#led zeppelin fan fiction

[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~!

#untilthenextencore #led zeppelin fanfic #led zeppelin fanfiction #led zeppelin fan fic #led zeppelin fan fiction #robert plant fan fiction #robert plant fan fic #robert plant fanfic #robert plant fanfiction #jimmy page fanfiction #jimmy page fan fiction #jimmy page fanfic #jimmy page fan fic #nights to remember fic

[jimmys-zeppelin]

moonbeam

ch. v

table of contents

may 14, 1998

Sabrina entered Clarence’s with a food-full plastic bag in her hand. Lunch. And she was starving.

There were still a few finishing touches she had to put on the second of Jimmy’s three suits. She wouldn’t be done with the third until Sunday at the least. Luckily, she had peace of mind in knowing he would only need one of the suits for his trip. She debated giving him a call about the status of his garments…

Perhaps it would be too much.

But he said to call, her mind urged her.

“Fuck this,” Sabrina muttered to herself. Upon entering her office, the silence was serene. The tinny Lionel Richie playing inside the store was muffled behind the makeshift partition and she hummed along to All Night Long as she unpacked her Chinese takeaway. A few loud steps boomed up the creaky staircase—footsteps she knew well as Daniel’s—and soon his tall, lanky figure appeared into the office.

She muttered a ‘hello’ to him while taking her seat at her desk. Daniel did the same, waving to her with similar regard. He had propped open a book and smacked a piece of gum between his teeth. Fresh out of university, Daniel had a degree in Textiles; something Sabrina had no idea was a possible degree path.

The irony of the situation was that he was apprenticing under her. It gave Sabrina a silly boost to her ego.

She split her chopsticks and cracked open her Coke before she began to dig in. Not halfway into her first mouthful of chicken fried rice, Daniel slapped his book shut and an uncomfortable silence fell over them.

"I heard Jimmy Page was in for a fitting?" he asked.

Sabrina froze, slowly finishing her mouthful of food while the sound of her heart pounded throughout her entire body.

She gulped, "Yeah...last week."

"Fuck. Right when I catch a cold. How was he? What did he get?"

"Three suits. I've finished two of them."

"Seriously?" he exclaimed.

"Dunno why everyone's shitting themselves about this guy. He's just a normal bloke. Very nice." And kinda hot...

"Sab, I know you like the Spice Girls and that George Michael fruit but this guy was huge back in the day. I wonder why he'd even come to our store to be fitted."

"My dad and brother buzz off rock music so I know who he is, but he's a normal person. And he's a regular here, comes at least once every week or so. Guess he likes the savings," Sabrina shrugged.

Daniel's eyebrows furrowed, "How come I've never seen him?"

"Just unlucky, I guess," she teased, a grin spreading over her face. "I gave him your card, though. Mine hadn't come in yet so I put in a good word for you."

Excitement shone through his eyes, seemingly jumping for joy while stationed in his seat, "I could kiss you right now, Sab," then paused to think. "Did he leave his number?"

"Yeah, but I'd have to find the note I made with it."

A partial lie. Sabrina had written his number into her files for safekeeping, but she had left his receipt at her flat. She could practically see it laying beside her phone, the numbers begging to be dialed and given a chance.

"When you do, I wanna call to tell him the suits are ready," Daniel stood.

Sabrina guffawed, "Why would I let you call when I've done all the work?"

"Sab, what if he answers? It'd be an honor to tell him his suits are ready to be picked up."

"You sound like my brother right now," she chuckled. "He was practically on his knees asking for Jimmy's phone number after I told him."

"Please," he begged. He stepped closer to Sabrina's desk, picking one of the three fortune cookies she'd gotten with her meal.

“No,” she answered, “When you get your own famous client, then you can call them whenever you want.”

☽

The dial tone droned through the phone's receiver. Sabrina fought with herself over whether or not to press the final number to Jimmy's phone number. A sudden impulse decision made her press the number and soon the phone began to ring.

As her palms became increasingly sweatier, Sabrina could only imagine the conversation ahead. What would he say? How would he say it? What would she say? Suddenly, she felt transported back to her secondary school days when calling her crush's phone number. Then, she felt dumb.

She shook the anxiety from her mind and when the last ring was about to complete itself, the line clicked, "Hello?" his gentle voice said through the phone. Sabrina felt her heart melt just a little inside.

"Hi, this is Sabrina from Clarence's. Is this Jimmy?" Sabrina said the message as she normally would have to a normal customer. But she and Jimmy knew that he was anything but a normal customer and their interactions were anything but normal.

"Hi, Sabrina. This is Jimmy, yes. How are you?" Jimmy asked.

Sabrina smiled to herself, a step shy of giggling into the phone. "Good, thank you. And yourself?"

"Much better now," he paused to exhale amusedly. "Are you calling about the suits?"

"Yes, actually. The black and blue suits are ready for pickup, but the green one will have to wait until Sunday. I know you said you only needed one ready for today, but I tried my best to have all of them ready for you."

"That's quite alright, Sabrina. Shall I stop by this afternoon to pick them up?"

"That would be splendid, Jimmy."

Splendid?

"And will I have the honor of seeing you? I like to thank my tailors personally after I've seen their handiwork."

Sabrina felt her heart race in her chest when he spoke, "I'll be here until four as usual."

Jimmy paused for what seemed like a check of his watch. "I should get going then..." he chuckled. "I'll have someone come pick me up and I should be there soon."

"Sounds good," she paused for a beat, "People are buzzing about your appearance last week. I just spoke with Daniel over lunch and he was very upset to have missed you."

"Maybe he can alter some other piece of clothing I should buy and he can make my acquaintance. But I think I'm set on who I have altering my clothes now."

"Oh really? Who would that be, then?"

Jimmy laughed softly, "You, of course, darling."

"Oh—" Sabrina started, overcome with a short wave of shock at his response. "You haven't even seen my work yet and you're already praising it."

"You do a great job as a cashier. And you are head of alterations, aren't you?"

"That doesn't have anything to do with the work I do—"

"It has everything to do with it," Jimmy answered enthusiastically. "Listen, I'll be there in an hour. Can you wait for me?"

Daniel's footsteps came up the stairs once again. Sabrina was relieved the conversation had been coming to an end when he entered through the curtain. He furrowed his brow and signaled the phone with his fingers, silently asking who she was talking to.

"Of course I can wait, Jimmy," she said.

"Jimmy Page?” Daniel whispered loudly, nearly jumping for joy at the prospect. Sabrina nodded, turning away from him so as not to distract from her conversation.

"Beautiful...I'll see you, Sabrina."

Her heart fluttered, "Bye, Jimmy," she said. Upon placing the phone back onto the receiver, Sabrina let out a deep sigh, collapsing herself onto the desk.

“Not fair,” Daniel complained. He let out a distressed sigh before continuing, "I need your help with a customer. Are you busy?"

☽

Sabrina stood outside in the back alleyway of Clarence’s with Conner as he puffed on a cigarette. This was their usual ritual during the warmer months when she needed an additional moment away from the cash register or sewing machine. Conner didn’t mind, he enjoyed the extra bit of conversation while not being under the managerial watchful eye. She had had no qualms about the hobby itself, but the stench of the tobacco brought back nauseating memories.

Yet, despite this, she held an unlit cigarette between her fingers to further cast the illusion that she was on a “smoke break”.

"Why are you stood out here with me again?" Conner asked, not minding Sabrina as he flicked his bright green Bic.

The weather was too warm to be with a sweater, yet too cool to comfortably be without one. Sabrina rocked back and forth on her heels waiting to see if Jimmy's car would approach; an attempt at raising her body heat.

"Needed the fresh air,” she answered.

"You're second-hand smoking off me, Sab."

"Yeah, you should really kick that habit..." she said mindlessly, still stretching her neck to peer out into the quiet street. She rolled the cigarette between her fingers nervously.

"Why? So we can stand here and look like a couple of drug dealers?" Conner laughed, inhaling and blowing the air away from Sabrina's face, only for the wind to blow it back in her direction.

Sabrina rolled her eyes, "It's not good for you. Anyway, I'm headed back in; I'm starting to get cold out here."

"Is Jimmy coming back today?" Conner teased. "I heard Daniel talking shit earlier."

"About me?" Sabrina asked with a laugh. To his nod she said, "He's just jealous because he's the one who wants to be face deep in Jimmy's crotch."

"You say that like you weren't absolutely drooling all over him the other day."

"I wasn't!" Sabrina shot back. "If anything, Jimmy's the one flirting with me."

Conner hummed in disagreement, "I think you like the older ones and don't realize it, Sab. Just be careful. Men like him have whole mausoleums in their wardrobes. And those skeletons are dusty..." he said, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"How would you know?"

"You just know, Sabrina," he insisted. "What time is it?"

She checked the time on her watch, "Nearly four. Jimmy's probably here already. I'll catch you inside,” she said, passing Conner back his cigarette.

"Later," he replied, watching as Sabrina headed back out into the street to enter back into Clarence's through the front.

Sabrina was barely in the door when she heard someone call her name from the sidewalk. Jimmy, with his hands deep in his pockets, started on a light jog so as to approach her faster.

"Glad I caught you," he smiled, the corners of his eyes scrunching so all she could see were his pupils. He held the door for her as they entered back into the store; the regulated temperature bringing Sabrina some relief.

"I thought I had nearly missed you," Sabrina replied. "I was just in the back for a little bit. Taking in some outside air."

"Long day?"

"It's been alright. Nothing too bad," She began leading him back up into the fitting area. They bypassed her coworkers who seemed not to notice Jimmy—at least for the time being.

Jimmy's suits were hung in a changing booth where Sabrina had gone to retrieve them. She gave the zipped up bags a good pat before coming into the main area. "Do you want to take a look?"

He shook his head and reached out to Sabrina for the bags that nearly matched her height. They looked much smaller in his grasp. "I trust you."

"Do you?" She teased.

Jimmy took a deep breath, his exhale making it obvious he was holding back a laugh.

"Come on, Jimmy, I just want to see if you like them."

"I'm sure I will, Sabrina."

"Please," Sabrina countered. She batted her eyelids so as to draw a laugh from him. This time she broke through, once again getting the chance to see the delicate crow's feet bunch up by his eyes and to see the shake of his head as he couldn't believe she’d gotten him. It was only then that she noted his cologne again. The combination of it with the smell of the leather jacket he wore was sure to stir up any woman's interest.

He grimaced a bit at her begging, still sure (as he had said) that her work would have been to the quality that he had expected. But just to give her the satisfaction, Jimmy unzipped the bag and examined the navy colored suit coat and eyed it meticulously.

"Just as I thought. Wonderful work, Sabrina."

Sabrina nodded. "Thank you," she paused, "You can, uhm, you can call me Sab—if you want. All my friends call me Sab." she cringed as the words left her mouth, though, couldn't reverse them now.

"Sab," Jimmy replied, testing out how the name sounded on his lips. He played with the 'B' at the end for a moment, saying her name in full before fixing his gaze back onto her.

"You got it out of your system?" she smiled.

"I'm only teasing. I'll keep that in mind."

"Have you got any nicknames?" she asked.

"Just Jimmy. My full name's James."

"That rhymes," Sabrina chuckled. "Anyone call you Jim?"

"Not anyone that I like," he answered, his eyes firmly on hers the entire time, occasionally glancing away to map out the features of her face. She knew he had spotted not only the dark circles beneath her eyes, but also the smile lines that her mother nagged her about on a consistent basis. Jimmy held an amused look in his eyes, like he wanted to say something he couldn't.

Sabrina felt that she was unable to look away from him. His face seemed to have so much to offer her: dimpled cheeks further made charming by the combination of time and weight; Adam's apple bobbing as he took in steady breaths; the soft curl of his hair swiping his forehead like an older Superman trying hard to retain his image. All combined, she simply couldn't peel her eyes off him.

"Alright then," Sabrina said, "So you're happy with the suits? They'll serve you adequately for your time in America?"

"Absolutely. Thank you very much, Sab," he replied, nudging her with his elbow.

"You're very welcome. And since you've paid, you're free to go," she said, using her heels to begin rocking back and forth again.

"Alright, so I'll see you around then. I'll come get the last suit when I come back."

Sabrina nodded, "Safe travels, Jimmy."

He gave her a small smile and nodded. Jimmy's hand came out to touch her shoulder and it was as if all the cells in her body froze. Her breath hitched softly, then was a soft squeeze of his hand. Seconds later, he was gone again, and Sabrina watched as he trotted down the steps. She didn’t move a single muscle until well after she heard the jingling bells of the front door, signifying Jimmy’s exit.

☽

Later, Sabrina had come to find out that Jimmy had left her an extra hundred pounds as gratuity at the register. Much to her dismay, she pocketed it on her way out the door. A fleeting thought entered her mind that she should give him a call and reprimand him for his tip.

Then she debated if it was even worth it. She didn't want to make it seem as if she was too comfortable around him. After all, she barely knew him. That wasn’t to say she wasn't against getting to know him better.

The Northern line train rumbled along its tracks and Sabrina idly watched as people engaged in a myriad of activities. One woman sat with her nose in a book, her presumed son seated beside her, beating the living shit out of his Gameboy. Another man stoically read his Wembley Observer; the front page reading "Bid to Oust Tory Chief", something Sabrina would have to ask her father about later on.

She was nearly asleep on the train up to Brent Cross. Her mother had insisted she come for dinner as she had cooked extra and "wanted her daughter back home", if only for one night. Sabrina couldn't deny that a home cooked meal would do her some good. She could barely fry an egg without setting her flat ablaze so she was stuck with shoddy sandwiches and cheap takeout.

The train slowed to a stop at Brent Cross station, the tiled signs becoming clearer with each passing moment. Sabrina barely wasted a second following the opening of the doors before she was on the platform and weaving through the corridors she grew to know so well.

Her father's red Volkswagen flashed its lights at her upon her exiting the station. Sabrina made a quick approach to the car, entering the vehicle to see her father's outstretched arms.

