down to the flashy clothes & slicked back hair. Some of the kids still sported that "greaser" aka teddy boy look. Though Robert knew well enough to steer away from the former term & used the latter. He recognized the look anyway. Right down to the cuffed jeans & white t-shirts with the rolled up sleeves that had the cigarette packets & matchbook tucked inside.

He had attempted such a look in his youth. In those heady early days. When rock'n'roll first shook him, and blues first seduced him away. Astray.

Astray.

Astray is apparently how he continued to stay. How else would he find himself here? At a small nightclub away from the rest. Away from all others. But Magnet.

And her.

Magnet he saw chatting up a pretty, petite young thing against a nearby wall.

That just left him. And her. And about a few tens of other kids around them. But in his mind they all but disappeared. All blurring into a Renoir like smudgy frame for his gaze. Myopic as ever. Single-minded. Laser focused. His view. His vision. The vision.

Her.

Her.

Her.

She was bathed in light. A pink light. Blushing violet pink. The shade was a near perfect match to the signage outside. It lit her & everyone else in the room. Making them look like the denizens of one of those pulpy romance comics. All dark features & strawberry light. All dark features except for him. Which, despite his better nature, only served to have him further feel like the protagonist in one of those pulpy romances.

All dark features. And strawberry light. All he saw then was dark features & a figure lit by strawberry light. From the club's tinted lighting, yes. From the rose colored glasses Robert always seemed to sport- especially regarding her - also yes. But also from within.

She lit up.

She came alive here.

She was incandescent.

Her eyes sparkled. Glittered. Shone really. Her mask of previously remote features now fully removed if not shattered. Now her lips curved in the proudest gleaming grin.

She raised her arms in exultation, releasing a cry of exultation from deep within. One which ended up being a cry of call and response. As many around her responded with a similar cry in return.

Thankfully she was far enough ahead - while of course still remaining well in Robert's sight - that no one around them let out any other screams at Robert's striding his 6 foot, blonde, white, English country boy self inside.

Indeed he saw some glimmers of recognition, disbelief, then outright confusion. He could read their features like a book. A silent movie at play before him.

Is it him?

It is!

Why the fuck would he be here?

There's no way!

Little did they know.

There was a way.

One way.

Her.

Her.

Her.

Robert took a beer Magnet gave him in passing. He then noted with his first sip, that Magnet as he passed, was currently flitting on his way to another girl still with the first in tow. Three's company. His kinda company clearly. Clearly hopeful that a threesome was on the way.

Classic Magnet.

Upon taking this beer, Robert raised it to those eyes of recognition. A toast. In return, he pressed a finger to his lips & gave a conspiratorial smile. Thankfully, miraculously, this seemed to be enough to quell any tongues that might've been set a-wag by his arrival. Smiles were returned. Nods & cheers with their drinks in return. A few blown kisses by some young lovelies.

And it was then that even though Robert found his "cover blown," so to speak, he found himself in the clear.

With his way now clear, Robert made his way to Dahlia. She had hugged a few old friends in warm, enthusiastic greeting, chattering animatedly in a quick catch-up. Catching them as she was arriving & they were leaving. After waving goodbye, she then strolled over to the bar, picking up a beer & taking a swig herself as her bent elbow rested on the bartop she leaned back into.

As Robert approached, the soundtrack of sorts, incidental music, continued to tease him in a way that seemed anything but incidental, accidental, or by happenstance. This time, it was Junior Walker & his All Stars.

"What does it take…

(What does it take)...

To win your love for me?...

(To win your love for me)...

How can I make…

(How can I make)...

This dream come true for me…"

He reached out in what seemed like slow motion. Reaching for the vision in raspberry light. Strawberry light. A brilliant smile that seared itself into his mind at first glance. A lyrical laugh that rang out above the clinking beer bottles & trickled over him like the lightest, sweetest waterfall. And silken, tawny skin that burned him alive simultaneously as his fingers slid across her velvet soft hand. The one without the ring.

Her eyes cut over to him. Her gaze at first flickered in confusion before alighting in recognition, smile back to full strength. She mimicked the song then playing in her greeting.

"Hello, stranger." She then added yet another one of her light, playful teases. "Long time no see." Clinking bottles with him, she continued. "I was wondering when you were gonna amble your way in."

