do i have a wonky eye or something

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Olicity Fic: The Great Phone Malfunction (or Thea's cover stories are better than her brother's) : The Fourth Part of the 'Here or There' verse...
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Hey guys! Got my submission finished early this week. This is both my submission for @thebookjumper Olicity Hiatus Fic-A-Thon for the Prompt: Malfunction and the next installment in my “Here or There” verse. Thanks for reading and I would love to hear what you think!


Summary:  Thea’s having some iPhone problems and she comes to Felicity for help…because why wouldn’t she? And if they catch lunch and get to know each other in the process? All the better!

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I own NOTHING!

Here goes…


It wasn’t like a date or anything. Not like a date date or anything anyway. That’s what Felicity kept telling herself. Sure, Oliver and Sara had apparently ended things (cue the internal happy dance), but that had nothing to do with this. And Felicity had nothing to do with said ending of things. She’d been perfectly happy for them. If they brought each other comfort, gave each other some shred of peace in their painful lives, who was she to judge just how selfish and twisted the whole situation was? Felicity was, admittedly, no Laurel fan even though she barely knew the woman personally. If Oliver and Sara wanted to dump salt on an obviously still gaping wound while the woman was already struggling with grief, guilt, and addiction issues…well that was their despicable decision to make, wasn’t it? It was none of Felicity’s business and she’d stayed nice and out of it.

But anyway…SO not a date! It was just a marathon. A friendly marathon between friends. There was no reason to stress and over-analyze every single little thing. No reason to type up a detailed two page itinerary…and she was totally going to delete that…in a minute.

“Felicity?”

Felicity jumped and immediately reached up to downsize the word document filling her screen. She painted on her professional smile and looked toward the door. Then she frowned confused. “Thea…I mean, Miss Queen?” Why was Thea Queen standing before her desk…and talking to her? It wasn’t unheard of for Thea to visit Oliver at the office, but she never stopped to speak to his blonde EA. She barreled straight ahead through to Oliver. Felicity was beneath the younger Queen’s notice…or she had been…before today. Felicity was honestly a little stunned that she even knew her name.

Keep reading

2

exactly six years later, and they still only have eyes for each other. 

The First of November

The Scorpio Races Fanfic – @welcometothisby
________________

SEAN

It is the first of November and so, today, someone will die.

I don’t open my eyes immediately. Images from races past wash over me like the bloody tide, pulling at my hands like they want to pull me down. A phantom breeze washes over my face and a phantom surf washes against my calves and my hands curve over phantom reins. My hand rests on a warm body and, for a moment, I can believe I’m touching Corr. Then she speaks to me.

“You aren’t getting up already, are you?” Puck murmurs sleepily. She gathers a handful of our blankets and pulls, giving my feet a cool kiss of morning air as the blanket goes over our heads. “Oof. That was a mistake,” she says, tucking her knees to her chest. She sounds indefinitely more awake now.

“I’m heading to the beach,” I say. I’m going through my morning list for Corr—change his wraps, muck out his stable, take him for a swim to rebuild his strength—and I can do it, if only just, if I start now.

Puck props herself up on an elbow and fixes me with an incredulous stare. Her hair is twisted into fantastic shapes, like those of clouds, and I swear there’s a running horse lurking just behind her ear. Strands of it are attached to our blanket tent. “You can’t,” she says simply. I reach out for her hand and she gives it to me, a smile flitting across her lips.

“Why not?” I press my lips to the inside of her wrist. I speak now with her skin against my mouth. “I have to start now. If I start now, I’ll be finished by the time the races begin.”

Puck frees her hand and runs it through my hair, resting her palm by my temple. “You’re pushing yourself too hard,” she says. “Besides, it’s not even light out. It must be only four, Sean Kendrick, and you remember what you promised me, surely.”

I do. “Stay in bed until six,” I say, and am rewarded with a smile. I smile myself. It’s only the shorter races in the morning. Surely I can sleep for a few more hours. I adjust so my feet are back under the blankets, and close my eyes.

It is the first of November and so, today, someone will die.

But it is not going to be either of us.

