(( and that barbs will be donna ))

2

David Tennant’s Contributions to Doctor Who Episodes
Silence in the Library “Scanning a Planet” Edition

Excerpt from the Silence in the Library DVD commentary track

Steven Moffat: I expanded this a bit [scene toward the beginning of the episode with the Doctor and Donna talking in the library], which set off David on some whole thing about the sonic screwdriver

David Tennant: Oh yeah… [laughs]

Steven Moffat: I get a message saying, “David is worried about whether or not the sonic screwdriver could do that”

Julie Gardner:  …and you were like “shut up, they’re extra pages!”

Steven Moffat:  You think, “He’s working hard, the boy” isn’t he?  I mean it could mend barbed wire and light candles…  It’s a bit late to object..

David Tennant:  Well we changed it, didn’t we?  Because at one point the idea was I stick the sonic screwdriver up in the air and it took a sound reading of the whole planet!  I just queried if we were stretching it…

Excerpt from David Tennant’s Panel at AwesomeCon in D.C. (June 2017)

David Tennant:  It’s always interesting, the relationship between real science and the science of science fiction.  I think it works best, on Doctor Who, even though you’re talking about time travel which doesn’t necessarily exist yet, or things that we might aspire to, or things that we can dream of, it works best when it seems credible.  When you can just about imagine that we might be able to get there one day. Everyone has their own threshold for that, I suppose.  […]  If it gets too preposterous, it takes you out of it [the story].  I think that’s quite a tricky thing to navigate. Occasionally I bump up against it myself.  I remember in the library story, there was this point where, with the sonic screwdriver, in 1 second I had to scan the entire planet.  I thought, yeah it can mend barbed wire, I’ll buy that, but scan an entire planet in 1 second? Or should we just use that computer monitor over there - somehow for me that felt a little bit more… I can buy that, I can just about stretch to that.  But that was my own particular threshold.

Orig.Poster’s note: This post is part of a series on some of the contributions that David made to episodes of Doctor Who, because he sometimes gets questions about ad-libs or input he may have had to episodes, but he tends to not take credit for his various additions/suggestions - so I figured I’d list some for him. This instance is an example of David questioning the believably of a particular plot point, and others agreeing with him and changing the story due to David’s good idea (and I agree with David - that is a bit much to ask of the sonic, particularly when you’re on a planet that has a giant computer at its core - a computer that easily could be linked to sensors scattered over the planet’s surface to determine the current attendance/population). 

Full set of David’s Contributions Posts (tag):
Bigger on the Inside Edition
Walking on Theatre Chairs Edition
Scanning a Planet Edition
Shakespeare Code Bedroom Edition
Interrupting Jackie Edition
Sarah Jane Smith Edition
Stone Arm Edition
Hand in a Jar Edition
Killing the Vespiform Edition

Forever at Odds: Part 2~Forever out of Place

So after some encouragement from @wherethereissmoak and @tdgal1 I’ve chosen to take the weekly Olicity Hiatus Fic-a-thon prompts and, use them to continue this fic. It should be fun challenge so thanks again to @thebookjumper for organizing this weekly event! 

So here’s my entry for this week’s prompt Out of place! 

Read it here or on AO3

Part 2~ Forever out of place

“I can’t believe you sold me like a common whore,” Felicity roared as the doors behind her slammed darkly.

Her mother’s ice cold eyes sneered at her daughter’s chosen defiance. She crossed the room and, reached for the only book Felicity had ever bothered to read more than once from cover to cover. The aged leather binding cracked beneath her mother’s skillful hands. “We have a job to do or have you forgotten the vow you took when you turned eighteen?” her mother warned almost somberly as she threw the book towards the center of the oval shaped room. The red and, black curtains whipped about the walls while the elder witch used the still air of the stale room to create a funnel at the base of the dome shaped ceiling. 

