haha i have no idea what you’re talking about everything is fine, i’m fine, we’re all fine, oliver’s wearing a comfortable, grey shirt that’s been worn soft by the washer and makes felicity feel like she’s being hugged every time she brushes up against his shoulder as they sit in the waiting room, and every time digg stumbles out and says something medical and fancy-sounding with a wild look in his eye oliver will google it on his phone and say, “see? normal. it’s normal. don’t worry, don’t worry, get back in there,” and digg will swallow hard and nod and march back in like he’s facing a firing squad instead of his maybe-ex-maybe-current-wife, it’s complicated, not that felicity blames her for being testy, hello, she’s in labor, she’s entitled.
not that the shirt matters either, the shirt is normal too, he’s been wearing a lot of those shirts lately, the soft and comforting ones that hang a little long on his wrists and have thin patches and old stains down by the hem, sometimes even little wet patches from where he leans up against felicity’s counter as he does the dishes, because it’s only polite, felicity, and stop trying to stop me from helping, i may have been a trust fund brat but i know how to wash a frying pan, god. why is she thinking about the shirt though, the shirt doesn’t mean anything, it’s not like a symbol or anything, which is important to keep in mind, always, that it’s just oliver being himself, it’s not like a hidden secret message to decode or anything, that he’ll wear something a lot after she’s told him that she likes it, that he looks good in it, that he’s been laughing more, lately. that he tells stories about his parents sometimes, and stays up late with her when she skypes with her mother, sitting just out of frame with his hand on her elbow, and when she closes her laptop he leans in a little closer and says, “i know, it never gets easier, but you just have to keep trying,” and she’s never sure if he’s thinking of moira or thea, but that doesn’t matter either, does it? the point is, the shirt looks good on him. it brings out his eyes. wait—not the point, the point is that these chairs are uncomfortable, and felicity is nervous, and the shirt makes her feel better. it’s weird. whatever. it doesn’t mean anything. everything’s fine.
me and roda are like the less intense version of what you two are. I told her last night when I was texting her to have sweet ass dreams that she is my life. and I will fight to the death for her, or fight her to death..i forget which one.
this just warms my heart and i want more people to see it
This is true. Then we texted each other creepy photos of Robert Pattinson and Skylar Astin to give each other nightmares.
I would like to add that I would also fight to the death for or against Bri, whichever proves my love the most.
Felicity as Ray Palmer's date at a gala, but wearing a dark green dress, and lots of jealous Oliver, please?
Lord, but her dress was gorgeous.
When she’d seen it on the first time, she’d nearly gasped herself. It was daring — far more daring than she would have been before, but she’d been learning new things about herself all the time this year.
It was a deep emerald green that caught the light and somehow shimmered and shivered with it, dancing between green and black. The back was completely open to her tailbone, save for a strap across it in the middle. The front’s vee-neck was just sort of indecent, and the whole top of the dress was tight and unforgiving, while the bottom flared out.
Her hair was sleek, beautiful waves, and she’d painted her eyelids a lighter shade of green. She’d indulged herself in fabulous black strappy heels for her feet and sparkling diamond earrings on her ears.
Ray’s expression when he’d seen her had been worth it, too. His jaw had dropped, and then he’d said something witty and flirty and Felicity had felt dancing butterflies in her stomach as she laughed.
This was good. This was light. This was easy.
Ray Palmer could hold her hand and not worry about getting her killed. Ray Palmer could lay his hand on the small of her back and ask her if she wanted champagne without tragic consequences. Being with Ray was like taking a deep breath of fresh air.
Until Oliver Queen walked in the gala doors and stole it from her stomach.
It really wasn’t fair, what Oliver did to her system. Ray gave her butterflies. Oliver pulled at the center of her like the most powerful electromagnet. Ray made her want things, but… Oliver? Oliver made her need things.
He’d made his choice, though. She could make hers.
He crossed the room, something heated, but somehow sad in his eyes. “Felicity, you look… gorgeous.”
"Off to steal her for a dance, Queen?" Ray asked, as he handed Felicity her champagne.
"Oh no —" Felicity started at the same time Oliver said "yes".
She found herself in his arms. Whirling around the ballroom under his steady guidance. His kinetic intelligence more than compensated for the fact that she often felt like a clodhopper on one foot when she tried to dance, despite years of ballet lessons.
"Green, huh?" Oliver asked as he side-step-turned them past another couple.
"I like the color," Felicity said evenly. "It makes me feel safe."
Oliver’s eyes darted to hers, and she could almost see the shutters coming down. “Well… it’s nice. On you, I mean.”
"On you, too," Felicity said softly. "Although black is also good."
Oliver chuckled and looked away. “Is it always going to be this awkward between us?”
"I don’t know, Oliver, are we going to be in love with each other always?" Felicity asked. "Because I don’t see how what we both said a few weeks ago, and what happened afterward…. I don’t see how that gets better without, I don’t know… a dramatic shift or something."
"What do you want me to do about it?" Oliver asked, easing her into a corner. "I can’t… take back what I said. Not that I would want to. But I can’t… change my circumstances, either."
"I want you," Felicity said, "to let me live my life. Let me go on a date with Ray without you whisking me away to whisper in corners. And then the minute you change your mind about this heroic sacrifice you think you’re making for my sake, I want you to let me know, so that I can quit looking for a guy I might love, and be with the one I’m in love with."
She dropped his hand and walked away, shaking, but victorious. The ball was in Oliver Queen’s court now.
This is me belatedly admitting that the unnecessarily secret thing I was on set for a couple of weeks ago was indeed the Veronica Mars webseries, and it was effing awesome.
I visited on a couple of shooting days, and I spent them live texting beetsbearbsg and Funda. I’ll probably write an extended account of what happened at some point, but for now, I will say that:
The first thing I saw when I walked on set was Ryan Hansen shirtless and Jason Dohring in a tank top that he soon also took off.
I was thisclose to being in the webseries as an extra. It didn’t happen, but I might still accidentally be in the background of a couple of shots just by virtue of being too lazy to move out of the shot.
Jason Dohring is the effing nicest.
I was very near and spoke to much of the cast, and I acted like a professional who did not freak out. I’m pretty proud of myself.
The scripts I read were hilarious and give Community a run for its money with how meta it is.
Every day you don't text me I sob into my arms while wailing songs of text messages past
Thank you, anon who (…whom?) I assume is diaphenia. I’m sorry for letting this sit in my inbox for, like, two weeks, and I promise to start texting you bonkers TMP AU scenarios again.
That said, I have a good reason for being MiA! I started my new job, and the pressure of working for an actual big-ish company with actual shows in production and actual money is awesome and stressful.
But so far so good! The people are fantastic, and the only thing that bums me out is that I can’t work with the girl I replaced. In the week she spent training me, we learned that we’re pop culture soul mates. She loves Parks and Rec, Ten-era Doctor Who, BBC quiz shows, UCB, Paul F. Tompkins, and all things Earwolf, She brought up “Farts and Procreation,” and we spent a half hour talking about U Talkin’ U2 To Me. It’s all going well so far, is what I’m saying.