"Ah…"

For once in his life, Robert struggled for a snappy line.

So he scrambled for the closest thing.

A grin curved his lips, easier than he felt inside. "Well I can't very well leave you to the wolves now can I?" His delivery wasn't as smooth as he'd have liked, alas. His voice shook slightly. Hopefully she just took that for barely checked laughter.

As it turned out, she took it in stride. It barely checked. It barely registered.

"Wolves?" Dahlia tossed her head back in a laugh of her own. "What wolves?" Motioning to all that was around them, she stated proudly. "This? This is family! We're among family here, Planty! Don't you see? Can't you tell? We're home!"

Home.

Home indeed.

For her.

Dahlia, the girl from East LA. Hometown girl. Local girl made good. Just as her historian father Alberto Dominguez-Alvarez was a local man made good. His books and scholarly lectures and presentations were full of their glory days, both past & present.

Children of the sun.

Chucos.

Chicanos.

He'd caught one of those presentations & lectures in Birmingham in his Pre-Zeppelin days. That's where he got Alberto's books. That's where he got a primer on Mexican culture. Pre-Columbian & current. On Mexican youth. Past & present. On her.

Her father had used her pictures as an example - if a rather self-indulgent one - of modern Mexicanidad. Mentioning her then current early enrollment in UCLA.

There was a collage of pictures of her with her acceptance letter. In a brown beret uniform in East LA where they hailed from. In her Quince dress from the society page. In a button down & jeans in the slightly more upmarket part of LA the family had then moved to. In a classic, demure dress in Mexico. Using her as an example of possibility, of accomplishment, of their multifacetedness. All in one.

Later, he admitted when questioned that yes, she had been in the Sunset Strip curfew protests that some had termed riots. But he stressed that they were protests. And social engagement, community engagement was not a crime and should not be considered a crime due to a difference in melanin between the protestors themselves or between them & those they were protesting against. A knowing reference to the Civil Rights Movement.

Neither Alberto nor Robert had no idea how prescient those words were. He would later. Later. Later when Dahlia showed pictures of both herself & her father in the East LA walkouts, backing up people back home. Backing up friends. Backing up family.

And again at the Chicano Moratorium.

One of the few Zeppelin gigs she had missed she missed on purpose, flying into LA to take part while they did a gig. She headed back to East LA where her family had moved back to by then. Ready to support. To protest. To be heard. The pics she later showed them showed them looking hopeful. Proud. Expectant.

That was before, due to unforseen circumstances, things went left that day. Dark. Deadly. Black.

As soon as he heard, Pagey was on the phone. Peter too. As soon as he heard from Dahlia herself - thankfully safe at home & able to take the call - that she & her family were fine, Pagey had her fly back out to meet them on their next stop on the next available flight. Pagey had her in his arms. Locked in his room with him. Grant assigned them - her really - a bodyguard, under his, Jimmy's & honestly everyone's agreement.

Saying another silent prayer for Ruben Salazar, the one casualty that day, and any others affected, Robert decided to shake the darkness from his mind.

He allowed himself to be pulled back into the light.

Pink light.

Raspberry light.

Strawberry light.

Warm light.

Her light.

He saw his teen self in his mind's eye as he was then at the presentation. Gawking at the pictures. She was bleeding beautiful. Two years younger than him. Where did they make birds like that? Brains and beauty. Dusky skinned determination. Heaven-sent & hip as hell. LA? East LA? Right then and there, he pledged that if he ever made it to the States, he had to go there, wherever that was. Los Angeles, he knew. How far east he'd have to go, he didn't.

What he also didn't know at that time - not until much later - was just how close just such a girl was to him then. Not just such a girl. That girl exactly. For the time was spring 1967, and not only was Alberto in England.

But so was Dahlia.

Alberto, of course, was lecturing Robert & others in the north in Birmingham.

Meanwhile, Dahlia at the time - as he would later find out - was staying southward in London.

She had left the hotel room her father had gotten her, leaving her to study for a paper she was going to do on English History as he traveled about. The hotel room then stood mostly empty. Instead, she saw fit to stay with another attendee of one of her father's lectures that he'd given in London before coming up north.

A friend.

A penpal.

An on again off again budding potential love & beau.

