#thank you my queen of Vermont

[rayrayor]

King of the South Side

The complete Shameless Big Bang Fiction is here. Holy moly, I loved writing this and @filorux your art is just perfection.

And to all the wonderful folks I have connected with , thank you for always supporting everyone with love and making this fandom amazing

Thank you to Gallavich Fic Club for being a place of support.

@spacerockwriting and @sweetperversiongirl thank you for calming my panic writing this!

My beta @notherenewjersey, who turned me on to commas being good things, plus @grumble-fish who I cannot find your @ 🤬

@whaticameherefor You are a rockstar for keeping this going this year. I appreciate you so much💕💕💕

[burythecarnival]

well met, tumblrites. i am not going to go into great detail & make this too long but, i wanted to put this out there in case you have messaged me the past several days but not heard back.

i just returned from the other side of the country in vermont & feel like complete shit. in forty eight hours, i flew on planes, spent long periods waiting for delayed flights, packed up things from my dad's home that he left us but we're forced to sell, spread his ashes in the forest then recited an irish blessing, said goodbye to our second childhood home & flew home.

i am in so much fucking pain. arthritis flares mixed with edema swelling & severe muscle fatigue make for a miserable combination. i still haven't cried; my eyes feel so dry & swollen so, who knows when tears will come. my lungs (which are scarred from scleroderma & have limited function) burn awfully from the travel, different climates, breathing recycled air & doing way too much physically.

thank you for being patient with me. my da was my everything & i am barely functioning. if you have made it this far, i appreciate you.

luv, cuddles & cauldron bubbles, the ghost queen

[leiawritesstories]

Stick Season (Part 2)

masterlist

Rowaelin Month, Day 7: Vacation/Outdoors

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: bickering cousins, couple of swear words, one healthy serving of angst

Enjoy! (?)

@rowaelinscourt

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

Present

The Whitethorn horde blew into Doranelle, Vermont, like a Category 4 blizzard, albeit a very welcome one. Rowan felt like he’d barely woken up and downed his first cup of coffee before there was a rigorous pounding on his front door and he looked out the kitchen window to find an entire caravan of silver vehicles filling his front yard as if it was a parking lot. 

“We know you’re home, Ro-Ro!” Sellene yelled from the porch. “You can’t hide from Christmas forever, and besides, you invited us!” 

“Calm down, LeLe,” Rowan drawled, opening the door to a flock of bright green eyes, blonde hair, and layers of winter clothing. “Nobody said you had to show up at eight in the bloody morning.” 

“It’s ten-thirty,” she retorted. 

“Same difference.” He easily lifted the two large suitcases she was rolling and headed for the guest rooms. “It’s too early.” 

“You never were a morning person.” She flicked on the bedroom lights. “Just leave them by the window.” 

He put the suitcases down and made a quick stop to pull on his jacket before heading out to the neatly parked rows of cars, where he found his closest (in age) cousin struggling to maneuver luggage out of his SUV. “The dealerships called, Enda. They’re out of silver paint.” 

“What can I say?” Endymion Whitethorn shrugged, far too charming for his own good. “We’ve always liked our family colors.” 

“Doesn’t mean we have to drive around in matching cars like some kind of hippie mission church,” Rowan deadpanned. 

Enda snorted with laughter. “Gods, I’ve missed you.” He pulled Rowan into a brief, tight hug. “How are you? How’s the property? How’s…everything?” 

“Property’s fine, I’m too damn tired for this chaos, and everything is fine.” 

“I’m sure it is.” The dryness of Enda’s voice rivaled the Sahara Desert. 

“Don’t get any romantic ideas,” Rowan warned, only half teasing. Last Christmas, he’d lost a bet to Enda, who’d then set him up on a spectacularly awful date with a shrewish woman named Remelle– “but you can call me Remy”–an event that soured his memory every time he recalled that evening. 

“I would never,” Enda said, drawing out the never into a long, supposedly innocent singsong.

Rowan rolled his eyes. “And I’m the Queen of England.” He snickered at the outraged expression on his cousin’s face and picked up a duffle bag and a couple of crates full of brightly wrapped gifts. “Your car won’t unload itself, you know.” 

“Remind me why I put up with this bullshit,” Enda grumbled. 

Passing by just in time to hear the curse word, Sellene swatted Enda upside the head. “There are children present!” 

“Oh please, your kids were swearing before they spoke full sentences.” 

She huffed. “And it’s no wonder, considering that their uncles have such foul mouths.” Fondly, she rolled her eyes at Enda, who was still hopelessly attempting to maneuver one suitcase out from the bottom of the luggage piled in the trunk. “You’ll get unpacked a lot faster if you don’t try to play Suitcase Jenga. Here, let me.” 

He grumbled something about her being interfering but stepped aside and let her expertly dismantle the pile of suitcases. “Thanks, Sel.” 

“You’re welcome.” She blew him an air kiss. “How two men and a puppy manage to have more crap packed in their car than me and my whole family, I’ll never understand.” 

“That’s because my husband and I care about looking our best, thank you very much.” Enda flipped his shoulder-length hair, picked up a few of his bags, and sauntered off towards the house. 

“Would it be rude of me to say ‘yes, queen?’” Rowan murmured into Sellene’s ear. 

She burst into shaking, wheezing laughter. “Oh gods,” she gasped. “I think I peed myself a little.” She smacked his shoulder, though between her winter gloves and his thick parka, it didn’t do much  damage. “You’d better let that sense of humor loose at least a few times, Ro-Ro, or we’ll be forced to believe you aren’t actually human.” 

“Piss off,” he grumbled, but he was laughing. “I’m glad you’re here, Sel.” 

“I’m glad you let the horde of heathens come to your place again after what happened last year,” she quipped. “I thought for sure we’d be banished to Ellys’s place for Christmas vacation.” 

“Ellys can barely host a birthday party, let alone multiple nights with the whole Whitethorn family. It’s better if everyone crashes here; there’s more space.” 

“Plus we can always pitch tents in the yard.” 

“This is true.” He winked. “I think we should make that the punishment for the loudest ones.” 

“Deal.” Sellene bumped her gloved fist into his. “Fifty bucks says it’ll be Fenrys and whoever he brings home for the holidays.” 

“Why do I let him come to my house?” Rowan sighed. 

“Tradition,” both he and his cousin chorused. 

Sellene snickered. “Alright, I’m going to go control my wild children.” 

“Too late,” Rowan called. “They’ve already found the hot cocoa.” 

~

“Thank you for visiting Orynth Shelves! Happy holidays!” Aelin waved cheerfully to the most recent customer, turned back to the mercifully empty desk, and exhaled a deep sigh of relief. The day had been absolutely insane, packed full of holiday shoppers ranging from sweet elderly ladies to rambunctious kids who tried to climb the bookshelves and tracked wet slush everywhere. She had just turned around to steal two minutes of peace and quiet when the bells on the front door jingled and she had to turn back around, paint her customer service smile on her face, and– “Sellene?” 

“Aelin?” Sellene Whitethorn looked just as shocked as Aelin felt. 

“In the flesh.” Aelin shrugged. “Here I am, back in my hometown. Crazy, right?” 

“It’s…unexpected,” Sellene admitted. “But damn, it’s so good to see you again, Aelin.” 

Aelin rounded the desk and accepted Sellene’s brief hug. “It’s great to see you too. Are you looking for something in particular, or just browsing?” 

“Hmm, I think I’ll just browse.” Sellene grinned. “You never know what you’ll find during the holidays, right?” 

“Right.” Aelin gestured towards the shelves. “Happy hunting! If you’re interested, though, there’s a special winter section in the feature corner, and I’ve stocked it with as many cute little holiday romances as I could find.” She wiggled her eyebrows. 

“Say no more!” Sellene hurried off towards the seasonal display. 

Aelin laughed to herself and returned to the desk. Even after a number of years, she still remembered how much Sellene Whitethorn adored holiday romances. It had been one of their shared interests when they’d first met–way back in high school–and she could recall the exact expression on Sellene’s face when she realized how many books (and book boyfriends) they had in common. 

One Christmas, Sellene had even taken Rowan (her “hopelessly clueless cousin”) to the bookstore to buy Aelin’s present. With her guidance, Rowan had bought Aelin a complete set of her favorite small-town romance series and written sweet little messages in each book’s cover. 

Aelin still had those books. They lived in an unlabeled tote in her spare room. 

She shook away the ache of that memory, pushing it back into the deep recesses of her mind where it belonged, and grinned as Sellene walked up to the register with a small stack of books in her arms. 

“I was expecting more than that,” she teased as she rang up the books. 

Sellene laughed. “Well, I’m on a budget–”

“Bullshit, it’s Christmas.” 

“Fair enough. I’m on a book-buying budget, and I can’t exactly gift these to anyone in my family.” With a suggestive smirk, she passed Aelin one of the books. 

Screwing Mr. Scrooge, proclaimed the title. 

Aelin snorted with laughter. “Yeah, maybe don’t make that someone’s present.” 

“I’m only buying it because my husband and I–”

“And that’s where you can stop,” Aelin interrupted, pretending to gag and swatting Sellene playfully with the book. “My gods, Sellene!” 

Sellene giggled. “Alright, I’ll spare you the details.” She winked as she took out her credit card and tapped it to the card reader. “You’re in publishing, right?” 

“Yep.” 

“Then you definitely know what happens when readers who have a significant other find a spicy scene they like.” 

“Doesn’t mean I need to have firsthand knowledge,” Aelin teased. “There you go, Sellene. Enjoy the rest of your vacation!” 

“Thanks!” Sellene zipped up her thick parka jacket. Almost at the front door, she paused and turned back to Aelin. “Hey, I had a thought.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Well, I don’t want you to be here alone, least of all during Christmas–” 

“Oh, don’t worry about me.” Aelin waved off the protest. “I’m with Dad, and Aedion’s here too. I’m not going to be alone on Christmas.” 

“Still, the invitation stands.” Sellene continued as if Aelin hadn’t spoken. “I want to invite you to come over to the Whitethorn place. We haven’t seen you in far too long, and the whole family is here, even the little ones. Plus, I’m sure Rowan wants to see you…” 

She kept going, but Aelin no longer heard anything she was saying. The mere mention of the name Rowan had consumed her. Rowan wants to see you. 

How could he? 

Until the other week outside Staghorns, they hadn’t spoken in three years. How could he possibly want to see her? 

She’d been the one to leave. 

~

Three Years Ago

Aelin slowed down and turned onto the long, painstakingly cleared driveway of her family home and drove up the asphalt pathway until she reached the turnaround in front of the sprawling, elegant redbrick structure that was the Galathynius home. She parked, turned off the engine, and sat in the driver’s seat for a long, achingly silent moment. 

Then she dried her tears, checked her reflection in the rearview mirror to make sure there was no evidence that she’d been sobbing for the last fifteen minutes, and exited her car. 

With her suitcase behind her and her tote bag slung neatly over her shoulder, Aelin walked up the front steps and entered the two-story atrium of the house’s front hall. “Hello?” she called. Part of her hoped–desperately–that there would be nobody home. 

But with a soft rustle of cashmere and a gentle tap-tap-tap of heeled pumps, Evalin Ashryver appeared at the top of the grand staircase. “Hello, darling.” 

“Mother.” Aelin set her luggage aside and crossed the foyer, meeting her mother in the middle and accepting a perfunctory hug and air kiss. 

“How was the drive?” Evalin inquired. 

“Smooth,” Aelin replied. “The traffic disappeared after I left the city.” 

“Funny how that happens.” Evalin pressed the buzzer on the wall, summoning the housekeeper that the family apparently still employed. “Clara, would you please take my daughter’s things to her room?” She dismissed the housekeeper and led Aelin towards the family living room.

Aelin bit her tongue to hold back all the things she wanted to spew. She’d been trying for years (without success) to convince her mother that there was no need to keep on a full-time housekeeper and butler. A cook she understood, and a groundskeeper, but Rhoe and Evalin were the only ones who lived in that huge house anymore. They didn’t need staff for everything they did. 

“So pleased that you were able to come home this early,” Evalin said. 

Aelin returned her attention to her mother. “Yes, I managed to take a more flexible holiday vacation.” Her lips quirked upwards. “I suppose the promotion helped.” 

“The promotion?” 

“Didn’t I tell you? I was promoted to editor in November.” Aelin couldn’t control the proud smile that curved across her face. 

Evalin beamed. “I’ll never know why it took your firm so long to realize that you’re the most competent person there. Congratulations, darling.” She squeezed Aelin’s hand, her own hand cold. “An editor at only twenty-four. Next up, editor in chief, right?” 

“Perhaps,” Aelin concurred. “But–”

“Rhoe, dear!” Evalin called, unaware that her daughter was speaking. “We have news!” 

Rhoe strode into the living room with a broad, genuine smile on his face and pulled Aelin into a powerfully warm hug. “Welcome home, Fireheart.” 

“Hi, Dad.” She grinned up at him. “I have news.” 

“So your mother tells me.” He took a seat in one of the comfortable armchairs. “Well?” 

“I’ve been promoted to editor as of last month.” 

“Congratulations!” Rhoe got to his feet and wrapped his daughter in an embrace, then went over to the bar built into one side of the room and retrieved a small bottle of champagne and three flutes. “This calls for a toast!” 

“Really, Rhoe,” Evalin tutted, frowning at her husband as he poured the champagne and handed out the glasses. “It’s barely even four o’clock.” 

“It’s a perfectly reasonable occasion for a toast,” Rhoe returned. He pressed Aelin’s glass into her hand, giving her a look of reassurance. “To our Fireheart, the editor!” 

Aelin grinned at her father, clinked her glass gently against his, and took a delicate sip of the expensive champagne; of course her parents would only stock the finest in their fridge. “Thanks, Dad.” 

“Darling, haven’t we discussed how mature women ought to be past the point of referring to their parents in childish ways?” Evalin’s tone was cool, reproving. 

The champagne curdled in Aelin’s stomach. Silently, she placed her glass down on the granite bartop. “I was unaware that there were politically correct terms for one’s own parents.” She kept her voice light, but her spine stiffened into steel, preparing for the inevitable onslaught of her mother’s disapproval. 

“As an editor, surely you understand the value of adjusting language to fit the appropriate categorization and age range,” Evalin stated. “The same principle ought to apply to all areas of speech, darling. Furthermore, your father would never allow his employees to address him as ‘Rhoe,’ so why should his daughter address him that casually?” 

“Perhaps for the fact that she is his daughter.” It was Rhoe who spoke, his words laced with the underlying note of command that marked him as the incredibly successful businessman he was. Subtly, he moved closer to Aelin, acting both as a shield between her and Evalin and as an extinguisher to the brewing flames of both women’s wrath. 

Aelin exchanged a look of deepest gratitude with her father and turned to leave the room. Before she was out the door, though, she heard her mother whispering heatedly, tearing into Rhoe for the simple act of defending his only daughter. 

“I will not have you come between my daughter and I when I am speaking!” Evalin hissed. “I am her mother, and you know full well that we hardly get the chance to see her. You cannot deprive me of the time I need to spend with her on the rare occasion that she’s home, you callous–” 

Aelin wheeled around and stalked over to Evalin, fire blazing in the gold of her eyes. “If anyone is callous, Mom, it’s you.” Vehemence threw her words like spears. “Or were you conveniently going to forget that you interrupted my call with Rowan while I was driving because you needed to remind me that I’m a pathetic excuse of a daughter for wanting to see my boyfriend for two minutes before I come home?” Her breath was ragged. “Well, you’ll be delighted to know that I broke up with him.” 

Evalin’s jaw went slack. “I–” 

“You got your wish, Mother.” Aelin laughed, sardonically. “I’m home for dinnertime.” 

