How-can-we-be-lovers

How Can We Be Lovers.
Michael Bolton
How Can We Be Lovers.

Michael Bolton | How Can We Be Lovers

Raye’s Outdoors Mix: BSB 2 Year Anniversary Theme Song

With the official 2 year anniversary since the inception of Backseat Ballads, I figure it would only seem right if we had a song to commemorate this occasion. I mean, shit, this blog has been running for two years! I can still remember the moment when I made this blog and little did I know how much of an impact this would have on not only me but the others in the group (I hope).

And what better than the smooth intense vocals of our man, Michael Bolton. For a long time I’ve been meaning to write something up for this song and it’s only fitting this should be the case. For it was this song that would usher in a new era. This was the first song on what would be the very first edition of the Raye’s Outdoors Mix

It was on our first camp and we had just left Healesville to make our way to Maroondah Dam. Peter told me to put on my cd and with glee I inserted it in and anticpated the reactions of my fellow passengers (Law and Raye). And once those notes hit, you can hear the sound of excitement fill the car. I’ll never forget that moment and it’s one of the reasons why this song will always hold a special place not only in my heart but the legacy that has come to be since that sunny December day in 2011.

UNHhhh Sentence Starters:

  • It is so far fetched to believe that you are so special that you’re going to get butchered by a serial killer.
  • The odds are just not in your favor.
  • I am not a good person to sleep with.
  • I speak French.
  • Do you want to fight?
  • I want to talk to you about adult films.
  • God, I love porn.
  • If I was a porn producer, my name would be Kris Jammer.
  • I don’t want to do some of the things that I watch the porn of.
  • I am depraved, ___.
  • How can we be lovers if we can’t be friends?
  • How can we start over if the fighting never ends?
  • Hi, I’m the reason your dad left.
  • Game on, bitch.
  • Is this about the movie Contact?
  • I will not Jodie Foster that kind of behavior.
  • I’m not talking about this anymore.
  • I don’t want to do this with you anymore.
  • I’m the witch that won’t turn you into a frog because amphibians are people, too.
  • You’re gonna die up there.
  • I told you we get too personal too quick.
  • I make loneliness work for me.
  • I’ve finally lost contact with reality.
  • You didn’t make it this far in life without selling something.
  • I think the only way we can fix this is through intercourse.
  • Is Thanksgiving on a Thursday this year?
  • Something that I’m thankful for is that you continue to entertain friendship with me when all I do is interrupt you.
  • I’m just looking for a guy that’s emotionally available, not full of bees.
  • I’m just tapping at the door of your love.
  • I’m calling the police.
  • I’m more comfortable now. Is that okay?
  • I’m less comfortable now.
  • When we first started this, not only did I not know you, I had a low opinion of you.
  • Don’t touch me.
  • I got a sunburn, and I’m fucked now.
  • Why are you wearing these?
  • It’s a long story, bitch.
  • Don’t ever sing to me again.
  • Would you french me?
  • You are a disgusting, vile, worthless human being.
  • Honey, don’t even get me started, honey.
  • I don’t really understand the female sexual response.
  • I wish you wouldn’t. I wish you’d stop.
  • If it ain’t baroque, don’t fix it.
  • Let’s fight.
  • I’m a man. Deal with it.
  • I knew what was happening, and I still got scared.
  • The truth is sometimes dumb.
  • I’m not interested in any phone app unless it gets me laid.
  • I think it’s important to think about the type of old person that you want to be.
signs as '80s songs (part two)
  • Aries: 876-5309/Jenny: Tommy Tutone
  • Taurus: Africa: Toto
  • Gemini: Baba O' Riley: The Who
  • Cancer: Total Eclipse of The Heart: Bonnie Tyler
  • Leo: Thriller: Michael Jackson
  • Virgo: Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now: Starship
  • Libra: Somebody's Watching Me: Rockwell
  • Scorpio: 99 Red Ballons: Nena
  • Sagittarius: Manic Monday: The Bangles
  • Capricorn: How Can We Be Lovers: Michael Bolton
  • Aquarius: Girls Just Wanna Have Fun: Cyndi Lauper
  • Pisces: Footloose: Kenny Loggins
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No hard feelings, okay?

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Michael Bolton - How can we be lovers

Once upon a time the always amazing krem-de-le-creme sent me a skype prompt that went as follows. 

Anders realizing Hawke had a bad day and tries to cook him dinner, fails horribly. Also, he and justice should fight about adjusting ingredients.