Granting him the hug, Sabrina's father hummed contentedly. "Always great to receive a hug from your child. How are you Beanie?"

"No longer a child, that's for sure, Dad," Sabrina chuckled. "Where's Zach?" she asked as the car backed away from its spot.

"Home. Your mum needed help with something or other..." he trailed off, forgetting just why Zachary had stayed at home. He waved off the question. "You been alright, dear?"

Sabrina nodded, answering, "Everything's...going."

"Your mother worries about you being in that flat all alone. I tell her you'll be fine, but of course I worry about you, too, darling."

A pang of muted annoyance hit her, but she knew he had a good point. Nonetheless, she had to dispel their worries.

"I think I might get back into dating soon...maybe I'll have someone to keep me even more safe,” she lied.

"Oh, don't tell your mother," her father breathed a laugh, "She'll ask too many questions. Plus she's still holding out hope for Shaun..." he trailed off.

Sabrina scoffed. “What for?”

“Oh, come on, Beanie. You were together so long. Don’t tell me he’s dead to you already.”

That and more. “Shaun’s a prick,” she said, unable to hold back.

There was a tsk of his tongue, "Don't say that."

It was much quieter following the stunted conversation point about Shaun. Sabrina knew that what he had done didn't deserve her forgiveness; not for a very long time. There was no way her parents would understand his actions, either. This all left her in even more of a dilemma with her "beloved" ex-boyfriend.

"Heard any good music lately?" Sabrina tried. They were nearly home free, the familiar turns of the streets she had spent her childhood and teenage years on started to flood her mind with memories.

"Just my old eight-tracks. Stones, Clapton, this, that, the other. You?"

"I don't know," Sabrina trailed off, "Not much besides the radio playing at work. CD's, the like." She shrugged.

"Oh, I have a CD you may like. Remind me to get it for you before you leave," his fingers tapped at the steering wheel in time to the bass of the song playing quietly on the radio. They pulled into the driveway.

"Yeah? Who?"

"George Michael. I picked it up 'cause it looked interesting and it was quite good. Think you'll like it."

“What’s it called?” she asked, hoping the disc wouldn’t be one she already had in her collection.

“Something like Star Girl or what have you…it’s only got a few songs on it. But it has that song you like on it, Everything She Wants. An acoustic version of it.”

Excitement filled Sabrina’s chest. She had been putting off buying the Star People ‘97 single mostly because of her inability to justify the purchase. But she had also been unable to buy it because she could never find it in any shops near her. It was a wonder how her father had managed to encounter it in the tiny shops of Brent Cross. She would interrogate further once she had the disc in her hands.

As the two entered Sabrina's childhood home, the look and feel of the place always gave her an indescribable blast from the past. The wallpapered walls were the same as the ones that littered the backgrounds of hers and Zachary's childhood photos.

The shag carpet had been freshly hoovered—meaning shoes were forbidden until the carpet was trampled over again—the colors remained the very same, if not a bit faded from time. Sabrina gripped at the long carpet with her socks just as she had many-a-time in her teenage years when being lectured at dinner.

She could already tell this visit home wasn’t going to be the relaxing break from reality she was hoping. There was something in the air. And Sabrina didn’t like it one bit.

Everyone managed pleasantries as usual, but once around the table, the atmosphere made Sabrina more uneasy.

The clinking of silverware on ceramic put Sabrina’s nerves on edge and the usual delicious smell of Yorkshire pudding was rancid in her nostrils.

"David, did you get the radishes at the market like I asked you to?" Her mother, Georgia, asked.

The adult children very well knew the answer to the question. The two merely exchanged glances, hoping to god they would be spared from a passive aggressive discussion between their parents.

David looked up from his plate. He pretended a pondering look before looking regrettably at his wife, "Sorry George, I forgot," he swallowed, "Was so excited to see our Beanie that it slipped my mind."

Sabrina's mother fixed her gaze to her instead, "Sabrina, you'll never guess who I spoke to this week."

She broke off a piece of Yorkshire pudding and thought through all the people she could have possibly spoken to. She came up empty. "Hm?"

Zachary's foot nudged Sabrina's beneath the table. The knowing look he gave her made her heart sink into the pit of her stomach. Her expression turned in an instant.

"Shaun called this week," Georgia quipped excitedly, "Don't make that face! He said he wishes you both left off on a better note."

"Mum—" Sabrina started.

"Plus, he was so keen on proposing! And you went and clipped his wings, darling. He was so upset, the poor thing."

Finding that she couldn't possibly muster a response, Sabrina stared idly back at her mother.

"Say something, dear, don't just stare at me all bug-eyed."

"I haven't quite come to terms with him myself, Mum. I still need to do some personal reflection," Sabrina answered as calmly as she could manage.

"What does that even mean?" she threw her hands up. "I invited him for dinner on Sunday. I'd better hope you'll be in attendance."

Sabrina took another beat. "I'll have to politely decline. I'm busy this Sunday."

"Oh—" Georgia said. "You'll be missed, then."

"Sab, can you pass the mash, please?" Zachary mumbled. Without a word, she obliged, transferring the heavy bowl to her brother's hands.

The buzzing in her pocket diverted Sabrina's attention. She furrowed her brow, angling herself in her seat to better retrieve her phone from her jeans. "Sorry," she said.

Jimmy Page — mobile flashed on the screen back at her. Sabrina blinked once, then twice. The name didn't budge. Eventually she stared long enough that the call dropped. It was only then that she heard her heart pounding in her ears and felt the heat rising to her cheeks.

She wondered what Jimmy could have possibly wanted from her at this hour...

“Everything okay?” her father asked.

Sabrina couldn’t help a stammer. "Sorry, it was—uhm—a colleague."

"You're red as a tomato…quite some colleague," Zachary chuckled. Sabrina kicked him beneath the table and quickly put her cell phone back into her pocket. She reached for her glass of water, downing the rest of the liquid as the rest of the table sat in silence.

The feeling of her cell phone in her pocket was now an unwelcome intrusion. Conversation carried on between Sabrina’s family as she idly sat there. Stewing.

The assumption of Sabrina’s mother that she would be enthusiastic about dinner with Shaun followed by the unsolicited call from Jimmy was the one-two punch she didn’t know would be coming her way that evening. Perhaps this was the horrible sick-to-her-stomach feeling that had welcomed her into her parent’s home just half an hour earlier.

“Excuse me,” Sabrina said suddenly. Her feet carried her up the stairs, muscle memory guiding her back to her lilac and white striped bedroom. She swung the door closed, not quite slamming it, but pushing it hard enough that the door easily clicked into place.

“God,” she exhaled, letting her breath go as if she had been holding it in for much too long. Her face was hot and she pushed her thick, dark hair out away from her eyes. Her vision clouded over and she let herself go for long enough that her cheeks became streaked with tears. She wiped them away quickly, not fully allowing herself to have the moment she so desperately needed in light of her mother’s insensitivity.

Sabrina looked around her childhood bedroom, turning so she could reach for the sticker-laden light switch. The wallpaper that had been cut around it had been peeling for fifteen years, the yellowing beginning only recently. The warm glow of the yellow light placed Sabrina back into the mid-80s. The Raggedy Ann doll on her bed, the gargantuan Wham! poster on the wall above her headboard, and finally, her vanity. Looking at it now, she kind of wanted to take it back to her flat with her. The vanity that once held dozens of perfume bottles and all sorts of makeup products was now so empty it looked out of place in her old bedroom.

She sat on the pink suede-cushioned stool, crossing one leg over the other and holding her face in her hands. Her breath was the only sound she focused on for a long while. The steadiness brought her back to a better sense of calm. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket; an attempt to better examine what had just happened.

MISSED CALL

Jimmy Page — mobile

CALL BACK | EXIT

“Why the fuck…?” Sabrina whispered to herself. Her fingers ghosted between the arrow keys of “Call Back” and “EXIT” and considered calling him back before nervousness got the better of her and she clicked away from the pop-up.

Footsteps became louder as they squeaked up the staircase, nearer and nearer to her bedroom. Silence. Then, “Sab?” Zachary’s muffled voice came through the door. “You alright?”

In a rush, Sabrina stood and shoved her phone back into her pocket. “Yeah!” she exclaimed all too loud, “I’m—I just needed a minute.”

The door opened without so much as a knock, “I told her not to say anything about Shaun, that you wouldn’t—”

“It’s okay, Zach. It’s my fault I haven’t told her what happened yet.”

“Well, yeah, but you shouldn't have to. It’s over, she shouldn’t keep pestering you about him.”

Sabrina sighed, “I know. I know…”

There was a lull, Zachary staring at the floor, not wanting to ask, but desperately wanting to know…

“So, who called you?” he asked, a smile growing on either side of his lips.

--

masterlist | playlist | ao3

taglist: @keepcalmandcarryfire @witchesdust @jonesyjonesyjonesy @paginate54 @hejustsatisfiess @salixfragilis @modernloverss @reincarnated70sbaby @rebel-without-a-zeppelin @kyunisixx @blackberryblossom @jimmypages @foreverandadaydarling @lzep @n0quart3r @verrbena-in-the-air if you want to be added to the list let me know!

#sab and jimmy are so silly !! *eye twitches* #I they're barely even romantic yet but I want to push their heads together and say 'now KISS' #zach I love u so much #probably one of my fave recurring characters #it's bc we have the same music taste #ANYWAY #HIIIII #I'm back 😈 #next chapter will most likely come much fast than this one #AS ALWAYSSSS THANK YOU ALL FOR WAITING #jimmy page #led zeppelin #fanfic #fan fiction #fanfiction #moonbeam #rock stars #classic rock #1990s #90s #1998

[letmewanderinyourgarden2022]

NEW CHAPTER

As I stepped inside, the warmth of the Inn swept over me. The ever-present aroma of birch wood lingered in the air. Muffled conversations drifted from the bar punctuated with occasional spikes of laughter and the rattle of glassware.  

I closed my eyes for just a second, taking it all in, before pushing myself forward into the reception area.  Kirk rounded the corner as I passed the desk.

“Evening, Jane.  Hope all is well.”

“Good evening, Kirk.  Yeah, it’s been a wonderful day.”

“Will you be needing anything?”

“Well, now that you asked,” I grinned.  “Would it be possible to get some whiskey and maybe a bunch of candles?”  A plan for the remainder of the evening was formulated.

“There should be some boxes of votives in the cabinet in your room.  I’ll just pop in the bar for the other.  I might be able to find a decanter for you,” he laughed with a wink.  “Preference as to label?”

“I trust your judgment.  Gonna step outside for a smoke, so no rush.  I’ll pick it up in a bit.  Thanks so much, Kirk.”

I walked down the hall to the alcove of the garden doorway.  Running my fingers over the lead of the panes, I was unable to hold back a smile.

Things are quite different since the last time I stood here.

I opened the door and stepped onto the porch under its ivy-covered arbor.  Not a soul in sight - I was alone.  After lighting the cigarette, I retraced the stone walkway leading to the back of the yard.  Pausing momentarily, I saw him, in my mind’s eye, sauntering towards me at that very spot earlier in the day.

I will never, never, ever forget that.   

Sinking onto the bench, I pulled the shawl tight around me and stretched back against the table’s edge, eyes upward, marveling at the brilliant starry night.

A perfect ending to a perfect day. . .

The calm beauty of the night sky matched the inner peacefulness that had grown over the hours I had spent with him.

So much to savor from today. . .and so much that I hadn’t bargained for. . .I’ve gotta process all of this.

I sighed as I snubbed out a second cigarette and made my way back inside.  Kirk was doing double duty at the bar and the reception desk. A tray was ready for me with the decanter, glasses, and a small ice bucket.

“This is great, Kirk.  Don’t need the ice and only one glass, but thanks,” I said sliding both items back onto the bar.   “Uhh. . .what time is breakfast served?”

“We start at seven.  The dining room is just on the other side of reception.  There’s a menu in your room and we’re happy to bring breakfast up if you want.  If you need anything at all, just ring down to the desk.  Have a good night, Jane.”

“I absolutely will,” I said as I raised the decanter in salute to him. “Night.”

As I climbed the staircase, a slight queasiness came over me insisting food now would probably be a good idea, but I wasn’t at all hungry.

Ha. . .wine and whiskey on an empty stomach, both on the same day. . .This can’t become a trend, Jane.

As soon as I entered the room, I set about the plan, disrobing as I went.  The votives were just as Kirk said.  I planted them around the bedroom, the bathroom, and on the wide ledge running along the wall side of the claw and ball foot tub. A basket of biscuits and other treats had been deposited on the desk at some time in my absence.  Finding a shortbread, I munched as I turned on the taps and sprinkled the Inn’s fragrant bath salts into the already steaming water.

Hopefully, that fixes the stomach issue. . . .

The candles were lit with the matches Kirk had thoughtfully slipped on the tray.  The illumination from the room spilled into the bedroom beyond.  As I hung my blouse in the wardrobe, the candlelight sparked off the metal clasp of the elastic band still around my wrist. Snapping it against my wrist caused a shiver of remembrance.

Mmmm. . .the thought of him!  Leaves me fucking breathless. . .and another precious item to keep.

I slipped it off my wrist, storing it in the pen box with the other memento.  After pouring myself a healthy shot, I twisted my hair up into a clip and slid into the hot, fragrant water.

Ahhhh. . . what an unbelievable day. . .

As I sipped on the whiskey, the warming effects of the liquor seeping through my body, combined with the heat of the water, lulled me into a delicious stasis.  I felt weightless.

Hmmm. . .almost as good as a joint. . .

Sliding further into the comfort of the water, I tried to recall every second of the day's events – attempting to make sense of it all. The impression of the first contact flooded back - when he grasped my hand with that very subtle caress.

He truly is the most sensuous man I have ever met.

I cataloged back through my prior relationships – from the very first encounters to the most recent one.

