#crossestate

[mattschiels]

Late summer evenings in NJ

[stesichoreanpalinode]

Sarina not doing much to refute my belief that Roger and Pixie the cat are one and the same person:

Exhibit A:

Exhibit B

[foundationsofdecay]

I love when a restaurant commercial comes on and the food still looks like shit

[sadeyedgoodbyes]

Brothers fighting🥰

Half of Queen

Roger Taylor and Brian May.

[pseudowho]

@mrhaitch to the kids in the living room, in his crossest voice:

Now, the rules of lunchtime are as follows: no smiling. No laughing. No eye contact.

[ao3feed-jonmartin]

His Disobliging Ways

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/MfVCbtI by briarfairchild “Come on, boss,” Tim says. “You’re going to have to help us out here. If it’s really you, give us a meow?” Jon hates all his assistants. Every single one of them. But, on balance, he supposes it’s best if they are cognisant of the whole situation, so he reluctantly opens his mouth and gives his crossest, least friendly meow. * Or, when Jon reads a Leitner and is turned into a cat, Martin is the only one who can take him home overnight. And, to top things off, it’s a Friday, so they’re going to have to spend the whole weekend together. Surely things can only go downhill from here. Words: 9826, Chapters: 1/3, Language: English Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Elias Bouchard | Jonah Magnus Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Additional Tags: Cat Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Animal Transformation, Cats, Leitner Books (The Magnus Archives), Fluff, Humor, Light Angst, just for flavour, The Magnus Archives Season 1, Biting, Scratching, Licking, Jon Is A Menace, Martin Is A Master Liar, Which Jon Does Not Find Attractive At All, no sir, Mutual Pining, And Mutual Denial Thereof, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Has a Crush, Martin Blackwood Has a Crush on Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Apologies, Forgiveness, Sharing a Bed, Literal Sleeping Together, Domesticity, Happy Ending read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/MfVCbtI

[siliquasquama]

The boar's head, as I understand, is the crossest dish in all the land

[vurhorst0n]

I think about this convo everyday

[vandrawsing]

cutest crossest angel in the garrison ☄️

[stesichoreanpalinode]

Record collector: on Freddie’s costumes

I think this is interesting because it shows how two different people can remember the past in more or less the same way but articulate that memory slightly differently from their own perspectives in such a way that other people could pick up different elements and quote them to different effect. Here Brian remembers being shocked but accepting, and Roger sees it more in terms of ‘I would never have worn that myself’. Someone could take Brian’s quote though and make it sound much more negative than it actually is.

Also lol at Roger’s totally gratuitous inability to keep off the subject of his least favourite costume ever.

Did Brian, Roger and John ever look at Freddie's outfits and say, "No, go and change mate. You can't go on stage in that!" Kim, US

BM: Oh, all the time. But he never paid any attention, I'm glad to say! I think the red glitter underpants were pretty Close to the line. We were like, "Freddie, really?" But he was Freddie, probably the only person in the world who would get away with that stuff. It was wonderful that he pushed things to such extremes - I think it was pure entertainment. He was very brave and he also had a great sense of humour. We never seriously objected to anything, of course not.

RT: [Emphatic] Oh, no, absolutely not! I mean, I've gotta admit, I was aghast at the nerve that he shotwed but really, I had to stand back in admiration at the absolute brass neck nerve of Freddie. We embraced his outrageousness, utterly embraced it. And just thinking, "Christ I would never have had the nerve to go on stage wearing a ballet outfit.), The whole thing was, we were ourselves. We knew that Freddie was outgoing and he was a showman and we always thought that's what the lead singer should be. We were entirely behind him. Though there was one exception, I didn't like the giant prawn outfit. I didn't like any of our outfits in that video, It's A Hard Life. I hated that video, I thought we all looked stupid. We sat around for several days in Munich making that video whilst they took seven hours to do a lighting change. I just remember being completely fed up with the idea of making videos at the time.

[stesichoreanpalinode]

OMG it’s Roger in the It’s A Hard Life video I see no difference

@littlebittyoctober: Today I’m not October, today I’m Kevin the Kitten from @vanessastockard paintings. I think I nailed it! #kevinthekittin

[stesichoreanpalinode]

Roger’s cross little face while drumming in Montreal perfectly captured

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by SANJI (@sanjiseo)

[stesichoreanpalinode]

Hello! 17, 24 and 25 for the Queen asks? ❤️

17 Synthesizers yay or nay?

I think they used them really well for pulsing rhythm and not as cheap replacements for strings.

24 Jazz or News of the World?

I think Jazz is really underrated, not least by the band themselves. I’ve just counted and they have the same number of songs I think are really good on them (6 each). Starting an album with Mustapha and ending it with More of That Jazz is fabulous but in the end I have to give it to News of the World because it gave us Melancholy Blues, in which Freddie turns Noel Coward at his most plaintive into the perfect rock’n’roll comedown. And the News of the World documentary which is just the gift that keeps on giving.

