#( anyway. i'm an awful person. water continues to be wet. news at 11. )

[shesboundtobruise]

I just gave myself a horrifying idea and I've sufficiently broken my own heart, as well as Lou's. I need to go lie down.

[istheresomebodywhocanimagine]

Sorry for the bother but may I get a Queen and BoRhap ship please? I have that awful sense of direction, I got lost in a restaurant. I also will never admit publicly that I like someone. Hate to be told what to do and people prying into my life. Always calm and would never be rude to people. A caring and a friendly person. Ambitious. I'm 158 cm tall, a bit chubby. Metalhead. A bit of a tomboy. Major introvert. Hard worker. Overthinker. Open-minded. I'm good at learning new languages.

figured i should get one of these bad boys out of the way tonight before i rlly dive into my homework so here goes

i LOVE that you love metal i fuck with pantera so hard idk if thats the kind of metal you’re talking about but i’ve also seen FFDP and korn live so that was fucking unreal hi everyone yes i have the broadest taste in music ever sorry

ANYWAYS ships r below the cut :^)

For Queen, I ship you with Roger Taylor!

I almost said Brian, but I think you two would be too alike to last. However, you and Roger? A match made in heaven.

Roger genuinely loves that you’re a metalhead - he’s always up on trends, so the fact that you’ve got an in on the metal scene gives him the insight he needs to keep up with what’s hot and what’s not.

Also, Roger would love that you’re shorter than him - I mean, he probably constantly gets hell for being shorter than Brian, so that fact that you’re much shorter than him would be a source of great enjoyment/relief for him.

When you first met, you were in the same class as Roger, and it was a discussion-based forum class that you absolutely loathed - a group of maybe 20 of you, sitting in a circle, discussing what went wrong and what went right in your labs earlier in the week - it wasn’t required, but you got extra credit, and you always wanted to be able to improve on your grade if at all possible. 

And since Roger didn’t want to piss off his parents with low marks while he was supposedly off at college ‘studying,’ he showed up too.

Roger was the only person that made the class bearable - he sat next to you, and he was constantly peeking over at your notes, chuckling when you wrote things like ‘instructor has no earthly idea what they’re talking about’ ‘this is wrong’ and ‘how does he even have a degree to teach this’

One time, Roger was so amused by your notes that he laughed out loud, interrupting a discussion between another student and the instructor, who looked at him and asked him to say what he thought, if he was so amused by what they apparently got wrong.

He glanced at you, hopeless - he hadn’t been paying attention, but you had, so you nonchalantly wrote ‘control group is not tablet and water - just water,’ then underlined it a few times. Roger glanced down, then nodded imperceptibly before folding his hands together and leaning over the desk.

“You lot are talking as if the control group is the antacid tablet AND the water - it’s just the water.” You marveled at how confident he sounded as he said so, and his blue eyes quickly met yours, sending you a charming grin before he was called upon again.

“The control group is the tablet fully dissolved in water, mate.” The student who had been bantering with the instructor was clearly upset Roger had insulted their intelligence, so they decided to challenge his.

“Actually, he’s right,” you chimed in, your voice quieter. Usually, you’d only speak when called upon in this class, but you knew Roger couldn’t bullshit his way through this one completely. “The control group is technically the water, untouched by the tablet. It’s affected by no variables, making it the control group.”

It was Roger’s turn to marvel at your sudden burst of confidence, and after class, he caught up to you in the hall to thank you. He’d always thought you were kind of cute, so this gave him his excuse to talk to you outside of class.

“Hey, I owe you one for what just happened back there,” he said, matching your pace as you headed for the front door of the building. Although he had class immediately after, he made a snap decision to skip so he could go wherever you were headed.

“Oh, it was no big deal, they’re morons,” you replied, a rosy blush creeping up on your cheeks when you glanced up at him, finding his gaze to be directly on you. When he held open the door for you, you thanked him, and he continued to walk with you as you headed back towards the dorms where you were living. 

“I’m Roger, if you didn’t know,” he introduced, holding out his hand for you to shake as you walked, and you shook his hand gently, smiling at him. “We should study together sometime - you seem like you know a hell of a lot more about this than I do. Actually, are you busy right now?”

And that’s where it all started.