On Shooter's Hill.

In Pangbourne.

With one who would later - now - be his songwriting partner & close friend.

Yes.

With one James Patrick Page.

There she was holeing up with him. Hitting up his local haunts with him. Scotch of St. James in between her studies. Granny Takes a Trip between corrections of one draft's grammar most likely. Giving herself to him for the first time. First of many. First of many on that trip he figured as well. Knowing Pagey. In the car if he had one. In the boat. In the boathouse. Every bleeding where in the boathouse. Again knowing Pagey, Robert figured there was hardly a surface in the place, down to the couch he sat on that first day when he came down, that hadn't been so christened that time in '67.

Granny's, the Scotch, in bed (and other places) with a dusky, driven & foreign little brunette dish. All the places Robert could then only dream of being.

Now he had his dusky brunette by way of Maureen. But she was back home with the kids. And he'd had others since then. Plenty others. Many others. He even had several around him that day.

All his focus went to only one though.

One that was off limits.

Very decidedly off limits.

The one that was closest to him funny enough.

Or as Brenton Wood sang then.

"I run after you...

Like a fool would do...

But mama didn't raise no fool...

And I should know...

That baby you got it...

That's all I can say to you..."

Brenton even seemed to see in her what he did.

"You got soul, too much soul...

Foxy clothes, the cutest nose...

The greatest shape...

There's nothing fake about you...

Baby you got it..."

But when Brenton continued, Robert felt it once again hit too close for his liking.

"My friends say no can be...

You're not the girl for me..."

Bullseye!

Try as he might to distract himself with another sip of his beer, the next song was no better.

"Just pull them little strings...

And I'll sing you a song...

I'm your puppet...

Make me do right or make me do wrong...

I'm your puppet...

Treat me good and I'll do anything...

I'm just a puppet and you hold my string...

I'm your puppet...

Your walking, talking, kissing loving puppet...

I'm hanging on a string...

I'll do anything, love you 'n' kiss ya..."

"Here…" Dahlia snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked down. A peace offering. Another bottle of beer to replace his now drained one.

Another clink.

"Cheers." She locked eyes with him, pursed lips grinning behind her bottle.

"Why won't you...

Take a chance on me...

And let me show you...

How wonderful to love can really be...

I can love you for all eternity...

Take a chance on me..."

God damn it if it wasn't Brenton Wood again summing it all up again.

"Dahlia…" He breathed her name in more of a sigh than he wanted to allow at that point. Her name always sounded like a sigh. Always. From day one. From the first day he heard it. A sigh.  A dreamy sigh. To him. From others. And most importantly from him.

"What is it, Robert?" She slid her hand over his, giving a gentle squeeze again like she had in the car. "You feeling alright?" 

That voice.

That hand.

That silken skin.

That touch.

That tenderness.

A tenderness that was always so apparent in her.

A gentility amidst her all-encompassing warmth that ranged from the flickering of a flame, dancing & playful like the mirthful light that shone in her eyes to molten, incandescent, torrid & sizzling. It scorched him. Seared him. Searing him deep within. Burned him. Burned within him. Burned him inside out. Made him feel feverish.

And again, the song playing around them said it all.

"The touch of you (baby, baby, the touches from you)...

Is drivin' me out of my head, oh, boy (baby, baby, out of my head)...

What a touch from a little hand can do (can do)...

Especially coming from you…

Turn my life all around (all around)...

I can't seem to settle down…

Oh, baby…"

"Dahlia, I…" He started before he even knew what he was going to say.

Thankfully…

Mercifully…

He was cut off before he could figure out much more to say.

Both by a random lad in an awed hush. "Holy fuck! Now there's two of them, dude! Am I seeing things?"

But no…

He wasn't…

The lad wasn't seeing things…

Because there he stood in the doorway. All six feet of PreRaphaelitic glamour. A brooding Black Irish English stallion. The dragon. The "Dark Lord" himself.

Or as Dahlia gasped, trotting over to him excitedly.

"Baby!"

James Patrick Page.

Count on him to make his entrance to a song with a twangy guitar intro.

Of course he would.

Jimmy extended his arms, welcoming Dahlia in his embrace with a smile. He hugged her tight. Warmly. Protectively. He mumbled something to her to which Dahlia nodded. Pressing a kiss to her hair, her forehead & lifting her chin, then her lips, he claimed her. Sealing it with a kiss. Or three.

