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olicitysecretsanta · 5 years

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Convergence

For @swiftletinthecloud

Hello! We have never met or spoken before, but I am so happy to have you as my giftee because now we have! I was so happy about your response to my anon ask about what kinds of fic you like, because so many of your interests are also mine. It was actually a problem because I had too many interesting ideas for fic that were inspired by your suggestions. Now I just have more fic to write, I guess.

Anyway, I decided to write this idea for you because it was the SHORTEST of all the ideas I had. You can see how well that turned out. What is below is 2 out of 3 total chapters. The last chapter still needs editing, so your gift will be fully complete when I post this to AO3. Until then, please enjoy these first two chapters of season 1 alternate canon!

Much love, @allimariexf

Title: Convergence

Warnings: No warnings apply

Relationship: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak

Tags: Arrow season 1, alternate canon AU, episode tag 1x21 (The Undertaking)

Chapter 1

Oliver Queen moved like a panther through the underground casino, a sleek and beautiful predator at home among the understated opulence. His eyes strayed around the room, a careless smirk masking his close assessment of the security.

Two pit bosses, a floorman, and six armed guards, two of which flanked a hallway that must lead to Dominic Alonzo’s office. If he was going to get in there, he needed to come up with a distraction.

His mind went back to the document he’d found saved on his computer. Like all the previous messages he’d gotten over the past seven months, it took the form of a simple text file, saved prominently on the desktop of his computer in the foundry.

December 12, 2012: Harold Backman deposits $2 million to Cayman Fidelity on behalf of Dominic Alonzo, known kidnapper.

Also December 12: Walter Steele goes missing.

Coincidence? I don’t think so.

I know I normally don’t agree with your “shoot first, ask questions later” policy, but I’m willing to give you a pass on Alonzo. He seems like just the kind of low-life someone would pay to kidnap Mr. Steele. How many arrows do you think you’d need to put in Alonzo before he gave up Mr. Steele’s location - probably a lot, right?

Never mind, forget I said that. Alonzo’s private records are offline - likely stored in his office in his base of operations, an underground casino with basically its own private army. Not the best odds, even for you. But I have a plan that doesn’t involve arrows or any other pointy objects, so sit tight and I’ll contact you tomorrow.

The corners of his lips lifted at the memory. The anonymous hacker who’d been helping him certainly had a way with words, and in their months together she’d often surprised him with her uncannily insightful observations. But if she honestly thought he’d sit back and wait when they finally had a solid lead on finding Walter, maybe she didn’t know him as well as he sometimes suspected. Not when Walter had been missing for almost five months and the likelihood of him being found alive decreased every day. Not with the recorded evidence John Diggle had collected that seemed to confirm his mother had something to do with Walter’s disappearance - and that it was all connected to the List.

Oliver was tired of waiting for answers. This was something he could do. It just so happened that this time, he needed a bespoke suit of Italian wool, rather than green leather in order to do it.

Eyes tracking the movement of the guards, Oliver positioned himself at a well-situated roulette table. Several wealthy patrons crowded around the dealer, including an elegant brunette who instantly met his gaze.

“You’re Oliver Queen,” she purred, reaching out with graceful fingers to draw him toward her. Slipping easily into the role, he let his eyes travel down her body as she trailed her hand down his arm.

Choosing not to answer with words, he winked and held out his dice for her to blow on. It was enough to maintain the part he was playing, and in another life he would have taken her up on the unspoken invitation written in every line of her body. But as his eyes slid down her lithe frame, he barely saw her. Instead, he was seeking something else, some spark of her.

Huli jing.

His anonymous hacker ally.

His thoughts turned to her, as they had increasingly done over the past several months. Who was she, in her normal life? Where was she, what was she doing? When he mingled among the residents of Starling City by day, could she be right next to him, without either of them realizing it? Like always, the possibility sent a thrill of excitement through him.

Part of him was acutely aware that it was futile, even ridiculous, to entertain those thoughts, but as long as they only existed on the fringes of his mind, he indulged them. His life was his mission, and there was no room for anything else, but there was no harm in letting his mind play with the idea of her in his downtime. Not when there was no chance they could ever meet. So when he put in his appearances at Verdant, when he met up with Thea at her favorite cafe, when he picked up his mom from Queen consolidated, he allowed himself to wonder. And if his eyes caught on long red hair, a charming smile, or a long length of exposed thigh, he’d mentally compare the woman in front of him with his mental picture of her. But none of them ever had her unique, undefinable spark. And somehow, by comparison, every woman he saw seemed somehow less because they were not her.

She had contacted him for the first time seven months ago, though “contacted” hardly felt like the right term. He’d arrived at the foundry and booted up his computer one night only to find the entire system had been upgraded, and simple text document saved to the desktop:

I’m truly stunned that no one managed to trace the redistribution of Adam Hunt’s funds back to you. No one else, I mean.

Now that I mention it, I’m even more surprised you managed to steal that $40 million in the first place. Your system looks like it’s from the 80s.

(And not the good part of the 80s, like Madonna and legwarmers, to be clear.) I maybe spruced things up a little bit while I was in there. Seeing a network that poorly set up hurts me in my soul. Seriously it was like you left a crying infant on my doorstep, except it was like a 30 year old baby and it wasn’t my doorstep, because I was the one who kind of broke into your house. But my point is, you have a severely neglected computer setup, and I guess my maternal instinct kicked in. So to speak.

Oliver had barely finished reading the note before he’d ransacked the bunker, searching for evidence of a breach. When he found none, he read the note several more times, seeking hidden clues as to what the infiltrator knew, what they wanted. The program he used to take Adam Hunt’s money was something he’d taken from ARGUS, and no one should have been able to track it. Deeply alarmed, he read the note again and again. Not until the sixth time did he finally consider the playful tone of the note might be sincere, and only then did it occur to him that there might not be a threat buried in the message at all.

He remained on heightened alert for several days after that, but only on principle. The improvements she’d made (and she was a she, he was sure) to his system made his ARGUS programs run faster, and while using compromised equipment was normally a risk he would never take, his gut told him there was no danger. For reasons he didn’t examine, he found himself rereading the note, until he had it memorized word for word.

When he didn’t hear from her for three weeks, he told himself the sense of disappointment he felt was only because lingering questions felt too much like unfinished business. Not because he was intrigued by the hacker. Not because her note had made him smile the way no one had since he’d returned from the island.

He was starting to think of the incident as an amusing, but ultimately harmless one-time stunt when one night, after an afternoon of failing to get data off of Floyd Lawton’s computer and an evening taking his frustration out on a slum lord, he returned to the foundry and discovered a large data dump open on his computer - along with another note.

Blueprints to the Exchange Building, where the Unidac Industries auction is scheduled to take place. Gonna be a pretty target-rich environment. For the person who is trying to eliminate bidders in the auction via assassination, I mean. Which, to be clear, someone IS trying to do, according to the SCPD’s unreleased records. Anyway, do with this information as you wish. (Not “as you wish,” as in code for “I love you.” Obviously, I don’t even know you. Though from the captured video footage of you, I can say with confidence that you can really wear a pair of leather pants. Anyway, speaking of Westley, the papers are calling you “the vigilante” or “the hood,” but maybe you should consider adopting Dread Pirate Roberts. A name that inspires fear, so that you don’t have to do so much arrowing in order to get your point across. You should consider it. Good luck with the auction.

Oliver huffed out his nose, struck by her abrupt topic changes and her particular, rambly way of putting things before it even occurred to him to wonder how she’d managed to pull any information off Lawton’s damaged laptop. Or question whether she had any ulterior motive in doing so.

It was unusual for him to trust anyone so quickly, especially someone he knew virtually nothing about. But somehow, he did, and when her tip about Lawton proved sound, he found he wasn’t surprised at all.

After that he began to seek out her help, adopting her habit of communicating via text document saved to his computer. With each tip she left him, she proved herself invaluable to bringing down another of the city’s worst offenders. He could tell that she was brave, fearless even, and before he knew it, they had developed a rapport. And while it wasn’t exactly a partnership, it worked.

If I’m the the Dread Pirate Roberts, who are you? He asked finally, against the advice of the inner voice that cautioned him that the more he knew about her, the harder it would be to one day give her up.

But in answer, all she said was, You can call me Huli jing.

The Dark Archer, Ted Gaynor, Count Vertigo, Ken Williams, and the list went on. The notes came more frequently, and Oliver found himself looking forward to them, the first thing he’d check for every night. Even having never been there, she filled the dark, dank foundry basement with a bright presence that was just as tangible as John Diggle’s reliable support.

What do you think keeps these bad guys up at night? Probably not worrying about that one time they accidentally stared at a man for two full minutes while they were busy trying to figure out what the Cylons’ plan really was. They said they had “a Plan,” like capital P PLAN, you know? Anyway, despite what that guy probably thought, I was NOT creeping on him. But to my point, now that I think of it these criminals probably just close their eyes and get a full 8 hours every night. Sometimes it really sucks to have a conscience.

As the months wore on, he learned that she wielded a formidable intelligence, a sharp sense of humor, an unerring sense of justice, and, somehow, an unshakeable confidence in his mission. In him. She became a voice in his head that he couldn’t tune out. And he found, more and more, that he didn’t want to.

Anyway, while I’m at it, did you ever think about not killing some of these thugs? Look, I get it - they’re taking shots at you and you’re just trying to stay alive, but on the other hand, they’re just hired guns and you’re…you know. You. All I’m saying is, with your aim - which I have seen evidence of, so please don’t start with the false modesty - you could just as easily be shooting these guys in the hand or leg or something, you know? Anyway. Just a thought.

Before he realized it, she had come to haunt his thoughts. When he was wrestling with a problem, he found himself playing out imaginary conversations with her, unerringly channeling her firm conviction and steady support.

He didn’t even know what she looked like, but he couldn’t get her out of his head. Sometimes he thought he was half in love with her. No; that was ridiculous. It was the fantasy, the not knowing, that fascinated him. The idea that she could be anyone. He told himself didn’t want to know who she really was, because there was no way the reality could live up to the fantasy he’d built up in his mind.

A rough voice, intentionally pitched to grab his attention, cut into his reverie. “Is that Oliver Queen?”

“No, couldn’t be,” came a loud, theatrical reply, drawing closer toward him.

“Why not?” the first voice asked from somewhere right behind him. Oliver turned his head to present the speakers with a careless smirk.

“Because Oliver Queen wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this,” the second man sneered, pressing a gun against his back.

The gun cocked. “Well then I guess he has a death wish.”

So much for blending in, he thought as they dragged him toward the back hallway.

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

Felicity stilled her frantic movements to free herself from the ties that were cutting into her wrists as the door abruptly opened and a man was pushed inside. She tried not to gape as her captor stepped in behind him and roughly zip-tied his hands behind his back, exactly as he had done to Felicity not ten minutes before.

Despite her situation, she couldn’t stop the flow of words that spilled out of her mouth when she saw who had joined her. “Oh, great. It’s you.” The newcomer whipped his head up and she locked gazes with a pair of striking blue eyes.

Strangely, the first thought that crossed her mind was that if she had known her curiosity about the hood was going to lead to crossing paths with Oliver Queen, she would never have tried to solve the mystery of Adam Hunt’s $40 million in the first place.

Though to be fair, her interest in the Hood pre-dated the article that mentioned Hunt’s missing money, so she couldn’t entirely blame her entanglement with the vigilante on her compulsive need to unravel knotty mysteries. And it wasn’t just the allure of a dark and brooding man who could pull off leather, either. Something about his single-minded dedication and passion, at the risk to his own freedom and safety, was simply irresistible.

It was curiosity that first led her to him. Maybe boredom. Her job was monotonous and unchallenging, something she’d sought out after her brief brush with hacktivism had backfired so spectacularly. When she first read about the Hood, she dismissed him as some whacko loose canon. But she followed the story - and the police reports - for lack of anything better to do. But when she read that Adam Hunt claimed the Hood had stolen $40 million, Felicity was intrigued. A crazy person couldn’t - wouldn’t - pull something like that off. So she hacked into Hunt’s accounts, following the trail back to a program that emptied the money and redistributed it to Hunt’s victims. It was shockingly easy, like following a flashing neon sign, and she was legitimately stunned that the police hadn’t managed to do the same. They also had no idea that the missing money had been returned to its rightful owners. On impulse, she erased the digital evidence.

She could have left it at that, but the mystery was too compelling. She told herself she just wanted to make sure she hadn’t just enabled a psycho or terrorist to do even more psychotic and terrifying things, but the truth was, the fact that he’d quietly returned Hunt’s victims’ money to them cast him in an entirely unexpected light. She needed to know more.

She found that his system was alarmingly, disturbingly unprotected. And primitive. Really, it wasn’t even tolerable for the tiny amount of poking around and passive monitoring that she planned to do. Which is why she discreetly updated speed and capacity as much as she could without added hardware, then added a few dozen security protocols, because anything less was begging the police to come find him.

Then she established several monitoring programs and alerts, and waited. Just a few weeks later, she got an alert that an unprotected device had been plugged in - a quick remote in revealed that it was one of those Tuff laptops, with a damaged system. It was clear that the Hood hadn’t been able to access the drive, but Felicity was curious, so she remotely cloned the data and opened it on her own system. When she discovered the blueprints of the Exchange Building on the drive, she remembered that the Unidac auction was shortly going to be held there, which naturally reminded her of recent news that one of bidders, James Holder of Holder Group, had recently been murdered. Which naturally then led to a little bit of unsanctioned poking around the SCPD’s internal files, and before she knew it the she found herself composing a message to the Hood before she’d even consciously decided to get involved.

After all, she didn’t actually want to be involved. She was just an IT girl, and she intended to keep a low profile. But the possibility that she could help prevent another murder weighed on her conscience, so she left a message pointing him in the right direction, hoping her suspicions were false.

When she heard about the shooting at the auction, she poured herself a glass of wine - well, a bottle, really - and gave herself a talk. It wasn’t that she wasn’t glad she’d helped prevent an even greater catastrophe, because she was. It was just that the reality of the situation finally hit her, and she was faced with a choice.

Get involved, take a stance, use her powers in the real world again? She’d been down this road, she’d seen what her interference was capable of. She’d played with fire and hadn’t just gotten burned; she’d burned down her entire world - and Cooper’s.

But the Hood wasn’t Cooper. He wasn’t innocent. He wasn’t naive to the forces he was playing with. She wasn’t sure what he was. He’d killed, and he would kill again, she was sure.

But as much as she couldn’t condone the killing, she also couldn’t ignore the good that he’d done, and she realized she already didn’t have a choice. Something was happening in her city, the signs were all around her, and choosing to do nothing would only make her complicit.

From then on, she kept tabs on the Hood’s activities, always leaving documents on his desktop explaining, briefly, what he needed to know. It wasn’t long until he began leaving notes of his own.

Through unspoken agreement, they never asked each other personal questions, but between the lines, she gained a sense of the man he was. Compassionate. Loyal. Selfless.

When Oliver Queen was arrested as the suspected Hood, Felicity instantly dismissed the idea. She knew about the arresting officer’s personal grudge against Oliver Queen, which explained why he pursued him like a dog with a bone. But Felicity knew it was impossible; she knew what kind of person Oliver Queen was, and there was no overlap with the kind of person the vigilante was.

Aside from that, she purposely avoided speculating about who the Hood could be. If she had wanted to know, she could have found out easily enough, but she didn’t want to know. She told herself it didn’t matter; that the work he was doing was what was important. She didn’t want to put a face to the hood, because then she would begin to worry about him.

More than she already did, that is. Despite not knowing his name, she felt a connection with him that sometimes felt stronger for their mutual anonymity. His notes were always brief, especially compared to hers, but she learned to read what he didn’t say. And when he was repeatedly crucified in the media while his quietly heroic actions went unnoticed, he never complained, never faltered in his mission. He never even acknowledged the subtle tones of praise layered into her notes. She would almost suspect him of being a robot if it weren’t for the clear passion that underscored every action.

So when Walter Steele gave her the notebook that turned out to be filled with names that correlated with the criminals the vigilante was confronting, she didn’t say anything. There was too much she still didn’t know about the notebook to risk jeopardizing their relationship over it. Because if there was one thing she did know, it was that she trusted him.

When Mr. Steele went missing, however, she had to break her silence. Without giving away details that could expose her own identity, she presented him with digital evidence of Moira Queen’s involvement of the events that likely got her husband kidnapped, and asked him for help.

Which was how she now found herself in this hideously decorated criminal lair staring into the supremely beautiful face of Oliver Queen.

Chapter 2

“Oh great. It’s you.”

Oliver looked up at the sarcastic words being spoken by a stunning blonde. Even as he was roughly manhandled, his hands being zip-tied behind his back, he couldn’t help but be a little offended at her tone. “Excuse me?” Beautiful women treating him like some kind of disease was something he’d never experienced before, and while he wasn’t the same person he used to be, he had to admit his ego took a hit.

She stared at him silently, eyes flashing with undisguised contempt, until after Dominic Alonzo’s minion had left the room.

“Oliver Queen?” she finally answered distastefully, tilting her head at him in an exaggerated motion, as if his name was explanation enough. “Entitled billionaire and general asshole?”

Her stomach swooped as his eyes searched her face. Disturbingly, and contrary to the cool attitude she was projecting, Felicity found his presence a little overwhelming, not quite matching the plastic and glossy picture presented by the tabloids. Rather than being some kind of smarmy Trust Fund Ken, in person he was exquisitely human. Felicity had always suspected she was immune to the appeal of a man in a suit, but on him, the tapered line from broad shoulder to narrow waist suggested an essential masculinity that awoke a deeply primal response she’d never experienced before. In contrast to the brutal strength of his body, his eyes were startlingly expressive; his chiseled jaw was complemented by soft, sensual lips. In short, he was utterly, unfairly beautiful in a way that affected her immediately, physically, and urgently.

“Wow, okay,” Oliver scoffed, unaware of her internal struggle. “Most people lead with ‘Are you okay, Mr. Queen?’ ‘How did you survive all those years alone, Mr. Queen?’ ‘What does it feel like to be the only survivor in an accident that killed your father, Mr. Queen?’” He spoke harshly, wielding the crude words like a club. While he usually found the subject too intrusive to mention to anyone, let alone complete strangers, something about this woman’s fiery disdain was really getting under his skin, and extreme measures were called for.