Turning sharply on her heel, she stalked out of the room, leaving behind her shell-shocked father and her mother stunned silent for once as she processed the truth her daughter had just flung. She kept her composure all the way up to her bedroom, where she entered the room and locked the door behind herself. 

Then Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, unflappable editor, crumpled to the floor and sobbed.

~~~

TAGS: please let me knof if you want to be added/removed ir if tags aren't working! :)

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

[lorircreates]

Thank you so much for the tag, @jerzwriter 🥰 This is such a lovely idea! I miss writing Valentine's Day fics for my OTPs, but due to health issues, I just have energy to answer this tag and share some headcanons:

Liam and Jade celebrated Valentine's Day with a romantic dinner in Valtoria. They had a band playing live for them, Jade sang All I Need (Christina Aguilera) to Liam and Liam (who loves a classic music but is learning more about popular ones) asked the band to play And I Love Her (The Beatles) while he slow danced with his queen.

The odds of Logan and Carla being together on Valentine's Day were slim (though they have plans for a proper celebration some other time). Logan spent the night listening Blue Eyes (Elton John). Carla, on the other hand, listened to Wrong Places (H.E.R.) on repeat while looking through a memory box filled with photos, movie tickets, napkins of places they went together.

Hayden and Natasha went on a trip to Vermont, prepared themselves a romantic dinner at the cabin they rented until Sunday while listening to their favourite ballads like Wonderful Tonight (Eric Clapton) and (Best Part (Daniel Caeser ft. H.E.R.).

Jax and Samantha spent the night at a karaoke bar singing and drinking (tequila shots, obviously) together. Jax sang Always (Bon Jovi) to Samantha and Sam dedicated/sang Love on The Brain (Rihanna) to him.

Rafael and Evelyn surely had a fun night going out to dance. Evelyn now knows how to dance samba, so they danced to O Que É Amor (Maria Rita) and listened to Es Por Ti (Juanes) on their way home because it's one of Evelyn's all time faves.

Last but not least, my AU babes: Annabelle and Veronica went to a pub, drank until they could barely walk, played pool and air hockey. On the way back home, both of them asked the Uber driver play Annabelle's fave song Fade Into You (Mazzy Star) and Veronica's fave Cuide Bem Do Seu Amor (Paralamas do Sucesso).

Hamid and Daphne also went on a trip (to Copenhagen). They went skiing during the day and at night they had a very cozy dinner by the fire while listened to a collaborative playlist they have for date nights and another romantic moments. Hamid's latest addition to their playlist was Paris In The Rain (Lauv) and Daphne's was A Sorta Fairytale (Tori Amos).

Tagging @peonierose @missameliep @lilyoffandoms @princess-geek @noesapphic @havenroyals @sazanes @lizzybeth1986 and anyone who wants to share their OTPs Valentine's Day songs

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 24/02/2024 (Dua Lipa, Djo, Calvin Harris/Rag'n'Bone Man)

Guess we know who’s winning the Civil War - Beyoncé’s “TEXAS HOLD ‘EM” usurps Vermont on the throne of the UK Singles Chart. Welcome back to REVIEWING THE CHARTS!

Rundown

It’s kind of calming to have a week where outside of some new entries, of which there are only a handful to begin with. So, as always, we start with the notable dropouts, which are songs exiting the UK Top 75 (what I cover) after five weeks in the region or a peak in the top 40. This week, we bid adieu to a small selection of songs but some of which are pretty important. Sure, I guess we can say good riddance to “MY EYES” by Travis Scott (featuring uncredited vocals from Justin Vernon of Bon Iver and Sampha) and “Body Moving”  by Eliza Rose and Calvin Harris without much fret, but we also see dropouts from the Barbie soundtrack with both “What Was I Made For?” by Billie Eilish and “Dance the Night” by Dua Lipa leaving, as well as Sam Fender’s “Seventeen Going Under” making yet another exit though I’m sure it’ll be back soon enough.

There isn’t much to speak of in our gains, either. The biggest story is probably our list of returns, since the new documentary, Bob Marley: One Love has people rediscovering the reggae legend’s catalogue. His greatest hits album is at #6 on the albums chart and two of his songs with the Wailers return to the top 75. Both songs peaked in 1980, with “Could You be Loved”, now at #51, peaking at #5 whilst Odyssey’s “Use it Up and Wear it Out” was #1 and “Three Little Birds”, now at #56, only peaking at #17, whilst “Don’t Stand So Close to Me” by The Police was #1. Marley would pass just one year after, of course, and it is pretty poetic to have his grandson in the top 10 right now, but just so this episode has some cool chart history trivia, how about we go through the several times these songs have charted? Different recordings of the two songs released in 1984 and 1985 peaked at #71 and #76 respectively. Joe Cocker’s cover of “Could You be Loved” peaked at #86 in 1997, and as far as I can find, no other covers of either song have charted, which kind of surprises me. After all, the latter was recently covered by Maroon 5, I figured they’d hitch a chart spot on name recognition but nope, not even a child singer Connie Talbot could do it in the talent show boom in the 2000s, so I guess Marley’s original really can’t be replaced.

As for the rest of our gains and returns, “Thank You (Not So Bad)” by way too many people who should know better is back at #73 and “Coal” by Dylan Gossett returns to #61. The gains include last week’s debuts, “Made for Me” by Muni Long and “Birds in the Sky” by NewEra at #48 and #44 respectively, “Lil Boo Thang” by the GOAT Paul Russell at #35 and, despite what the Official Charts Company would want you to believe, “Grey” by Yung Filly is at #33. There was an Aitch remix.

This week’s top 5 is actually pretty notable in terms of some shifting tides. We begin with ACR - search it up - striking Noah Kahan’s “Stick Season” down to #5, and then one of a few big debuts with Dua Lipa at #4 with “Training Season”, followed by gains for some white dudes making big moves: “Lose Control” by Teddy Swims at #3 and “Beautiful Things” by Benson Boone at #2, and finally, of course Queen Bey at the top. Now, we don’t have that wide of an array of new entries, or really, many at all, of which I’m pretty grateful for, so let’s zip through them.

New Entries

#66 - “Soaked” - Shy Smith

Produced by BeatBusta

Alright, I’ll bite… who the Hell is Shy Smith and why did they go with that… uncomfortable cover art? Well, this song is actually from 2021, and I assume through TikTok has gone viral, but this isn’t some indie artist as we typically see, this is a Canadian social media star, which makes this song seem a bit more like a joke. That’s a relief since despite being three years old, it sounds like Ciara made this in 2006 with the glassy synths, blocky Timbaland-esque production and squarrelling synth buzz, that is much more “in” now than it ever has been. Part of me understands completely therefore why this is charting now… but then another part of me doesn’t understand why this is charting at all. There’s really nothing to the stifled groove of the beat and it sounds like it actively strains Shy Smith to try having a personality. It’s so clearly going for semi-goofy seduction, but clawing actual intimacy out of this is as hard a job for me as it would have been for the vocal engineers, so I’m really not understanding this one.

#53 - “Whatever She Wants” - Bryson Tiller

Produced by TylianMTB

I always forget Bryson Tiller exists until he shows back up again, and I mean no offence by that as nothing has given me the impression that he’s not talented or a good person, but not a single song has clicked with me, despite having a lot of respect for his mostly singular lane and pioneering of the trap-soul sound. I can think of people who perhaps want to be Bryson Tiller, but I can’t figure out who Bryson Tiller wants to be other than, well, Bryson Tiller, and even if the music doesn’t resonate, I’m happy with that. Problem here is that he’s obviously trying to be Drake. He’s always been the easiest comparison to make with Tiller, but other than the more Detroit-influenced percussion, which really sounds like a typical trap rhythm with a Detroit choice of sounds more than anything, other than an elegant Orion Sum sample… this is just a Drake song. He goes for Drake flows, Drake melodies, even Drake’s uncomfortable whispery ad-libs. You could argue that the influence is mutual, but it is really difficult for me not to see a Drake fan taking the acapella, running it through a Drake voice AI and making something completely believable. Even the content is a slightly less embarrassing Drake riff, which just shows to me that he may be a unique singer, but not so much a rapper. Tylian’s beat is pretty good on this, I will admit, but I’m compelled by Mr. Tiller enough as a unique presence to care much about this. The train-like way the song keeps to an uptempo chug is actually pretty interesting though, it doesn’t feel like it ever wants to stop and take a breath, and Tiller does contribute to that, he’s not a total dud on his own song. He’s not really improving it either, though.

#19 - “Lovers in a Past Life” - Calvin Harris and Rag’n’Bone Man

Produced by Calvin Harris and watt

The petty part of me wants to say “2018 called” but this collaboration isn’t dated on arrival: Rag’n’Bone Man is another one of those artists I always forget about until they show up and I think this will just be a repeat of what I said about “Giant” all those years ago. He needs a rough layer of grit under him, not this flashy, sugary house track that he sticks out like a sore thumb over. Now it may not be dated on arrival but it is in execution: this is a tropical house song, and whilst Calvin Harris has always been good at mixing and making his stuff sound professional, this actually detracts from the character-void guitar and four-on-the-floor programming that all just feels rote. He even goes for an ATB-like guitar lick in the drop amidst the house pianos that just doesn’t sit well with me. I don’t dislike this - or at least not that much - I’m just confused by how either artist felt the need to make it, because it really does not work.

#11 - “End of Beginning” - Djo

Produced by Adam Thein and Djo

How do I even begin to pronounce that? Is he D-J-O, Duh-Joe, Joe, Sho? Oh, who am I kidding? It doesn’t matter, you know him as Joe Keery from Stranger Things. He was in a psychedelic band for a while but left and has solo work as a musician out now, with this taking from his second album and not actually released as a single, just a breakout solo hit. Is it good? Well, listen… I wish he knew he wanted Steve. The only buzz I had heard about this is that it sounded just like Mr. Lacy’s “Bad Habit” and well, I actively laughed when certain elements of the song came in because they hit nearly exactly the same way as in that song. This is most likely an influence and definitely not worth suing anyone over, but that’s primarily because neither song is any good. The lyrics are largely about his connection to his home city of Chicago as well as the acceleration of his acting career, making a point about how well, he’s still from Chicago! Whatever version you get of him, Chicago’s still in him. Yeah, it’s safe to say it doesn’t have the lyrical intricacies or at least, intriguing moments, that “Bad Habit” does, or even, and it pains me to say this, its sonic depth, so surely I should like this even less? Well, no. Djo Mama’s voice is a lot less pursuant and awkward than Steve Lacy, who also came up with some actual earworms that I respect but never want to hear again, whilst Djo here is just yapping over some synthpop. Which is fine. Have your fun. My opinion doesn’t matter at the end of the day. Just… maybe make acting a priority.

#4 - “Training Season” - Dua Lipa

Produced by Kevin Parker

I wish Dua found an interesting way to be good. This is a great, funky pop song, a worthwhile follow-up to “Houdini” with some excellent atmosphere mostly found in the dynamic mix that I’m sure Mr. Tame Impala had a lot of involvement with. It may not be a psychedelic song by nature, but there are transitory phases that absolutely show he was on the boards for. This feels like a sequel to “Houdini”, if that’s not already the intention, as Dua isn’t being the carefree love-them-and-leave-them anymore, she’s genuinely frustrated that she doesn’t have a more consistent and intimate relationship. She’s sick of being in control in these relationships - if they can be called such - and wants someone to go there, to actually mean something to her and put that effort in. Yet it doesn’t hit as much as I want it to… it may be the replacement of the rubbery bass from “Houdini” with a focus on soaring psychedelic synths and a guitar tone I’m not really big on in the chorus. Maybe it’s just that this funk-pop sound isn’t all that new and in that case, it’s impressive that Dua has made it this far without sounding boring.

Conclusion

With that said, she still obviously gets Best of the Week because good God, this was a mediocre set. Honourable and Dishonourable Mentions would be overly charitable probably, but I am going to give Bryson Tiller some benefit here, specifically because “Whatever She Wants” does have a decent instrumental, whilst Djo takes the Dishonourable Mention for “End of Beginning”, God, even the title is awkward. As for the worst, Shy Smith I think takes this handedly for “Soaked” but… will it even last a second week? I don’t know, it’s easily the least essential and least likely to last song that debuted. As for what’s on the horizon… I don’t know. Thank you for reading, rest in peace to Steve Wright and I’ll see you next week!

[emlovesstates]

NYC: I have two football teams you only have one team

Buffalo :But they're not in NY

NYC:well, we're working on getting the Jets back in Queens

Buffalo: but they're not here yet are they

NYC:at least my teams has won a Super Bowl

Buffalo :*holds breath*

NYC: what are you doing

Rochester : he's holding his breath until he hears what he wants

NYC: too bad, I'm not saying

Albany:Say it

NYC: No

Albany :* slaps New York City*

Buffalo:* holding breath, and turning blue*

Albany: just say it dammit

NYC: it would be lying

Rochester: are you trying to kill our brother?!!!

NYC: no, but I don't want to say it!!!!!

Albany : New York City you better say it or I will slap you again!!!

Syracuse * unholy screaming* buffalo is gonna die

Buffalo:* about to pass out*

NYC: OK I take it back!!!

Buffalo :* open his mouth, so he can breathe again* thank you

Albany: I'm gonna call Dad and tell him that you tried to kill Buffalo

NYC: I didn't try to kill him he was doing it to himself

Albany: yeah, but you caused him to do it

In a meeting

New York's phone starts ringing

Gov: I have déjà vu

New York:* put the phone on speaker* hello Albany what's going on?

Albany: NYC cause Buffalo to hold his breath because he said that the bills have never won a Super Bowl and he wouldn't take it back until Buffalo almost passed out

New York: oh my God, how many times do I have to tell him not to bring up the fact that the bills have never won a Super Bowl and how many times do I have to tell him not to slander the Buffalo Bills tell your brother he's grounded and make sure Buffalo's okay,take him to the hospital I'll be at home in a bit.

Albany: OK Dad, New York City you're grounded

NYC: well, fuck dad Albany slapped me!

New York: for good reason

New York: Albany sweetie. I love you. I'll be home in a bit.

Albany:okay love you too Dad

New York:*Hangs up*

Gov: your kids fighting again

New York: yep

Utah overhears the convo and says: is that really how you wanna discpline them?

New York: yeah, whats wrong with how I raise my kids

Utah: one stop swearing in front of the children Albany also needs to be grounded and New York you should get better parenting tactics

New York: wow for someone who hasn't been parenting as long as I have you sure gotten a lot to say here's an idea let me raise my kids the way I want to raise them to don't tell me not to swearing from my children three Albany doesn't need to be grounded, because I honestly think New York City deserved to be slapped and I don't blame her because slandering the bills like that how dare he?

NY : I've been doing this parenting thing since 1776. How long have you been parenting since what 2015?

Utah appalled: are you seriously doing this right now?

New York: I am seriously doing this. My parenting tactics have gotten them through a whole bunch of shit. They survive this long. I also raised in Vermont, and he turned out perfectly fine.

Utah *shakes head* :thats besides the point, this is out of line even for you

New York: no the point is that you don't tell me how to raise my kids

California:* Pulls, Utah to the Side* Just let it go you're not gonna win this

Utah:* nods *

New York: now if you excuse me I have to go take care of my kids*

Gov: and that's why you don't slender New York's parenting

Virginia :Utah I've known York for a long time and he's a relatively good parent

NH: * to Vermont, *you've been awfully quiet

Vermont:yeah because I don't like it when people who don't know anything talk like they know everything *glares at UT*

California: you try being the parent of the most famous city in the US

Texas: shut up California

California: what it's true New York City is the most famous city in America LA is second

New York teleports to the hospital in floor that Buffalo is on and here is chaotic, screaming

New York:How tf did you guys let him do this for so long

Albany: we tried to stop him

Buffalo:* who is a light purple* Hi Dad.

New York: B, what were you thinking?

Buffalo: I didn't wanna loose

New York: lose what?

Buffalo:The argument, NYC was being mean

New York: and you decided to hold your breath

B: I won didn't I

New York: buffalo, that's not the point you put yourself in harms just a Win a silly argument

Buffalo:He started it

New York: buddy, is there a better ways to win an argument without holding your breath and almost killing yourself you could've said well at least my team is in this state

New York: and I'm going to deal with your brother later

Buffalo: Dad, I know he's an ass, but I was just upset and didn't want him to win... It was just teasing that got out of hand, I promise.

New York: well, I still have to talk to him about not stopping you

NYC: am I still grounded?

New York: I guess, but Buffalo promise me you will never do something that stupid again

Buffalo: Okay Dad I won't ever do it again

NY: good New York, Junior

NYC: yes, Dad

NY: you're not grounded but why on earth did you bring up the Super Bowl? ya know that's a very sensitive topic in this household

NYC:I wanted to hurt him because I was losing

NY: that doesn't make it any better just don't do it again buffalo lots of people are going to slander the Buffalo Bills mostly patriots fans,

New York :so your uncle Mass and uncle Connie and any of the New England states, including your older brother

New York: the other people who will slander the Buffalo Bills are the Dolphins fans mostly Florida. And also Jets and Giants fans but they're both New York team technically but they're still a rival to the bills

Buffalo: OK Dad, I understand

Gov teleports to the hospital room

Gov: hey, I just wanted to make sure everyone was okay

Buffalo* who's skin is almost back to normal*: we're Okay

New York: and nobody is grounded

Gov: babe, Albany should be grounded. She slapped her brother.

New York: find Albany you're grounded for a week

Albany: that's fair

Gov: that's better