PUCK

Reporters flock the beach today, their camera bulbs flashing as they spot promising capaill uisce. They swarm to the rich and powerful and take pictures of them doing rich and powerful things, like frowning dramatically at the rolling clouds, or scratching their bums.

Sean and I separate quietly at Dory Maud’s stand with a simple squeezing of each other’s hand. Dory Maud clucks at me as I approach, which immediately puts a scowl on my face.

“What?” I ask abruptly. I rearrange my teapots on her table, moving the more lopsided ones to the back.

“You and that young man,” she replies, and to my surprise she cackles “I never thought.”

“Never thought what?” I’m rather pleased that I manage to stop my reply here.

Dory Maud follows Sean with an amused eye. “I never thought you two would come true,” she says. “You two are a wish I never thought to hope for.”

I open my mouth, certain that there’s something I can say to this proclamation, but nothing comes. I give myself a few moments before closing my mouth in defeat.

“Ah, a silent Puck. There’s a strange sight,” Dory Maud quips. “What on earth are you doing to those teapots?”

“Some of them came out wonky,” I reply, glad to have something to say. “And before you say something about wonky and people being wonky—”

She interrupts with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “I wasn’t going to,” she says. “I was going to let your future babies do that for me.”

“Dory Maud!” My ears are utterly flaming, I can tell.

Dory Maud just shrugs, pleased with herself.

“I must say, I’d be intrigued to see those children myself,” a familiar voice says in a familiar broad accent. I look up and am unsurprised to see George Holly standing arm in arm with Annie, Dory Maud’s blind sister. He’s wearing a pressed green sweater and about half of Annie’s lipstick.

He’s also holding a gigantic paper bag from Palsson’s, which undoubtedly holds at least a dozen November cakes. Seeing them makes me think of Finn, who likely carefully selected each cake as if his life depended on it. That’s one of the things I’m most grateful for, that my winning the races meant Finn doesn’t have to apprentice with Thomas Gratton. Aside from being able to keep the house, and Sean keeping Corr, the fact that Finn doesn’t have to deal with blood every day means the world.

“Are those to share?” I ask, ignoring Dory Maud’s pointed look and Annie’s unfocused glare. Years of trying to survive on the kindness of others doesn’t go away that quickly. George Holly smiles widely at me pulls out three individually wrapped cakes.

“One for the both of you and one for Mr. Kendrick,” he says, which is strange, because I know he calls Sean ‘Sean’ and he knows I know he calls Sean ‘Sean’. I don’t worry on it, though; tourists never made much sense to me.

I thank him, hand one to Dory Maud, and head off to find Sean.

The crowd parts around me much easier this year. It’s a strange thing, this awareness. We acknowledge you, the movement seems to say. Curious eyes meet my gaze so frequently that I instinctively jut my chin and glare back.

It takes a little while to find Sean. There’s so much movement on the cliffs that I step back and let my eyes relax, the better to find a small corner of stillness. After three minutes I find him standing just off to the side, hands in his pockets, his face the same sharpness as the cliff face. He’s watching the short distance races with a politely distanced expression on his face, and I know it’s not just for show. Sean raced because he loved Corr. He doesn’t now because he still does.

I go up to him from the side, as I would with Dove if she was stressed. I’m not sure why. He doesn’t comment, instead taking my hand as he had this morning. His fingers play with the red ribbon bracelet he’d given me before we raced together.

I miss it sometimes. The exhilaration, the speed. But standing here with him, it’s enough.

SEAN

I’m not watching the races after Puck takes my hand. I accept her November cake, leaving the box in my coat pocket. I think she can tell how nervous I am, because she looks at me from the corner of her eye as the short distance races finish.

They’re calling all those entered for the real race to the starting line and I feel everyone’s attention taughten. Some look at the lineup and then at me and I can tell they’re wondering why I’m not racing. I tighten my grip on Puck’s hand. She runs her thumb across my knuckles.

I breathe in the sea, in the smell of Puck’s hair, in the sensation of her hand in mine, and I am so, so alive.

Then the riders are off.