And as ever, Robert was left with the unintentional soundtrack summing it up for him.

"Love...

Love is strange...

Lot of people...

Take it for a game..."

~

Hope y'all enjoy~!...

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

[deadlynightshade-and-hyacinth]

I’m Gonna Crawl

Chapter 4

The show was a multicolored blur. The bright lights sparkled and danced across the stage in candescent brilliance. The soft hues of yellow glowing around Robert’s halo. Jonesy’s calm aura glowing in orange. Bonzo, blue and vivid, his dark hair shining under the luminance and Jimmy's horror-inducing solo under hazy, purple and crimson lights. I never wavered from my spot; I didn’t want to, I was entranced. Body tingling in ways it never had, and in ways no man had ever made me discern. I chewed on my lower lip to keep myself grounded as I watched their intensity captivate the thousands of people in the crowd, watching in awe while he made love to his guitar, soft and gentle, rough and dominant.

Every song was skillfully executed, every note filled with pure, raw, unadulterated eminence. I took mental notes as I stood in an anesthetized-like trance.

“Ladies and gentlemen, John Henry Bonham!” Robert bellowed as Bonzo started his signature drum solo, before stepping off stage. Drenched in sweat, his golden curls damp and shining in the dim light off stage, padded over to me absolutely invigorated. “Enjoying the show?” He took my arm and led me to the bar where he fetched a couple of beers, opening one for me and the other for himself. “I’m absolutely parched.”

“I am in complete reverence.” I breathed. He smiled in return. I looked past Percy and saw Jimmy making his way over to us. As he walked with gusto like he owned the earth, running his fingers in his dark wet tendrils, his smile illuminating the room.

“Great crowd tonight.” He murmured to Robert as he stretched an arm to take a beer from the bar.

“Not doing your usual routine tonight?” He raised an eyebrow at him.

“I guess not.” He responded. “Pretty bird wore me out before the show.” He gave me a cheap wink, a self-satisfied smile across his smug face.

I returned the grin. “The little brunette?” My smile grew as their confusion formed. “Found her crying in the corner before the show.” I tiscked. “Shame on you, Mr. Page. If you’re going to use someone you should probably put out.” I took a swig of my beer and walked back to the stage to watch Bonzo.

“I fuckin’ like her.” Robert was shameless in his exclamation.

I found a spot beside an amp and watched the wild man pound his drums. I felt someone lightly tug on a mass of my hair as his body got dangerously close to my back. “I like chasing you.” He whispered in my ear. “But darling, just give in to me, already.”

The power I felt in this moment had the devious little devil in me running rampant. I grabbed a mass of his sweat drenched hair in my hand and pulled his face over my shoulder so my lips were at his ear. “In your dreams.” His hips twitched against me. Another involuntary and uncontrollable urge surged through me and without a thought or consideration of consequences I bit down on his earlobe, dragging my teeth across it. I released his hair and turned my face away from his.

He groaned, his hands on my hips holding me tightly against him.

I’ve lost my sanity.

“Jimmy!” One of the roadies holding his guitar yelled. “You’re on…”

Jimmy mumbled something before he let go of me and snatched his guitar from the intimidated roadie who flinched as he strode past him.

“What was that?” Percy nudged me.

“Just beating him at his own game.” I shrugged. I couldn’t take my eyes off of Jimmy and he didn’t take his eyes off me as he slung the guitar strap over his shoulder and waited for his cue.

“You know he was right earlier. He has definitely met his match.” Percy shook his head in disbelief before pinching my cheek and getting back onstage.

The band played a few more songs before Richard sidled up to me. “I’m supposed to take you to the cars now.”

“Right now?” I asked. “The show isn’t over.”

“Need to beat the crowds.” He turned and dragged me through the enormous amount of people backstage to the waiting Fleetwood's in the back drive. “This one.” He stopped me in front of the first limo and shoved me into the backseat. “Don’t leave this car.” He warned before turning on his heels and heading back into the arena.