[modernwizard]

Actual book photos!!! Isn't it pretty?

The inside is just as wonderful too, with essays, fic, and arts covering the many many genders of the Whoniverse!

Buy your copy today and support the trans and BIPOC programming at the Pride Center of Vermont! Sales end 3/31.

Gender Who? in print: https://www.lulu.com/en/us/shop/elizabeth-allen/gender-who/paperback/product-mgdp5k.html?page=1&pageSize=4

Ebook: https://www.lulu.com/en/us/shop/elizabeth-allen/gender-who-ebook/ebook/product-8dzv8r.html?page=1&pageSize=4

Just tagging some of my followers that I think might be interested. If you have already contributed or purchased, I thank you! Please consider reblogging so we get some more exposure in these last few days!

@spoonietimelordy @spoonietimelordy

@queen-of-meows @whovianuncle

@brokenbluedoors

@skzloona

@aeviart

@sonjalikestodraw

@thetransgirlwhoneverwas

@liria10

@zal-cryptid

@big-finish-sketches

@briliantthirteen

@shanoodleskidoodle

@voidgremlin

@wykart

@sclfmastery

@this-must-be-my-tardis

@ineternity-ao3

@random-trash04

@marysaxon

@madfanboyinablueblog

@wish-i-was-on-the-tardis

@thegreatfatnerd

@wanderingdreamshadow

@trufflesmushroom

@littlebigdalek

@time-warsnapshots

[tripleaxeldiaz]

I saw your sleepover weekend post so I thought I would say hello! @andweareunderway managed to get me invested in Buddie despite never seeing a single episode of the show and I’ve been blowing through fanfic like it’s going out of style (that’s me in the corner giving kudos to a bunch of your fics today). Can you give me some fic recs?

HELLO FRIEND WELCOME i’m glad amy got you over to the dark side 😂😂😂 also thank you VERY much for the kudos that’s so nice 😭😭😭 everything i love i have bookmarked but here are some of my very very faves as well:

leading with the left by the incomparable @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels . this is THE buddie fic and we are so lucky that mads has blessed us with it

of men and angels by the icon that is @extasiswings . the best character study of eddie ever written and i cry at least 5 times every time i read it

the trees of vermont series by the love of my life @elisela , the queen herself @thisissirius , and also one part by me 😂😂 it’s got EVERYTHING you could ever possibly want to read all and will probably make you wanna pack it all up and move to the mountains

to be found by @zainclaw who owns my ENTIRE heart with this one. it’s so soft and so sweet and SO WOLFY it’s incredible

leave the light on (i’ll be coming home) by @hmslusitania man oh MAN do i love this one, i’m generally not one for amnesia fics but it’s just SO well done and it hurts SO good

happy reading!!!

✨sleepover weekend✨

[lilhawkeye3]

This Ohio discourse has got me dying to create discourse about every other state now hehe so I officially present:

Hawk’s review of 36/50 US states!

In alphabetical order because that fuckin song “50 nifty United States” has been stuck in my head since fourth grade.

Arizona: Phoenix is hot. Can’t believe y’all choose to live in a place that gets haboobs. Saw Sen. John McCain in the airport. I feel that sums up the state well. 4/10

California: as a resident of the state of Oregon, I’m legally required to say fuck California😌 unless anyone else talking shit about Cali and then we got your back😤 SoCal vs San Fran vs Northern Cal are totally different worlds though. 7/10

Colorado: damn idk how y’all breathe there, them air is thin. But really pretty out there! 7/10

Connecticut: oh my god fuck New Haven. And Stamford, and Hartford, and— Yknow what? Let’s just toss the whole state into the Sound. For real, traffic is the WORST here and I’m so sorry that y’all gotta live like that. 3/10

Delaware: I cannot believe this is considered a state. There’s no difference between Delaware and Maryland/Pennsylvania. 1/10 should not be a state

Florida: “the only hills in Florida are the highway ramps and the Matterhorn!” —the shuttle driver at Disney World. He was right. Shit is flat as fuck here. And hot. And humid. The Gulf Coast is nice? But tbh it’s just all very touristy which is kind of a bummer. 5/10

Georgia: ...I can’t with the humidity or thinly veiled racism. But y’all got nice peaches! Also Black Panther filmed there so thank you for blessing us with that. 6/10 for fruits

Hawaii: okay pineapple farms are cool. Tbh I just feel really bad for how much mainlander/tourist bs all the islanders put up with. Ik price of living is v high and keeps going up. That said I did love Hawaii... although I was stung by a jellyfish. Hate those little bastards. 8/10 for wonderful people and nature

Idaho: as an Oregonian I’m required to also say fuck Idaho 😝 you da hoes. Okay for real tho southern Idaho has become v white white and kinda scary tbh. The northern part of the state is pretty chill tho. Also Oreida kettle chips are partly made in Idaho so I gotta give you half credit for that. 4/10

Illinois: at least you’re not Indiana. 4/10.

Indiana: I never want to step foot in Gary, Indiana again in my life. (Passed a Mack truck hauling a race car to Indy 500 though so that was cool.) 2/10

Iowa: I almost moved here. I’m so glad I didn’t. Why are the Quad Cities actually a group of five towns? I hate that. Also the roads were all cement, felt like driving on a sidewalk. Was also interesting because the second we got out of the city proper, it was just... corn fields everywhere. 2/10 y’all raising children of the corn.

Kentucky: I really don’t have anything to say about Kentucky. I thought the trees were pretty? 5/10 yeah idk

Maine: my relative has totaled two cars by hitting moose in Maine. Maine scares me. Or rather, the moose do. Also the lobster roll hype is real. And the coast truly is beautiful. 8/10 but an extra point for the moose bc I hate that relative so 9/10

Maryland: oh god Baltimore. Also I’m blaming you for the DC traffic because it’s on the land you gifted them. 3/10

Massachusetts: Patriots fans are the worst NFL fans (the racism is real, especially after fans burned the jerseys of Black players who knelt for the anthem). Liking Dunkin’ Donuts is not a personality trait. The North End in Boston is truly the best place to get pizza in the entire country. Western Mass is not the same state. And the Cape Cod bridges give me nightmares. 5/10 but cause I had to pay taxes two years and it really is Taxachusetts, knocking it down to 4/10

Michigan: it’s a lot bigger than I initially thought. 5/10

Minnesota: it’s Canada but in the US. Pretty driving through the southern part. Cops suck tho. 5/10

Montana: okay Montana is downright gorgeous. (Except Billings. Sorry, Billings.) I must include a photo. I wanna get a cabin here and just exist. 8/10

New Hampshire: can’t decide if it hates Massachusetts or wants to be Massachusetts. All it knows is that it’s better than Vermont. Which... y’know, valid. (If you wanna see NH culture watch North Woods Law tbh). 4/10

New Jersey: why are there so many goddamn highways in this state? Also there are more places to weekend trip than the Shore or the Poconos. Although you do have people pump gas for you just like Oregon, so... that’s valid. Things my friends have added: Newark airport is cursed (valid), the jughandles are nightmares (true), pork roll/Taylor Ham is good and so are bagels and New Jersey pizza (allergic so idk), and everyone is split on whether the shore is actually decent or not 😂 I give it a 3.5/10 out of spite

New York: NYC is fun, Upstate is MASSIVE but really beautiful. Long Island is... yeah I don’t have anything nice to say about Long Island. 8/10 For NYC, 6/10 for Upstate, -2/10 for Long Island, gives us an average of 6/10

North Carolina: very good peaches. Isn’t South Carolina. Keep it up👍🏽 6/10

Ohio: I already told y’all how I feel about this flat ass boring state. I feel no need to slander it any more lmao. 3/10

Oregon: she flies with her own wings, mi amor🥰 to list all the reasons I like Oregon (and the issues too bc it ain’t perfect), I would need a whole other post. I’ll just leave you with this picture I took of Mt. Hood, the queen of our Cascades. 11/10

Pennsylvania: so apparently PN is three states hiding in a trench coat like NY. There’s upstate, philly and Pittsburg. Personally I think they’re just trying too hard and wanna get the same recognition as NY. Meh. 5/10

Rhode Island: THIS FUCKIN SHAM OF A STATE Just merge it with Connecticut and be done with it!! It’s tiny. Providence sucks. There’s nothing unique about this state that you can’t find in Southern Mass (except MA has cheaper taxes so y’all come to work and shop in MA anyways smh). Also the fingers are really annoying to drive down to get to some beach areas haha. 2/10 you’re barely better than Delaware.

South Carolina: my Black father was invited to a party celebrating General Robert E Lee’s birthday. So... 0/10

South Dakota: very gorgeous, didn’t realize the Missouri River went this far west, but VERY LARGE. I mean it looks big on a map but then you get there and... yeah. No speed limit on highways is a great time though. And the Badlands have mountain goats! 6/10 bc while pretty, living there seems really hard. (Picture is me in the Badlands).

Texas: gave us Juneteenth and Beyoncé and JJ Watts. Thank you Texas. But is very big, got independence from Mexico to keep slavery (yikes), is like 97% private land (yikes) and is like the second or third largest state. Very big. That said, everyone I’ve ever met from Texas is lovely. 6/10.

Utah: Other than Idaho, this is the whitest state I’ve been to. Or it feels that way. Like a, the people crossed to the other side of the street and held their bags because I’m brown, state. And I don’t ski so I can’t even say that’s a good thing (I fell off the ski lift the one time I went, long story). Yeah 0/10.

Vermont: wants to be New Hampshire or Canada and can’t decide which. So it’s just kinda there. Pretty hills though. 3/10

Virginia: let’s be real we all forget that Virginia exists west of Richmond. Nova is a beauracratic and traffic nightmare and half our neighbors had to pass security clearance checks. Hampton Roads and beach area is a tourist and mosquito nightmare. But there were dolphins and I made snowmen on the beach. Good times. 6.7/10

Washington: again, legally required as an Oregon resident to say fuck Washington because it’s all your fault we now are getting a toll on the I-5 border. But you’re better than California. And the Sound is really cool for fishing, love Wicked Tuna. And the fish market. Best salmon I’ve had. Eastern Washington... y’all got Spokane but the rest is kinda sparse. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 8/10

Wisconsin: cheese is actually good. Again, pretty state, much larger than I initially thought. 7/10

Wyoming: this was the ONLY STATE I lost cell service in when diriving cross country. Kinda surprised it wasn’t Montana, but no, it was Wyoming. Views are gorgeous though so I was distracted either way. 4/10

Thank you for joining me on this cross-country edition of Tea Time with Hawk. Please respond with any reactions, corrections, addendums about any and all of the states mentioned. And thank you for taking part in this wholesome Clone Wars fandom discourse with me 🥰💕

DISCLAIMER: THESE RATINGS ARE ALL A JOKE PLEASE DO NOT ACTUALLY GET MAD ABOUT IT

[cattles-bians]

damie vibecca exes au part 21

post directory

em: viola and becs love their lil hikes

em: oh actually did we already designate hiking as a damie thing

em: hmm.

em: yknow what damie and vibecca can both enjoy their weekend hikes

em: they bring isabel and she’s RUNNING up the path and tires herself out in 10 minutes and rebecca and viola swap out piggybacking her

obsetress: yeah it tracks because they both like fitness and viola likes her walks

obsetress: plus viola's like "it's good for isabel"

em: vibecca power lesbians love the challenging trails and damie just enjoy the sights

obsetress: dani venting to jamie one night: they don't even LIKE hiking, but they still had to do the blackjack loop, and WE won't even do the blackjack loop,

em: dani and her fanny packs... every time she sees isabel on a trail she like

em: stuffs her pockets w granola akdhdkfhdj

em: drives viola NUTS she’s like we packed our Own snacks

obsetress: dani gets SO excited

---

obsetress: man i love these lil gay bitches

obsetress: no but um

obsetress: jamie gets in some fight w rebecca early on after they've reconnected

obsetress: prob about her dating vi tbh

obsetress: and jamie's so put off by the whole thing and is ranting to dani about it and dani's all like "you just need to have better boundaries, jamie, they're her choices, aren't they? not yours"

obsetress: and jamie just stares at her like.........................................

obsetress: "dani, you literally continued hooking up with viola for weeks after you broke up"

"oh, c'mon jamie, it wasn't weeks"

"no?"

"it was months"

em: dani shooting herself in the foot to like. correct jamie is so funny

em: not even ‘no that’s different’ or ‘no i’ve changed’ like ‘actually it was months’

obsetress: she says it w such a lil pleased smile on her face too

---

obsetress:

obsetress: like who the FUCk gave her the right???

obsetress: a whole babe

obsetress: she didn't need to smirk like this

em: god she’s so Hot

obsetress: just think about all the times she and viola get into the banter

obsetress: and this exact face

em: i know we veered dramatically into soft territory w exes au but vi extremely stubborn lloyd and rebecca lawyer do no harm take no shit jessel truly. have some spectacular arguments

obsetress: they have absolute blowouts

obsetress: and then blowouts after the blowouts iywkim

obsetress: like dani's do no harm take no shit but she and vi also enable the SHIT out of each other

em: like dani tried but dani wasnt like. fully baked yet

obsetress: yeah! and then when she finally does and breaks up with her, she's back in her bed a few weeks later

obsetress: rebecca is the first person to not take viola's shit and to tell her no and viola can't fucking stand it

em: jamies convinced it’s a ruse for more make up sex

obsetress: dani's like "no, babe, trust me, i know what that looks like and this––"

"wot"

"what?"

em: dani (hushed) no she’s regular mad this isn’t fun mad

em: jamie (hushed but incredulous) FUN MAD?!

obsetress: please tell me how dani explains fun mad

em: a lil eyebrow waggle and a wink but then i like

em: thought abt her going to lift jamie up on a bench ‘well she kinda’

---

obsetress: the way rebecca looks at peter when he is (seemingly) (unfortunately) good w the kids has me thinking about like

obsetress: rebecca seeing vi w isabel for the first time and just

em: turns out the evil landlord shes banging is also…… soft

obsetress: rebecca and jamie on the phone and rebecca's like "i know she's... a landlord and all, but you should've seen her with isabel"

"you've gotta be fucking kidding me, becs––"

"no, maybe you're too quick to write her off. maybe people can be more than one thing"

and jamie just groans

em: poor jamie and her class traitor ex gf

em: blows kiss to rebecca

---

em: dani: i gotta go to the bathroom i’ll be right back

em: jamie: ok love

em: dani; (elbows jamie) ive Gotta Go To The B

obsetress: screamed

obsetress: dani trips over her own feet as she gets up to go

obsetress: then i just start thinking about dani absolutely pouncing on jamie the second they get into the bathroom and then i just start thinking about. how often that happens

obsetress: bathrooms or closets or wherever else

em: dani has this 6th sense for places to sneak off to

obsetress: god she DOES

obsetress: she's so good at it

em: she enters a new building and is taking lil notes just in case

obsetress: meanwhile rebecca and viola exchanging a look while they wait, knowing EXACTLY where they're going

em: viola leaning in like how much time do we have and becs is like vi. where’s your decorum

em: then she looks down at her watch and lists it down to the second

obsetress: she pauses

obsetress: then

obsetress: "and another six minutes if––" and vi's like "she'll want to go again"

em: viola buffing her nails on her blazer: she’ll want to go again

obsetress: rebecca rolls her eyes but she's grinning

obsetress: "you're all too smug" "me? smug?" becs just shakes her head and tugs her in by the lapels of her blazer

em: damie coming back to a fairly chaste vibecca kiss: BLEH can you guys GET A ROOM

obsetress: rebecca's just verly placidly like

obsetress: "dani, your zipper is still down, by the way"

em: dani; thanks :)

---

em: dani clayton voice i’m braver and severely Weirder than ppl think

obsetress: she's a bit of a weirdo

em: see now i’m thinking about dani glancing away going dang i thought i was keeping it under wraps

obsetress: ngl i think about that a lot like

obsetress: she IS a weirdo but what does jamie know

obsetress: that she's like yeah she's a fucking weirdo

obsetress: like she's anxious and jumpy but jamie wouldn't call that weird

obsetress: what did she know and when did she know it

em: i’m thinking about jamie catching dani doing something like. idk eating a burger layer by layer or w a knife and fork and going

em: what a freak. i’m gonna marry her

em: dani tells jamie no this is a normal american thing and then when they go to vermont jamie realises no this absolutely is not

obsetress: she says something about it and dani doesn't even remember saying it in the first place

obsetress: "i didn't say that"

"you literally did say that"

"why would i say that"

(jamie taylor eyebrow raise) "you tell me"

(dani clayton flush and stutter) "i–– i..."

em: dani mumbles something like i didn’t think it’d pan out like this i just wanted the cool gardener to think i was. semi normal

em: jamie waggles her eyebrows like cool gardener???

obsetress: dani bumps her shoulder into jamie's "shut up"

"don't think i will, actually"

em: jamie starts to v seriously eat her burger layer by layer. danis like ‘ur taking the mick!’ and jamies like (sheepish) naw i just. wanted to see what it’s like

---

em: every so often they’ll run into someone who went to school w jamie or knew her as a youth and they’re like ‘wow you’ve mellowed out heaps’

em: therapy queen

em: theyre in a pub and someone’s like ‘as i live and breathe! jamie taylor! i heard you died! someone told me you were arrested for (crime that becomes bigger and more outlandish w every new person)’ and jamies like ‘aye’ and they’re like

em: all sharing a beer at a quaint little pub n this old acquaintance from before has these v chaotic stories and danis like

em: jamie? my jamie? u must be confused. jamie goes to bed at 9:30pm watching antiques roadshow

obsetress: jamie just grins a lil

em: danis like haha jamie wow ur so mysterious and (she is already casing the joint for places to sneak off too)

---

em: damvibecca sittin in a circle passing a joint around

em: a nice thought

obsetress: Wholesome

obsetress: dani falls asleep first, with her head in jamie's lap and they're all just kinda vibin and rebecca gets up to get her a blanket or smth and vi's just kinda like

obsetress: "you're really good for her, you know"

obsetress: all quiet and pensive

em: jamie takes a loooooonng pause and she’s like. i was sceptical but. you’re good for becs too

em: and then even quieter she’s like

em: thanks

em: the softest thank u from one jamie taylor

obsetress: rebecca gets back and looks back n forth between the two of them

"why are you two being weird"

"we're not–- what?"

"we're just sitting here, baby"

obsetress: rebecca narrows her eyes

---

obsetress: jamie likes vi for becs because vi reminds her to live a little

obsetress: and can also keep up with her temperament because holy shit did jamie hate all of becca's bougie shit

em: jamie absolutely has um