It’s a bloodbath. The capaill uisce in the middle are the ones I noted early in October, the ones whose riders are lazy or cruel or indulgent, the ones whose reins are just too loose and whose manes are covered in flowers and chains and bells. The ones who are hungriest, the most determined to return to the sea.

It’s over in minutes. It’s an eternity on the beach, but it’s over before I finish my November cake.

“Strange,” Puck murmurs. Her voice is like the sea, and it calls me back to myself. Her eyes mirror the color of the waves. “It seemed so much longer, when it was us.”

And I know at her words that I’m right. It couldn’t have been anyone else. I smile at her faintly.

She narrows her eyes curiously. “What?” I shrug, my usual response. She turns to face me fully, free hand on her hip. “No, what? What’s that face?”

“Will you marry me?”

I’m immediately horrified. This isn’t at all what I planned. She doesn’t reply right away, staring with her mouth slightly open at me. I’m holding a half eaten November cake, my jacket’s streaked with salt from this morning’s swim with Corr, there’s blood on the beach below, and this isn’t what I planned. I have no bread to give her.

She’s still not saying anything. I take my hand back and twist around to reach into the pocket on the other side, and pull out the little box. Puck’s eyes widen as I one-handedly open the box and sink to my knee.

The people around us have noticed now. Reporters point their cameras at us, and I hear excited whispers and our names echo around us as I say, “Puck Connolly. Will you marry me?”

Puck gives me a blazing look that’s belied by the tears streaming down her face and nods. She runs into my arms and knocks me over, laughing through her tears.

“Is that a yes?” I say, laughing slightly myself. I take the ring out of the box.

“Of course that’s a yes,” Puck replies. She wipes her eyes fiercely with her sleeve and I take her hand and slide the ring on.

I sit up, heedless of the reporters taking photos, and kiss her. My arms are full of Puck and my stomach is full of November cake and I’m getting her hair sticky with the honey and icing. And I hear someone that sounds suspiciously like George Holly call out, “What did I tell you? It’s a good thing you aren’t a gambling man, Mr. Kendrick, or you’d be out a lot of money.”

But I wouldn’t have cared.

Puck kisses me back, hard, and our spectators cheer. We ignore them. She smiles underneath my mouth.

It’s the first of November and so, today, our lives will begin anew.

Cuddle Prompt 3

@ladriened requested adrino 18 or 19 or 20 from this list.

Since I apparently hate myself, let’s combine all three!