I sat waiting patiently for about ten minutes before I heard voices approaching. I watched Percy and Jonesy get into the car behind me and Bonzo hop into another with Peter and Richard. Both cars pulled out and sped off. I looked out the window toward the stage area and watched Jimmy stride toward the car I was in. “Fuck.” I breathed. I should’ve hopped into Percy’s car before it left.

He opened the door and hopped in. “Ready.” He stated to the driver then sat quietly beside me as the car pulled out. He plucked a pack of cigarettes from the car door and took one out placing it between his lips. “Cigarette?” He offered, staring forward.

I pulled one out of the pack. “Thank you.” He lit his, then held the flame under mine.

“Anytime.” His mouth twitched. He took a drag, the smoke billowing out. “You know… Last minute changes tend to be a drag….” He murmured quietly, cigarette dangling from his lips. “This change though I find quite amusing.”

“What are you on about?” I suspired, growing vexed. What now?

“Well usually we have enough rooms for everyone working on tour with us but tonight when we get to Providence, I’m afraid we are one room short.” He finally turned his head to look at me.

“Please elaborate, this cryptic shit has gotten old, James.”

“I prefer it when you call me ‘Mr. Page.’” He bit down on his lip again, his grin never wavering.

“The change?” I pressed.

He rolled his eyes and exhaled. “Peter couldn’t get you a room at the hotel so I offered to share mine.” He grinned. “Promise I’ll be on my best behavior.” His smirk said otherwise.

“No.” I shook my head. “Peter wouldn’t have agreed to that. I refuse to stay with you.”

He gave me a look of dismay then smiled again. “Perhaps I made an extremely valid argument leaving him unable to refuse my offer.” He shrugged.

“What valid argument could you have possibly made?” There isn't a chance in hell he is telling the truth.

“Well we don’t have much time until we are in New York and time between shows is too hectic to go over every detail of what I want or…” the corner of his lips lifted into his crooked smile, “what I need from you.”

“Bullshit.” His bluff was evident. “There are three days off before New York.” It was incredible how gullible and naive he assumed I was.

“Alright, alright.” He put his hands up in surrender. “I got Richard to give the ok. Peter doesn’t know. What’s done is done, the extra room we had we no longer have.” He smirked. “He did warn you he would do anything to make us happy.” He shrugged.

“You motherfucker.” I shook my head at him.

His eyes widened. “Quite the mouth on you. I wonder what else it can do.” I folded my arms across my chest and looked forward, too annoyed to look at him without somehow inflicting pain. You can't punch him, Cali. You need this job. “Oh, come on, love. I’ll be a good little boy.” He pulled a strand of my hair.

“Fuck you.” I blurted, still staring forward.

“Only if you ask nicely.” He tried to play but I wasn’t biting. I saw him shake his head from my peripheral. “Drink?” He pulled a bottle of whisky from the door and held it out to me.

I took it without a word, twisted the top off and took a big swig. I pushed it back toward him. He grabbed the bottle, his fingers caressing mine until I pulled away. He took a swig from the bottle and grimaced slightly. “I wasn’t joking when I told you I would have you.” He murmured nonchalantly.

“And I wasn’t joking when I said, ‘in your dreams’.”

He wrapped his hand around my jaw forcing my eyes on him. “Give in, love.”

The desperation in his eyes almost made me grin. I mouthed the word ‘no’.

He gazed thoughtfully into my eyes. “You like this as much as I do.” He narrowed his eyes at the revelation. The epiphany had him reeling. His grin was genuinely childlike. And for a moment I thought I was seeing another piece of the puzzle.

“Maybe.” I shrugged and tried to pull away from his grasp but he was stronger than I was. “Let me go.” I said calmly.

He grinned and mouthed the word ‘no’.

I couldn’t help but laugh. It all felt so childish and I wondered if he too felt the same.

“Drink?” He nodded and gave me that damn crooked grin. Holding the bottle to my lips he tilted it upward. And I just let him. As the liquid entered my mouth, he slowly released me from his grasp.

His fingers traced my jawline, slowly making their way into my hair until his fingers were tangled, his palm resting against the nape of my neck. He opened his mouth to speak when the car came to a stop, we had arrived at the plane. He sighed heavily and turned away. Suddenly I felt despondent.