25 Fave music video

Radio Ga Ga gave us Roger wrapped up in red begging to be unwrapped, I Want To Break Free gave us the best nuclear family in the world and Freddie living a fantasy in the cupboard under the stairs, Headlong is so ridiculous it never fails to make me smile, One Vision makes you want to be there having fun with them, but not only have I always adored this video’s Caravaggio excess but knowing how very very dear it is to Roger’s heart is just the cherry on the cake

[lesferatu]

Failing a wisdom save to make room for the hottest crossest buns ever is *chefs kiss*

[stesichoreanpalinode]

OMG

Me: The Tasmanian devil is a voracious predator and should not be engaged with

Also me: Heehoo pupper

[puutterings]

all so pleasantly gardeny; a dead twig

  His authority may even be pruned away by your own activities until he is but a puttering convention, but he remains, smelling of earth, always talking of other places...

—

ex Florida Pier (1883-1979), “People with Gardens” in her near-weekly column (1908-1913) “The Gentler View,” Harper’s Weekly (Advertiser section; November 5, 1910) : 32 link at hathitrust same (University of Michigan) scan at google : link

entire —

      No one can possibly feel about your garden as you do, and you, with the most amiable of intentions, cannot be intimately enthusiastic about the garden of another person. One is envious in visiting an alien garden, or proud and filled with unholy satisfaction at its inferiority to one’s own; one may decide to imitate and ask questions as to ways and means, but no one with a garden loves the garden of another, and the walking around that is always done is a hollow pretence at mutual enjoyment, planned to cover the inability on the part of the owner to restrain his desire to show off, in spite of the fact that he knows his guest to come only because he hopes to have his turn later on. It is a placing in the bank credit for having played audience, to be drawn on at one’s first need of an audience of one’s own.       A gardenless person is not taken into account. He can stroll through any garden, his soul unruffled, a cool but surely most unsatisfactory delight taken in the detached fact of its being all so pleasantly gardeny. But the fire of ambition and passion following frustration of a deeply involved gardener is a thing unknown to him. It is even boresome to read of gardens. The writer is gloomily aware of this. To those who are without gardens the subject is blankly uninteresting, and the enthusiasm of the writer weven proving slightly irritating, while to those who have gardens, generalizations and rhapsodies are tantalizing, when what they want is a definite, specialized anwer to their particular quandary. The multitude of things written about gardens, none of which are ever read, is but a proof of the irrepressibleness of gardeners in general, and the need that is upon them of saying their say, of droning, with the warm dulness of a loaded bee, of the gardens that are, were, and will be. For it is never alone the garden before his eyes that a visitor is expected to be interested in; he must also realize the state the place was in before the changes were made, and the Eden it will be when the contemplated plans are carried out. This is a most embarrassing point for all concerned, because the visitor cannot picture precisely what his gardening host wants him to, or enthuse loudly over what he fails to conceive, and the poor host — it is so hard on him! He knows he is boring everybody; he wishes he could remain silent, but he knows he cannot, and sheepishly, unhappily, yet keenly and excitedly, he explains at length that ivy will cover all that in eight or ten years, “and here we intend to have a thorn hedge, with a double border of violas running straight down that path —“ and it only when he realizes that no one is listening to him and that he is becoming more objectionably wearisome every minute that he stops with a shamed mumble and picks off a dead twig that no one else would have seen, and, patting the flowers on their heads and straightening out the ruffles of the rhododendra, he contents himself with silent communing.       Then there is the gardener. There is something souring or deadening in being a professional gardener. If he is cross, he is the crossest of men, and the flowers have a hectored look as though they grew from fright, while the family sneaks through the garden on tiptoe and flushes quietly if caught gazing at its own shrubs. On the other hand, if a gardener is stuid, he reaches a clod-like epitome of stupidity that makes him a curiosity among men. Such people are “gomerels.” All gardeners are “gomerels” — those who are not were intended for any other work. They must be constantly circumvented. They cannot be disobeyed, for even in one’s own garden one must not flaunt one’s rights in the gardener’s face, and as they always croak dreadful prophecies of what will happen if you do as you intend to do, it is necessary to agree with them, then carry out your original intentions with the smallest possible degree of difference; and the flaming blloms that result a re a point made and recognized in the silent, subtle war carried on between you and the “gomerel,” who, by the way, is never discharged. He may fade away and be replaced by another much like him, but these are akin to the changes brought about by the seasons. A definite discharge for stupidity is unheard of. It would be like asking a tree to walk out of your avenue because it shed its leaves. It may be cut to the ground by proving him in the wrong and making him live with his failures, or he may be propped up with assistants in the shape of young boys. His authority may even be pruned away by your own activities until he is but a puttering convention, but he remains, smelling of earth, always talking of other places where he “had a sight more glass,” a reproving presence, but an integral part of the garden.

—

the last paragraph rather ill-tempered —

Gomeril, also gomeral, gommerel, gowmeril, &c., A fool, blockhead, stupid fellow, a simpleton, half-wit... see Joseph Wright, The English Dialect Dictionary vol. 2 (1898) : 675 (link)