em: like a repairs pile that shes gonna get around to Some Day re fixin clothes etc and

em: as much as i love 'rebecca and jamie worlds most calm and collected no drama couple' im defs toying with like

em: their ONE Big fight is beccs throws out the repairs pile

obsetress: "i was gonna––"

"no you WEREN'T, jamie!"

em: jamies like i The Tool I Needed is outta stock i had to- and becs is like? what, like you couldnt make do?

em: and even then when the heat dies down its still v calm and civil but like

em: FINALLY a lil dramatic angle to jamie rebecca

em: dani loves the repairs pile bc she loves a project

obsetress: she's also very content to let jamie have her silly little thing

obsetress: because it doesn't bother her and jamie is very good at keeping it in her space

obsetress: rebecca asks her about it one day and dani's like "oh i'm just glad she has a hobby :)"

em: couple times jamie's like. shes been tryna repair this one chair for months and eventually shes like

em: (swings axe) winters coming

obsetress: dani just watches with the dopiest grin

obsetress: jamie's all wot

obsetress: and dani's like

obsetress: :) you're hot :)

em: danis like hey i know its a brisk autumn but um

em: if u wanna

em: mimes taking shirt off

obsetress: jamie does it

obsetress: jamie rolling her eyes as she unbuttons the top couple buttons then tugs her shirt over her head

obsetress: but she's grinning

obsetress: dani sneaking up behind her as she's sorting the wood and just leaning into her bare back

obsetress: jamie jumps "oi!" and dani grins and nuzzles between her shoulders

---

obsetress: been having so many becca feelings in our rewatch

em: oh gosh

em: i love her she truly is a tragic character

obsetress: same

obsetress: i just want her to live happily ever after in her lil power lesbian outfits with her lil power lesbian wife

obsetress: like she needs someone who can MATCH her

obsetress: her energy and her intensity and her passion

obsetress: and like she and jamie can push each other to be better but jamie’s just kinda like “lemme chill n do my gay little tasks” yknow

em: ya and like they Worked but they worked Much better as friends than anything romantic

em: jamies the lesbian best friend that’s like girl. stop settling for mediocre men with accents

obsetress: yeah!

em: jamie ‘how soon is too soon to ask out my good friend rebecca jessel after her v messy break up w peter quint’ taylor

em: and then rebecca ends up being the one like ‘have you ever thought about us?’ while jamies agonising over it like four months later

em: rebeccas a little go getter and jamie needs a little bit of a shove sometimes

obsetress: jamie, surrounded by three shovers,

obsetress: rebecca says it so casually over dinner like she’s talking about the weather and jamie’s like !?

obsetress: i can also see like

obsetress: rebecca says that bit about "have you ever thought about us" at dinner and jamie blanches and second guesses everything they do "is....... is this a date" becca just shrugs "do you want it to be?"

em: jamies motormouthing like ok but i cannot stress enough that i was comforting you about ur break up in a friend way no ulterior motives way i am ur friend first and foremost and rebecca just like

em: lets her get it out of her system

em: ‘well what about my ulterior motives’

obsetress: she WOULD

obsetress: "did you ever consider that maybe i had ulterior motives"

em: jamie: (pursing her lips, furrowing her brow that way she does) you had a messy break up with peter quint….. to seduce me.

em: rebecca: mmhmm

obsetress: jamie: me?

obsetress: rebecca: well, maybe a couple of reasons, but... yeah. you were up there

---

em: after i asked out [ex] i spent ages agonising over when it would be appropriate to kiss her (i know...) and then one night at a party she’s like ‘so why haven’t u kissed me yet?’ and i’m like are u fucken. mate it takes two to tango

obsetress: oh my god?

em: drawing from that

em: jamie thinks they’re taking it slow (but not that slow) and rebecca is like girl what

em: ‘i never took you for old fashioned’

‘wot, me?’

'mmhm’

‘old fashioned?!’

‘well, you haven’t kissed me yet-‘

‘you haven't kissed me! i figured you wanted to take it slow after p-‘ and then rebecca like full on dips jamie and kisses her

em: rebeccas like always wanted to do that at least once lol

em: jamie is speechless for a couple minutes

obsetress: rEBECCA

---

obsetress: thinking thoughts rebecca jamie same height but rebecca heels

obsetress: jamie looking up @ her all

obsetress: rebecca in her heels and is chilly and jamie getting up onto her tip toes to wrap her big coat around rebecca's shoulders

em: softtt

[rovewritesit]

Angel Of My Dreams (Chapter 5) John Deacon x Reader Series

GIF: @johndeac​

Apologies for the delay! Work has been an absolute shit fest. The big show I’m on got canceled, but we still have to finish the season at some point so oof. Also, my boss is moving to Italy? Pray for my sanity, folks.

Series Summary: After reluctantly joining a band with your childhood best friends, you are thrust into oncoming stardom with no sea legs and an overwhelming sense of anxiety. But you just might find your way, thanks to some seasoned pros by your side. And the interest of one particular bassist.

This series is a work of fiction and is loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Strong language. Feelings of anxiety. Angst (oooo!)

Chapter Notes: I've rewritten this chapter so many times that I don't even know what it is anymore. Angst is hard, my dudes! Why can't it all be flirty glances and quick banter?!

Song/Title Inspiration: Angel - Fleetwood Mac

Songs Mentioned:

Moonlight in Vermont - Frank Sinatra

Blues Run The Game - Jackson C. Frank

Taglist: @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @brianmays-hair @deacyblues @squishy-geckboye @hae-bee @aprilaady @theresalexis @uglipotata72829

- - - - - - -

September 1982 - The Music Inn, New York City

“Bri, get a load of all these fucking maracas!”

Brian makes his way over to where Roger is gazing at a massive wall adorned with shaker-filled shelves, dipping his head low to avoid the sea of guitars hanging from the ceiling above his long frame. 

Queen was back in New York for their first-ever appearance on Saturday Night Live. Finding time in between the intensive rehearsals during the week had been hard, but Freddie insisted they would make the time for his favorite New Yorkers. When the time was finally found, he, of course, was unavailable, off antiquing at some of Manhattan’s luxury spots but promised to meet up with the group later on. 

The Limbs managed to snag the other three men for a trip to the historic Music Inn. Nestled in the heart of Greenwich Village, the dingy treasure trove was located a stone’s throw away from the city’s most prominent folk clubs that boasted discovering the talents of Bob Dylan and Simon & Garfunkel. 

You were quite confident that your newfound English friends would love it. Every visible space was stuffed or covered with an abundance of musical paraphernalia. So much so that you had been in the store dozens of times without ever finding out what color the walls were. Its layout was always changing to fit the ever-growing amount of items displayed, the familiar specks of dust that sparkled in the sunlight being the only constants.

“Hey, Jeff!” Steve calls out to the eccentric owner. “Where are these from?” 

The aging hippie shuffles over. “Mostly South America,” he explains in his usual gravelly drawl. “A customer brought back some new shekeres from West Africa last week that have a nice sound to them.” Jeff motions up the sprawling wall. Roger immediately grabs a few, testing the sounds out against the ones Steve is already playing with - the two of them like kids in a candy store.

Jeff had been a good friend to The Limbs since their early teen years, having let the group spend hours on end attempting to learn every exotic instrument they could get their hands on. Anyone who entered the shop could count on him as a spirit guide of sorts to a wealth of worldly music. And while The Limbs had kept their first album fairly plain in context, they were already itching, particularly Steve, to experiment on the next album. Whenever that would be.

Now that a few more of their singles were moderately successful hits, Columbia Records was focused on milking it for all that it was worth. The execs were currently setting up an extensive American tour of the Mid - West Coast part of the country, all the major cities they hadn’t hit on their first tour. 

“Y/N,” Jeff gestures for you to follow him, probably excited to show you a new find seeing as you were always eager and willing to give them a test run. You make your way down the staircase lined with large balalaikas to the musty lower level filled with various sound equipment and electronic instruments. 

“What on god’s green earth would you use that for?” you hear Rich’s deep voice implore. He rolls his eyes as Eddie moons over an ornately engraved mandolin.

“It worked for Rod Stewart, didn’t it? That mandolin solo in Maggie May shredded,” he retorts. “Plus, look how pretty she is!”

You watch your feet as you carefully maneuver around the amps and pedals haphazardly strewn around the floor, following Jeff to the back of the room - taking special care to step around John, who is crouched low looking over the wiring of a particularly grody-looking amp.

Upon entering the store, he had taken off on his own right away, immediately entranced by the sprawling selection all about him. But you had caught the worn, far-off look in his eyes when he greeted you with a short wave earlier. You try not to let the lack of attention bother you as you pass him without so much as a glance up. The heartfelt conversation you had the last time they were in town had rooted itself in your memory. Spilling your guts like you did that night wasn't a common occurrence for you- figuring you were already easy enough to read due to the panicked expression often etched onto your face. 

Why him? Even your bandmates weren’t privy to the babblings of your intimate thoughts. It couldn’t just be his boyish tooth-gap or the pleasing line of his straight nose. Maybe it was the confusing mix of nerves and comfort you felt whenever in his presence. It was unlike the persistent butterflies you were used to when around attractive humans. Feeling instead like a gentle humming that you somehow sensed everywhere at once.

You’re brought out of your swimming thoughts as Jeff clears his throat loudly to get your attention. You must’ve been staring blankly at the floor for quite a while. He gestures to a bulky item draped in a tarp, as you give him a small apologetic smile.

“Oh yes, very pretty,” you smirk at him.

He rolls his eyes as he attempts to sweep the tarp off in a dramatic reveal, but in reality, it gets stuck. The man scrambles to uncover it, and as soon as it peeks out, you gasp.

“A theremin!”

You gaze at the ordinary-looking wooden cabinet in awe. It must be old, seeing as they were mostly compact now.

“You haven’t had one in ages,” you marvel, locking eyes with Jeff.

“Which means it’s been a while since I’ve heard your ambient screeches plaguing these walls.”

Your finger points to him in protest. “Hey, I was getting better until you sold the last one on me!”

“Well, I didn’t see you making a bid for it,” he playfully shrugs.

“Let’s hear those screeches!” Eddie yells out. Rich claps his hands excitedly beside him. You poke your tongue out at them, but your eyes catch John’s, and you quickly close your mouth. Still crouched, he looks on with mild curiosity wrinkled on his brow. He lightly raises them at you in silent encouragement.

You slowly make your way behind the instrument as Jeff plugs it into the wall. Turning one of the knobs, it hums to life as you check the metal attachments protruding from the wood frame. It really is old. You have no idea how to even begin to calibrate it. Taking a deep breath, you timidly bring your hands up in position.

It lets out a high pitched wail that burns your ears from being so close, and you yank your hands away from the field of current. Eddie and Rich erupt into cheers while John slowly stands, moving a bit closer to see the mechanism properly.

Jeff lightly pushes you back towards it in a gentle coax. This time you slowly bring your curled hand a reasonable distance away from the pitch antenna, keeping your other low on the one for volume. Squeezing your eyes shut to focus on the tone, you slowly move until you find your starting note. It was all about sense memory and your ears to fill the gaps with nothing to physically touch. 

Uncurling your fingers, you begin the opening notes of Moonlight in Vermont - the one song you had somewhat taught yourself through hours of painstaking practice. You fumble a bit, eliciting a squeak or two while trying to remember the hand placements that produce the proper notes. While you might “play” many instruments, you were middling at many, master of none. You make it through the first verse before your head starts to pound from your jaw-clenched concentration.

“Fuck the mandolin, let’s get that for the next album!” you hear Rich tell Eddie.

“Ah, yes, you’ve heard Pet Sounds. Now prepare your ears for The Limb’s sophomore attempt, Ghost Sounds,” 

Their banter is drowned out as John chimes in. “How on earth did you learn that?” You meet his struck expression and shrug lightly.

“Don’t downplay it, Bun. It’s pretty fucking cool,” Rich assures you. “And her knowing ASL also helps,” he explains to John.

“Sign language?”

“Oh yeah, Y/N’s mom is deaf,” Eddie reveals bluntly. You shoot him a look.

“Sorry, hard of hearing,” he holds his hands out in defense.

John is silent for a moment as he mulls the information over, causing a speck of tension in the room.

“Your mother’s never heard you sing?” he asks incredulously as if he can’t possibly imagine it.

You give a small smile. “No, I guess she hasn’t. But I was in the car with her the first time I heard us on the radio. I turned the treble down and the bass all the way up and she bopped along to the beat pretty well.”

Rich chuckles lightly at the story. “She’s always been hoot, hasn’t she?”

You nod gently. “Aptly put. That’s how she describes herself as a matter of fact.”

John shoves his hands deep in his pockets as he takes a look around the room, his cheeks a light pink. You're unsure of why.

“I’m gonna head out for a quick smoke,” you decide, patting Jeff on the shoulder. “I know how you hate it.”

He gives your hand a light squeeze before you make your way upstairs, hoping to catch John’s eyes, but he avoids yours yet again. 

A pleasing blend of harmonies can be heard as you hit the landing. You peek your head around a large assortment of bongos to find Brian strumming a small acoustic on the other side of the store. Roger, Steve, and Lawrence all crammed around, the four of them singing a rendition of Blues Run the Game. 

Your heart warms at the sight, remembering the times when you and the boys would sit around a campfire and croon out the same sad tune. Eddie and Rich will be pissed they missed this. Steve notices your presence and silently ticks his head for you to come join. You hold up your pack of Marlborough’s in response to him before finally slipping out the front, trying your best to not jingle the adorned bells too much.

A cool breeze promptly passes through the knit of your sweater. It’s late September, and New York has begun to really cool off. You pull down the sleeves to cover your hands as you light your cigarette, wincing a bit on the first inhale. It was a leftover habit from your college days- scarcely used, only in social situations, or to get out of awkward ones.

Taking in the familiar street, you can’t help but giggle at the day you were having. To be showing Queen around your old hangout still felt absurd. No matter how genuinely they seemed to like the company of your band, you couldn’t fathom them wanting to spend the day with you all. Weren’t there bigger and better musicians in this city to be hanging out with? 

The sound of a lighter flicking to life comes from your left, and you turn. John leans against the faded wall as he takes a drag, his eyes trained on the dirty sidewalk. 

“I’m sorry, i- if I offended you with my comment about your mother,” he professes quietly. 

Your brows shoot up in confusion. “What?”

“We have a friend whose father is deaf. A lovely man. I shouldn’t have been so insensitive.” He sighs, finally turning to face you. “It’s just that the memory of hearing your voice for the first time isn’t something one can easily shake. I mean that in a way that- it’s just a shame really. For her to not be able to share in it when it’s something so...” he looks as if he’s racking his brain for an appropriate word. “Well, singular.”

You suck in a breath at his words. In all your years, you had never gotten that as a response to your mother’s disability. It was mostly a polite, “Oh, really? I’m so sorry to hear that.” His honesty and consideration for your feelings knock the present hum of your body up to 100. 

You flinch as gentle burning hits your fingers, and you look down at your forgotten cigarette, quickly flicking it to the ground before crushing it under your heel. John shifts his weight from side to side, never taking his eyes off of you while he waits for you to collect your thoughts.

“I write out my lyrics for her so she can read them as poems,” you state simply, smiling up at him. “Sometimes she makes up her own melodies and sings them around the house. It’s not the easiest on the ears, but she’s pretty inventive.” His eyes crinkle as he returns your grin - his first genuine one of the day.

“So she’s heard music before?”

“Oh yeah. She has nerve deafness, which didn’t start till her late twenties. She actually spent a lot of time around here when she was younger. Bitter End and The Gaslight are just a few blocks away.”

He hums lightly as he stares at you- like you’re a puzzle whose pieces are just beginning to fit together.

“Can you teach me something in sign language?”

Once again, your brows shoot up, shocked by his response. You blink a few times, trying to think of what to say. Going with the only thing that pops to mind, you sign out a phrase as he watches your hands intently.

“And what does that mean?”

You smirk, “You are a cheesy cow.”

“I’m sorry?” he laughs out.

You repeat it back slowly while signing along. “You. Are. A. Cheesy. Cow. It’s the first thing my mother taught me how to sign.”

He runs his hand over his jaw as he chuckles. “Rich was right. A hoot she must be.”

“I’m pretty shit, to be honest, and she read lips, so it’s mostly used for snide comments during extended family gatherings.”

You watch as he puts out his cigarette and carefully takes a step closer to you. “I’m assuming your colourful vocabulary extends to those instances as well.”

“Right you are.”

“Freddie will love that,” he snickers. “He always seems to collect vulgarities in other languages wherever we go.”

Your attention is torn away as a sleek black car rolls up to a stop at the curb. It’s out of place in the middle of the street filled with old and worn buildings, which can similarly describe the people who mill about.

“Speak of the Queen herself,” you laugh as a sunglass-clad Freddie steps onto the sidewalk.

“Oh, isn’t this quaint!” he exclaims, peering into the shop window. He straightens as he turns to you, hands-on-hips.

“Deacy. Thumper. Are we fans of freezing our tits off, or shall we go inside?”

You give John a small smile and push yourself off the wall, making your way over to Freddie, who immediately pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. The bells against the door ring out as you all enter the shop.

