#robert plant fan fic

[littlemissheavenonearth]

Since We've Been Loving You (Jimmy Page x Reader x Robert Plant)

a/n: this isn't a Def Leppard fic, but this was in the works, here's to Led-Zeppelin <3

Night fell and the darkness rushed through the windows of my small bedroom. The only light was the light from the lamp on my bedside table. I just laid on my side on the bed staring at the wall at my posters of many rock bands. I couldn’t sleep, I admit that I had some kind of insomnia ‘cause I have been getting very little sleep for quite some time now and I cannot figure out how to fall asleep. Like I used to. I was tired, but I just couldn’t sleep, ever. I could maybe shut my eyes for about ten minutes, but I would wake up immediately after. 

I was about five minutes into my “eye shutting” situation until I heard my bedroom door open. I opened my eyes again and looked at the two familiar faces standing in my doorway. One was taller than the other, he had bright strawberry blonde or more so blonde than red and he had a nice, confident appearance. The other one had dark brown hair and he looked a lot more shy than the other. I set myself up on my elbows and I smiled at my two boyfriends. We met in December of 1969, when I went to one of their concerts. I was completely hypnotized by their smooth, or even sauve movements on stage. Robert’s girly moans mixed with Jimmy’s orgasmic riffs was too much for me. So, I had to, I had to go backstage. I did and I was fairly shy when I got to talk to them. We didn’t do what you think we did. We just talked about life and our opinions about music. 

Now you may be thinking, “but they’re rockstars and you went backstage, why didn’t you..?” because I didn’t go backstage to do it, I went backstage to talk to them, to get to know them. I don’t know what you think of them, but they are incredibly sweet and gentle, might I add. I went backstage and I was a little lost, I will admit.  I was just walking around when I bumped into Robert.

“Oh, sorry, love,” He made sure I didn’t fall over, “My fault.”

I looked at him and smiled shyly, “No need to apologize,” I managed to say. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Y/N.” 

“That’s a beautiful name.” 

“Thank you!” Just as I finished speaking, Jimmy walked in. “Jimmy,” Said Robert, “This is y/n.” He pointed to me.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Jimmy.” 

“I know, it’s nice to meet both of you too.” I began to get a little more relaxed around them. 

“Y’know, we saw you in the crowd.” Robert explained, “You caught my eye almost immediately.” 

“Wow, really?”

Oh, that night was an absolute dream come true. After that we got into the show and it eventually led to us discussing our opinions about music. We all generally had the same opinions. 

How did I start dating both of them? Well, it started out with the boys inviting me to the Led-Zeppelin after party that night and I happily accepted the offer. The boys got pretty drunk and I wasn’t a drinker, so I just drank some water. Robert and Jimmy started fighting over me. I could not believe that two of the greatest rock n’ roll gods were fighting over me. They asked me to choose who I wanted to date, but to nobody’s surprise, I couldn’t choose and I told them that I could not choose. It seemed that they had accepted that answer. 

“It’s either both of you or neither.” I stated. I remember them looking at each other and then nodding.

“Both,” They responded at the same time. 

I remember that night like it had just happened, all those years ago and we still have the magical bond that we had when we first met. 

“Robert, Jimmy,” I said in my raspy night voice. 

“Hello there, darling,” Responded Jimmy as he undressed and made his way into bed. Robert did the same and they both laid on either side of me. 

“I can’t sleep, again.” I turned to Jimmy, just as Robert moved his body against mine. Jimmy laid on his back and I moved so my head was on his chest. 

“Is this comfortable?” I asked both of them.

“If you’re comfortable, I’m comfortable.” Said Jimmy. 

“Okay,” I yawned as my eyes began to close thanks to Jimmy’s beating heart. I fell asleep as Robert lightly dragged his fingers along my skin. 

“Good night, beautiful.” Whispered Robert and he gave me a light kiss on my cheek. 

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Taglist:

@jimmysdragonsuit13 @joes-sha-la-la-la-girl @ni-hao-kitty and anyone else <33

I really hope y'all liked this <3

[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~!

[thepinkwriterr]

Capricorn Season Chapter Eighteen Part Three

This chapter is just more letters! These are between Lorelei and Juniper. This one is short and bittersweet. Enjoy. 

Table of Contents 

Word Count: 1k

Dear Juniper, 

How can I describe the last three days? I can’t really… They have been so amazing… Oh, okay, I’ll just tell you. After we split the other night I went to the club that Sable said Zeppelin would be at and I met Robert Plant. 

I get so lost in those beautiful eyes, wet and wild with azure fire. I would take anything from him, a plaster touch or a fleeting meeting of lips. I only wished to touch him, to have him for the night. I didn’t care what came after. 

