the who's tommy feels

Think of Oliver Queen and Tommy Merlyn...

Think of them, standing at his mother’s funeral, with no idea of what death’s like except it takes away the people you love. 

Think of how they stand there and promise each other to always be there. They vow to be the other’s best man at their weddings, and vow to always get into mischief together, never alone.

And then Oliver disappears. Tommy, the boy who lost his mother and father, for whom Oliver had been his whole world in a way, his best friend and brother and partner in crime, dies at sea.

Tommy is lost. He gets even a speck of hint that his best friend is alive and he flies all across the world just to find him, to get him back.

Think of them when Oliver comes back. 

Of a friendship that had been the light for Oliver during some of his darkest days, 

of a friendship that had been the light for Tommy when he’d lost himself.

Think of them growing up together before and after Oliver came back, before and after all the mistakes they made.

They vowed to always be there for each other.

And think of the moment when Tommy Merlyn took his last breath in the arms of his best friend, 

the last face he saw being the man he’d loved as a brother all of his life, 

his last words clearing all differences away.

Think of Tommy Merlyn and Oliver Queen.

of two boys who’d spent all their lives getting into mischief and bailing each other out

of the two men who came back together, made mistakes and drifted apart, but never really broke

Of a friendship that believed even after death.

Of a friendship that never really left.

Or what Oliver would give to spend another minute with

Think of Oliver Queen and Tommy Merlyn.

And cry with me.


What can I give Him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;
If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part;
Yet what I can I give Him: give my h e a r t.



The Who - See Me, Feel Me

listening to you I get the music…..

subordinxte - liked for a starter!

It had been a month since Fletcher had the unwelcome visitor in his house. It was a surprise, then, when he came home to a man snoozing in his bed. The shock of time past and the appearance of the intruder only doubled the confusion, as it simply couldn’t be the same old Thomas Elliot in William’s bed. This man was ginger, bearded too, but the coat he wore was familiar. The relaxed way he was strewn about the bed was familiar. Who else but Tommy, too, would feel free to fall asleep in his bed?

It was a month. He looked so different. It was a month, but it was only a month. And again: it was a damn month!