“Ah, Deacy,” Brian pokes his head out from one of the narrow aisles, still in a constant crouch to avoid the instruments above his head. “I was looking for you. Found these adorable teeny guitars I thought might be good to bring back for the kids. What do you think?”

“Kids?” you mumble to yourself as John makes his way over to inspect them.

“Brian has two, and John’s already up to 3. Maybe we should’ve nicknamed him Bunny.” Freddie laughs, nudging your arm. “You know… fucking like rabbits,” he expands due to your lack of chuckling.

He leans into your field of vision as he studies your statue-like expression, eyebrows knit in confusion. His eyes take in your ashen face and your lifeless expression. You weren’t even sure if you were breathing. When you lock your eyes with his, you know he understands from the sheer size of how big they become. He straightens up, glancing around quickly as if looking for something to put out a fire.

“Freddie!” Steven dances over, clicking a pair of castanets in his hands. “I wanted to show you thi-”

“So sorry, love, we can’t. Y/N promised to come to a fitting with me, and we’re already late," he announces loudly, pulling you by the arm and out the door before anyone can react.

- - - - - - -

You blankly stare at your reflection in the long mirror. Freddie had instructed his stylist to pull some outfits for you to parade around in as he tried on a bevy of metallic coats.

“You’re an idiot,” you tell the girl staring back at you.

Freddie sashays over, a shag jacket swaying with him as he places his hands on your shoulders, surveying the strappy dress you were currently squeezed into.

“Oh yes, this will do for the after-party,” he instructs.

“I’m not going.”

He heaves a deep sigh. “Darling, you already refused the ticket I got you for the show. You’re coming to the party,” he declares, turning away to look at more options.

“This isn’t really me…” you mumble, gesturing to the dress.

He regards you with a small smile. “Exactly. I say this with love, but you need a look, Y/N. Something that makes you feel unstoppable,” he gestures to his body as he twirls towards you. “Don’t you want to shock them?”

You chew your lip as you ponder that sentiment. Dawn usually just shoved you into whatever ensemble she had picked for you - leather jackets, monochromatic sets, tight jumpsuits. She kept hoping you’d find a style you fancied, but you had yet to find anything remotely likable under the lights of the stage.

“To be honest, I just want to be able to feel comfortable out there," you sigh. "But I can’t strut around in flashy outfits or conduct a whole crowd like you do." Huffing as you collapse onto one of the white couches around you. He perches beside you, throwing an arm around the back of the sofa.

“Then don’t,” he says simply.

You snort a response as you cross your arms over your chest.

“I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but have you tried showing them a bit more of yourself?”

“I can’t do that.”

He turns to you now, grabbing your attention with his eyes.

“And why not?” he questions.

You gaze down at your hands, which you’re now wringing together in your lap. “What if it’s nothing spectacular?” you whisper out the criticism that you'd drilled into your mind for the past year.

Freddie laughs lightly as he stands. “Let’s not start lying to ourselves, shall we?” He moves in front of you and kneels, now at eye level, making so you can’t look away.

“Sometimes people go to a concert for an escape. A big bloody show with dazzling lights and petite men galavanting around a stage in spandex tights,” he smiles. 

“But most of the time they just want to find a piece of themselves in it, don’t they? Commonality. They want to hear you, see you, and feel just a little less alone than we all know we are. I saw just a slice of it at your concert, and it was indeed something spectacular. So take that as you will.”

You’re not one to cry much, but your eyes soften as you take in the icon of a man in front of you. A man loved by millions, who was currently filling in as your personal rock n’ roll fairy godmother.

“You’re a fantastic person, you know that?” you tell him genuinely.

“Yes,” he quips as he gets to his feet. “Now, are we done scurrying around the real problem at hand?”

You sigh as you look away, firmly willing yourself not to break the dam of bottled emotions threatening to spill out. Why couldn't you just feel numb? It would be better than the wave of childish self-pity you found yourself in.

Freddie huffs at your reaction. “Oh, you brat. Sorry to tell you, but you’re an open book, my dear. And not one of those big pompous things Brian reads. A bloody children’s book. One filled with pictures.”

You're sure you’ve now bitten through the entire top layer of your lip as you contemplate how to even begin.

“I’m an idiot,” you shrug to yourself yet again.

“No,” he points a finger at you. “You’re decidedly not. Though I am curious as to how someone who’s as big of a fan as your friends say you are, missed out on that detail.”

“I’m not sure either. I mean, I listen to your albums and go to your show, but I guess I didn’t pour over the tabloids or press interviews or anything like that.”

Freddie nods along as he sifts through another rack of jackets, choosing an incredibly tight white leather number.

“I assumed you knew,” he answers while glancing at his reflection. “And I would say Deacy should know better, but he’s not quite himself at the moment.”

“What do you mean?” you press, suddenly much more interested in the conversation.

He turns to you, palms up in explanation. “It’s not that he wouldn’t normally be charmed by your shy presence and occasionally crass mouth… But I’m a bit worried he’s finding comfort in your smiles for the wrong reasons.”

“Huh?”

Sighing heavily as if debating if he should keep skirting around his words, he holds your gaze. “An impending divorce is crippling lonely, even if it is somewhat amicable.”

His mouth is brought into a pout as you suck in a sharp breath. 

Divorce. All your previous interactions play through your head from a different angle. Pity sneaks up on you as you remember John’s advice he’d given you. The concept of home is a funny thing. You scoff out loud at how your childlike crush had skewed your interpretation of your relationship with the man.

“I’m usually the one singing his praises,” Freddie muses, breaking you out of your inner monologue of resentment towards yourself. “But he seems more lost than usual at the moment.” 

He gently lifts your chin. “I don’t normally meddle in- well, actually I do. Just don’t want to see you get hurt, Bunny. Not when the world is soon to be at your feet.”

"I'm fine," you lie, gently brush away his gesture. "I barely even know the guy. I was just shocked to have my silly fascination with him interrupted. Stupid, really."

"Don't do that," he exhales. "Don't put it on yourself. You'd have to be blind to ignore the fact that he's quite taken with you."

"I'm fine," you repeat, making your way into the back to change out of the ridiculous dress that suddenly felt even tighter now.

Shutting the door slowly, you let out a deep breath. It's all good, you tell yourself. Of course you got caught up in the attention of a world-renown musician. Who wouldn't? It's nothing special. As Freddie said, he's not even acting like himself. Although you were indeed in true form- getting caught up by the slightest of interactions. Unconsciously playing them as a loop in your head. You can't help but cringe at your own escalation of the situation.

Squaring your shoulders, you take in the image of yourself in the dress again. Perhaps it was time for you to shock them all.

- - - - - - -

“And so my grandfather goes out to the alley and sees her just wailing on this scrawny man. I mean, really going to town. So he pulls her off him, and the dude’s got a black eye and a bloody nose. And he’s like, “Thanks mate, thought she was gonna kill me there.”

Roger ruffles your hair in response to your poor attempt at a British accent. The group of cast and crew around you chuckle at the gesture. 

You had decided that if you were going to be forcibly dragged to this after-party by your bandmates, you would at least aim to make it worthwhile. A debut of your new mentality.  One where you weren't just acting the part of a rising rock star, but living it. 

Which is why at the moment, you found yourself the center of attention, surrounded by the cast and crew of SNL laughing along to your amusing story. But this was all hinged on you carefully, avoiding the presence of John Deacon at all costs. Which, in reality, wasn't very hard to do- you had yet to see him since arriving an hour ago.

“Oh my god, who was it?!” the young cast member beside you presses. You think her name is Julia, but the sheer amount of people you'd been introduced to was dizzying.

"That's exactly what we asked him when he told us. All he said was that it was some man with big lips who was in a fur coat and looked like he hadn't eaten in a month..."

The cam op across from you gasps, "It was MICK JAGGER? God bless your grandfather, I would've wept if she murdered him."

"So would my mom AND grandmother," you laugh. "Give us each a glass of wine, and it's basically a Mick fan club."

"Who else?" Brian taps your leg, surprisingly urging you to divulge more gossip.

You can't help but smirk as the group leans forward intently.

"Robin Williams?" you tease as their eyebrows all raise.

"Horrible tipper, but he makes up for it by performing dirty puppet shows with the napkins."

"Sounds about right," funnyman Brad Hall confirms, offering you another drink.

You politely decline, determined to keep your wits about you this evening. "I'm gonna go grab some water. Anyone want anything?"

The group shakes their heads, but Lawrence jumps up to join you on your trek to the crowded bar.

"Wouldn't it be insane if this was us one day?" he exclaims as you weave your way through the mass of bodies littering the Capitol Grill. 

You smile up at him, "Dream big, buddy."

"Oh, I intend to," he confirms you as you spot Eddie and Rich waving you over from a spot at the bar. 

Rich promptly wraps his arm around your shoulders as you join them. He always had a stoic way of letting you know he saw through the cracks in your poorly constructed armor. Taking the role of a caring older brother, more so than your own.

"Have we lost Steve again?" Lawrence asks the group.

Eddie nods across the room. "He's exactly where you think he'd be," he scoffs as you catch a glimpse of Steve, trailing Freddie like a lost puppy.

"Um, excuse me?" a short girl mumbles from behind Eddies' denim-clad shoulder. He turns, glancing down.

"Hiya," he regards her casually, causing her a deep blush to creep across her cheeks. She shoves a napkin and pen at him.

"C-could I get an autograph? Please?"

Eddie smirks at her flustered appearance, making sure to brush her fingers as he grabs the items out of her trembling hand.

"And what beautiful name should I be making this out to?"

She lets out a jarring high pitched giggle as she stumbles over her words. "Oh, uh, Shelley."

"Well, here ya go, Shelley," he hands the napkin back to her, now adorned with his messy scrawl. "Maybe I'll see you later."

She squeaks as she hurries back to her shrieking friends who are huddled conspicuously off to the side.

"Gross," you state. "She's a child. Probably one of the executive's kids." 

He rolls his eyes dramatically. "Gotta keep em' interested, Bun. As the heartthrob of the group, it's my sworn duty."

"Slow your roll there, Rob Lowe," Rich interjects. "I think Y/N's giving you a run for your money in this dress."

You glance down at the Freddie approved ensemble. It was eye-catching for sure, precisely what you were going for. It's black suede straps crisscrossed strategically against your body, giving peaks of the skin underneath.

"It looks good, Bun," Rich assures you.

“Guys,” you all turn your attention to Steve, who has just joined the circle clumsily. His pupils are blown wide from his current blood alcohol content, and he sways slightly on his heels.

"I- I have something to say," he announces to the group, getting your attention. You all wait patiently as he hesitates, clearing his throat twice before lowering his voice. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m gay.”

You glance around to the other boys whose expressions mirror your own warm smile. You’d all known Steve was gay since high school, not that any of you had talked about it. You had just assumed it was something unspoken. That he’d tell you whenever he was ready or met someone good enough to introduce to you all.

Steve gapes at your expressions. "Where is the shock? I was expecting shock and awe, people!"

"Steve, please don’t take this the wrong way. But I’m assuming we’ve all known for a while," Rich says gently. You all nod lightly in agreement.

"How?"

"Do you remember the types of girls who used to throw themselves at you? Like Becky Whale? Man, I would’ve killed for Becky Whale to throw something at me. But you never took them up on it," Lawrence elaborates.

Steve smiles around at all of you, his shoulders visibly relaxing.

“I had a crush on Eddie in high school,” he confesses.

Eddie pumps his fist lightly. “Fuck yeah.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Lawrence exclaims. “You just had to boost that ego, didn’t ya? I know pretty boys are great and all, but I’m the one with the big soft cuddles. People love big soft cuddles!”

Rich expands his arms as he brings you all in for a hug. 

You kiss Steve gently on the cheek. “I’m proud of you, bud,” you whisper.

"Thank you guys, I just felt like it was time. And now that that's out of the way," Steve grunts as you all untangle yourselves. “I’m gonna go find Freddie. He said he’s taking me out to a club after this!”

He skips away with a grin, back towards Freddie, who catches your eye with a knowing smile and winks. It seems you weren’t the only band member who had found a fairy godmother in Mr. Mercury.

You all lightly laugh affectionately at your friend until Eddie and Lawrence wander off to scope out the food situation. You lean against the bar next to Rich, glancing around at the loud laughter erupting from the outgoing crowd. One person noticeably sticks out. A sullen John Deacon sits at the end of the bar, hunched over what looks like a glass of whiskey.

"Looks like he's in need of a friend," Rich surmises.

You tear your eyes away from the sorry sight to look at him. "They're around here somewhere," you shrug.

He rubs your arms up and down lightly before slinking into the crowd, knowingly leaving you alone. 

You sneak a peek over at John. He runs one hand through his curls as the other absentmindedly stirs the straw of his sweating drink. You watch him sigh, bringing the glass to his lips and gulping down the spirit without so much as a wince. 

Hesitantly making your way over to him, you rub your clammy hands over the expensive material of your dress. This is the opposite of avoidance, you scold yourself, silently willing your feet to change direction. But your willpower has seemingly left the building.

You carefully perch yourself on the stool next to his, as not to disturb his brooding. He glances over quickly, doing a double-take when he realizes who it is.

"Oh, hello there," he greets you with a small smile. "I didn't know you had arrived."

You nod your head lightly. "How could you? It seems you set up camp over here."

"Ah, yes," he breathes, straightening his posture. "Wasn't our best tonight, I'm afraid. Not much to celebrate."

You take a sip of your water as you continue to nod silently.

"Actually," he begins, angling his body towards yours, almost slipping off his stool as you notice his apparent intoxication. "I was thinking about that conversation we had. When I met your spritely grandfather."

"Oh?" you question. Keeping your face neutral even though your heart was already buzzing at the fact.

"Yes. Mostly about how naive I was—all that bloody nonsense about finding a home. Do me a favor and never take my advice, will you? You'll end up completely wrecking yours."

This was a bad idea.

"It's just- you draw these lines for yourself in the sand," he drawls, waving his hands about in front of him. "A stupid phrase, really. Where did it even come from?"

"The Bible," you tell him quietly.

He lets out a big sigh, rolling his head back to stare at the ceiling.

"Well, it's gotten it wrong before, hasn't it?"

You simply hum an acknowledgment, too scared to probe for fear of where this was going.

"Anyway, you draw these lines. Moral, physical, promises you make to yourself, things you swear you’d never do, dreams to accomplish," he lists out. "But sand moves about, dunnit? It blows all over the place. Makes a mess. Gets in your sandwich. And those lines blur. Or fade away. And all of a sudden, you've crossed them without even knowing! Broken those promises. Skipped right over those dreams."

He's too far gone in his rant to register the growing panic sweeping across your features.

"You were right. Sometimes you look in the mirror, and it's just a complete stranger staring back at you, isn't it?"

Trying to keep your breathing steady, you stare at the crumbling man before you. He runs his large hands along his face before ducking back into his former position, signaling for the bartender to bring him another drink.

This is precisely why you should've stuck to your original plan. What were you supposed to say to the man who was so obviously hurting from his failed marriage? So much so that it was pouring out of him. You know that if it weren't for the alcohol, he wouldn't be confiding any of this to you.

But there was a reason the boys called you the mom of the group, and it wasn't because you were the only female. You feel a pang of need to comfort him. You gaze at him, not with pity, but an overwhelming sense of empathy for the man and make up your mind.

You clear your throat to answer, brushing away your own warnings about how it would only sink you deeper into your fascination with him.

"I was wrong, actually," you start as he brings his head up to look at you. "And you know what phrase I hate? That people don't change."

He furrows his brow but remains silent as you continue.

"Maybe we're not made up of lines in the sand. Maybe we're the wind?" You try not to cringe at yourself and your poor use of metaphor. "And winds sometimes blow in different directions... but that's okay because it's where life is supposed to take them." Falling silent, you decide to quit while you’re ahead. 

You're not ahead. You're not even out of the gate. What the fuck was that?

A slow smile inches onto his face as he holds your stare. "How did you get so wise for someone your age," he teases.

"And what age would that be?"

His mouth opens and closes as he studies your face. "Twenty?"

"Mm, close. Twenty-four."

"Really?" he ponders. "Freddie mentioned you dropped out of university."

"Ah, yes. The university I could only go to after working to afford it," you explain. 

He continues to stare, the look in his eyes shifting slightly as he takes you in. A look that matches the color and intensity of uncharted, open water. You need to get out of here.

"Well, that explains your extraordinary use of analogy then."

Dragging your eyes off of his, you glance around at the party you were missing. Gladly missing, unfortunately. 

"I should go check on Steve. He's having a bit of a night," you tell him as you stand. "Try not to drown yourself in those," gesturing to the new glass of whiskey in front of him.

"How can I drown myself? I thought I was the wind," he points out with a grin.

Before any more banter can ensue, you simply smile and make your way back to your friends. Thinking to yourself that maybe lines in the sand weren't so bad. And that perhaps it was time for you to start drawing some of your own.

[kckv]

The Braavosi smiled