“Won’t you join me upstairs?” He asked in his sonorous and deep voice. 

And that accent! It makes my knees wobble. Yes, oh yes, I would follow you into the pits of hell if it meant you would touch me! 

“Sure,” I played it cool. I was the cubes of ice in his glass, clinking against the crystal glass and watering down his whiskey. I was wet watercolor begging to be smudged. I wanted his artist hands to taint me in any way he saw fit. Any addition his mastermind made would add value to the canvas of my body. 

He extended his hand and allowed me to hold it in mine and lead me to the elevator. We left the drab hotel lobby behind and got into the tin tube. We waited for minutes on end, hearing the whir of gears in bated breath. He didn’t ravage me there like I thought he would. He was restrained, by all accounts a gentleman. 

I was over the moon, tickled pink, even! I was going to Join Robert Plant in his hotel room. I couldn’t believe it! 

When we finally got to his room (which felt like a million years) he again showed his chivalrous nature. He asked if I wanted anything to drink, anything to smoke. I said no to both. I just wanted him. I wanted to skip it all. 

So I made sure he knew it. I stepped up to the bed where he sat and put my hand on his thigh. “Is this okay?” I asked, locking eyes with him. Carnal. Sinful. He was starting to get hard already. 

“It’s more than okay, Darling,” he said, refusing to break contact. Eyes and hands were close now, closer yet as he pulled me into his lap. I yelped, shocked by his strength but of course, turned on. 

I put my lips on his at once, a muted moan pouring from my mouth into his like a flow of lusty liquid. 

“This is going to be a wonderful time,” he tittered, now putting me on my back. 

Oh, Juniper, it was amazing! He was so good. He’s such a good guy. He’s so charming. It might be too early… but I fear that I may be in love again. Don’t expect me back anytime soon. I agreed to join him on tour. 

I know I skipped on rent this month, and I’m sorry. Maybe you can talk to Lavender and get it sorted out. Please don’t be upset with me. I think that I have finally found the one, found my happiness. 

With love, 

Lorelei Scanton

-

Dear Lorelei, 

Wow! Robert Plant! I can’t believe it. Well, I can believe it. You were always our blonde bombshell. It’s no surprise that he picked you. 

It’s okay that you missed rent this month. And now the months after. Sable said that if you went to see Zeppelin that you wouldn’t come back. And I knew she was right. If not for Robert, for another. 

I am happy for you. I just don’t want you to get into something like what happened with David. Make sure he knows your heart is sensitive. That you’re sensitive. 

I’ll miss you bunches. I mean… you were such an integral part of the scene. I didn’t wanna tell you this, but Ritchie said he misses you. He told Regina and Thomas, who told Pearl, who told Lilac, who told me. I didn’t say anything while you were still here because I thought it would make you stay. Town is gonna suck without you, but you’ve got to find your happiness. 

Ritchie was an asshole, and David didn’t know what he had. Now you have Robert, who I’ve heard treats his women amazingly. Just don’t get too attached, okay? Please come back to us in one piece. Zeppelin can get crazy. 

Your friend, 

Juniper Lane 

Dear June,

I know it’s scary. I am scared. After what happened with David I thought I was never going to do this again. I promised myself I wouldn’t. I was going to lock my heart away in a cage. I looked myself in the face and promised myself that I wouldn’t ever go through what David put me through. 

I know I am so stupid. He probably has a girlfriend back home, or a wife, maybe even children. David had a girlfriend and kept me like a dirty secret. I know you know how that feels. I know Ginger broke your heart the same way. But with David… I really fell. I thought he loved me. He fooled me. He never meant a moment of it. 

But could you blame me? Who brings someone to Paris if they don’t mean it??? He was so perfect. He spoke French to me. He told me how beautiful I was in multiple languages. How could I not fall in love with that? 

I remember one night we were in the hotel and he told me “if I could eat anything I would eat you out” in French. That would make anyone swoon! I still can’t believe I don’t have him. I think there will always be a part of me that misses him. It’s pathetic and moronic, but it’s true. 

He wasn’t my first love, but he captured me in a vulnerable time. He hooked me for such a short time, but it’ll always be crystalized as an important time in my mind. After the devastation of Steven, I didn’t think I’d ever love again. And then again after David. I guess this is just what happens. You get hurt and you move on. You have to dust yourself off and get over it. 

So now I get to spend a few months with Robert Plant. And who knows what will happen? Maybe he’ll take me back home and this time… it’ll work. Maybe this time it’ll be real. Probably not, but doesn’t that sound so nice? 

