#queued post: i am out there on a stroll

[nahoney22]

Hello! Sorry, back at with a nother request. Definitely no stress! I just thought something cute between Wrecker and a female reader who is super short and tiny would be cute or funny. I could see h just being fascinated and amused at the size difference. Again, definitely no stress. Hope your doing well and practicing proper self care!

Double, no Triple

Wrecker X F!Reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: none, mainly fluff. Short female reader. Meet-cute. Not proofread. Flirting. Teasing. Slight mentions of stereotyping short reader.

Authors note: I’m glad that you’re willing to request from me again. Thanks for the kind words. 😌 Queued Post. Sorry the wait.

"And there we have it."

You grunted, struggling to maintain your balance as your boss carelessly added another box to the towering stack you were already carrying. The load was now so immense that it obscured your entire head from view. Suppressing your frustration, you couldn't help but mutter under your breath, "Why couldn't someone else handle this?" Your bitter remark elicited a chuckle from your boss, who promptly sent you on your way.

Usually, you didn't mind taking on delivery jobs. They provided a welcome respite from the stifling atmosphere of the shop and allowed you to breathe in the fresh air. Moreover, you did enjoy taking a leisurely stroll through the bustling city stalls on your return.

However, today was an entirely different story. The towering boxes you were burdened with made it impossible to indulge in such pleasures. You could barely see where you were going, and with every accidental collision, you found yourself offering apologies to everyone.

If only you were a little taller, this wouldn't be such a challenge. Although your stature was far from commanding, what you lacked in height, you made up for with personality and heart.

Although you thought you knew the route like the back of your hand, the darkening streets, engulfed in the shadows of towering buildings, gave you an inkling that you might be heading in the wrong direction. Letting out a sigh of frustration, you dropped the boxes with an exasperated huff, cringing at the sound of something shattering inside. In that moment, your focus shifted entirely from the contents of the boxes to your surroundings, desperately trying to figure out where you had ended up.

As you glanced at your data pad, frustration evident on your face, you decided to take matters into your own hands. Setting a waypoint that would emit a reassuring ding each time you moved in the right direction, you turned to the scattered boxes on the ground, placing your hands on your hips and letting out another exasperated sigh. "How am I going to pick all of you up?"

Suddenly, a booming voice echoed from behind you, causing you to jump in surprise. “Need some help there, ma’am?”

You turned around to find a towering figure approaching. Clad in dark armor with a helmet adorned with a painted skull, he exuded an aura of intimidation. If it weren't for the desolate street and the absence of bystanders, you might have felt more at ease. However, as he halted in front of you, you couldn't help but gulp, craning your neck to meet his gaze.

He was far taller than you, doubling, no, tripling your height. But as he removed his helmet, revealing kind eyes, your apprehension began to fade.

"I said, do you need some help, ma'am?" he repeated, gesturing towards the scattered boxes. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you realised you had been standing there, silently gazing up at him instead of responding. Pausing for a moment, you felt a hint of apprehension.

"That depends..." you replied slowly, glancing at him from the corner of your eye, noticing the prominent scar across his raised eyebrow. "Are you just going to pretend to help and then steal them? I'm a lot tougher than I look, I'll have you know."

He let out a warm and hearty chuckle that instantly brought a smile to your face. "I don't doubt tha’ for a second," he chuckled, raising an eyebrow before extending his hand down towards you. "Name's Wrecker."

You reciprocated with your name, shaking his hand firmly with your own, feeling the strength in his grip. "Nice to meet you, Wrecker. But yeah, I could definitely use some help. I took a wrong turn and now I can't pick them up."

"Not a problem for me!" he exclaimed with a grin. You watched, impressed, as he effortlessly lifted the boxes, balancing them atop one another with just one hand. "Where are we headed, lil’ lady?"

You rolled your eyes playfully at the nickname, a common one you often received, but somehow, the way he said it seemed endearing.

As you both set off in the correct direction, the weight of the conversation became as light and easy as the burden of the boxes had been lifted from your hands. Engaging in small talk, you discovered that Wrecker was not only talkative but also strong and incredibly likable.

"So, why didn't your boss assign someone, you know, bigger for this task?" Wrecker asked, his deep voice carrying a hint of amusement.

"Funny, I actually asked the same question," you replied with a sigh of relief, grateful that the boxes were now safely in the hands of this gentle giant. "I suppose they trust me enough."

He chuckled, his laughter resonating warmly. Then, he inquired about your line of work, and you learned that Wrecker was a soldier—a clone for the GAR. "You're much larger than the other clones, if you don't mind me saying," you remarked, genuinely curious.

"Not at all. It's only fair that ya talk about my height when I've mentioned yours multiple times," he replied sheepishly, puffing his chest out proudly as you continued walking together. "I actually serve in a different unit than the 'Regs'."

"But enough about me," he said, his gaze locked with yours as you approached the drop-off point. There was a twinkle in his eye that caught your attention. "Are you single?"

You took a sip of water from the canteen attached to your hip, nearly choking on it in surprise, which only elicited another hearty laugh from him. "Well, are you?" he pressed, his curiosity evident.

"Slow down, buddy," you giggled softly, feeling a warmth spreading through you at his question. It amazed you that he seemed genuinely interested in such a short span of time. "We've only just met."

"Just an innocent question. You don't need to answer," he replied softly, placing the boxes down as you reached your destination. He turned to face you, his expression open and attentive.

"If you must know," you began shyly, realising that there was no reason to shy away from the possibility of a friendship or even a romantic connection, "I am single."

A coy grin played on his lips, and he nodded appreciatively. "That's surprising."

"Oh, really?" you quipped, raising an eyebrow in playful curiosity.

"Yeah, you're cute," he said casually, though a touch of nervousness crept into his voice as he rubbed the back of his head.

You smirked, meeting his gaze directly. "Cute as in 'I could put you in my pocket because you're so small cute,' or...?" You raise your hands using air quotations.

He let out a soft chuckle, his eyes filled with sincerity. "As in, ‘I think you're a beautiful girl. And I'd like to take you out one evening’. If you're free." His words were gentle, his nerves palpable.

As you gazed up at him, a myriad of emotions swirling within you, you found yourself considering his proposition. The blush on your cheeks deepened as his smile widened, and your heart danced with excitement. Giving in to the temptation, you decided to take a leap of faith and accept his offer. You shared your contact details with him, your grin mirroring his own.

"I'd like that, sure," you say, your voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. His eyes sparkled with delight as he nodded, a happy expression adorning his handsome face.

"W-Well, that's great!" he exclaimed, his words accompanied by a slight stutter, clearly surprised that you had agreed. "But I'd also like to put you in my pocket sometime too," he added with a mischievous smirk, his playful remark drawing a giggle from you.

A gentle warmth spread through your heart as you returned his smile. It was as if Wrecker could read your thoughts, because you wanted to lean up and kiss his cheek for both a farewell and for helping you out. But seeing as there was a significant height difference, he takes the lead and takes your hand, leaning down and kissing it gently.

"I hope to see ya soon," he murmured softly. "Don't go asking other guys to help you with more boxes anytime soon, unless it's me." His words held a touch of fake possessiveness, his playful tone and genuine smile making your heart flutter even more.

You chuckled, feeling a newfound connection forming between you. "I promise, Wrecker. You'll be my go-to guy for any box-carrying needs.”

With a final exchange of smiles and a lingering sense of anticipation, you both parted ways, leaving you with a mind full of excitement for the future.

Masterlist

More Wrecker Works

Tags: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @theroguesully @mustluvecho @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @imalovernotahater @sleepycreativewriter @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 1 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @photogirl894 @fantasyproductions @by-the-primes @the-bad-batch-baroness

#the bad batch wrecker x reader #tbb wrecker x reader #tbb wrecker x you #bad batch wrecker x reader #nahoney22 writes #bad batch wrecker

[motopg]

URL GRAPHICS ⇝ ALEXMARQUEZ made for ellie

#these look like i did them under the influence or drugs #which i wish #queued post: i am out there on a stroll #no but ellie let's call it abstract art hope you like these. 🤍 #alexmarquez #amar #mgp #mgp: edit #e: mgp #e: alex marquez #e: gr #e: all #e:home;run

[starglitterz]

I have been waiting since I saw that you had a really fun event planned up!(except I went to sleep) And guess what! It is indeed amazing!

Here is the request for my order!

Gelato - Childe!

Chocolate! With chipped cream hehehe. I am sure my order is gonna be delicious asf cause you are taking it! Thank you!

ASKJSADJKASD HELP THANK U ANON <333 YOURE SO NICE OMG T_T /g

request; childe fluff, jealousy

cw; violence (it's childe duh)

please reblog ! it helps a lot :)

childe.

tartaglia is known for his bloodlust and urge to battle out every little thing, but he swears at this moment he's never wanted to fight someone more. he clenches his hands into fists, threatening to snap the poor wooden chopsticks you were teaching him to use in half. your 'friend' just had to come and ruin your date, didn't he? well technically, he hasn't done anything except talk to you, childe supposes. but he does have a tendency to exaggerate things, and at this moment the conversation you and the other man are having makes ajax want to stab the table knife into the stranger's eye.

childe is frowning so much he barely realises when you introduce him to the man, "kaeya, this is my boyfriend, childe! childe, meet kaeya alberich, one of my closest companions from mondstadt." the blue-haired man sticks his hand out as a friendly gesture, and tartaglia wonders if it would be considered rude if he used his hydro blade to chop kaeya's arm off. you shoot him a pleading glance, because you really do want two of the most important people in your life to get along, so although it makes ajax want to throw up, he plasters a fake smile across his face and shakes the other man's hand aggressively.

kaeya seems a little startled by how strong tartaglia's grip is, but his lips instead curve into a mischievous smile as he picks up on how jealous your boyfriend is. "my dear y/n, you really should have taken me up on my offer! my heart is truly broken," he pats your head, laughing when you scold him for messing up your style. "i'm sure you'll recover," you reply, rolling your eyes at his drama, "anyways, didn't you say albedo's waiting for you?" kaeya shoots a glance at his watch, "oh damn, you're right! guess i better go before he gives me a potion to make sure i'm always on time."

blowing you a kiss, he strolls off with a wave, "see you around, lovebirds!" you giggle at tartaglia's grumpy expression, leaning over to kiss him, "what's wrong, ajax?" he crosses his arms and looks away, "nothing. what offer was he talking about?" eyes widening as the realisation that he was envious sets in, you grin, "he asked me to show him around liyue while he's here for a meeting, that's it." childe now thinks that it was rather stupid of him to get jealous over something that he didn't even know was about, and that he probably shouldn't have assumed that kaeya was instantly talking about dating.

still, ajax wraps his arms around you and nuzzles his cheek against yours, "i love you." you aren't particularly surprised by the affection, but the genuine tone with which tartaglia admits his love for you sends heat rising to your face, "i love you too." "now can we go home and cuddle?" he pouts, still embracing you. childe would never admit it for the life of him, but he is rather insecure and worried that you will leave him for someone else, so reassurance from you always helps alleviate his fears. and when you smile and cup his face, "of course!" ajax thinks that you're the person he wants to marry someday.

quill speaks!

the genshin fandom needs more childe/kaeya interaction !!!!!

AND ALSO did u guys see me sneak kaebedo in there

plz this post will be queued during my hiatus so i hope u guys enjoyed it!

and i hope you enjoy your stay at quill’s dessert cafe, and do check out the menu if you'd like ! 🍭

© starglitterz 2021. do not repost or modify in any way.

#q.300 party #q.childe #childe x reader #childe fluff #childe imagines #childe drabbles #childe scenarios #childe genshin impact #genshin impact childe #genshin childe #genshin impact fluff #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact writing #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact drabbles #genshin impact #tartaglia x reader #genshin tartaglia #ajax x reader #genshin ajax #tartaglia genshin impact #ajax genshin impact #[✏️] ━━━ quill writes ! #[❤️] ━━━ fluff !

[adelaidedrubman]

look at that, i’m finally posting fic that isn’t just a joke. trying to get back in my groove with a really old kinktober prompt from this list i didn’t get done in time. posting now in the spirit of forcing myself to return to my “do what the fuck you want” era but also genuinely nervous because it’s been so long since i’ve posted anything semi serious let alone smut so queuing for 5 AM on a monday with no tags and hoping nobody actually sees it <3 if you do, keep scrolling

wordcount: 7k

pairing: john x jestiny | pre-reaping au: part iii | part i | part ii | (no need to actually read, pure smut)

warnings: NSFW!!!!!!! oral sex. throat fucking. rimming. inadequate discussion prior to any of these things. all of the aforementioned occurring on a church altar. arguably semi public? (debate of the hour, actually). proceed responsibly.

John knew, of course, that Deputy Rook would be the officer to respond.

For one, because he knew she was on duty, both from the schedule Nancy dutifully provided him at the beginning of every shift and from his own… information collection and personal intervention, which he knew had ultimately resulted in her schedule being shifted so that she was on duty for most of the weekend, only being granted a brief reprieve on Friday evenings (the time she’d given him the most trouble) before ultimately having to report back bright and early on Saturday morning, granted just enough time to sleep before doing the same song and dance on Sunday, finally allowed a “weekend” off on Monday and Tuesday, and…

Well, it’s not that he would ever plan his own life around her schedule, but he was certainly aware of it, as much as he was aware of every other mundane ongoing in the county.

And yes, perhaps even after he knew the necessary evidence should already in place he’d waited (less than twenty four hours) to officially “discover” the crime he was requesting an officer respond to. Not to plan things according to her schedule, of course, but…

But he was well aware that he was finally calling it in when she was the only officer on street duty, with less than an hour left on her shift. And he hoped that meant she’d be eager to finish up business and leave, and be less likely to give him grief about reporting the matter at all. That’s the only reason he stalled on reporting, truly.

He reassured himself of as much as his heart jumped in his chest at the first sound of tires crunching against the gravel road, causing him to leap up from the pew and scurry towards the window to ensure it was in fact a Hope County Police Department cruiser finally popping up over the horizon.

He studied the faint outline of his reflection in the window for a moment as he mentally rehearsed the interaction he’d accounted for (not planned), fluffing his beard and slicking back his hair before making his way to the door, heart giving another offbeat flutter as he confirmed the flash of copper hair visible from the driver’s seat.

“Deputy,” he greeted with a smile as she finally exited the car, leaning casually in the doorway. Her presence did lend the air a certain electric quality. Sure, they’d been together before, and alone. But never in the broad daylight, and so far from any other civilization, removed as Eden’s Convent was from the main roadways. “I’m relieved to see you’re finally here.”

She merely rubbed fingers against obviously tired eyelids, trying to massage away bags before looking up at him with bloodshot eyes. “You wanted something?”

“To report a crime,” he said matter-of-factly.

“You couldn’t have done that at the station like last week?”

“It’s an urgent crime this time,” he lamented, stepping back into the vestibule of the church and waving for her to follow. “And there might be fresh evidence to investigate.”

She let out a long, groaning exhale, massaging her temples for a beat more before strolling up the steps to meet him. “What’s the crime?”

“Trespass.”

“You’re going with trespass again?”

“I’m reporting,” he spat out, sharp and firm, “A trespass, yes. Or anything else you see fit to charge it as.”

“Great,” she said with a roll of her eyes, before letting them fall along the doorway he stood in. “So did they break in here?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“You wouldn’t know?”

“I wasn’t there.”

“Of course not.”

“And I haven’t found any evidence of use of force at this door, although we do keep it unlocked, so —”

“So there by definition couldn’t have been, so we should move on to whatever the fuck it is you do want to show me.”

He huffed, giving her an indignant look before waving her on through the greeting room into the main building. “But I noticed footprints,” he said, pointing down to the imprints left in flakes of sawdust atop the red carpeting of the aisle, as he stepped just to the side of it. “And that made me think something was off.”

“Uh huh,” she grunted. “And you caught someone breaking in when, exactly —?”

“I didn’t,” he waved away, continuing on, leading her towards the projector broadcasting onto screens hanging on either side of the main stage. “Until I checked our security camera footage the next day.”

“Okay.”

“And you won’t believe what I saw.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“You will,” he agreed with an emphatic nod. “This video was taken at 1:42 AM last night,” he explained, before pressing play.

He looked over his shoulder to confirm her eyes were adequately trained on the screen as she followed him up towards the stage of the church, gaze bouncing between her and the image of three shadowy figures stepping into the hallway he played on screen for her.

“There,” he exclaimed, finally pressing his thumb down on the power off button. “You see?”

“Seems like some folks came into your church late last night,” she scoffed.

“Right,” he nodded again. “And of course I don’t yet have enough evidence to prove it without further investigation, but I highly suspect it was one of the hooligans King’s Hot Springs Hotel just next door is constantly renting rooms to, which the owner would be responsible for under dram shop provisions, which —”

She cut him off with a wave of her hand “So what do you want me to put in the police report, exactly?”

“Well,” he began, enunciating pointedly, “I’m hoping everything I’ve reported.”

“Right,” she agreed, flopping down her hand again. “I can jot down a note somewhere John Seed thinks someone came into his church, but what do you want me to actually report?”

“A trespass,” he hissed back, impatiently.

“I mean,” she deadpanned, eyes still half lidded. “You haven’t shown me anything to report as a trespass, or any other crime, so far.”

“Haven’t shown you —?” he began in disbelief. “Haven’t shown you anything?! Deputy, I am currently showing you —”

“You’re showing me a fuckin’ church, John,” she spat out with a sneer. “If you could show me any evidence of property damage, that’d be one thing, but even if everything you were telling me was true, you cannot fuckin’ trespass upon a goddamn church.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, still slow and measured and ringing with politeness as he paused with thoughtful calm to accentuate the contrast with her belligerent rudeness. He shifted his arms back to press palms against the raised stage of the altar behind him, lifting himself to sit casually at its ledge, smiling to himself as she darted eyes to the side to quickly conceal the way they’d automatically settled at his lap as he propped himself up. “Is your contention that we should be denied equal protection under the law simply because we’re a place of worship? You’re refusing to investigate simply because we’re a church?”

“My contention,” she hissed, hooking thumbs into her belt loops and jutting her chin upward in a pitiful attempt to appear suddenly energized and intimidating as she stepped forward and glared up at him, “is that churches are by definition not covered by the criminal trespass statute.”

He bent at the waist to lean down and meet her challenging glare, flaunting his high ground. “It would be unconstitutional to exclude churches from the protections of the trespass statute. The Free Exercise clause of the —”

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ —”

“— of the First Amendment explicitly prohibits excluding from a publicly available protection —”

“— excluded from fuck all, we responded to the fucking call didn’t we —”

“— based purely on the status of religious affiliation —”

“— sure as shit does not prohibit a content neutral definition that happens to exclude your fucking situation, which if you took the time to think through this dumbass plan you’d know is —”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he shouted, pitch still rising with the polite inflection he used the first time even as his volume grew loud enough to echo off the church walls, because for some reason that one tried his patience in earnest. “Are you really qualified to decide I’m exempt from reporting a crime on constitutional grounds? Are they teaching the First Amendment at the Montana Police Academy now? Please, tell me, Deputy, what’s the response code for a violation of our most basic civil liberties?”

She pursed her lips together as she gave him a wide, closed mouth smile that made dimples emerge just as amber eyes narrowed to glare at him, slapping an open palm down on the carpeted floor he sat on to signal she’d lost her patience too.

“They’re teaching it in fuckin’ grade school, John,” she replied in a tone both softer in volume and higher in pitch as it hissed from the back of her throat, with an inflection that seemed designed to imply she really did pity him for not already knowing. “It’s one fucking sentence in a document written over two hundred years ago, even us simple folk have gotten around to —”

“With two hundred years worth of case law! Which I suppose they must have taught you at —”

“Don’t need fuckin’ case law to read the fucking statute, which the Police Academy does teach,” she spat back, forcefully enough for him to feel the heat of her huffing breaths fall against the exposed portions of his chest, making it very difficult for him to resist arching into it, or tugging at her hair to pull her away from him, the vile creature. “Which if you didn’t bother to check, requires the suspect to have entered or remained unlawfully in an occupied structure —”

��Or the premise of another, if you didn’t bother to read on to the second subsection, which apparently you don’t —”

“— says the man who read the Free Exercise Clause before the Establishment Clause, apparently —”

“— and just in case you haven’t checked, this is privately owned property, legally indistinguishable from any other privately owned building —”

“Oh, is it? Then what do you pay in taxes on the place, John?”

“ — completely irrelevant, it’s private property!”

“— that you represent as open to the public,” she replied with a scowl, leaning in closer, puffed out chest nearly touching his abdomen as she stepped forward to stand defiantly between his open and dangling legs. “So I don’t see how someone entering a building open to the public could be guilty of trespassing,” she said with a bored roll of her eyes.

“The same way any privately owned business —”

“So is your fuckin’ contention then,” she sneered, cocking her head with a crinkle of her nose, “that privately owned establishments that open their doors to the public maintain their right to exclude visitors?”

“Of course.”

“Well,” she drawled with a slow roll of her tongue to draw out the ‘L’ sound, tapping a hand atop his knee. “I’m sure Mary May Fairgrave will be thrilled to hear that, because it’s my understanding some jackass has been coming in her bar every Friday night claiming she can’t kick him out because —”

“— would be a violation of the First Amendment to exclude on the basis of religion —”

“— on the basis of you not fucking buying anything, which if you —”

“— and besides that go there during regular business hours, which —”

“— which bars have, on account of bein’ businesses, whereas a fuckin’ church —”

“— would be illegal to treat us differently simply because —”

“— would be illegal to give y’all special treatment and not recognize the differences between —”

“— for special treatment, only asking to be treated exactly the same as —”

“So is your contention then,” she barked loudly enough to echo off the walls in interruption, “that, aside from the fact that Mary May pays her fucking taxes, your church is otherwise, for all intents and purposes, legally indistinguishable from the Spread Eagle?”