Felicity watched unimpressed while her mother swept her hands wildly until the funnel cloud began to take it’s cylindrical shape. The book remained frozen at the center of the cyclone hovering innocently while a foolish woman used her gifts to throw a tantrum.

“If you think I’m going to be scared into agreeing you’ve forgotten I’m next in line,” Felicity snarled as her own fingers flew towards the raging storm.

Her mother’s eyes darkened, “Yes next…” she growled before she forced the invented storm to rage outwards towards her daughter’s waiting form.

Felicity blocked the deadly lightning strike with a flick of her beautiful blue eyes. Donna’s lips fell in shock when Felicity then raised her outstretched palms and cried darkly towards the turbulence above their hands, “ENOUGH!” The roaring thunder and drizzling rain vanished. The dark hardwood boards of the ceiling returned to view as the elder blonde stood before her daughter flummoxed.

“How?” she mouthed a bit proudly.

Felicity tilted her head towards her outstretched hand, the hovering book flew towards her waiting fingers. Her satisfied smile grew when she innocently replied, “Some books I didn’t need to read more than once…”

Donna’s frozen eyes began beaming with un-caged pride. “You do understand what we have to gain don’t you? You’ll be apart of history if I succeed.”

Felicity shrugged while she calmly flipped through the aged pages of a book that had been around since the first union between a vampire and, a witch was ever used as a tactic to protect human life. “You and I are the last of the original bloodline mother. We’re the only ones who remember the original pact that the Queen’s made when they first ventured towards our sleepy little hamlet. I’m also the only one that knows you’ve secretly been killing off the other clans for hundreds of years.”

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VLD Rare Pair Week: Day Three (Kidge)

(Skipped days 1 and 2; might do those later)

Day Three: Staying In

Katie Holt, former childhood prodigy, graduate student at MIT, and lover of robots, squeezed her eyebrows together as she inched the tweezers ever closer to her nostril.

“Breath.” She instructed herself quietly. “Breeeeeeath.”

The door creaked, and she pinched her nose. “ARE YOU FU-,”

A head peeked it’s way around the door. “You good?” Keith asked her, his violet eyes adorably (and quite frankly, a-dorkably) wide.

Pidge sighed, and turned around, her nose red. “Peachy keen. Why do you ask?”

He snorted the tiniest bit. “Ready? Lance texted that he and Hunk were on their way. Where are we eating again?”

Shrugging, Pidge put down the tweezers. “Some fancy Italian place. Allura blogged about it a couple weeks ago. Or-wait, Shiro might have said that’s where they were going for their anniversary.”

Keith nodded, and then stopped, gazing at her. “Damn.” He said, smirking a bit, eyes lingering on her figure, clothed as it was in a forest-green cocktail dress (probably stolen from her mother’s closet the last time she was at her house).

“You pig.” She said shortly, and turned back towards the mirror, reaching for the mascara. “Would’ve expected that from Lance.”

Keith mock-gasped. “Am I not the perfect gentleman?” He said, putting his hand on his heart.

Snickering, Pidge looked over her shoulder. “My knight.” She swooned, and then suddenly tripped over one of the floorboards, landing in his arms. “Ouch!”

Laughing, Keith steadied her. “Probably not the best idea to wear heels when you can’t even walk normally.”

Pidge scowled. “Ugh. Do we have to go to dinner?” She whined. “I already probably burst a blood vessel in my nostril. Hunk will have a heart attack if I start bleeding all over the fettuccini alfredo.”

“We’ve been planning this dinner for months, Pidge. I want to go as much as you do, but-,” Keith trailed off.

“We have no legitimate excuse.” Pidge finished, and rolled her eyes. Suddenly, she draped herself in his arms. “Oh! Oh! My ankle! It’s-oh my-SPRAINED!” She gasped in pain. “Oh dear!”

Trying not to laugh, Keith gathered her up in his arms. “Fine, Miss Prima Donna.”