How are you? How’s the house? I look forward to you telling me. I know this letter will take forever to get back home. Well, maybe a few days. But not as quick as a phone call. But I don’t want to take the phone from any of the guys calling home. 

This scene is crazy. Everyone… and I mean everyone, is always partying. Even the roadies are getting head in the clubs! Jimmy is really broken up about this girl he has back home. I guess they were pretty serious before he came out here. Robert said he hasn’t slept with anyone else this tour. I’m shocked! This Gwen girl must be pretty serious. Must be pretty special. She’s so lucky. 

Tell Lavender she can keep whatever she borrowed from me. I know she has my black platforms. I won’t be home and she’ll take them with her anyway. I must kiss them goodbye! 

Love, 

Lorelei Scanton

-

Dear Lor, 

I’m happy that you’re opening yourself up again. But this does seem really scary. You know he has a wife. You know he’s not going to take you home. You know he’s no good. He’s a rockstar. No matter what you think about him, he’s only going to hurt you. You know where this road leads. 

I know that you were really fucked up after Steven. I mean, fuck, who wouldn’t be? Especially since this whole war isn’t over. They’re really dragging it on. 

I don’t think you’re stupid, I think you’re lonely and lost. We all are. All of the girls are lost. Lavender, Lilly, Vickie, Lexi, Diamond, me, you… we’re all just looking for something. But these men are not it. They’re just filling the void. I don’t know what your void is. Maybe it’s Steven. Maybe it’s your dad. But you need to fill it with something good if you want to stop being hurt. 

I’m sorry if that’s harsh, but it’s the truth. 

I’m good. The house is shitty, as always. Lavender and Sarah moved in. Lavender took your room and Sarah took Trixie’s old room in the basement. I think Vickie wanted your room and now she’s bitter. But she pissed me off last week so I don’t care. 

She keeps leaving her fucking dishes in the sink! We all know the policy. And she’s just disregarding it. It’s not fair. 

It’s okay that the letters take a while to get here. I like the letters. It reminds me of sending postcards to my nana when I was a kid. Gives me something to look forward to. 

I love you and I hope you stay safe. 

Sincerely, 

Juniper Lane 

-

“Are you okay, Darling?” Robert asked. 

She pursed her lips, looking away from his kind gaze. He put his hand on her back and started to rub up and down her spine, trying his best to coax information out of her. 

“I’m fine. My friend just sent me a letter. And now I’m pissed off.” 

“What did she say?” 

“She thinks I’m an idiot. She thinks I’m wasting my time with you. She thinks you’re just going to hurt me. She doesn’t understand anything and she thinks she does.” 

Robert sighed. 

“That sounds quite complicated, love. Maybe she’s just worried.” 

“I know she is. I just-”

“Is this about the David situation?” 

Now she sighed. He deflated her. 

“Yes.” 

“See, she just cares. Why don’t you give it a few days and write her back?” 

“I should. You’re right,” she buried her face in his neck. Her resolve was broken and she needed to sleep now. 

--------

Taglist:

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

[steadydizzydreamer]

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

[callmethehunter]

Look what I found in my archive! 🔥

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

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

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

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

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

I absolutely had to illustrate this excerpt from Ch 1 of

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

[stevenssticks]

Welcome to my blog!!!

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

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

REQUESTS ARE CURRENTLY OPEN.

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

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

Who I like:

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

What I WILL NOT WRITE

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

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

[lil-melody-moon]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[callmethehunter]

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

Little Wayward Girl **TEASER**

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

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

I, however, felt uneasy about this whole bet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My breath completely stilled in my throat when the enigmatic God of a vocalist scanned the room casually. And just like that, his eyes met mine.

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

[violettduchess]

A/N: This is a joint effort by myself and @thewitchofbooks who I reached out to after falling for her beautiful art. A gifted creator and a super Gilbert fan? Perfect 💜

The title of this fic comes from the well-known Robert Frost poem

Gilbert x female Reader

Holiday / winter fluff

Word Count: 1068

Obsidian is the opposite of Rhodolite. If your home country is soft, velvet roses and rolling green hills and trees staggering under the weight of the fruit they bear, then Obsidian is bushes with sharp, hungry thorns, dusty, cracked earth and trees that look utilitarian at best and menacing at worst. But Mother Nature has a secret, a way to equalize them both: snow. Snow covers the idyllic hills and small villages and gardens the same way it does stone houses, empty fields and barren trees. Snow brings beauty to even the harshest of places.

When you had stopped at the tall, arched windows and seen the blanket of white laid out before you, gleaming despite a wan sunlight muted by voluminous, gray velvet clouds, there was only one person you wanted to rush outside and experience it with.