18- While someone’s crying

19- While someone’s sick

20-Post-proposal

~~~

“I’m sorry babe,” Adrien said rolling onto his back while he laid on the couch.  “I know you’ve been planning this date all week.”

“Don’t be sorry. These things happen,” Nino said as he sat on the armrest for a moment to stroke his boyfriend’s hair.

“I can’t remember the last time I was sick,” Adrien admitted. “I feel like I messed up big time.”

Nino’s lip twitched, but he continued to push Adrien’s hair back.  “It was just a date.”

“Was it?” Adrien asked in an attempt to look serious, but he had to close his eyes soon as the misery from his fever made it hard to concentrate on anything for very long.

“Maybe you should drink some water,” Nino suggested trying to distract Adrien from the subject.

Adrien however, maybe due to the fever, took Nino’s attempt at distraction the wrong way.  His eyes stayed closed but his lip quivered slightly.  “You’re mad at me aren’t you?”

“Mad at you?” Nino said in an exasperated tone.  He just wanted Adrien to get well and not worry about what may or may not have been planned.  

Adrien picked up on the tone, though not the reason and turned onto his side. “You’re mad and I’m the worse boyfriend and I don’t know why you even still put up with me.”

Nino rolled his eyes to heaven.  If Adrien was always this melodramatic when sick it was a good thing he didn’t get sick often.  When Nino looked down though he realized Adrien was crying.  This made Nino feel like shit.  

Maybe Adrien was being a big over the top, but Nino was being the bad boyfriend here! Going around so he was kneeling in front of Adrien he placed a hand on his feverish boyfriend’s cheek.  “You are not the worse boyfriend, you’re the best.  That’s why I wanted to do something special tonight.”

The pouting blond opened his watery eyes.  “You’re just saying that.”

Over dramatic! However, Nino was not going to comment on it.  In all likelihood he had noticed how worked up Nino had been about this date and being sick just made his emotions all wonky.  “If I was just saying it, then why would I have gotten this?”

Nino pulled out a small box from the inner pocket of his blazer and held it out to Adrien who sat up despite his wobbly state.  “Is this…?”

“Adrien Agreste, will you marry me?” Nino asked as he opened up the box.  He didn’t expect Adrien to practically throw himself at him.  Nor did he expect the balling, but Nino took it as a yes while patting his now fiance’s head and cooed at him.  “Come on, let’s get up on the coach.”

That got Adrien’s attention, but not in the right way as Adrien started peppering Nino’s face with kisses at Nino tried to hoist them both back up on the coach.  After a few minutes he managed to get in a comfortable enough position as his boyfriend snuggled into him. If not all of Adrien’s murmurings were quite coherent, that was okay.  Later he’d have Adrien put on the engagement band.

After Weirdmageddon (part two)

A/N: Is this Integration AU … Hm. Maybe, kind of, not entirely?  This was more of an attempt to bridge TAU with the season 2 finale.

Part one 

Part Two

“I swear I didn’t do this on purpose.”

Mabel rolled her eyes. “I know you didn’t, Dipdop.”

They were sitting on a log at the side of the road. The bus driver was making a hurried phone call. Waddles was exploring the little pond next to the road and was already covered in duckweed.

“It’s just, I don’t want you to think that I did some kind of spell so I couldn’t leave and I had to stay and become Grunkle Ford’s lab assistent because I promised to go with you and besides I don’t even want to stay not really, even if Grunkle Stan and Ford weren’t leaving soon to sail the seven seas or whatever they are planning and -”

“Shhh.” She put her finger against his lips and he got the hint. “You’re rambling.”

His face stung from the little cuts and bruises crashing through the backseat window had left him with. “Yeah,” he said. “Sorry. It’s just… I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“Hey, we’ll figure it out,” Mabel promised. She punched his shoulder. “You wanted to stay with Grunkle Ford and become Doctor McNerdmeister, right? Here’s your chance! And I’ll be your awesome lab assistent. We could be the Science Twins!”

“I’m never calling myself that.”

“Science Twins?”

“The other thing.” Dipper smiled. “Thanks sis. I’m sorry I ruined our bus drive home.”

“Pfft, it’s nothing. You said it bro-bro. Whatever happens, we’ll do it together.”

Keep reading

I’ve had some trouble with coming up with fic ideas lately so I’m giving this whole ‘fic of a fic’ thing a try to keep those brain muscles moving - I’m always impressed with how well everyone else does it here, and it makes me happy to see.  These are two pieces inspired by tekka-wekka‘s Surfer Genesis AU and up-sideand-down‘s Nerd Chic/Cloud With Glasses series. 

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Ever get that feeling like you’ve regressed somehow?

Took it back to basics tonight to figure out what I’m doing wrong on the faces these days. Something has felt off lately. I think I’m making the eyes too large (how the… wtf… THEY CAN’T BE BIG ENOUGH :V) and I think I’ve been placing the cheekbone too high. Muzzle shape is still all over the place too. I need to be more consistent…

I dunno. Something must have happened in 2015 and everything got wonky because I referenced my 2014 stuff and things from some of my inspirations for tonight and it looks better to me now?

In any case, here’s two things that didn’t turn out awful I guess. THE REST GOES IN THE GARBAGIOOOOOOOOO :V :V :V

medical museum

i have
an ambulance
taking me just
across the street
where a twisted doorknob
was killing a poet with a virus
and they took the beheaded to
church in an architectural fire wagon

but my advice is this -

stay
close to a jail
where they do
Halloween everyday

look for the
marijuana soul
the poetry junkie
the blue insomniac
the moon-gazing girl

for

there’s
something wonky
in the making of reality

the world is a photograph
filtered through our glazed eyes

like Time
it has its arrival
and its departure …

meanwhile,
excuse me
while i tie
my soul
to my
flesh -

the
medical staff
has left the building
and i drift into another world … and the moon follows.