Pidge snorted as he dumped her in the kitchen. “Here, I’ll turn on Stranger Things and grab the popcorn, and you text Hunk, ‘kay?”

“Done.” He said proudly, tucking his phone in his dress shirt pocket, and vaulted over the sofa. “What episode we on?”

“Um…Barb went missing. I think.” Pidge said as she curled up beside him with a bowl of popcorn. “Here, I put some of that chili seasoning.”

“Thanks.” He said, looking at the screen.

As the opening sequence begun, Keith’s phone lit up, but they didn’t notice, as Pidge cuddled closer, and his arm tightened around her.

-

Lance and Hunk sat on their bed, Lance’s laptop nestled between them.

“You think they’ll be mad we didn’t show?” Hunk murmured into Lance’s shoulder.

“Nah.” Lance said, as he chewed on a cookie. “Wait, so what just happened to Jack Sparrow? I wasn’t watching.”

-

Hope you enjoyed! (Not beta-read, because I’m technically not “in civilization” right now👍🏽)

@vldrarepairweek

Okay, kids...

I’m fully aware that we have much bigger and much more important, pressing things to think about as we face such turmoil all over the world…but I’m feeling I need a small bit of fun and distraction and I beg your indulgence. I call this post

THINGS I NEED TO SEE HAPPEN BEFORE MOFFAT AND 12 LEAVE US: 

(and brace yourself, loves, because there’s gonna be a lot of River-centric requests in here…)

Originally posted by doctorwhogeneration



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When the Dead Come Knocking #2

Summary: It’s been over a year since the outbreak and the world has gone to shit. Mary, Dean, Sam, Donna, Jody, and Letty have survived this long thanks, in part, to the safety of the Men of Letters bunker. And then, on a routine trip into Lebanon, everything changes.
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Mary Winchester, Donna Hanscum, Jody Mills, Violet / Letty [OFC], Negan, & Simon
Word Count: 1,422
Warnings: Language, fluff & suspense
Author’s Note:
Co-written with @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog Idea for this fic came from THIS fan art. Takes place during season 10. None of this is canon, it’s an AU / Crossover. GIF Credit [xMaster List Tumblr is dumb and won’t let me tag everyone, so I’m sorry if you’ve asked to be tagged and it isn’t working.

<— PREVIOUS

“Just kill me,” the man gasped. “He’ll kill me anyway.”

“What?” Dean mumbled, really only half listening. Too many things had gone wrong today and it was making him feel like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. He wanted to get back to the bunker, the sooner, the better.

“Who’ll kill you?” Mary kneeled beside the injured man, her hand on his shoulder.

“N…n…Negan,” he moaned.

“That name again.” Sam crouched beside his mother. “Who the hell is this guy?”

The guy on the ground laughed, the sound tapering off into a moan of pain. “Oh, you’ll find out soon enough. He’s coming. Negan is coming.”


Originally posted by weeklyspn

“Who the hell is Negan?” Jody demanded, her eyes on Dean as he stalked around the armory, gathering weapons and ammunition. Donna stood to the side, patiently taking whatever Dean handed her and shoving it into the huge green duffel.

“We don’t know,” he was shaking his head, his concentration split between Jody’s question and whatever it was he was doing. He’d felt like he was racing headlong into a dark, black tunnel with no idea what was on the other side ever since they’d gotten back to the bunker. The only thing on his mind had been figuring out ways to protect the people he loved. “But I’m pretty sure he’s bad news.”

Jody had never been one to argue with Dean’s instincts, especially since the shit had hit the fan. If he thought this Negan guy was no good, than so did she.

“What can I do to help?” she asked.

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(09.01 spoilers) LISTEN UP!