“Yes, and entitled to all the same protections.”

“No differences?”

“None de facto, for our purposes.”

She pulled the corners of her mouth down and curled her upper lip, making the indents of dimples sink into her cheeks and the creases of wrinkles scrunch along her little nose, and truly only she could behave atrociously enough to make the sight more infuriating than adorable.

“So I should just ignore that it’s a place of worship, and treat this place…” she paused to wave in gesture, letting her shoulders shrug with a forced mimic of a single huff of laughter, “exactly like I would the Spread Eagle?”

“If that little thought experiment helps you to do your job, then by all means.”

“Alright,” she chirped too pleasantly, pursed lips now curling into a smile, dimples deepening further.

“Alright,” he repeated back.

“Alright,” she agreed again, raising auburn brows.

“Al —” he only managed to spit out the first syllable in repetition, the second swallowed down with a sharp gasp for air as she reached a hand forward to press flush against the front of his jeans, rubbing her palm up and down along the seam with a rush of sudden, shocking friction. “I — Jessie, what the hell are you… Fuck —”

“Per your fuckin’ orders,” she rumbled, a breathy mix between a purr and a growl, “I am treating this place exactly like I would the Spread Eagle,” she explained plainly as she paused the brushing of her hand to grip him tightly, bringing her free hand to the small of his back to scoot him further towards the ledge of the altar and into her touch. “And this is usually the best way to get you to shut up there.”

“For fuck’s sake J — Deputy Rook,” he forced himself to hiss out with biting disapproval, despite the way his hips began to rock forward of their own volition, then jerked sharply upward to chase her touch as she lifted her hand to work at his belt instead. “We are in the middle of…” he trailed off, unable to finish the statement even to himself, digging teeth into his bottom lip as his eyes trailed along the rows of pews.

“We’re on private property, John,” she cooed, honeyed thick with venom, tugging at his waistband with now practiced efficiency to push his pants and briefs down to his ankles. “No real reason to treat it any different, is there?” she taunted, brushing fingers along his thighs and eyes along arousal now fully exposed and undeniable and aching for her touch.

“In fact,” she hummed, bringing the hand to his neckline instead, pulling him down to briefly soothe him with an unusually tender kiss as she turned fingers to the buttons of his shirt, “we’re on your private property, outside of open hours,” she added in a warm pant against his lips as she parted, undoing the final button of his shirt before shoving a hand against his now bare chest to push him down to lay flat atop the platform then sliding the fingers along his sides, back down to the legs she settled between. “I think we could even get a little crazier than we do there, don’t you?”

And with that her lips found the head of his cock with the same undelayed swoop downward that her hands found the tops of his thighs in, pinning them down flat to keep him in place as she dipped her head to take him in her mouth, restraining him from fully arching into the delicious sensation.

Fuck, he cursed internally as she slid pursed lips back up just as quickly, leaving a pleasured shiver of skin crying out for more in her wake.

But god, was sucking his cock really what qualified as ‘getting crazy’ to her, though? He might have misjudged just how adventurous the little devil was. It could have easily been called vanilla if it not lent a certain novelty by their particular location (which was a distressing drawback to him, of course, something to push out of his mind to enjoy himself). And, well — the fact that their ledgers on head given were notably unbalance thus far, and of all the sinful things they had done it was the first time he was feeling the warm plush of her mouth around him.

And fuck, the fact that she was fucking good at it, he admitted to himself with a quick little spasm of his spine, hips bucking upward and a hand shooting out to grasp at the back of her neck, tugging with restless frustration along the stray baby hairs falling from that damned tight twisted braid she always seemed to wear on duty, wishing desperately he had a full loose mane to pull a proper fistful of.

Instead, he was forced to simply settle for brushing fingers up the base of her skull, slipping beneath the beginning pleats of her braid to thread between taut strands and press downward in eager encouragement for her to keep going.

And she responded to his touch with her own little show of encouragement, shifting the hands pinning his thighs down to bring one up to press against the base of his pelvis, causing the pressure already flooding him there to shoot a quick, dizzying bolt of electricity through his length, making him twitch rigid in her mouth. She slid the other hand towards the center to massage along his inner thigh with a contrasting gentle, almost teasing caress.

But no amount of gentleness could stop him from thrusting his hips up freely now that he was allowed the purchase to do so, almost ashamed at how quickly he shed any hesitance brought by their location to fuck freely into the slick pressure of her mouth and tight grip of her hand now wrapping around the base of his cock.

He tossed his head back against the floorboards in full surrender to it, bucking more frantically as she egged him on with equal parts roughness and gentleness; the tight pumping of her fist at his base and the sweet stroking of her fingers up the sensitive skin of his inner thigh reassuring him that she could take every little thrust.

Although he was quickly losing the ability to restrain himself, anyways, as ecstatic pressure seemed to build from every source. As the bobbing of her head to slide the warm pressure of full, pursed lips and flexing tongue down his length kept picking up speed. And the grip of the hand pumping along the expanse of length she couldn’t swallow clenched ever tighter.

And the hand brushing along his inner thigh kept creeping up and up and up, until he had to spread his legs wider just to accommodate the gentle, teasing fingertips along their path, and were then tickling along the creases at their top and still inching further, and — was she — ?

He swallowed and gasped, throat suddenly dry with the realization. They’d reached just past even, and he could no longer deny understanding of the meaning of the way they danced along the soft skin of his inner cheeks now, asking silent permission, daring interruption of their clear path.

An interruption he simply couldn’t bring himself to make when the thrilling shiver each brush of fingertips sent up his spine grew stronger and more focused the closer she came to his center. Until the shiver was finally a jolt that made his arched spine stiffen straight as she finally brushed along the sensitive rim at the crevice she spent so long teasing, and he shot up to his elbows at the sensation.

“J-Jessie,” he whimpered out in pleading, without being able to focus lust flurried mind on exactly what he was pleading for.

Her only immediate answer was the sudden upward flick of tawny eyes to train directly on him as she swallowed him yet again, gaze trailing along the quiver his bottom lip gave in response to the ghosting brush of her thumb along his hole.

“Jessie, please,” he panted out a little more desperately, willing himself to really mean it as a signal to pause this time.

John forced himself to break from her stare and focus eyes blurred from being squeezed shut tight to the point of watering on the rows of pews behind her, dart from the arched windows and aisles of red carpeting that served as visual evidence of just where they were. God, it was bad enough he’d been weak and at the mercy of sin enough to let her go down on him here — to even get aroused at her devilish tricks in the first place, for that matter. To add to that actually finishing here, and like that… “Fuck Jessie, we’re still — we’re still in —”

He still couldn’t manage to finish the thought before she jerked her head upward and let him fall from her mouth with a soft, wet pop of those now swollen lips. She let her fist loosen from around his base as well, while the hand between his legs stayed stubbornly in place, caressing teasingly just outside his rim.

Before he could even bother to choke out words again she rose to stand, now leaning over him in his place still half reclined and splayed out atop the altar for her, free hand moving to caress back and forth along the ridge of his hip bone as the thumb of the other finally pressed flush against the puckered muscles they’d been teasing the edge of.

“Fuck, you’re sensitive, huh?” she rasped with doe eyes wide in focus on his lap as if to show clearly that she’d seen the shameful, needy little twitch his cock gave in response to pressure against his hole even without hardness itself being touched.

“Jessie,” he whined out uselessly yet again, completely paralyzed between asking her to stop out of shame and staving off the worse torture of losing her touch.

“John?” she rumbled hoarsely, her soprano particularly gravelly in the afterglow of his fucking her throat.

“Will you just fucking —” the words caught in the dried and sore flesh of his own throat to stick there painfully as she continued. He thrust grasping hands out to wrap around her arms just above the crook of her elbows and pull himself more upright, look into her face more directly.

“Let’s finish this at my place,” he offered, best compromise he could think of, even though the mere ten minute wait of the car ride even felt intolerable to him at this point, badly as he needed her. “Take me home, if you’re inclined to touch me like that,” he reasoned, knitting brows upward in pleading. “We’ll actually have what we need there, to do it properly and — fuck,” he gasped as she gave another quick brush along wrinkled skin, biting into his lower lip before continuing. “And could take our time, and wouldn’t —” And wouldn’t be in the building he was entrusted with keeping holy. “And not have to rush. Come on, we can forget the police report, if you’ll just take me home now.”

But the soft smile that spread along plumped lips seemed more smug than acquiescing, pulling slightly crooked to one side. “You’d forget this entire little stunt of yours just to get my fingers in you?”

“Yes,” he sighed, feeling creeping shame at how easily he made the concession, but not as much as he was sure he’d feel letting her continue sucking him off and playing with his asshole on a fucking church altar. “You can do whatever you like to me, if you just leave with me now.”

He felt briefly hopeful with the sprawling flush of pink creeping along her cheeks at the promise.

Before she clicked her tongue against her teeth and shook her head in the negative, finally removing the hand from between his legs and shifting arms up to press forearms against his, holding him by the elbows.

“Sorry, baby. I’m still on the clock whether you’re done making up fake crimes for me or not,” she whispered with a devastatingly chaste kiss to the sweat slickened skin of his forehead, gripping his arms to guide him back flat again. “But I’ll still take care of you best I can,” she added, trailing those same butterfly kisses down his torso, along the bones of his hips before finally gripping the base of his cock again.

And she met the swift upward arch of his hips from the sudden pang of pleasure sparking through him anew with a kiss to the tops of his thighs to ease the tensing limbs back down, ghosting her kisses inward again as she crouched between his legs. She trailed lips upward in the same path her fingertips had walked moments early, finally pressing a kiss to his inner cheek.

Then a warm, heavy breath fell along his cleft, practically already wetting him with its steaminess, the promising heat of it making his cheeks and thighs tremble in involuntary jerks of parting and unparting to chase that ever building storm of sensation, rewarded with stray little kisses that made him gasp for air, and —

And fuck was she really going to put her mouth on him there? And while they were here? In the middle of — fuck, he couldn’t allow himself to even think about it, squeezed his eyes shut tight so that he didn’t even have to look at the reality of where he was as she finally closed the last bit of distance to press that warm, thick tongue against his hole directly.

An embarrassingly sharp gasp caused his chest to heave as she dragged the plush cushion of her tongue forward along his hole to just beneath his sac, let out as a choked groan as she flicked it back down to slide the slick underside along the same path.

“Fuck yes,” she craned back slightly to purr without slowing the pumping of her hand, plump bottom lip barely brushing against his hole now as she mumbled the words against his skin. “Don’t hold back any of those pretty noises for me, baby. I want you to let me hear just how good it feels. I want you to be so fuckin’ loud for me God himself can hear how good I make you feel.”

And fuck the wretched, wrecked cry he bleated out in response to that could be heard echoing all the way off of the high beam ceilings in offering, shame at himself and anger at her chased out with the white hot molten rush jolting through him from the massage of her tongue flush against his entrance and a harsh stroke of her hand to glide precum dewing at his tip down his full length, making everything on him slick with want.

She flexed that full, flattened tongue for a few more beats of luxurious giving, as if to make sure every little nerve sparked to life to greedily accept her generous pressure before she lightened it to more teasing force. And then finally slid tongue back until just its tip trailed along the outermost edge of the sensitive ring, slowing the stroke of her hand as she did.

“Fuck,” he cursed, slamming a fist down in frustration at the abrupt retreat. “Stop fucking teasing already,” he hissed, arching frantically, scooting forward so that his thighs now rested fully atop her shoulders, legs practically wrapping around her neck. (In the back of his mind he noted what an ironic reversal it was of the first position they’d ever found themselves in, but couldn’t bear to dwell on it, on the thought of anything but getting more more more.) “Q-Quit fucking around and just g-get me off if you’re going to do it.”

But he knew the moment she neglected to meet his outburst with usual scolding for being too demanding, instead bringing her free hand up to cradle his thigh without bothering to lift her head or retract teasing tongue to spit out a clever retort, that it was useless. He was condemned to lay back a helpless mess of pealing moans and restless squirming as that wet tip circled him, slowly but surely creeping in towards where his body begged most for attention.

And fuck, after more gasping breaths than he thought he could survive in waiting as she continued her cruel path, at least she was merciful enough when she did finally reach his opening, stiffening her tongue to not waste another second not lavishing him with its full attention and finally building back up the pace of the hand wrapped around him. She lapped and licked at his entrance relentlessly now, driving him into a whole other gear of needy frenzy.

Until finally she set a steady rhythm in flicking her tongue to poke just barely past the ring of delicate folds and tightly clenched muscles, a regular pace of tiny wet tip pumping along the rim, just deep enough to tease him with an echo of the sensation of getting truly and properly fucked.

God, it was somehow both too much, sending his nerves into overdrive, and also not enough, making him desperately wish there was by some miracle proper lube around so she could do more than just teasing laps, thrust those free fingers currently digging into his thighs deep inside him instead.

But alas, surely not. They were, after all, in the middle of a church, he reminded himself with a sick little thrill that traveled through him with a deep shudder.

His thighs quivered in their place rested atop her shoulders from the rush of it, only growing more needy and shaking from her hand brushing up and down to soothe the tremor, rewarding him in tandem with a tight squeeze of the hand pumping his length and a deep, gravelly moan hummed against his skin, vibrating through every hungry nerve ending, sparking all the way up his spine and making him clench and tighten.

His hand curled and clawed restlessly at the carpet of the altar as he bucked hips against her mouth to frantically chase the sensation, gripping for purchase, for anything to anchor himself as he strained and pushed against her flexing tongue. The hand caressing his leg wrapped around to pull it outward, spreading him out even more to give herself better access, then slid up his thigh up to reach for his desperately grasping fist instead, twining their fingers as her tongue increased its pace. Her mouth stayed too busy pressed flush against him to speak, but she gave another rising hum in encouragement, squeezing the hand she held as her thumb brushed up and down along his skin in the embrace.

And it was that gentle little stroke of her thumb against the side of his hand that truly drove him over the edge — the fact that fuck she was really touching him so tenderly, affectionately, while the tip of her tongue wriggled in his ass.

It was simply too much, made every part of him tremble, locking that sweet caressing hand in a shaking vice grip while his rim fluttered to cling to her flexing tongue and press it against every greedy nerve ending and his cock gave those final begging throbs in her hand.

And it just felt too easy, so safe to fall apart when she had him like this, to let that deep quaking consume him and finally allow everything to snap in pulsing release.

“Oh, fuck yes, I’m — god yes, I’m fucking there, yes, Jessie,” he stuttered out incoherently as he was flooded with it, last overwhelming blaze igniting along his skin as he thrashed in surrender to the power of those waves of absolute ecstasy, carried by them without a care for the senseless ways his body and mouth moved as warm spurts of release fell along his torso and hips. “Yes, oh god, Jessie, fuck yes, my Jessie, so good — love it, Jessie. My sweet Jessie, make me feel so — so so good.”

His babbling cries slowly faded with his climax, and he collapsed back against the altar, laboring to catch his breath, lungs amongst the parts of him still frantically contracting and struggling to relax as he came down, hand still entwined with hers, that sweet little stroke of her thumb staying steady, brushing along skin to soothe him even as her grip slackened and her hand unwound from around his softening length to massage around the base now tingling with gentle relief.

“God, just look at you,” she rasped, as hoarse and teasingly lilting as ever as she finally lifted her head from between his legs.

He threw an arm over his eyes in sudden impulse to hide in response to the remark, certain he must in fact look as absolutely ruined as he felt. Not to mention it occurred to him for the first time that this was the most exposed she’d ever seen him, in his position sprawled out with shirt unbuttoned and pants around his ankles as warm sunlight spilled through high arched windows to fall along every inch of naked skin.

And he was already bracing himself for more bitter mocking from her, furrowed brow already slanting downward in resentment as he tried to jumpstart hazy mind to begin brainstorming a retort for whatever she was sure to attack first — a barb about the location, certainly, but she’d probably throw in something about the scars, or how pathetic he looked with his legs still spread, or —

“No fuckin’ fair for you to get to look this beautiful,” she grunted just under her breath before leaning down again, slipping a hand under his back before pressing her mouth against him to once again brush tongue along skin, kissing away the release coating his stomach.

Every planned jab melted away with the soft warmth of lips trailing along his skin, so that all he could do was arch upward to meet her.

Fuck. Beautiful. He hadn’t even realized beautiful was something he could feel, only something he could be with enough meticulous preening. But there was nothing else to describe the warm glow that swelled in his chest as she kissed up it, finally settling with her nose nuzzled at his neck.

“Jessie,” he hummed, finally pulling aside the arm cast over his eyes to rest behind him to prop himself up to rise, fluttering eyelids open to meet the tawny eyes now hovering above him.

Beautiful. Fuck, she was so beautiful too, eyes twinkling particularly golden caught with magnified sunlight and framed with lightly smudged charcoal of eyeliner smeared by sweat, cheeks rosy from the warmth of the summer day and the heat and energy generated between them, lips still so puffy from pressure and glossy with lingering saliva that he simply couldn’t resist just how kissable they were, craning his neck that last bit of distance to press them softly against his.

He settled into that comfortable relief of afterglow he so rarely actually savored as she moved her mouth against his with that same uncharacteristic sluggish tenderness, pressing more weight into his right hand to extend his arm and lean further into her as his left reached to her waistband to begin working at undoing her belt buckle.

“John,” she gasped softly into the kiss, before pulling back, straightening to sit back on her shins between his legs, scooting away until her knees were at the edge of the altar, gently shepherding him along to follow from the supportive hand still cradled at the small of his back.

“My turn,” he sighed against the lips he’d barely parted from as they readjusted themselves, still barely separating now as he murmured words against them. “Want to hear you screaming my name like that now. Want to make you feel that good.”

But her warmth was gone before he could even slide leather through metal, strap slipping through his fingers instead as she hopped down from the platform with an awkward chuckle.

“I, uh — I’m good, that’s alright,” she laughed, tugging at her belt loops to readjust her jeans before smoothing at their front. “Pretty much got what I wanted already.”

Comfortable warmth curdled and boiled over into stinging bitterness heating his insides yet again. “You don’t want me to touch you?”

He bunched fists into silk to throw his shirt back over his chest and regain some semblance of dignity, jumping down into his wrinkled pants just the same as the possibilities raced through his mind. So what then, was she now repulsed by him? Or had she just wanted to humiliate him while she maintained her own innocence? Or did she simply —?

“John, please.” His runaway train of thought was derailed by her overly casual scoff. “I told you, I am an on duty professional. I’m not gonna sully the badge by trying to get my rocks off on the clock.”

His mind realigned itself to race again to conjure the most biting response he could to that. Perhaps that she’d already sullied the entire department the moment she set sinful foot into it. Or a threat laced remark about how he could already have her stripped of the badge for abusing it to coerce him into doing something so shameful when he was just trying to innocently report a crime. Or perhaps simply pointing out she clearly cared about the sanctity of the uniform about as much as she cared about the sanctity of his church, which was…

“Plus I gotta hurry on back if I expect to get this dumbass report filed in time to still make it to happy hour at the Spread Eagle.”

Righteous fury smoldered and fell, reigniting a more petty anger.

“So you’re agreeing to file the report now?” he questioned, regaining his prior authoritativeness with a rise in measured tone and steady march forward to follow her down the aisle towards the exit.

“Well, yeah,” she replied almost boredly, turning around one last time to lean against the doorway at a slanted angle with forearm propped against the frame, flashing him an equally crooked smile. “What can I say? I found your oral arguments on the subject very convincing,” she added with an infuriatingly smug wink. “Besides, not like I had a fucking choice anyways. Yeah, you’re probably makin’ the story up, but no fucking shit a church is protected by trespass laws.”

He drew a deep breath in, puffing his chest out further as he approached to loom over her. “So you knew the entire time that —”

“Oh, what?” she huffed, lifting her chin to blow a hot puff of air against his lips with the words without adjusting her posture to even their heights, making a theatrical show of being completely unintimidated. “Is that annoying?” she asked in an overly whiny tone, with a crinkle of her nose and an overly sweet cock of her head to the side with feigned innocence. “When someone digs their heels into a stance they know is legally fuckin’ baseless just for personal gain?”

He slammed a hand against the wall and bent at the waist himself to mimic her in propping himself there casually, craning his neck down to flaunt how much larger he was than her still. “I could see how that would be frustrating. Particularly if your opponent’s only goal in putting forth a bad faith position seems to be dragging out an argument that —”

“That could have ended a long time ago,” she finished for him with a sharp, exaggerated nod, finally straightening herself to stand and taking a step back in the greeting room, flashing a final smirk before turning. “And saved everyone a lot of hassle. Speaking of which,” she added with a parting wave of her hand, strolling towards the door to the outside this time. “Unless you have anything material to add, like I fuckin’ said, I’d like to still make happy hour.”

“By all means,” he boomed with a flourish of his arm towards the exit she was already passing through. “Although I’m sure you’re already aware that also happens to be the time I like to do public outreach, and by now I’m sure you’re also certainly aware —”

“That there’s nothing I can do to stop you,” she barked without turning around, continuing towards her car. “‘Cause it’s a public place in a free country, after all. But that’s the exact same goddamn reason I’m not gonna let you run me out of there, because I have just as much right to be there as —”

“As I do,” he cut her off, now standing in the open doorway, feeling sunlight against his cheeks directly this time. “And I won’t be run off either, just so you know.”

“Alright!” she called out to him in acknowledgement with a last toss back of her head as she swung her driver’s side door open.

“Alright!” he shouted back in agreement, making sure to hurry the word out loud enough to be heard before her door finally slammed shut and she cranked the engine.