He agreed readily, setting aside the day’s papers and letters and worries for something just as important, something vital to giving him the strength to continue with all those papers and letters and worries. Time with you.

Now you walk, arm in arm, over the soft snow, following the path that runs along the meager grain fields behind the palace. To your left looms the forest, black-barked trees with bare, spindly arms reaching for the heavens, bedecked in layers of sparkling white.

Gilbert is quiet, his red eye taking in the landscape, black boots ringed with clingy snow. You tighten your grip on his arm. If you were a snowflake, you would cling to him too, this man born of winter, whose skin is as pale and soft as the world around you. And as cold. However you know that under those layers of heavy black fabric and ornate gold and leather is a winter landscape that has trembled at your touch, melted under the heat of your mouth, and flushed at the movement of skin against skin. 

“This way,” he says, breaking the silence. “There’s something I want to show you.” Your arms unlock but his hand finds you, threading his leather-gloved fingers through yours. He leads you onto a small, narrow path that turns left, weaving its way through the trees. At first sight they loomed ominously, a vague sense of foreboding radiating from their bare branches. But now, walking through them, hand in hand, there is something that feels more akin to safety, as if the forest was sheltering you instead of warning you. 

He stops walking, raising one arm to point upwards. “There. This is what I wanted to show you.” You follow the long line of his arm up until you spot them. Nestled within the bare branches of the trees are bright green bushels of leaves dotted with tiny white berries. There is something almost whimsical about it, the vivid green amongst the dark, empty branches against the gray sky. 

“Do you recognize it?” Gilbert walks around, stopping behind you in order to wrap his arms around your middle, holding you against him. You lean back, tilting your head until it rests against his shoulder, gaze still admiring the view. There is something familiar about those plants. That vibrant green with its small bright white pearls. While you are thinking things over, racking your brain to place them, he lowers his head, his cheek pressed against yours. You can feel the smile on his face. “Really, Häschen? I thought you would know it immediately. After all….” He turns his head slightly, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “It is one of your favorite holiday traditions.”

Those words suddenly take the vague ideas swimming around in your mind and sharpen them, lock them in place to create something recognizable.

“That’s mistletoe!” Wonder fills you as you look at the beautiful green gifting the gray landscape with vibrant color. “I’ve never seen it in the wild before.”

“Mm hm.” He’s decided your gaze has been up in the trees long enough. He wants those luminous eyes on him. Sliding his hands to your waist, he turns you until you’re facing him, lips curved artfully. “And what did you explain to me one does under mistletoe?”

Something warm blooms inside you, a joy at the sultry, teasing note in his voice, a thrill at the way his hands are holding you tightly against him. You thought the green of the mistletoe leaves was beautiful within the panorama of gray and white surrounding you, but now, the jeweled red of his eye, glinting with the promise of something inciting, is the most exquisite color in sight.

“We are surrounded by an awful lot of mistletoe, my love” you murmur even as his hands leave your side to cup your face, the feel of those soft leather gloves as dear and familiar to you as his skin. The gesture, though gentle, still sings of his possessive nature. You wrap your fingers slowly around his wrists, holding him. You can be possessive too. He leans down slowly, his gaze still on you, your lips only a breath away from his. He smiles and you feel it, the power it has, the way it fills your heart and the space between heart beats. He is as essential to you as air under a bird’s wing or water to the creatures of the deep. 

“Then I suppose,” he says softly, “that one kiss will not be enough.” His voice pours molten gold into your ears and sends a ripple of warmth across your skin. 

“Probably not,” you whisper in answer. And then your lips touch, a metamagnetic force pulling you together, irresistible and inescapable. His lips are soft and cool against the warmth of your kiss. You feel the way he melts under the movement of your mouth, like snowflakes when they fall on flushed skin. Gilbert is cool starlight over a snow-covered field, the glimmer of frost when it kisses the petal’s edge. The air around you may be chilled, but the point of contact where your mouths meet is a warm spring from which love and lust are reborn, over and over again, with each and every kiss.

Wrapped up in each other, neither of you notices the soft fall of snowflakes as they begin tumbling from the smoky clouds, small, cold, feathery flakes that land on your clothes, your hair, adorning you and all that surrounds you in soft, heavenly white. 

A benediction. 

A blessing.

Artwork by the incredible @thewitchofbooks 💜 Thank you for working with me, Nadia. I am so grateful you had the time and so in awe of your talent.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @neoqueen-sailorvirgo @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart @bubblexly @joiedecombat

[houseofbabygirls]

Take my breath away

Bob gave you a reason to come home.