The last scene doesn’t only mean that the doctor hasn’t to deal with the daleks anymore, it means gallifrey was never attacked.
It means the doctor never run away. 
It means Rose is still working as a shop assistant in London.
It means Martha is still a doctor.
It means Donna never won in the lottery.
It means River Song isn’t the doctor’s wife. 
It means Clara never fell into the time vortex. 
This will change anything. 
Ian, Barb, Polly, Jamie, Joe, Sarah-Jane, Sullivan, K9, Leela, Adric, Nyssa, Tegan, Nisslan, Peri too, Ace, Amazing Grace, Jack, Mickey, Wilfred, Rose, Martha, Donna, River, Amy, Rory, Clara… they all never expierienced somethign with the doctor.
Their experiences made them stronger.
Better. 
There’ll be a little girl with a wide crack in the wall. 
There’ll be a possible girl. 

Either this season will be the greatest or the most terrible. 

I beg it’s firstly.

Fuck you, Moffat (and at the same time many kisses xoxo)

12 DAYS OF SHIPMAS - DAY SIX (MARVEY)

In case you missed the original post, here’s what’s going on.  

And here are all the other stories so far!

I’ll be honest, I’ve been extremely sick the last 24 hours, so I’m quite amazed I was able to get this written and up on time - I blame Mike and Harvey for their indestructible sexual tension.  YES!  Today is Suits day, and I couldn’t be happier.  There isn’t a show on TV without a more obvious couple on (except maybe Supernatural) and I was thrilled to finally have a chance to write these two.  

2K words, no smut.  Picture set by me, though I don’t own the images.  Tagging @ourloveislegendrarry, as well as my favourite Marvey blogs @fionafusuits @fuckyeahmarvey and @harvey-bangs-mike 

***

Six Geese a-Laying

   “You wanted to see me?” Mike asked at the threshold of the dimly lit office.  New York twinkled beyond the floor to ceiling windows that Harvey was currently gazing out of, customary tumbler of whiskey in hand.  Even relaxed and in contemplation he radiated assuredness, and Mike felt his insides squeeze a fraction in awe.  

  He turned and gave a tight-lipped smile to Mike.  “Sure kid, come on in,” he said.  Despite the fact he was pretty sure they were the only ones left on the floor so late at night, Mike closed the door after he stepped inside.  Any excuse to be alone.

 He was always extremely careful when they were in the office never to cross the professional line that they had spent so many years treading.  All that had finally changed, thankfully, when several months ago Mike hadn’t been able to take torturing himself anymore, and had thrown himself at his boss after a heated, drunken argument about their usual pointless bullshit.  He had been pretty certain he was going to get himself fired, but he’d not cared. It was worth it to find out what Harvey tasted like, if only briefly and never again.  

  To his astonishment something had broken in Harvey, as he fisted his hand through Mike’s hair and grabbed the back of his shirt, hauling him in closer and kissing him a like drowning man gasping for air.  Mike had kept telling himself not to be too disappointed, not to read too much into it or get attached, that as Harvey had pulled him into his hotel room that it was going to be a one-time thing and he would be grateful for having it as opposed to the nothing he had ever expected.

  But here they were, almost at the end of the year, and Harvey was still pulling him into his bed.  Pulling him into his life.  

  “Is this about the case for Jessica?” Mike asked, still standing as he waited for an indication from Harvey.  “Because I haven’t had a chance to look at the files yet.”

  After a moment of hesitation, Harvey turned and licked his lips, looking at Mike through his eyelashes.  “Actually,” he said, a hint of reservation in his voice that made Mike nervous.  “I wanted to give you your Christmas present.”

  Several emotions shot through Mike’s chest as he struggled to keep his face neutral. Shock, and then absurd happiness that they were crossing their self-imposed line by discussing something so personal at work.  Fear as to why they were doing it at work. And then finally, shame and panic. “But,” Mike blurted out stupidly. “I thought – I haven’t got your present yet,” he admitted.  He thought he had more time.

  Harvey though smiled at him warmly, and waved his glass at the plush chairs where a wrapped box stood on the coffee table.  “I forgive you,” he said with a smirk.  “Now sit down and open your present.”