Yes. . .he is.  That should have been my first clue. . .mmmmm

It was amazing how quickly he put me at ease in the garden. His descriptions of the experiences he was willing to share, the breadth of his knowledge, and his subtle innuendos took our conversations on tangents I didn’t expect.

I just really like him. . .being with him. . .so easy to talk to. . .mmmm. . .and more to come tomorrow. . .so not like I thought it would be. . .

As the aroma of sandalwood floated up from the water, my mind focused on the more sensual parts of the day – the soft, beguiling tone of his voice, his hand in mine, his touch on my wrist. . .on my thigh. . .the strands of his hair gliding across my fingers – all of it overwhelmed me. 

What will it be like. . . would be like if. . .

Under the water, my fingertips glided slowly, in swirling patterns on my skin, as I imagined they were his. In my weightless state, I could almost see him, feel him, there with me. I reveled in the heightened awareness for a few moments before abruptly stopping myself.

Nope. . .not gonna do that.  No fantasy it before it happens. . .if it happens. . .at least not tonight.

I grabbed the glass from the ledge and took a long sip, before returning it to the shelf and sinking even further into the water.

I think it’s gonna happen. . .

As I tried to turn my thoughts away from that possibility, the prickly rush from earlier in the evening flared into my thoughts – that disorienting feeling. A whisper in the very back of my mind, barely detected, seemed to chant it was a truth - that it was not strange my hand lightly grasping the curve of his waist seemed as if I had done it hundreds of times before and. . .a familiar warmth under my hand. The flare turned into a whirlwind of some emotion I couldn’t grasp.

How is that even possible??. . .that. . . that. . .I’ve felt that before. . . the intimacy. . .my hand holding him like that.  What the fuck!

I could make no sense of the burning now felt deeply to my very core.  The walk back along the river felt comfortable and right somehow - yes - but that kind of connection – the recognition – not possible.  The remembered confusion from that moment on the Thames path turned into the same serenity that came over me after the dream that triggered this whole adventure.

 I just don’t get it.  It’s good. . .I think. . .but at the same time, don’t overthink, Jane. . . .

It was time to check in with my ‘means of divination.’ I rose from the bath and hastily threw on a terrycloth robe from the wardrobe.  The candles from the bathroom were transported to add to the light in the bedroom.  Jimmy’s note was placed in the center of the bed with my shawl from the day spread over it.  I eased the cards from the velvet bag onto the scarf.  After focusing on the deck enclosed in my hands, I slowly laid out the spread.  The order of the cards caused me to take a quick, deep breath.

No fucking way!

The Empress, the Tower, the Lovers, the Fool – all were set in very, very, interesting but perplexing positions. 

I have no freakin’ idea what this means exactly. I have never met him before now. . .I must be misunderstanding. . .but that feeling from earlier. . .familiar but unfamiliar. . .what is that?

I fell back into the pillows trying to reason through what the cards communicated.  The effects of the bath, the whiskey, and jet lag all converged at once.  Sleep insisted I succumb to it. I returned the cards to the bag and blew out the candles, placing the scarf and the note on the bedside table.

As I snuggled into the bedcovers, the windows rattled ever so slightly with a change in the calm of the night.  Outside the window, a faint whistling of the wind blended with the angrily rustling leaves to serenade me.  The sound of the wind always comforted me and it helped to settle the percolating questions popping up in my head.  As I drifted off to sleep, the words from my letter to him ran through my thoughts.

“Hmm. . .yes,” I sighed.

Che sera, sera, Jimmy.

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

Jimmy was pleasantly consumed with thoughts of Jane on his walk up the High Street to Deanery Gardens. He entered the code into a pad fixed to the brick arch of the doorway and entered the quiet security of his home.  He closed the door behind him, rambling, preoccupied, down the entrance hall through the moonlit courtyard and eventually to the kitchen.  After pouring a glass of wine, he traveled on through the great hall and into the garden, finding his favorite spot on the terrace.  His destination was a simple, wooden garden chair placed so he could survey the lawns, flowers, shrubs, and trees perfectly located throughout the very large walled garden. As he sipped, the faint scent of lavender could be detected in the breeze that was rising.  It triggered a distant memory – a planned adventure – forgotten over the years.

How strange that comes to me now.

He considered the details he could recall of the resurrected plan as he waited.  It was the perfect time of evening and of year for a phenomenon to appear in his garden.  He was not disappointed.  As he leaned forward in the chair, faint points of light twinkled intermittently in the far corners of the view before him.  Rising from the chair, he stepped to the edge of the terrace stairway as the glimmering points in the corners melded across the border of the distant garden wall. The wind had changed, picking up a force that whipped his still unbound hair around his face. Through the trees swaying in the gusts, the lights, now merged into pulsing blossoms of amber-green, seemingly levitated in air.  He smiled at the sight of them and in the periphery, of the dark-bottomed clouds speeding past the waxing moon. He took a slow, deep sip from the glass noting the omens of the night before turning to reenter the silent manse with a determined smile and gait.   

He walked directly to the study, which was cast in a yellow glow emanating from the flames in the brick fireplace that faintly illuminated the high-ceilinged room.  He paused at one of the bookcases lining the walls taking from it an ornately carved and inlaid wooden box.  Settling on the sofa before the fire, he focused on the box placed in the center of the low table in front of him.

Something to be discovered, I think. . .why has she sparked such. . .consternation. . .

He pulled the object toward him and carefully pushed the buttons arranged on its sides in the required sequence.  Once opened, it revealed old friends waiting until they were needed.  He took the deck from the box and considered what he hoped to discover.  Slowly and deliberately, he arranged the cards in the pattern, pausing after each placement to understand its effect on the rest. When he was done, he leaned back to consider all that was before him. 

Well, well. . .much to explore. . .and. . .maybe it is the time

He carefully returned the cards to the box and the box to the bookcase.  Grabbing his empty glass, he found the bottle left on the kitchen table, swirled its ruby liquid into the glass, and gravitated to the windows of the great hall that rose from the floor to the high-timbered ceilings. He looked out over the garden once more.  The wind had died down considerably and the green blossoms of light had started to fade.  He slowly sipped the wine and accepted several realizations that had been cemented by the events of the day.  He couldn’t repress the smile rising from the multitude of emotions he felt.

Che sera, sera, Lady Jane.

Title Image - Beauty and the Birds at Night by Duy Huynh

Deanery Gardens (all pre-Jimmy ☹)

The Courtyard

The edge of the Terrace walkway

Portion of the Garden

Puzzle box example

CHAPTER LIST - https://www.tumblr.com/letmewanderinyourgarden2022/701210499738714112/chapter-list-let-me-wander-in-your-garden?source=share

#jimmy page fan fiction 2022 #jimmy page #zoso #jimmy page fanfiction #silver fox jimmy #old man jimmy #led zeppelin fanfic #let me wander in your garden-chapter nine #lmwing 22 #let me wander in your garden 2022 #let me wander in your garden 2023

[n0quart3r]

for my people who like a bit of submissive jimmy, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE read Babe I’m Gonna Top You on Ao3. you will not be disappointed

#led zeppelin #jimmy page #ao3 #fan fiction #smut #sub jimmy

[paginate54]

CHAPTER ELEVEN - Let Me Wander. . .

Next Chapter is coming very soon. Here's the 'dinner' playlist - it's a long, leisurely dinner 😁 Some of these tunes have a place later on in the story.

Hope you enjoy if you listen.

@firethatgrewsolow @foreverandadaydarling @laluxea @lzep @sassybouquetrunaway-universe @jimmysdragonsuit13@jenyj89@jonesyjonesyjonesy@ritacaroline@tiny-sorceress-madz

[As always, let me know if you want to be tagged ��]

#jimmy page fan fiction 2022 #jimmy page #zoso #jimmy page fanfiction #silver fox jimmy #old man jimmy #led zeppelin fanfic #let me wander in your garden-playlist chapter eleven #lmwing 22 #let me wander in your garden 2022 #let me wander in your garden 2023

[yaggerdangs-remedy]

I've been reading this cute cottage romp of a fic called "Farm Frolics", about Robert Plant and Jimmy Page enjoying life on their plot of land with their goats Wallet and Percy, and a strange aloof kitty named Mr M. There's also a ghost and weird occult happenings and it's just such a comfort fic for me, I'll be so sad when it ends!!

Idk if the authors are here on Tumblr but shout out to AO3 writers LuxeApocalypse and bron_yr_aur for this wonderful gem of a story!! 💙

#led zeppelin #fan fiction #ao3 #farm frolics #robert plant #jimmy page

[brownskinsugarplum76]

Love Nest

I wrote this a while ago, and I swear I posted it, but for the life of me, I can't find it. There's romance with a little supernatural eerie vibe thrown in. Happy early Halloween. 🎃🦇🧡

Robert hated missing tour dates, but he needed her more. He'd moved to another hotel to escape threats from Bonzo or G. That was at least three days ago. Hadn't left the room since.

His hair was a frizzy nest of waves--he was either sweating on top of her or pressed into the bed by her roughshod riding. Somehow her Afro still looked amazing.

She was impossible. Insatiable. Him, too. There was something about her… Something he couldn't get enough of. It was like poison, slowly driving him insane. It was all he wanted anymore.

Her kiss… That’s what it was. She was kissing him now, on his neck. She had an obsession with his neck, it seemed. Her velvety lips always found their way there. She’d found a spot that drove him wild. It was an unusual sensation, with the tiniest hint of pain once her full lips hit his skin. The needle prick sensation was soon forgotten, as he went dizzy every time she graced the area. It was slow, sweet torture. He’d never experienced anything like it.

As she kept kissing him there he thought back again to how they met. It was a movie that wouldn’t stop playing in his mind, a sexy, mystic fever dream.

It was her eyes that were his downfall. She was in the lobby after their first night in LA. He’d returned after the concert and was mid-sentence with Jimmy when he felt a sensation like he was being watched. He stopped and stared at her, made a hasty apology to Jimmy, and strode over to her with his usual long-legged gait. Her smile lit up her face, but her wide hazel eyes were more inviting. Almost hypnotic.

Ann was her name. Medium brown skin, long legs on display, thanks to her fitted black lace minidress. She wore strappy sandal heels. Her toenails were painted red, the same red as on her long fingernails and lips. She was stunning. They sat and talked about music and the wonders of the city. Somehow she'd teased out his life story. He’d have said anything to keep her intense gaze trained on him.

She seemed especially interested in his Romani blood, which he proudly declared was the source of his luscious mane. She laughed knowingly about the difficulty he said his mom had with her thick hair. He regaled her with stories of his ancestors' presence in England. From there, they somehow got to discussing Romania and vampires. Robert quickly exhausted his knowledge on the subject. The undead were more Jimmy’s area of expertise, he admitted to Ann.

Ann didn't mind one bit. She glanced at Robert and wove her fingers into his hair. A hand trailed down to his neck; her fingers were cool to the touch while his skin was flushed with the usual anticipation of coupling.

He could feel a vein throb against her hand, as though she was summoning his body to her will. He gazed into her eyes and knew he had to kiss her.

Much of the rest of their time together was a blur of intertwined limbs, damp skin on skin, moans, both lazy and frantic, and dreamy climax after climax. It felt like the time he and Jimmy had tried opium in the Far East, hypnotic pleasure that obliterated time and space.

While he was lost in his thoughts she’d moved from his neck to his cock, which twitched in anticipation of her warm, sinful mouth. She drained him again with wanton expertise and traversed his firm body to his neck again.

***

Robert woke up to a dark room, not sure if it was day or night. Ann had insisted on keeping the shades drawn, which was fine at the time. But now he wondered what day it was and knew there would be a manhunt for him if he stayed with her much longer.

She was sleeping soundly. He walked to the bathroom and turned on the light. He glanced back at Ann, who looked serene. Robert felt worse than the first hangover he’d ever had. He couldn’t understand how energized she seemed during their time together.

He closed the bathroom door and stared at his mirror image. His eyes were heavy, Acapulco Gold-style. What was a five o’clock shadow a few days ago had filled in a bit more. He hadn’t grown a beard in years, so the beginnings of one was an odd sight.

But what startled him most was the color of his skin. He knew he was sporting what he called his English tan, being less golden after time away from the States for a few months, but he seemed especially pale. He decided to order a double helping of breakfast for himself, figuring he needed to regain his strength after the extended tryst.

Then he noticed a dull throb on his neck, where Ann loved to kiss him. He swept his hair out of the way and noticed two marks that looked like mosquito bites that had been scratched raw. Only he couldn’t remember scratching himself. It was weird, he thought.

He washed his hands and prepared to leave the bathroom. But before he turned out the light, he noticed Ann sitting up in bed. Her eyes danced at the sight of him and her smile was large. His mind was playing tricks on him, because her smile looked unnatural, like fangs alternated with some of her teeth.

A faint twinge of alarm intruded in Robert's thoughts, but Ann's beckoning finger caused his manhood to stiffen again as he walked the short distance to the bed. He couldn't resist another go.

#robert plant #classic rock #Led zeppelin #fan fiction #Brownskinsugarplumlibrary

[thepinkwriterr]

Capricorn Season Chapter Sixteen Part Three

We are joining Gwen back in Pangbourne. Jimmy has finally returned! Chapters will go back to regularly scheduled posting. Enjoy!

Word Count: 6.5k

Table of Contents

She finished the dusting with one final swipe and smoothed down her sweater. She walked from the living room to the kitchen, surveying her handiwork. The carpet was vacuumed, the first floor was dusted, and the dishes were done. The house smelled like vanilla and laundry detergent.

Lucy jumped on the counter and sat beside her busy hands, tail swaying as she cut a watermelon. The long silver knife glided through the grainy meat of the melon and slid out with a squelching sound as she went to the next section. She sliced the red body, producing a long and thin strip. She worked until the chunk was free to slide into a plastic bowl. Pink sticky juices pooled under and around the ridges of the bowl, creating a mess Lucy was impatiently waiting to slurp up. 