Your ambition and drive to learn satiates Roger - both of you feed off of each other’s energy, constantly teaching each other new things and always trying to participate in new experiences.

But for smart people, you and Roger (especially Roger) can have your moments of being airheaded. What would life be without those moments anyways? 

If you had a good sense of direction and Roger wouldn’t be so stubborn about neglecting his glasses, you would have never ended up in book club in Lower Manhattan instead of an actual club.

It was one of their later US tours, and Roger had flown you out to NYC to see them play Madison Square Garden. Afterwards, you’d opted to go out alone, and it was a nice night out, so you two took off in your rental car with the top down, enjoying the only slightly smelly NYC air and the sound of relentlessly honking cars. 

Quickly, you found yourselves lost as you tried to follow the directions the manager had given you, which was a pointless attempt. You were humorously exasperated, but your calm nature let you continue to be more amused than anything.

“Roger, please just let me turn around and go back to the venue - you know I’m bad with directions.”

“Absolutely not, I’d rather die,” he dismissed, making you laugh in slight exasperation as you stopped at a stoplight, dropping your hands into your lap. “Now where are we going next, sweets?”

“I don’t know, Rog,” you groaned, holding your head in your hands. “What does that street sign say?”

“I dunno, it’s blurry to me,” he grumbled, making you laugh again at his horribly serious need for glasses. “Don’t laugh at me! I’m crippled.”

“Did you bring your glasses when you left for the US?” you asked pointedly, and Roger nodded furiously as you pressed on the gas when the light turned green, advancing forward towards God knows where. “Then why were they on the nightstand when I left a couple days ago?”

“Imposters!” he joked, distracting you and making you laugh as you shook your head. When you were unmoved, he leaned over the center console and pressed a noisy, wet kiss to your cheek, making you shrug him off and laugh. “I’m just taking the piss, please don’t put me in time out for forgetting them. I love you.”

“Uh huh... forgetting,” you replied, using a playfully disbelieving tone before you sighed and looked around at the street signs, spotting one makeshift sign on the sidewalk that had an arrow and said ‘The Club’ and nothing else. “Well, that’s convenient. The Club. Let’s stop there.”

When you finally made it to the door, you walked in hesitantly. It didn’t seem like the type of building to be housing a dance club, but Roger was all for the simplicity of the name, so he led you in, quickly realizing that you were not in a dance hall, but a library.

“Oh my god, Roger,” you whispered, looking around at the stacks of books before meeting eyes with a group of middle-aged ladies who were holding copies of A Clockwork Orange. “This is a book club. They’re reading A Clockwork Orange. We’ve got to go.”

“Ooh, I love that book!” he said out loud, approaching the ladies without a hint of fear in him and turning your nerves all the way up to 11 as you reluctantly followed, still laughing to yourself at Roger’s unbelievable extroversion. “Come on, Y/N! Now ladies, what do we think of Dim and Georgie so far?”

And for BoRhap, I ship you with Joe Mazzello!

You’re a tomboy? Joe genuinely nuts for tomboys, for lack of better wording. 

He loves taking you to baseball games, whether they are for the Yankees or for the team that his brother coaches. You don’t mind the down and dirty nature of the game - after all, you aren’t exactly the ribbons and bows type. 

Speaking of baseball, you two met on the set of Undrafted. You were actually an old friend of Duke’s who lived in the area where they were filming - Joe had cast him as Ty, a tense character, and Duke had brought you along, saying he needed you as an extra body to sit in the crowd.

But really, he’d brought you along so you could zen him out when he needed to relax on breaks - your calmness always helped him chill, and he knew from the script that quite a few of the actors could use your balance when they were filming the high intensity scenes.

Joe was probably the most intensely angry character in the movie, and you noticed that very early on. You were seated near their dugout, pretending to text on an outdated Blackberry, when a bat came flying at the fence in front of you, making you jump slightly as it hit the chain links and bounced to the ground, rolling away from you.

“Sorry, bad aim,” Joe grumbled as he came to grab the bat, still partially in character, and you couldn’t help but send him a smile as he straightened back up, bat in hand.