This is the result. I really don’t feel like I have their voices quite down yet? But I swore I’d try new pairings…

***

It’s late, definitely more night than evening, when Hawke finally throws open the doors of the mansion, weight balanced on the blade of his staff. Anders looks over at the sudden interruption in alarm but when he sees no blood, only fatigue, he turns back to his stack of parchment. Justice urges him back to writing - He is uninjured, do not be distracted. We must continue our work - flaring lightly beneath Anders’ skin, tracing tendrils of blue like vines up his hands from the tips of his fingers.

“Thought you’d be at the clinic, love. I went there first but it was locked.” Garrett’s voice as he calls across the hallway is hoarse, like it always is when he’s been yelling and Anders feels a momentary pang of regret that he had declined to go with him. Hawke sounds tired, exhausted really; each heavy footstep drags across the floor, as though lifting each boot is simply too much effort. Justice pushes it back down and he keeps writing.

“Closed up a few hours ago,” Anders says. “It wasn’t too busy today, we must have finally got the latest plague sweeping through Darktown under control.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me how the Wounded Coast was?” Hawke whispers into his ear and Anders jumps, actually jumps out of his chair. When did Hawke get so close? He must be slipping, not to hear footsteps so close behind him.

“How was it, my heart?” Anders asks absentmindedly as he puts quill to paper again and scrawls another line.

Hawke laughs as he stumbles forward, bracing himself on the back of Anders’ chair.

“Oh, you know how it is. Pouring. Raiders. Slavers. Spiders everywhere. But all in all, not too bad for a Tuesday.”

At this Anders lays his quill down despite Justice’s faintly flaring protest, looks up at Garrett and chuckles, laying a hand lightly across his cheek.

“I should have come with you, love,” he says, stroking calloused fingertips against the man’s overgrown stubble.

Hawke melts into the touch, closing his eyes only to snap them open again with a sheepish expression as his stomach rumbles so loudly that Dog twitches awake from his place in front of the fire and growls.

“I’m hungry…” he whines, casting a hopeful look at Anders who rolls his eyes lightly.

“What about Orana?”

“It’s her night off…” He trails off and it’s silent for a few moments before Garrett sighs heavily and continues. “I guess I’ll just go down to the Hanged Man… Alone… Find something that might only give me a mild case of food poisoning…”

Anders stops writing, he never can resist Hawke’s whining. Justice stirs as he drops the quill but Yes, this IS important, this IS Justice. How can we leave our lover to suffer? and the spirit within him quiets, settles to nothing more than a light, flickering imprint under his skin.

“I’ll make you something, my love,” Anders whispers, pressing a kiss against Hawke’s chin before he walks off towards the kitchens.

***

Hawke hears a loud clanging which jerks him from sleep, the imprint of the edge of the table carved across his cheek.

Off in the kitchen Anders’ voice raises until it’s nearly shrill and Hawke thinks that’s probably not a good sign. Whatever Anders is making does smell wonderful though he realizes as a loud growl from his stomach brings him back to reality.

“Justice, NO. You don’t even eat, stop adding things!” There’s another loud crash, as though a pan has been slammed onto the hearth.

“That is far too much salt, Justice. Maker, the last body you inhabited was a corpse. Corpses wouldn’t know what actual food tastes like.”

There’s a distant rumbling, much like a lightning spell, that he can’t translate into words just yet; not until he takes a deep breath and catches the faint metallic twinge of lyrium twisting in the air. Justice. It’s always Justice now and Hawke summons a thread of mana, listening intently to catch whatever the spirit adds.

“Humans require salt in order to live, as well as enjoy it. We must add more.”

That really doesn’t sound good. Nor does the answering, aggrieved sigh.

“Anders?” He tries to no answer. “Love? Are you two alright in there?”

“We’re fine!” Anders says as Hawke heard a dull thud, rather like a tin of spices - quite possibly the aforementioned salt - hitting the floor. “Don’t come in!”

Hawke groans. That is definitely a bad sign. He rises with a sigh, bracing against the edge of the table and walks over towards the kitchen.

“Anders?” He calls and just as he walks across the threshold there’s awhoosh and a high spark of flames from the hearth. “Shit!”

“I…” Anders stutters, staring at the fire rising higher with each passing second, wide-eyed. “Hawke…”

He pushes past Anders, priming winter’s grasp between his hands before releasing it onto the flames which sputter and flare before dying out.

“You alright, my love?” Garrett asks, stifling a cough as the smoke rises higher.

Anders smiles ruefully, raising a hand to rake through the strands of hair that have escaped his mussed ponytail. “I… we ruined your dinner, love.”

Hawke grins, taking the last few steps towards the blonde before pulling him into a soft, needy kiss.

“S’alright,” he mumbles around Anders’ lips. “Think I’d rather move on to dessert anyway.”