The sun was brighter this day than it had been all month. Streams of white light trickled in through the sliding glass door that was positioned between the living room and kitchen. Sallow shapes sat on the counter, created by the curtains that framed the kitchen window. 

She looked out the window as time slipped by. She couldn’t tell if two minutes or hours had passed. The days all seemed to melt together, molded only by the monotony of waking and falling unconscious. Even work was stilling into a boring chore. 

The only chip in her tedious tasks was Lucy, who was brushing against her legs. The familiar tickle broke her from the staring spell. She looked down at the pile of partially cut fruit and sighed. She’d made a mess. 

It wasn’t long before a car pulled into the driveway. Gwen hadn’t finished dicing the pears before the front door opened with a creaking welcome whistle. She made her way to the hall to see Jimmy. 

There he was, standing before her, and now he had a beard. A beard! She couldn’t believe it. His face was soft and round as always, now complete with a thick tangle of facial hair. His eyes were clear and tired, a dichotomy that created an innocent look. He looked so dapper.

He stripped the scarf from his neck and hung his coat up. Then he was left in his sweater. Before she could say anything more Robert was trailing in behind him. 

“Gwen, hi,” his voice was soft and round and filled the hall. He too had a patch of facial hair growing in, but his was blonde and short, much shorter than Jimmy’s, “you look ravishing. Love that sweater on you, dear. Do you have any tea? And the bathroom, I need it.” 

“Hi,” She smiled and stepped closer to hug him, “yes, we have tea. I’m finishing it right now. I can’t believe you guys are back. It feels like it’s been an eternity.” Her hands brushed against the smooth material of his coat. It was soft and pleasant as his presence. 

His hands were on her arms. He hadn’t taken his coat off yet. It was puffy and made of patterned fur. It looked a bit ridiculous but she thought he made it work. “It does seem that way, doesn’t it? Especially since we’ve seen each other.” 

“Yes, exactly.” 

He flashed his leatherette smile, thin and cheesy, but stunning nonetheless. “But the bathroom, love, where is it?” 

She laughed. “The one on this floor isn’t working right now. You can use the one upstairs between our bedroom and the spare room.” Her words sent him up the wooden stairs, each one creaking under the weight of his bounding step. 

"Is that my sweater?" Jimmy asked, his eyes fixated on her with a sweet glaze. She smiled, her lips pressed together and drawn into a plump line. Her cheeks were tinted pink. "Yeah. I missed you and it smelled like you." He grabbed her hands and held them, looking at her eyes. Her pupils were wide, the black circles drawn to the edges of her irises like curtains framing windows of golden light. Her cheeks were pink like roses, her lips were Christmas poinsettias he waited all year to press his hands into. They hid away in the hall, the only light came from the window on the front door and a candle on the table beside them. Wax dripped from the mouth of the white glim, collecting in a puddle around the bottom. The droplets hardened before more could fall. The warmth from her hands and smile were melting him too, and now he flowed from her soft frame like wax. He was gathered in a pool at her feet, staring up at her shining face. "I missed your scent too. Your hair smells so good. And your skin... I don't know what lotion you use, but it smells so good. Like home." She giggled. "We should get back before they start to wonder where we are." "Or," he took his hands from hers and rested them on either side of her face, "I could do this for the time in weeks." He kissed her, gently and sweetly. She swooned. Oh, how she had missed the feeling of his lips. He was such a good kisser. Now she was a waxy puddle on his patent leather loafers. When he was finished, pulling away only to breathe once more, she wrapped her arms around his torso. She lay her head on his chest and breathed him in. Not just his scent, but his esse. He had such a pervasive quality about him. It was tangible, she could consume it. He turned to walk away but she held on, stopping his movement. "Shall we get back?" "I just want to stay like this for a little bit longer. I've missed my Jimmy." "I can't say no to that." He embraced her, clasping his hands on her back, and rested his head on hers. They stood in the hall for what seemed like an eternity. They had returned to the place where only they existed. God shook the contents of the Earth from the grassy bulb and left the lovers to lie in their regard. They apparently had been hiding away for too long. Their guests had begun to look for them. Robert asked the girls where they could be and Carmen took it upon herself to lead her parents to the two. "There you are. We were wondering where you'd gone off to." Robert smirked in the pallid light. Jimmy and Gwen separated, feeling caught. Like two teenagers, they stood away from each other and looked sheepishly at their friends. "It's a good thing Carmen is such a good detective. Who knows if we'd ever find you two if she hadn't been here." The baby smiled at everyone, content with her father's praise. She had inherited his love of the spotlight. Just as he, she never tired of hearing a stream of good words about herself.

-

She went to the kitchen to start the tea. She rifled through the cabinets to find the box of Yorkshire Gold, the tea that Jimmy always served. She remembered seeing the box on the counter the day his mother stopped by. The visit wasn’t very long but Gwen stayed upstairs all the while. Jimmy never told his mom she was there. 

He’d told her about Gwen, how deeply he felt about her, and shoving her away upstairs made him feel awkward. He felt like she was a secret. He didn’t want to share the love he’d found, he was afraid of it being tarnished. His mother could tell something was off but she didn’t comment on it. Patricia was a deep and intuitive woman, two qualities she passed on to her only child. 

Gwen found the box as the kettle began to squeal. She put it on the counter and swiveled around to move the metal pitcher off the hot burner. She’d never used a kettle before she met him, he turned her onto the ways of British tea and the tradition of preparing a tray for guests. It was fun, it was something that she felt was always missing. She liked to take care of people and this was a suitable way to do so. 

She couldn’t find the sugar bowl. She remembered washing it last week when she did the dishes, but it was nowhere to be found. Her hands searched around the countertops and cabinets to no avail. 

She reached into the cabinet next to the fridge and felt around on the second shelf, teetering on her tip-toes and slapping her hand against the wood. Then she ducked down to the compartment next to the stove and looked into the dark expanse. What she was looking for wasn’t there either. 

Before she could pull her hair out he appeared. He watched her mind work for a moment as he leered in the doorway. 

“What are you looking for?” 

“Oh fuck!” She turned to look at him, hands grabbing at her chest. “You scared me.” She was smiling now as he strode to her. She stood to meet his height. 

He put his hands on either side of her face and kissed her, deeply and fully. He hadn’t felt her lips on his in two weeks and it was far too long. He missed the way she smiled against him. He missed her hands reaching under his shirt to scratch at his skin as their connection lingered. He missed the smell of her on him. 

“I missed you,” She said. 

She was looking at his eyes, feeling their intensity once more. Today they were full of admiration, hope. They were round and shining like freshly polished store-front windows. The green was light, almost mossy, an effect brought on by the sun filtering in through the windows. 

“I missed you too.” 

She fell from his spell when she saw his eyes shift to the counter. He saw the kettle, box of tea, and cups. The tray lie on the table, where it stayed for a week collecting dust, and the cream was in the fridge. He smiled. 

“You’re preparing tea.” 

His accent was smooth like butterscotch, soft like fresh linen. He was breezy and gleeful. The sunlight agreed with him. The vacation had soothed him. 

“Yeah, and I can’t find that fuckin’ sugar bowl. We’ll just have to put honey in it or something. Maybe I’ll just pour loose sugar into everyone’s hands and they can lick it with every drink.” 

He shook his head with a chortle. He beelined for the pantry. He remembered that she put the sugar bowl with the corning ware last time he was home. Lo and behold, there it was. The round, white dish was adorned with red roses and a heavy lid of the same design. 

“Treasure at last!” He cried, swinging his arm forward to reveal the sugar bowl. He pulled the diadem from the cavernous depths of the slender pantry and lay it out bare before her eyes. 

“You’re a lifesaver! Now help me make the tray.” 

They stood together and loaded the tray with everything they needed, right down to the matching china set. He was very precarious about little tchotchkes and trinkets. He liked anything porcelain and old, everything charming and matching. This particular set was from the mid-1800s. He bought the set at a thrift store with Miss P. in San Fransisco, back sometime early last year. It had four cups, two plates, eight saucers, a teapot, a sugar bowl, and a cream pitcher. 

He sounded like the kettle when he found the set. It was a dream and for a great price. Even Pamela was surprised to find such a steal. She had a good eye for second-hand items, she found a plethora of dresses, hats, and shoes in thrift stores. She even bought a few scarves for Pagey that he still held on to. He was a sentimental man and cherished a nice gift. He never told Gwen the scarf she wore to the train station was a present from another woman. 

He was careful with the set on the plane ride home. He wrapped each piece neatly in his clothes and placed them in his carry-on. When he brought them home he washed them carefully. He set them out on the counter to admire for the two weeks he was home. He thought about them often when he was away, imagining the set sitting in the pantry, waiting for him when he returned. 

They made their way to the living room. He carried the tea tray, partly for the chivalrous nature he possessed, and partly for the guilt he felt over the train station scarf. 

“There’s ‘ole Pagey, always the gentleman.” Said Robert. 

“More like a housewife,” Gwen commented. 

Everyone laughed and he set the tray on the coffee table with a grumble. The cups and plates rattled as the silver tray settled against the tabletop. Then Gwen spotted the toddler. 

"Oh my God, that is the cutest baby I've ever seen!" 

She ran to Carmen, surrounded by toys. She slapped two blocks together, seemingly unbothered by Gwen's presence. Her hair was tousled and wild from the nap she’d just woken from. 

"Hi there, I'm Gwen. Can I play with you? I love blocks!"

The small child looked at her with bemusement. She nodded and put a purple block in Gwen's hand. 

"What are you building? Can I help?" She looked at the child with the softest expression she could conjure. Her voice was pitched up and slow. 

Carmen nodded again and put another block in her hand, this one blue. She pointed to the small tower she had built, rather it was three blocks stacked on top of each other.

Gwen thought it must be wonderful to be so small, to have the world at your feet and no responsibilities or troubles. Just blocks and nap time. What a life... 

"How many can you stack?" She asked.

"Four."

"That is four, good job! You know your numbers. Much better than me. I can only count to five," she grimaced.

"That's good," Carmen murmured, a smile on her face. “Five is good.” 

Gwen laughed, her heart lurching with happiness. Carmen’s blonde hair and sweet nature reminded Gwen of her little siblings. It had been far too long since she'd seen them and she felt happy to be around a baby again.

"Do you want the red?" She asked, moving a pile of red blocks toward Gwen.

"Yeah, I like the red. Do you?"

"No."

"Why not? I think red is a fine color. Do you like purple better?"

"I like blue."

"Yeah, blue is a nice color too. Do you think it looks better if we put three of the reds and then two purples on the tower?"

"Blue."

"Okay," Gwen said, putting another block on the tower. It was getting tall now and began to sway.

Jimmy looked at his girlfriend, who was sitting criss-cross on the rug. It warmed his heart to see her and Carmen. He thought about what she would be like as a mother, an idea that passed briefly and without his permission. He shoved it away as quickly as it came. 

He turned to Robert and went back to talking about the album. His voice faded into Jimmy’s ears, a steady drum that was interrupted and caused a staggering beat. 

"-not really true though, I think your playing on That's The Way was fine. Do you think-"

"That's what you might think, but it could be better. I don't expect you to have a good ear for that sort of thing." Jimmy steamrolled Robert’s point. 

"You always tell me when you think I can do better," he grimaced.

"That's because you're a singer. Everyone can sing."

"What's that supposed to mean?" His tone turned sharp at Jimmy's words. 

"Nothing, I just meant-"

The tower had fallen. It landed with a clinking sound as the wooden blocks fell on top of each other. It was a mess of colors and shapes. 

"Oh no!"

"No, the tower!" Gwen said, picking up the pieces with haste. "Do you want to rebuild it?" She petitioned. 

Carmen tossed aside a handful of blocks. Her sights were set on something better. “No. I want to play with Peaches.” 

"Peaches?" She asked, looking at Maureen and Robert.

"Oh, that's her doll. Hold on, I'll get Peaches for you, baby." Maureen dug around in the diaper bag for a moment, cursing as her hands searched blindly. She produced a cloth doll wearing a pink dress and matching bucket hat. Red shoes and yellow yarn hair accented the doll's plain face. 

"Peaches!" Carmen was up from her spot on the carpet and ran to Maureen. When she reached the edge of the couch next to her mother's feet she latched onto the toy. She wrapped her arms around it, nestling her face into the soft body of Peaches the doll.

The four watched as Carmen found her spot on the rug and began cooing to Peaches. She ran her hands through the doll's sparse hair and rocked it in her arms. Gwen once again swooned over the cuteness of the child.

"So, we got some good stuff recorded," Robert spoke up, pulling the attention from his daughter.

"Oh yeah?" She asked haphazardly. Her attention was on Carmen and helping her put Peaches to bed. She was the laziest bag of stuffing Gwen had ever met. 

“Mmm, absolutely. I think these are our best songs.” Jimmy nodded. 

“I agree. I felt so inspired there. It was so easy to write. I felt like the sunlight cracked my soul open like a hammer to a geode, and a sacred water could flow so easily. I feel… eased.” Robert spoke slowly and fluidly, charismatic and whimsical as always. 

“Wow, it sounds like you guys had a good time,” she said. She looked at the two of them, their crossed legs pointed in the direction of each other. They were smiling, smitten at their achievements. She thought they looked like an old married couple. 

“Oh, it was wonderful! I only wish you had come, darling.” Robert sighed, theatrical as always. 

She smiled. “Yes, yes, it’s such a travesty that you got to make and record your wonderful music unimpeded by lil ole me.” 

“What about you, Maureen, did you have a good time?” She asked. 

She was surprised Gwen had asked. “Oh, yeah, it was great. Except the outdoor toilet!” She glared at Robert, still pissed that he hadn’t told her about it before she agreed to go. 

He pursed his lips to hide his smirk. “I’m sorry, love, but it was for the greater good.” 

“Outdoor toilet? Wow, you guys were really roughing it.” 

“Yeah, there wasn’t a shower or any hot water either,” Jimmy commented. 

“I know! You told me about it in your letter. That sounds awful, I would’ve hated it.” 