“It’s alright, don’t worry.” The mellow sound of your voice intrigued Joe, and he gave you a slow nod before smiling a bit and turning back to go do the shot again. In fact, your mellowness was infectious, and exactly what he needed - the next shot, he absolutely nailed his intended target with the bat.

Once everyone had decided to take a lunch break, Duke came over to join you on the small set of bleachers, shaking some dust out of his hair before replacing the ball cap.

“What’s good for grub around here?” Duke asked, sitting down next to you. As you opened your mouth to answer, you heard a pair of baseball cleats crunching over gravel as they jogged nearer, then stopped in front of the two of you.

“Where are you two headed? Can I bum a ride?”

In front of you stood Joe, far calmer now, and far more attractive when he was up close. 

“That’s up to Y/N here,” Duke replied, standing up to join Joe and helping you off the bleachers. Now that you were standing, Joe was easily taller than you, and you almost wished you were at eye level again due to the bleachers.

“Y/N? I’m Joe.” He held out a hand as he introduced himself, and you shook it gently, giving him the same smile you’d given him not too long ago and gaining a goofy grin in return.

From then on, you became Joe’s right hand set therapist for when he got too into his angry scenes, and he became your random baseball facts plug once he found out you had at least some interest in the game.

Joe’s extroverted nature balances well with your tendency for introversion, but sometimes, it causes small clashes. Thankfully, you’re so calm and have such a mellowing effect on Joe, clashes never escalate to the point where you’re actually arguing. 

Your overthinking also sometimes clashes with his impulsive tendencies. He’s a bit of a serial Instagram poster, while you have to stare at your posts for 20 minutes before you reword the caption and then post it after proofreading twice. 

One time, you’d been listening to some of your dearly beloved metal when Joe had come in, phone raised as he took a video of himself headbanging to the music, turning so he could get you in the frame. When you waved him off and covered your face with the other hand, laughing, he pouted playfully before ending the video.

There was a moment of silence as you heard him clicking away at the keyboard, then he joined you on the couch, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you into his side gently. “Work, work, work. Whatcha working on now?”

You snuggled into his side, resting your head on his shoulder, and a small smile formed on your lips as he gave you an affectionate kiss on the head. 

“Just replying to some emails.”

“The grind never stops!” Joe then pulled out his phone again, texting something to Ben on Instagram that intrigued you.

“Why was Ben asking about me?” you questioned, sitting up a bit as Joe smiled sheepishly and hid his phone from you.

“Definitely not because I put that video on my story.”

“Joe! We’ve talked about this,” you laughed, sinking back down into a slumped position as you shook your head. “I swear, I’m going to delete Instagram off of your phone one day and Facebook Live the meltdown.”

“Please, at least Instagram Live it. Who uses Facebook?” You rolled your eyes at the exaggerated haughty tone that he took on as he said so, then raised an eyebrow when a notification from Chace Crawford also popped up. “Oh, no, your boyfriend is messaging me!” he gasped dramatically, opening the notification.

You snickered at that, shaking your head again and watching as he read the message. 

When he was done, he made a weird look before pulling up the camera and starting to record a live video. You barely had time to react and cover your face as you laughed, Joe putting on a serious expression. “Joe, you’re fired,” you mumbled, holding your laptop over your face as Joe switched to a pout. Chace popped in first to watch, followed by Ben and Gwil.

“I’ve just been fired as resident boyfriend and now I think Chace is moving in. Can anyone please let me bum on their couch? Ben??”

You giggled and scooted away from Joe as he talked to the growing number of people on his live, lamenting that you were kicking him out. At one point, he fell against your side, whining as he read Chace’s comment.

“Chace says he loves you and to come over. Your response?” 

“On my way,” you mumbled as you went back to your emails, barely loud enough for the camera, but the chat went nuts when some people caught it, Joe zooming in on his face. 

“Chace, she hates you and says she never wants to see you again.”

“Not what I said,” you gently corrected, grinning as you kept yourself just out of frame of his camera.

“Yes, it is. I’ve just decided it is... Love you.” He paused for a moment, looking up at you expectantly, and you raised an eyebrow, glancing between him and his phone. “Say it back,” he whispered, still loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I’m gonna go take a shower,” you resolved, closing your laptop and sitting it on the coffee table as Joe complained loudly, calling after you in a mock sad voice.

“Say it back!”