Felicity smiled insincerely, holding on to her irritation like a shield from the confusing wave of sympathy that, along with his sheer attractiveness, threatened to undo her. This man slept with his girlfriend’s sister, she firmly reminded herself. “Well, I’m sorry, but my concern didn’t really seem necessary, given the fact that you seem utterly unaffected by what you went through. I caught your appearance at the opening of Queen Consolidated’s Applied Sciences building,” she added witheringly. “You seemed perfectly okay. Or at least as okay as you ever were.”

Oliver crossed his arms, bothered by her words even though the image she described was the exact public persona he’d been purposefully crafting. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he couldn’t stand the idea that this woman found him so completely and vehemently offensive. Shaking his head, he tried a different tack. “Have we met before? Have I done something to offend you?” There was something compelling and almost familiar about her, but he was pretty sure he would remember if they’d met.

She scoffed dismissively. “No, definitely not.”

“Well, you sure have a lot of opinions about me for someone who doesn’t know me.” His eyes ran over her again, trying to figure out why she seemed so familiar. She was undeniably beautiful, with delicate features animated by a streak of passion that was not characteristic of the type of woman he’d have gone for before the island.

“Oh, I know all about you, Oliver Queen. If it’s on the internet, I can find it. Not -” her eyes flew to the ceiling as she turned pink, “not that I’ve looked into you!” Her sudden lack of composure was completely unexpected and disarming, and Oliver was intrigued and charmed by the new side of Felicity it revealed. And, if he was being honest, gratified by the suggestion that maybe she was not as immune to him as he originally thought. “It’s just that I work for your company,” she continued, straightening her shoulders and meeting his eyes again as sarcasm crept back into her tone, “and it’s a little hard to avoid hearing about all your little…adventures and mishaps.”

“Hmm,” he answered, covering the dismay he felt at hearing her refer to his past actions when he suddenly, illogically, wanted her to know that he wasn’t that person anymore. “You work for Queen Consolidated?”

“Yeah, I do.” She pinned him with a fierce look. “But don’t go getting any weird ideas. I don’t work for you.”

Felicity rolled her eyes to illustrate how distasteful she found that idea, and to cover up the effect his nearness was having on her. This was Oliver Queen, Frat Boy Extraordinaire, Professional Heartbreaker. She should not be flattered by any interest he showed to her. Anyway, he was probably just talking to her because there was no one else to talk to, as they were both literally imprisoned together. Speaking of, she needed to stop being distracted by Oliver Queen’s whole overwhelmingness, and start figuring out a way out of her handcuffs so she could carry out her plan to infiltrate Dominic Alonzo’s computer. She was lucky that when they caught her counting cards they brought her here, at least. Though she would have preferred that she hadn’t gotten caught at all, so she could have found her way here without the zip-tie cuffs, as she had planned. But dammit, she was new to this. She didn’t know anything about going undercover in an underground casino. As evidenced by the very great misfortune of finding herself trapped with Oliver Queen, of all people. Well, at least his presence solved one problem. “So anyway, how is it that Oliver Queen ends up handcuffed in the back of an underground casino?” she asked, deliberately toning down her attitude in the hopes that he’d prove cooperative.

“I could ask you the same thing, Miss…” he trailed off in question, a clear indication that she should fill in her name, as he tried to figure out how to respond.

The truth was certainly not an option. Even if he could trust her with his secret - and for some inexplicable reason, he did feel generally inclined to trust her - doing so would put her at risk. He couldn’t even tell her a half-truth. Sure, the whole city at this point knew that his step-father was missing, possibly kidnapped, probably dead, but there was no good reason why Oliver Queen would be investigating that. Or that he should have figured out that Alonzo was the person who had him kidnapped.

Felicity met his eyes warily, aware that she didn’t have an acceptable explanation for being there either, and they came to a silent agreement not to press each other for information. For now. “Felicity Smoak,” she supplied.

He smiled. She stared back, refusing to be charmed, even though she detected a hint of dimple.

Needing to get him to stop smiling at her, because she was much more susceptible than she wanted him to know, she hastened on, “It’s good that you’re here, actually, because you can help me.”

Oliver raised his eyebrows. “Help you?” Help her do what? He didn’t expect his co-hostage to have any sort of plan; rather, he was busy trying to figure out how he could convince her to stay calm, and possibly hide in a closet, while he dislocated his thumb, got out of the zip-ties, searched through the office, and then called the police to come rescue them.

It wasn’t an ideal plan; he considered all the variables, all the things that could go wrong. Getting made definitely hadn’t been part of his plan. He’d hoped to sneak in the back without being noticed, not get thrown there with the attention of Alonzo and his thugs. And Felicity proved an even bigger problem. While he could easily hold himself back and take a beating if necessary, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do the same if they threatened her; and if it came to a fight, he wasn’t sure how he was going to preserve his secret.

“Help me get out of these zip-ties,” Felicity answered, taking a deliberate step toward Oliver. Her heart was pounding at what she was about to suggest, but she schooled her expression to appear nonchalant, annoyed by the necessity, even. Not flustered. And definitely, definitely not turned on by the prospect. She took a deep breath. “I need you to get the knife out of my bra.”

Oliver blinked. No words could have been more unexpected coming from her mouth. “What?”

She rolled her eyes to distract from the fact that she was blushing. Eyes firmly locked on the ceiling, she elaborated, “There is a pocketknife in my bra and we can use it to cut our binds.”

Oliver stared at her in wonder, steadfastly ignoring the primal thrill that ran through him at her suggestion. It seemed he had severely underestimated Felicity Smoak. His mind was racing with questions, but the one that he blurted out was “Why do you have a pocketknife in your bra?”

“Mr. Queen!” she flared, exasperated nerves causing her to meet his gaze. “Do you want to get out of here or not?”

Oliver’s mind was suddenly reeling with images of what she was proposing. In an instinctual stalling tactic, he said the first words that came to him. “Mr. Queen was my father.”

Felicity gaped at him.

Oliver shook his head at himself, saying nothing as he attempted to get his head on straight. He considered her plan rationally. Aside from the question of why it was so important to Felicity that she get out of her cuffs, and the mystery of what she planned to do once she was free of them, the fact of the matter was that going along with her plan would free him to search the office without having to dislocate his thumb. Deciding to continue their no-questions truce, he nodded. “Okay. But…,” he trailed off, throat dry as he looked looking down into unexpectedly near wide blue eyes.

Felicity was pretty sure they were both imagining what he was about to do. “Yeah,” she exhaled, suddenly very aware of the cadence of his breaths, his intoxicatingly masculine scent. Throughout the course of their discussion, he had moved closer to her, and now his expressive eyes fixed on her, waiting. “You won’t be able to see what you’re doing, but if you’re standing, I can kneel behind you and you can kind of…feel around.”

Oliver’s eyes widened as she spoke, her matter-of-fact words making the situation more real. More shocking. It wasn’t that he hadn’t done more with women he’d known for less time in much less dire circumstances, but something about touching Felicity in these circumstances felt wrong, like a violation, and he suddenly, irrationally found himself wanting to get to know her first, and to tell her about himself, about the real him. He briefly reconsidered his original plan of dislocating his thumb.

Mortified by Oliver’s reaction to her words, Felicity tried to cut the tension. “I mean, I know it’s not ideal, but I figure it’s gotta be better than the alternative.”

Caught up, Oliver automatically asked, “What’s the alternative?”

Her eyes dropped involuntarily to his lips and she swayed a little toward him as she whispered, “Using your mouth.” But when her eyes flicked up to meet his, neither of them were laughing.

Oliver’s mouth fell open in surprise, his gaze dropping to the deep vee of her bodice, before dragging back up to her face. The action pulled him even closer toward her, and a rush of heat washed over him as he fully took her in for the first time. The red chiffon dress clung to her curves, outlining a deeply feminine, lush body. She was a study in contradictions, watching him through darkly-lashed eyes that were somehow both innocent and knowing; her face lightly dusted with freckles that contrasted alluringly with a sinfully soft mouth. She watched him with dilated pupils and parted lips, and his cock twitched in response.

But then reality crashed back in on him as she interrupted, “Not that I’m suggesting anything! I’m not coming on to you or anything.”

Oliver blinked, trying to regain control by reminding himself where they were and why. Catching her gaze, he nodded in an attempt to reassure her. Hoping that she didn’t pick up on just how affected he himself was.

Felicity took a deep, centering breath. It didn’t make any sense that Oliver Queen was having this effect on her. He was just some shallow billionaire, a douchebag womanizer. None of it made any sense. When he looked at her, it was like he saw her. And as much as she told herself it was impossible, it looked as if he wanted her. No. She had to be projecting. And she didn’t want him to want her, anyway. Sure, he was gorgeous. So, so masculine and touchable he smelled so good, with an essential manliness that was softened by those eyes…but no. He was still Oliver Queen, and the fact that she was so attracted to him only explained why so many women had given in to his appeal, despite the long list of reasons to avoid him. She might have judged those women in the past, but now she could not.

She squared her shoulders, trying to clear the attraction from her mind and prepare for what had to happen next. “So, okay?” She chanced a look in his direction, not quite meeting his eyes.

Oliver nodded, and Felicity took refuge in remembering her mission. After all, she was here to help the Hood, and she could not have her sudden weakness to very handsome men - or rather, one specific very handsome man - getting in the way of that.

“All right, just turn a little to your right,” she directed hoarsely, nodding encouragingly as he complied. “Okay, stop there. I’ll position myself so you should be able to locate the knife relatively easily.” She lowered herself to the ground behind him as she was speaking, her voice only slightly wavering with the awareness that Oliver Queen was about to feel her up. “It’s on the left side,” she rambled, masking her response to the feeling of his surprisingly rough fingers dipping below her bodice, carrying on as if this were normal, as if she were directing someone to the library, as if Oliver Queen’s very large hands weren’t currently sliding along the sides of her breasts…her words tapered off and she bit her bottom lip, concentrating on not moaning out loud because oh god, his fingers brushed against her nipple and her body responded as if he was tugging on a string tied directly to her thrumming core.

Oliver squeezed his eyes shut, trying to be quick, methodical, and clinical, but he had felt enough breasts in his life to know that Felicity Smoak’s were a rarity. As much as he tried to stay on task,he found himself getting distracted, unable to stop the picture that drifted through his mind. Perfect breasts, not large, but extremely full; firm but very soft, with tight nipples that his fingertips couldn’t help brushing over repeatedly as he wedged his large hand into the tight space of her bodice. Tight, very sensitive nipples, he corrected unhelpfully, judging by the way she gasped softly in response to his inadvertent touches. As her voice trailed off, he remained aware of the soft catching of her breath, and even with his back to her, he he felt completely in tune with her, much more intimately than if they had only been having sex. Finally, his fingers touched upon warm metal, and even though the entire encounter lasted less than fifteen seconds, he was out of breath as he withdrew the pocketknife and turned to meet her eyes. His dick was rock hard, and the look she returned him said she was equally affected.

She was staring up at him, speechless, so he took the lead, flipping open the knife and directing her in a soft voice, “Turn around. I’ll cut your ties.”

Felicity nodded silently, turning so that they were back to back and trusting that he wouldn’t cut her as he twisted around to line her zip-ties up with the blade. “Okay,” he told her when the knife was in position, “try an up and down sawing motion,” and they easily and wordlessly fell into a rhythm that quickly parted the plastic around her wrists.

“Oh thank god,” she exhaled as her hands came free. She instantly started rubbing her wrists, then silently turned to take the knife.

Oliver felt her warm hand close around his wrists, steadying him as she positioned the blade against his ties. He took a steadying breath as she freed him. “I probably shouldn’t do this,” she commented, “since my plan is to maintain the illusion that we’re still tied up and that would be easier to do if you actually were still tied up, but I have to admit that I’ll feel safer if your hands are free.” With a final tug, the plastic came apart, but she didn’t release his hands immediately. Inexplicably, her words inflated him with a disproportionate sense of pride and purpose. He liked that she felt safe with him, that even without knowing his alternate identity, and despite her pre-existing opinion of Oliver Queen, she somehow trusted him. He was struck with an acute desire to be worthy of that trust, and a deep yearning to prove to her that it was not misplaced.

After a long moment, Felicity dropped his hands, taking large step backward in a move designed to decrease the tension. Truthfully, she was a little impressed by Oliver Queen. He was a lot more gentle, sensitive, and thoughtful than she would have thought. She had expected him to be obnoxious, entitled, and immature, the type of person who, finding himself in this situation, would either panic or make a joke of the whole thing. Either way, she’d have expected him to be throwing his money around trying to save himself, not quietly and calmly following her lead. And no way would she have predicted he was capable of being so respectful of her body. Probably more respectful of her body than she was being of his. Not that she had forced him to feel her up…but she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t enjoyed it. Fleetingly, she wondered if it counted as sexual harassment to get turned on when a man was merely trying to locate a knife in your bra so you could escape a kidnapping situation.

For his part, Oliver’s admiration for Felicity was growing exponentially. She was much more resourceful and level headed than he would have expected anyone to be in her situation. From the moment she opened her mouth, she’d already proven herself smarter and more sensible than most people in his experience - she had a cautious, strategic manner that he was unused to in other people.

“So now what?” he asked, caught up in the intelligence in her eyes, the mystery of her presence. Even though he was the one with a plan and she was technically just an inconvenience, he momentarily set that aside because he just wanted to know. He wanted to know what she was planning to do. He wanted to know her. “You mentioned you have a plan, one that requires your hands be free,” he prodded, hoping she would fill in some pieces of the puzzle.

“That’s for me to know,” she countered playfully, holding his gaze as she reached into her bra, pulling something else out, “and you to find out.”

His eyes widened and dropped to her chest before snapping back up, unsure if she meant anything by it. Again, it was the last thing he expected. And again, it set his heart racing.

“Or, I mean, not to find out. There will be no finding out, from you. Just stay there and look pretty.” Her eyes grew rounder. “Not that you’re pretty, it’s just an expression. Just sit there.” She backed away until she ran into the desk, and then she dropped to the ground and started feeling around underneath it.

He watched her with amused eyes, interested in her actions and utterly captivated by her. “I’m not pretty?” he pressed, curious to know how she would react.

Her head popped up from the other side of the desk, sending him an exasperated look. “No! I mean, yes! Very pretty like, really very attractive, objectively speaking I mean, I’m not coming on to you. It’s science; you’re scientifically pretty.” Her head disappeared again beneath the desk.

Oliver stood up, drawn to her, until he was leaning over the desk looking down at her ass protruding from under the desk. “Scientifically pretty?”

Felicity visibly startled, then took a deep breath, then carefully, and with as much dignity as possible, crawled backwards and rose out from under the desk, smoothing down her hair. She arched her brow at him. “Don’t tell me you’re one of these anti-science climate change denier people.”

Oliver guffawed, unable to come up with a fitting response. She was unlike anyone he’d ever come across. Instead of answering, he watched as she sat herself at the desk and instantly penetrated the password protection, diving with singular focus directly into the files on Alonzo’s computer. “What are you doing?” he asked after a moment, fascinated by her actions. He knew time was precious, that he should be taking the opportunity to riffle through drawers, search filing cabinets, etc., but rather than pursue his mission, he couldn’t help but pull at the loose thread that was Felicity Smoak.

She lifted distracted eyes to him, giving the distinct impression that he had yanked her out of a very deep concentration, despite the fact that it had only been twenty seconds since she’d sat down. He expected her to crack another joke, but instead she blinked and said seriously, “It’s better you don’t know,” before returning her attention to the computer.

Surprised, Oliver slipped off the desk he’d been casually leaning against, the hair raising on the back of his neck; her words were like a warning, almost ominous. Who was she? Why was she here? What was she involved in? Habits shaped over the past five years forced him to question her motives: honest people rarely found themselves involved with guys like Dominic Alonzo; he had to consider that Felicity might not be as innocent as she seemed; he had to wonder if she might even be on the list. But as soon as the thought surfaced, he dismissed it. His five years away had also taught him to trust his instincts, and every single part of him was shouting at him to trust her.

“Okay,” she announced a few seconds later, “I need you to come here and keep an eye on this feed.”

Oliver stepped up beside her to where she was pointing at CCTV footage in a corner of the computer monitor. “What is that?”

“Security feed, showing the corridor just outside. This way we can know ahead of time if anyone’s coming.” Her eyes returned to the screen, where she was still methodically searching through the computer’s files.

“Felicity,” Oliver said firmly, coming to a decision even as his eyes obediently remained glued on the feed.

“Hmm?”

Oliver took a deep breath, his racing mind rapidly drawing conclusions that he couldn’t quite believe were true. But every objection he came up with was easily disproved; rather, every detail about her only seemed to confirm the picture that was forming in his mind.

Huli jing.

“Felicity,” he repeated, and this time the name felt familiar on his tongue, like he had been saying it his whole life, like he had been born to say it. “You need to tell me why you’re here.”

He knew. There was no denying it; when she spoke, it was with the voice he’d been hearing in his head for seven months. When she smiled, it was with the unique humor that had amused him like nothing else had been able to do since returning from the island. And when she looked at him, it was with eyes that perceived all the things he didn’t say. It was her. But he needed to hear her say it.

“Oliver, look,” she began, unexpectedly turning to meet his eyes. He was nearly flattened by the look of sincere regret and conviction in her eyes. “I’m sorry about before, what I said.”

His eyebrows draw together in confusion.

“When I said you hadn’t changed. I was wrong. The person the tabloids make you out to be - that’s not who you are. And I’m sorry I misjudged you.”

Oliver’s lips parted in surprise. “That’s not -”

“No, it is necessary,” she pressed, misunderstanding what he was going to say. “I made assumptions, and they were completely unfair.” Over his protests, she continued, “I don’t know what you did out there to piss off the casino bosses, but I’m really sorry you’re caught up in this. Please,” she emphasized, “just believe me when I tell you that the less you know, the safer you’ll be.” She reached out a hand but started to pull it back before it made contact with his chest, and he caught it between his own before she could fully withdraw.

“Felicity.” He fixed her with a steady, knowing look, and he heard her breath catch, and felt her pulse pick up under his fingers. “I need to ask you something.”

Felicity’s eyes widened at his sudden, inexplicable intensity and focus. She had no idea Oliver Queen was capable of such depth and sincerity. His large hands were cradling her, his thumb soothing over her wrist, and she had long ago surrendered to that penetrating look in his eyes. “What?” she breathed, not knowing what Oliver Queen could tell her that required so much intensity and passion, but suddenly very much wanting to find out.

His words were the last thing she expected to hear. “Are you here because of the Hood?”

Her stomach dropped. “What?”