“Yeah… that’s why we have these lovely beards,” Robert paused to stroke his patch of blond hair, “I guess we’re just… wilderness men…” 

Maureen furrowed her brow and grimaced at her husband’s dramatization. “Oh, shut up, you complained about it the whole time. You were afraid to go out and use the toilet the first night. He made me go out with him and hold the flashlight!” She laughed with a snort, slapping the arm of the chair she sat in. 

Robert frowned. “Okay, okay, no need to share such a thing!” 

-

The conversation has stopped flowing. Gwen turned her attention back to Carmen and their game of house, and Robert was angry with Jimmy. He had dismissed his work on That’s The Way and it left him feeling sour. Maureen wanted to go home and shower and was decidedly quiet. 

The day was dragging on into the early hours of the evening. Gwen wondered if they would stay for dinner and hoped they would. She missed having the company. She missed entertaining. 

She’d spent too much time on her own. She felt like she was going crazy, possibly turning into a madwoman. It was only a matter of time before she started talking to the wallpaper and seeing figures in the molded ceilings! 

Robert sat up from the couch with a loud yawn, too loud, Jimmy had decided, and smacked his lips at the end of his inhale. His arms were outstretched but quickly fell back to his sides and he rested once more before speaking, “I’m starving! Do we have any nibbles?” 

“Nibbles?” Gwen snickered. 

“A snack? A starter? Elevenses? I just want something to eat.” 

Gwen stood and started to make her way to the kitchen with a nod. 

“I’ll come with you, c’mon,” Maureen stood from the couch and followed the redhead to the kitchen. 

The two women scavenged the fridge and pantry to create a suitable spread. Gwen pulled the chopped pears from the crisper drawer and Maureen found crackers in the pantry. 

“You know he’s thinking about you as a mum, right?” Her voice startled Gwen, who was still hiding away in the fridge. 

She scoffed. “What?” She turned to look at the dark-haired woman, confusion, and shock on her features. 

“Yeah, he totally is. You might not think so and he might not even realize he is, but he is.” 

“No, Jimmy’s not like that. I’m not like that.” 

“You can think that all you want but he is. He sees you with Carmen and his mind fills in the blanks. Magically, her hair is red and her eyes are green. The idea of baby names and toys strewn about the house has crossed his mind in the last half hour.” 

“You might think you know him but you clearly don’t,” she continued to package the fruit away and put the stack of dishes in the sink, “Jimmy and I don’t want kids and we’ve never talked about anything like that. We haven’t even been dating that long and it’s not going to be that long-lasting, I can guarantee that.” 

This woman doesn’t even know me! Does she even know Jimmy? She just thinks she does because they spent the last two weeks together. Maybe he said something to her to make her think he feels this way. 

Gwen turned to inquire about the more lurid details of the trip but Maureen was already carrying the tea tray away. She was left with the terrible thought that Maureen had put into her mind. He was thinking of the future. 

-

They left an hour after Maureen’s comment. Robert shook her shoulder, causing her to wake with a bewildered look. He scooped Carmen up with a smile and they were on their way. 

Maureen’s assertion shook Gwen. The serious Scorpio caused a stir within her. She tried her best to push the thought away but it rattled her still. She was troubled as she cleaned the dishes, a habit she was trying to implement after dinner. 

“Hey, love,” He said, standing behind her in the kitchen. He admired the way the overhead light bounced off her hair. 

She turned to face him with a smile. She was still getting used to the beard. 

He walked over to her and pushed her against the counter, pressing his hips into her. The jagged pressure from his hip bones caused a sound to erupt from her lips. 

“Awe, you missed me, huh?” He asked, his breath in her ear. 

“Obviously,” she said. 

He pulled away from her, freeing her from his grasp, “Well, I missed you,” he pushed a clump of her hair over her shoulder, “a lot. So much, in fact, I wrote you a song.” 

Her lips broke into a smirk. “A song? Oh, c’mon, can you get any more romantic?” 

“No, I really can’t.” He shrugged. 

“Well, let me hear it.” 

So he did. They sat in the living room on the couch. The room was lighted only by the fireplace. He sat with his feet propped on the edge of the coffee table with his guitar. The hollow instrument hugged his lap and began to sing as he started strumming. 

It was a light and slow song, a melodic crooning that caused emotion to swell within her. Like a cork working its way from the neck of a wine bottle, the last two weeks of emotions that were stored away erupted. She was welling with tears. 

He was much better at conveying his feelings through music. His fingertips were speaking for him as they caressed the cool metal of the strings. 

When he stopped playing his lids opened with a feather flutter to see her. Her mossy eyes were sparkling, wet with tears. She sat with hands covering her mouth. He smiled, cocking his head to silently ask what she thought. 

“I loved it, Jimmy,” she said, her hands moving to his. He put his guitar aside to meet her halfway.

“I’m glad you like it. I wrote it after you called me last week. I was just filled with such…strong emotion. I missed you so much and hearing your voice just inspired me so much. You opened something up, touched something inside me.” 

They waded into the small pub, finding their way to the counter in a single file line. Robert held Carmen on his hip and Maureen hovered beside him. Jimmy leaned awkwardly on the counter as Robert asked for the owner. 

“Hey, Rob!” The red-faced man cheered as he appeared behind the bar. 

“Mich, how are ya?” He asked, equally as excited but quieter. 

“Not too bad, not too bad. The wife here needs a rinse and Jim needs to call his lady.” 

“No issue! You can head back to the showers upstairs through that staircase over there,” Mich pointed to a narrow cubby that heralded stairs. Maureen looked unsure. “Awe, c’mon, lassie, you can do it! I promise the showers are clean. The missus’ scrubbed the tiles just yesterday. Scouts honor.” His voice was thick, his words coated in mucus and Welsh. 

“Phone is over there, help ya-self, mate.” He looked to Jimmy for only a moment, off-put by his shlocky demeanor. His eyes were dark and his facial hair was grown out oddly, by all accounts he was a wilderness man. 

Jimmy paced over to the rotary phone and stuck his index finger into the 0 hole. Then, 2, onto the 0 once more. It felt strange to dial his own number, no matter how many times he’d done it to reach her. He waited for a moment or two, listening to the dial tone, and finally caught her voice. 

“Hello?” 

“How’s the cottage been treatin’ yuhs? I hope it’s not too cold in there,” Mich spoke through a mouthful of chicken. He picked at the roast potatoes on his white porcelain plate as Robert sat Carmen on the bench. 

“Wonderful, actually. Not too cold, luckily. We’re finding it… quite illuminating. So much inspiration there.” Robert eyed his plate, feeling the burning hole in his stomach. The drive to the pub was longer than he’d imagined, he skipped lunch to record with Jimmy. His guitar-gifted friend was a frequent fan of fighting off his famished state to work and he had to follow suit. 

“You want something? Sam has just made some roast, it’s excellent.” He ignored Robert’s words to swim in the expanse of his eyes, noting their ethereal azure quality. 

“That would be great.” He put his attention on Carmen, who began to babble and spit. “Use your words, love!” He patted her back until she turned a smile. 

“What about you, huh? Are you hungreh, little lass?” Mich asked, looking down at the grinning girl. 

“Yes!” She slammed her open palms on the bar with a wet smile. 

The two men laughed. 

“You’ve got toad in a hole?” Robert asked, his hand still on Carmen’s back to ensure her balance. 

Mich scoffed. “Do we have toad in a hole? How long have you known meh?” He left his words there and went into the kitchen, coming back with two plates of breaded sausages. He sat them on the bar, two forks joining soon after. “Didn’t know if any of your guests wanted any. We have plenty if they’d like to join you.” 

“I don’t know about Mo, but he won’t partake,” Mich’s eyes followed Robert’s fork as he used it as a compass to alert the group to Jimmy. He was leaning against the wall, his hip and shoulder taking the brunt, and grinning ear-to-ear as he spoke into the receiver, “he’s trying to watch his girlish figure.” 

Mich bubbled with laughter. 

“Well, I’m just glad she hasn’t spared my feelings! I mean, she’s been on a rampage the last two days. She whined for thirty-eight minutes yesterday because she didn’t want to wear her jumper. I was about ready to scream!” Jimmy sighed into the receiver.

“Oh, c’mon, she’s two.” Gwen rolled her eyes on the other end of the line. 

“Darling, you don’t understand, she’s been a pain in my arse for the last week. I can’t stand it any longer, I swear. I know I’m never having children because this is awful. Anytime Robert tries to calm her down she throws an even bigger tantrum.” 

Gwen sighed. “She is two. She doesn’t know how to regulate her emotions so she can’t detail why she’s so upset. You just have to be patient.” 

“I just wish they wouldn’t have brought her.” He grumbled. 

“Okay, now you’re just being bitter! She’s cute, isn’t she?” 

“Oh, yeah, if you like annoying little monsters.” 

Gwen chortled. “You’re the worst, you know that?” 

“Feel refreshed?” Robert asked as Maureen sat next to Carmen at the bar. 

“Totally. Finally got to shower and get off all this nasty dirt. Carmen wanted to play in the mud yesterday and I had to tell her no. Of course, she threw a fit and ended up getting all dirty anyway. Sometimes I just want to ring her n-” 

“Phone is open to anyone who needs it. I’m hitting the shower next.” Jimmy was standing between the family, looking over Mich’s shoulder. He was surveying their alcohol stock. No Jack. 

“I suppose I should go then, huh? Bangers and mash for lunch, Jim, you should eat.” Robert patted his back and made for the staircase. 

They returned to the cottage with fresh eyes. The space felt cleaner now, with the dirt from under their fingernails wiped. Maureen was happy to have her hair washed, although it was still wet and cold. 

“I’m going for a nap. When I wake, you and me are hitting a recording session,” Robert said. 

“Right,” Jimmy replied. 

Robert kissed Maureen before going into their room to sleep. His steps were cumbersome from his tired feet. It didn’t take long for him to fall into the bed and drift off. His limbs became light and his features melted into a relaxed state. 

Maureen took a bundled Carmen out back to play with her wooden blocks and cloth-bodied doll. She had begged and pleaded all day to play and was finally receiving her wish. In the warmth of the mid-afternoon, Maureen felt it was safe to go out and lie in the grass. After laying a blanket down, of course. 

Now in the solitary confines of the silent living room, Jimmy sat in his chair by the freshly lit fire. Sparks of heat flashed off the wood of his guitar and created a balmy canvas for his hands to paint by. 

His deft fingers twirled around the strings and tried to configure a sound, but all that was heard in his mind was the echoing of silence. 

He thought for a moment, then two, of what to play. G-minor, MAJ-7, F, C6, Db. No… those wouldn’t work for the alternative tuning he had created. He sighed and sat the instrument down. 

With nothing left to occupy his hands, his thoughts wandered back to a familiar home. A mecca, his mind made a pilgrimage to the altar of his love. He thought of her. 

Her lips grew into a smile, splayed open to reveal her rows of straight, white teeth. He wanted to kiss every wrinkle and touch each line. He wished to be the reason for her smiling, wanted to be at the receiving end of the glorious sound that emitted from her happiness. 

Her shoulders bounced, dancing in a cordial display of how smitten she was. 

-

My Dearest Gwen, 

It is lovely here. The trees, the flowers, the grass… it’s all wonderful. I feel at peace. I feel like I can breathe again. You have no idea how great I feel! I didn’t realize how much tour was taking out of me until the second day of our trip. 

Robert and Maureen are interesting, to say the least. I can tell that they really love each other. It’s beautiful to see but it makes me miss you so much more. Sometimes I can still feel your hair between my fingertips, your skin on my lips. This morning I could’ve sworn my pillows smelled like you. I must be getting lovesick. 

While I am happy to be here, I can’t say I am not frustrated. I miss you and I miss our little home. The last day I was home was the best day I’ve had in months. I wish to spend all my time curled up in bed with you and Lucy, reading, making love, (of course that wouldn’t entail Lucy), and playing music. I suppose I could have my cake and eat it too if you were just with me. 

Strider and Carmen are two specimens. The former is a wild spirit with a fondness for drooling on meI almost had a freakout last week because I had no clean trousers! But he’s a good boy. He is very obedient when Robert is giving the commands. He can sit, lie down, roll over, and even shake hands. It’s very cute, but I must say that I like cats more. Especially Lucy. Carmen is adorable, but dear god is she a screamer! I was awoken yesterday from a nap by one of her tantrums. 

They left me with her today and I felt terrible. I didn’t know what to do with her. I asked if she wanted to play and when I said yes she covered my head in a blanket and ran around me in a circle. I was perplexed. But hearing her little giggles was enough. I can understand why people have children. Watching the three of them play house is tooth-rotting sweet. Robert has so much love and care for the girls, it’s a side of him I haven’t seen so intimately. 

Our relationship is starting to shift. We’re growing closer. I could consider him a real friend after this trip, I believe. I used to be closer with Jonesy, but now I feel Robert is taking that role. He’s incredibly insightful and witty, very musically knowledgeable, of course. He cares so much and knows what his limits are. 

We got into a bit of a spat when we first arrived but things are okay now. We discussed it, surprisingly. He caught me when I was a bit drunk if you could believe it! We spent that night, the three of us, drinking and sharing embarrassing stories. It was a wild night but one that ended sweetly. I was happy to reconcile with him. I realize now that I reach too quickly into anger and isolation. There isn’t a reason to be so cold. 

I hope you are having a good time at home, keeping Lucy entertained. I miss you both, as I have said. I don’t want my whole letter to be about how much I want to see you, but I can’t help it. I long to feel you once more, to have another night like our last. 

Anyway, I must end this now before I run out of things to tell you about. It really is quite boring here. No electricity. I had to do my business outside! I believe you would love it here, with all your impish hippie ways. 

Your man, 

Jimmy.