That run rate is way above what you will call a test match s/r . The tryouts will nike air max 102 essential white take place at the Las Cruces High School Football Field located at 1755 El Paseo Road in Las Cruces, New Mexico. I also wish the media presents in a positive way. Gemini. Shelby, the original owner of Uncle Tom, and who sells him to a trader, from the pressure of a sort of pecuniary necessity, is by no means a bad character; his wife and son Mens JORDAN Hoodie are whatever honor and humanity could wish; and, in a word, the only white persons who make any considerable figure in the book to a disadvantage are the villain Legree, who is a Vermonter by birth, and the oily-tongued slave-trader Haley, who has the accent of a Northerner. Smith died in 1972.. I can still grip a knife. The Braavosi smiled. Having been obliged to record so many trials in which justice has been turned away backward by the hand of law, and equity and common humanity have been kept out by the bolt and bar of logic, it is oneil mellény nike jean jacket a relief to the mind to find one bdsm puma recent trial recorded, in North Carolina, in which the nobler feelings of the human heart have burst over formalized limits, and where the prosecution appears to have been conducted by men, who were not ashamed of possessing in their bosoms that very dangerous and most illogical agitator, a human heart. Ser Kevan stamped the snow off his boots, removed his cloak, tossed it to her. Con una percezione del caldo, fantini e allevatori che dal primo gennaio non potranno pi?contare sulla possibilit?di poter lavorare in Italia.. With a scattering of seasoned panko breadcrumbs to top it off, this mega rich mac "puts a shadow over all other mac and cheeses" and is well worth a road trip any time of year.. I keep picturing her to myself now. My crown, the queen thought. As we watched the family pet sniff and lick you, we wondered in our hearts what the future had in store as you grew into a woman. The memory controller in the 975X Northbridge incorporates Intel "Memory Pipeline Technology" as well, which accelerates transfers between kimono long femme grande taille system memory and the CPU.. High property taxes are the major concern in the town of 326 people where a lot of land is taxed under the Tree Growth and Form and Open Space Law. Next morning at nine o’clock precisely I was with her again. "We're bringing a C 17, the globemaster, the one you see on TV all the time carrying troops. But afterwards I detected in her every day something new of which I had known nothing, as though it had been intentionally concealed, as though the girl were hiding herself from me — and what a joy there was in this discovery.. And when a group of 703rd officers traveled to Lincoln in November 1943 to pick up their brand new B 24s, Stewart was part of the group that helped Reus celebrate his birthday. The 0 62mph sprint takes just 4.7 seconds thanks in part to the 4MATIC all wheel drive system, which is driven through a nine speed automatic gearbox.While the grip from a standstill means the 0 62mph time is quite incredible, it doesn't feel as rapid as it sounds on the road. This day is a local holiday in Norther Ireland and is celebrated as a victory day. “I waited for Hobb to pull the fresh loaves from the ovens, my lady. I know you will have concerns and questions. Food. The report also provides company profiles and competitive strategies adopted by the key players in the global HMA market.Reasons to Buy the Report :The report will help the market leaders/new entrants in this market in the following ways:report segments the HMA market comprehensively and provides the closest approximations of the revenues for the overall market and the subsegments across different verticals and biciclete rusesti vechi regions. Because, he would conclude, verily, that this preacher would adidas mariposas be worth more to him than a dozen overseers. Let's take an actual example. The city's 2017 2018 budget would start May 1, 2017. Though, indeed, why shouldn’t I question her if I got a chance; but it wasn’t that. The top of the leaf, above the blister, may be off color. Andalos. He is underrated and despite being a former number 1 pick he still has that underdog characteristic that will blend in with the brand. We have supplemented the USL list where this information is available to us with players' hometowns and colleges they will be attending for 2004 2005. But CarMax Auto Superstores Inc. It’s very simple! I went straight to her, boldly and honestly. Grade: C. It difficult to maintain that position for the whole night though so she invented the beauty pillow. Anna Andreyevna told me that he returned home in such a state of perturbation and excitement that he had to go to bed. Below is more information on Woman Sex and the City: A Parody of Love, Friendship and Shoes in Green Bay, Mousetrap in New London, and You in Menasha, and Old Lace in Manitowoc, of Avonlea in De Pere, Importance of Being Earnest in Green Bay, Pericles in Appleton, Jr. Also, a treadmill carries you forward, so your body has to work in a slightly different way, which is arguably slightly adidas mariposas easier than propelling yourself on the road. “Roose Bolton has Lord Eddard’s daughter. A surplus in food distributed to the needy in Putnam County was expected as a result of President Kennedy's first executive order which would provide for a wider variety of food and increased amounts as well. Ten zattini promoção de botas eleven twelve. The SLR now has, thus, regained its earlier status of being a tool for providing a captive market for government securities. Asha found two northmen bleeding by the eastern wall not far from the postern gate, with Lorren Longaxe, Six-Toed Harl, and Grimtongue standing over them.. When he claimed the eagle that had been Orell’s, he could feel the other skinchanger raging at his presence. SL must learn to stay at the wicket first 10 overs. One reason is there are few such events which combines balloon races with an air show, said executive director Sylvia Danner. His master appears to have been a very ordinary man in every respect,—to have been entirely incapable of estimating him in any other light then as exceedingly valuable property, and to have had no other feeling excited by his extraordinary faithfulness than the desire to make the most of him. I think we might have caught them a little bit, but I saw them play twice and they are a really talented team, they took apart two really good teams. Marquette Mountain's terrain parks feature jumps, boxes and rails. Talk about tough, he was tough. A safe place, beyond my sister’s reach.”. Lyseni, at a guess … but the man whose lap she filled was from the Seven Kingdoms. Watch the video below that shows he was in no rush to rob the place, waiting patiently for a teller. After that they had opportunities to kill the game off, but dropped a catch, missed a stumping, and couldn't hit the stumps.. Kevin Werbach, a legal studies and business ethics professor at Wharton, agrees.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 7: Forget Everything You Know]

Hi y’all! I just wanted to take a moment to thank you all so much for reading and for showing me and my fics some love. You better believe that I see EVERY. SINGLE. reblog, comment, tag, and message, and they mean the absolute world to me! I know that a lot of content creators are frustrated and taking breaks right now, but rest assured you will not be able to get rid of me if even a SINGLE person looks forward to something I write. I’ll finish this fic (eventually), and I’ll finish the next one too (it already has a name!), and I won’t disappear or leave the Queen/BoRhap fandom at any point in the foreseeable future. Lots of love to you all, stay safe, and I hope you enjoy! 💜 💜 💜

Chapter summary: Y/N brings home some friends; Brian attempts an intervention; John draws a line; Roger gets an answer.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @loveandbeloved29​ @killer-queen-xo​ @maggieroseevans​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @joemazzmatazz​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @namelesslosers​ @inthegardensofourminds​ @deacyblues​ @youngpastafanmug​ @sleepretreat​ @hardyshoe​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @sevenseasofcats​ @tensecondvacation​ @bookandband​ @queen-crue​ @jennyggggrrr​ @madeinheavxn​ @whatgoeson-itslate​ @brianssixpence​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

“Smile, everyone!” Your dad peeks through the viewfinder of the Canon F-1 and beams. “One...two...three...say Queen!”

“Queen!” you all shout gleefully. The flash illuminates the dining room, and you blink away momentary blindness. The table materializes back into vision: lobsters, clams, haddock chowder, sourdough bread, fried oysters, pierogis with Vermont cheddar cheese, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes...and, of course, Boston cream pie for dessert.

“Ah, perfection,” your dad sighs contently. “Please continue, Mr. Mercury.”

“Mr. Mercury!” Brian whines, incredulous. “Like he’s got a bloody PhD or something!”

Freddie cracks a lobster claw. He hasn’t taken his sunglasses or wrist-full of clanging bangles off all afternoon. Your parents are profoundly confused by him, but welcoming nonetheless. “I’m a professor of lusciousness. Pay attention and you could learn something.”

Brian rolls his eyes and dunks a hunk of sourdough bread into his chowder.

“So,” Freddie tells your mother between bites of lobster dripping with drawn butter. “Our darling damsel in distress was in the clutches of that horrid, dodgy wanker when none other than our very own Roger Meddows Taylor—”

“You weren’t even there!” Brian protests. “I wasn’t even there! This is, what, a third-hand account?!”

“Eat your soup, peasant. Thank you. Anyway, our beloved Roger comes raging out of nowhere, red-faced, nostrils flaring, a terrifying sight to behold, grabs this guy by his hair and slams his despicable face directly into a marble column. Broken nose, cracked orbital socket, blood everywhere! It was magnificent. I’ve never been more proud.”

“Good for you!” your mother cheers, patting the back of Roger’s hand encouragingly. He smiles at her, warmly, radiantly, like the wildfire he’s always reminded you of. And you marvel at how every human on this earth is made of the same fundamental components—blood and muscles and vessels and nerves, hearts and enigmatic brain matter and ribs, vulnerable parts, armored parts, all webbed together like nature’s own organic circuit board—and yet the marks they leave on you can feel so different: burns, scars, bruises, shadows, imprints that are deep enough to brush bone and never fade.

“Mom, the guy could have died!”

“Did he?” she asks innocently.

“Nope,” Roger says.

“Well then, Mr. Taylor here is a hero in my book.”

“Mr. Taylor!” Brian groans.

“I was petrified he would turn out to be the son of an executive or producer or something and the band would be ruined,” you say. “Fortunately he was just someone’s annoying frat brother from college who already had a reputation for being a sleazebag. So, we were in luck.”

“You were in luck that Mr. Taylor was there,” your mother points out, gazing at him dreamily. This delightful English boy is going to be my son-in-law and give me gorgeous, doe-eyed grandchildren, that look says.

“Yes, a literal superhero,” John says ruefully, sipping a Manhattan. Your dad has a passionate love for mixing cocktails, especially for guests who also happen to be rock stars.

“Mom. Don’t make his ego any bigger, please. I’m begging you.”

Roger snarls around a mouthful of Boston cream pie, sending your mom into a fit of giggles.

“I’m just glad you’re okay, dear.” She smooths your hair. “And that you have people to keep you safe all the way over there across the ocean, and that you’re happy.”

“Yes, your work environment is much improved, isn’t it?” Brian says. “That supervisor you had at the hospital was an absolute bear!”

Your dad strokes his short grey beard. “Well...” he admits. “That may have been my fault.”

Brian’s brow crinkles. “Really?”

Your mom turns to you. “You didn’t tell them?!”

“Oh, is there a scandalous backstory?” Freddie inquires, elated. “Do tell, darling!”  

“Once upon a time, in a kingdom far far away—just kidding, it was here in Boston—my archnemesis Patricia and my dad dated.”

Roger drops his fork, appalled. “No!”

Freddie’s nose wrinkles in revulsion. “Why?!”

Your dad rocks back in his chair and laughs loudly, heartily. “She wasn’t always so cantankerous, if you can believe it. She was a sweet girl, wonderful even. But then I met my future wife, and...” He smirks guiltily. “What can I say? The heart wants what it wants!”

You nod along. “And I got the illustrious honor of being an outlet for the frustration stemming from Patricia’s lifelong unrequited love.”

“You saucy minx!” Freddie playfully lashes your mom’s shoulder with a cloth napkin. “Homewrecker!”

She chuckles, not the least bit offended. “People get together under all sorts of strange circumstances, and you know what? You can’t wreck a home if the home wasn’t already half-wrecked before you got there, that’s what I think.”

Roger raises his Patriot’s Punch. “I’ll drink to that.”

Brian clutches his New England Express, bewildered. “Are we...toasting to infidelity?”

“Oh, does that horrify you?” Rog asks sarcastically. Brian grimaces, but dutifully raises his glass.

“We’re toasting to love,” your dad clarifies. “However it comes, as long as it’s true.”

John holds his Manhattan aloft. “To love.”

Freddie clinks his Flying Elvis against the other beverages, including your parents’ wine glasses and your Cranberry Crush. “Cheers!” Then Fred glances at the clock and swiftly polishes off his slice of Boston cream pie.

“Can’t you all stay a little longer?” your mom pleads, collecting plates and gazing longingly at Roger. “This has been so much fun...”

“They have soundcheck at seven, Mom. We have to leave for the stadium soon.”

“Well, before you jet off to your next adventure, can I treat anyone to a long distance call?” your dad asks.

Brian perks up. “Really?!” You know there’s a ring in the future for Chrissie; not an expensive or extravagant ring (not that Chris would want that anyway), but a ring nonetheless. You know because Brian has taken you shopping to help him choose one.

“Of course! You can use the phone in my office. It’s Valentine’s Day, after all. I’m sure there are some lovely ladies back in jolly old England who would be over the moon to hear from you.”

“That would be very much appreciated!” Brian says. “And thank you so much, this has been such a treat, you have no idea how long it’s been since we had a proper homemade meal.”

“I had to rehabilitate the reputation of us Yankees, didn’t I? Now come on, Mr. May, I’ll show you to the office...”

“Mr. May...I like the sound of that!”

“Ten minutes, Bri!” Freddie calls, following them down the hallway. “Then it’s my turn...!”

You begin gathering up the empty glasses, but Roger promptly snatches them away. “No way, Boston babe. You go relax. I’ll help your mom.”

“I think she’s in love with you.”

He grins. “Do you have a secret stepdaddy fetish I could exploit?”

“Oh my god. Roger.”

He snickers and sweeps off into the kitchen. It’s only then that you realize John has disappeared. You check the kitchen, the living room, the hallway, the study, and finally the front porch; John is standing outside in the cold, smoking and watching the setting sun. The sky is threaded with cerulean, rust orange, lavender, indigo. You pull on your coat and go out to join him.

“We’ll make it to Florence one of these days,” you promise John, resting your arms on the wooden, white-painted porch railing. Your mother hung baskets of fresh flowers for the band’s visit, which swing lazily in the breeze. “Crank out a few more hits and we’ll get the record company to add it to the tour itinerary.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice.”

“Are you going to call Veronica?”

He shrugs, frowns, exhales a lungful of smoke into frigid New England air. “I don’t know if I should.”

“You don’t think she’d like that?” you ask, confounded.

“I think she might like it too much.”

“Ohhhhh.” You read his soft greyish eyes, which are faraway and somber, sad even. “I’m sorry, John. You know she’s wild about you.”

“I know it.” He takes a drag off his cigarette. “She’s the first person who ever was, actually. The first person who ever noticed me. Came up to me out of the blue at a disco and asked me to dance, me! So I said yes, like you do when you’re the guy nobody notices. And then I said yes again, and again, and again, until one day I realized...oh, this girl thinks we’re getting married. When the hell did that happen?”

“I noticed you,” you contest.  

John chuckles and nods. “You did,” he agrees. “Right away. Tried to win me over when I was too nervous to finish a sentence around you. But that was long after I’d met Veronica.”

“Well, you can’t break up with her tonight. On Valentine’s Day?! That would be traumatic.”

“Agreed.”

“We’ll have a few days in London between the American and Asian legs of the tour. You can think it over and decide what to do then. I’m happy to arrange the getaway taxi if that’s something that interests you.”

“Yeah.” Again, he peers out into the Western horizon, into rising stars.

“John?”

Now he looks to you. He’s a little too thoughtful, too low. There’s something you’re not seeing.

“...Is there somebody else?”

He doesn’t speak; he just stares at you with those velvety azure-grey eyes, drums his fingers against the railing, lets the ash from his cigarette crumble into the snow-dusted Blue Pacific Junipers.

Roger barrels through the front door and out onto the porch. “There you are, Deaks! I thought we were going to have to find a new bassist. Enlist Nurse Nightingale’s mum or something.”

John smirks and crushes the rest of his cigarette in your father’s ashtray. “I suspect you’d do just fine without me.”

“Oh no. No way. Not happening.”

“That’s kind of you,” John says, unconvinced.

“Here, I’ll prove it.” Rog holds out his calloused hand. “If you ever leave, I leave too. Come on, Deaks, shake on it. It’s official. It’s a pact. There’s no Queen without John Deacon.”

Reluctantly, trying not to show how pleased he is, John shakes. “Alright.”

Roger grins triumphantly. “Signed, sealed, delivered. You’re ours for life, baby.”

“Deaky, do you want the phone?!” Freddie yells from inside the house.

John sighs and exchanges a knowing glance with you. “I guess I should say hi.”

“Okay, but quickly!” Rog presses. “We gotta go!”

“So bossy...” John ducks inside; and Roger, though he’s not wearing anything over his pale pink button-up shirt—sufficiently sophisticated to impress your parents—comes to the porch railing to join you.

“You’re not staying out here, are you?” You eye his thin shirt worriedly, the goosebumps rising over his collarbones, his bare forearms where he rolled up his sleeves to help your mom wash the dishes.

He tosses you a mischievous wink. “I’ve got no one to call.”

Roger looks up at the hanging baskets of flowers, plucks out a cerise carnation, and offers it to you. You mean to say something witty, something sardonic, something that will make him laugh; but all your words vanish into cold February air. You take the carnation, smiling helplessly.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Roger whispers.

You just let me know if you ever change your mind, okay?

Okay.

He turns to go back inside the house.

I won’t fall in love with him. I won’t fall in love with him. I won’t fall in love with him.

Then Roger pauses in the doorway. “You coming, Boston babe? I can’t have you catching pneumonia or something. I won’t know how to fix you.”

Oh, you realize, with horror and yet relief, all those grueling lies stripped away. It’s too late.