  Mike swallowed, unsure, but slid down into the leather seat.  “I could wait?” he said, almost afraid to touch it as Harvey sat opposite him.  “I feel bad.”

  But Harvey bit his lip and leaned forward, the ice rattling in his glass between his knees.  “Don’t feel bad kid,” he said genuinely.  “You know part of the fun for me is getting one up on you.”  He winked, and Mike relaxed a little.  

  “That is true, you old bastard,” he teased, scooting the box over to him and reading the tag.  

  Harvey scoffed.  “Okay,” he said, amused and shaking his head.  “Don’t push your luck.”

  The note simply said “Merry Christmas” on it; nothing more personal or incriminating, such as their names.  But the fact they were doing this at their place of work made up for that, Mike felt.  Like Harvey was defying the firm by doing this out in the open.  There were pretty strict rules about partners sleeping with associates, and it could get them both fired.  But Harvey Specter was never really one for rules.

  “I take it Donna wrapped this,” Mike said, deliberately pushing his luck as he inspected the silver wrapping with purple ribbon.  It was either that or admit how hard his heart was banging in his chest.  

  It had never just been sex between them, not since that first night, or even since they first met.  Mike cared deeply about Harvey, he admired and coveted him and his approval.  But it had not gone unnoticed how Harvey had held Mike after their first time together, how his fingers found any excuse to linger on his skin – even the way he would gruffly fling coffee and the morning paper at him like a he was a nuisance was him showing his particular brand of possessive affection, and Miked loved it all the more.

  He loved Harvey, he knew he did.  But it was much easier to tease and rile him rather than say the words out loud.

  But this ceremonious present giving was making him nervous that they were about to cross another line, personally speaking, and he was ashamed to admit he was afraid.

  It was always a case of taking what he could get from Harvey, and appreciating that it could all be ripped away from him at any given moment.  Harvey was always the one in charge, and if he realised how stupid they were being Mike couldn’t’ blame him for putting an end to it.  So he always held back, just a little, not willing to give himself over fully so he would have something left of himself when it would all inevitably come crashing down.  It was a sort of self-preservation, he guessed.

  But moments like this, where Harvey caught him off guard, always brought his defences up. In case this was the moment of no return, in case this was finally the time he would finally shatter Mike’s heart into a thousand pieces.  

  Harvey took Mike’s barb about Donna wrapping his present with an arched eyebrow.  “What, you think I couldn’t possibly do a good job wrapping a gift?” he quipped.  Mike held the present as if it were fragile, unable to look up at Harvey.

  “No,” he said honestly.  “I just don’t think you’d deign to do something so lowly yourself.”

  “Would you just shut up and open it,” Harvey groused, taking a sip of his drink as Mike laughed, nervously.  So he did, sliding his fingers along the creases and ripping the paper noisily in the quietness of the office.  Inside was…another box.

  “Gee,” Mike said sardonically as he pulled the second smaller box out, wrapped again in silver.  “Just what I always wanted.”

  “Okay,” said Harvey in defeat.  “This may have been Donna’s idea, so you can give her a hard time about it later. Just…keep going.”

  After a moment of paused intrigue, Mike looked back from Harvey and tore into the fresh paper, lifting the lid and unsurprisingly finding another wrapped box. This went on for two more layers, with Harvey looking on in amusement as Mike got more and more flustered, before finally he reached a small, unwrapped box that he knew instinctively was the real present.

  He paused, turning it over in his fingers.  “Go on kid,” Harvey urged.  That was the third time he’d called him kid since he’d arrived.  He was nervous.  

  It was this that gave Mike the courage to open the last box.  He wanted to alleviate Harvey’s worries, even if he himself was practically shaking in apprehension.  But he was surprised to see that all that lay inside the box was a simple key, and he fished it out to frown down at it.  “It’s a key?” he said, aware of how dumb he sounded.