Taglist:

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

#led zeppelin #jimmy page #jimmy page fanfiction #jimmy page fanfic #Jimmy Page smut #jimbert #music #fanfiction #fan fiction #tumblr #writing #poem #poetry #capricorn season

[tiktaalic]

Blah blah blah ohhhhh deans biggest regret is not saving cas ohhhhh I have ideas about how their reunion went and how it would go on screen. And yet you have the full rights and used them to give Led Zeppelin some walking around money and send the car time traveling. Curious. You idiot. You asshole. I know one thousand fan fiction writers braver and truer than you

#etxt

[untilthenextencore]

"Nights To Remember Ch. 5: You Belong To Me~..."

~

~

Jimmy & Dahlia made their exit from the Chuco sometime after that. The smallest thing triggered it. The funniest thing. A song by the Duprees. And a shared look after one last dance.

"See the pyramids along the Nile…

Watch the sun rise on a tropic isle…

Just remember, darling, all the while…

You belong to me…"

The look they shared was laden with understanding. A flicker of a shared shy, sheepish smile. A soft laugh at how fitting the song was then.

They both knew it was time. It was in their nerves. In their blood. A little flicker in their eyes.

Jimmy laced his fingers through hers, hand swallowing hers as he gazed down at her. "Shall we?"

Dahlia nodded simply. "Let's go."

Jimmy slipped out of his jacket, draping it around her shoulders before leading her back out into the now much cooler night. He nodded & smiled in greeting, tossing a few waves to some cheering fans before they were both tucked safely back into the quiet private depths of the backseat of the town car he arrived in.

"Darling, you really shouldn't have run off like that. You really did give me quite a fright. Though I'm glad you left word for me with Peter." He tutted, patting her hand.

"Of course, baby." She reached up to cup his face tenderly & thumbed the swell of his cheek. "Like you already said I didn't want to worry you. I got bored back there but saw you were still having fun. I knew Peter would get the word to you in where I had gone. If you didn't already know or guess. I just got homesick I guess. Missed things. Missed the place. The fun. You know. The old days I guess."

The old days.

Memories danced in Jimmy's mind. Of more dances here. More dances at the Chuco. Inside under the tinted light. Outside on the patio. Under the streetlight. Under the stars. Under the moon.

From the first time she took him there in his Yardbirds days to then. Through all lengths of his hair. Through all lengths of his beard. Both before & after his beard. Pinstriped trousers, jeans, velvet bellbottoms. Silk blouses, lace trim, simple cotton. No matter what he wore he was always welcome. She was always welcome. They were always welcome.

It wasn't hard to see why she loved it.

Why she missed it.

Why she escaped.

The other party was the complete opposite.

Though she stuck out in both like a sore thumb - albeit a stunningly beautiful one - it was clear, she fit this one like a glove.

"I'm sorry if I worried you at all, Jimmy. I thought maybe if I went along with Robert when he offered you'd have less to worry about."

Jimmy stifled a laugh. Stifled a grin. Barely. After all these years. Even after that night. She still had no idea. He was glad in a way. It meant Robert hadn't tried anything. It also meant that certainly Magnet hadn't either. It meant she was still safe. Still his. Still secure.

"Forgive me?"

And thus, so was he.

Cupping her face in his large hands, Jimmy cooed in a dragon's curl of smoke from the cigarette he had just finished. "There's nothing to forgive, my dear. Nothing. As long as you're safe."

Dahlia beamed at him, placing her hands over his cupping her cheeks, starry-eyed as ever. "I had a wonderful time tonight, darling. Hope you did too. Despite the slight fright I gave you."

His smile grew before his lips pressed to her forehead once more. "My dearest. My sweetest. My loveliest. My only. My girl. My lady. My Dahlia."

His heart swelled in his chest at what he saw flickering in her gaze. The light. The devotion. The purity. Purity of gaze. Of heart. Of love. Of feeling. Of emotion. Pure, raw emotion.

All of this led him to make one simple promise. "The night's not over yet, my girl. My lady. It is but still young for us."

"I bless the day I found you…

I wanna stay around you…

Now and forever, let it be me…"

Jimmy's smile brightened at the sound of the Everlys crooning over the radio. "Remember this song, my darling?"

"Don't take this heaven from one…

If you must cling to someone…

Now and forever, let it be me…"

Dahlia's smile quirked in the same way. Instantly, she read his mind. "Palomino, 1969."

They shared a private giggle. A favorite date of theirs. A favorite memory of theirs. Jimmy taking Dahlia to see the Everly Brothers at the Palomino in 1969. Holding hands. Holding her close. Sneaking squeezes of her hand. Sneaking little clinches. Sneaking kisses. As they did before.

"Each time we meet, love…

I find complete love…

Without your sweet love…

What would life be?..."

As they did then.

Jimmy leant in & nuzzled Dahlia. Nuzzled his wife. She nuzzled back. A low growl sounded in his throat. A purr in hers. A chuckle followed from him. A giggle from her.

The partition rose between them & the front seat. Jimmy's arms came around Dahlia's back, hands caressing the skin left bare by her low backed dress. Dahlia shivered & purred again, reclining back as Jimmy leant her back into the seat. Her arms circled his shoulders as their nuzzling intensified & once again their lips met.

She shivered as she felt his silver jeweled pendant cool against her hot skin.

"Gee whiz, look at his eyes…

Gee whiz, how they hypnotize…

He's got everything a girl could want…

Man, oh, man, what a prize…

Oh, oh…"

As the song played Dahlia gazed up at him in the flickering, intermittent light. The dragon's green fire seared her to the core. A private smile was shared. A tandem flicker. The air crackling between the two as it so often did. And suddenly two pairs of curved lips crashed into each other.

"Heaven up above knows how much…

I love that fella's soul…

Angels sing of a love like this…

I hope our love will grow and grow…"

Jimmy's lips burned a trail of heated kisses down her throat as his hand blazed a trail up her skirt. Her legs fell open instantly. As if on command. Under his spell as ever. Open sesame.

"'Cause, gee whiz, I love that guy…

Gee whiz, my, my, oh my…

There are things we could do…

I could say I love you…

But all I can say is…

Gee whiz…"

His lips trailed back up to claim & conquer hers yet again. Dominating her again. Mauling her again. Dahlia nipped his lower lip softly, earning a throaty growl. The growl of course came with more hungry, devouring kisses.

A sudden gasp left Dahlia's lips, thighs tightening around his hand slightly as Jimmy's fingers shifted her panties aside & his middle finger pressed inside.

"Dahlia… My lady…" He panted.

Dahlia let her legs fall open just that bit wider. Jimmy's finger pressed deeper, curving towards those familiar places he knew so well would elicit those deliriously sweet sounds.

"Ah!..."

And little bucks & lifts & rocks of her hips as she was so doing then. Each little buck allowed her skirt to slip higher and higher up her thigh. The slipping slip dress thusly only revealed more and more of her shifted panties & his working fingers.

The sight of the flickering light, intermittent from passing cars & streetlights, flashing on her exposed core stirred him to no end. The sight of her lips parted. Him parting her lips. His fingers parting them & pumping. Curving. Pressing deep. Making her mewl. It stirred him… To action.

"Oh, my angel…

Come back to me…

And I will love you…

Till eternity…

Oh, my angel…

This fire in my heart…

Consumes my happiness…

Since we are apart…"

Jimmy let Dahlia slip from his arms momentarily, only to bring both hands to his belt & undo it.

"Dahlia… Forgive me… I need..."

Dahlia merely allowed herself to sink down onto the sear & giggled. "There's nothing to forgive… As you said, my love…"

Jimmy hurriedly undid & unzipped his trousers, freeing himself & allowing his length to fall free. Dahlia giggled again & softly stroked his length in greeting. Jimmy jolted, grunting, groaning deeply. He stilled himself, allowing her a few more smooth strokes before acting again.

Taking her hand & once more pressing a kiss to the back before draping her arms around his shoulders. Coming close, he gave her panties a tug down her thighs before embracing her once more. And with that, Jimmy rose over her, drawing his hips back & piercing her in one go.

"Ah!" Cane the tandem response.

"You're mine…

And we belong together…

Yes, we belong together…

For eternity…"

The music was the perfect soundtrack as they lay wrapped in each other's arms. Another giggle was shared between the two before Jimmy pressed deeply once more. Another thrust. Another gasp.

"You're mine…

Your lips belong to me…

Yes, they belong to only me…

For eternity…"

Jimmy rolled his hips into hers slowly. Smoothly. Deeply. He drew out moan after moan. Sigh after sigh. Stirring her from deep within.

Dahlia's back arched, allowing Jimmy to slide the spaghetti straps down her shoulders. There he was able to bunch the silken dress at her waist. There he was able to trail kisses down her neck as her head craned back.

His lips trailed a heated path down to her breasts, circling her nipples & sucking them into peaks as his tongue batted & teased them. The sight of her panties, filmy & now sodden, ringing around her ankle led him to remove them, pocketing them secretly. Then, Jimmy's smile widened as Dahlia's legs wrapped around his waist. Her heels grazed the upholstery on the door behind him, her ankles locked behind his back as he drove consistently into her as they were driven around.

"You're my, my baby…

And you'll always be…

I swear by everything I own…

You'll always, always be mine…"

Dahlia watched as his pendants glinted in the light. Dangling & spinning. Hypnotizing her. Each thrust pierced her to her very core. Stealing her breath away. Her hands slipped under his jacket, sliding along the smooth expanse of skin along his back. Her fingers curled. Nails scoring into his shoulders.

His hips stuttered & faltered only momentarily before snapping harder & ever so slightly faster into her.

"You're mine…" The song crooned.

"Jimmy..." Dahlia mewled, arching her back slightly. The way her eyes both glittered & hazed over caught his eye. He recognized that. Recognized the way her nails dragged from his shoulders down his back. He hissed & shuddered & snapped his hips yet again, thrusting deeper still.

Her legs tightened around him. Walls tightened around him. Arms tightened around him. "Ahhh… Jimmy… Jimmy…"

"Are you close, darling?" He asked with a kiss, even though he already knew.

As he expected, he saw her nod slowly, still with that hazed starry-eyed gaze.

Jimmy smiled, sliding one hand down to brace her hip. His thumb swirled gently on her clit as he began to hone his thrusts in a very pointed fashion. Dahlia gasped softly. The gasp was muffled against his lips as he claimed hers in yet another passionate kiss.

"Mmmm… Me too…" He admitted, with a cheeky grin, muffling his subsequent chuckles into her lips just as she had muffled her gasps.

Now their hips rocked in unison. Lifting & rolling into a sweet, smooth grinding meeting. The two of them colliding over & over.

"Jimmy…" Dahlia mewled.

"Mmm-hmm…" He purred, wrapping one arm around her back, the other hand bracing her thigh, keeping it close to him.

"Jimmy… Jimmy…" She nipped his lower lip, causing him to growl. The sound vibrated through her body, making her shiver & clench around him.

She felt him drive into her clenching tightness in a few short quick thrusts, aiming for her spot just so & jolted. Another gasp fell from her lips as her back arched. She clutched into him & with the last of his thrusts as he grunted & groaned, he spilled & she shattered.

Galaxies collided as their bodies had, shattering & spreading stardust across her vision, the stars he had seen in her eyes sealed with a bated breath sigh of his name & kiss.

"Jimmy..."

The same stars she saw alight in his now as his lids fluttered open. Emerald depths twinkling in greeting as their gazes met.

"My lady…"

"Jimmy…"

Her fingers drew their last trails down his back. Another hiss fell from his lips as he stirred deep within her, filling her as he braced her body to his. Large right hand still bracing her thigh to his hip. His left arm still wrapped around her, keeping her stomach flush against his.

"I love you…"

He swore as his lips retook & staked their claim on hers at the same time. Deep, passionate, grateful, sated, yet all the more hungry kisses greeted her on the way down as they both recovered.

"I love you…"

She sighed her pledge in return.

Another purr sounded as despite the eternity their hurried climb & easy float down from their peak seemed to take, they both registered the last words of the song then on the radio. Fitting as ever. As always.

"And we belong together…

Yes, we belong together…

For eternity…"

~

Hope y'all enjoy~!

As ever, this is forever under construction~!

#untilthenextencore #led zeppelin fanfic #led zeppelin fanfiction #led zeppelin fan fic #led zeppelin fan fiction #jimmy page fanfic #jimmy page fanfiction #jimmy page fan fic #jimmy page fan fiction #robert plant fanfiction #Spotify

[swordofsun]

Thoughts on music

Carry On Wayward Son is a fan thing. The song shows up twice in the show. 10x5 Fan Fiction and the finale.

The interesting thing about it showing up in Fan Fiction is that the kids in the musical sing it. Like the song has a deep and personal meaning to the in universe fandom. Which means Chuck must use it for something significant in the books. Carry On Wayward Son is a Chuck song through and through.

But with The Winchesters we got Led Zeppelin. For the first time ever we got Dean's favorite band. Playing while Mary drove Baby on her way to save the day.

This is literally Dean picking the music. He's rewriting the story in this particular universe. He's throwing the last remains of Chuck out and shutting the door behind them.

But then we have Jack. Jack who is dressed wrong and acting wrong and speaking wrong referencing the song. The song that represents our fandom, yes, but also the fandom Chuck made for himself. That is Chuck's music trying to force Dean back onto the path Chuck laid out.

But, I think it's pretty clear that Dean is going to Ramble On. He's clearly got some sort of scheme going with Bobby.

(And I will die on the The Rowena Was Our Rowena Hill)

@wigglebox per your request

#chuck won #we need to save cas #but we also need to save jack #and amara #spnwin spoilers #spnwin #the winchesters

[letmewanderinyourgarden2022]

[This is quite long. . .sorry. . .will try to make future chapters shorter]

“Okay, ready.”

He turned to find her leaning against the door jamb, much more like her earlier self. Something about the way she stood, the look on her face inflamed his already heightened sense of attachment to her.

“Shall we off, love?”

“Yes, Jimmy, let’s.”

He turned her in the doorway, his arm corralling her waist to speed her through the entranceway and to the street, hoping to avoid any additional adverse reactions.