Before he could respond, he caught sight of someone on the security feed walking up the hallway. “Someone’s coming!”

She turned to the feed, then instantly went to the computer and, with a blur of hands on the keyboard, logged off and put the monitor to sleep. There was no time for anything else, so without thinking any further, Oliver reached around her body, pressing her wrists together behind her in an approximation of being handcuffed, secured his own hands behind his back, then pressed his mouth to hers in an urgent kiss.

Felicity gasped in surprise, and he instinctively used the opportunity to deepen the kiss, coaxing her lips open, his tongue seeking hers. After a stunned moment, she responded with ardor, the passion exploding like a match to dry tinder.

Kissing her was like putting the last piece of the puzzle in place.

For seven months, he had been drawn to the woman with intriguingly contradictory parts: a dizzyingly sharp partner who amused and irritated and charmed and inspired him.

For seven months, the more space he allowed her in his mission, the wider the empty hole that only she could fill had become in his life. He hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge it, but meeting her face to face meant he could no longer deny how he felt about her. He had been drawn to her since he saw her, his body seeking any excuse to touch hers. Everything about her provoked and challenged and called to him; her passion, her intelligence, her humor, her bravery, and the glimpses of vulnerability.

She was the woman he’d been waiting for, and if the way she was responding to him was any indication, she’d been waiting for him too.

He bore down on her, covering her with his body, and it was everything he could do to keep his hands behind his back. The need to touch her is like electricity in his veins, and he forgot everything but the urgent need to be close to her.

“What’s going on?” The voice broke into the moment like a bucket of cold water.

Oliver’s lips released Felicity’s reluctantly, and she met his eyes as she pulled back. Her pupils were nearly black, her lips parted and swollen, and the sight sent a jolt through his body to his already throbbing dick.

“Oliver Queen, you really can’t control yourself, can you?” asked Dominic Alonzo, striding into the room. “I’d almost be impressed if you weren’t such a pain in my ass.”

Oliver glanced once more at Felicity, and the last thought he had before turning his attention to Alonzo was that she looked utterly shell-shocked.

…to be continued…

#arrow #olicity #olicity secret santa #goodbye olicity #submission

62 notes · View notes

flwrguk · 5 years

Text

criminal (spencer reid x reader)

summary: as a thrill-seeking killer, you taunt and humiliate the authorities going after you. you always kill where there is surveillance so those watching you will see every detail. capturing one of the agents made your adrenaline rush. you made sure there was always a camera facing the agent, laughing at how easy it was to catch them, and how hard it is for them to catch you. it made your blood rise, increasing the sexual gratification in what you do. feeling so overwhelmed by your feelings, you seduce the agent on camera. he slowly falls for your charms, and when he does, you cut the live feed and untie him. expecting him to tie you, he takes you right then and there.

warnings: smut, mentions of killing, quite a few curse words.

key: (y/n) - your name; (y/l/n) - your last name

word count: 2,505

note: please read at your own risk. this contains smut. this is inspired by the song criminal by britney spears. please note these are pre-written on my laptop. any errors are currently unnoticed as my editing process will begin later on. lowercase intended. gif credits to owner.

*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅**⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅**⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*

“hello, can i help you?” the perky girl answers the door.

you grin sinisterly. “do you have a telephone i can use to call my mom? she left me at the store by accident and my phone’s dead so i can’t really reach out to her.”

“yeah, of course, come in!” the girl steps aside, letting you inside. she led you to the kitchen and you noticed a camera in the corner of the room.

smirking, you grab the rolling pin on the island and smack her in the back of her head, causing her to fall. you get on top of her, grabbing the needle from up your sleeve and injecting the liquid into her neck. she fails to scream for help, her eyes closing and her body went limp. chuckling, you grab the laptop on the kitchen table and hack into the fbi’s servers. you connect the camera in the corner of the room with the camera on the laptop.

“guys? she’s back and she’s live, right now.” penelope bursts out of her lair.

“can you see me?” you ask, a twisted smile on your face. “can you hear me, agents?” you laugh.

“can you trace the feed?” derek asks.

“i’m trying, it’s bouncing from almost every country.” penelope quickly types.

“i’m back,” you say in a sing-song manner. “did you miss me?”

“there’s a teenage girl on the floor!” emily points out.

“i’m going to walk you through this kill. first, we blitz attack the target using a weapon available in the target’s house. for this one, i used this dumb ass rolling pin. the annoying bitch was trying to make homemade pizza.” you roll your eyes. “anyways, we inject the propofol so she will stop whining.” you hold up the used needle.

“oh god,” penelope says.

“now, we have fun!” you grab the knife from the kitchen and begin making lacerations all over her body after you declothe her. “and to make sure she doesn’t scream if she wakes up, we put a gag in her mouth. now, this is going to be really fun, i’m telling you.” you grin.

“garcia,” spencer says in a warning tone.

“i’m trying! i’m trying!” she types faster.

“now, you might be wondering where i am. who’s the owner of this place? where are the parents? well, the parents are out on business. this girl is seventeen-year-old carrie mills. the address is 4302 harvard lane. come catch me, agents, that is, if you can.” you smirk, cutting the live feed.

you continue to slice the body for about a few minutes before heading upstairs to take a shower and change out of your bloody clothes. leaving from the back, you hop into the getaway car you parked earlier. putting on sunglasses and throwing your hair up in a bun, you sit and wait until the black suv’s pull up.

you watch the agents rush inside with their bulletproof vests. laughing, you shake your head and start the car. throwing a piece of paper on the asphalt, you drive off, watching them from the rearview mirror. not only did you stream the feed to the bureau, you streamed it on big networks across the country. of course, your face was blurred to the rest of the country, but not to the bureau. you want them to see you.

“hotch, i think i’ve got something,” spencer says into his radio, picking up the note with his gloves.

“what is it?” aaron asks, running up to spencer.

“she was just here. she dropped a note.” spencer unravels it. “it says, ‘did you have fun watching me? were you entertained? i gave you the girl’s name and address, yet you failed to arrive on time. i even had the pleasure of showering. yet, you still couldn’t get here on time. why didn’t you stop me? you just kept watching. now that’s just poor law enforcement skills. catch me if you can, my dear agents. but take my word for it when i say you’re going to be next. come find me, agents.’”

“she’s taunting us.” aaron looks away.

“i know.” spencer sighs.

you head to your safe house, laughing most of the way there. parking the car, you go inside and open your laptop. you watch them comb through the house through the cameras already set there. keeping your eye on one specific agent, you take a bite out of the apple in your hand. you smirk, listening in on their conversations on how they can’t seem to catch you or how they have no strategy at the moment to capture you. you decide to leave another message, but at the bureau.

“hotch,” aaron answers his phone.

“she just left another message,” penelope says with fear in her voice. “it says, ‘if you can’t catch me, then i will catch you because i can. however, i only want one of you. figure it out. who do i want? i’ll be back soon, agents, and that is a promise.’”

“garcia,” aaron starts.

“i sent the message to your phones. sir, i’m scared.” penelope’s eyes begin to shake back and forth from the multitude of screens in her lair.

“she won’t get you. stay in the bureau, she will never go there.” aaron hangs up.

“is this some kind of sick game?” derek asks, holding up his phone.

“who does she want? and why does she want one of us?” david asks, furrowing his brows.

“all of her victims have only been female,” jj starts, “so what if it could be emily, garcia, or me?”

“we can’t rule that out,” spencer says, “but we shouldn’t rule out us guys. she could change her m.o in the blink of an eye.”

“maybe she’s a lesbian, getting back at women for hurting her,” emily suggests.

“let’s all get back to the bureau, we have more to discuss.” aaron turns, heading for the car.

you laugh when you walk into your favorite room. you sit, grabbing a knife from the table and cleaning it thoroughly. you glide your finger against the blade, liking the sharpness of the blade. you put the knife back down, grabbing another to do the same thing. you stand, humming a nursery rhyme as you walk around the room staring at your collection of weaponry.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

leaving your house, you drive over to the bureau. sitting in the car, parked under a tree, you watch as spencer leaves the bureau alone. smirking, you exit the car and walk over to him. his back is facing you and you knock him out from the back of his head. dragging him to your car, you drive over to your main house. you go to the basement, sitting him in the chair in the middle of the room.

you leave, making your way upstairs to make you both something to drink. you don’t plan on killing him, only because you kill women. you head back downstairs, placing the drinks on the table. sitting across from spencer, you wait for him to wake up.

“(y/n)?” he calls out.

smirking, you stand from where you sat. walking to him, you cup his cheeks, caressing his cheeks. booping his nose, you turn around and head back to the table. you grab the laptop across the room and stream the feed to the bureau.

“why, hello, agents,” you smirk.

“she’s got reid!” penelope yells. “she’s got reid!”

“(y/n), what are you doing?” spencer asks.

“entertaining the audience.” you sit in his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. “but i don’t plan on killing you. i only take women, you know.” you tilt your head, looking into his beautiful eyes.

“we profiled you as a lesbian,” spencer says.

“i am not a lesbian. full respect for everyone in the community because people deserve to be who they truly are. i’m straight, spencer, very straight and very into you.” your eyes darken, filling with lust.

“(y/n),” spencer says.

you get up from his lap, walking over to the laptop. grinning, you wink at the camera.

“enjoying the show, agents?” you laugh. “i told you i will catch you because i can.”

“why do you only take women, (y/n)?” spencer asks, coughing a little.

“because i had a bitch best friend who took everything from me. it used to be just my dad and me, but she seduced my father, took my trust fund, and left me for dead. instead, i came back. i went to see that bitch and i killed her. and it felt good. really, spencer, it felt good,” you say, facing him. “now, i don’t want to hurt you. i just want to play a little.” you sit in his lap again.

back at the bureau, penelope tried to trace where the feed is coming from. since you’re smart, it’s very hard for your technology to be tracked and traced. you made sure it stayed that way.

“(y/n)? why me?” spencer asks, coughing a little.

“because i like you,” you say, “and you’re one of the cute ones. you’re smart. i like smart. i like nerdy. men like you always come first. men like derek morgan will have to wait a while because they play a little too much. there’s so much to adore about you, spencer, and i adore all of you.” you push his hair behind his ear. “would you like something to drink? i promise you i did not poison the drink or tamper with it. it’s just iced tea.”

“yeah, sure, my throat’s pretty dry.” he nods.

grinning, you get off his lap and walk behind the laptop, grabbing the cup with a straw in it. putting the straw in spencer’s mouth, he hesitates, but he drinks. when his thrist was quenched, he pulled back and you put the cup down. walking back over to him, you sit in his lap.

“can i kiss you?” you ask.

“u-um,” he stutters.

“spencer, have you been kissed before? have you let a woman take control before?” you smirk.

“i-i kissed someone before, b-but it was just once.” he shrugs.

“why don’t i be the second?” you say, connecting your lips with his.

“what is she doing?” jj asks, watching the feed intensely with the rest of the team.

“she’s seducing him.” aaron keeps a straight face.

pulling away from spencer, you look in his eyes. seeing that he tried to connect your lips again, you smirk, getting off of him to tease him. you heard him groan, making you giggle. walking over to the laptop, you bend down to give a view of your full face.

“i think it’s time for us to be alone, agents.” you wink, cutting the feed and closing the laptop.

“(y/n),” spencer says, rattling the cuffs.

“oh, darling, i’m coming.” you walk back to him with the keys. unlocking him, you expected him to pin you against the wall and for the cuffs to be on your wrists.

“when you start something, you have to finish it.” he pinned you against the wall, attacking your lips with his.

you kiss him back, feeling his hands roam your body. telling you to jump, he carries you upstairs. you guide him to your bedroom, stripping at the same time. he laid you down carefully, pulling away from you. he removes his shirt, tossing it somewhere.

“i thought you were going to arrest me.” you tilt your head.

“maybe we can have some fun first.” he smirks, pulling your panties down.

he started with his fingers. pumping in and out of you, circling your clit, kissing your neck, and getting hard from the sound of your moans. he sucked on your neck, definitely leaving hickeys. before you reached your climax, he pulled his fingers out of you, sucking them clean.

he removed his underwear and removed your top and bra. climbing on top of you, he lines his tip with your entrance and presses his lips onto yours as he enters you. you moan, loving the size of him inside of petite, little you.

he thrust in and out of you slowly, waiting until you adjusted to him. when he picked up the pace, you dug your nails into his back. your moans mix with his, the feeling of pleasure taking over your body. spencer picked up the pace, going faster and harder.

“fuck, spencer, oh my god,” you moan. “yes, right there, oh fuck, don’t stop.”

he continues to thrust until his movements become sloppy. the both of you climaxed at the same time, him collapsing beside you. you smirk, getting on top of him. sliding onto his length, you begin to ride him, but painfully slow to tease him.

“fuck,” spencer curses, putting his hands on your hips to help guide you.

he throws his head back in pleasure as you ride him. your pace quickens when you crave more pleasure. your moans become louder as you throw your head back in pleasure. feeling your climax coming, you move faster and rougher to maximize your pleasure.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!” you yell.

the both of you climaxed, you collapsing beside him. the sound of your heavy breaths was the only sound in the room. you look over to him to find a small smile on his face. laughing a little, you roll on top of him and press your lips onto his.

“you did great, babe.” you kiss his lips repeatedly.

“so did you,” he says with a small smirk.

“hurry and get dressed so i can release you back to your team. i’m wanted, remember?” you chuckle, getting up from the bed. you didn’t mind being naked around him.

you get fresh clothes from your wardrobe, slipping them on as spencer, himself, got ready. when the two of you were finally dressed, you made your way down to the basement to the laptop. you send your address to penelope, waiting with spencer until they arrive. when you both heard the sirens, you glance over to spencer. you attack him in a kiss, almost goodbye, and tell him to walk outside.

“hold your fire! hold your fire!” aaron shouts, telling derek to run in and grab spencer.

“you okay, kid?” derek asks.

“i’m okay.” he nods.

“(y/n) (y/l/n), come out of the house!” you hear aaron yell. cooperating, you step out of your house with your hands up.

“i will cooperate,” you say.

“cuff her,” aaron says, motioning for emily to go.

“(y/n) (y/l/n), you are under arrest for the murders of twenty-four women and the kidnapping of a federal agent.” emily cuffs you.

you block out whatever she says, looking over to spencer. he flashes a wink and you smile, winking back at him. shoved into the back of the police car, you turn around so you can see him properly.

“come visit me.” you mouth.

“i will.” he mouths back, nodding.

cheers to the end of your spree. one kill and sex on the same day.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　@literallyprentissstwin　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #matthew gray gubler #mgg x reader #mgg #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #david rossi #aaron hotchner #reid #spencer reid x reader #mgg imagine #matthew gray gubler imagine

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real-jaune-isms · 5 years

Text

White Rose Week Day 2: Role Reversal/Body Swap

The Rose Dust Company held the monopoly on energy propellant and combat use elemental Dust. A fact that it’s CEO Taiyang Rose took very seriously. He married Summer Rose for this very reason afterall, he wanted nothing more than to make a name for himself... though he would be lying if he said he didn’t also love his wife. But their marriage came with baggage, as Taiyang Xiao Long was already a divorcée with a young daughter at the time.

Summer loved her new step daughter, she really did. But she wanted a child of her own, and little Yang would never fit the bill to be the heiress to the company. So Ruby Rose was born of their rocky marriage, and raised with the firm intention of being a proper lady who could inherit the massive company her father was doing his best to run smoothly. And he did so rather well.

Whereas some might have resorted to cheap cruel employment of the marginalized Faunus population, he offered anyone and everyone a fair and safe employment. It was still a dangerous job working the mines, that came with the territory. But working smarter was the best way to get where the company ultimately should be, he thought. The Faunus were still the majority of those who took the jobs, there was such a great need for employment that they couldn’t be picky. But Taiyang made sure to spare very little expense in housing them in relative comfort and making the work safe. And so the empire grew, its reputation mild but formidable for how quickly it took over the industry.

The company’s was not the only reputation that grew, as the daughters of its CEO made names for themselves as time went by. Yang understood that her parentage prevented her from taking up the family business, so she threw herself headlong into the second biggest industry in Remnant, being a Huntress and enrolling at Beacon Academy. Many wondered why she chose Beacon over Atlas, though her fiery personality and flashy manner of dressing discouraged all but the brave from approaching her to ask. Her name and status was able to afford her some luxuries however, such as entry to any nightclub she wished and the money to develop her own huntress weapons. She went with something a bit barbaric for what people would have expected however, guns built into a pair of gauntlets. Still, it got the job done just fine and she became quite the brawler.

Meanwhile the Rose heiress grew into a fine young lady in her own right. Her singing voice wasn’t selling out concert halls, but what did was her years of training with the violin. It was a great activity to keep her hands busy and her mind focused on a single action. And if it could entertain the masses, then why not put on shows? She had had pretty bad stage fright at first, but soon overcame it. But in the back of her mind, there had always been a passion to do more. Her mother would tell her bedtime stories about her own younger days as a huntress, before she had needed to settle down and run the company alongside her husband. But what adventures she had been on made for the best tales of danger and thrills, and Ruby very much wanted to see such sights and do more for the public than she could locked up in private studies or practicing her instrument. She wanted to spend her few young years of freedom from responsibility doing something to help everyone. She wanted to be a Huntress too. And it might have helped that she was so inspired by her half sister’s own exploits and their close bond. Ruby looked up to her sister just as much as her own mom, and she wanted to be just like them.

So she began enthusiastically and rigorously training on the side to wield a weapon and kill the creatures of Grimm. And she wanted to do it using her family’s Dust, so she used her natural technical know how and the mechanical training she had been given to help make sure she knew how the factory machines worked to make her own weapon, a giant mechanical scythe that shot Dust infused sniper bullets. Her training was a great success and her parents were very supportive of her pursuit. She made such great strides in fact that she was able to pass the admissions test to all 4 huntsman academies at the age of 15. She had her pick of schools... but she chose Beacon so she could fight alongside her sister and show the world what the Rose family was made of. Of course... growing up in this kind of family, with such privilege and expectation to be the best would make anyone a bit full of themself...