And he swore he saw her mouth the syllables of ‘alright’ one last time in the rearview mirror, and if satisfying some childish urge to have the last word in the matter, if only to herself.

So he muttered the word under his breath himself one last time before balling his hand into a fist and swinging it to turn around and stomp back into the building, down the corridor then circling around off to the side to watch her drive away through one of the main hall windows, police cruiser slowly vanishing over the horizon.

And so, after all that had happened, he ultimately ended the encounter much the same way he began it: staring out the window, stroking his beard, plotting their next interaction in his head.

#nsft #ok edit to add to tags since yall found it anyways 🙄 #otp: stop bothering these nice folks #writies and wordies

[salemorbit]

I understand you are a student and also I’m a student too, take your time and don’t rushed it I be patient to make this tigo au ask. You make awesome for tigo au and hope you like it.

Mipha and Sidon teach tigo how to make armor for himself, link and s/o. Also tigo show the 4 champion improved very well from they training and maybe trying training s/o, since s/o is the target by yiga clan

-this may be the last one before the calamity start btw hope you like it

oh haha yeah student life is....well it's really something else right now 🥴 thank god for queuing posts, am i right??

but yes thank you! this tigo au is really growing! i'm kinda proud of it not gonna lie lmao

thank you for the request :)) here's more tigo!!

~~~~~~~

Little Lynel Man (part 5)

MASTERLIST

[Tigo the Lynel AU]

warnings: none!

~~~~~~~

The Zora are known for their great armor and defense, so it was no surprise when Tigo eventually learned how to create his own armor from their materials

Mipha instructed Tigo about how to construct his own armor, and of course Sidon wanted to help!

Mipha and Sidon also gave you and Link your own set of armor (even matching Tigo's armor awwww)

The gossip of such a greatly domesticated Lynel would certainly spread fast and far through Hyrule, and the Yiga Clan would definitely be in on conspiring about it

Having a domesticated Lynel as an ally??? That's such a good trick up their sleeve, they would think to themselves

Of course they didn't know how to do it themselves, so they targeted the only person who could seemingly do it at all: you!

You first learned of their intent to target you and get you to tame ALL the Lynels for the Yiga (which was obviously impossible and so exhausting) when you were on a stroll with Tigo and Link through Hyrule Field

The Yiga just appeared out of nowhere and started to attack, so Tigo and Link fended them off quickly as you tried your best to defend yourself

You definitely weren't helpless, but you also didn't have the professional training that the other two had

Link cornered a Yiga footsoldier and you questioned why they were attacking you

The footsoldier admitted to the plan and you let him off with a warning

But this raised tensions indefinitely

Link and Tigo were worried about you! They hated the idea of an entire rebellious group targeting you, and they definitely didn't want to find out that you were kidnapped one day while they were busy with Champion duties

So it was time for your professional training to begin!

Tigo was scheduled to meet with the other Champions anyway to show improvements in his training, and Link urged that you tag along so you could learn a thing or two

You all met in the Colosseum for a training session

The Champions were strong and you were worried that they would get frustrated teaching you with such little knowledge that you already had

But they didn't have a problem! You were with Link after all, so how helpless could you possibly be?

First you watched Tigo as he went to test his improvements over the past couple of weeks that he had on his own

The Champions paired up (Urbosa and Daruk, Revali and Mipha) and took turns sparring full force with Tigo

Naturally, Tigo won all of his matches! He had shown great improvement with his time away from the Champions

His defense techniques were nearly stronger than Daruk's, his archery skills rivaled Revali's, his ability to acclimate quickly to different terrain and agility were almost as good as Urbosa's, and his healing knowledge and spear skills were close to Mipha's in mastery

This Lynel was so well-rounded it was insane! He was incredibly strong

Your training was basic, but you caught on fast

Tigo helped with your training as best as he could, allowing you to win a couple of sparring matches to boost your ego (but he'd never show that it was on purpose lol)

As the days went on and you learned different techniques from your friends, honing your skills with Link and Tigo, you were soon greatly capable of defending yourself from the Yiga if they ever attacked you on your own!

Well done I'm so proud of you :)

Even sometimes, when you were out in the field, you would have to be the one to protect Tigo's blind spots or Link's weaker areas