I started to feel that urge again, a loss of control. My hands were moving without me commanding them. I grabbed his face and held him so he was looking at me, his eyes lit up, bright and eager. “Let me do my job.” I breathed. I wanted to tell him ‘chase. me’ let me feel wanted, whole even. I don’t care if it’s in some artificial way. I want to feel your full lips against mine. I want to taste you. I wanted to feel your hands slide down my waist. Pull me by my hips… I moved my face closer to his, he sat motionless, his eyes wide, unsure.

Ground control to major tom, it looks like we’re fucked! My eyes flickered down to his lips then back to his eyes. Thoughts gone, mind blank. One moment I was in control and the next I was tracing my tongue from his bottom lip to his top. His lips parted under me; his warm sweet breath almost sinking me. I saw his hands moving toward me, reality flattening. I let go and exited the car as fast as I could.

Fucking get it together!

The cool breeze felt good on my skin. I felt refreshed, my head getting more and more clear, regaining control. I was being reckless and naive. Stupid. As I climbed the steps of the jet I looked back at the car. Jimmy still hadn’t left.

The rest of the band was in what they called ‘the club’ with drinks and food, joints being passed around, blow being cut on the table and half naked girls dancing around the unoccupied patches of space. Richard handed me a beer, clanked his against mine then wandered off.

Jonesy looked up from the piano he was fingering and grinned. “Where’s Jimmy? Did you finally kill him?” He laughed.

“Ha-ha.” Jimmy gave a simulated laugh as he walked into the room. “She wouldn’t kill me.” He stood beside me and grinned. “She likes me too much.” He pinched my ass before walking through the crowd and into the other room.

I rolled my eyes and searched for an open seat. “Come, darling.” Bonzo patted his knee. “Open seat.” He winked. I gave him a look and his face turned innocent. “I’ll be good.” He assured me. “Unlike Jimmy.” I took his offer and squeezed through the crowd and sat on his lap. “Although I can see why he can’t seem to keep it in his pants around you.” He grinned

.

“Trust me it hasn’t and won’t be coming out of his pants for me.” I heard Jimmy scoff in the other room. I need to behave. My last drink. I looked at the beer in my hand and took a big gulp.

“California, darling!” Percy leaned in. “So...” He was quite drunk and definitely stoned, his eyes red and droopy. “How’s your decision coming along?” He sloppily whispered.

I shook my head as discreetly as I could. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I whispered back.

“Just pretend I’m not here.” Bonzo was grinning at something across the room. “Excuse me, ladies.” He lifted me as he stood up then placed me back on the couch with little effort.

Percy grinned at Bonzo as he walked away then he snapped back to me and raised an eyebrow. “So…”

I merely shrugged and played it off nonchalantly.

“Oh, come on!” He was far too elated.

“Nothing is going to happen. I’m doing my job then going home.” I whispered.

He looked at me intently. “The car ride,” He held my gaze. “What did he do?”

“Nothing.” I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks.

He started grinning, his eyes narrow. “What did you do?”

My heart stopped and the lie blurted out, “Nothing!”

He shook his head as though he disapproved but his happy grin gave away the farce. “Tisk, tisk.”

I looked around the room, avoiding eye contact with him. I took another sip as I scanned the crowd.

“Looking for him?” He leaned in like a southern belle wielding the latest gossip.

I gave him an exacerbated look. “No, Percy. Just trying to avoid this conversation.”

He laughed and took the beer from my hand and took a sip. “Tell me what happened and I’ll drop it forever.” His brows wiggled.

“Why do you want to know so badly?” I giggled.

“Because I must know.” He stated, his hands on his hips. “Did you kiss him?” His eyes too intense.

“No.” I said quickly to which he narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t kiss him,” I continued, “I may have… licked him?” I forced it out under my breath.

“I’m sorry?” His head was tilted to the side. “You licked him?”

I bit down on my lower lip as though biting down as hard as I could would ease the shame. “I licked him.”

One eyebrow raised. “Where?”

“His mouth, Percy.”

He grinned like the Cheshire cat. “Good girl.”

I hope you all enjoyed another chapter of this shit show I call a fic. Feel free to let me know any and all of your thoughts and constructive compliments (the office) if you heathens don’t know.

Love you all ❤️ especially @dreamcastgirl99 for making this re-happen. You’ve ignited that spark in me and I will forever be in your debt.

[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

[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.

[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 💕

[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