yuletidings!
YOU GUYS YOU GUYS.
I got Blake Lively/Leighton Meester for my Yuletide gift, omg omg omg omg. And we will hold hands like paper dolls (titled after my icon! That is so neat, why didn't I think of that?). I'm supposed to be on Brussels sprouts prep, so let me just give you my entire comment back to the author:
(1) I LOVE YOUR LEIGHTON. So many of her comments are delightfully written, playful and perceptive at the same time. It makes me wonder which parts of her remarks are joking and which parts are real frustration. You ride that line perfectly. And I love your descriptions of her, as the silent-era damsel, the pout that launches a thousand fics, and this, in particular: She had the neck for it, the legs, the butt, the lipstick smile. Wonderful. Also, the fact that she keeps dropping her clothes. Bless.
"Red rover, red rover, let Ed come over," Leighton said
Now, that's just clever.
(2) I LOVE YOUR BLAKE. I can feel her struggle here, between her job and her life, essentially, between the illusion and the truth on the other side of the mirror. I also love all the little ways in which she cares for Leighton, feeding her, assuaging her hurt feelings. And this: California was where she'd grown up, but New York was Leighton. There might have been some hand-to-heart motion going on there on my part. And her baking! Man, do I envy her stand mixer. Also!, heeeeee: sacred space. I hear you, girl, I hear you.
(3) I LOVE YOUR BLAKE/LEIGHTON. Their witty banter, the way they ignore the microwave beeping at them, their casual intimacy, the effortless way in which they interact with and around each other.
"Oh, the life of an actual walking heterosexual in Hollywood, so hard," Leighton said.
"Especially with a foxy accent," Blake added. "Bug off."
Ha! And the ending: perfect, perfect.
Seriously, it is so fucking awesome, I am spinning around in circles in this one spot, right next to where I'm keeping this story in a cage forever.
Also! HOLY SHIT I WROTE SOMETHING. I just sat there and wrote and wrote and wrote and wrote and wrote and wrote and some of it was even good! Haaaaaaaaaa. But, really, I'm so pleased with being able to use my brain in this way again. It's a Christmas miracle!
I got Blake Lively/Leighton Meester for my Yuletide gift, omg omg omg omg. And we will hold hands like paper dolls (titled after my icon! That is so neat, why didn't I think of that?). I'm supposed to be on Brussels sprouts prep, so let me just give you my entire comment back to the author:
(1) I LOVE YOUR LEIGHTON. So many of her comments are delightfully written, playful and perceptive at the same time. It makes me wonder which parts of her remarks are joking and which parts are real frustration. You ride that line perfectly. And I love your descriptions of her, as the silent-era damsel, the pout that launches a thousand fics, and this, in particular: She had the neck for it, the legs, the butt, the lipstick smile. Wonderful. Also, the fact that she keeps dropping her clothes. Bless.
"Red rover, red rover, let Ed come over," Leighton said
Now, that's just clever.
(2) I LOVE YOUR BLAKE. I can feel her struggle here, between her job and her life, essentially, between the illusion and the truth on the other side of the mirror. I also love all the little ways in which she cares for Leighton, feeding her, assuaging her hurt feelings. And this: California was where she'd grown up, but New York was Leighton. There might have been some hand-to-heart motion going on there on my part. And her baking! Man, do I envy her stand mixer. Also!, heeeeee: sacred space. I hear you, girl, I hear you.
(3) I LOVE YOUR BLAKE/LEIGHTON. Their witty banter, the way they ignore the microwave beeping at them, their casual intimacy, the effortless way in which they interact with and around each other.
"Oh, the life of an actual walking heterosexual in Hollywood, so hard," Leighton said.
"Especially with a foxy accent," Blake added. "Bug off."
Ha! And the ending: perfect, perfect.
Seriously, it is so fucking awesome, I am spinning around in circles in this one spot, right next to where I'm keeping this story in a cage forever.
Also! HOLY SHIT I WROTE SOMETHING. I just sat there and wrote and wrote and wrote and wrote and wrote and wrote and some of it was even good! Haaaaaaaaaa. But, really, I'm so pleased with being able to use my brain in this way again. It's a Christmas miracle!