You were a total badass, what can I say

And the Yiga soon knew that you were not a force to be reckoned with, especially if you had your trusty Lynel by your side!

~~~~~~

ah, gotta love some good ol' tigo :D

requests are welcome!

#breath of the wild #legend of zelda #botw x reader #link x reader #x reader #link #lynel #botw #loz #botw loz #loz fic #botw fic #loz fanfic #botw fanfic #loz fanfiction #botw fanfiction #tigo au #botw au #request #thebattlecats2001 #breath of the wild fic #legend of zelda fic

[iceywrites]

Just something self indulgent. Queuing this to be posted on my birthday.

---

Ash sighed and took a sip of the champagne in his hand. It was all so tiring. The same old ball organized to show their extravagance.

It was all because of his unwanted Royalty stature. But then again, he wasn't born in that family. Dino burned down his house and adopted him as his child. There were only a handful who knew the lie of their father - son relationship.

Every night, every day was the same charade and Ash was tired of it.

He was tired of people bowing down to him and greeting him as 'Prince Aslan'. He was tired of holding his shoulders back, walking like he was superior to everyone he looked at. He was tired of getting induced with hate every night and pretending, the very next day, that he didn't just sleep with his father. He was tired.

He dropped this glass to a butler who was passing by.

Across the gigantic room stood the Prince Yut Lung, half of his face covered with a feathered mask. From all the people who were attending the masquerade, he could easily make out the prince of the neighboring nation.

Prince Yut Lung was the youngest Lee and Ash knew that he was the most desperate to get the throne. But he wasn't sure what he would do after he was crowned. Loathing, only took you so far.

Maybe in a different world or a different time, Ash would have some sympathy for the prince but for now he couldn't feel beyond the sense of insecurity he felt for his nation when he looked at him.

Yut Lung looked at him and with a smirk, raised his glass. Ash nodded his acknowledgment.

"You don't look much for dancing." A voice from behind him called.

Ash fixed his smile and turned around. "Whoever said-" His voice was lost into an abyss when he looked at the owner of the voice. Or more specifically his eyes.

They were the most brown eyes he had ever seen. It was as if they had a gravity of their own, pulling him into them.

Ash coughed to break the trance. "Did you not find a partner worthy of a dance with you, sir?" Ash asked in a polite curiosity.

"I danced with many; all of them equally worthy in their dance. But they just didn't happen to be the one for me." He bowed and introduced himself. "I am the son of the Baron of Izumo. Okumura Eiji."

He returned the bow, exchanging a greeting. Ash didn't provide his name; he didn't want Eiji's knees to touch the ground as he sung praises about the future King.

"You look like a separate entity every breath you take here, tell me, would you prefer to be any place else?" Eiji asked with a charming smile that had a hypnotic effect on Ash.

"I have my responsibilities here. I cannot-"

"Come now, you deserve to be at a place with a real celebration. Where people didn't wear ten masks beneath their assorted ones."

Heaven knew Ash wanted to leave that place. He looked at Dino, who stood at the end of the room, laughing and drinking. His celebration would be continued with Ash later in his room.

Before Ash could supply a pleading rejection, Eiji suggested: "Ask your bodyguard to tell the King, if he asks, that you're taking a stroll of the kingdom. I'll be waiting for you by the stables." With that, Eiji left.

Ash could decline the offer. But he would be lying if he didn't want to leave that suffocating and nauseating place that only ever wanted from him.

He relayed the message of his departure to Alex, asking him to take care of the situation.

Eiji, as promised was waiting beside his horse. He had taken off his golden mask as well. In the soft glow of the moonlight, he looked like an ethereal God.

Eiji assisted him in mounting the horse. Ash's back collided with Eiji's chest as the horse trotted to the mysterious destination. Ash's hand was on his dagger all the while and if Eiji noticed it, he only chuckled and pretended it wasn't happening.

Something about Eiji made him want to lose all defences; to let go and not care of the consequence.

When they reached a rowdy inn, Eiji got down from the horse and helped Ash do the same. Ash looked at the place questionably while Eiji made a grandeur gesture and called the place "Chang Dai." He pulled Ash by the hand and took him inside.

Chang Dai was bright and young, filled with colors and music that Ash had neither seen nor heard.

Eiji slowly took off his rings and gloves placing them in a bowl asking for his mask. When Ash showed hesitation, Eiji laughed and said, "No need to worry, my Prince."

"Have you always known?"

"Why, yes." Eiji eased out his mask and everyone momentarily stopped as if to acknowledge his presence, then carried on as if it didn't matter. "I could recognise you among thousands."

"How so?"

"You ask the question to yourself. Until then, care for a dance, Ash?" It was the first time Eiji said his name and it made him warm on the inside.

He dragged him to the cheerful people who all danced to the same song, not showing any difference to the art.

In next few hours, Ash had also manage to remove his coat. He skipped, twirled and looped about, clapping his hands to the beat. Ash had never laughed as much when Eiji picked him up in the spur of the moment and twirled him around.

Ash filled his lungs with the air of that place and Eiji for he knew he probably wouldn't get another chance to do so.

Keeping his promise, Eiji carried him back with all his jewellery and assortments to his palace.

"I had a pleasurable evening, Eiji." Ash said as he handed one of his rings to Eiji.

Eiji smiled and shook his head. "I don't need your riches, Ash. I'm content with only you."

"Will we ever meet again?"

"You ask for me and I shall present myself in your court. And later, if you feel rebellious, he could go to Chang Dai."

Ash chuckled which was soon replaced by a sad smile. Parting with Eiji felt like a blunt knife was trusted into him again and again.

"I don't wish to part ways with you."

"I believe that fate didn't want our paths to collide for one night. We will meet again, my Ash." The endearment would have been enough to draw tears out of Ash had he not practiced to keep himself composed at all times.

Eiji took his hand and placed a chaste kiss on the back side of it as a promise.

Ash headed towards the palace, only to come back and kiss Eiji on his cheek, leaving him dumbfounded.

For one night, Ash forgot about all his attributes. He was a body not used for pleasure but for love which he was capable of returning.

For one night, he was just Ash.

#shoulf i post this on ao3? #banana fish #ash lynx #eiji okumura

[lorem-text]

Good evening, Night Owls.

This is an unofficial PSA. 

Loki is missing. She went out on her nightly stroll like usual but she hasn’t returned yet. I have queued tonight’s article to be posted on time, but I am leaving the office to find her so I won’t be here to make sure it has been posted properly. Apologies in advance, but I can’t leave her alone out there. 

I have updated the information page with my personal phone number, so please contact me if you see her.

I will keep you updated.

~Eliot

#vtm rp #eliot wilde #Night Owl #Loki the cat #psa

[asterinjapan]

Back in time

Good evening, this time from the train from Osaka to Okayama! It's a little past 8:30 pm now, and since I'll have to get up early tomorrow for my trip to Tokyo, I'll be typing most of today's report on my phone. Just a heads up in case you spot any weird typoes, haha.

Anyway! Today was indeed a busy day, although very much fun in a lot of senses. You see, today I was meeting up with a friend to go to Universal Studios Japan, and then to a concert by KOKIA, my absolute favourite artist. So that's 3 great things in one sentence already, haha.

I'll be splitting the report so that one half just concerns the concert, because I tend to do very detailed reports on those. Seeing KOKIA live is such a treat, I don't want to forget a single detail! So below follows the report on the rest of the day.

I had to get up early to catch my train, so of course I woke up wayyyy to early at 4 am, pff. I went right back to sleep and woke up a little before my 6 am alarm, which was still too early, because breakfast starts at 6:30, haha. Oh well, plenty of time to get dressed in peace!

After breakfast, I made my way to the station to catch the shinkansen to Shin-Osaka station. The train goes past Himeji, though sadly I wasn't in a good position to take a picture of the castle. I did however notice that you can see Okayama castle from the train as well, be it from quite the distance. The views weren't really superb today, which was to be expected, since there was rain forecasted for pretty much the entire country. Oh well, not much I can do about that but take an umbrella, haha.

The trip was smooth and I met up with my friend at the station. We were going to Osaka station from here, a mere 5 minute ride, but it was quite tricky to even make it through the shinkansen gates. It was really busy for some reason, though they had just announced a train further south had stopped running due to heavy rains. Uh oh... but so far so good in Osaka, no rain yet and we eventually made it to Osaka station and from there, 2 quick trains bound for Universal Studios Japan!

We first caught up a little over drinks, with matcha latte for me of course, before we made it to the park entrance and got tickets. Since it was a Saturday I suspected it would be busy and we'd need to draw a number for the Harry Potter part of the park, but apparently the weather forecast worked in our favour, because there were no numbers needed to enter today. Yaaay! I went to Universal 4 years ago as well and mostly spent my day in the Harry Potter part, haha, so I wasn't complaining about starting here. Actually, this part of the park only has two rides proper and they're both a bit wild for us, but just looking around here is an attraction in itself. I got all nostalgic over the music and the scenes, and after shop browsing for a while and having our picture taken in front of the Hogwarts Express, we went into the wand shop to experience some magic happening as a random audience member was picked to be chosen by a wand. Sadly this wasn't me, haha, although I have a great wand at home I bought here last time. It was a fun little show (this time Ollivander spoke both very good English and Japanese, haha), after which we ended up in the wand shop, but we passed through it in favour of the castle.

You can go into Hogwarts castle for a pretty intense adventure (I did it back in 2015, my stomach wasn't very happy), or you can choose to take a stroll inside and look up on awe at all the amazing detail they put on here, haha. We opted for the latter, and I definitely made use of the invitation to take pictures by going wild with my current camera. Much better quality! Ah, I love this camera so. The castle has a ton of talking and moving paintings as well as some projections and a ton of replicas from the movies. Aside maybe from the last bit, where we first had to wait for a while for unknown reasons and then were rushed through, it was really great.

Once outside, we spotted some performers coming out dressed like the students from the wizarding schools Beauxbatons and Durmstrang from the fourth book/movie, so we stayed to watch. I think i read somewhere that this was a limited time show, and they were really good, very athletic. (I'm personally not a big fan of the movie approach of "the French students are only girls who dance pretty dainty ballet and the vaguely Russian students are only manly guys who grunt and stomp with sticks", but hey, that says nothing about the performers here! And the costumes were lovely. )

After some more shop browsing, we were in for a surprise once we were outside: the sun was shining bright! Absolutely not according to the forecasts, absolutely not complaining, haha. I took some very pretty pictures of the castle if I do say so myself, and then we went for lunch here. The salad served at the Three Broomsticks was pretty big, plenty enough to share. After this and of course some butterbeer (non-alcoholic), we left the wizarding world behind us and moved into the rest of the park.

This mostly ended in sightseeing, since the rows were too long to consider queuing up with the concert time getting closer, but that was a lot of fun too. They put in so much detail, and since it is almost Halloween, a lot of people had come dressed up.They do in the Disney parks too, but Disney has pretty strict rules about which characters you're allowed to dress up as, while here it seems to be "anything goes". I saw a guy dressed up as a piece of corn, quite some elaborate costume dress ups, a surprising amount of guys in Sailor Moon outfits, a lot of fancy gothic dress up, and a surprising number of uh, nuns. Alright! And of course, there was the usual mix with outfits from the Harry Potter part and uh, Minions. They have their own spot here.

We also went into the Jurassic park area, which was closed for maintenance last time, although sadly we didn't see a lot of dinosaurs roaming around. There was a scarily realistic Velociraptor animatronic inside the gift shop though! (I think it might have been Blue? Look, I only saw Jurassic World once.) But well, I still love dinosaurs, so this was still cool, haha.

Once we were getting closer to the time of the concert, we went back to the station to catch the train to Osaka station. Luckily the concert venue was very close and actually within the same building in which they have the big Broadway musicals here, currently the little mermaid. It was the lion king last time I went here and got lost at Osaka station, haha. (That station is like 5 different stations all connected, so it's a bit of a maze.) We got seated, got ourselves a drink (it's kinda like a jazz bar here, so you sit at a table and you can order food and drinks), made a quick trip to the merchandise shop, and then sat back to enjoy the performance.

I'll save those details for my next post, haha, but rest assured I had a great time. KOKIA had two performances tonight, so it was a little shorter than a big hall concert, but she did make time for an autograph session! Naturally we queued up with our newly purchased albums, haha.

Ah, such a good time! It was around dinner time now, so my friend introduced me to akashiyaki, which is "sort of takoyaki, except not", haha. Akashi is a city in the nearby Hyogo prefecture, and these are dumplings made of egg rich batter and octopus you need to dump into thin fish broth before eating (thank you, wikipedia). Although takoyaki, also balls with octopus, is more popular and better known, akashiyaki apparently came first. It was really yummy! We shared akashiyaki and then had a takoyaki gratin, which sounded kinda odd, but ended up being delicious as well. We eventually had some desserts at a nearby tea shop that sold SO MANY matcha things, I nearly had a crisis deciding until I opted for the matcha roll cake, incidentally the best roll cake I've ever had.

It was time to part ways with the promise of reunion, and I made it to Shin-Osaka alone. Familiar territory after last year, haha. I caught a shinkansen for Okayama and I have just arrived in my hotel safe and sound, very tired but very pleased.

Tomorrow will be tiring without a doubt, as I'll be in a train for 4.5 hours straight (I did this to myself, I know). But then I'll be in Ikebukuro, Tokyo, my home away from home at this point, haha. I guess I'll ditch my things at the hotel and then rush to Shibuya for my favourite little shrine there, because I must owe some deity something for how lucky I've been so far. Did I mention it was dry the whole time we were outside? Yeah.

I love Tokyo, so I'm very excited about going back there, but it also means saying goodbye to Okayama and entering my last week already. Time really flies, huh...

Well, stay tuned for pictures and the concert review while I go pack my suitcase (the title will make sense after that review, haha, although Harry Potter and dinosaurs are both things I grew up with) and then see you tomorrow from Tokyo!

#report #japan 2019 #report: japan 2019 #places: universal studios

[stevieang]

May I Have This Dance? 2/?

Chapter 1

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston RPF x Plus-Size Reader Insert

Word Count: 2200

Warnings: If too much sweet fluffiness isn’t your thing, then keep on going.  This is full-on no-holds-barred fluff.

Tags:   @3dsaunt​  @andiyholly​  @averyrogers83​  @babybluesunsets​ @bettercallsabs​ @brittyevans​  @brookebarnes​ @captain-rogers-beard​ @cecygee​​   @csrfavs​​   @docharleythegeekqueen​​  @dorito-distractions​​  @everythingisoverrated​​  @fabicchi​​  @favhearts​​  @flawless-disaster​​  @gifsbysimplysonia​​ @hazeleyedgirl7​​   @hennessy0274-blog​​ @inumorph​​ @jaguars2007​​  @jaamesbbarnes​​ @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety​​  @janeyboo​​ @joshburtonhellzyess​  @jouhainak​​ @learisa​​ @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​​ @lilylovescomics​​   @lojo83​​   @lookwhatyoumademequeue​​  @lostinspace33​​  @madicardi​​  @magellan-88​​   @mamapeterson​​   @me-a-hopeless-romantic​​  @meyoko10​​  @mindingmyownbusiness​​ @mizzzpink​​ @neverleturheartshow2​​  @nomadicpixel​​  @part-time-patronus​​ @patzammit​​ @pinkieandthebrain1​​ @redqueen1221​​ @sebbytrash​​  @sgtjbuccky​​  @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​​  @stark-spangled-banner-man​​  @st-eve-barnes​​ @stillherebiandabitch​​ @sunriserose1023​​ @suz-123​​ @the-real-kellymonster​​    @tutis24​​ @winterismyfavoriteseason1945​​  @winters-beauty​​ @yaykitty3​​

Summary: Two of your best friends are getting married and you have the honor of singing at their wedding.  At the reception you’re approached by a famous friend of the groom, Tom Hiddleston.  Much polite flirting ensues.  Will there be more to come?  (That’s not a rhetorical question, I’m honestly asking for your input about whether I should write more.)

A/N: Thank you all for the wonderful responses, reblogs, and likes on this, my first RPF! I am always stunned at how wonderfully supportive this community can be, and it makes my day better each and every time I get one of those notifications.  Here’s a second chapter and I have a third planned.  We’ll see how folks feel about it, if it’s worth continuing.  Thanks again!!!!! Happy V-Day!!!!!!!

Chapter 2

**All Italicized dialogue indicates characters are communicating using American Sign Language**

When you turned over and saw the sun peeking around the edges of the hotel curtains, you reached out lazily for your phone and yelped when you saw the time.  It was 3 o’clock in the afternoon, and you were just waking up.  You hadn’t slept that late since...well...ever.  You quickly did your “morning” stroll through the land of social media and after eating a protein bar you stashed in your suitcase and drinking a large bottle of SmartWater, set up on your balcony with a book and your music.  Life was very good.

Around the same time on the top floor of the hotel, Tom awoke to several messages from his team - his agent, manager, director of his next project - all wanting to check in with him and ask when he planned to return to work.  After letting them know he’d be in D.C. for a few days and that he was relatively unscathed, his thoughts turned to you.  Though it was your voice that grabbed him - honey and whiskey with a touch of bright sweetness - it was your easy smile and raucous, unrestrained joy that pulled him closer.  When you danced and he saw how comfortable you were in your life, in your circle of friends, in your body, his feelings shifted from interested to intrigued.

To be honest, he’d become quite accustomed to women throwing themselves at him, or, at the very least, not making it difficult to get to know them better.  You immediately stood out with your gentle stubbornness, obvious kindness and undeniable intelligence.  It was a potent combination that made him eager to learn more, though he surprised himself when he honestly could not say whether you were as interested as he was.  No time like the present to test the waters.

TWH: Good afternoon.  Sleep well?

Nothing.  No conversation bubble, no “read” receipt, no response.  

Nothing.  You were surprised Tom hadn’t been in touch after last night.  You had tried very hard in recent years to enjoy each moment as it came, to live in the present, rather than pissing it away by focusing on the future.  You were disappointed, no doubt, but figured it was a time and experience you’d always hold close to your heart.  It had been awhile since you’d felt a connection with anyone, and to think it was with someone as kind and gentlemanly as Tom? Well, that was icing on the cake.  (Not to mention that he was shockingly handsome, funny, and intense).

You showered with the intention of washing off the cobwebs and went out in search of dinner.  D.C. had many amazing restaurants, but you were only interested in one thing - pizza.  With your wallet and phone safely tucked away, you headed down to the lobby to find your idea of oooey, gooey, cheesy, heaven.  You confirmed the address with the concierge and were almost out the door when you saw Tom standing out on the sidewalk, talking and laughing with a stunning woman with black hair, a figure worthy of Vogue, and 6-inch heels.  You ignored your instinct to hang back, to avoid being seen, but there was no need.  He saw you and smiled, excused himself, and walked over, kissing your cheek.  His companion kept her focus on her phone, so you quickly filled him in on your current mission for pizza and started for the door.

“You don’t have to rush off, we’ve got a few minutes.” He glanced sideways at his date and reached out for your fingertips, playing with then as if they were piano keys. That started all kinds of unexpected conflicted feelings and you suddenly found something shiny to pick up on the ground, allowing you to step just out of his reach. He noticed.

“I tried texting you this morning, but when I didn’t hear back I wondered, again, if I’d done something that upset you.”  His arms were crossed across his chest and his upper body leaned forward.  It was casually done but felt intentional, powerful.  You felt important.  After assuring him he hadn’t and showing him that you hadn’t received any messages you quickly determined that he had transposed two numbers when he entered your info into his phone.  You laughed thinking about whomever received a message from him and if they had any clue of their unintentional brush with celebrity.  

His companion quietly made her way over, looping her arm through his and lazily laying her hand on his bicep.  She smiled and whispered, making a small smile appear as he patted her hand and bid you goodnight with a small bow.  You smiled and walked away, intent on yummy sustenance.  Little did you know Tom’s eyes followed you until he ducked into the waiting car.

You were in search of heaven and you found it.  The same pizza place you frequented in grad school was still in business and walking in was like stepping into a time warp.  You were hit with a wave of memories some bright and happy, others sadly nostalgic.  Pushing the past aside, you stepped forward and ordered.  As you waited, you took some pictures and posted them, tagging your grad school friends that you’d be seeing the next night.  You decided to Uber home (for the sake of the pizza) and you were soon ensconced in your room, pizza and new teenage rom-com queued up.  You glanced over when your text alert sounded, fully expecting responses to your Instagram posts.  Nope.

TWH: Was your quest successful, m’lady?

You: Yes, kind sir, thank you.  How’s dinner?

TWH: Delicious, but my mind’s elsewhere, to be honest.

You: Your poor date! She doesn’t deserve anything less than your full attention.  I’m disappointed. :(

TWH: My date?? You mean Laura? We’re not on a date.

You: Oh, ok.  Sorry to make an assumption, but you were standing next to a ravishingly beautiful woman, both dressed up, and you left together in the same car. Hmmmmm….wonder why I thought that? LOL

TWH: I can see why you did.  I’m sorry I didn’t disavow you of the idea, but Laura is the producer of an upcoming film and we were meeting the backers tonight.  It’s work, that’s all.  Money talk.

You: Well, at least you’re getting a nice night out with hopefully nice people.

TWH: Yes, that I am.  They want to go out to a bar for drinks, but I’m thinking of begging off.

You: You ok?

TWH: Yes, but as I said, my mind is elsewhere and I think I’ve successfully done what was asked of me.  I believe I’ll be able to exit gracefully without repercussion.

You: Ok, well, as long as you’re alright.  I’ll let you be so you can extricate yourself and enjoy the rest of the evening.

You smiled and pressed send.  Before you could start the movie, there was a text alert immediately followed by a knock at the door.  

TWH: I’m extricated and I hope to, thanks.

Your look through the peephole had you chuckling as you quickly opened the door and smiled.

Tom’s suit jacket was open, his hands clasped behind his back. “I told you my mind was elsewhere.”

“I didn’t think that meant here, but I’m happy it did.”  He smiled brilliantly at your response.

“Since you mentioned pizza and movies, I’ve been preoccupied with both.  I don’t mean to put you on the spot, but could I join you?  I come bearing gifts.”  He brought his hands from behind his back, one holding a very good bottle of wine and the other holding a tub of chocolate ice cream with caramel and chocolate.  You almost jumped him then and there.

After ushering him in, freezing the ice cream, pouring the wine, and offering him his choice of seat and slices, you started “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before,” the new movie that transported you back to the days of Sixteen Candles and Jake Ryan, your first movie crush.

You had seen it a few times before (ok, 15.  Ok, ok maybe more than that when you fast forwarded to the smooshy parts), so you were glad to show off when you answered Tom’s questions.  The script was based on the best-selling YA novel of the same name, the lead actors were new-ish with crazy chemistry, and it had been such a success that Netflix had already ordered a second installment.  Tom’s laugh prompted you to turn to him with an “are you making fun of me?” look on your face, which started him roaring.

“You are adorable.  You are so invested in this story, it’s infectious.”  You pushed his shoulder as you turned red.

“I’m not making fun, darling, I guess I’m just jaded.  I’ve forgotten what it’s like to see a movie through the eyes of someone looking at the finished product rather than the million moving parts that go into making it.  It’s beautiful.”  

He grabbed your hand, both of you looking down as he intertwined his fingers with yours and spoke so quietly you wouldn’t have heard him if you weren’t side by side.  “You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you, Tom.”  His other hand had come round and was softly placed on your thigh.

“Is this ok?” was barely audible, but you nodded.  As you covered his other hand with yours, your laptop screen lit up, making you drop his hand, bounce off the couch, and shriek with happiness.  You ran over to accept the Video Relay Call from your one of your grad school roommates, Jason.

Tom was sure you wanted to kiss him as much as he wanted to kiss you, but instead, he was sitting alone, dumbfounded.  You were staring at the laptop, clearly engaged in a hilarious conversation with the person on the other end, in sign language.  He stood up and walked next to you, watching you use a variety of facial expressions, both obvious and subtle, that would make many actors jealous.  He wished he understood.

You were so engrossed in the conversation that you barely noticed Tom sitting near you, watching you, with zero clue of what you were talking about.  You didn’t feel right about that.

You: J, hold on a sec, I have someone over and he doesn’t sign.  Let me catch him up.  

Jason: “Someone?” Who is this someone? Do I know him? Go ahead, I’ll wait.

When you pulled yourself away from Jason, it was surreal to see Tom quietly staring, as if he was studying you.  

You were struck by the uniqueness of the moment and threw your head back with laughter.  “I’m sorry, Tom.  I remember what it was like when I first started signing - I would watch fluent users for hours but have no clue what they were talking about, but didn’t really care because it was so beautiful, so graceful.  This is Jason, he was one of my roommates in grad school at Gallaudet University, here in D.C.  We’re getting together tomorrow night to see a play on campus.”

Tom took a deep breath in and blew an equally long one out while he took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose.  “You were transformed….so expressive, so energetic.”  After looking at your face, he quickly added, “Not that you aren’t those things usually, but….”

You jumped in to save him from himself.  “You’re absolutely right.  When hearing people communicate, we rely on our tone of voice and the way we combine words, to convey the strength of our emotion.  In ASL, that responsibility is transferred to the body - facial expressions and body language are grammatical markers and necessary to communicate fluently.”  You turned your head back to the screen as your peripheral vision caught Jason waving for your attention.  

You: Sorry J, I was just going down the Intro to ASL road….I should introduce the two of you, you do it way better than me.

Jason: Hey, any friend of yours….why don’t you bring him to the show tomorrow night.  There are plenty of tickets and I need to do my male roommate duty of vetting potential suitors.