  “Nothing gets past you, does it?” replied Harvey, and Mike looked up finally to see how tense he was.  What kind of key could make Harvey Specter tense?

  And then it hit him.  His eyes snapped back down, and he almost didn’t dare breath.  It couldn’t be, could it?  “What’s it a key for?” Mike asked, striving to keep his voice even.  

  “What do you think?” Harvey replied.  Of course he was going to make him say it.  There was no going back from this if he was wrong.  

  He licked his lips and took a steadying breath.  “It’s…a key to your place?” he said, unable to keep the question from framing his words.  

  Harvey just gave him a single nod, and hope and exhilaration exploded through Mike’s chest like the God-damn Fourth of July.  “We talked about you spending Christmas at mine,” Harvey explained.  “And I figured this would be easier than me having to babysit you.”

  A key to Harvey’s flat – he was being intrusted with Harvey’s home.  Mike felt a lump rise in his throat, and he coughed it away.  “Thank you,” he stammered.  “I uh, that’s great.”

  “But?”

  Mike looked up sheepishly.  He could never fool Harvey.  “But why now? Why not when I come over on Christmas Eve, and have your present to give you back?”

  Harvey chuckled affectionately.  “What’s the obsession with giving presents at the same time?” he asked.

  Mike rubbed the back of his neck and tried not to let his emotions creep out.  “Because you always give me so much,” he said. “I wanted a chance to give you something back.”

  He risked looking over at Harvey, who put his drink down and laced his fingers together between his knees.  “Well, lucky for you,” he said measuredly.  “That is my present from you.”

  “How?” Mike breathed, not daring to let himself hope.  But Harvey’s eyes were wide with vulnerable sincerity, and he couldn’t help himself.  “How is this my present to you?”

  Harvey didn’t blink.  He just held Mike’s gaze for what seemed like forever.  “It is…if you wanted to move your stuff in in time for the holidays?”

  Mike’s vision went entirely white as he took the split-second to process what Harvey had said.  When it returned, he dropped his gaze back to the innocuous looking key held precariously between his fingers.  “You want me to move in with you?” he whispered around the solid lump in his throat, unable to stop the wetness collecting behind his eyes.  

  “Yes,” said Harvey firmly and simply.  “I want you to be home for Christmas.”

  Home. Home.  He wanted Mike to share his home.  He wanted it to be their bed and their coffee cups and a million other stupid things that would be theirs.  He wanted Mike to come home.

  Without a word, Mike stood and walked around the table, not stumbling but with purpose as he reached Harvey and folded into his lap, glass door be damned.  He buried his face into Harvey’s neck and shivered as strong fingers ran up his back, as lips pressed against his hair.  “Is this what you really want?” he mumbled, and in response Harvey pulled him in tighter.

  “Yes,” he said determinedly.  “I want you in my life.  I want you to be there every morning when I wake up, I want your God-damn bike in my lobby and your toothbrush and ties next to mine.  But,” he said, inhaling deeply as Mike shifted in his lap to look at him. “Only if that’s what you want?”

  “Yes,” Mike replied immediately, before hungrily kissing his lips several times.  “Yes, please, that’s what I want.”

  Harvey let himself be kissed, his fingers carding through Mike’s hair as he leaned even further into him.  He had been so terrified of falling all the way for Harvey, he hadn’t once let himself consider how good it might feel.  It was freeing and wondrous, and he hoped it would never end.  

  After a time, Harvey pulled back and ran his hand along the side of Mike’s tearful face. He wasn’t even embarrassed, for once he wanted to be completely honest about what Harvey meant to him.  “What do you say kid?” he asked, prising Mike’s fingers open from where they had clamped so hard over the key they had left a red imprint.  “How about we go home?”

  Mike nodded, his hand entwining with Harvey’s the key pressed between them.  “I think that sounds perfect.”