~~~~~~~~~~

You knock on the frame of the dressing room door. “Hi Bri!”

He glances over from where he sits in front of the mirror, rimming his eyes with inky liner. Soundcheck went swimmingly, and now Queen has thirty minutes until they need to be onstage. You can hear the disembodied reverberation of voices from the waiting crowd through the walls. “Hello, love. Come in.”

“Freddie said you needed to see me. Did you rip a sleeve or something? I brought my kit—”

“No, it’s not that.” He pats the chair beside him. The boys practically always get ready together before a show, but you suspect profoundly introverted Brian is experiencing one of his post-socialization crashes after dinner with your parents. Something about him is tired, very tired, almost drained to empty. “Join me.”

“Sure,” you say cautiously. You shove your medical kit onto the countertop and then reach to feel his forehead. “Are you feeling alright...?”

“I’m fine, love. I just have a favor to ask.”

“Anything.”

Brian sighs deeply, sets down the eyeliner, swivels his chair towards you. “I need you to promise me that you’re not going to start seeing Roger.”

You titter, deflecting, brushing Brian’s hair away from his troubled, angular face. “Well, as the official Queen touring nurse, I see him quite a lot.”

Brian catches your wrist. “I’m being serious.”

Now your brow knits into tight agitated lines. “I’m curious as to why you think that’s something you have a say in.”

“Bloody hell, I’m not trying to offend you—”

“Job well done.”

“Dear, please, listen to me—”

“Eight months,” you hiss through your teeth as you tear away from him. “For eight months I’ve listened and avoided and resisted and ignored and it’s not going away.”

“Oh, fuck,” Brian breathes in despair. “You love him.”

There are tears biting in the periphery of your vision; you don’t want them to be there, but they are. Your voice is hoarse and trembling. “Bri, please don’t.”

Brian shakes his head and motions with his hands frenetically, desperately, trying to make you understand. “Look, sometimes...sometimes the people we love, the people who own us, the people who fucking set us on fire...they’re not the people we end up with. And that’s not always a bad thing. It’s necessary. It’s self-preservation. Because sometimes the people who set us on fire would burn us alive.”

You gape at him, furious, stunned. “That’s just fantastic, Brian. You’re a true romantic. Jesus christ, does Chrissie know about this? Is that why you’re with her, because she’s, what...safe?!”

“No, that’s not fair, Chrissie’s great, she’s steady and supportive and she’ll make a wonderful mother one day, and my parents adore her—”

“Those aren’t reasons to marry someone, Brian!”

“They are!” He leaps to his feet. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you! You have to think about these things, you have to be rational, you have to protect yourself—”

“Why the fuck do you care?” you flare bitterly.

“Because you saved my life.”

“Stop it, I didn’t.”

“You did, I truly believe that. And I want you to stay with the band. And I want you to be happy. But, dear, please, I’m begging you...this is not the way to do it.”

“I’m not going to go out to some pub and drag home a random guy who’s suitably passionless and predictable enough to be Brian-May-approved.”

“That’s not what I’m asking you to do—”

“Because you’re such an expert on relationships!” you shout, exasperated. “Planning to propose to Chris while you’re still secretly pining over some fling from New Orleans, fucking groupies and then having the nerve to mope around guilt-ridden the next morning as if anyone but you was responsible for that decision, and do I say anything about it?! Do I ever say a single fucking word about it to you, or Fred, or Roger, or your future wife, or anybody?! No, because it’s not my life!”

The dressing room door flies open and John storms inside. “What’s going on?!”

You cross your arms and stare at the floor. Brian’s wide green eyes flick to John, to you, back to John. If it was Freddie, Brian would tell him in a second, would try to enlist him in the effort, and it would probably work; but John is a different story. John won’t side with Brian over you, everybody knows that. And John has a talent for sharpening words into blades. “Um. Nothing.”  

“I could hear you in the hallway,” John says flatly. “Obviously it wasn’t nothing.”

Brian points to you. “Have you tried to talk her out of this? Maybe you should, maybe she’d listen.”

“It’s not my choice to make, just like it isn’t yours. Worry about your own body count. It seems to be growing exponentially these days.”

Brian scoffs. “Because you’d be so thrilled if she ended up with him, right?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” you demand.

Brian and John glare at each other from across the room. John raises his eyebrows, daring Bri to answer. Brian gnaws his lower lip, but doesn’t elaborate. The air is heavy, tense, electrified.  

“Don’t upset her again,” John says darkly.

Brian shows the white palms of his hands in surrender. “Fine.”

John waves for you to follow him. “Come on.” And he slams the door behind you as you both escape into the hallway.

“I’m sorry.” You chase away stray tears with the back of your hands. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to get anyone worked up right before the show...”

“Don’t worry about it. I treasure any excuse to harass Brian.”

You study him, seeking answers, seeking more than you know how to put into words. “Do you think I’m being stupid? If you do, you can tell me.”

“No,” John responds carefully. “I think you’re being hopeful. And I’d like to believe that stupidity and hopefulness are two very different things.”

You smile. “I don’t deserve you.”

“That’s very inaccurate.” He fluffs his hair with his fingertips. “Do you want to touch it before we go on stage?”

You feign demureness. “Hmm...”

“Oh come on. You know you want to. It’s extra voluminous right now, Roger shared some of his magical mousse or whatever. Something way too expensive. You should thoroughly berate him for it.”

You laugh. “I’ll see what I can do.” You comb your hands through his brunette hair, and John’s right; it’s extraordinarily full and soft, and smells like honeysuckles. “You always know how to get me smiling, don’t you?”

“You do insist that I have game. Though I remain skeptical.”

“Good luck tonight. Not that you need it.”

John’s rough thumb lifts your chin, then whisks away a tear you missed. “You’ll be watching, right?”

“I always am.” And that’s the truth; you haven’t missed a Queen show since you met them.

He beams, those gentle grey eyes incandescent. “Then we’ll have an ocean of luck.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Exactly twenty-four hours later, Queen is in New York City.

The thunderous bassline of the opening act shudders through the concrete walls. You’re staring yourself down in the bathroom mirror under harsh florescent lights, your palms gripping the cold rim of a white sink, your eyes shimmering with black and gold shadow, your lip gloss slick and crimson. There’s not a single thing left to do. You’re running out of time.

You breathe in, breathe out, snatch your purse off the floor, breeze out into the hallway.

You can hear the boys’ laughter even before you open the dressing room door. Inside, Brian is tuning his Red Special with his mantis-like legs propped up on the countertop, John is attempting to teach Freddie how to make popcorn in a microwave without setting anything on fire, Roger is scrutinizing his hair in the mirror and frowning as he rearranges it with a comb.  