You: Who says he’s a potential suitor?

Jason: Your blushing, smiling face every time you even mention him.  What’s his name by the way?

“He’s asking about you and wondering if you want to come to the play tomorrow night.  I think he really just wants to embarass me.”  Because you were signing and speaking at the same time, Jason jumped up with a “YES” so loudly that it clearly took Tom by surprise, as it did most people.

“Do you want me to come? I don’t want to intrude on a night with your…..friend?” His eyebrows were raised expectantly, hoping the reality was something different.

“J says there will be voice interpreting, so you’ll wear a pair of headphones and hear everything the actors are signing.  I think you’d love it, if for no other reason than seeing a type of acting you’ve never experienced.  It’s unforgettable.  Please come.”  He nodded and you finished up the call after finalizing the details for meeting up the next night.

Non-stop yawning commenced as soon as you sat back on the couch, and Tom excused himself for the night.  As he kissed your cheek and slowly pulled back to look at you, you wished your body chose another time to yawn so big you felt like you dislocated your jaw.  You both chuckled and wished each other a good night, with promises to get in touch late morning.  

“I’ll call you with the details, if that’s alright?”

His smile made you think of the Cheshire Cat.  “Of course it’s alright.  You have my number.”

Chapter 3

#stevieang #may i have this dance #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston rpf #fluff #so far #plus-size reader #chapter 2

[abyssmal-writings]

The Thing Near the Tracks

I work a part time job for the city of Houston as a porter. My work schedule starts in the evening and ends in the early hours of the morning. I'm picked up by my boss and crew from home. In the truck it's usually four of us going out to work, sometimes three if someone calls out or quits. We drive through out Houston and clean up centers owned by the individual or company that has hired us for our services. The job consists of picking up litter, sweeping stair cases, and using a leaf blower to blow, well, leaves and pine needles into piles to pick up. The job's pay is shit and the work is unbearably boring. But what can you do when you have no vehicle to help you have that better paying job? I'm not here to complain about my situation though. You see, last week something very strange happened. I'm still coming to grips with the whole thing. It feels like, a really bad dream except there's no waking up from it. No matter how badly I want to I can not deny what I saw. I'm hoping that doing this, posting what I've experienced will help me cope with the insanity that is slowly taking over my mind. Alright, here goes nothing.

It was a Tuesday night, and we arrived at our third center in Greenspoint area off 45. I believe the company was Tellepsen, or perhaps it was near their facility. Without getting into the boring details, we did our job. Picked the place clean of litter and checked the parameter for anything else to toss away or clean. On the opposite side of the building there was an abandon train track. All that was left of the tracks were the rails, it's tiles removed or some cracked from age. One thing I forgot to mention, I'm the only male on my crew, so for anyone who is aware of greenspoint area and what it is like, you'd understand when I say that I was usually the one to go off into the darker areas to clean or check to make sure we didn't miss anything. So I was the one to cross those tracks to the back of the building to go clean and make sure nothing else was amiss. Now, I'm not exactly a brave individual but I do this to help speed up the process for us to quickly leave the center so we can move on to the next one and hopefully end the nights shift early. I don't let the area I work in bother me at all and I tend to be ignorant of the danger I put myself in by being alone while I work. Stupid, I know. As I was strolling down the tracks pointing my flash light this way and that way to be sure all was done, I noticed what seemed to be a fresh puddle next to a big container. Seeing this both confused me and intrigued my curiosity because it did not rain the previous day or the day before either. I looked behind me and saw my co-workers at a distance finishing up their little area of the center, just to be sure I was in their sight in case anything happened. I approached the puddle and turned off my flash light as I got closer since there was a source of light on a building adjacent to the container. As I got closer I saw that it was no puddle of water but what looked like a fresh spill of black paint or tar in a perfect circle. I don't know why I was drawn to it, but as I looked closer the black spill shimmered in the light that was available. I pulled out my pocket knife and used it like a shovel to scoop up some of it up. Surprisingly, the black substance didn't slowly drip or slide off the blade. Its touch as well felt sort of gooey, it reminded me of blood when it clots up from an open cut. I heard the work trucks engine come to life in the distance, queuing me that we're heading out to our next center. As I'm getting up I immidiately smell something so fucking putrid it made me gag. I have a weak stomach to bad smells, so it took me a moment to regain my composure.

"H-help me. It hurts.. It huurts." Said a voice behind me. I quickly turned and saw an aged man dressed in ragged clothes. His face was twisted in a state of agonizing pain, the same black substance that was on the ground was stained below his lips and on his chin. He was gripping at his stomach and using his other hand that was covered with blood and more of that black shit to reach out to me.

"Help, help me! I'm in so much pain. My insides, they're t-tearing apart!", the man cried out.

Now at this point, I was frozen in place. I'm not ashamed to admit that I was chilled to the bone by the man before me. So many red flags were popping up in my vision. A voice in my head shouted "Run you idiot!" But instead I stood there dumbfounded and unsure of what to do. My boss pulled up behind me in the truck, its headlights putting us in a spotlight. I noticed the man's eyes were bloodshot red and tears were streaming down his face.

"Martha!" I called out to my boss. "Call 911, get a paramedic!" I meant to say this with courage in my tone, but it came out more hesitant and cracked like a young school child. I was frightened. Something didn't feel right and there were plenty of signs showing that none of what was happening was in anyway normal.

"Holy shit.. Quick, Jessica is on the other side of the building. Go and get her now as I help this man." Martha said. Martha's an older woman, but she doesn't let that stop her from defending herself from anything or anyone and is capable to flee if need be. I trusted she'd be alright, so I ran off to go and get my co-worker. I didn't have to go far. As soon as I crossed the tracks she was already coming around the corner of the building to us.

"Woah hey, what's the rush? Is everything okay?" She asked me. I just shook my head and motioned for her to come to the truck. When I turned back around I saw that the man and Martha were no longer in sight. Before I could even think of anything else, I heard her let out a blood curdling scream that made my heart stop. Jessica and I ran in the direction of the scream that was just on the other side of the truck. We went around the front end of it and saw Martha and the man. Martha was on the ground, hands keeping herself up and widespread panic on her face. The man was between her and us, his back facing me. He was groaning in pain, but.. His voice.. The sound of it seemed as if there were two voices in one. I can't explain it, but it wasn't his normal voice. He must have sensed our presence behind him, cause he began to slowly turn around and face us.

Fuck man.. His stomach was torn open and these.. These appendages were wriggling out of him. Instead of blood it was the same black shit I saw on the ground earlier that oozed out of his stomach. I saw his face.. My god his face. Twisted in pain, terror, confusion. As if to say with his expression "Why is this happening?" He let out one last groan. And I say this not because he then died, but more appendages came out of his mouth. Opening it beyond human possibility. All the while, the man moaned and groaned, still alive through it all. His eyes now widened to the monstrosity he has become.

"Get away from it! Run!" Martha screamed. The man, the.. The thing turned to her and slowly began to make its way towards her. His movements like that of someone carrying something heavy or.. In excruciating pain. One foot lifting, the other dragging behind with each step. Jessica took this moment and ran to the truck, jumping into the driver seat and putting it in reverse. She backed it up close enough for Martha to get up and jump in the passenger seat. She then cut the wheel to the left and reversed, turning the truck around towards me. All the while my gaze was upon the thing that just a few minutes ago was a poor homeless man. During the daring escape and saving our necks, the thing turned its attention to me and just looked at me. I could hear it breathing, no, wheezing. Though I'm not certain how given that the appendages were wriggling out of it's mouth. Before anything else could happen Jessica backed the truck up between us and without hesitation I jumped into the bed of it and she hauled ass put of the center. I looked back as we drove away and saw the thing look at us as we escaped. An ungodly scream came from it. Sound of both monster and what once was a man. I kept looking at it as we drove further away until we turned a corner and the thing was no longer in site. I still didn't feel safe. My heart was racing, eyes wide in fear. At that moment and even now I could not believe what just took place. That eerie scream still haunts me. We never went back to that center. Martha checks it off on our list as if we did it each time a day comes for our scheduled route towards greenspoint. I haven't gone back to work in three days. I still feel its presence, as if it knows where I am. Martha called me yesterday to check on me. I could tell she was still shocked by the event. She told me she's taking a vacation. Her and her husband are going out of town. I hope that helps her. I wish I could do the same, escape from my home and never look back. You see, the thing is that yesterday I walked the dog in my apartment complex. As we passed up a dumpster he began to whimper and growl at something on the other side of it. As I said, I'm not brave, but I do the things I do cause they must be done. That, and curiosity always gets the better of me. I went to the other side of the dumpster to see what bothered my dog. My heart sank as I saw it and dread filled my mind. On the concrete next to the dumpster, was a puddle of that black substance. Now.. Now I don't feel safe at my own home.

[schmidtsource]

Cause for Optimism

We’re at another one of those crossroads where the tone of this month’s post could flip on a dime depending on when I draft it, but I think kicking it off today could make for a fantastic setup when I sit down in June and look back, so sharing my thoughts today seems okay. Now with that out of the way, let’s talk about May! This month has been… a lot. I managed to lock down a good vaccination date after a few hours of calling pharmacies and refreshing a booking calendar in the most stressful lottery of my life, and my phone broke while I frantically tried to put my mask back on when bare-faced folks strolled into my jogging space. I don’t think I really need to paint much of a picture to illustrate how losing a means of communication while enduring over a hundred and forty consecutive days of isolation is brutal, and the anxiety leading up to my first dose that should quell a lot of my pandemic fears is pretty powerful here on the homestretch, but I have a new phone ordered and that first dose will be in my veins before long. It’s funny to think this time last month, I wouldn’t have anticipated I’d be queued up for a vaccine before September. The timeline still sort of lines up with what I expected, though. The wait between doses is more extreme than I hoped with a whopping four months between them, but I’ll still be in the clear come October: pending any mutations that render their efficacy moot. The thought of my isolation coming to a close is a mixed bag of emotions that’s challenging to sort, but I’m optimistic the pros outweigh the cons if not only for the company I’ll be able to experience again. Insurance has run its course for my physio sessions at an underwhelming cap, and pairing that with the fact I’ve lifted a heavy weight off my shoulders this month that’s left me in a pretty precarious position, I’ll be putting a hold on calls for the next few weeks or months while I build myself back up. That being said, putting a pin in my sessions isn’t a detrimental sacrifice. My physiotherapist and I came up with a game plan to keep me going during that “break”, so it’ll be more-or-less business as usual without a hit to the budget. I’m pleased to report that those physio sessions have actually been doing me well, too. We isolated my leg issue as a nerve injury, and plotted out stretches and exercises that’ll help me fix it up. I’m only a few weeks in at the time of writing and nerve injuries -- as I’m all too familiar with at this point -- take months to heal, but I’m already feeling improvements that give me confidence to trust this process is working. As I alluded to earlier, I’ve even been out jogging as part of my recovery steps, and I can say reintroducing some cardio to my life has been quite delightful! We’re closing in on the halfway point of the year, and I had some milestones in mind for it. I’m a bit behind where I wanted to be with Schmidt Times right now, even when I factored a buffer month into my agenda that I explore more on that channel’s Patreon, but it’s hard to be disappointed when you factor in what kind of year it’s been. The fact I’ve been maintaining a pretty strong schedule so far continues to be an accomplishment. That being said, the months ahead are going to demand a shift in my mindset, and my ability to adapt and be proactive will determine how satisfied I am with how my time was spent in 2021. To continue being a bit vague, I need to step out of my comfort zone soon and get cracking on the growth I’ve put a pin in over the pandemic’s waves of complications. While I wouldn’t say last month’s optimism for May paid off, this felt like a transitional month where I jumped over a bunch of emotional hurdles, and I believe I’m going into the next one stronger. The next week has some good openings to derail me, but if nothing turns sour on me, I should be off to the races in June. There’s cause for optimism, so let’s see how we fare!

#SchmidtSource #Schmidt Times #content creator #blog #youtuber #game developer #indie #monthly

[neuxue]

Wheel of Time liveblogging: The Gathering Storm ch 21

All in all a mixed bag of a chapter, in which Perrin reaches some decisions and Faile remembers, I still dislike Rolan, and Borderland sayings are A Problem for me

Chapter 21: Embers and Ash

Last weekend, I went to my favourite bookstore and bought an actual, physical, hardcover book for the first time in years. That book was The Book Of Dust Volume One: La Belle Sauvage by Philip Pullman. The first book of the companion series to His Dark Materials, the final book of which I queued for (and then promptly devoured) at a different bookstore, seventeen long years ago. Some of you may know the extent to which my love for this series is deep and abiding; the rest of you need only know that it was my Hogwarts letter and my magic wardrobe and my invitation to the world of magic and fantasy and wonder all rolled into one, and my love for it is deep and abiding.

I was never, until around this time last year, sure that we would ever be getting The Book of Dust. (In honesty, there have been times where I was unsure whether I wanted it; I’ve always been a bit skeptical of post-facto additions to canon). But now suddenly it’s here¸and I have it in my hand, and after a week of it taunting me from the bookshelf I finally have a few hours in which I can sit down and get some reading done.

Why am I telling you this story? So you will understand the LEVEL OF COMMITMENT I AM MAKING when I say that I have decided I’m not allowed to read La Belle Sauvage until I get at least through chapter 22 of The Gathering Storm. Which means I may never get to read La Belle Sauvage, because Chapter 22 is the one you all keep telling me will kill me.

But THIS IS MY PROMISE, AND I WILL KEEP TO IT, BY MY HOPE OF SALVATION AND REBIRTH.

So here we are. Chapter 21: Embers and Ash. And I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t point out that that’s a lovely chapter title. I’m not usually one for ranking favourites of things because usually I fail miserably, but once I’ve finished the series I might have to go through and rank all the chapter titles in order of awesome.

Perrin opened his eyes and found himself hanging in the air.

Oh great, we’ve moved beyond even cliffs and garden walls. Levelling up and NOT IN A GOOD WAY. LEVEL DOWN. ABORT. ABORT.

He felt a spike of terror, floundering in the sky.

I’d say ‘at least his survival instinct is intact’ but the past…oh…ten books or so have proved that to be utterly false.

(I say this as someone whose frequent activities include rock-climbing and flying trapeze, and whose recent google searches include ‘bungee jumping near London’ and ‘skydiving prices London’ so it’s possible I’m a hypocrite).

He waved his arms reflexively, as if to swim

Yeah I know swimming is my first instinct when suspended in midair as well, Perrin. Seriously, what the fuck? Also the more I think about it, the more hilarious this whole image is to me. Someone skilled at art and/or gif-making, please make some kind of visual representation of Perrin doggy-paddling in midair. In his pyjamas.

Well what do you know, we’re in the wolf dream. And after Perrin’s last chapter I’m optimistic that maybe he’ll finally commit to it properly. He’s danced on the edge of learning to use Tel’aran’rhiod since TDR and it’s about time for him to enroll in an actual crash course.

Pun only somewhat intended.

He took a deep breath, then closed his eyes and imagined himself jumping.

It’s okay, everybody falls the first time.

Nope, not Perrin. Perrin wins the Matrix Tel’aran’rhiod and sticks his landing perfectly.

This time, those dark storm clouds remained. They boiled, spun, and shot lines of lightning between different thunderheads.

The true difference between Sanderson and Jordan: Sanderson capitalises everything and Jordan pluralises ‘lightning’.

But the storm is not transient, not even here in Tel’aran’rhiod.

Actually, the interesting thing is that it’s not transient in Tel’aran’rhiod, where most things are, but it is mercurial and unpredictable in the real world. Those black and silver clouds from the prologue that hovered in the distance, then appeared instantaneously overhead, then vanished again…it’s a perfect reversal of how things are supposed to be. A storm whose reflection in the World of Dreams shows its gravity and permanence, while in the real world it is terrifying in part for its caprice. But even in the real world, it is not fading or vanishing or blowing over easily. The storm is gathering and everything is darkening and lightning hovers on the horizon, as it does here as a now-permanent feature in the skies of dreams.

It comes, Hopper agreed. If Shadowkiller falls to the storm, all will sleep forever.

If he falls to the storm. “I am the storm.” It’s not so much a question of whether Rand will be hit by the storm when it breaks as it is a question of whether he will be consumed by it, inside and out. “There is a rage in him fit to burn the world, and he holds it by a hair.” There is so little holding him back now, and so much power and anger within him. Master of the lightnings, rider on the storm. I’ve always linked Rand to the wind from the beginning of each book, for some reason (well, I know why I’ve made the link in my head; whether it was intended by Jordan is a different question but I’m inclined to think so), but now even that wind has become a tempest, and this time there was something wrong with the wind, and there is a storm gathering and Rand stands at the centre of it, and walks a razor’s edge between commanding it and being consumed by it, destroyed from the inside.

Perrin’s confused. It’s okay, Perrin. When you get home from dreamworld, just google ‘pathetic fallacy’ and also maybe ‘fisher king’ and things will start to make sense.

Or just when in doubt apocalypse.

Two legs, Young Bull? Two legs are slow!

Excuse you, ~legs are required for jumping, dancing, strolling along on those…what’s that word again? streets……~

“I have to keep control, Hopper,” he said. “When I let the wolf take control…well, I do dangerous things.”

Ah yes, this again.

Although, having said that, this actually isn’t a trope I get tired of, for the most part. This question of control, and the fear of losing it balanced against the knowledge of or desire for the power that such a surrender could bring; the fear of what lies beneath the surface, of what hides beneath who you want to be and curls itself around who you are; the navigation of lines and boundaries and balance.

Perrin wants control, but what he needs is something closer to balance, and understanding. And the desire for control, and the almost instinctive reaching for it feels more like a kind of denial. There is something within him that he fears, something within him that clashes with who he wants to be or thinks he needs to be, and so instead of allowing himself to explore and understand it, he suppresses it, denies that part of himself, and calls this control. And it feels like control, on the surface. But it isn’t; true control can’t be gained by simply suppressing. It comes more from knowing and accepting and understanding, from the ability to balance.

It’s not unlike Nynaeve and her block. She was, on some level, afraid of the power she had, and so she shut it away from herself, so that she could only access it when anger eroded those barriers. She could only access it when she ‘lost control’. But it wasn’t until she learned to surrender and accept that she was able to learn true control. To embrace the Power as a part of herself, and guide it as she willed.

That’s the difference, it seems to me. You can suppress something, and refuse to look at it, and hold it at bay with as much willpower as you can muster, and if you’re lucky it might not break through the barriers you’ve built and wreak havoc. (It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, in that way. If ‘losing control’ means letting this thing run rampant, unable to do anything to guide it or mitigate it because you’ve spent all your time and energy trying to push it away, then losing control is indeed something to fear). Or, you can do the much more difficult thing, and look it in the eyes and know what it is and learn how to use it, or how to accept it as a part of yourself, which is a very different (but arguably more effective) kind of control. It’s a control that comes from balance, rather than its absence.

But that’s what I see as Perrin’s issue. He’s always been afraid of losing control to the wolf, and because of that fear he’s never allowed himself to actually explore the wolf aspect of himself. So he doesn’t fully understand it, and yet he can’t rid himself of it, so he ends up in this ongoing situation where he tries to hold it at bay but invariably can’t do that permanently, which leads to these moments of ‘losing control’, which only serves to exacerbate the fear, which…oh hey there vicious circle.

Hopper, meanwhile, is attempting to convey either ‘please find some chill’ or ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about’ with a single expression.

There were wonderful things about what had happened to him since leaving the Two Rivers.

But he couldn’t continue to lose control. He had to find a balance.

Yeah, pretty much. Well done for articulating that to yourself, Perrin. And I think finding that balance will go a long way towards solving the issue of control. But we shall see.

Throwing away the axe had made a difference. The axe and the hammer were different weapons –one could be used only for killing, while the other gave him a choice.

I think I liked this better when it was just implied, rather than stated outright. There have been a few times, now, where I’ve felt this way in this book. I think in part it’s a Sanderson thing, because it feels very like how he handles some of this in his own books. Only there, it’s consistent with the overall storytelling method, and characters, and modes of characterisation, so I don’t particularly mind it. My personal preference is for things to be left a bit more open, and for authors to leave more to the reader, but I think in his own works Sanderson is certainly able to leave enough unsaid that the things he does explain clearly – usually pertaining more to characters’ states of mind or personal journeys and conflicts – don’t feel like clumsy storytelling, at least to me. It works, because it’s how he writes. The thing is, it’s not quite how Jordan writes. Jordan does give the reader a fair amount of explanation sometimes, but through slightly different methods – most of which are informative but slightly less direct. So in that context, statements like this, that just hand the situation to you, feel…clunky. Like they were pulled unaltered from an outline, or else like Sanderson felt clarification was needed, but relied – understandably – on his own methods to do so.

But this is also one of the things I actually expected of the authorial transition, just from having read Sanderson’s books. It’s one of the ways in which he and Jordan are very different as writers, and it’s definitely something that was on my mind as I started reading TGS. Which means there could absolutely be an element of confirmation bias at play here, but it also means I’m not overly surprised and therefore not all that disappointed by it at the end of the day.

“But I need to know this place, Hopper. I need to learn how to use it, control it.”

Men, Hopper thought, Sending the smells of dismissiveness and anger. Control. Always control.

Hopper definitely has a point there. I suppose it makes sense, given that each of us is the only constant in our own lives, and even that is up for debate, as I’m not sure anyone is truly immutable. So from that perspective the need for control makes sense, because especially if everything else is changing, it seems only natural to desire some kind of anchor. Maybe you have to be able either to trust in yourself or trust in your surroundings, and if we can’t have one we seek to impose the other. Maybe I’m just talking out my arse. But hey, that’s the whole point of this, isn’t it?

Perrin does his usual trick of pulling himself here too strongly because Perrin has no chill, Hopper tells him to leave and maybe find some chill, Perrin gets kicked out of dreamschool. Damn it, I was hoping for a little more progress but I suppose the very fact that Perrin’s actively trying to learn is a good start. Still, KIND OF UP AGAINST A DEADLINE HERE.

Oh man can I tell you how glad I am to see Faile out of that fucking Malden storyline?

Though there was that odd edge to his eyes. Not a dangerous edge, just  a sorrowful one. He had grown haunted while they were apart. She could understand that. She had a few ghosts of her own. One could not expect everything to remain the same, and she could tell that he still loved her – loved her fiercely. That was enough, and so she didn’t worry on it further.

And Perrin for his part seems able to see that Faile does have some ghosts of her own, and also accepts it. Malden was a shitshow but at least we’re getting some character growth and maturity out of it. Not that you can’t get those through other ways, but look, at this point, I’ll take what I can salvage from that whole…deal.

One of the things I genuinely like about how Perrin and Faile are handling the aftermath is that they both truly seem to understand. They understand that the other has been through some shit, and that they’ve been hurt in ways that may not be immediately obvious, and even that there are some things they don’t understand. But neither blames the other for that. Perrin doesn’t blame Faile for whatever happened in Malden and for whatever she had to do, even though he has no idea what exactly that might be. He may assume the worst – whatever the worst is, in his mind – but he makes it very clear that he isn’t holding that against her. And Faile, for her part, understands that Perrin has also probably dealt with some things that she doesn’t know the details of, but where that once may have incited insecurity or jealousy, now it’s just…part of the way things are, and she loves him and knows he loves her and that’s enough.

“I didn’t sleep with Berelain,” he said, voice gruff. “No matter what the rumours say.”

Dear, sweet, blunt Perrin. “I know you didn’t,” she said consolingly.

Honesty! Communication! Conversations in which characters just get straight to the point and state something clearly! Relationships that include a stronger and stronger element of trust!

You know, maybe it’s not actually all that suprising that, given this is the Wheel of Time (and Absolutely No Communication), it took a two-month slavery interlude, four books, and a battle to achieve something like that.

Snark aside, it is genuinely nice to see.

“Perrin, haven’t I explained this? A husband needs to know his wife is jealous, otherwise he won’t realise how much she cares for him. you guard that which you find the most precious. Honestly, if you keep making me spell things out like this, then I won’t have any secrets left!”