“Okay?” He gazed down at her to confirm all was well when they reached the street.

“Yes, Mr. Page,” she shook her head in amusement.

As they trekked up Thames Street, she felt a slide of his hand and then the pressure of his fingers at the back of her neck. “Cheeky,” he hummed in her ear before resting his wrist on her shoulder, hand casually dangling as they walked.   He was relaxed but preoccupied.

Maybe I have met her before – in passing.

The effect of the photo that Perry handed him at Tower House so many months ago surged back and an echo of the pang that accompanied it.

 Perhaps she recalls such a thing and just hasn’t mentioned it. . .hmmm. . .This may be a good time to pose the question.

“So, I meant to ask before, Jane.  Did you ever see the band?”

“Yes, I have.  I’ve seen you play many more times, though.”

“Really? How so?”

This might solve that riddle. . .

“Well, my very first live rock concert was one my parents took me to along with a bunch of their friends at the Anderson for the Yardbirds.  I think it must have been. . .mmm. . .1968.  My parents were huge fans and we were visiting the City.  I think we went to New York for that very reason.”

“Ha!  Another surprising item about your family.”

“Yeah, I told you they are a story.”

“So, you liked the music, then?”

“I was hooked.  Of course, I’d heard the music around the house, but to see it  - hear it – live - was life-changing.  Really.  I’m not kidding.  I think that was partly why I took the courses I did in law school, you know, to be an entertainment lawyer.  And you!  I remember Keith Reif said something to the effect that you were a sorcerer with magic fingers.  I took him at his word.  White Summer was magical.”

“Thank you, love, but I’m not fishing for compliments.  Just curious.”

“Oh! I know that, Jimmy,” she said nudging against him playfully.  “And then when I read that you were forming Zep, my mission was to see the new band.”

“And did you see us early on?

“Baltimore in February 1969. . .but I have to admit, I was tripping my ass off, so what I remember is pretty fragmented and possibly imagined, you know.”

“Ha, ha! Understood but what do you remember?”

“About six or seven of us went to see Vanilla Fudge, but one of the guys and I were really excited to see Zep.  The first album had been playing on, I think it was WHFS, an underground FM station around DC that we could pick up at night if the weather was good,” she chuckled. “He and I were absolutely blown away.”

“The FM stations were perfect for our music.  They were the reason everything exploded for us that year. . . that and underground papers. . . and word of mouth, to be sure.”

“I had gone to quite a few concerts at the Civic Center by that time and made a good friend on the box office staff, so we were able to finagle the second row. I couldn’t sit still once you guys started so I moved to the edge of the stage – which they still let us do then – off to the side - your side and hung on for dear life. I believe that Robert said something to me when he flitted to that side of the stage. . .but who knows,” she snickered. “I remember parts of As Long As I Have You, Dazed, White Summer, and You Shook Me, but that’s pretty much it.  I distinctly recall you, though.  I thought your guitar was singing - just to me.  I mean, it was a voice, a persona, all to itself in my trippy hippie mind. By the time the Fudge came on, I was a puddle on the floor.  The only thing I remember from them is the organ vibrating whatever I was sitting on. So that’s my embarrassing story about the first time I saw the band.”

“I imagine we might have been a bit intense on acid,” he chuckled.

“Ha!  That’s an understatement!  And I saw part of the gig there in 1970 but I was leaving that evening for New York for an internship interview.  I managed to make it to Bonzo’s solo, but my ride insisted that we had to leave Baltimore that night, right then, so that was that. We had a big argument in the lobby, I mean, what the fuck difference would an hour or so make.  But anyway, I didn’t see you again until I was in Atlanta.  I caught The Firm and the Outrider tour.  And then you and Robert twice in the 90s.”

“That’s quite a lot more than I expected.   Did we ever meet at any of those gigs?  Were you backstage for any of them?”

“No, sadly we didn’t meet.  Even totally out of it, I would not have forgotten that.  Why do you ask?”

“Just curious, love, as I said.  Ah, here we are.”

They had arrived at the Great House at Sonning, a large inn with a green lawn sweeping down to the river’s edge.  As they entered the restaurant, Jimmy was greeted warmly.

“Afternoon, Jim, Miss.” The young man behind the desk nodded his greeting.  “Your table is ready.  You know the way, right? Someone will be with you in a few minutes.”

“Thanks, Mark.  Yes, I know the way.  Jane?” He swept his arm in the direction of the French doors off to their right indicating the way for her.

They stepped out onto a patio with a paved walk leading down the lawn to the river.  At the end of the path was a line of cabanas, each enclosed with a gauzy fabric rippling in the slight breeze. They were all empty except the one closest to the walk, where a table waited, set for two, and graced with a vase of flowers and maidenhair ferns.

“To your liking, Jane?” He pulled out the chair for her.

“Such a gentleman,” she chuckled.  She lifted the vase to her to deeply inhale the perfume of the purple and white blossoms.  “Mmm. . .lilacs. . .very, very nice.”

“Did you know the Victorians used to send covert messages via flowers?”

“I’ve read of that, but I couldn’t give you any details. I must look up the meaning of lilacs. . . You know, you are a very surprising man.  When our meeting was arranged, I expected maybe a conversation for an hour at most.  But not all of this.  I planned to be poking around in Sonning’s shops by now, not lunching along the river with you.  I am definitely not complaining.”

His eyes caught hers for just a moment before an impish look rose on his face. “Uh, can I see your phone for a minute?”

She was puzzled.  “Yeah, sure,” she said, searching her bag for the phone and handing it to him with a sly smile.

He pressed a few buttons and stopped.  “It’s locked,” he said dryly with a glare that matched his tone.

“Yes, that’s my Blackberry for work and other private stuff.”  She leaned in resting her elbow chin in hand.  “Well, Mr. Page, why don’t you tell me what you might be looking for?”

Trying to hide a slight embarrassment, the telltale tic returned when his finger flicked his cheek as he answered.  “I. . .uh. . .assume you have playlists on your phone.  You can tell a lot about a person by the music they keep – in their collections. . .and now, on their phones.  So, I thought I’d check out what’s on yours – with your permission, of course.”

“Ha!  Okay.” She snicked as she grabbed the phone from his hand and pointedly dropped it back into her bag.  Searching again, she pulled out her other phone, pressed a few buttons, and held it out to him.  “Here you go, nosey,” she jested.

He took the phone and looked at the list displayed on the screen, dismayed.  “All very good, Jane but they are only numbered – no description. How am I-”

She couldn’t resist taking advantage of his fluster.  “Geez, just pick one, Jimmy!”

“Uh. . .number seven. Let’s see.  Ah, classical.  A fan of baroque, hmmm?” He glanced at her and then back to the screen.

“I am, but other stuff too.  Prokofiev. . .and Barber’s Adagio for Strings is one of my favorite things. The tension gives me goosebumps.”

His eyes shot to hers in surprise.  “There’s Penderecki!  Really!  I’m quite familiar with Threnody.  I made it a point for us to do the benefit in Hiroshima, because, in part, of that piece of music. It’s a bit amazing that you know it.”

“My parents, again.  They were taken with it – the power of it.  It scared me when I was a kid, but much later, once I understood what it was about, I found it so evocative, particularly in its abstraction.  I. . .uh. . .hear a bit of it echoing in Dazed. . .at least to me.  That’s probably way off base, but. . .”

He tilted his face as he regarded her.  “Hmmm. . .maybe,” he said, noncommittal. “Let’s see another.  Ah jazz, you like Miles, eh?  Mmmm. . . west coast music. . .number 3. . .ahh. . .blues.  Who do we have on this list, I wonder?  Robert Johnson, Taj Mahal and . . .lots. . .in between those two.  Quite a selection here, love. I’m impressed with how broad your taste is.”

“Thank you, sir.  It’s part of my job to be well-versed, you know. The stuff I like the best is there. Uhh. . .Can I have my phone back now? Please?”  She smiled sweetly at him with a flutter of her eyelashes, in put-on flirtation. “I mean if you’re done snooping,” she added snidely, holding out her hand expectantly. He snorted with laughter as he surrendered her phone.

Their lunch was served and they chatted throughout the meal about various types of music that moved them and why particular ones did more so than others.  The server returned to remove their plates.

“Dessert, Jane?”

“Uh, no.  But an expresso would be fabulous.  Thanks.”

“Just tea for me, please.”

“I’ll be right back, I have to – well, you know,” she said as she popped up from the chair and sauntered down to the river to assuage her craving.

He sat forward and watched her wandering the water’s edge. His pleasure in being with her had certainly grown rapidly.  He was struck at how stunning she was as she stood at the river’s edge simply clad in jeans, boots, and a wine-red suede jacket covering a black top.  She beamed as she turned to climb the slope to return to the table.

“This is lovely, Jimmy.  One more unforgettable thing,” she sighed sliding back into her chair, as the server delivered the expresso, tea, and a plate of anise cookies.

“You’re going back to London tomorrow, right?”

“Yep.  That’s the plan,” she said as she dipped the cookie in the black-brown liquid, and took a bite.  “Let me say again, for the umpteenth time, how wonderful the time here has been.”

“I. . .uhh. . .was thinking of our conversation yesterday about your esoteric proclivities and I was hoping to pry a bit more, if I may?”

She eased back in the chair realizing, by the look in his eyes, he had a definite purpose.  It intrigued her and intuition told her this was a conversation they needed to have.

“Okay, my interest is piqued now!  What do you want to know?”

He relaxed into his arms folded on the table, focusing intently on her, and reached for her hand. He pulled her in closer to him as his thumb skimmed back and forth over the ridges of her knuckles.

“So, you said you weren’t a practitioner, but-“

“Uh, except for yoga, the tarot, and I Ching,” she quietly corrected him.

“Umm, yes. But the other things you mentioned – were you a dilettante or a dabbler, would you say?”

“Are you asking about some specific thing, Jimmy?”  It seemed they were playing cat and mouse around something and he ignored her question.

“The books you read – you said you took away what made sense to you.  I’m interested to understand what that was.”

She entertained his question for some time, trying to formulate what she thought about that whole period of her life- something she'd not done since her girls were young.

“Honestly, high-level - what I learned is there’s a freakin’ universe of stuff we don’t know.  What we do know is probably a minuscule part of what’s out there. All that I read told me that there are people who can tap into something that most of us can’t, at least not in the same way.  Jung’s collective consciousness makes sense to me.  And. . .uhm. . .these individuals were serious and committed to communicating what they experienced but approached it in different ways for different reasons – sometimes for good reasons and sometimes not.  That’s a simple explanation.  I don’t think you’re not proposing a deep philosophical discussion about this right at this moment, are you?”

 “And what did you take away from Crowley?”

“I found his writings difficult.”

He chuckled at her observation.  “Yes, it is, at first,”

“I think he was a much-maligned hedonist who lived an incredible life, right?  But also, a genius who pissed off a lot of people. Maybe I needed to spend more time with his writings to understand what he was proposing, but I’ve never felt compelled to do it.  I do use his tarot deck though.  His stuff on tarot was much more accessible to me.”

“And what about-“

“Tantra?” She slyly finished his question, confident with the choice of word.

“Yes.  Were you a dilettante, a dabbler, or something. . .more, love?”

The intensity in his eyes unleashed a warm frisson running inside her. “Ah. . .I was a little more than dabbler, I guess, but that was. . .well. . .a very long time ago.”

“And how do you remember it, love, fondly or otherwise?”

“Fondly. . . Jimmy, what is it you want to know?” Again, he did not respond but plowed forward; his agenda not yet completed.

“Ummm. . .I want to explain something that may be important for you to know.”

“I don’t –“

“No, just listen, love.  I want you to understand my proclivities.”

“Okaaay. . .”

“If you bear with me a moment, hmmm?”

She nodded.

“On a high level-” he smiled at repeating her caveat.  “You know, there was a strong relationship between the unseen world and humans before societies organized.  It was vital.  As rulers and religions with their hierarchies and agendas became the way of the world, this link to obscure knowledge became a threat to those with power.  The result?  Censuring, demonization, purges, and deaths of those with alternative ways of seeing. The innate ability we once all had slowly disappeared or became forbidden where it remained. John Dee, one of the most learned and esteemed minds of his time, was a counselor to Elizabeth I.  His library was thought to be the greatest in England in the Elizabethan era.  He was a mathematician and a scientist but he was also a magician.  His recorded magical experiences are the underpinnings of the Golden Dawn’s and Crowley’s systems.  Dee had encounters with beings he identified as angels who dictated to him and his scryer, in an unknown language using an also unknown alphabet. The two translated their records which became the basis of Enochian magic. But in his time, brilliance and accomplishment be damned, he was ridiculed, accused, and died in poverty.   I don’t mean to give you a lecture, love, and I am getting to my point.”

“No, please. I don’t feel lectured at all.” 

“Good,” he smiled softly and continued.  “Visitations by beings who imparted knowledge are as old as recorded history – in all cultures.  There were angels, demons, gods, goddesses, malaks, devas- that’s just a few.  So, if throughout history these messengers were observed, why did their visitations cease?   Because again, those who announced interaction with or even privately communed with spiritual beings were dangerous to the powerful and were silenced, banished from society as deranged, as lunatics, as consorting with demons, crazy, except, of course, when they were required to appear as a curiosity. I could go on.  Crowley had his own visitations that led to The Book of Law and his other writings.  And as you said, he was much maligned for it.”

“He was, but I think the sex and drugs contributed to the criticism, don’t you?”

“Well, yes, much like we experienced not so very long ago, yeah? He at one point said he followed 'The Three Kings - smo-king, drin-king and fuc-king.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay," she laughed, "point taken."