“Hello, darling!” Freddie warbles. “Can I interest you in some delicious and expertly-prepared popcorn?” He opens the microwave, and smoke pours out. “Oh, you bitch!”

“I’ll pass, Freddie.” You glide to where Roger is sitting, knot your fingers through his blond hair, and tug his head back so you can kiss him. He tastes like mint gum and the ghost of smoke and reckless intemperance; he tastes like everything you’ve ever wanted. There are gasps, and surely dropped jaws as well; but you don’t have eyes for them. “Okay,” you tell Roger.

He stares up at you with huge, starry eyes, a dazed grin slowly lighting up his face. “You changed your mind.”

“Come find me after the show.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You move to wipe your blood-red gloss from his lips, but Roger stops you, knits his hand through yours, stands to meet you.

“Leave it,” he murmurs. “I want them to know.”  

“Want them to know...?”

His lips touch yours again, smiling and scorching and ravenous. “That I’m yours.”

[the-whole-long-stupid-story]

So I’m participating in this 30 Day Roswell Challenge thing over on insta at the moment, and Day 4 is ‘Favorite Female Character’ and so far everyone has chosen Liz. Which is fine, Liz is great...

BUT MARIA DELUCA IS MY FAVORITE

Let me tell you why, because there are many points to make.

Firstly, can I just say that I love ALL the female characters on Roswell. The characters all serve a purpose of moving the narrative forward, which is the whole point - and yes, even though we “love to hate” her, even Tess plays a big part in that. And I will begrudgingly admit Courtney did too 😂

So without much further ado…

Maria is a fantastic friend. Not only does she keep secrets, she tells amazing webs of lies to ensure their Czechoslovakians remain hidden. She’ll lie down in the dirt in a green ensemble and allow a scary alien boy to place a silver painted handprint on her chest, because they have to throw the Sheriff off the scent. She chooses to put herself into daring and dangerous situations for the love of her friends and to protect them. She travels interstate (okay, the first time against her will, but after that she was a willing participant) and allows her mother’s Jetta to be absolutely trashed most times. She’ll encourage you to “try again” with your powers when they don’t quite work the first time. She’ll knock on your window when you’ve slept in on the day of your wedding, and offer to take on a multitude of tasks in order to ensure you have the best day ever.

She gives great advice. She is a constant shoulder to cry on and a listening ear for both Liz AND Max, even when she is going through hell in her own relationship. She drops everything to help when she’s called upon, and even when she’s not she is still there. She is a trouble-shooter, comes up with amazing plans and pulls them off like magic. She knows just the right thing to say (or not to say) to pull haughty alien boys back into line, and how to offer them comfort without judgement when they need it. She delivers key lime pie interstate when her best friends are arrested for holding up a convenience store. She sings at her best friends’ funeral, even though she is barely able to stand.

She is smart. She is funny and articulate and warm. Sure, she was originally written as a “flake”, but can we seriously describe Maria DeLuca that way? She knows what’s up, but she plays it down. She’s street smart, and she knows just the right thing to say to lighten the mood. She’ll find the loop hole to get your long lost “sister” set free from the confines of her evil Aunt & Uncle’s clutches, have the mansion reassigned in her name, and make sure she’s safe. She’ll figure out that you’ve been visiting Juanita at her love pod before you even have time to explain yourself. She’ll know where to take you when you have a vision of Tess being held captive, and then drive you there. And then she’ll circle back for reinforcement, catch he kinda boyfriend bailing a blonde up against a wall, and ignore the whole thing until the next day because you and Tess are currently in danger. Priorities.

Maria puts others before herself. She’ll forgive you when you throw her out of her own car while you’re possessed by an alien king seal. She’ll turn up on your doorstep in the middle of winter in Vermont because she knows you’re having a tough time and probably need to rant over ice cream. Maria will lock herself in an office with a man that has gone “off the menu” with a gun, to try and talk some sense into him before he kills everyone. She won’t bat an eyelid when your previously dead boyfriend suddenly reappears and tries to strangle her to death while you’re in the shower. She’ll send her childhood friend (and okay, first kiss) packing because you tell her that your powers are out of control and it’s too risky to be found out right now.

Her love is realistic. She never gives up on Michael, but she holds him accountable for his actions. In S2, every time he needed her, despite being cold and mean and cruel towards her, she was there. She believed in the good in him when no-one else did. She sees all his faults, and she loves him regardless. But she never asks him to stay for her. Her father abandoned her as a kid, she’d just lost her best male friend and clearly she wanted Michael to stay, but she didn’t ask him to. He told her he was leaving, that he had to for Max and Max’s son, and she respected that. She knew he had to go, that deep down he likely wanted to go - and she let him, even though her heart was breaking. She knew that they shared the same dream of finding something better than Roswell, New Mexico and she wasn’t going to stand in his way, because she wouldn’t want him to if their roles were reversed (and they were in S3). She never took the choice away from him.

Maria DeLuca chose to leave for Michael Guerin. She left her life in Roswell, her mother, her singing dreams and her future behind for the love of a boy that had turned her world upside down. Michael gave her ‘an out’ when he came to say goodbye to her in Graduation, because he knew it was so important - based on her history with her dad - to not just up and leave. So he came to tell her how much he loved her, and to give her an out to escape the alien chaos once and for all (and ultimately to keep her safe). But Maria is a lover, and she had chosen to love Michael right from the start - it was always a choice for her, and she chose him despite everything.

Maria DeLuca is fire. She is a queen and a goddess, and that’s why she’s my fave.

Okay, I need to go rest my fingers now. 

Thank you for coming to my Maria DeLuca Tedx Talk 😂 /end rant.

P.S. GUYS, Majandra shared my post to her stories TWICE and I am now DED.

Join me in a few days when I post my next rant on why Michael Guerin is my favorite male character (and actually, just overall favorite character) ✌🏼

[arlensailsbury]

We will call the infatuated white man who has undertaken this fool’s errand Master Shallow.

We will call the infatuated white man who has undertaken this fool’s errand Master Shallow. Harding, Esq., and the accused ably and eloquently defended by Wm. The clampdown started last month after 88th Precinct brass met with top cops from Park Slope 78th Precinct, Downtown 84th Precinct, the police Transit Bureau, school safety agents, and managers from Atlantic Terminal mall, the Barclays Center, and MetroTech Center. Her body staggered, fell, and rose again, her hands flailed, her legs jerked this way and that in some grotesque dance as his spirit and her own fought for

pantofi sport cu scai barbati

the flesh. I have heard of

scaun rulant inchiriere

a few other similar incidents and I sure there are even more. Herman said a call to tender for lots is put out every year and a number

gotcha karkötő

of potential properties are considered. Born in Cleveland, Ohio, where he was an active member of Cleveland Jewish community he had a bar mitzvah and attended shul every Friday night said his acting began as a hobby..

pantofi sport cu scai barbati

She knew about the Field of Fire and the Dance of the Dragons. Oldtown maesters are the worst of all. The dwarf waddled after him, slashing with the torch, jabbing it at the stone man’s eyes. With no goddamn chocolate sprinkles, thank you very much. Max served as a member of the United State Air Force during the Korean Conflict, was a member of the VFW at the Vermont State level, the American Legion in Wilmington and was a former member of the Wilmington Lions Club. She was a tall, willowy creature, very healthy-looking. It functions at 1200 RPM and is quite a beast with its 17 gallons and at 5.5 HP is quite heavy but nonetheless agile enough to be portable using is two wheels so getting this Dewalt air compressor from area to area should not offer much of a problem. "What we went through in 1996 to 2002, I guess it's going to be interesting to see how that game plays out," the former Red Wings forward, now a special assistant to the general manager,said today at a news conference in Denver. She was not all wrong. I stayed till she fell asleep, and as I went out I begged Mavra not to leave her suffering mistress all night.. One eye wept pus, and his beard was crusty with dried vomit. Zepeda's drive and success also extends to outside the college and into the running community. My friend and client Sara dropped me a line about her Inspiron 6000. Up near the dais, Abel was plucking at his lute and singing “Fair Maids of Summer.” He calls himself a bard. Kedge had seen forty-odd namedays, thirty of them on the Wall. gioco cubo di rubik amazon Both Consumer Reports and Consumers Union are not for profit organizations that accept no advertising. The air traffic controller who cleared the plane for takeoff didn notice it turn onto the wrong runway. Good-natured auctioneers know very well how they have often been entreated to connive at keeping a poor fellow out of the trader’s clutches; and how sometimes they succeed, and sometimes they do not.. Despite these chances, neither side was getting any closer to scoring going into the second 15 minutes, in which Jackson, Jesson and Kirk Patrick all had shots go blazing over the bar. [Here he mentions that the funds held by this individual had been placed in his hands by a person who obtained them by dishonest means.] But having learned the above facts, which he in confidence made known to me, I declined accepting his offer, giving him my reasons in full. A tangle of orange and white balloons and ribbons and a long line of candles also marked the location. The Old Pomegranate thought that I was spying on him and announced that he would not suffer murderers listening to their councils. Chaverria of the county air quality department recommended that people with lung conditions, children and older adults stay indoors. Kill the boy and let the man be born. “The captain commands, and I obey,” said Moqorro. The thing kept right avenida alicante silla on coming, driving him back into the arms of another. Gigabit Ethernet was provided by a Marvel Yukon chipset. Mineral dusts are generated from parent rocks by any breaking down process, and vegetable dusts are produced by any dry treatment. Twelve were spearwives, more than capable of defending both themselves and the younger girls from the unwanted attentions of black brothers. But what you probably haven't heard is that the IRS is encouraging investors to support our growing energy renaissance, offering you a tax loophole to invest in some of America's cizme vara cu tocgreatest energy companies. The simplicity of narration is only ostentatious and it uncloses a lot of layers and surprising depth after detailed study.. We even used a 3D printer to create a state of the art cleated out sole that was used in competition at the NFL Combine, where 7 of the top fastest times were run in cleat. He watched a young woman stumble away with a child on either hand. If the queen had commanded me to protect Hizdahr, I would have had no choice but to obey. “We’ve got most of the keep restored and put a roof back on the kitchens. Her pale, thin face had

зимни обувки adidas 2016

an unnatural sallow, bilious tinge. They've been in a lot of close games. He, of course, had a large train of servants in his domestic establishment. CEO, says the company is ready to move on from the lawsuit and has a new line of products to debut in 2015, including casual footwear, and an incentive program to entice new customers.. “I keep my promises,” he told her, as Irri and Jhiqui were robing them for bed. There are no seniors on this year team.. Father and mom, Diane, plus other family members and friends will be on hand as dad gets his first NFL Sunday off in three decades of playing and broadcasting. Whether or not the trophy was deserved for each individual, the entire team received the positive reward. "We love bicycles, we love to ride, but what we really love is what bicycles can connect people to.". A comparison between the two will show the relative effects of the respective institutions of the North and South. But Moqorro was the true master of the Selaesori Qhoran, at least for this voyage.. The actor says she is not apprehensive about acquiring a bold image, especially after her bold roles in her web series and her next film. I know I am expressing myself too straight forwardly, but, at this moment straightforwardness on my part is what is most needed. It comes in Rose Gold, which is unique to it among the iPads. But it snowed again the next day, and the day after, and the day after that. The 6 11 center from Euless, Texas, is expected to pick among Kansas, Duke and several evro kalkulator calça kickboxing other schools, but has said he was waiting on Embiid's decision before choosing his school. He kissed her hands and her feet, he hastened to kiss her, hastened to gaze at her as though he could not yet believe that she was with him, that he saw and heard her again — her, his daughter, his Natasha. It’s Natasha has let you get into such ways.

[douxbebearchives]

Meet the Author: ScarlettKate1013

Hi, ScarlettKate1013!

Stories can be found here.

Twitter.

__________

When did you start writing Olitz? Summer 2020

Tell us about yourself! What do you want readers to know about you? I’m an avid reader. I love music and have classical voice training, but I can’t play a single instrument. I’m a mom to two, an “evil Queen stepmom” to three and a grandmother to two, and I’m probably too old to read fanfiction, never mind write it, but it’s a lot of fun, so I do it anyway.

What drew you to Olivia and Fitz? I didn’t discover Scandal until the beginning of season 5, but I was hooked after one episode and quickly gobbled up the first four seasons. Olivia and Fitz were just everything - romantic, beautiful, angst-filled and gut wrenching at times, but what a ride!

What made you want to write about them? I started rewatching from episode 1 during quarantine and I’d started writing again, so I decided to jump in the deep end of the pool and write a one shot set during the early days of Fitz’s first term. I  just wanted to see a tender moment between Olivia and Fitz before they - and we, the viewers - got blitzed by B6-13.

How would you describe your writing? I’m a pessimist by nature, but my writing tends to be fairly fluffy. I do enjoy writing smut. Don’t look for many earth-shattering plot lines from this gal because I’m only good for some fluffy, oftentimes smutty, goodness with a tiny bit of angst on occasion.

What inspires you to write / create? Usually, I envision a quick scene in my head, or I’ll dream up a short verbal exchange between characters, and I start making notes.

Favorite movies, shows, music? Too many to name, but I can’t live without the Harry Potter, The Lord of the Rings, Marvel Universe or the Star Wars films. Favorite shows are JAG, The Last Ship, Law & Order: SVU, Angel, Seal Team, Bones, X-Files, Once Upon a Time, Army Wives, This is Us and, of course, Scandal. I love pretty much all music.

How long does it take you to write a chapter? If I’ve kept up with my notes and I can carve up a bit of alone time, I can normally do a chapter in an hour or two...but it’s rare that I can carve out alone time.

Did the show’s themes and plots encourage you or discourage you from writing? Encourage.

Writing AU or Canon? Canon.

Reading AU or Canon? Canon.

________

A favorite line, scene, or paragraph you’ve written.

From “A Lifetime Waiting” 

His entire life, he'd been taught to accept what was dangled in front of him, to follow orders, do what was expected of him. He'd lived his life always afraid, hesitant, to get what he wanted. He'd never just stepped up and seized what he wanted, until Olivia. With her, he didn't have to wonder where he stood; he didn't question his worth. For the first time in his life, he loved and was loved, only for himself. His life had been spent waiting – waiting on his father's approval, waiting to be governor, waiting to be president, waiting to be happy. But one petite, raven-haired beauty had changed all that. It had been Olivia who'd broken the cycle of waiting and helped him start living.

________

Fave Olitz moments? The Trail, Closetgate, Vermont, “Watch me choose you” from both Liv & Fitz, every single “one minute.”

Fave Olitz fanfic moments? There have been so many amazing stories I’ve had the pleasure of reading, both canon and AU. They’re all my favorites!

________

Do you like it when readers engage with you via comments / social media? Yes.

Story Reviews: Love them, hate them? I like reviews, even if they’re critical. I welcome constructive criticism - it’s the only way to improve - but if the review is just flit-out mean and spiteful, well, I simply invite the reader to move along and find something to your liking. There’s enough hate in the world; no need to make it grow with a mean spirited review.

What advice would you give to a new Olitz writer? Do it. You won’t regret it.

Outside of your fics, do you have any fave Olitz stories or authors? I’ve enjoyed everything I’ve read in this fandom.

Do you talk to other Olitz authors? If so, do you like the camaraderie? A little bit, through a Facebook group. Everyone has been so friendly and supportive.

Before you go, anything else you’d like to share? This was an amazing idea. I just want to say thank you to everyone who welcomed me into this fandom. Because of the encouragement I’ve received, I’m going to expand one of my stories and I’ve got an outline going for an AU of the season 3 finale.

________

Thank you, ScarlettKate1013, for allowing us to feature you!