That makes absolutely no sense whatsoever to me and I’m not sure how much sense it makes to Perrin, but the important thing here is that she’s explaining her thought process and behaviour rather than assuming he will know what she’s doing and why. They both seem to have come a long way in that regard – mostly, I think, by realising that the other person just doesn’t know. They’re more aware of the fact that they’re coming from two very different places and sets of expectations and cultural norms and perceptive filters, and where that was once a source of tension and unintentional hurt on both sides, they’re now making an effort to be more honest and open and understanding, and to trust that, at the end of the day, they love each other.

It was as if she hadn’t quite understood what it was to be a lady until Malden. Oh, she’d had her share of victories. Cha Faile, the people of the Two Rivers, Alliandre and Perrin’s camp members. She’d put her training to use, helping Perrin learn to be a leader. All of this had been important, had required her to use what her mother and father had trained her to be. 

But Malden had opened her eyes. […] She had been humiliated, beaten, and nearly killed. And that had given her a true understanding of what it was to be a liege lady.

I have two problems with this. The first, and lesser, is that it feels like Sanderson again explaining a little bit too much – telling rather than showing. A little annoying, but I can deal with it; I think what irks me about it is more that it’s trying to paint Faile’s section of the Malden storyline as necessary and All About Her Character Development rather than…Damsel in Distress who is blocked at every turn from doing anything at all to rescue herself, is forced to rely on a man who may or may not ask a price for that safety, and in the end is rescued by the man who is placed at the centre of this storyline because we all know that the best way to hurt a male character is to kidnap, rape, or kill his female love interest. It’s not about her; it’s about him. At least have the decency to own up to it.

(The fact that Perrin as a character chooses to reject this notion, and acknowledges that Faile suffered and her pain is her own and he has no right to usurp it or hold her responsible for his own suffering by extension is a huge credit to him and to the way he’s written, and I appreciate it to almost an absurd extent, but it doesn’t solve the rest of the problem).

This brings me to the second thing about this that bothers me: She had been humiliated, beaten, and nearly killed. And that had given her a true understanding if what it was to be a liege lady.

Discovering strength in times of adversity is a trope for a reason, and that’s not what I have a problem with, because I think there’s a great deal of truth to it, and it can make for some excellent stories. No, my issue lies more in the specific kinds of adversity typically given to female characters, as well as the fact that this once again feels almost like retconning Faile’s storyline for the past few books to make it seem more palatable and more necessary and less All About Perrin.

Why is it that female characters must so often discover their strength only when they are humiliated and degraded, while male characters get to at least bear their pain with dignity as their arcs unfold?

I should clarify that this is an issue I see more in the genre as a whole than in Wheel of Time specifically. This series is definitely better than some at providing equal-opportunities Pain And Suffering For Everyone. The (male) protagonist is locked in a box and beaten (though even then, the humiliation aspect is far more subdued; the focus is agony), one of the (male) secondary protagonists is raped and humiliated for an extended period of time, and a (female) major character faces daily beatings with her head held high and is forging a remade Tower around her in the process.

But.

There’s still an imbalance there, if you stack it all on the scales. And without the rest of the genre exacerbating the issue, this might not be as much of a problem. Unfortunately, though, it’s one of those things that has become frustrating for all the times it’s occurred elsewhere, so now every time it shows up it’s just nails on the damn chalkboard.

Perrin learns leadership by having it thrust upon him in times of emergency. Lives are lost and he holds himself to blame, but he isn’t torn down before he’s allowed to grow. Faile, meanwhile, apparently doesn’t truly learn leadership until she’s enslaved.

Rand is captured and beaten. Egwene is captured and spanked. There’s a difference, much as I still love Egwene’s current storyline.

And then you get the genre as a whole, where the easiest way to generate a tragic backstory for a female character is to rape her. The easiest way to generate a tragic backstory for a male character? Hurt his wife and children. Hang on a second. (Oh, and then there’s the part where said male character is justified in having a vengeance-driven plotline, while the female character who is herself violated is usually punished in some way by the narrative for wanting that, and instead has to learn to love, or to forgive and move on).

Plus there’s the fact that male characters tend to have a much more diverse range of tragic backstories –and sometimes they don’t have a tragic backstory at all. They’ll face challenges and difficulties, but a male hero can make it through a story without degradation, without being actually knocked down himself. Whereas if a female character is written that way, the most common criticisms are that she’s ‘unrealistic’ or ‘too powerful’ or ‘hasn’t earned her ending’. Check out what people have to say about Rey, who is probably the best recent example I can think of of a heroine who gets to just be a hero.

Where are the female heroes who dedicate their lives to vengeance and justice for the ones who murdered their husbands? Where are the female heroes who are unjustly exiled and become noble stoic wandering badasses? Where are the female chosen ones for whom the weight of prophecy and saving the world is pain enough? Where are the female Aragorns, the female Jon Snows, the female Asriels, the female Han Solos? There are entire archetypes that are virtually nonexistent for female characters.

It gets tiring to only see certain roles ever given to male characters (and derided when someone tries to give them to a woman), and it gets tiring to see female characters robbed of agency and dignity in order to progress, while male characters get to hold on to a great deal more of these attributes. Wheel of Time is a lot better than some – in large part due simply to the fact that there are so many women – but it’s not exempt.

All of which is to say, the notion that Faile only discovered what it truly means to be a liege lady while she is enslaved and humiliated and slapped by the narrative every time she tries to reclaim some semblance of agency is…irritating.

Being a noblewoman meant going first. It meant being beaten so others were not. It meant sacrificing, risking death, to protect those who depended upon you.

Okay…and what part of that requires slavery and constant threat of sexual assault and routine humiliation and dependence on a man to rescue and protect you?

Remind me why she can’t learn these same things by braving Trollocs and Whitecloaks to go recruit an army that she leads back to the Two Rivers? Or by co-leading her and Perrin’s people as they take on the twin threats of Masema and the Shaido? Or maybe by being the one to secure that tenuous alliance with the Seanchan, at great risk? Or any number of other options that don’t involve being tied up naked on a table. For instance.

“I don’t care what happened to you,” he said.

She sighed. No, not asleep. “What happened to me?” she asked with confusion.

He opened his eyes, staring up at the tent. “The Shaido, the man who was with you when I saved you. Whatever he did…whatever you did to survive. It’s all right.”

This is the part I like. This absolute understanding that whatever happened and whatever she did, it’s not for him to judge or claim or even ask her about. And he goes out of his way to make that point – not because he wants an explanation or because some part of him is holding it against her, but because he wants to make it clear to her that his silence isn’t in any way a condemnation. It’s okay; it’s not about him; he understands. I am absurdly grateful that this is included – multiple times – in this aftermath, especially because so much else about the whole thing frustrates me.

When the gai’shain women had started to be in danger, the Brotherless had chosen and protected those they could.

Those they wanted to have sex with, you mean.

They hadn’t asked anything for their efforts.

Bullshit.

Well…that wasn’t true. They had asked for much, but had demanded nothing.

If only it were that simple.

It bothers me, this massive oversimplification that’s apparently supposed to make us think it’s all okay. He didn’t outright demand anything, so it’s all fine.

But coercion’s a lot more complicated than that, and this explanation entirely fails to recognise the huge power differential in the situation. Did Rolan force her? No. Did he allow her to believe – without saying or doing anything to reassure her to the contrary – that her continued protection could well depend on his continued interest in her? Absolutely. Faile thinks at various points of how to balance maintaining his interest, of what she might have to do, of what it might come to.

And that is fucked up. “Hey, I can keep you from being raped by these other guys, but only while I think I have a chance of sleeping with you myself.” And even if he would have continued to protect her anyway, he doesn’t tell her that. So while the constant threat of rape may have decreased for her, there’s absolutely still an implicit threat hanging over her head that he does ABSOLUTELY FUCK-ALL TO MITIGATE.

He didn’t demand anything, so it’s fine. He just kept her in a situation where at any moment he could have demanded whatever he wanted and she’d have been hard-pressed to say no, because that might mean foregoing his protection. He let her live with that hanging over her head, this sense that at any moment it could escalate beyond her control and there would be nothing she could do about it. Accede to him or take her luck with the rest. At that point, it may be a ‘yes’ but it sure as hell isn’t freely given consent.

If you feel like your safety depends on someone’s sexual interest in you, it doesn’t really matter whether they’ve made demands or requests. And I hate, hate, the way this reduces it to a simplistic black-and-white ‘he didn’t rape her so everything is fine’.

I may have mentioned I’m not a fan of Rolan.

She had never so much as kissed Rolan, but she had used his desire for her as an advantage. And she suspected that he’d known what she was doing.

Wait, really? We’re really doing this? She was a slave and reliant on his protection, and he continued to pursue her despite her refusing him, but we’re going the temptress/seductress route here? Because it wasn’t his fault,it was really her, she was using her wily feminine wiles and he couldn’t possibly be held responsible for his actions in the face of wily feminine wiles and so really she was the one taking advantage of him, the poor guy. Power imbalance? Slavery? Coercion and a sense of entirely conditional safety? Nah, she led him on and used him and he was powerless to resist her. Of course. So really he’s the victim here.

Fuck that whole narrative and the horse it rode in on with an unlubricated chainsaw.

Of course he knew what she was doing, because he created the entire damn situation in which she felt as if she needed to do it, and still did absolutely nothing to give her any indication to the contrary.

[Perrin] had changed during these two months, perhaps as much as she had. That was good. In the Borderlands, her people had a saying: “Only the Dark One stays the same.” Men grew and progressed; the Shadow just remained as it was.

This, I like. The Wheel of Time turns…and ending that, ending change, is just another kind of annihilation that masquerades as eternity.

Also, character development! Self awareness!

“Has anyone discovered what happened to Masema?”

‘I don’t know; has anyone discovered what happened to that knife I…misplaced? Seen it anywhere? Shame, I liked that knife.’

“Blasted colours…I don’t want to watch you sleeping, Rand.”

I don’t know, I’d be grateful Rand is getting any sleep at all, really. Also, just talk to Mat. You could be getting a much more awkward display. Take what you can get.

“What happened to your hand? Light-blinded fool, take better care of yourself…You’re all we have…”

Ah, this is…there’s something almost achingly soft and gentle about this, about the unfiltered moment here where Perrin’s barely even aware of what he’s saying but this is what he says. Where you see Rand’s pain not even through another’s eyes, but a step removed from that, and it serves as a lovely sad reminder of how very human Rand is.

And it’s striking, because when you actually see Rand in the story, either through his own eyes or someone else’s, that’s…not really how he comes across at this point. Especially to other characters, but even to the reader his pain has become something of a constant, a part of the status quo. And his humanity is slipping. He can’t let himself feel any of this, and those immediately around him can’t see it, and so you just…don’t. It takes a moment like this to evoke the memory of the Rand from the beginning, of the boy who was Perrin’s friend, of the fact that all their hopes rest on this young man who has been pushed far too far, beyond all reasonable endurance, who is coming apart and yet can’t let go. He’s all they have, but there’s a fondness that comes through here, a gentleness, that says not ‘saviour’ but ‘friend’.

Faile’s off on some midnight errand; what else is new.

Chiad smiled back. “He did not expect that one of the men he killed would turn out to be the one to whom Bain was gai’shain. I do not think Gaul is happy to have both of us serving him.”

I do not think I’m happy to have both of them serving Gaul. How come he gets to carry his spear to the Last Battle but they don’t? Why do we have to resolve this love triangle by making both fighting women put aside their spears to serve the man? I mean, this is not the hill I’m going to die on, but…sigh.

Faile unwrapped the bundle. The contents weren’t anything extraordinary. A small handkerchief of yellow silk. A belt of worked leather which had a pattern of bird feathers pressed into its sides. A black veil. And a thin leather band with a stone tied at the centre.

Ah. That’s what Faile’s midnight errand is. They’re holding a funeral.

“Four people are dead,” Faile said, mouth suddenly dry. She spoke formally, for that was the best way to keep the emotion from her voice. “They protected us, even cared for us. Though they were the enemy, we mourn them. Remember, though, that they were Aiel. For an Aiel, there are far worse ends than death in combat.”

I…this is lovely and on one hand I absolutely understand why it’s here, but on the other hand I’m really, really not here for the redemption of Rolan. Or rather, for the narrative insistence that there was nothing that needed redeeming. I do not come to mourn Rolan, I come to bury him.

Faile had distracted Rolan at just the right moment, making him hesitate. He’d done so out of concern for her, but that pause had allowed Perrin to kill him.

Had Faile done so intentionally? She still didn’t know. So much had been going through her mind, so many emotions at seeing Perrin. She’d cried out, and…she could not decide if she’d been trying to distract Rolan to let him die by Perrin’s hand.

This part works for me, far better than much of the rest of the scene so far. Faile replaying the scene over and over in her head, still not sure of her own motives in that single instant where there was no time to think, only to react. Knowing that this resulted in Rolan’s death, and just trying to work through it. It’s not even a mourning so much as a processing, and it feels raw and honest and it’s one of those questions she’ll probably never have an answer to.

And here, I find that it doesn’t matter so much that I personally cheered when Rolan was killed, because this is entirely about Faile. It’s not about who exactly Rolan was, or whether he’s someone we should like or feel sorry for; it’s just about…those split-seconds in which everything changes and someone is dead and there’s blood on her hands, and friend or enemy he was known to her, and she’s human. There was nothing else that could have been done […] But that made it more tragic. Faile steeled herself to keep her eyes from tearing up like Lacile’s. She hadn’t loved Rolan, and she was glad that Perrin was the one who had survived the conflict. But Rolan had been an honourable man, and she felt…dirtied, somehow, that his death had been her fault.

…No. Sorry, this is where the scene has lost me again. Rolan is not what I would call an honourable man, for all the reasons I’ve gone into at length above. And this notion that Faile feels dirty, feels like she is at fault…it makes me sad, actually. Because we see her feeling shame or guilt, and we see this polished version of him in retrospect that paints him as honourable and his death as a tragedy, and so once again it’s as if the whole thing has been flipped on its head to make him the victim. When there’s never really an honest examination of what he did. I’m not trying to say he deserved to die for it, necessarily, but the lens through which this whole thing has been shown treats him as virtually blameless, and leaves Faile with this feeling of guilt and shame and sorrow. We don’t need more of that. We’re already far too proficient at seeing the Rolans of the world as paragons of honour and pitying them their suffering at the hands of women they’ve wronged.

This shouldn’t have had to be. But it was. Her father had often spoken of situations like this, when you had to kill people you liked just because you met them on the wrong side of the battlefield.

I may have mentioned this one or two hundred times, but I will eat this particular trope up with a spoon. Enemies-by-circumstance, betrayal-by-necessity, enemies-to-friends, friends-to-enemies, the whole notion of ‘the wrong side of the battlefield’. Love it.

But that’s not what this feels like to me. I can’t see Rolan in that light; I don’t see him as one who was a friend, but as one who was simply a different kind of threat. I can’t put him in that tragic role because I hate him for the choices he made and the things he did to Faile, for the position he put her in.

And this whole concept – when you had to kill people you liked just because you met them on the wrong side of the battlefield – could be show so much more powerfully through so many other characters. You have Tylee and Perrin, who have already laid the foundations for this, if one were so inclined. You have Mat and Tuon and “You are not my enemy, but your Empire is.” You have Gawyn, who has fought and killed men he liked and respected, and whose choices have torn him apart. Hell, you have that lovely scene with Ituralde and General Turan. The Seanchan as a whole are a ready-made device to set up all kinds of these small tragedies, if you want to use them. You have a Black Tower of divided loyalties, and no doubt plenty of Soldiers and Dedicated whose chosen ‘side’ is little more than an accident of circumstance. There’s not exactly a shortage of options here, and the fact that this is the one highlighted is…odd to me, and weirdly disappointing.

If she had to go back and do it again, she would take the very same actions. She wouldn’t be able to risk Perrin. Rolan had to die.

But the world seemed a sadder place to her for the necessity of it.

Once again, I am wholeheartedly on board with the overall sentiment being conveyed here, in the abstract, but I so strongly disagree with the way it’s applied in the specific.

Maeric’s death felt like a tragedy. Singing, the Moshaine Shaido ran to dance their deaths felt like a tragedy. The existence of the Brotherless feels like a tragedy. Even the deterioration of the Shaido, and the loss of their identity as Aiel, and the way it has slowly destroyed them from the inside, feels like a tragedy.

If you want to play with the tragedy of circumstance and inevitability and situations in which there are no good choices, in the context of the Aiel, you already have the Rhuidean sequence and everything that follows on from it. You have the Shaido as the continuation – yet another change, from what they once were to something unrecognisable, while all the while fighting to hold to that core of I am Aiel! You have the Aiel leaving the Three-Fold Land and not knowing if they will return; you have their questions of identity and what comes next; you have those who cannot accept the knowledge of who they were and so instead must betray who they are, by breaking bonds of clan or society. You have the deaths of so many Shaido at Dumai’s Wells, in a battle that definitely makes the world seem a sadder place for the necessity of it. You have all of this; you don’t need to glorify a sexual predator.

“Dead by our hand,” Faile said, “or simply dead from battle, these four showed us honour. As the Aiel would say, we have great toh to them. I don’t’ think it can be repaid.”

You. Owe. Them. Nothing.

That’s the whole damn point. That’s where the whole coercion aspect comes in; in creating a sense of guilt for not repaying, in creating a feeling of obligation or necessity or debt, the coin of which is made very clear even if it is not demanded.

“But we can remember them. The Brotherless and one Maiden showed us kindness when they didn’t need to. They kept their honour when others had abandoned it. If there is a redemption to be found for them, and for us, this will be it.”

This whole scene, just taken as itself and without everything that’s attached to it, is beautifully done, and strikes such a lovely tone.

I just can’t appreciate it because I so fundamentally hate so much of the message it buys into and conveys, and it frustrates me that there’s absolutely no acknowledgement of that.

“Kinhuin had only just started looking out for me,” Alliandre said. “I know what he wished for, but he never demanded it. […] Even if I turned him down, he would have helped us.”

That last bit would go some way towards making this a little bit better if I had any faith at all that it was true. And we didn’t see much of Kinhuin, so maybe he really was a decent guy. But what we did see, of Rolan, did not…really match that. He didn’t say he wouldn’t help Faile if she turned him down, but he sure as hell did not say he would, and he made his interest in her and his…courting…of her so much a part and parcel of his protection of her that it would absolutely have been a risk to trust that he’d continue to protect her anyway.

Also there’s the fact that he didn’t stop asking her and pressuring her even when she did say no, which is bad enough when there isn’t the whole slavery issue thrown into the mix, but as it was she had no way to get away from him and he showed that ‘no’ didn’t mean a whole lot to him.

So in conclusion, nice try but I’m not really buying it. At least, not as a blanket statement for all of them.

“Maretha hated what the other Shaido did,” Arrela said. “But she stayed with them for her clan. She died for that loyalty. There are worse things to die for.”

That, there, is much closer to what I do actually find sad about the Shaido and the whole situation of those caught up in this. That’s the tragedy. Just…remove the part where Rolan and the others kept asking for sex and this whole thing would be SO MUCH BETTER. Agh.

The past was a field of embers and ash, an old Saldaean proverb said, the remnants of the fire that was the present.

That is beautiful.

And maybe it’s only a Saldaean proverb, rather than a Borderland one, but it reminds me so strongly of:

“Burning your future? It will sorrow a great many, I think, when you die in the Blight.”

“Burning my past,” [Lan] said, rising. “Burning memories. A nation. The Golden Crane will fly no more.”

[…]

“You said you burned your past. Let the past have its ashes.”

So…there’s that. I’m not sure I even have a point to make here except that this scene in New Spring destroyed me and that thought from Faile brought it immediately to mind and I’m fine, everything’s fine, this is completely 100% okay, I have no problems at all being reminded of Lan burning his past and not believing he has any right to a future because his life is tied to that fire.

(The past is a field of embers and ash, but the Golden Crane flies for Tarmon Gai’don).

Anyway. Back to Perrin.

He stared up in the darkness, trying to make sense of Hopper and the wolf dream. The more he thought about it, the more determined he grew.He would march to the Last Battle – and when he did, he wanted to be able to control the wolf inside of him. […] He had some decisions to make. They wouldn’t be easy, but he’d make them.

And so Perrin at last is taking his final steps on the road that will lead him to the finale. He isn’t lost anymore; he still has decisions to make and things to learn, but he knows now what those are. He knows what he needs to do and he’s not running from it anymore, or pushing it away. He’ll face what comes and he’ll face it on his feet.

He was going to have to let Faile ride into danger, perhaps risk her again.

Yes. And given the storyline of the past few books, that’s…an impressive realisation for him to come to. Not an easy one for him to accept, but once again, at least he knows it now. Besides, those are her choices to make.

The decision to face his  problems brought him a measure of peace

Yes. That’s the real closure of this previous arc, here. The decision to finally face, head-on, what comes next. To acknowledge what that will require from him. Now he can move forward.

Next (TGS ch 22) Previous (TGS ch 20)

#this was actually a lovely chapter #despite my issues with some of it #Wheel of Time #neuxue liveblogs WoT #The Gathering Storm

[adiwriting]

In the Moment

Summary: Now that Oliver’s been home for a few weeks, he’s starting to learn more about what happened to his loved ones while he was away. Finding out Tommy kidnapped Felicity wasn’t what he expected. 

Part of the “Home Verse”

As always, thanks to @acheaptrickandacheesyoneline​ for being my cheerleader. And you can thank @realityisoverrated-fic​ for this one-shot. I thought that this verse was done, but her posting fic inspired me to share more from this verse.

Starling City 2012

Oliver lays in bed next to Felicity, gently tracing patterns on her body while she comes back down to Earth. They’ve been together for two weeks now, but his insatiable need for her hasn’t diminished in the slightest. If anything, he’s even more determined to come up with new and inventive ways to get her off. He sees it as a challenge, to see how quickly he can drive her crazy. Figure out how long he can keep her on the edge of bliss. How many times he can make her come.

She’s not complaining. Her need for him hasn’t diminished at all, either.

Felicity glances over at the clock. It’s nearly 6am. In less than an hour, the sun will be rising. It had been a long night. They’d spent a majority of the evening saving Peter Declan and Laurel from a staged prison riot at Iron Heights. Afterwards, they’d both been high on adrenaline and unable to sleep, so they’d naturally passed the time with their new favorite activity: exploring each other’s bodies.

Oliver’s lips find the back of her neck and she sighs in content.

“You should try to get a little rest before you have to go to work,” Oliver whispers into her skin.

She shakes her head. “If I sleep now, I’ll be even more tired. At this point, I just need to power through.”

“We’ll stay in tonight. Get to bed early,” he promises.

She’s been burning the candle at both ends ever since she started helping Oliver and his little crusade to take down everyone on his father’s list and save the city.  She’s hoping John Diggle comes around soon and joins the team. Maybe it’ll help lighten the load for them both.

“Can we order Toro’s?” she asks, giving him an innocent smile over her shoulder, knowing that he’s not a huge sushi fan, but he rarely says no to her when she smiles at him. It’s one of the many things she’s been learning about Oliver now that they are officially dating.

“Whatever your little heart desires,” he says with a matching smile.

They lay in comfortable silence for several minutes as Felicity basks in the feeling of his hands on her body and his weight against her. It’s almost enough to lull her into sleep, but she fights it off. She knows she’ll regret it all day if she goes to sleep now. She’d learned that lesson the hard way her first night on Team Arrow when she’d gotten only 90 minutes of sleep and had a pounding headache the rest of the day.

Oliver’s fingers make their way to the outside of her thigh as he traces over the 4 inch long scar she has there. “I’ve been meaning to ask… Where did you get this?”

“Oh,” she chuckles, as the memory comes back to her. “That would be the infamous scuba diving incident.”

Oliver sends her a questioning look.

“About a year after you went missing, Tommy took me to Thailand. I guess it was his way of trying to cheer me up.”

“Okay,” Oliver says, his voice doing this gravely thing it does when he’s trying not to be jealous or upset about all the time he’s missed. “That doesn’t explain the scar.”

Felicity rolls over onto her back so that she can pull Oliver down on top of her and wrap her arms around him. She’s found that he doesn’t like talking much anymore, especially about his feelings of isolation and pain, but laying in her arms seems to bring him some relief. He likes to rest his ear against her heart while she runs her fingers through his hair.

“Tommy forced me out onto a boat, determined that I would become scuba certified. He was young and naive… He didn’t know about how spectacularly uncoordinated I am.”

Oliver snorts at that, letting her know that he can’t be feeling that upset, but she keeps running her hands through his hair all the same.