 End

Le verità sopra i trenta 84#

La barba per l'uomo è come il trucco per la donna.
Più che a valorizzare, serve a coprire i difetti.
Il problema è che un viso struccato lo vedi la mattina dopo. Un viso da sbarbato impaurito della vita invece solo quando è già troppo tardi per bloccare bestemmie e maledizioni.

7

Silence in the Library / Forest of the Dead - Behind the Scenes

Steven Moffat - I expanded this a bit <scene toward the beginning of the episode with the Doctor and Donna talking in the library>, which set off David on some whole thing about the sonic screwdriver

David Tennant - Oh yeah… <giggles>

Steven Moffat - I get a message saying, “David is worried about whether or not the sonic screwdriver could do that”

Julie Gardner - …and you were like “shut up, they’re extra pages!”

Moffat - You think, “He’s working hard, the boy” isn’t he?  I mean it could mend barbed wire and light candles…  It’s a bit late to object..

Tennant - Well we changed it, didn’t we?  Because at one point the idea was I stick the sonic screwdriver up in the air and it took a sound reading of the whole planet!  I just queried if we were stretching it…

Moffat - Setting four million two hundred and seventy eight.  Ka-chunk - canonical!  That’s the power.

Tennant - <laughs> Yeah!  Oh look at him, wielding it.  Look!

Moffat - …he means wielding the *power*, listener.

Gardner - David, two things.  One, we’re in the presence of a dictator.

Tennant - A dictator who has not had a good day at the keyboard so he’s a bit punchy as well…

Moffat - <much laughter>


      - from the Silence in the Library DVD commentary track

Other parts of this photoset:  [two]
[ List of all Doctor Who Behind the Scenes photosets ]

Arrow Fic: You Can Dance In a Hurricane (But Only If You’re Standing In the Eye)

Almost post-4x22 Olicity. In which Damien Darhk does not show up at the loft so we can get some more of those “Thanks for not being dead” feels.

A/N: Shout out to Treasure Mathstorm & nothing against accountants. This is an author’s note that will make sense at the end of the story.

Title from “The Eye” by Brandi Carlile. Guys, this song. My friend played it for me this weekend and I nearly started weeping. Related: It gives me tons of Olicity feels.

You Can Dance In a Hurricane (But Only If You’re Standing In the Eye) (AO3)

Felicity Smoak is not her mother’s daughter.

That much had been clear from a young age. Her first word was ‘Dada,’ her first steps were in her father’s direction, her mind was wired in almost the exact same way as his. All these years, she’s pretended like she forgot, but when Noah sits down at the computer next to her, the memories are crystal clear. Blue screens and screeching dial-up modems and laughing to near hysterics at a late night game of Treasure Mathstorm.

And despite her efforts to leave him in her memories, it seems they’re still more alike than she could have let herself imagine. Hacking alongside her father, it’s not hard to see how half of Felicity (at least, Curtis was a rambling mess, but he had a point there) is made up of this man.

Keep reading

Behind castle walls

Le séjour d’Amara s’était étiré et avait été ponctué par des messages réguliers  à Tony. Elle lui avait envoyé des râles concernant les autres conférenciers , des pensées diverses et variées concernant certaines théories , et également  un sms  à chaque fois qu’on mentionnait le nom de  Stark ou Richards ou Banner par pour envie de l’ennuyer. Mais ces messages étaient devenus plus rares 2 jours avant son retour prévu et elle ne donna pas réellement de nouvelles quand elle fut de retour à New York. Il y avait une raison bien précise à cela : son orgueil. Elle n’était pas retournée au MIT , mais avait pris une semaine supplémentaire. Après avoir soigneusement évité le monde extérieur, elle s’était résolue à sortir pour acheter des courses.Amara s’était rendue à sa voiture et fit tomber ses clés. Elle jura sous sa barbe et se pencha pour les ramasser et sursauta quand un visage familier fut devant elle. Elle repositionna ses énormes lunettes de soleil et s’appuya contre sa voiture.  “ Grand Dieu, Tony…”