Meanwhile, the Schnee family lived in the small island of Patch off the coast of Vale. Their patriarch was only barely so, a bitter jaded man who lost his wife to alcoholism a decade ago and took his frustrations out on his two daughters and his son. They had been a happy family once, yes. But after young Whitley was born, the postpartum depression hit Willow Schnee rather hard and she drowned herself in the bottle, so to speak. Jacques Schnee resented that his children were by no fault of their own responsible for the loss of their mother, so he avoided them far more than he should in favor of his job as a teacher and when they were all in the same place he very rarely spoke kindly of them. If they were going to keep existing in this world, they had better make something useful of their lives. Winter, the eldest, had a decade of fond memories of her mother and tried her best to act as a parental figure in her stead. She was kind and strict in equal measures when the situation called for it. Weiss had a few good memories to hold onto, mostly bedtime stories of fairy tale princesses who found handsome princes and fell in love and went of to live in fancy castles instead of little houses in the middle of nowhere. She quite liked the idea of that, but sometimes she wondered why it had to be a prince. Why not two princesses?

The youngest, poor little Whitley, knew very little about his mom but learned all that she had imparted on his big sisters. The three were all perfectly fine and happy children, but they were all certainly realists about how harsh the world could be. Winter enlisted in the Atlesian army as soon as she was able, claiming she wanted to make the world that much safer for her family and the population at large. Weiss likewise wanted to get out of the house and away from her father asap, but didn’t want to go too far for the sake of keeping an eye on Whitely should he need anything. So Beacon Academy was the best choice. Willow had apparently been something of a craftsman in her younger days, and had made two lovely swords that she left to her daughters. Myrtenaster was a rapier with the capability to use Dust in the blade, though there were certainly limited funds to buy enough different types at a consistent rate. But the three pooled their money, earned through hard work at various community odd jobs, to send Weiss off with enough Dust to fill the weapon for the time being. So off she went, to make a name for herself and give some measure of honor to the Schnee name. If only she had been watching where she was going as she arrived at the impressive castle-like structure of Beacon...

*CRASH* went the cart full of suitcases as Weiss tumbled into it and fell to the ground. “Ouch...” she muttered, before hearing a shrill yell. “Careful with that, you dolt! There’s enough dust in there to be worth triple what you’ll make in a lifetime!” Weiss looked up to see a girl in a rather formal looking red combat outfit, complete with a combat skirt much like her own. “I’m sorry, I was just taking in the view...” “Sorry wouldn’t mean anything if you blew up and cost my family thousands! Just trying to warn you, okay?” Ruby responded, being aware enough to see this girl was truly sorry and had no ill will, but still wanting to keep her property safe. “Well you could be a bit nicer about it, Princess...” Weiss grumbled as she wiped the dirt off her clothes and stood up, trying to help load the bags back on the cart. “This really is a lot of Dust though.. where did you get all of it?” “From the family mines of course. I AM Ruby Rose of the Rose Dust company of course~”

That got Weiss’ attention very quickly, and she spun back around to look at the quasi-celebrity. “Wow, I’ve heard a lot about your company! How you’ve revolutionized the market and all manner of technology for mining and using Dust! It’s so nice to meet you, I’m Weiss Schnee!” She stuck out a hand, and Ruby smiled at the praise she was getting and shook it. “Good to meet you too, Weiss. Sorry for the snappiness, just really don’t want any accidents with this stuff...” “I understand, I researched this stuff a lot in preparation for coming here. Why are you here though? I mean, a prodigy huntress and heiress to the largest company in the world, why go to school in Vale?” “Mostly? My mom.” Ruby replied with a shrug, neither girl realizing they were still holding hands. They soon did though, and let go with a blush. “Well... same here.” Weiss said with a bit of melancholy to her voice. “She’s... no longer with us and her dream was to make weapons that professional huntresses would use to protect the world. So my sister and I enlisted at academies and use our mom’s swords to do just that.”

Ruby smiled at that. “A noble ambition. My mom was a huntress before she got married, and my big sister wants to be one too. So I figured why not spend some time in the family business before I have to settle into... the other family business?” Weiss nodded. “Makes sense to me. So, should we go to the main hall for orientation?” “I think we should. I also think this is the start of a great friendship...” And indeed it was, though it would end up being so much more.

#white rose week #white rose #ruby rose #weiss schnee #white rose week 2019 #white rose week day 2 #day 2: role reversal/body swap #taiyang xiao long #summer rose #yang xiao long #jacques schnee #willow schnee #winter schnee #whitley schnee

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restorerjourney · 3 years

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Week 5 of 7 in Mazatlán

July 31, 2021

This week started with hardships for me personally but ended with victories, deeper unity with Christ and our team, and freedom. When I create my weekly reels on instagram for this week I was surprised to realize that there were so many clips of us dancing with flags which represents freedom! Freedom is not just a feeling but a revelation of who we are and what God has given us the authority over. It’s a lot to take it in and I feel that I might understand it more in hindsight what God is making us go through as a team.

To start off, like I said before the beginning of week was really rough. One of our team members decided to start a relationship with another team member at a different DTS and they both are here in Mazatlan. The rules were clear when we signed up for DTS that during DTS we shouldn’t start dating with another DTS student because we want this season to fully focus on God. It sounds harmless to date, but now as a team we could see the repercussions. Although the leaders were lenient during our lecture phase, during outreach phase they drew the line clear that they should put their relationship on pause only until after the outreach is over. This is because we are going as a team..we are in a foreign country..our purpose is to serve the nation that we are going to..etc etc. It’s obvious why, but that couple struggled and despite them thinking it was a private matter, it affected our team’s unity and trust. Long story short, God intervened in our team..in his heart..and in mine. The old Alicia would have been apathetic about how he felt and focused more on the boundaries that we crossed, but I felt the Lord change my heart during DTS. The Lord really guided me on how to approach my fellow team member who is like my little brother and learn to not judge him but to empathize with him. God showed me how to be with him in the hurting yet teach him the effects of the choices you make and how there will always be a cause and effect in life. It took so much out of me, but I am so glad God intervened the way he did and because we all do fear the Lord, were able to come back together as one. They decided to obey the Lord, to submit to the leaders and the rules, and surrender their relationship to God. It was a fight worth fighting for and I feel like I’m learning a glimpse of what parenting could actually look like LOL ( Dear Lord have mercy).

Literally almost every day or every other day, one of our team member would be spiritually attacked. But I see each time that it happens, we would all gather, interceded, pray, declare God’s truth, repent, and be restored. It’s so exhausting but so beautiful. This time I got attacked mid-week when I was getting impatient of not getting my period and letting doubt enter my mind. I knew God told me that I was healed and to trust in His promises just like Abraham had to trust God when he was told to sacrifice Isaac. It made no sense why I was going through this...I was feeling “God why did you even let me go through that healing process? Wouldn’t it been better if I didn’t go through it?”. and that’s when I realized I had to repent of this old habit of mine that I allow myself to think that my ways are better than God’s. God told me I was healed, he told me it was my declaration of no longer agreeing to self-hatred that restored me, and to trust in His promises that I will be a mom one day. I just was getting so tired of waiting, not knowing, so I asked a sister from a different DTS to pray for me. When she prayed for me with another friend it was pretty weird. She was shaking and screaming and although she warned me about it before, I was kind of scared. During the entire time of praying I didn’t hear much from the Lord but just focused my eyes on him. She shared that she felt so much strongholds over me and that I need to repent of any ancestral sins. I prayed about it but God didn’t really highlight anytime for me. I then shared that experience with my parents and they were pissed haha. They were like “ who told you this? What are they teaching you”..and I realize then it was their involuntary parental bear instinct that was coming out of them because they didn’t agree with what she said at all. And then that’s when I realized, did I personally hear anything from God about it...and the answer was no, but I believed her. I started to question everything and everyone who prayed over me and that I believed without going before God and confirming it.

I realized then that I was getting too comfortable of getting prophetic words and relying on someone’s physical voice speaking over me compared to the internal voice that I hear from God which requires faith. I had to repent and was reminded by God that I hear His voice best for me and that’s because of Jesus. That usually when people pray or have a prophetic word for me, it’s to confirm what was already told to me. Just because some random person comes up to you and speaks something true about your life and it sounds good, if you don’t hear this from the Lord yourself or if he doesn’t confirm it...it’s probably not from God. They say it like this, if you get a prophetic word, just put it on a shelf, don’t just directly receive it. I knew what God said to me the day I got healed a month ago and I am given a chance again to cling on to God’s timing.

Because the pandemic is still pretty bad here we are still limited to not be able to continue our alpha course or go to Stone Island, but we’ve been doing intercessory prayer. We also got to do bible distribution at a new neighborhood. The moment we got off the trucks, a lady who works at the store told us to come and gave us free cold water! It was so encouraging to see how God was using her to refresh us before we gave out bibles. During our time there, couple team members felt a dark presence over some of the homes and it happened to be those who refused to receive the bibles. I met a lady named Olga who had right knee pain and when we prayed for her, she felt better and was so thankful for what we were doing to her community. I met another man who looked sick when he came out and I asked, he said he had COVID. We always wear our masks and kept our distance but for a split second there was fear in my heart but I felt the Lord asking me to pray for him. We socially distanced ourselves and I prayed for healing, for protection for his family, and he was so encouraged. To be honest, we have been encountering more and more people with COVID and it really is by God’s grace that there has been no outbreaks in our team or at the baes.

We did street evangelism too which was really cool that I want to tell you guys about. I’ve never done this before with any other mission’s team in my life but we had no agenda but just asked God as a team what he wanted us to do. We asked God where, who, and what we were going to do. Each team member would share what God spoke to them and it’s like a puzzle piece that we put together of what God is trying to lead us. We felt God has highlighted to focus on children this week. He showed us doing nails and braiding hair for the kids..he showed us doing a dance routine for them ( since they love BTS here)... he showed us giving candies...he showed us doing prophetic art with them.. and he showed us playing soccer with them. We prepared as much as we could and finally we asked God where and he led us to a park close to the base. We shared with each other that even if one kid showed up, that the one kid is worth it in Jesus’s eyes. We went and everyone we met ended up being children! I met a girl named Wendy and her sister who wanted to get their nails done. We sanitized our hands of course and wore masks as I did her nails. We got to know each other and I shared the gospel with her. She accepted Christ but it is perhaps because she was Catholic. I shared with her that being a Christian is not just about being good to be accepted, that despite us not being good, we are accepted. I believe she really felt the love of God.

The last highlighted ministry for me was Racham’s ministry which in Hebrew, Racham means “mercy”. This Christian organization is under YWAM but is also funded by the government. They focus on children from the slums who were abandoned, sexually, physically, emotionally abused, and are in need of help. We are not allowed to post any pictures on social media because of the government and for outside volunteers, we can only visit them once a week for 2 hours. The leaders there asked if we could teach them about unity. There are currently 15 children there, almost 60% boys, 40% girls all under the age of mid teens. We created a skit for them based on 1 Corinthians 12: 14-22 and although it was hard work, they loved it. We did a drawing activity, painted their nails, provided sandwiches and juice, and played soccer with them. They shared in the end how thankful they are to us and one of them shared their testimony of how God has been working in his life. I could see God’s life in his eyes and all the children were so precious. What broke my heart as we were walking back to the base was what each child has gone through. All the girls were raped, and all the boys either sold drugs or were addicted to drugs. One of the boy was found homeless and alone for 2 weeks because his father abandoned him. It hurts my heart so much right now even typing this because when I played with them before knowing, I wouldn’t have ever guessed they went through hell at such a young age. They are so precious to Jesus...and as much as I am angry against the injustice towards them, God reminds me that those offenders will get judgement from Him. He reminds me that although those children are poor on earth, theirs is the kingdom of heaven and they have such a great inheritance. I feel so privileged to get to meet them and love on God’s children.

I can’t believe I’ve been living here for over a month and this is the longest I have been in outreach. I think I am getting used to the humidity? but there are times it kicks my butt and I’m sweating like I’m in a sauna. The food has been difficult too since Mexico doesn’t have that many healthy options and almost everything is too sweet or too salty. The food tastes good don’t get me wrong, but knowing my body, it hasn’t been adjusting well, but I’m managing as best as I can. Oh I almost forgot, we had an extra $3-4,000 donation given to us as a team so after prayer, we decided as a team to pour half of it to a church plant in Stone Island, and the other half for those who are in need of oxygen tanks at Calvary Chapel which is where the pastor who is church planting in Stone Island attends. Right now, Mazatlan is doing the worst out of all of Mexico and the hospitals are at full capacity so those who need oxygen are having to buy them or wait till there is room at the hospital.

I also had some extra fundings sent by friends and after prayer I felt the Lord asking me to pour it all on 4 different missionaries here at the base. I’m so grateful that just as those who obeyed and financially supported me, I could do the same for someone else and bridge my friend to help those in need in Mazatlan.

I’m also enjoying my experience in Mazatlan once a week by trying out different local restaurants, buying tourist souvenir’s for friends, and seeing the different parts of the city. We only have 2 more weekends after this so despite feeling tired and ready to go home at times, I want to look back and have no regrets that I could have done more.

Prayer requests:

1) Grace and endurance to finish this race strong. That we would give it our all and still ask for greater things that God has in store for us to see in Mazatlan. I’m still asking God to not let me be comfortable and content for what He already has done but for even more!

2) Unity. We’ve been reading Hebrews and Psalm together as a team, and our unity held by Christ is what allows us to thrive and not just survive.

3) Health protection: We all have been feeling pretty fatigued.Yoonkyung has tendonitis on her right thumb and wrist, Esther has food poisoning, I have back, shoulder, and neck pain with no cycle still, and Sebin has back pain too. As we encounter more people with COVID during ministry, would we be protected and that we wouldn’t carry to the locals here.

Thank you amigos and amigas <3

Alicia

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olicitysecretsanta · 7 years

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A Tree Full of Hope

Olicity Secret Santa Story – A Tree Full of Hope

The season of sharing upon us and it was a true delight to write this for @onceuponanolicity. It’s a fluffy AU with no Island back story. I hope you enjoy it, Heather, and Happy Holidays! Wishing you Season’s Greetings, Vanessa (@vaelizamaza).

A cold shiver ran down the length of her back as she hurried down the gravel path in front of her. She pulled her hands out of her pockets, momentarily stopping to pull the ends of her coat together in one last attempt to get the crappy zipper to finally work and help stave off the cold, early Sunday morning air. Hearing the familiar crack of the zipper as it wound its way up the front of her jacket to finally offer her a modicum of protection from the frigid temperatures, she quickly smiled and hoped luck was finally smiling down on her. She continued along the path and looked up. She could see an old wooden sign letting her know that she was almost to her destination. Why, oh, why was she out in this early morning frost hunting for a Christmas tree when she was Jewish, she asked herself? Then she remembered the group of children she had been tutoring at the local community center and knew she needed to bring them a real tree for them to enjoy this holiday season, especially after hearing one of the kids remarking that the only pine tree they had seen was the little cardboard one hanging from the rearview mirror of their Mom’s boyfriend’s car. That little nugget of information was exactly what reinforced her decision to brighten these children’s holiday season.

Felicity kept walking until she could fully see the wooden sign more clearly. The raised letters on the wooden sign proclaimed, “Queen Family Farm” in faded red, peeling paint. She looked around her surroundings and saw rows and rows of pine trees in front of her at every stage of growth. She continued walking toward a row of smaller trees that barely came up to her waist. She crouched down next to one with full bushy branches, leaned her nose into it, inhaled the clean, woodsy pine scent it gave off naturally and sighed. It reminded her of the Ramirez household from her childhood growing up in Las Vegas. Whenever Felicity’s Mom had to work late at night, the Ramirez family always opened their home to her. Mrs. Ramirez always made sure her family had a real pine tree every year for Christmas. During the holidays, she would make tamales as a special treat for the family and would even have a special batch just for Felicity that contained no lard so she could join them at their holiday meal.”

“That little tree needs a few more years before I’d recommend you taking it home, Miss,” a voice stated breaking her out of her reverie.

Felicity looked up behind her and saw a kindly looking older gentleman with bright blue eyes staring down at her. He wore a pair of faded jeans, red checkered flannel shirt and a brown suede jacket lined with fleece to help keep him warm. She smiled back at him and asked, “Oh, does it have to be a certain height before you cut it like how puppies have to be a certain age before you adopt them?”

The older gentleman chuckled, shook his head no and replied, “Nothing like that Miss. It’s just that most people like their trees to be at least 6 feet or taller.” His laughing blue eyes smiled down on her. He added, “I don’t think anyone has ever asked me that question before and my family’s been growing these trees on this farm for over three generations.”

“So, you’re Mr. Queen?” she asked.

“Please, Miss, call me Robert,” he requested. “My father was Mr. Queen.”

“Then you must call me Felicity,” she replied and extended her right hand to him, which he promptly shook.

He nodded his head toward another row of trees to the right of him and added, “You might want to take a look at the trees growing in the rows over yonder, Felicity.”

She smiled back at the older gentleman. “I’m not sure those trees will fit in my car,” she informed him as visions of her little red and white Mini-Cooper popped into her head. She wasn’t even all that confident that the little tree she had been eyeing would even fit in her back seat. Not to mention the fact that anything taller than her and the children at the community center wouldn’t be able to decorate it, she thought.

Robert’s eyes grew somber and he asked, “Do you mean the Dearden Children’s Center?”

Felicity mentally face palmed herself, nodded her head yes, smiled and answered, “I volunteer there as a math tutor. I had hoped to buy them a little tree to decorate and brighten up the center for the holidays, especially since it’s going to be closing for good soon.”

The older man’s eyes hardened for a moment and he looked down as he removed the work gloves from his hands. When he looked back up at Felicity, she noticed that his eyes had softened. Then Robert asked, “I thought that place was funded by one of the local families?”

Felicity shrugged her shoulders and replied, “I don’t know all the specifics, only that the major benefactor passed away recently. Her family no longer lives here anymore. I guess since they don’t live here, there’s no one left who can support the center financially.”

The older gentleman smirked and looked away from her toward the row of trees he had pointed out to her earlier. He turned back to face her, leaned his head in the direction of where he had just been looking and suggested, “I think you’ll find what you’re looking for over there.”

Felicity smiled at the older man and started towards the row of trees he was suggesting. The first few trees were definitely-too tall for her to handle. She continued walking down the row of trees, when just as she was getting ready to start questioning the wisdom of the man’s suggestion, there in the middle of this section of pines, stood a tree that looked like every Hallmark Channel Christmas movie tree she had ever seen. It was perfect. Not too tall or too short, this tree had full bushy branches perfect for the paper garland she planned on having the children create out of different geometric shapes. She began to take a few steps back to admire the tree, when she stepped into a small hole in the ground and lost her balance. As her body fell back, she heard someone say, “I’ve got you,” then felt two strong arms encircle her as she fell on top of a hard body, cushioning her fall.