“So what happened?” he asks.

“I blew out my eardrum, then fell, bumped my head pretty good, and sliced open my leg trying to get back onto the boat,” she says. “I was deaf in one ear for two weeks and got 6 stitches from a quote-unquote doctor named Big Louie in what they claimed was a doctor’s office but looked suspiciously like a restaurant.”

“Tommy didn’t take you to a hospital?” Oliver growls, and Felicity can see that he’s ready to march across the hall and have a few choice words with Tommy.

“Relax,” she says. “It was nothing a bandage, an ice pack, and a cold beer couldn’t fix.”

“You should have gone to a real hospital,” he says, tracing over her scar repeatedly.

She runs her fingers over his own scars and waits for him to look up at her so she can send him a pointed look. He’s one to talk.

“Tommy should have known better,” Oliver grumbles. “He should have taken better care of you.”

“Tommy took great care of me,” she says. “I’m fine. I’m still alive. No infections or anything. Now it’s just a funny story to tell at parties.”

Oliver sighs deeply, resting his head back against her chest and says no more. She can tell that it’s still bothering him though.

“What?” she asks.

“I feel like you had an entire life without me.”

The words tug at Felicity’s heart. Thinking back on how much he missed during those five years is never fun.

“I did,” she says sadly. “So did you…”

His body tenses and she runs her hands up and down his back to try and help him relax.

“Oliver, we can’t pretend like those five years didn’t exist,” she says. “They did. And they were awful. I know you hear Tommy and I tell you funny stories from your time away and it probably seems like we were happy without you. We weren’t. Those good times were few and far between. Stolen moments between the misery. We’re much happier now that you’re back.”

Oliver lifts his head up to look her in the eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says with a smile, leaning in to kiss him.

When he pulls away, his face is looking a lot less troubled. “So how did Tommy convince you to travel to Thailand?”

“He didn’t,” she says with a shrug. “He literally picked me up over his shoulder and kidnapped me.”

“He did what?!”

****

Starling City 2008

Felicity is sitting on her couch in her pajamas with a bottle of red breathing on the table. It’s a Friday night and she fully intends to spend the entire weekend binge watching Doctor Who and never leaving her couch.

She’s just queued up the first episode and poured herself a healthy serving when the door swings open and Tommy strolls in with a smile that just spells trouble.

“As I suspected,” Tommy says with a tutting of his tongue.

“I thought you were spending the weekend with Chastity,” she says with an annoyed sigh. She really thought she’d have the apartment to herself so that she wouldn’t have to deal with his judgement for her couch potato ways.

“It’s Charity, and no,” Tommy says. “I cancelled my plans, because this is a much more serious matter.”

He gestures at her wildly, which is nothing new. He’s forever appalled that she doesn’t spend every weekend drowning her sorrows in the bottle with him.

“You should call her back,” she says, but he shakes his head.

When she pointedly ignores him and turns the volume on the TV up, he moves to stand in front of her, blocking her view.

“Tommy,” she grumbles.

“It’s been a year to the day,” he says with a sad look.

“Why do you think I’m drinking?” she asks, holding up her glass in silent cheers before downing the entire thing.

The last thing she needs is a heart to heart with Tommy on a day where she’s already feeling like she’s about to break into thousands of little pieces that will never get put back together again.

A year ago today, Oliver went missing. A year ago, the Gambit was lost at sea and her entire world fell apart.

She doesn’t need the reminder. She knows today’s date. She’s been counting down to it with increasing dread all month. She will no longer count his absence from her life in days, weeks, or months. It will be in years and that’s terrifying.

“Aren’t you tired of feeling like this?” he asks.

She knows it’s not judgement. He’s not just talking about her, he’s talking about himself.

The two of them have been going through the motions of life ever since the Gambit went down. Both of them have gone to therapy to try and get passed the depression Oliver’s disappearance put them in, but neither the therapy or the anti-depressants seem to be working. Tommy still goes out most nights burying his pain in pretty woman and she still spends most evenings on the couch pretending the real world doesn’t exist.

Felicity lets out a deep sigh.

Of course she’s tired of feeling like this. If she knew how to make the pain stop, she would have done something by now. But after Cooper left, Oliver was the only thing that held her together. When Oliver left, she had nobody. Tommy was there… has been there since the day Oliver left, but it’s not like they are best friends. They both stand by each other because it makes them feel closer to Oliver. But the truth is, they don’t have a lot in common and apart from cleaning each other up when their depression gets the best of them, they don’t really share much with each other. They are roommates, but Tommy is not Oliver. He never will be.

“Okay,” Tommy says, nodding his head like he’s decided something. “That’s it. You’re coming with me.”

Tommy moves over to the sofa and picks her up off the couch and throws her over his shoulder, causing her to shriek.

“What are you doing?” she yells. “Put me down!”

“No can do, Smoak,” Tommy says. “I cannot watch you spend another weekend on this couch. You’re coming with me.”

He walks them to the front door, all the while, she’s terrified he’s going to drop her, but thankfully, he doesn’t.

“Jesus, Smoak,” he says. “Are you sure you’re eating? You’re barely 100 pounds. I knew you were getting too thin.”

“Let me down!” she yells at him, smacking at his back as he grabs her purse off of the table and opens the door.

“Just relax,” he says, like it’s no big deal.

“Tommy Merlyn! You put me down this instant!” she yells as he locks the door behind them and heads down the hall and towards the elevator.

A few of their neighbors open their doors to see what all the commotion is about, but quickly close them again when they see who it is.

“I’m not even dressed!” she complains, moving her hands to cover her butt, which has to be hanging out of her shorts. She isn’t exactly wearing her nice pajamas. These are the pajamas that she’s had since high school that nobody is ever supposed to see her in.

“We’ll get you some clothes when we get there,” he informs her, refusing to put her down as they step into the elevator.

“Where are we going?” she asks, sighing in defeat when she realizes that yelling and hitting him is getting her nowhere. Perhaps she can reason with him.

“Somewhere where it’s impossible to stay sad,” he tells her.

“Lou’s Bakery?” she asks. Actually, one of his giant chocolate chip cookies does sound amazing.

Tommy doesn’t answer her, so she keeps guessing at various places around the city she thinks he might bring her. He can’t really take her clubbing in her current attire. Even with Tommy Merlyn’s money, she’s sure no place would allow her in looking like she does.

There’s a driver waiting for them at the curb, letting her know that whatever this is, it had been planned. He helps her into the car and gets in after her, telling the driver to lock the doors so she won’t escape.

“Really?” she asks, unamused.

He just smirks at her.

“Where are you taking me, Tommy?” she asks, sitting back in the seat and crossing her arms. She looks out the window mournfully. So much for her date with The Doctor.

“You’ll find out when we get there,” he says.

“If you’re trying to recreate something here, you should know that Oliver never would have done this,” she grumbles.

“Not because he didn’t think about it,” Tommy says. “He was just scared of your loud voice and I’m immune.”

They pull up to an airstrip and Felicity’s heart drops.

“No,” she shakes her head as she realizes his plans.

“Yes,” he says with an amused smile.

“No,” she says sternly. “I’m not joking, Tommy. I’m not getting on a plane with you.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure, Smoak?” he says, opening the door.

Sense of adventure? She scoffs. She has no sense of adventure. Her sense of adventure died when Cooper was arrested. Any lingering desire to experience the world disappeared when The Gambit went missing. Felicity prefers to play it safe.

She seriously debates making a run for it, but she doesn’t think she’d get very far. For starters, she has no shoes. She has no cell phone. She eyes her purse that Tommy has tucked under his arm. If she could get to her wallet, she could use a payphone to call a cab. There still has to be payphones in Starling City, right?

“‘Lis,” Tommy says, seriously. “Just come with me. I promise, you’ll have fun.”

“Tell me where we are going,” she says, even though she has no intention of going anywhere with him.

He shakes his head.

She grumbles. Oliver would never have done this to her. He would have asked first, and respected her when she said no. He’d convince her to take a vacation, sure, but a planned one. That she could pack for. And request time away from work.

She wouldn’t be at an airport in her worst pair of pajamas without any shoes or luggage.

“Felicity.” He waits until she’s looking at him. “I need this,” he says seriously.

Well… that’s not exactly fair. He knows that she can’t say no if he’s looking at her like that... Like his entire world is two seconds from imploding and if he can’t keep the party going, then he’s not going to make it.

Tommy is Oliver’s best friend. If he’s in need, Oliver would want her to help him. Oliver would have already been on the plane with Tommy.

“How far is it?” she asks, knowing she’s going to have to go along with whatever insane idea he’s got.

“It’s not far,” he says, and she curses the fact that she can’t read him like she used to be able to read Oliver. She has no way of knowing if he’s lying or not.

“I have to work on Monday,” she tells him.

“My name is on the building,” he says. “One of the benefits is that you get to go on adventures with me and nobody can fire you.”

“No, they can just judge me and whisper about how they think I’m trying to sleep my way to the top,” she grumbles.

“If you really wanted to sleep your way to the top, you’d sleep with my father,” Tommy says, making them both cringe. “Besides, we aren’t having sex. We’re just going on a trip together. Come on… live in the moment.”

Live in the moment . It’s what Oliver used to say to her.

The words pull at her heart painfully as she remembers how he used to say those words to her whenever he thought she was getting too into her head.

She misses him so much. Most days, it takes everything in her just to get out of bed. When she does manage to survive another week without him, she wants nothing more than to collapse on the couch and drown out the world. Life without him isn’t right. There’s always something just a bit off. Every day comes with reminders. She still finds herself picking up the phone to call him most days before she remembers.

“It’s been a year,” she whispers, still surprised that she’s managed to survive so long without him.

“I know,” Tommy says sadly. “You know… Oliver used to go on these adventures with me.”

“He told me,” she says with a sad smile.

“I miss him,” he says, and she can see the tears in his eyes threatening to fall.

Tommy has been every bit the mess that she’s been. Oliver had been his brother. The only real family he had, since his father is distant and cold most of the time.

She reaches out to pull him into a hug. “I miss him, too.”

When they pull apart, Felicity sighs. She’s really going to do this, then. For Tommy. For Oliver.

She’s going to get on a plane with no luggage. No clear idea where she’s going. And no Earthly idea of when she’ll be back.

They walk to the plane, where the pilot greets them.

“I trust that you both have your passports?” the pilot asks.

“Passports?!” she asks, feeling her stomach drop. “Where the hell are we going?”

“To—” the pilot starts to say, but Tommy cuts him off.

“It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t have my passport. It’s in Vegas,” she says, not in the least bit disappointed for having derailed their plans. They’ll just have to downsize their adventure. Darn.

Tommy smiles at her like she’s missing something obvious as he pulls her passport out of his pocket. “As if I wouldn’t cover all bases. Your mom FedEx’d it to me.”

“You involved my mother?” she asks, smacking his arm hard.

“Had to make sure you weren’t reported missing,” he says, taking her hand and pulling her up the stairs to the plane. “You know kidnapping is a felony. And I’m too pretty for jail.”

“You realize it’s still kidnapping even if you involve my mother. I’m over 18,” she says.

“Only if you’re reported missing,” he says, and she glares at him, playfully.

“Don’t forget I can hack any network,” she threatens. “I can make sure that your cellmate is some T-Bag wannabe that makes you hold their pocket.”

“They should be so lucky,” he says. “I’m a catch.”

She rolls her eyes and takes her seat.

The plane is nice. She’s never been on a private jet before. Oliver used to offer her his family’s jet when they were kids and he wanted her to come to Starling, but her mother thought that was way too much. And when they got to college and Oliver offered her the jet to go back and forth from Vegas to MIT, she thought it was a ridiculous strain on the environment. Who needs to use all the fuel to fly a private jet across the country when she was just as content to ride commerical with the other common folk?

But as much as she tries to stay humble and avoid anything too opulent living with Tommy, she has to admit that flying private has some serious perks. Like getting an entire couch to herself and a big screen TV that already has Doctor Who pulled up.

She smiles at Tommy and he winks at her.

“Enjoy your date with The Doctor. You’ve got enough time for a whole season.”

An entire season of Who. Just where were they going?

****

Felicity wakes up to the lights in the cabin coming back on as their flight attendant, Ashlyn, informs her that they are getting ready to land. She rubs her eyes as she tries to wake up. They’ve been in the air for nearly 18 hours by now and Felicity’s body is having a hard time adjusting. She has no idea what time it is back home or what time it is… wherever they are now.

“Where are we?” she asks, glancing across the aisle to see that Tommy is passed out.

“We will be landing in Phuket in about forty five minutes.”

“Phuket,” she says with a nod, as the fog in her head starts to clear and she processes what she'd just been told. “Wait… Phuket. We’re in Thailand?”

“We will be shortly,” Ashlyn says with smile. “Can I get you anything before we start our descent?”

Felicity shakes her head and turns to look out the window. The moon is still out so she can’t see much of the land, but the lights look pretty from up here. She can just barely make out the ocean as it reflects the moonlight. She can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement, despite her earlier reluctance. She’s never been out of the country before apart from a short road trip to Mexicali back in high school. Plus, a trip to the beach wouldn’t be the worst thing to keep her mind off of things. She can’t remember the last time she had so much as a tan line, let alone visited a beach.

“Guess the secret is out,” Tommy says, sliding out of his seat and next to her on the couch.

She smiles back at him, unable to contain her excitement. “We’re in Thailand!”

“Somebody’s changed their tune,” he says with a laugh.

“Well you didn’t tell me we were going to Thailand,” she says, turning back to the window to look out.

“If I had, you still would have protested,” Tommy says. “You’re allergic to fun. I have to drag you to go anywhere that isn’t work.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” she says.

“Because I dragged you here,” he teases. “When we land, we’ll go to the hotel for a few more hours of sleep since it is just barely 4am here. But when we wake up, we’re going to go to the elephant sanctuary.”

“Elephants?!” she asks, looking up at him hopefully.

Elephants are her favorite animals in the world. She still has memories of when her father used to work at The Mirage and he would take her to see the elephants there. It’s one of the only happy memories she still has of him. The hotel has since retired the elephants and as happy as that makes Felicity for their sake, a part of her was sad to see one of the only remaining connections she had to her dad slip away.

“Oliver once told me you were obsessed with them,” Tommy says. “The idiot was trying to buy you an elephant for Hanukkah, but his mom wouldn’t let him.”

Felicity laughs at that. She remembers Oliver calling to tell her that very story back when she was a freshman and Oliver felt the need to apologize and explain why he’d only gotten her a stuffed elephant instead. Nevermind the fact that the stuffed elephant was actually the gift from an elephant sanctuary sent as a thank you for adopting a real elephant named Tukari who’d been rescued from a rundown zoo. There was no ‘only’ about a gift like that.

“She was rightly concerned that I wouldn’t have anywhere to put it,” Felicity said. “And apparently appalled when Oliver said they could keep it at the mansion and I would come and visit it.”

“Which do you think appauld her more: You visiting or having an elephant as a pet?” Tommy asks.

“It was probably pretty equal,” she says, rolling her eyes.

Though, to be fair, Moira hasn’t always hated her with as deep a passion as she does now. She’s never liked her, but ever since she found out about the voicemail that Oliver left Felicity before getting on the Gambit, Moira has been out for her blood.

“He was so in love with you, I don’t know how you didn’t see it,” Tommy says with a smile.

He means well, but the comment just reminds her of all the time she lost. Of what could have been… If only she’d gotten on the boat with him... If only she’d told him about her feelings earlier… If only she’d stopped him from getting on the boat… Her life is a never ending cycle of what ifs.

“Yeah,” she says, suddenly feeling all the excitement slip away as she remembers what today is.

“We’re going to find him,” he says.

“It’s been a year,” she says.

She’s trying her best to keep up the optimism, but the longer he remains missing, the harder it is to believe he’s still out there somewhere. And the less she wants to. If he did manage to survive, what kind of life is he living? If he were anywhere civilized, he would have been able to find his way back home. Reach out for help. Something… If he’s alive, that means he’s probably deserted on an island somewhere like Tom Hanks in Castaway.

And what kind of life is that ?

“We won’t stop looking,” Tommy says.

She shakes her head.

No. They’ll never stop looking for Oliver. Not as long as there’s a chance he’s still out there and needs their help.

“So what are we going to do after elephants?” she asks, trying to bring the mood back around. This trip is supposed to be helping them feel better, not make them more depressed.

“I’ve got two full weeks planned,” he says.

“Two weeks?! Some of us have jobs,” she says. Instantly thinking of all the work she’s going to be missing out on.

“Relax. My dad knows where you are. He won’t fire you. You’re the most productive person on that team and everyone knows it,” he says. “He’d be an idiot to let you go. You’d just walk right over to their competition and then they’d be really screwed.”

She rolls her eyes. Tommy is no different from Oliver in some regards. They both seriously overestimate her worth. Tommy still thinks she’s a genius because she set up their WiFi in the apartment without having to call anyone.

Of course, she is a genius, but setting up WiFi isn’t why.

“I’ve rented a private boat for island hopping. I booked you some museum tours, since you’re a nerd. I’ll be at the beach. We’re both going to do the night life. Get scuba certified. Zip line. The works.”

“I’m sorry. Scuba certified?” she says, hoping she’d heard him wrong.

“Yes. I’m doing elephants for you. We’re doing scuba for me. Ollie and I were supposed to get certified over Christmas in the Philippines, and… well…”

Felicity sighs. Well she can hardly say no now, even though she can already tell that going scuba diving is just tempting fate. She is far too uncoordinated for something like that. She’s bound to do something wrong and get eaten by a shark or something.

“Relax. I won’t let anything happen to you,” Tommy says. “Oliver gave me strict instructions before he left to take care of you, and he’ll kill me if he finds out I ever got a single scratch on you.”

“You say that like I’m a Maserati.”

“Hardly. A Maserati I could fix,” Tommy says. “I can’t buy a new Felicity Smoak.”

Felicity rolls her eyes. She’d argue his point, but she knows Oliver well enough to know that Tommy’s not exaggerating. He’s a bit of a caveman in some ways. He probably would kill Tommy if anything ever happened to her.

****

Starling City 2012

Tommy comes out of his bedroom to find Oliver at his kitchen table eating breakfast and looking at something on Felicity’s tablet. He’s surprised to see him here, since Felicity should already be at work. Not that he’s not happy to see his friend. Ollie’s been back for about a month, but Tommy still feels like he’s going to wake up at any moment and find out this has all been a giant hallucination.

“Good morning,” Tommy says.

“Morning,” Oliver responds, distracted by whatever he’s doing on the tablet.

Tommy glances over Oliver’s shoulder on the way to the kitchen to see what he’s looking at. He’s surprised to see him skimming through Felicity’s Facebook profile. He’s always hated social media.

Tommy starts the coffee maker and helps himself to one of the pieces of bacon Oliver cooked.

“You two got in late,” he comments as he leans back against the counter and waits for his coffee to finish brewing. He’d been out with some friends last night and when he’d gotten in around 2am, nobody was home. He’d suspected they’d just spent the night at Oliver’s place, but he’d heard them talking earlier this morning when Felicity was getting ready for work.

“Felicity has been helping me work at the club,” he says, finally putting the tablet down.

“You’re asking Felicity for advice on opening a nightclub?” Tommy says, amused. “I love our girl, but I doubt she has any good advice on how to make a nightclub successful.”

“No,” Oliver says with a laugh. “But she knows how to put together a business plan and a budget. I need to show my mother that I’m working on a legitimate business so she’ll stop pushing me to come work at QC.”

“Ah, numbers and budgets. Zero fun. That sounds more like Felicity,” Tommy says, grabbing his cup of coffee and a few more pieces of bacon before sitting down at the table.

“I don’t know, it looks like you’ve had a lot of fun with Felicity,” Oliver says, pushing the tablet towards him so that Tommy can see the picture he’s pulled up. It’s the one of the two of them at the elephant sanctuary in Thailand.

Tommy smiles at the memory. It’s one of the few happy times he can remember during Oliver’s five long years away when everything went to hell.

“We’ve had our moments,” he says. “I brought her to Thailand back then to help her forget about the fact that you’d been gone for a year. I remembered you’d said she liked elephants, so...”

He gestures to the picture, as it says it all. Apart from the day Felicity had bought that new geeky supercomputer or whatever it was, he’s never seen her more genuinely excited then the day she’d touched an elephant. Even when Oliver had returned, there’d been enough fear and anxiety over seeing him after so long to dampen her excitement.

“She used to be obsessed with them,” Oliver say. “Don’t you remember when she first moved here and her wardrobe was like 90% elephants?”

“Only you remember that kind of stuff,” Tommy says. “Which is why you’re dating her and I’m just the obnoxious best friend.”

“Yeah,” Oliver says with a sigh, looking off to the distance, lost in thought.

Tommy doesn’t know what happened to Oliver during those five years away. It’s easier to joke about him being a castaway than it is to think about the reality that his friend had to face. But there are times where it’s clear that Oliver isn’t the same guy that he was when he left. He’s a lot quieter now. More pensive.

Tommy doesn’t know what to say to him when he gets like this.

“You’re her best friend now,” Oliver says, sounding sad.

“I was a poor replacement for you,” Tommy reassures him.

“I’m glad that you both had each other.”

Tommy sends him a doubtful look. He doesn’t seem that thrilled about how close Felicity and him are. He’s gotten the impression a few times that Oliver is tempted to throw him through a window whenever Tommy gets too close to Felicity. There was a particularly memorable moment last week when Tommy commented on how Felicity’s ass looked in one of her dresses, that Tommy thought Oliver may actually do it. His glare was so intense that Tommy thought it’d probably scare off even the Hood Guy that’s running around Starling.

Oliver’s always been a jealous guy when it comes to Felicity. Tommy still remembers the night Oliver found out Felicity lost her virginity their senior year of high school — it had been Felicity’s first year in college since she’d graduated early. Tommy had to talk Oliver off the ledge and convince him not to skip school and hop the first plane to Boston to defend her honor. After all, having sex was something college kids did all the time — that the two of them had been doing regularly for a few years — and Oliver was going to have to either man up and confess his feelings for her or get used to plenty more stories about Felicity hooking up with other guys.

“I am,” Oliver says, nodding like he’s trying to convince himself. “I was all alone on that island and I know what it’s like to be lonely. I wouldn’t have wanted that for you both. Sometimes, it’s just hard to know that the world kept spinning without me.”

“Not because any of us wanted it to,” Tommy says. “There were many days that the only thing that got me out of bed was that promise you had me make before you left to look after Felicity.”

“Thank you.”

Tommy shakes his head. “You don’t have to thank me for that. She’s been way better for me than I’ve ever been for her.”

“I doubt that’s true,” Oliver says with a sad smile. “You’re a good friend, Tommy. And she needed somebody that was going to make sure she didn’t spend her life stuck behind a computer screen.”

Tommy nods his head in agreement. Felicity is too serious for her own good a lot of the time. If he didn’t drag her out of the house, she’d probably never leave it. Of course, now that she’s dating Oliver, she’s spending fewer nights at home on the couch.

“I know I’ve said this to Felicity, but I wanted to tell you, I’m really glad you guys finally got your act together.”

“Me, too,” Oliver says with a smile and the largest heart eyes that Tommy’s ever seen. “Felicity’s amazing… What about you? Seeing anyone?”

Tommy’s thoughts immediately go to Laurel, but he quickly shakes his head. Oliver still doesn’t know about Laurel. Tommy doesn’t know how to bring it up. He’s not even sure if there’s a reason to bring it up anymore. Laurel won’t give him the time of day.

Tommy had seen her last week at Poison when he’d gone out with some of his friends — He’d originally planned on going with Oliver as ‘research,’ but he’d ditched Tommy in favor of a quiet night in with Felicity. Tommy’d talked with Laurel for a little bit, but she hadn’t budged. Normally, she’d tell him that they were over, but after enough talking and hanging out, she’d change her tune. This time is different. This time, he’s worried they may be done for good. Finished before they ever really got a chance to get anywhere.

“You’re not seeing someone or someone isn’t seeing you?” Oliver asks with a knowing look.

Tommy’s heart sinks as he realizes that Oliver already knows.

“Who told you?”

“Nobody had to tell me,” Oliver says.

Of course they hadn’t. Oliver knows Tommy better than anyone else in the world. Or, at least, he had. Why had he ever thought he’d be able to keep this a secret from him?

“I’m sorry,” Tommy says, feeling awful. “It never should have happened. I know that you were with her before you left and me being with her violated our friendship in about 50 different ways.”

“Tommy,” Oliver cuts him off. “I was dead.”

“You weren’t,” Tommy says, shaking his head. He can’t allow Oliver to let him off the hook for this one. He’s always known how wrong it was for him to even look at Laurel, let alone fall in love with her like he has.

At first, he was just seeking her comfort on the nights that he didn’t think he’d be able to stay clean. Having sex with her was bad, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as falling off the wagon would have been. At least, that was how he justified it to himself. But all too soon, he’d fallen in love with Laurel and being with her became more addicting than any narcotic had ever been.

Still. It was wrong and he shouldn’t have done it. He’s a horrible friend.

“Laurel and I… I never should have been with her,” Oliver says. “I was in love with Felicity and it wasn’t fair to Laurel. She deserves better. If that’s you, then I’m happy for you guys.”

“It’s not me,” Tommy says. “I’m not good enough for her… I want to be, but I’m not. Which is why she won’t give me the time of day anymore.”

Oliver looks pensive for about a minute, before he sighs deeply.

“You know Felicity gets insecure sometimes about the amount of women I’ve been with,” Oliver says.

Tommy nods. He knows this. She’s told him as much when she’s asking his advice about what to wear on a date or begging for tips on how to keep Oliver’s attention. As if she needs any tricks. She’s had Oliver’s full attention since the day she stepped onto the playground in first grade.