Robert “Bob” Floyd x GN!reader

Word Count: 3.8k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Natasha rolled her eyes and snorted at his approach.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everyone laughed and shook their heads.

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

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

Everyone laughed out loud at the statement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t believe you’re here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[theology101]

My Works Master File

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

ASOIAF

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Baldur's Gate:

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

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

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

Star Wars:

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

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

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

Misc:

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

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

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

[untilthenextencore]

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

~

~

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

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

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

A voice crooned from over ten years ago.

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

He knew who it was.

Knew what she wanted.

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

Art Laboe.

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

"Yesssss…" Dahlia hissed.

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

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

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

Perhaps.

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

She was coming alive.

Or about to.

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

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

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

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

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

Light and shade.

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

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

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

No luck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She didn't know.

But he did.

Magnet did.

Peter did.

Virtually everyone else did.

Especially a special someone.

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

The PreRaphaelitic faced, star-suited dragon lord himself.

Paganini with a pick.

James Patrick Page.

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

Peck's bad boy.

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

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

Page knew.

He knew.

He knew Planty.

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

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

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

He saw. Even when Dahlia didn't.

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

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

Prize won.

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

Robert knew the whole story of course.

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

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

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

Can always be an angel…

When things go wrong I seem to be bad…

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

Hope y'all enjoy~!...

[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

[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.

[aconstantstateofbladerunner]

Hi I just binged all of Dekugate and my god the utter catharsis of All Might telling that woman to piss off. You are a genius in terms of building tension and horror. If I may ask, what are some of the fandom rabbit holes that inspired the fic? I can’t even begin to imagine how many gross messages you had to read in order to get your fake messages to feel authentic. You’re an amazing writer as always!

Glad you had fun with it. But yeah…

Actually the “research” came before the fic. I accidentally stumbled upon the Larrie conspiracy (former one direction members Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles) about a year ago and it was just an insane train-wreck I couldn’t look away from. I later discovered a whole slew of different celebrity conspiracy cults, all of which are remarkably similar. I’ll link some articles that summarize the main points pretty well, but the gist of it is that some nefarious Hollywood/music industry forces are conspiring to keep the ships apart or hidden because their images sell better apart, but the celebrities themselves send secret messages to ‘real’ fans through things like certain colored clothing or coded social media messages. Everyone in the celebrities’ lives that the fandom likes are supporting them and the fandom with more secret messages such as liking certain things on social media, and the people they don’t like, such as their actual partners, are either industry plants or attention whores leeching off the suffering they bring by being alive in the same room.

https://www.pajiba.com/celebrities_are_better_than_you/tinhatters-unite-the-problem-with-real-person-fanfiction-and-shipping.php

https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/zanromanoff/celebrity-conspiracy-theories-harry-styles-louis-tomlinson

Notable examples include:

Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart have been secretly married since Twilight and have 2-3 secret kids somewhere.

Olympic Ice Skating Team Tessa Virtue and Scott Mior are abusing their secret child by being seen kissing other people.

Damie Dornan and Dakota Johnson fell in love on the set of 50 Shades (because their performances were just that authentic) and he’s going to leave his wife and children for her any day now.

And those are just the straight ones.  All the gay ships have the added layer of arguing that everyone who doesn’t believe in them are homophobic or blinded by heteronormativity.  And there are also non-shipping conspiracies where the primary focus is hating the partner, and saying the kids are fake or that the evil woman baby-trapped the beloved dude, the most high profile example being the smear campaign against Meghan Markle.

But the the specific thing that inspired Dekugate was the babygate in the Larrie fandom.  To be clear, all of these fandoms refer to pregnancies and births they don’t want/believe in as a ‘babygate,’ but they typically back off on the claims of the kids being dolls once they grow up.  Not the larries though.  Tomlinson’s kid is now 6/7 years old, and they still think he’s some kind of child actor whose family has been renting him out since birth to Tomlinson’s puppeteers in order to convince the straw man public that he’s straight.  Most of the conspiracy at least views the kid himself as an innocent victim of his terrible family, same as their golden boy, but for how long?  The kid’s eventual agency is a beacon of hope to some; if the reveal doesn’t come within the next year (it’s always within the next year), then once the kid is a teenager with his own social media, he’ll be the one to expose all the ‘lies.’  So what happens when that doesn’t happen?  I have seen these people eat each other over small differences in what they think Harry Styles wearing a certain ring means.  Do you really think they won’t turn on him?  Convince themselves he’s complicit in hurting their special boys, if not an outright collaborator in their suffering?  Dekugate is an exorcism of all the worst things I couldn’t get out of my head about this future scenario. 

[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 💕