Felicity braced her hands on broad shoulders beneath her, pushed her torso up a little and opened her eyes to see who her rescuer could be. All she could think of was that she was looking into the bluest eyes she had ever seen.

“Thank you,” her rescuer replied with a smile that brightened his face and caused little butterflies to flutter in her stomach. He had just the right amount of scruff to make him look rugged without

Felicity scrambled up and off her rescuer, slightly embarrassed she had expressed that sentiment out loud. “I’m so sorry I fell on top of you,” she stammered. “I should have been more careful of where I was going.”

“No worries,” replied her rescuer as he too stood up and shook the fallen pine needles that covered his back.

His bright smile was infectious. She smiled in return and offered, “Let me help you with that.” Felicity proceeded to wipe away the pine needles he was not able to reach on his back. She continued to smile and couldn’t help but admire the broad shoulders that filled out his suede jacket and how nicely his form-fitting jeans looked from behind. “I’m Felicity by the way and thank you for saving me from my klutziness.”

“I’m Oliver,” the man said as he turned around to face her, leaned in and whispered, “and you’re welcome.” They stood there smiling at each other for a long moment, when the clearing of a throat grabbed both of their attention.

“Son, Felicity here is looking for a tree for the kids down at the Dearden Center,” Robert explained with a sad look in his eye.

Oliver looked at his Father for a moment and frowned. Moira’s place more like it, he thought. The only thing that ever mattered to the woman who gave birth to him and then abandoned her family to return to the City and the lifestyle his Father could not provide her out here on the farm. Just hearing the Dearden name brought back all the hurt and resentment he had thought he had moved past with time. He turned back around to face Felicity. “You work for the Dearden Center?” he asked with a hint of venom.

A small frown marred Felicity’s face as she heard what sounded more like an accusation than a question from the handsome young man who had just been smiling at her. “I volunteer at the Center as a math tutor,” she corrected in reply. Then she looked at Robert and added, “My real job is developing gaming apps for mobile phones.”

Robert’s eyes grew inquisitive and he inquired, “You wouldn’t happen to have been the one who created ‘Zany Acres’ are you?”

“Yep, that was me,” she admitted, while blushing and smiling at him.

Robert’s eyes twinkled, and he smiled with delight. “I happen to be a Level 52 Urban Landscaper,” he bragged.

Oliver rolled his eyes at his father. His Dad spent almost as much time taking care of his virtual farm on his tablet at night as he spent taking of their real 240-acre Christmas tree farm during the day, he thought to himself. He looked over at Felicity who was beaming at his Father.

“Oh wow!” she exclaimed. “That’s fantastic!” Then she leaned into Robert and added, “If you give me a great deal on that tree,” she pointed toward the tree she had been admiring before she fell on top of Oliver, “I’d be happy to text you a special code to get you the Goose that lays golden eggs…”

Robert stuck his hand out to Felicity for her to shake and agreed, “Deal!” Felicity shook his hand enthusiastically and smiled. Robert smiled back at her and said, “I’ll have my son bring the tree to you at the center this afternoon.”

“What?!” Oliver questioned. His Dad knew how he felt about traveling into the city, let alone having to go somewhere that was a symbol of everything he ever resented.

Felicity noticed Oliver’s reluctance and offered, “Oh, he doesn’t have to go to any trouble, Robert.” Felicity leaned her head toward the tree and said, “All I need help with is strapping the tree to the roof of my car and I can take it from there.”

Robert shook his head in disagreement. “I wouldn’t hear of it.” He pointed toward the tree and added, “that tree will cave in the roof of your car, Felicity.” Then he looked at his son and his voice got sterner, “Oliver will be happy to take it to town for you and help you put it up in the Center.”

Knowing he wasn’t going to win this battle, Oliver shrugged his shoulders and agreed, “Fine. I’ll take it for her.”

Robert grinned and put an arm around Felicity and said, “Come my Dear, let’s go take care of business while Oliver gets the tree ready.”

Felicity smiled at Robert, then gave Oliver a surreptitious glance. Oliver gave her a weak smile and said, “I’ll come get you once I have the tree loaded in the truck.”

Felicity nodded her head in agreement and followed where Robert led her.

Finished securing the pine tree in the bed of his truck, Oliver walked over toward where his Dad and Felicity were sitting on the porch steps of his family’s farmhouse. He noticed the steam coming off the hot beverage Felicity was holding in small, delicate hands and knew that his Father was likely using his famous hot chocolate to get a few more tips for playing his favorite video game. He wondered why his father was insisting he help her with this tree. There had been plenty of other people who had come to the farm to buy Christmas trees, yet his Father had never insisted he actually deliver a tree for them. As he approached them, he could see how much his Dad and Felicity were enjoying each other’s company. Felicity looked luminous and so natural sitting there with his father, and it made him smile. Ever since his sister, Thea, had left for college, the two Queen men had started to become a bit stodgy. It was nice having a female there to lighten their environment, even if she was just a city girl.

Felicity, laughing at something Robert had just said, heard the crunch of the gravel and looked in that direction to see Oliver approaching her. She smiled at him and was surprised to see her smile returned.

Robert turned to face his son and admonished, “Son, did you know Felicity here based the game she created on her grandparents’ place in California?”

Felicity watched as a wave of shock crossed Oliver’s face. “My Papa grows stonefruit, pumpkins, watermelons and grapes on his little patch of land,” she informed him. “After my parents’ divorced when I was seven, I lived with them until my mom got back on her feet and we moved to Las Vegas.” Felicity looked back at Robert and added, “my time there holds some of my fondest memories as a child.” Robert then reached for her hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

Oliver’s shock turned into a questioning look. Maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to judge a book by its cover, thought Oliver. “I’ve got the tree all loaded if you’re ready to head back into town,” he let her know.

Felicity placed her cup down on the porch. “Thank you, Robert, for the wonderful cup of hot chocolate,” she told him.

Robert smiled at her and responded, “and thank you for all the tips you gave me for my game, Felicity.” As they stood up from the porch, he gave Felicity a big hug and added, “you ever feel the need for a properly home-cooked meal, you come on back here and Oliver will make you a pot roast that will curl your toes.”

Felicity blushed as she took a step back from Robert and heard Oliver exclaim, “Dad!”

“What?” Robert complained. “Your pot roast is amazing,” he stated as Oliver just shook his head and Felicity started fiddling with the gloves in her pocket, getting ready to place them on her hands.

“Yeah, okay, Dad,” Oliver answered as Robert chuckled, then looked at Felicity whose cheeks were still slightly pink and said, “come on Felicity, I’ll follow you into town.”

“Bye, Robert,” Felicity said, then she leaned back toward him and whispered, “I may take you up on that offer.”

Oliver couldn’t help but feel excited after overhearing what Felicity told his Father.

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

Sunday afternoon wonderfully had no traffic to have to deal with as they made their way into the heart of downtown Starling City. Felicity pulled up to the Dearden Children’s Center and parked in front, while Oliver parked directly behind her. She had called ahead and the Center’s director, Mr. John Diggle, had let her know that he would meet them to open the Center’s doors for them. Felicity introduced John to Oliver and the two men shook hands.

“Did you say your last name is Queen?” John asked Oliver.

Oliver was already walking back toward the truck to start untying the bungee cords holding down the tree in his truck bed. “Yep, I’m Oliver Queen,” he confirmed.

John just gave Oliver a knowing nod of his head, but said nothing else about it. “Let me help you with that,” John said instead, changing the subject.

Oliver and John both placed the tree on their respective shoulders and brought the tree inside the center.

Felicity placed the Christmas tree stand that Robert had given her down in the middle of the room the Center used as a library and study room. She watched as the two men brought the tree into the room and placed it into the stand she had filled with water. Once it was secured in the stand, the three of them stood back to admire the tree.

Oliver looked around the room. He saw pictures on the walls of his favorite childhood books. He gasped when he saw a poster for his absolute favorite childhood story, “A Winkle in Time” hanging on the wall. He had always enjoyed the story and how Calvin, the boy who helped Meg and her brother, Charles Wallace, find their father, was athletic and a good friend to them. It was a story he read often to his sister, Thea, while she was growing up. Unlike, Meg’s father in the story, he didn’t have to use a tesseract to try and find his mother, he knew exactly where his missing mother was. He walked toward the poster and noticed the book sat on a small shelf below the poster. He could hardly believe what he saw. It was a first edition of this book. He picked up the book and opened it. Inside was an inscription that read, “To Oliver, never settle for a life of Happy Mediums, Love, Mother.” Oliver slammed the book shut and put it down. Is that what his Father, him and his sister were to her, nothing more than a happy medium she didn’t want to settle for, he wondered? Is that the real reason why she left? He continued to look around the room and noticed that under each poster was a first edition copy of the corresponding book.

Felicity walked over to Oliver, placed a hand gently on his arm and asked, “Is everything okay?”

Oliver turned his gaze toward her, took in a deep breath and asked, “Do you know that each one of these books is a first edition?”

Felicity looked at him in shock and shook her head no.

John approached them both and said, “Does that mean that they are valuable?”

Oliver shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not sure, but you might want to have someone take a look at this collection and get it appraised.” He looked at John and added, “Felicity mentioned that the center was having some financial difficulties.”

John nodded his head in agreement and replied bluntly, “Our benefactor recently passed away and her family hasn’t been as philanthropic as she was.”

Felicity added, “I’ve been trying to help out by applying for a couple of grants and volunteering here as much as possible.”

John smiled at Felicity and added, “You’ve been a great, help Felicity, and the kids really love you.”

Felicity blushed again. “Thanks, John, but you’re the real hero here. I don’t know where this place would be without your leadership and guidance.”

Oliver could tell that their friendship was based on their mutual admiration of their accomplishments and efforts on behalf of the kids that the center served. If his Mother was dead, then the last Dearden heirs were him and his sister. Why hadn’t an attorney tried to contact him? Even if they had, he knew he would have turned their money away. The farm was doing well, and he didn’t need her money, but he knew who did. Oliver looked at Felicity and said, “I have to get back to the farm to help my Dad out.”

Felicity eyes looked disappointed, but she nodded her head in understanding. “Oh, yeah, right…I imagine this must be your busiest time of year,” she replied. Then gave him a quick hug and said, “Thank you again for all your help with the tree. The kids are going to love it.”

Oliver nodded his head in agreement, shook John Diggle’s hand and then quickly left the building.

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

Two weeks later…

“Oh my God!” exclaimed John Diggle from his office.

Felicity looked around the table at the faces of the children she had been working with that afternoon and said, “I’ll be right back, guys. Make sure you keep working on your multiplication facts.” Then she raced over to John’s office and paused at his doorway. “Is everything okay?”

John stood up from his desk and handed her the piece of paper he had just been reading.

Felicity’s eye grew wide with astonishment. It was a letter from a local attorney letting them know that a Dearden heir had been found and had directed their attorney to set up their inheritance in a trust that would benefit the Children’s Center for a very long, long time. She looked back up from the paper at John and asked, “Any idea who it could be?”

John smiled at her and said, “Remember when you brought Oliver Queen here with you?”

Felicity nodded her head and said with a bit of confusion, “yes, but I don’t understand what that had anything to do with it.”

“I keep forgetting you’re not from around here,” John replied. Then he moved to the front of his desk and sat on the corner’s edge. “Moira Dearden was Moira Queen at one point in her life and Oliver’s mother,” he informed her. “There was some sort of scandal and his Mother divorced his Father, returning to live here in Starling City. Two weeks ago, was the first time I had heard Oliver Queen’s name mentioned in years and you just happened to bring him here to the center his Mother founded.”

“I honestly had no idea…” Felicity replied in earnest. “Do you think that Oliver…?”

“I think that Oliver Queen got inspired by someone to make a difference in the lives of the children in Starling City,” John offered.

Felicity’s jaw dropped. “I think I need to go talk to someone, right now,” Felicity said.

As she was turning to leave John’s office he offered one piece of advice, “Be sure to tell him thank you for me.”

Felicity smiled and nodded her head in agreement as she raced out of the Center and headed to the one place she knew Oliver Queen would be.

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

“Why would you give away that money, Ollie?” Thea asked her older brother as she wrapped the stray pine tree branches into a wreath. “You could have used it to help Dad out here on the farm or maybe gone a really long vacation?”

“I did the only thing I could do with that money, Thea,�� Oliver replied as he worked on his own wreath, “I am making a difference in the lives of children who deserve the opportunity to have a safe place to go to and get the chance to learn new experiences their parents might not be able to afford to give them.”

The sound of footsteps approaching the siblings had them look up from their task at hand. “Look who I found wandering around the pine trees,” an ecstatic Robert Queen announced as Felicity strode next to him.

Thea looked at her brother expectantly as their Dad and the pretty blond approached. She extended her hand out and introduced herself, “Hi, I’m Thea Queen.”

Felicity smiled at her and replied, “Nice to meet you. I’m Felicity Smoak.” Then she turned her attention toward Oliver and gave him an even brighter smile. “Do you have a minute?”

Oliver nodded his head and motioned for her to follow him as he headed for another area of larger pine trees. He turned his head slightly to see his Father and sister exchange knowing smiles.

“I want to say thank you for what you did for the Children’s Center,” Felicity said as they walked through the rows of trees. “It made a real difference for the neighborhood kids and my friend, John.”

“You’re welcome,” Oliver answered.

“I didn’t know who you were when I came here,” she added, “I only came out here because the lady at Big Belly Burger recommended your family’s farm.”

Oliver smiled at her. He hadn’t been to Big Belly Burger in years. He looked at Felicity and said, “I didn’t want Moira’s money or anything to do with her after everything that happened. Going with you to the Children’s center to deliver that tree helped me to realize that maybe she had her reasons for doing what she did. When I saw that book’s inscription, I think I got a slightly better understanding of her. She warned me not to settle for what was comfortable. The only thing is, living on this farm, isn’t exactly comfortable. We work really, hard here to make sure this farm is a success and we thrive on it. She was the one who couldn’t find a way to thrive here in the country.”

Felicity stood closer to him and asked, “Is that why you gave the Center all that money? To prove that you don’t need her?”

Oliver shook his head no and replied, “I gave the center that money because I knew it was the right thing to do…and I had hoped it would make you smile.”

Felicity looked up at him with a genuine look of happiness on her face. “I think that is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me,” she admitted as she reached for his hand.

Oliver intertwined his hand with hers and asked, “If you’re interested, I have a pot roast in the oven for dinner tonight. Would you like to join us?”

Felicity looked up at him and saw his eyes twinkling back at her. Before she could reply, a light snowfall started to rain down on them and Felicity shivered.

Oliver reached up and gently tugged her closer to him. “We better get inside before this weather turns colder,” he suggested.

Felicity smiled back at him and feeling bold, wrapped her arms around him and replied, “Well, I hear that your pot roast is toe-curling, delicious.”

Oliver chuckled, leaned down until his nose was a hair’s breath away from hers and answered, “The only way to find out is to try it…”

Felicity tilted her chin up and said, “There’s no other choice to make.” Then she leaned forward and sealed her decision with a kiss.

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thatbluegibson · 7 years

Text

CH 23

“You literally live two houses away?” Liz asked, dropping her helmet on the seat of the sidecar.

“Yep,” Dave replied, watching the garage door close behind them. “And Taylor lives three houses down. We like to wave to each other from our decks.”

“Bunch of goddamn dorks,” Liz said just loud enough for him to hear.

Dave just smiled and held the door to the house for her. She tried to appear impassive, but every bit of her was on edge. Finding herself in a hallway, she watched Dave close the door behind them and walk right past her into the dark. A moment later, the room was flooded by several bright overhead lights causing Liz to shut her eyes tight.

“Shit, sorry,” she heard Dave mutter and the sound of light switches being flipped.

She opened one eye to see Dave standing in a starkly bare kitchen, his hand still adjusting a dimmer switch. Looking around, she was surprised at how normal the house was. The hallway she was in opened into a small front entry that led to the kitchen and dining room. Beyond the dining room and on the other side of the hallway wall was a living room with a couch, a stack of half empty boxes and a single acoustic guitar leaning against the wall. A staircase to the upstairs was directly across the entry way from the hallway Liz was in.

“It’s a little depressing,” Dave admitted, looking around. “I haven’t had time to find anything more permanent since I lived between a fucking airplane and bus all last year.”

Liz remained in the hallway, not sure what to say. She had just gone through all this herself, uprooting, relocating, readjusting… it all fucking sucked. She tried to imagine what she would want him to say if she had brought him over to her little farmhouse when it was empty and sad, then remembered it was just her that was empty and sad. Before she realized what she was doing, she ran up to Dave and wrapped her arms around his waist with such force that he staggered backwards into the counter behind him. She leaned her head into his chest and sighed.

Dave looked down at the top of Liz’s head, momentarily stunned by her embrace. He slowly draped his arms around her shoulders and rested his chin on her head. They stood like that for awhile before Liz took a breath.

“At least you have a dishwasher,” she muttered.

Dave lifted his head and looked over at the stainless steel appliance next to them.

“You don’t have a dishwasher?” he asked, bewildered.

Liz shook her head against her chest. “I’d have to knock out an entire bank of cabinets and I’d rather not do that in the dead of winter.”

“Do you live on a fucking commune?” he asked. Who didn’t have a dishwasher?

He felt her laugh a little. “I live on a farm, dummy!” she looked up at him, but didn’t release her hold on his waist.

Dave’s eyes went wide for a second. “I’m just now realizing that I know very little to nothing about you, Liz.”

“All right,” Liz said, pulling away from him and leaning against the island across from him. “What do you want to know?”

Everything, he thought. “Start with this Farmer Liz business.”

She shrugged. “I bought a little farm north of my hometown. The schools are good, the neighbors are far away and the tractor came free.”

“Do you like, grow shit?” Dave was not prepared for this conversation, at all.

“No, the neighbors ‘grow shit’,” she laughed, “They have cattle and chickens.”

“Do you have chickens?” Dave leaned forward, for some inexplicable reason he was excited about the prospect of Liz owning chickens.

“A few! Just for the eggs and the bug control. I haven’t had to butcher one yet,” she explained as if it were a normal thing in the San Fernando Valley.

Dave made a face at the mention of butchering, but went on. “So you grow, what? Crops?”

Liz nodded, enjoying every look on his face. “Mostly alfalfa, but I have fruit trees, a good size vegetable patch and a greenhouse.”

Dave narrowed his eyes at her, “What’s in the greenhouse, Liz?”