“You and I… We haven’t given women a lot of reason to trust us,” Oliver says. “So you can’t really blame them for questioning our commitment to them. As Laurel has informed me, I’ve caused her a lot of pain. She’s probably just worried about getting hurt.”

“What do I do?” Tommy asks. “I’m serious about her, Ollie. More serious about her than I’ve ever been about anyone or anything.”

“Have you told her that?” he asks.

“I’ve tried. She doesn’t believe me,” he says with a shrug. The situation is hopeless.

“Then keep trying. Once she sees that you’re not giving up… That you’re serious, she’ll come around.”

“You think so?” he asks, perking up. Oliver has known Laurel for a long time. If he thinks there’s hope, maybe there is.

“You’re a good guy, Tommy,” Oliver says. “Once she’s able to see past the public face of Tommy Merlyn, she’ll come around.”

“Hopefully sooner rather than later,” Tommy says. “I haven’t had sex in weeks trying to prove I’m good enough for her. It’s getting to be a sad state of affairs.”

Oliver laughs. “I probably wouldn’t lead with that when you talk to her.”

Tommy shakes his head. No. Oliver is probably right.

He’s also probably complaining to the wrong person. Oliver spent 5 years alone on an island. Up until recently, he’d gone a lot longer than a few weeks without getting laid.

Tommy takes their plates and mugs to the sink and rinses them out before putting them in the dishwasher.

“Did you have any plans for the day?” Tommy asks once he’s all done cleaning up the kitchen.

Oliver shakes his head.

“Perfect,” Tommy says. “It’s been getting way too serious in here. Let’s go see what kind of trouble we can stir up.”

“So long as you let me drive,” Oliver says, standing up and pulling his keys out of his pocket.

As they are walking to the car, Oliver turns to him with a mischievous smile.

“What?”

“Felicity told me about scuba diving,” he says and Tommy’s stomach instantly sinks.

If Felicity told him about scuba diving, he knows that Tommy’s the reason Felicity almost went deaf, busted open her leg, and nearly cracked open her skull.

“Listen, Ollie… I can explain…”

“No explanation necessary,” Oliver says. His tone sounds like it’s no big deal, but his face says the opposite.

“Ollie—”

“Nope,” Oliver cuts him off. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tommy says in disbelief, trying to figure out just how mad Oliver actually is about what is now called ‘The Infamous Scuba Diving Incident.’

“Yeah. It’s fine. Accidents happen,” Oliver says, brushing him off with a wave of his hand.

“Right, accidents happen,” Tommy says, nodding along. There’s no way he’s getting off that easy. Is he? “That’s all it was. An accident. Felicity is prone to those.”

They get in the car and Oliver turns to look at him. “Oh, but Tommy?”

“Yeah…” he says slowly, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“What is it they say? An eye for an eye?” he says with a laugh that makes Tommy’s blood run cold.

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

“Do I want to know?” he asks, tentatively, knowing Oliver won’t ever truly hurt him, but that doesn’t mean much. There are far worse things he can do to get even with him.

Well, fuck.

Oliver’s laugh isn’t making him any more relaxed.

“When I do get you back… and rest assured, I will,” Oliver says. “You’ll never see it coming.”

Tagged/Untagged? Let me know!

@acheaptrickandacheesyoneline // @almondblossomme // @arrowandolicity // @bifelicitys// @bushlaboo // @canadianheartgirl // @cinfos // @dettiot // @dyedblondefelicity // @emisfritish // @emmaamelia95 // @eternal-olicity // @eunaosoumodelo // @evil-limace// @felicity-said–yes// @flowerandsunshine​ // @geniewithwifi // @goliverfelicity // @green-arrows-of-karamel // @hope-for-olicity // @it-was-a-red-heeler // @itsakatemus// @itsthatwallflower // @just-arrow // @karenanderson32 // @loveyoubeyondhope // @memcjo // @miriam1779 // @missyriver // @morganashimi83 // @mtb1002 // @olicitylovemaking // @oliverfel4 // @pleasantfanandstudent // @pottercastleminds // @puddintan3 // @realityisoverrated-fic​ // @relativelyobsessedfangirl // @scu11y22 // @somewhatinvisible // @sonrisaentejas // @sovvannight // @spaztronautwriter // @speakandseethetruth // @sweetdawn129// @sweettooth5 // @tennesseeyouaregoodtome// @wetsuiton

#arrow fic #olicity fic #childhood best friends trope #friends to lovers #home verse #arrow fanfiction #olicity smut

[jarienn972]

Mirrored - Chapter Five

I am so sorry to anyone who was following this story!  It was my first fan fic story for this fandom and being a Tumblr newbie, I thought I had the remaining chapters queued correctly, but oops - I found out they never posted.  I reblogged chapter one with links to Chapters 2-4 for anyone who wants to get caught up but here is Chapter 5.  There will be 8 total and I will get them up on the site by the end of the week.

Complete story on FF.net and AO3.

From the beginning on Tumblr: Chapter One  Chapter Two  Chapter Three  Chapter Four

After nearly twenty agonizing minutes, Whale finally emerged from Killian's room. Neither Snow nor David could get a read on his expression as he approached them. Behind him, they could see one of the nurses reopening the curtain but from the angle where they were standing, they weren't able to see inside.

"Well?" David asked impatiently.

"We were able to get him stabilized," Whale replied. "I've given him an anti-convulsive medication that will help control the seizures and we were able to get his fever down to under 102 degrees. It's still higher than I'd like to see, but at least it's in a safer range."

"Oh thank goodness," Snow breathed a sigh of relief.

"Let's not get too excited," Whale continued. "We still don't know how much time this bought us. If someone doesn't come up with the antidote pretty soon, we may be just prolonging the inevitable."

"You don't know Killian the way we do. He's going to fight this with everything he's got," Snow stated, if for nothing else than to make herself feel better.

"I surely hope that you're right," Whale said, "because he's still got one heck of a fight ahead of him. I did increase the sedatives so he's back into a deep sleep again, but he was having such a difficult time breathing that I had to make the decision to put him on a ventilator. If you're not familiar with that machine, it basically is one that breathes for him by way of a tube placed down into his windpipe. I wanted to warn you because it might be a little disconcerting, but there really wasn't another option."

"Thank you," Snow told him, now really unsure of what to expect. "Are we able to go back in to see him now?"

Whale nodded. "I'll check on him periodically throughout the night. Let me know as soon as you see or hear from Emma though. I'm going to need to speak to her."

"We will," David assured him as Whale left them, heading off down another corridor. He had a very good idea of what Whale needed to discuss with Emma, but he tried not to think about it as he again wrapped his arm around Snow, pulling her in tight to him. "It's going to be alright," he said. "I can't believe that I'm saying this, but I trust Regina. She's going to find the right flower to make the antidote."

"For Emma and Killian's sake, I sure hope so," Snow said as they stepped back up to the glass wall and peered into the room before stepping inside. Even with Whale's warning, Snow gasped a little at the sight before them. The doctor had not been exaggerating when he'd said that the sight of Killian being aided by the ventilator would be troubling, but it wasn't just that. The whole scene disturbed her. Neither of them said a word as they stepped through the doorway, not because they feared waking him but rather out of pure shock.

Finding the reality of the plastic tube extending from the corner of his mouth and connecting to multiple other intimidating looking tubing and hoses a bit much to take in, Snow found herself unable to even look at Killian's face, instead noting the minor details. A small square gauze bandage had been taped to his chest, covering the puncture wound Whale's syringe had inflicted when injecting the anti-convulsive drug. The back of his hand was also bandaged as it had bled when the IV needle was torn loose. A new IV was taped securely in place to the inside of his wrist, directly over the old tattoo of Milah's name.

"It's after one AM," David began, sensing her tension. "I'm wide awake now. I'll stay until Emma gets back. Why don't you head home and get some sleep?"

"I feel like I should stay though. What if Emma needs me?"

"Then I will call you," he assured her. "Go home. Try to sleep. I promise to let you know if anything changes."

"Alright," she sighed, giving him a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. "Please let me know when you talk to Emma. I don't care what time it is."

"I promise," he replied, not sure exactly how long that might be. He'd hoped that she would have at least sent a text message by now. Clearly she was fixated on finding this rouge pirate, but with each minute that went by, he became more concerned.

***************************************

This time, Killian knew where he was before he was even able to open his eyes. The welcoming scent of the marine air embraced him like an old friend; the sound of waves striking the dock and sails flapping in the breeze were like music to this pirate's ears.

"All hands on deck, Pirate!"

There was that sweet little voice again, he thought as he opened his eyes to find himself standing on the deck of the Jolly Roger.

"Is that any way to talk to the Captain of this vessel?" he smiled, seeing only the very top of a blonde head and two tiny hands above the helm. Laughing as he ascended the steps to the navigation deck, he saw Maeve poised on her tiptoes trying to maneuver the huge wheel. Thankfully, they were still moored in the harbor or who knows where they'd be now.

"You told me that a proper pirate princess should know how to captain her own ship," she stated firmly.

"And so she shall," he replied, sliding a storage trunk across the deck for her to stand on. He hoisted her up atop the trunk and guided her hands to the proper position on the helm. "Tell me where we're navigating to today, Captain?"

"The Enchanted Forest."

"Then off we shall go. Twenty degrees to starboard!"

Without any guidance from him, she turned the huge wheel clockwise. Child after his own heart. Part of him actually wanted to cast off the moorings, but not knowing exactly how things worked in this dream world, he felt it best to stay put in the harbor.

"Calm seas ahead," she giggled, turning to give him a huge hug that felt so real that for a moment, he nearly forgot that he was only dreaming.

**************************************

Now after four AM, Emma had been all over town in search of Devereaux Sinclair, leaving her physically and emotionally exhausted. She'd give the pirate credit – she knew how to hide, but if she really wanted to trade the mirror for the antidote, being evasive didn't make much sense. It was almost as though this were just a part of some sick game that Emma really didn't want to play. Whatever history Devereaux and Killian had, it was pretty evident that they hadn't ended things on good terms – at least not from Devereaux's perspective. Killian didn't appear to be bothered by whatever was implied, possibly having forgiven her enough to let her go earlier. Devereaux was another story. Maybe she was just a sociopathic crazed lunatic. No matter what, Emma was determined to get answers out of her and hopefully, the antidote too, - assuming Devereaux even really had it and this wasn't just another ploy in her game.

But nagging in the back of Emma's head was a lingering bit of guilt. If she hadn't been engaged in such a long meeting with Regina discussing that stupid compact, she would have already been back at her office before Devereaux broke in. It would have been a very different confrontation had she been there. The pain in the ass pirate would already be behind bars and Killian wouldn't be fighting for his life in a hospital bed.

Of course, she knew that second guessing herself wasn't going to help them right now. Hindsight was always perfectly clear when the present and future were muddy. She had to focus so, as she sat in her car parked on the street in front of the Sheriff's station, she reminded herself of the task at hand. It was at that moment that she felt the weight of Killian's hook, still tucked securely inside her jacket as she'd wanted to keep part of him close to her heart. She lifted it from her pocket and held it lovingly in her palm for a few seconds, long enough for a tear to escape the corner of her eye and drift down her cheek. Only a few hours ago, they'd been happily strolling arm in arm along the waterfront and then Devereaux Sinclair and her damned mirror crossed their path…

The mirror.

Why hadn't she thought of this before now? With a flash of realization, Emma placed the hook on the seat next to her as she dug into a different pocket to locate the compact. It had shown her a vision earlier, and if Regina was to be believed and this compact really could function as a crystal ball, perhaps she could get it to give her some clue as to where Sinclair was hiding.

"Wonder how you get this crazy thing to work?" she asked herself as she pressed the button to open the compact. Seeing her own reflection – bloodshot eyes and weary, gaunt face - all she was seeing was her own face. "Come on," she pleaded with it. "You showed me something before. Do it again."

She nearly regretted asking for the object's help as the first fuzzy image came to life in the bottom mirror because what it showed her was a view of Killian laying deathly still in the hospital bed with her mother seated by his side. It reacts to emotion, she thought. She'd been sad when she picked it up and worrying about Killian, so it gave her an image of him. She needed to change emotion and think about what Devereaux made her feel.

Anger.

Anger and frustration.

Channeling those emotions, the image in the bottom mirror began to change. The shadow of a female form came into view, at first only a dark profile. Emma needed more though. She needed something to identify where Devereaux might be and as the scene played out on the tiny mirror before her, a familiar setting was displayed in the background.

Her office.

Devereaux had apparently been interrupted early in her search when Killian found her and she had returned to continue her search for the mirror, apparently (and incorrectly) assuming that Emma would be entirely preoccupied with him. But how recent was this image? This may have been from earlier in the evening and there was a good possibility that she was long gone – a possibility that vanished as Emma spied a flash of light that flickered between the blinds on the station's front window.

A flashlight – and in the misty image displayed on the mirror, Devereaux was holding a flashlight.

She was still inside.

Emma snapped the compact closed as she pushed open the door of her little VW bug and stepped out into the street. Time to show this little pirate wench that you don't mess with the sheriff or her family in this town. She stormed up to the front door and – taking a page from Regina's playbook – blasted it open with magic. No use being subtle, Emma thought to herself as the door flew off the hinges. She didn't care if it had to be repaired later.

She wanted to make an ENTRANCE.

"I know you're here, pirate," Emma shouted, "and you can quit searching. You won't find your mirror in my office or anywhere else in this station because its right here in my hand!"

"That was quite a display," Devereaux replied as her head lifted above Emma's desk and into view through the glass partition. "I may have underestimated you, Sheriff. You have me at a bit of a disadvantage as I'm not a practitioner of magic."

"Step out of my office and give me the antidote."

"Hand over my mirror and we'll negotiate."

"This isn't up for negotiation," Emma stated as she waved her hand to close and lock the side door to her office, leaving Devereaux with only one path out. "Where's the widowsbane antidote?"

"Yeah…that…," Devereaux laughed, stepping through the door frame with an almost sadistic smile on her lips. "I kinda left it back on my ship."

"Then let's take a little trip out to your ship so you can get it."

"You think it's that easy?" Devereaux grinned. "Unless you happen to know of a portal back to the Enchanted Forest, it won't be an easy jaunt."

"I thought you told Killian that you arrived here by your ship being blown off course in a storm?"

"Not exactly. I got here through a portal after stealing a few magic beans from a sorcerer so that I could find a way back to the Jolly Roger."

"Why were you searching for the Jolly Roger?" Emma wondered.

"Because it's the last place I saw an object I've been hunting for a very long time. I'm sure by now you've opened the compact and since you obviously have magic, you know what it is."

"A looking glass."

"Exactly! A looking glass that came straight from the shores of Wonderland, but it was missing its handle. The last place I saw what I believed was the handle before the Queen's curse struck was aboard the Jolly Roger. Hook blocked me from taking it years ago and I've been searching the realms for it ever since. Little did I know that it had been brought to this strange new land."

"It's what you were after in the safe this afternoon, wasn't it?"

"Aye, and it's what I went back to search for again after our encounter here in your office. Damned if I could figure out how to open that safe though. I'll give him credit for that one…"

"Encounter? That's what you're calling it? You poisoned him!" Emma patience had waned and her face flushed crimson with anger.

"It really wasn't personal. I needed a diversion and it was a perfect one to keep him off of the ship, and of course I thought it would keep you busy, pining at his side. As I said, I may have underestimated you."

"You honestly thought that poisoning him with a deadly toxin was just a tactical diversion?!" Emma had had just about enough of Devereaux's cold, smug attitude.

"Just business," Devereaux responded nonchalantly. "Yours is upholding the law, mine is breaking it." She held up a tiny glass vial that appeared to contain the same purple dust that had been all over both Killian's skin and clothing as well as Emma's office earlier. "Now, I'd like my mirror back, if you please or I'll throw this. Think your magic is fast enough to stop a cloud of toxic dust from spreading?"

"Yeah, I do," Emma replied and with a quick wave of her hand, the vial vanished from Devereaux's palm and rematerialized in Emma's possession. "And now I'm done dealing with you."

Emma tapped into her rage and frustration, flinging Devereaux into the wall then quickly got a magical grip around the pirate's throat, dragging her out of the office without ever actually laying a finger on her.

"What are you going to do – kill me?" Devereaux asked when Emma loosened her grip around her neck. "Go ahead. I know your type. You can't do it…"

"I have no intention of killing you. You're not getting off that easy." Emma waved her hand again to cause the iron barred door of the holding cell to swing open, then with one more flourish, tossed Devereaux across the room and into the cell. The pirate slammed hard into the concrete block wall, then slid slowly down to the bare concrete floor as the door slammed shut before her.

"You can tell Captain Hook I said goodbye," Devereaux spat. "Because unless he knows where the handle is, he'll never get the antidote."

"And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"With the handle attached, supposedly the looking glass gains the ability to open portals. It might be the only way to get to the antidote on my ship because you won't get it any other way."

"Guess it's a good thing that Regina is already working on a batch of the antidote then."

"Regina? The Evil Queen? If she told you that she can make the antidote here then she lied to you. There isn't a way to make the antidote here because the flower needed to brew it doesn't grow in this land." As Devereaux began to laugh over the realization that Emma had actually believed the Evil Queen's words, Emma threw her one more time, slamming her into the cell's tiny, bare cot.

"I'll be back to deal with you later, Sinclair. And just so you don't get any ideas about trying to break out…," Emma sealed the cell lock with her magic so the pirate wouldn't have any dreams of picking it. She then backed away, leaving the station with its door still laying on the floor. No one else would be crazy enough to break into a Sheriff's station anyway.

Right now, she needed to calm herself. She was angry that Regina had lied about the antidote and now that she'd learned that Devereaux didn't have it either, she was scared. Climbing back into her car, her eyes were immediately drawn to the shiny steel of Killian's hook as it reflected the street light above her. She had every right to be upset and Regina had a lot of explaining to do but right now, all she could think of was that she needed to be at his side – no matter what the outcome may be.

***************************************

Hours into their research, the mountains of books had now spilled off of the library table into the floor and as dawn approached, Regina was growing increasingly frustrated. There had to be something. She refused to believe that with all of the flowers and plants in this land, there wouldn't be one that was related to a thimble flower. So far though, while she had found numerous references to thimble flowers, nothing mentioned anything outside of the Enchanted Forest.

"All of this is really beginning to make me hate flowers," Regina stated, slamming the cover of the book in front of her closed.

"Regina, please – many of these books are delicate. Could you please show them a little respect?" Belle's concern was genuine, but right now, Regina was really to tired to care.

"Are we looking in the right place?" Regina wondered.

"We are. There just aren't a lot of books that cover multiple realms, but I found this old journal that might be useful." Belle strolled over to the library table and showed Regina an ancient, sheepskin bound personal journal with a battered cover and pages that were brittle and yellowed. "It's the personal notes of an alchemist who used portals to travel through many different realms collecting flowers, plants and other items for his experiments and potions."

Regina's interest was piqued.

"Any mention of thimble flowers?"

"Not yet, but I'm only a few pages in. Its actually quite fascinating."

"Fascinating is wonderful. Relevant would be better." Sarcasm was flowing freely now as Regina was growing more weary and fatigued. "Let me know if you find anything useful."

Regina grabbed the next book from the stack and turned her attention toward it. Time was running short and so was her patience. She was ready to turn a toad into a thimble flower, but she knew it wouldn't work. Hell, she was ready to turn Devereaux Sinclair into a toad – and maybe she would after Emma got done with her. Maybe something lower than a toad? A cockroach perhaps so she could savor the satisfying squish under her heel?

But first she had to find something to make the antidote or things were going to get really challenging in this town. The last place she wanted to find herself was standing directly in front of a pissed off Emma Swan.

#cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fan fiction #captain swan ff #mirrored #sorry it took so long

[charlieharry1]

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I’m not the arena’s biggest rollercoaster fan, if i’m honest. And it became cold. However buddies desired to go, so i went along  Digital Marketing Company Bristol for the trip (pun supposed). As i used to be queuing, stamping my ft and clutching a £5 cup of espresso to keep warm, i realised i used to be taking part in myself in spite of the odds. And it struck me that online marketers should research a few critical training from this state of affairs. Consequently this blog post. So right here are 3 classes subject parks can educate you approximately proper ecommerce sites. 1. Make it easy to get round

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[weirdstuff-blog]

Sleeping

Note: this photo was published in an Aug 5, 2008 NowPublic blog entitled "Waiting for iPhone 3g." It was also published in a Mar 25, 2010 Wikimedia Commons blog with the title "File:Sleeping-1-dot-jpg." It was also published in a Nov 8, 2008 blog titled "The Importance of Sleep to Teenagers." And it was published in a Jul 6, 2010 blog titled "Keep Dreaming, Kid: Rhode Island High School Tells Students to Sleep In." It was also published in a Sep 8, 2010 blog titled "Sleep less than 6 hours a night? Hello, diabetes…" And it was published ina Dec 21, 2010 blog titled "Not Just for Kids — the Surprising Health Issues of Midlife Women.."

The photo was also published in a Feb 7, 2011 blog titled "40代の心の危機." And it was published in a May 25, 2011 Cool iPhone images blog, with the same caption and detailed notes that I had written on this Flickr page. It was also published in a May 27, 2011 "The Daily Sleep" blog in a posting titled "Too Much Going On In Teen Life." And it was published in a Jun 29, 2011 Cool Sleep Importance Issues blog, with the same caption and detailed notes I had written on this Flickr page. It was also published in an undated (early Jul 2011) blog titled "5 Reasons Sleep Affects Your Fitness." And it was published in a Sep 16, 2011 Slate blog posting titled "Le bonheur appartient à ceux qui se lèvent tôt." It was also published in an Oct 12, 2011 blog titled "Donne e problemi notturni/1: il cervello lavora fino a tardy." And it was published in a Nov 28, 2011 blog titled "How to Perfect Your Sleep Cycle." It was also published in a Dec 15, 2011 blog titled "Dormi più di dieci ore per notte? Leggi qui."

Moving into 2012, the photo was published in an undated (late Jan 2012) blog titled "Serial dilution, or … How to Count to a Million." It was also published in a Feb 6, 2012 blog titled "t10 Reasons It’s Awesome to Be an Insomniac." And it was published in a Feb 20, 2012 "Mag for Women" blog titled "6 Signs of Sleep Deprivation." It was also published in a May 23, 2012 blog titled "Sleep Bot, la aplicación que le ayudará a tener dulcet sueños." And it was published in an undated (early Jun 2012) blog titled "効果的な予防策は？" It was also published in a Jun 15, 2012 blog titled "Dormir pouco pode aumentar consumo de comidas gordurosas, did estudo." And it was published in an undated (mid-Jun 2012) blog titled "I RIMEDI NATURALI PER LA PRESSIONE BASSA." And it was published in a Jun 14, 2012 blog titled "Dormir pouco pode aumentar consumo de comidas gordurosas, diz estudo." It was also published in a Jun 30, 2012 blog titled "Nice Healthy Gadgets photos." And it was published in a Jul 18, 2012 blog titled "How Much Sleep Do You Need To Keep Your Memory Sharp?" It was also published in an Aug 31, 2012 blog titled "Crampi allo stomaco notturni, quali sono i rimedi." And it was published in an Oct 20, 2012 blog titled "Sonno e salute, ecco 9 motivi per dormire di più." It was also published in a Nov 24, 2012 blog titled Scoperto l’antidoto all’ipersonnia, aiuterà la Bella Addormentata? And it was published in a Dec 10, 2012 blog titled "OCD and Sleep."

Moving into 2013, the photo was published in an undated (late Feb 2013) blog titled "I RIMEDI NATURALI PER LA PRESSIONE BASSA." It was also published in a Mar 5, 2013 blog titled "Gros dormeurs : le gouvernement vote le passage aux 25 heures," as well as a Mar 13, 2013 blog titled "Student health and effects of sleep deprivation: Best study habits include adequate sleep," as well as a Mar 26, 2013 blog titled "How to Help Your Teen Get a Good Night’s Sleep." And it was published in an Apr 8, 2013 blog titled "WHAT DO I DO IF I CAN’T GET ALONG WITH MY TRAVEL BUDDY?" It was also published in a May 25, 2013 blog titled "Feeling Sleep Deprived? Blame Facebook," as well as a Jul 29, 2013 blog titled "Nefarious NapStealers and the Importance of Sleep." And it was published in a Sep 5, 2013 blog titled "Should High Schools Have Later Start Times?"

***********************************************

Silly me: after the iPhone 3g had been out for a full week, I thought I could stroll right into the Apple Store on Fifth Avenue & 59th Street in mid-town Manhattan, and simply buy one without any muss, fuss, bother, or delay.

But when I arrived at 11 AM, I found a line of approximately 150 people waiting outside in the broiling sun, not seeming to move forward at all; it turned out that the Apple store "concierge" folks were letting them in in groups of ten, when the previous ten had been taken care of. When I asked the woman how long she had been waiting, she said, "Four hours" — she had arrived at 7 AM, having already determined that the AT&T stores were sold out throughout New Jersey and Connecticut.

Well, I’m a gadget freak and a Mac fan, but there’s a limit to my passion for such things; four hours was just too much. So instead, I decided to take a bunch of pictures of the people who were in the line. Of course, I have no idea whethere the people queued up in front of Apple stores in other cities (or at other stores here in NYC) are similar to this group … but I’m inclined to think that they are. And if that’s true, then the demographics of this group — in terms of age, gender, nationality, ethnic groups, etc. — is particularly intriguing. I saw only one guy dressed in a corporate uniform of suit and tie; Apple may be trying to break into the "enterprise" market, but that’s not who was standing in line for all those hours in the sun…

Posted by Ed Yourdon on 2008-07-19 03:47:17

Tagged: , Apple , iPhone , iPhone 3g , Manhattan , New York , sleeping , sleeper , nap , doze , barefoot , asleep , young woman

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