“He was very blatant, certainly.  He was devoted to physical pleasure as one way to be open to receiving information and along with certain substances, to free the subconscious desires – true will -  from the control of the conscious mind.  ‘Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law’ and ‘Love is the law, love under will’ are guiding principles in O.T.O. and Thelema. True will is essentially the calling or purpose in life.  Magick is the method to attain that purpose. As you pursue your journey, you cannot interfere with another’s exercise of their true will. . . It is not malevolent. . .And I am a practitioner and have been for a very long time, although not a diligent one.  I do not proselytize nor try to convert.   This is something I engage in privately and without much comment, as you know. There are very, very few people I have had this conversation with and now I’m having it with you.  I hope you understand the regard I have for you to reveal this part of myself.” His eyes scanned her face looking for acceptance or rejection. “So, does that make you want to run screaming for London?”

She started to make a smart remark to his question, thinking it was his usual sarcasm. He had not been this serious in their hours together but he was very serious now.  It was apparent in his piercing eyes, the tightened grasp on her fingers, and the smile missing from his face. She was at a loss for how to respond.  The depth of the admission felt immense.  No words could match it.  All she could do was bring his fingers to her lips where she placed a long, soft kiss.

“Jimmy. . .thank you. . .for trusting me.  And no, I’m not running at all.”  She could not let him go, so she took his hand in both of hers, silent.

“There’s a bit more I need to say, all right?”

“Please,” she said, barely audible.

“You are not alone in experiences you can’t explain.”

“What do you mean, Jimmy?”

“I mentioned that when I read your letter it had peculiarly affected me.  Yes?”

She nodded in agreement.

“That first night, when I was sitting with the letter, I could detect. . .no, feel is a better description. . .an energy coming from the paper and a barely perceptible voice.  Now that I have met you and heard your voice, it is hauntingly similar, my dear.”

“Fuck, Jimmy.”

“Yeah. . .and I had a dream - the very evening - of a white bird that flew to my window seeking entrance. Later I connected it to your letter by some intuition.   Ever since I saw you arrive at The Bull, a whispering of familiarity has gotten stronger.  You’ve confirmed we have not met in the past.  And. . .uh. . .last night I was moved to read my cards as well.  Your reading was perplexing you said; mine was extremely interesting and certainly related to you.  And now with your reaction at the Deanery, I’m at a loss to explain.  But I do know this:  we have a connection that seems to be shouting at us, love.”

“What the hell, Jimmy?  I. . .I. . .don’t know what to. . .Fuck!  What do I do with that?”

“Let’s have a cigarette, hmmm?”  He stood to pull her chair back. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” She handed him a cigarette and lit his then hers.

They walked hand in hand to the river’s edge where they separated each in their own thoughts.  After a minute, he flicked the cigarette into the river and slid behind her.  He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her close, and rested his chin on her shoulder.

He spoke very quietly in her ear. “I had decided to ask you this last night.  I hope your experience earlier doesn’t affect your response, but. . .”

“I’m feeling differently about it, I think. . .not so weirded out.”

“That’s good, Jane, because we have to investigate why we have been drawn to each other this particular way.  You’ve mentioned you don’t have any immediate plans, so would you come to stay at Deanery for a while?  I have engagements in London in a week, give or take, so we could go back together.  Or, if you prefer, you can stay on at the Inn, as my guest. No debate about that, hmmm?”

She turned to him and stepped back. “Wow. You are full of surprises!”

He watched her eyelids start to twitch as she looked down and knew her analytical side had engaged.

“Hey, look at me.”  She was still wide-eyed as she gazed up from the ground.  “You could just say yes, you know, but it’s plain that you have to think about it.” His finger tilted her chin so she looked directly at him. “James will be here all day tomorrow.  If you decide to go back to London, he will take you.  If you decide to come to the Deanery, we can find a good time for him to move you over and if you stay on at the Bull, we’ll figure out when to get together.  No pressure, Jane.  Is that agreeable?”

“Uh, yeah. . .yeah, it is.  Sorry wasn’t expecting that.”

“Shall we get you back to the Bull so you can start your deliberations?”

“Ha! You’re such a smart-ass. Yeah, let’s go.”

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

Jane was restless after returning to the Inn.  She found her way to a table in the far corner of the bar with a double shot. Even that didn’t settle her.  She left the half-empty glass and walked out into the cool evening air.  She headed through the car lot to the gate, knowing the other direction would take her to the Deanery.  She didn’t want to do that.  Absorbed in mentally debating the pros and cons of the situation she found herself in, she paid little attention to direction.  As the night fell, the glimmer of the tea lights from the spot across the lock caught her attention.

Yeah, I’ll hang out here for a while.  Nice and peaceful.

As she approached the bench, in the dimness she saw a figure already occupying the seat. He was hunched over, forearms on his knees, staring out at the water.

Shit!  There’s someone there.  Wait!

Her arrival at the bench was unnoticed. He didn’t respond until she plopped down on the bench disturbing his concentration.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she laughed.  “Sorry. . .didn't mean to disturb your solitary time.  Guess we had the same idea, huh?  Imagine that!”

“Ha!  Hello again, Jane.  I was just heading back.  Please don’t take offense – nothing to do with your arrival.  Do you want me to walk you to the Bull?”

“No, I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

He rose and slung his hands in his pockets. “Good night.”  He leaned over and whispered, “Take your time, love.  No rush, but call me, yeah?”

“Good night, beautiful man.”

#jimmy page fan fiction 2022 #jimmy page #zoso #jimmy page fanfiction #silver fox jimmy #old man jimmy #led zeppelin fanfic #let me wander in your garden-chapter ten-part two #lmwing 22 #let me wander in your garden 2022 #let me wander in your garden 2023

[lemongrablothbrok]

Was watching my favorite movie, Almost Famous, like a week or two ago. First of all, I'd just like to say, I could blog about this movie all fucking day, every fucking day, and intend to eventually (because I'm a masochist and like a challenge, damnit) do a post on every single Led Zeppelin reference that I could find in the movie (and there. Are. A lot. Probably literally more than there is of any other band or artist. For realsies), as well as an entire post of its own doing a character analysis of Vic, the Led Zeppelin fan (because I feel like he matters a lot more than his maybe two minutes of total screentime might suggest). But anyway...

So, I'm watching the director's cut, like I usually do (the theatrical cut just doesn't do it for me anymore), and there's one scene that (I'm pretty sure?) didn't make it into the regular cut of the film, but...like...

So, it's near the end of the movie, and Russell, the lead guitarist of the fictional band Stillwater, is having a conversation with the band's lead singer, Jeff, after butting heads with him for the entire movie and both of them coming to terms with the fact that...well...they don't like each other very much. And they're discussing whether it really matters if they like each other or not, and I think it's Jeff who says something like he thinks them liking each other might have been a detriment to the band, if anything, and how he's heard that all of the great duos hate each other or don't like each other or don't get along or whatever. Which, you know, cool, is true for maybe some of the most highly regarded rock groups (the Davies brothers in The Kinks, Joey Ramone and Johnny Ramone, and even Lennon and McCartney by the time The Beatles ended), clearly not all of them, though, but you know, hyperbole and all that. The real kicker, though? The fucking irony in that assertion, that none of the great duos in music get along? You know what song is playing in the background while they're talking about this?

"The [motherfucking] Rain Song", that's what. Like...uh...Jeff...you hear that song that's playing right now? Actually, probably not, since it might not be playing in-universe at that moment, though in Almost Famous it's sometimes hard to tell the diagetic (sp?) from non-diagetic music. But...like..."The Rain Song" is playing. Your argument is invalid, Jeff. Do you have any idea. Any fucking idea, Jeff, how much the duo responsible for that song (both in the writing and, quite possibly, the subject matter itself) don't hate each other? Like, pretty much the polar opposite of hate each other? Like, whether or not you believe that Page and Plant ever touched each other's no-no bits, what's not really up for debate is that those two men love each other like woah, whatever the nature of that love may be, doesn't matter, they are, for all intents and purposes, fucking married, they've both said so themselves. Yes, even James Patrick "No-Homo" Page.

I think Cameron Crowe definitely did that on purpose, and I appreciate the irony in the juxtaposition between the dialogue and the background music, is I guess what I'm saying. Listen, he was given special permission from the guys themselves to use a handful of Led Zeppelin's songs in his movie, he wasn't just going to slap them on any old scene all willy-nilly.

#I love you jeff but you're WRONG #led zeppelin #jimbert #irony #almost famous #fucking love that movie #awesome film #awesome music #the rain song #i dunno just something i felt like talking about while it was on my mind #stay tuned for eventually hopefully more almost famous related content. specifically regarding led zeppelin.

[paginate54]

Let Me Wander In Your Garden - Chapter Seven - Jane:

". . .you, in particular, seemed to be at times. . .no, a lot of the time. . .in some sort of ecstasy. . .some thrall. Where does that come from, Jimmy? It's the most erotic thing."

#jimmy page fan fiction 2022 #jimmy page #zoso #jimmy page fanfiction #silver fox jimmy #old man jimmy #led zeppelin fanfic #let me wander in your garden-chapter seven #lmwing 22 #let me wander in your garden 2022 #let me wander in your garden 2023

[old-memoria]

Signs as random rock music related stuff I came up with at 3 am

Aries: argues over who’s a real punk with 14 year olds online. Cries if somebody calls them a poseur

Taurus: that guy who writes I WAS BORN IN THE WRONG GENERATION in any classic rock music video comment section

Gemini: combines personalities of all the 4 Beatles. Has mastered the ability to understand Bob Dylan’s lyrics

Cancer: is the target audience of the 80s boy bands

Leo: uses extremely NSFW Led Zeppelin fan fiction as a coping mechanism

Virgo: no bro what Thom Yorke really wanted to say in this song-

Libra: makes threads like “what if I don’t like goth music, but love the aesthetic. Can I be goth???”

Scorpio: believes they could fix their favourite rockstar. Would actually make them worse

Sagittarius: if Liam Gallagher’s twitter was a person

Capricorn: makes their friends listen to 14 minutes long Pink Floyd songs, promises it will be good after the 6th minute

Aquarius: when somebody asks them what’s their favourite band’s favourite song, names the most obscure one not to come off as a fake fan

Pisces: the main character of the Smiths songs

#based on my experience lmao #especially cancers Leos and scorpios #idk what even is this post… #if we’re talking about astrology you should also check your Venus sign bc it stands for the things you’re fond of #but once again it’s just a product of my sleep deprived tormented mind so don’t take it seriously #astrology #astrology memes #zodic signs #Aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #Leo #Virgo #Libra #scorpio #saggitarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #the smiths #the Beatles #oasis #pink floyd #classic rock #britpop #led zeppelin

[chronically-enthusiastic]

Hello there, thanks for stumbling across my blog!

(Here's a lil comic I made for a school assignment)

I'm going to start putting my social energy levels in my bio... There's a lot of stuff I want to respond to but i currently dont have the energy to do so, and so if I don't respond within like a day, check my bio and see that... I always feel bad about being on tumblr when theres things people have sent me but responding to those things is a different level of interaction than reblogging a post... so yeah... Sorry to the people i havent responded to yet! I will soon <333 (writing this on low energy, sorry for the incoherence)

Who am I / Where else can you find me?

First of all, feel free to call me Eli!! I'm on the waiting list for an autism diagnosis. I am agender and aroace-spec.

I am verrryyy enthusiastic about the things I am interested in (hence the URL hehehe). And currently, those are: podcasts (theres a list at the bottom of the post), good omens, ofmd, bbc merlin, star trek!!!!, lotr, and probably more things that I am too tired to think of right now!

I am a very big fan of the oxford comma and double brackets. Semicolons are pretty cool too. And ellipses are incredible.

i love all of my mutuals dearly!! Making cookies and hot chocolate for you all <33

I try to use tone tags as much as possible!

Boundaries:

Things I am okay with sharing/doing:

My age, gender/sexuality, things about my guinea pigs!!, and most other things

Things I am not okay with sharing/doing:

The city I live in, pictures of me/anyone I know, my full name, my birthdate, my phone number/email address, meeting up with people irl, sending/receiving money/gifts, dms (<- though if we're mutuals and interacted a lot dms are fine!!)

^ this applies to everyone im not in the discord with

I will let someone know if they cross boundaries, and *really* would like other people to let me know if I cross theirs!!

DNI: people who are here to spread hate and anger. Just, stay away. I dont engage in discourse. I know DNIs dont deterr these people, but this is a demonstration of my core values :)

Updated to clarify - I do block the generic tags such as Israel and Gaza, which most of the posts are tagged with by the op, so if you forget its no big deal!!

Tags:

(At the top cause otherwise it will get lost) ALSO #tw body horror

I block quite a few tags but most notably #tw war and other ones to do with the war in israel/palestine. This is not because I don't care. I care so so so much about what is happening and I cry every time I see a post about it. It breaks my heart that such horrible things are happening. However, I really struggle with high empathy, and seeing a post about it can really affect me for a while, and I need tumblr to be a safe space away from the real world problems. If I follow you - please could you tag things to do with war. Thank you <3

A list of all the podcasts I listen to because y'know, its fun:

Fiction:

The Amelia Project

Wooden Overcoats

The Adventure Zone

Sherlock & Co

Alba Salix

Unseen

And a whole lot more that i no longer listen to either because they havent updated or they are a little too creepy (Welcome to Night Vale falls into the latter category)

Science:

The Sci Guys

Lets Learn Everything

Lingthusiasm

A podcast of unnecessary detail.

Comedy/other:

Dear Hank and John

The Unmade Podcast

Books Unbound

Lateral

A book list of recommendations from mutuals for my own use:

abigail by Magda Szasbo (@mack-anthology-mp3)

The Alphabet of Candice Phee (@jamie-dinow)

A list of music reccomendations from mutuals:

in the lap of the gods revisited by queen, why can't i be you by the cure, pyramid song, and lucky & the tourist by radiohead, when the sun hits by slowdive, dancing barefoot by patti smith, tangerine by led zeppelin, autumn sweater by yo la tengo, rubber ring by the smiths, water by pj harvey (from @/mack-anthology-mp3)

imi hendrix’s all along the watchtower (from @/catholickedd)

#pinned post #eli has a thought