“Weed,” she said simply.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

“I’m a licensed state producer!” her voice sounded a little defensive.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Dave said, stepping closer to her.

Liz just shook her head, now worried about his reaction.

He took a deep breath, “First I find out that you’re related to my bass player, then I find out that you’ve had some mystery plastic surgery, which I’m working up to so don’t think you’ll be skirting around that, Elizabeth,” she smiled as he poked her shoulder with his finger, “and then you decide to just drop the fucking nuclear bomb that you’re a goddamn weed farmer?”

Liz smiled at the incredulous look on his face. “It’s good weed, too,” she said quietly.

Dave threw his hands in the air, “I bet it fucking is!” he cried.

“You wanna hear about the brewery or should we leave that one for another day?” she laughed.

“For fuck’s sake,” Dave shook his head. “We’ll get back to that one in a bit. I have a mental list I’m trying to get through here.”

“Okay,” she said, pulling herself onto the island she was leaning on. She felt instantly more at ease at his eye level. “Let’s go.”

“Plastic surgery,” he pointed at her, “Go.”

“Boobs. I was 25 and it was the best thing I’ve ever done for myself. Next.”

Dave hesitated a moment, his mouth hanging open, trying to register what she just said. “They don’t look fake,” he said, glancing down at her white shirt.

“Not all boob jobs are triple D’s, dude,” she replied, looking down her own shirt.

“I’d like to come back to that one, but let’s move on” he said slowly. “What the fuck does your dad do to know DeGrasse Tyson?”

“Budget manager for a science foundation. He allocates federal funds into the proper ch-,” she stopped short when Dave interrupted her.

“Okay, that’s too complicated for me right now. Any tattoos? Felonies?”

“Yes and no. Next.”

“No, not next,” he waved a finger in her face and moved the one step closer so he was touching her legs. “Tattoo showdown. Now. Let’s go.”

Liz felt herself panic a little, then shoved her wrist towards him. Dave grabbed her forearm and ran his thumb over the delicate black feather on her wrist he had noticed the night he met her. She gently pushed him back a step and slid off the counter. Pulling up her shirt, she turned a bit so he could see Paul’s handwritten ‘Blackbird, fly’ lyric on her side just below her black bra strap. She felt a chill up her spine when he placed his hand on her rib cage and dragged his thumb over the ink.

“What, are you checking to make sure they don’t wipe off?” she quipped, trying to steady her breathing.

He ignored her question and traced the tattoo again, “Are they all Beatles related?”

She shook her head and dropped her shirt, but Dave kept his hand on her ribs. He slid his free hand under her jaw and pulled her to him. Just as she was about to kiss him, she whispered against his lips.

“I have all the lyrics to Rainbow in the Dark on my lower back.” She watched as his eyes half opened to look at her. “I really love Dio,” she breathed, still pressed against him.

Before she knew what was happening, he had her spun around and bent her over the island. He gripped her right forearm and used his left hand to move her shirt, exposing her tattoo-free lower back. Liz’s breathing faltered when she felt a distantly familiar heat pool between her thighs at his simultaneous aggression and gentleness. She laid her head against the cool counter top and closed her eyes. “You’re pretty aggressive for someone that played with Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem,” she muttered.

“It wasn’t Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem, it was The Moopets. And you’re pretty fucking sassy for a Disney princess,” he replied, pulling her back upright.

Liz made a face at the princess reference, “Any other questions for me, Mr. Letterman?”

Dave put both his hands on the island on either side of Liz so his face was inches from hers.

“Tell me your name,” he tried, but Liz only smiled.

“Okay… What gang is Travis in?” he had overheard Nate earlier and didn’t like the sound of any of it.

“It’s not a gang, per say,” she shrugged. “My grandfather and his brother started a motorcycle club after the war and it turned into a… thing.”

“Hell’s Angels?” he felt a little nervous at the prospect of Liz being involved in something like that.

She laughed, “Fuck no. Just a bunch of guys that love bikes. They race and have chapters, but have no business other than charity stuff.”

“So your entire security team is a bunch of dudes with motorcycles.”

“Out of six, three of them are ex-military. Travis was a SEAL,” she said quietly.

Dave made a mental note to look all this up later. “Are you in this… what?… club?”

“Nope. No girls allowed,” she shrugged. “One of the original rules, ‘No dope, no dukes and no dames.”

“The fuck is a duke?”

“I was told it meant rich men that avoided the draft, but I think it evolved into meaning Ducati, since only allied-made bikes are allowed in.”

Dave stayed quiet, absorbing all the new information.

“Pops, my mom’s dad, taught me how to ride on a dirt track when I was six,” Liz said, her voice almost a whisper. “I crashed hard when I was nine, totally fucking up my side and Pops freaked out. He wrote my sister and me into the books and now every member, whether they know us or not, makes an oath to look after us. … which we hated,” she laughed a little, “Try going on a date when five massive Harley owners in leather vests are sitting in the next booth.”

Dave looked over her shoulder to his front door, “They aren’t here now, are they?” he feigned worry.

“No, Travis and I have a… comfortable agreement,” she laughed softly.

He searched her face for a moment. “Who was that kid next to you in Nate’s photo?” he asked quietly before immediately regretting it.

Liz’s eyes dilated before looking straight to the floor. She crossed her arms in front of herself and her breathing sped up.

“Whoa,” Dave stepped back, moving his hands to hold her upper arms. “We’ll skip that one, okay?”

Liz nodded quickly and shook her head. “Sorry,” she breathed, desperately fighting off a looming panic attack. She took a few deep breaths, her eyes still on the tile floor in front of her, then looked back up. Her green eyes were wide and a little afraid, Dave made a mental note to ask Nate who that kid was and what he did to cause a complete 180 in Liz.

“Better,” she forced a smile.

“We okay?” he asked, watching her eyes slowly return to normal.

She closed the space between them, put her arms around his shoulders and kissed him.

“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, we’re good.”

#dave grohl fanfiction #dave grohl fanfic #dave grohl #thatbluegibson

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dailynewswebsite · 4 years

Text

How QAnon conspiracy theory memes are spreading on Facebook in the UK

Far proper memes from the US are being shared and unfold within the UK. TY Lim/Shutterstock

A headteacher in Stoke-on-Trent informed me that, alongside making certain a COVID-safe return to highschool for her pupils this September, she’s having to reassure mother and father that their youngsters is not going to be forcibly taken away and remoted in a secret location if they begin coughing at school.

The headteacher retains getting despatched a Fb submit warning mother and father to “get up” to the menace within the UK’s Coronavirus Act. “Is that this true, can you’re taking my youngster?” she is requested.

The Fb submit these mother and father had seen started going viral mid-August. It’s certainly one of a number of comparable posts seen within the UK and Australia, and follows a sample in lots of posts linked to the QAnon conspiracy concept. These usually embody a direct enchantment to oldsters, difficult the reader to do their very own analysis to “show” the veracity of the declare, a name to defend particular person rights towards large authorities, elites, or some undefined “they”.

A part of a Fb submit from August 11 that was marked as false data by Fb. by way of Fb

Regardless of being rapidly fact-checked and tagged as false, this and associated posts which use the hashtag #SaveTheChildren are nonetheless circulating and the phrase “covid act 2020 youngsters in class” nonetheless comes up as an autofill possibility for those who seek for “covid act” on Google.

Learn extra: QAnon conspiracy theories in regards to the coronavirus pandemic are a public well being menace

The facility of memes

For the previous 5 years, my analysis has checked out how strangers discuss with one another about politics on Fb. I’ve centered on 4 English constituencies – Stoke-on-Trent Central, Burton and Uttoxeter, Bristol West and Brighton Pavilion – monitoring conversations by way of public pages, posts and public data on folks’s timelines and profiles.

By means of the 2015, 2017 and 2019 UK basic elections, I noticed the elevated polarisation of these Fb conversations and with it elevated incivility, partisanship and sectarianism. I used to be struck by the rising use of memes and the way a handful of core themes made their approach from meme to perception. Through the 2019 election, I observed how memes from far proper US Fb pages have been being posted and unfold by way of folks within the UK constituencies I used to be finding out.

I just lately determined to discover how the upcoming US election may be translating into partisan concepts on Fb within the UK. I made a decision to give attention to one meme, and the person Fb customers who cared sufficient about that concern to share or remark publicly – and see the place it took me.

So, in late August, I returned to Fb after a seven-month hole and picked the meme that occurred to be on the prime of my timeline – a submit from the group Migrant Watch shared by the web page of UKIP Brighton & Hove. This was constantly probably the most energetic meme-seeders among the many constituency get together Fb teams I comply with.

The place can one meme take you? Creator offered

I’d discovered hyperlinks over the last election between the energetic seeding of anti-migrant, anti-immigration memes by UK customers and US far-right organisations and people, and so I anticipated to seek out comparable hyperlinks by way of that meme. However the meme additionally led me to profiles that appeared to belong to UK moms and grandmothers participating with QAnon conspiracy theories from the US. This follows a sample seen by different researchers on this discipline, for instance Daniel Halpern and his colleagues who discovered girls and folks with politically right-leaning views extra prone to share conspiracy theories. Different analysis has discovered that excessive political beliefs – whether or not to the far-right or far-left of the spectrum – are a predictor of perception in conspiracy theories, and that motivated reasoning leads us to imagine what we need to imagine.

So in deciding on to give attention to a meme seeded by a bunch on the political proper (or far-right, relying by yourself perspective) it ought to maybe be anticipated to see some engagement with conspiracy theories. What was uncommon, based mostly on the findings of my 2017 and 2019 analysis, was what number of girls have been sharing theories that originated with QAnon.

QAnon conspiracies

Of the 45 folks to touch upon this Migration Watch meme shared by Brighton & Hove UKIP – 27 have been girls and most, from what I may inform from their profiles, have been apparently middle-aged grandmothers. Once I checked out what different content material these girls have been sharing, I discovered memes about anti-animal cruelty, anti-Black Lives Matter protests, anti-BBC proms and content material in favour of Brexit.

A few of the girls have been additionally anxious in regards to the menace to “our” youngsters posed by paedophile rings. And on this they demonstrated the subsequent degree of political meme sharing – freely interacting with content material from each the UK and the US.

For one lady that meant sharing conspiracy theories from Mama Wolf, one of many Fb accounts circulating QAnon content material. One in all these was entitled “Epstein Islands frequent flyers” a hotch-potch of unfounded accusations linking Hilary Clinton, Oprah Winfrey, Invoice Gates, Madonna, the Queen, and different (principally black or Jewish) “elites” to the late Jeffrey Epstein, a worldwide youngster trafficking community, medicine harvested from youngsters’s blood, and secret messages coded into Trump’s press briefings on his plans to avoid wasting the kids.

I discovered one of many similar Fb customers who had shared the Migration Watch meme additionally sharing a submit calling for folks to flood the BBC’s Fb web page on August 25 with the #saveourchildren tag. “They received’t cowl youngster trafficking so we’ll carry it to them. It’s time to take this up a degree,” mentioned the meme.

Hidden radicalisation

The bubble communities we inhabit on Fb defend us from various views to our personal, whereas additionally making it simpler for views to be bolstered, enhanced – groomed even – in direction of extra radical positions.

Fb encourages swimming pools of the like-minded, whether or not by way of structure that encourages what the activist Eli Pariser’s termed “filter bubbles”, or what the psychologist Daniel Kahneman known as “cognitive ease” – our willingness to imagine concepts which can be acquainted, snug – simple – to imagine, and to keep away from concepts that may take effort to simply accept. It’s additionally attainable to sport Fb’s algorithms to govern public opinion, because the investigative work of journalists equivalent to Carole Cadwalladr and Craig Silverman has proven.

However seeing a radical meme isn’t sufficient to set off extra of the identical content material, it’s how we work together with the content material that issues to Fb. The depth of curiosity wanted to remark after which share a political thought will set off extra of the identical and, doubtlessly, take the person by way of growing ranges of radicalisation.

An individual with casually racist views can rapidly turn out to be groomed in direction of adopting extra radical views.

It may be tempting to dismiss the anti-mask protesters or teams marching to Buckingham Palace to #SaveOurChildren as just a few thousand cranks in a sea of wise folks. However we have no idea the dimensions of the iceberg – beneath every seen protester could also be 1000’s of partial believers, together with an unknown variety of folks serving to QAnon to develop.

Editor’s word: this text has been up to date after publication to supply additional context about analysis on this space.

To seek out out extra in regards to the historical past of conspiracy theories, how they unfold and the way harmful they’re, hearken to our Knowledgeable information to conspiracy theories, a collection by The Dialog’s The Anthill podcast. Pay attention right here, on Apple Podcasts or Spotify, or seek for The Anthill wherever you get your podcasts.

Sue Greenwood doesn’t work for, seek the advice of, personal shares in or obtain funding from any firm or organisation that may profit from this text, and has disclosed no related affiliations past their tutorial appointment.

from Growth News https://growthnews.in/how-qanon-conspiracy-theory-memes-are-spreading-on-facebook-in-the-uk/ via https://growthnews.in

#Growth News

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magzoso-tech · 5 years

Photo

New Post has been published on https://magzoso.com/tech/secrets-founder-returns-with-anti-loneliness-app-ikaria/

Secret’s founder returns with anti-loneliness app Ikaria

“I don’t feel good about that. That sucks” Chrys Bader-Wechseler reflects when asked about the bullying that went down on the anonymous app Secret he co-founded in 2013. After $35 million raised, 15 million users, and a spectacular flame out two years later, the startup was dead. “Since I left secret I feel alive and aligned with my values and my purpose again.”

But there was one bright side to Secret letting you post without a name or consequences. People opened up, got vulnerable, and felt less alone when comments revealed they weren’t the only person dealing with a certain struggle. What Bader learned from watching Secret’s users “do this in the dark” was the realization that “actually, we need to learn to do this in the light, to have that same kind of dialogue, but do it openly with each other.”

So began the journey to Bader’s new startup Ikaria that’s exclusively revealing itself to the world today on TechCrunch. It’s a different kind of chat app, named after the Greek island where close-knit community helps extend people’s lifespans. The 6-person Santa Monica team is funded by a $1.5 million seed round led by Initialized Capital and Fuel Capital. People can sign up for early beta access here.

During a long interview about the startup, Bader and his co-founder Sean Dadashi were cagey about exactly how Ikaria works since it’s still in development. Amidst all the philosophical context about the app’s intention, I was able to pull out a few details about what the product will actually look like.

“Basically, since 2004, technology has created this monumental shift in the human social experience. We’re more connected than ever technically but all the studies show we’re lonelier than ever.” Bader explains. “It’s like eating McDonald’s to get healthy. It’s not the right source of nutrition for our social well-being because true connection requires a level of vulnerability, presence, self-disclosure, and reciprocity that you don’t really get on these platforms.”

Ikaria isn’t another feed. It’s a safe space where you can chat with close friends & family, or people going through similar life challenges. Members of these group chats will optionally go through guided experiences that help them reflect on and discuss what’s going on in their hearts and minds. This could become a whole new media format where outside creators or mental health professionals could produce and contribute their own guided experiences.

“Part of the reason we’re announcing this is that . . . it’s a call to action to involve all these practitioners and people who are doing these types of things and giving them a platform to allow them to facilitate these kind of group bonding experiences through a platform where they can extend their practices into the digital world” Bader tells me. What Calm and Headspace did for making meditation more mainstream and accessible, Ikaria wants to do for mental health through online togetherness.

Ikaria already has a sizable closed beta going which the startup plans to continue until it finds product fit, and it hopes to know its official release timeline by the end of the year. “We’re not going to launch this until we know 40% of people would be disappointed if they couldn’t use it.”

Rather than monetizing by exploiting people’s attention, Ikaria plans to develop a ‘customer relationship’ with users, which could mean subscription access or in-app payments for buying content. Perhaps one user could act as the sponsor and purchase an experience for their whole group chat. Until then, it’s got its seed funding from Initialized, Fuel Capital, F7 Ventures, Ryan Hoover’s Weekend Fund, Backend Capital, Day One Ventures, Shrug, Todd Goldberg, and Superhuman’s Rahul Vohra.

“The hope is that eventually this would be an app you use instead of iMessage, to increase your sense of presence” Bader explains, revealing its grand ambitions. Why would we need to replace our core chat apps? Well for one thing, they don’t understand who really matters to you. If an app understood who your mom is, it could give her messages special prevalence or remind you to contact her.

Bader met Dadashi through an offline men’s group for discussing life, love, and everything. After just a few weeks of these meetups, they say they felt closer to each other than to most of their friends. Only later did Bader, a designer by trade, discover that Dadashi was a coder who’d been CTO of electronics company MHD Enterprises before starting a travel and lifestyle startup for mental wellness called Somatic Studios.

Together, they researched the rapid rise of other vulnerability-focused meetup organizations like Evryman, ManKind Project, Quilt, Authentic Relating, Circling, and T-Groups. But they knew that to have a chance at impact at scale, they’d need to build a mobile app familiar enough to get people over the hurdle of starting a mindfulness practice. They laid out a few principles to build by: a focus on relationships instead of Likes and followers, conscious design that won’t exploit people’s attention or weaknesses, no ads, and keeping all data private and in control of the user.

Having known Bader since the Secret days, it’s obvious that working with Dadashi has made him happier and more centered. Ikaria is an app he can wake up feeling good about each day. “You know, I don’t like to speak ill of David [Byttow, Secret’s CEO who was notoriously prickly], but that relationship was very, very toxic and taxing for me. And this time around with Sean, as I’m sure you can tell, is the polar opposite.”

If Ikaria can help people develop the open and honest relationships with friends or peers like building it has done for Bader and Dadashi, it could be a beacon amidst a sea of time unwell spent.

#Apps #Chrys Bader-Wechseler #Funding #Fundings & Exits #Health #mental well-being #Mobile #Recent Funding #secret #Social #Startups #TC #Time Well Spent

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marsjapanxenacollen · 5 years

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Short animations

Examples;

Bao

In “Bao,” an aging Chinese mom suffering from empty nest syndrome gets another chance at motherhood when one of her dumplings springs to life as a lively, giggly dumpling boy. Mom excitedly welcomes this new bundle of joy into her life, but Dumpling starts growing up fast, and Mom must come to the bittersweet revelation that nothing stays cute and small forever. This short film from Pixar Animation Studios and director Domee Shi explores the ups and downs of the parent-child relationship through the colorful, rich, and tasty lens of the Chinese immigrant community in Canada.

Purl

Purl, an animated short film from Pixar, directed by Kristen Lester and produced by Gillian Libbert-Duncan, features an earnest ball of yarn named Purl who gets a job in a fast-paced, high energy, bro-tastic start-up. Yarny hijinks ensue as she tries to fit in. Purl, a humanoid pink-colored ball of yarn, begins an entry-level position at a company named B.R.O. Capital. While excited at first to work there, she soon realizes that her partners ignore her, in spite of her attempts to fit in. After being left alone while her coworkers go out for a group lunch, Purl observes from photos of the company's capital team that it is composed entirely of men in similar power suits and hairstyles. This inspires her to change her appearance and personality to resemble theirs. After the other employees return, Purl, now talking and acting like everyone else, is noticed by her coworkers, who invite her out for drinks. Before the group leaves, however, a yellow-colored ball of yarn named Lacy arrives at the office to begin working. When she notices the new ball of yarn is also ignored, Purl befriends Lacy and invites her to join them for drinks. After some time has passed, Purl has returned to her original appearance, and B.R.O. Capital is shown to be staffed by a more equal combination of humans and balls of yarn, who work together as a team.

Kitbull

Kitbull is a 2019 American traditionally animated short film directed and written by Rosana Sullivan, produced by Pixar Animation Studios, and distributed by Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures. It is the third film in Pixar's "SparkShorts" program, and focuses on a fiercely independent stray kitten and an abused pit bull, who form an unlikely friendship.

Fox Fires

This short comes from Scottish animator Keilidh. Blending 2D and 3D animation together with an elegant animation style and gorgeous score, this was her graduation film from Scotland’s Duncan of Jordanstone College of Art & Design. We’re going to guess she passed.

As for the story itself, it takes its inspiration from the ancient Finnish myth about the Aurora Borealis, which they call Revontulet. That translates to “Fox Fires,” as they believed a magical fox would run across the sky, sweeping the Earth’s snow with his tail, creating the light show that still causes awe and wonder to this day.

In a Heartbeat

In a Heartbeat is a 2017 computer-animated short film produced by Ringling College of Art and Design. Written and directed by Esteban Bravo and Beth David, the project was funded through Kickstarter, raising $14,191 from 416 backers on a goal of $3,000. The short film concerns a closeted boy who has a crush on another boy and his heart desires to be with him. The short received wide praise on various platforms and was shortlisted for an Academy Award for Best Animated Short Film.

Piper

"Piper" tells the story of a hungry sandpiper hatchling who ventures from her nest for the first time to dig for food by the shoreline. The only problem is, the food is buried beneath the sand where scary waves roll up onto the shore. After watching Sandpipers react to waves and run on the beach, Director Alan Barillaro was inspired to design "Piper’s" main character - the young sandpiper who is afraid of the water yet has to venture into it to eat.

The production began as an attempt to craft an animation tool that would help provide additional creative flexibility to the studio’s filmmaking process. Pixar’s software development team created a proof of concept, a short animation test using the sandpiper on a beach. This animation test soon grew into a full-fledged short film.

Lava

Inspired by the isolated beauty of tropical islands and the explosive allure of ocean volcanoes, LAVA is a musical love story that takes place over millions of years.

When the two traditional Hawaiian singers Kuana Torres Kahele and Napua Greig first met in the recording studio, they discovered that they grew up and attended Hula school together, and were what was called, "Hula brother and sister."

Filmmaker James Ford Murphy originally pitched the idea of LAVA to Pixar and Walt Disney Animation Studio head John Lasseter by playing his original song on a ukulele. "That was one of my goals, to see if I could tell a story that’s told completely in a song"

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jessicakehoe · 4 years

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My Story: Kawennáhere Devery Jacobs on Queer Indigenous Representation in the Entertainment Industry

Born and raised in the Kanien’kehá:ka Mohawk Territory in Quebec, actress Kawennáhere Devery Jacobs has made a name for herself playing roles as wide-ranging as a teenager dealing with the repercussions of the residential school system in Rhymes For Young Ghouls and “a badass werewolf” on the Netflix show The Order. Currently based in Toronto, the 26-year-old actress has also written and directed some of her own projects, which reflect her experience and perspective as a queer Indigenous woman.

Now, during National Indigenous History Month, she has partnered up with Made Nous (a Canadian entertainment industry-wide initiative) to spotlight Indigenous artists—actors, writers, filmmakers and others. Here, she shares, in her own words, how she got her start, the kinds of projects she’s drawn to, and why it’s important for there to be more Indigenous representation in front of and behind the camera.

On growing up: I always wanted to act, since before I even knew that it was a career. I would always make home videos, and force my sister to direct them and act in them with me. I also [participated] in the Turtle Island Theatre Company, which is a small community theatre on my reserve. It was through that that my mom saw how much I loved performing. She submitted me, without my knowledge, to an agency in Quebec. They accepted and then she sat me down and asked if it was something that I wanted to do and if it was, that she would support me. It was something I had always wanted, but then there was a writers’ strike, and I was a teenager and a Native kid who was Anglophone living in Quebec, so there weren’t really many opportunities and I didn’t think that it would ever be possible for me to have a career in the film industry. And so I actually went to school to be a counsellor and I was working at the Native Women’s Shelter of Montreal when I was cast in my first leading role, Aila in Rhymes for Young Ghouls, which ended up being my breakout role. It was the first time I had worked with an Indigenous writer/director, and had a story that resonated so closely with my experience and my family’s experience.

On beginning her career: I’m still trying to figure that out and carve that path. It’s not a typical job within my community. A lot of my friends in Toronto who are either refugees or immigrants, their parents put a lot of pressure on them to be doctors or lawyers, but that’s not really a pressure in my community. For us, basically through colonization and all of history, we’ve already lived through our own apocalypse and it’s more about rebuilding our nation and reclaiming our culture. So for my family I think the bigger deal wasn’t that I decided to be an actor, it was me deciding to move away from the reserve. Because for us, the measure of wealth is actually determined by how big your family is.

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Today is National Indigenous Peoples Day and I celebrate being Kanien’kehá:ka today, and every day. ⁣ ⁣ Kawennáhere iontiáts, wakhskaré:wake, tánon Kahnawà:ke nitewaké:non.⁣ ⁣ My name is Kawennáhere, I’m bear clan, and I’m from Kahnawà:ke Mohawk Territory.⁣ ⁣ Take a minute today to recognize whose land you’re on. I’m in Ateròn:to’ (Toronto) and this is Rotinishón:ni, Anishnabeg, Chippewa, and Wendat territory.⁣ ⁣ Tag your city and whose traditional Indigenous territory you reside on, in the comments below. You can find out with the link in my bio!⁣ 👇🏽👇🏽👇🏽⁣ ⁣ #IndigenousPeoplesDay⁣ #NationalIndigenousPeoplesDay⁣ @made_nous

A post shared by Kawennáhere Devery Jacobs (@kdeveryjacobs) on Jun 21, 2020 at 7:44am PDT

On the challenges she’s faced in the industry: As a queer Mohawk woman I’ve been forced to create a defence mechanism and a protective barrier. I go to set open enough to be willing to work but I still have to go with enough protective layers in case somebody is making microaggressions toward me—because I’m so often the only queer person or the only Indigenous person, and sometimes both, on set. I have to go in knowing that, because there isn’t anybody who looks like me or has a similar cultural background, that I have to represent so much more than just myself.

On the work that she’s drawn to: If I’m going to be specifically talking about my Indigeneity and talking about cultural issues, it’s important that there are Indigenous creatives behind the lens as well. But if you look at projects like The Order, where there’s no mention of cultural background, it’s just a fun escapist show where I get to go and be a badass werewolf. I like to have a good balance between both. But if we’re talking about representation then for me it’s really important to work with Indigenous collaborators and creatives—people who have tangible positions of power, not just in front of the camera so they can check off diversity boxes.

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Violence rates against Indigenous women and girls are 10x higher on some reservations than the US national average. Today is a National Day of Awareness for Missing & Murdered Native Women & Girls.⁣ ⁣ Five years ago, I wrote and directed my first short film STOLEN, which follows a teen in her group home moments before landing on the list of MMIW. The film features a nuanced performance by the talented @teioshontathemcgregor and music by @wolf.saga. ⁣ I wrote it at the time when this widespread international issue wasn’t being discussed. Since then, there’s been an outcry from the public, demanding justice for our stolen women and girls… But there is still much more work to be done.⁣ ⁣ We can’t ignore this ‪#SilentCrisis‬ we are ‪#NotInvisible‬. ⁣ #MMIW⁣ #MMIWG⁣ #MMIWG2S

A post shared by Kawennáhere Devery Jacobs (@kdeveryjacobs) on May 5, 2020 at 2:31pm PDT

On celebrating National Indigenous History Month with Made Nous: I was so sick of seeing this one idea of what Canadian film and TV looks like. There’s always a moose and a beaver, and it’s really lame. When I saw Made Nous’s initial campaigns and how they were taking credit for all of the talent that’s coming out of this territory, I thought that was exactly where we should be going because we have so many productions that shoot here and so much homegrown talent that we should celebrate. And so when they approached me, I was automatically interested in partnering with them. But also, they’re keen on hearing my perspective and voice in an unfiltered way. That is something that I really appreciate, and am excited to be a part of and to celebrate Indigenous film and television, because Canadian film is made of up all the different cultures. Toronto is 51% made up of BIPOC, so for me Canada’s a lot more colourful than it’s previously been represented as in past media.

On the Indigenous artists she’s spotlighting this month: It’s a small Indigenous industry. Everyone kind of knows everyone and so for me it’s celebrating the talent that I’m on the ground with, who are my peers and whom I see working day in and day out to have our voices heard and get our stories out there. People like Jeff Barnaby, who I worked with on Rhymes for Young Ghouls and Blood Quantum; there’s Elle-Maija Tailfeathers, who just released The Body Remembers When the World Broke Open; Michelle Latimer, who’s working on the Trickster series; there’s Danis Goulet who’s working on the feature film Night Raiders; there’s Nyla Innuksuk who’s doing a film called Slash/Back, which is an Inuit alien movie. And emerging [artists] like Asia Youngman, and Alexandra Lazarowich whose short documentary Fast Horse won the Special Grand Jury Prize at Sundance in 2019. There’s people like Trevor Mack and Madison Thomas… such a range of talent that’s up and coming, some I’m working with and some I’m cheering from the sidelines.

On embracing her queer Indigenous identity: For me, I only clued in to the fact that I was queer… I mean, I’m 26 so I can’t even say later in life but like, I wasn’t a 12-year-old knowing that I was queer. I was kind of operating in the world with blinders on and when I came into my queerness, there was a sense of an inferiority complex because I hadn’t had the lived experience that [others] have had so I felt like I wasn’t entitled to a place in the queer community. It was and still is a journey to stand in my place and understand that I am a part of the queer community. There’s so little Indigenous queer representation, let alone two-spirit, let alone trans, so for me I felt that it was important to be as gentle with myself as I am with other people.

On the challenges of getting Indigenous projects green-lit: I feel like right now there’s a wave of diversity and inclusion and it’s almost being treated as a fad, which I deeply resent. And though there is this push for diversity and stories from people of different backgrounds, they’re typically projects that are funded at lower rates. And when filmmakers go to funding bodies for TV and are told ‘oh this would be better suited for APTN (Aboriginal Peoples Television Network)’, that tells us that our stories aren’t worthy of being universal. So there’s still a long way to go.

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This is not a “Black issue.” This is a global issue that we are responsible for changing. Each of our communities need to stand with our Black relatives and mobilize. ⁣ ⁣ Demand police accountability from your legislators, make donations, join a protest, if you feel you can do so safely. Offer resources to protestors and affected communities in your area. Help with a clean-up effort. Be of service to the Black community.⁣ Today, I:⁣ 1. Donated to @blacklivesmattertoronto⁣ 2. Signed the @blklivesmatter petition to #defundthepolice⁣ 3. Donated to the @blackvisionscollective⁣ 4. Donated to the GoFundMe created by #regiskorchinskipaquet’s sister⁣ 5. Signed the @changedotorg petition calling for #justiceforregiskorchinskipaquet⁣ ⁣ It might not be the biggest amount, but I did what I could, and managed to donate $300 today. I invite you to match it if you can. ⁣ ⁣ To anyone who can provide proof that you matched my donation of $300 to any initiative supporting BLM protesters in the next 24hrs, tag me in your story & I will send you a personalized video. ⁣ ⁣ Please see my IG story for links of where you can donate.⁣ ⁣ BLACK LIVES MATTER. ⁣ ⁣ #solidarity⁣ #blacklivesmatter⁣ #indigenoussolidarity⁣ #indigenouspeoplesforblacklives⁣ artwork by: @tiplerteaches

A post shared by Kawennáhere Devery Jacobs (@kdeveryjacobs) on May 31, 2020 at 7:13pm PDT

On the Black Lives Matter movement: I grew up in the legacy of the 1990 Oka Crisis so I grew up inherently political and for my entire life I’ve been fighting for Indigenous rights. So seeing my community stand up for the first time ever in solidarity with the Black community and also Afro-Indigenous people was huge. It’s also addressing a lot of the anti-Blackness in my community and a lot of other Indigenous communities, which is really important. I think that this time has made me reflective but also proven to me that we can’t fight these fights alone. The Black community has never had the support of anyone else on this scale ever, globally. And in the midst of this to see that the Black community is also supporting Indigenous people in Canada who are suffering very similar things is just reaffirming that we need to stand together. But at this time I don’t want to take away from the Black community’s plight. I don’t want to be saying ‘what about Indigenous people?’ I think that conversation is a part of it and can be had but at this time we should keep focus on what’s in front of us.

Missed last week’s My Story column? Click here.

The post My Story: Kawennáhere Devery Jacobs on Queer Indigenous Representation in the Entertainment Industry appeared first on FASHION Magazine.

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sheminecrafts · 5 years

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Secret’s founder returns with anti-loneliness app Ikaria

Bader met Dadashi through an offline men’s group for discussing life, love, and everything in the wake of Secret’s collapse and a rough romantic breakup. After just a few weeks of these meetups, they say they felt closer to each other than to most of their friends. Only later did Bader, a designer by trade, discover that Dadashi was a coder who’d been CTO of electronics company MHD Enterprises before starting a travel and lifestyle startup for mental wellness called Somatic Studios. They tried working together on an app for sharing quotes from your friends but scrapped it.

Together, the pair went on to research the rapid rise of other vulnerability-focused meetup organizations like the one where they met, including Evryman, ManKind Project, Quilt, Authentic Relating, Circling, and T-Groups. Though they knew that to have a chance at impact at scale, they’d need to build a mobile app familiar enough to get people over the hurdle of starting a mindfulness practice. They laid out a few principles to build by: a focus on relationships instead of Likes and followers, conscious design that won’t exploit people’s attention or weaknesses, no ads, and keeping all data private and in control of the user.

There are other startups hoping to address the sad state of mental health from different angles. Talkspace offers a mobile connection to licensed therapists, though it can be pricey at $65 to $99 per week. 7 Cups and TalkLife makes peer-to-peer counseling from volunteers free, though these aren’t professionals. There are also plenty of journaling products, gratitude practice app, and wellness podcasts out there. But Ikaria’s approach combining mental health content with group chats of people you trust feels unique.

Having known Bader since the Secret days, it’s obvious that working with Dadashi has made him happier and more centered. Ikaria is an app he can wake up feeling good about each day. “You know, I don’t like to speak ill of David [Byttow, Secret’s CEO who sources say was abusive to employees], but that relationship was very, very toxic and taxing for me. And this time around with Sean, as I’m sure you can tell, is the polar opposite.”

If Ikaria can help people develop the open and honest relationships with friends or peers like building it has done for Bader and Dadashi, it could be a beacon amidst a sea of time unwell spent.

from iraidajzsmmwtv https://ift.tt/2V315Lu via IFTTT

#IFTTT #iraidajzsmmwtv

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technicalsolutions88 · 5 years

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Having known Bader since the Secret days, it’s obvious that working with Dadashi has made him happier and more centered. Ikaria is an app he can wake up feeling good about each day. “You know, I don’t like to speak ill of David [Byttow, Secret’s CEO who sources say was abusive to employees], but that relationship was very, very toxic and taxing for me. And this time around with Sean, as I’m sure you can tell, is the polar opposite.”

If Ikaria can help people develop the open and honest relationships with friends or peers like building it has done for Bader and Dadashi, it could be a beacon amidst a sea of time unwell spent.

from Social – TechCrunch https://ift.tt/2V315Lu Original Content From: https://techcrunch.com

#Technical Solutions #SEO #Online Earning #Youtube Marketing #Android Developer

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vinylexams · 5 years

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Dramathan - Into the Pink

I’m VERY excited to make this post because if you’ve been following VE for a while, you’ll recognize it as one of the only albums I’ve used this platform to help fund-raise to see it get pressed! Dramathan, or Jonathan as I know him, has been making noisy, DIY bedroom rock for a while now and Into the Pink is a big ol’ hunk of album with an even bigger story behind it. I won’t tell the story on his behalf, since there’s a pretty meaty interview waiting for you on our main website, but this album has a lot of backstory. Musically speaking, it’s really catchy pop-minded indie rock. It’s a little crunchy, it’s a little shoegazey, and it reminds me of the best-of-the-best college rock bands back in the mid and late 90s. Now, what’s even more exciting about this post is that it serves as your official heads up that I’ve also had a chance to interview Jonathan himself about this album and I’m including it in its entirety below the link to listen for yourself!

https://dramathantheband.bandcamp.com/album/into-the-pink

INTERVIEW:

Hi Jonathan! I’d love for you to tell us a bit about the album’s story and what you want us to know about the great music you’ve written here.

First of all, thank you! Not only for today, but for being one of the early supporters of this album. I’m aiming for brevity on this one because I know I have a lot to say! Into the Pink is my sophomore follow up to California Magick, both released on Kerchow Records. It is an album I wrote and recorded in its entirety all by myself. It documents these past couple of years full of love, death, redemption, depression,fame, triumph, fame, and a life changing cancer diagnosis. Jayne Mansfield’s Pink Palace was the inspiration for the title and thought of moving into the house of love. The remastered tracks are on Kerchow’s website and were the tracks used to press my new vinyl on pink wax! The vinyl can be purchased only through the Dramathan bandcamp.

Dramathan is a play on your name Jonathan, so tell us a little about that!

Like a lot of teens everything I experienced was just the end of the fucking world, a real costume drama. But in my defense my childhood was full of drama/trauma not completely of my own making. Yeah, I did wild things and was a chronic runaway. But what was I running away from? That’s the real question! But I digress. The short version is one day my mom called me that, it was funny and it just stuck. She was the only one who called me that for a long time. It’s in the Urban Dictionary and they describe it as “an over dramatic gay dude” (which I may or may not had a hand in coining) but I think of it more now as queer who puts an end to the drama and cuts through the bullshit. It’s a bit strange having a band name or persona that’s actually ridiculously personal. That’s kind of a running theme in my life. I mean, if you see my IMDB I play myself on The Fine Bros. React channel on Youtube. I’m lucky to have it though. It’s a name that really allows me to play to my moodiness musically and doesn’t pigeon hole me to a specific sound. Plus, It’s really the only good word play you can do with my name besides “Jon Not Thin” which is my IG handle, so there.

I shared a link to your GoFundMe page earlier this year to raise money for this pressing and also to help support your mother who is undergoing treatment for cancer. How has that campaign worked out?

In terms of funding, great. In term of community, it worked out better than anything I could have hoped for. I always thought I knew who my community was, but who it actually consisted of…well.. .that was a bit of a rude awakening. People that I supported by showing up to their shows, donating money to, or by lending my name to their events were nowhere to be found. That was until the buzz around Into the Pink started! It was fans of music not fame that lifted me up from its inception. There are so many people that claim to be supporters of poc-lgbtqia+-artists, so evolved in their inclusivity, but really are hypocritical or just surfing the trend for likes and followers. And these are things that shouldn’t be made trendy, because the problem with making them trendy is that trends go out of fashion and we are here to stay! These are real fucking people! The truth is people like me have to work twice as hard to get half as far in this industry. My therapist would say “thoughts are things” and ask “Is this a narrative you’ve created?” To that I say, ‘Yeah , thoughts are things and people can create a narrative, but reality is a thing too!’ And the reality is Into the Pink is album that was created on the island of misfit toys. It doesn’t really fit into one genre and there are people that get it and love it! Yes, I am aware that the story behind it resonates with a lot of people, but it wouldn’t be doing this well if it wasn’t a good album. Here is where I show my hubris. The people who funded it know the back story, but the majority of people buying the vinyl don’t. They want the music!!! I recorded this album all by myself, zero budget and on a phone! A damn phone, Nate! I had this one review where a sound engineer critiqued Into the Pink. Not a rock journalist mind you, but a sound engineer. They said things like “…not more than fuzzy guitars, drums and vocals…” well that’s what I had to work with! There was no producer and no studio! I love the Pixies but I’m not trying to be the Pixies! (another thing he threw out there, there are even references to the Sex Pistols which shows his musical pool to pull from). Black Francis isn’t recording in his bedroom in between taking his mother to chemo. I did win him over though and at the end he recommended it. A fucking sound engineer! He said I did “a remarkable job with the tools he was working with” and that all my songs were “catchy” a term I used to hate but now embrace as one of my strengths. All this is extremely important for any artist to know (esp. marginalized ones) and I’m not afraid to speak on these things and really show my seams, because I want people esp. queer or people of color to know it’s hard, but also know that they can do it!!! So many people finally get through the door and get a seat at the table in this industry. But then they shut the door behind them, barricade it! Because they feel like there isn’t room for anyone else. FUCK THAT! I’m all about breaking down that damn door and holding it open for others like me. I mean… the cream rises. You’re only afraid if you don’t have the goods. So, now I keep my circle tight, but right. Many of the campaign supporters were friends of React or Reactors themselves (Trudi, Ary, Faith and Jason). The trans community really stepped up and friends that know my mother. They know my mom has spent her entire life helping people, fighting for gay/equal rights by being part of ACT UP, a Brown Beret who helped raised money for communities where people couldn’t pay for their families’ own funerals, and a social worker who always went above and beyond as an advocate for the people she was assigned to. It was time to give back to the woman who had given so much all of her life.

If it’s not too forward, how is your mom doing? I know we’re all sending her lots of good vibes and thinking of her as she goes through treatment!

It’s rough. I didn’t know that the heart could break so many times in a day. How many times until it’s just broken, ya know??? Some days I hear my mom’s very distinct laugh and I am so grateful for that day and then the next moment I find myself frightened I might forget it someday soon. I want people to know how hard it can be so they cherish every moment with their loved ones without being a total buzzkill. I live my life pretty publicly/authentically, but I can only tell my side of it. I will say she’s a fighting and kicking ass, but for once I wish things could just be easy for her.

Tell us a little about you, the musician.

Well… I’m an autodidact. Before I got into punk I listened to a lot of female R&B groups, oldies and those old school Jamz like “Lookout Weekend” by Debbie Deb. My mom played a lot of Pat Benatar, The Cars, and Janet Jackson around the house so I learned a lot about hooks from those artists, at least early on. But I picked up on how to write harmonies from bands like Veruca Salt not the Beach Boys!

What is your approach to songwriting? Who do you credit as some of your biggest influences?

I’m a fucking workhorse when it comes to music! For every song on this album there are at least two others that didn’t make the cut! I will put out shit song after shit song until one feels right. (I shouldn’t say they were shit, but just weren’t up to my standards). I don’t wait for a muse to show up and guide my hands “Ghost” style. Sure, I get inspired, but I need to write and love doing so. This time though I stepped it up, I knew that I needed to write something people would buy! That’s the harsh reality of it. I still create without an audience in mind with the exception of a younger me. Growing up I always wanted to hear songs about boys loving boys, magick, poc, etc. So, I create what I want to see more of in the world and share personal experiences in hope to lessen others’ alienation. I also didn’t listen to any music while writing this album! I did have a vision board that had pictures of Deborah Harry, Debi Martini (whom I dedicated the album to), Jayne Mansfield and Patti Smith. Also, a list of bands I love including: Hole, Huggy Bear, Red Aunts, Helium, Julie Ruin, Free Kitten, Kaito, Veruca Salt, Slant 6, Frumpies, and L7. It was less a vision board and more of a reminder. Like REMEMBER WHAT YOU LOVE LISTENING TO and WHY! Hole will forever be my number one influence, I think Courtney Love is an underrated lyricist even if a vast amount of people think she is an overrated anything else. It’s funny because I grew up listening to noise bands, red aunts, but what comes out of me is this weird alt. pop! I mean, I don’t know many noise bands with bridges and a hook. Go figure!

If you got to collaborate with one famous musician or band (alive OR dead), who would it be and why?

Patti Smith, but what would I bring to the table??? She’s a Poet laureate! I would just prostrate myself at her feet.

What made you want to press this album on vinyl and how did you get connected with your label, Kerchow Records?

That was always the goal from day one. As a collector, why not my own wax? I read somewhere that on a digital format your ear/brain can get tired of the fixed sound. On vinyl it’s forever changing in the most miniscule of ways so it’s harder to tire of. We did do the cassette tape first because we weren’t fully funded and time was of the essence. The tracks weren’t mixed to my liking (my doing) but, I didn’t know how long we had with my mother. So, we released it just so my mother could see a tangible product. Not to mention Kerchow is famous for putting out tapes so I am honored to be their first vinyl release. I know they did one before, but it was combined label release with two other labels. Into the Pink is their first solely Kerchow vinyl. I first met Nick Dolezal in Fresno through my then boyfriend, Taylor Rosario-Price. Fresno is one of my hometowns. They have some of the best and worst people you will ever meet. Nick of Kerchow is one of the good ones. That is also how I met the brilliant Damaris Paz who made my vision for the cover come to fruition. All are amazing musicians/artists in their own right. I didn’t think they would be interested in my first album California Magick, because like I said before, my style didn’t really mesh with what I heard from their label or any for that matter, but I believe he was intrigued by how I was recording the songs before he heard the songs themselves. I didn’t even think to shop demos around for Into the Pink. They believed in me before the Youtube success and I’m all about bringing people up with me. They believed in me from the beginning so I wouldn’t just do one release and leave… it’s called loyalty!

What does the vinyl format mean to you? If you’re a collector, how did you get started and what types of records do you like to collect?

I started in my teens with whatever I could find at thrift stores. “Sounds to make you shiver” was a good one and probably the scratched to hell “Rumours” by Fleetwood Mac (which I still have). It started with riot grrrl releases! There was a time when whatever Kill Rock Stars put out without question, without hearing it, I would just buy it, because I knew it would be amazing. I have an affinity for the female voices so the majority of my collection is that. I have thousands of pieces of vinyl. Not to sound to snobby, but I only buy NM or Mint vinyl now.

Do you have any white whale records that you’ve never been able to find?

I’m going to say something I never thought I would say but I pretty much have all the records that I want. I know what your readers are thinking ‘well there you have it he’s not a real collector’, not true! It changed throughout the years. When I was doing my tumblr 365 it was an og pressing of Live Through This, got it. Not to mention a white label candy heart promo copy of Hole demos and rarities. Then it was all about getting them signed. I have signatures by: Kat Bjelland, Mary Timony, Louise Post, Janet Weiss, Theo Kogan etc. I even got The Craft soundtrack signed by Rachel True. Believe me, there are still records I would like to have but I know where they are. I still need singles like LaVern Baker “Voodoo, Voodoo”, Donna Lynn “I’d Much Rather Be with the Girls”, April Stevens “Kiss me tiger”, and Betty Lavette’s “Witchcraft in the air” It’s a cash issue as I am sure it is with a lot of collectors. Also, there are records that aren’t on vinyl that I’m waiting for like, Frumpies “One Piece”, the Jawbreaker soundtrack, Juliana Hatfield’s “Made in China”, even Sheryl Crow’s self-titled album lol!

Last Question! What’s a bit of Dramathan trivia that you’ve never told anyone in print before!

Until this album I had never wrote songs about one particular person. Even if it’s an it’s a very devasting break up song or about a boy (usually a diss track) it’s always snippets of many different experiences tied together. I feel in doing so, like, when you compile many different experiences that feel similar it has a synergistic effect and a lot more people can relate. Collecting all the teardrops to make the tidal wave sort of thing. Also, I feel like if I were to hone in on one person I would destroy them psychically! One song in particular is about my best bruja Lily. Who in my darkest hour showed up in my dream and I did the same in hers on the same night. She told me I “dream jumped” and as an avid student of the esoteric believe she saved me both in my dream and in real life because I was really depressed.

Also, I mention Angelyne in the album because we met for coffee and she drove me around Hollywood in her iconic pink corvette (for free I might add) and while writing L.A. Water I kept the pink quartz crystal she gave me in sight.

#dramathan #jonnotthin #finebrothers #finebros #adultsreact #diy #indierock #surfrock #california #pop #kerchowrecords

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petitprincess1 · 5 years

Text

My Heroic AU (Now with even more OCs)

Warning: Longer(er) Post!

Doing another one of these explaining my AU posts because…people care?? Sure. I also will literally make up any excuse to talk about my OCs. I love them and I want people to know everything about them. I’m like an annoying mom. Click here for the first post about my AU and click here for my OCs. I’m gonna be introducing Rogues into this, which are people that work for neither Black nor White. They just do whatever they want and are incredibly lucky they’re alive.

Once again, if people that I tag don’t wish for me to use their art in this, then I am perfectly okay with that.

Now, let’s get right into the news

Dahlia/Floral Fatale (created by @atomic52) Age: ~500 Height: 5 foot 5 Job: Hero/Spy Species: Nymph Background: There’s not much known about Dahlia, since she doesn’t fully know her history herself. All she knows is that she was created, fully grown, in the middle of some forest that she just knew that she was meant to protect at all costs. Although, due to her being pacifist in nature (no pun intended), Dahlia made sure either people got lost within her forest or just happened to find their way back to the entrance again.

She has had to fight before, but never wishes to kill or spill any blood, not even a small scratch. So, she often just made the person fall unconscious or get a few bruises. She also makes sure to leave healing plants nearby, so that they got the care they needed.

White Hat ended up finding her on his law, disguised as a bed of bluebells in his garden, which he then thought that she would make a good spy. He even trained her within his own home, just in case she needed to be a houseplant at any chance. One would see that a pink-and-green-skinned female walking around would be very obvious, but, apparently, not on Hat Island…and with very stupid people. Personality: Dahlia is all things adorable and kind. Whenever she giggles or has any extreme happy emotion, she can spawn multiple flowers, trees, and whatever fauna she can imagine. She also loves to try and give second chances, which works out weirdly well. A person could be trying to set fire to her, but then mere moments later, they have their head on her lap, crying their eyes out about wondering why their parents never loved them.

Dahlia also communicates with flowers like a little old lady, except the flowers do have a way of responding. One may see flowers immediately bloom whenever she’s in a good mood or slightly wilt if she’s feeling sad. They also will even blow in the wind when talking back to her, even if she is in a windless room. She also even have names for each individual flower on her dress and will get slightly upset if you mess them up.

Despite being kind hearted, she is not naive. Dahlia often will question White’s decisions and wish to try to change his mind on his more crueler punishments, but she often gets ignored by him. So, she just tries to keep her distance, do as she is told, and talk to her flower buddies.

~~~

Madeleine Barnes/The Executioner (created by @squiderdoodle) Age: 29 Height: (with boots on) 6 foot (with boots off) 5 foot 9 Job: Hero for hire/Sniper Background: Maddy was born out in a podunk town down in Alabama where pretty much everyone knew everyone. So, it wasn’t odd of her to know every single thing that’s going on in town and who all was going to be where. Her dad first taught her how to use a gun when she was about 5-years-old, since he wanted her to always have some way of protecting herself, but also to use it for the right reasons. This ended up getting her interested in artillery and even went to ranges starting when she was 10 or 11. She was especially interested in anything dealing with long-range.

When she was about 18, Madeleine was selected to be a part of government funding program that was meant to make superbeings to go against any of Black Hat level threat. They thought she made a good candidate, but no one ever told her why or how, just that she was simply selected..and that she had no choice. So, after going to an undisclosed location in the back of a van that had a white top hat on it, Mads was immediately put through multiple trainings (mostly including shooting and hand-to-hand combat) and screenings to see when she was ready for the serum they created.

Long, painful story short, after several years of multiple surgeries and injections, her body basically became almost impervious to any kinds of fractures or broken bones or even some diseases. She had enhanced endurance, agility, and sight, which was given to those that they believed would be better snipers. Madeleine participated in a few espionage events where she had to take out dictators, infiltrate secret organizations, and even save multiple hostages from a highly lethal situation. Despite being often in a team, she was the one mainly running ahead and taking most of the damage, messing up her body. However, she always had a smile on her face. As long as she knew she was helping people, she was okay. A happy gal.

The one time she frowned was when she was being taken away by a feathery, light grey-skinned man wearing a top hat and she watched as the rest of the candidate get slaughtered, due to being…inefficient. Personality: Madeleine has always been such a happy girl and always looking on the bright side, which often confused enemies she was dealing with. Heck, she could be fighting you face-to-face and still want to keep a conversation about your life goals. Her southern hospitality will sometimes get in the way of her judgement, since she will sometimes let those that she deem not a threat go or even offer lodgings. This often leads with her having to make quick escapes, due to her location being compromised.

She also ended switching to less lethal bullets and more like miniature injectors that mostly would knock an enemy out or put them to sleep. Mads just felt like those that are just working for some dictators didn’t deserve to die. Plus, she just knew that White would bring them back to life in a painful way, so…give them some kind of comfort.

She also loves to go working out or going for jogs when it’s bright and early. You better believe that she also waves hi and says good morning to everyone she passes. One time she even hugged someone so tightly, she accidentally severed their spine. …She sent many flowers. Mads will also have a few gym competitions with Clemencia to see who can get more fit, which it often ends with them dying of many sore limbs.

Madeleine is mostly loyal to White, due to trauma and sometimes he can be nice. …He’s a hero…he can’t be that bad.

~~~

Father Paddock/B.P. (created by @realtoasted and @jaks-ass) Age: Old Height: 6 foot 3 Job: Rogue Background: B.P. remembers very little about his past life. When he was raised from the dead by a necromancer, all he knew were the initials B.P., that he were a plague doctor in his past life, and that magic was given to him by his “master”. He also knew much about the victims of his heinous crimes and felt like this revival were a punishment. So, when he killed his necromancer, he learned the ways of dark magic and set on a personal quest.

All those that he deemed unholy or a threat were given pestilence, sickness, and decay by B.P. and were tortured slowly as punishment. Those that weren’t a threat were promised a much quicker and peaceful death. Death will come to all. Personality: Due to being a walking corpse, who is nothing but bones, decaying skin, shriveled organs, and bone underneath, he has very little to no personality. B.P. cares very little for his victims and shows no joy and barely remorse for those who he will kill. However, he does show some guilt for those that he robbed off a good life many, many years ago. He believes that this will right the wrongs that he did so many years ago.

B.P. doesn’t care for White Hat or Black Hat nor does he fear them. He just wishes to do his job and be sent back to an eternal rest, despite knowing where he will go when he does sleep. However, he won’t say no when offered a job that he is even a little interested in, especially if it means taking away the life of those that have squandered it.

~~~

Victor/Azrail (created by @lady-bepou) Age: As old as earth…but appears around 50 in disguise. Height: 6 foot 1 Job: Rouge Species: Lich Background: Unknown Personality: Victor is actually lich demon that’s disguised as a businessman that is a “rival” to White Hat and Black Hat. He mostly sells to the lower villains and heroes to help them rise to the top, those that are often in high regards with Black and White. However, there is a catch. They must either give their soul up to him or be ready to become amongst his legion. A lot often take the soul route, thinking that it’s the obvious choice, but once they step out of line, he crushes their soul and they suddenly succumb to something akin to a heart attack. Unfortunately, it is one they cannot live from and they end up becoming a part of his undead army. No memories, no emotion, nothing. Just a mindless puppet for him to enjoy playing with.

However, Victor does have standards. When it comes to taking the soul of children or parents, he will not steal them away. He deems them too easy to take control of and…it’s a little rude. He also rarely uses his magic and it only uses it for more defensive purposes. His magic is akin Black’s magic, but nowhere near as strong, but he definitely could put up a fight. Although, he tends to be more hidden when it comes to dealing with the Hats.

Victor also loves to manipulate those to think that they have control and once they believe they have the upperhand, he isn’t afraid to remind them that they are dealing with a demon. In that case, he has no problem slowly suffocating someone’s child, if it means that they can see the pained look on their face.

What else is there to say? It’s fun to be absolutely despised and feared.

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