(via tampagirl1)


What if Ra’s Al Ghul is Felicity’s father?
(via beijingdoll) Interesting concept…Ra’s having 3 daughters and all 3 fall for heroes….I vote yes. Much better than Ivo or Slade or someone like that.

effie214:

bringing home baby by effie214 featuring cuff jeans
"We’re home," Felicity says softly as she pushes the front door open, glancing down and smiling even wider — she wouldn’t have thought it possible, but then again, most of her life of the last four years has been pretty remarkable; she really shouldn’t be surprised at this point — when she realized Charlotte’s woken up just in time for Felicity to step across the threshold and welcome their new family home.
(They’ve redefined that word time and again over the days.
She think she likes this one best.)
She glances over her shoulder and can’t quite suppress a laugh when she sees Oliver fighting with the numerous bouquets sent to wish them congratulations on their daughter’s arrival. Somehow he gets the lift gate shut and does something interesting with his hip that, when she’s healed, she’ll have to ask him to repeat in their bedroom, shuts the rest of the doors. His eyes light up when he sees his two girls on the front porch, and glancing between her daughter and her husband, Felicity finally understands that this is their reward for surviving all they have. 

effie214:

"We’re home," Felicity says softly as she pushes the front door open, glancing down and smiling even wider — she wouldn’t have thought it possible, but then again, most of her life of the last four years has been pretty remarkable; she really shouldn’t be surprised at this point — when she realized Charlotte’s woken up just in time for Felicity to step across the threshold and welcome their new family home.

(They’ve redefined that word time and again over the days.

She think she likes this one best.)

She glances over her shoulder and can’t quite suppress a laugh when she sees Oliver fighting with the numerous bouquets sent to wish them congratulations on their daughter’s arrival. Somehow he gets the lift gate shut and does something interesting with his hip that, when she’s healed, she’ll have to ask him to repeat in their bedroom, shuts the rest of the doors. His eyes light up when he sees his two girls on the front porch, and glancing between her daughter and her husband, Felicity finally understands that this is their reward for surviving all they have. 


effie214:


rescue by effie214 featuring Free People
The last thing she remembers is the rage in her veins as they reached in the overturned car and took Oliver.
Read More

effie214:

The last thing she remembers is the rage in her veins as they reached in the overturned car and took Oliver.

Read More


effie214:

outed by effie214 featuring a pleated cocktail dress
"I think," she says, an amused lilt to her voice and a matching sparkle to her eye, "that we are being followed."
Despite her airy tone, the panic still settles in his throat, the fight-or-flight response flaring deep in his belly, and it’s only her hand on his arm and the soft murmuring of his name that calms it even a little. They’re walking through a small park downtown on a sunny spring Saturday, cups of ice cream in hand. 
A normal couple on a normal day out.
Of all the things he’s been, of all the people he’s known, the things he’s done, the things he’s witnessed, this baffles him most. Not just because it’s happening — this is the defining drive in his life — but because it fits better than any other mask he’s worn before.
(That’s probably because he doesn’t wear one with her; she sees everything, knows the best and the worst of it all and loves him anyway.)
They stop adjacent to a bench and he’s able to turn subtly enough to see someone with a camera in his periphery. He thinks he recognizes the man from the rope line at Verdant or at the dedication of the new QC Applied Sciences Division; he works for one of the local papers. 
"I wonder if I’ll be ‘mystery blonde’ or ‘companion’ this time," she muses aloud, and though there’s still amusement in her voice, something heavy settles in the pit of his stomach. There’s been speculation the two of them are an item, but he’d vowed to keep her safe, and this sacred, so they’d done their best to fly beneath the radar. He also prefers not to be Oliver Queen, of days gone by — club owner, party boy, even CEO; instead, he prefers to be Oliver Queen lounging on Felicity Smoak’s couch with her bare feet tucked between his calves because her toes are cold, and the only people who need to bear witness to that are the ones actually in the relationship. 
But as he stands and looks at her, this woman — despite her protests that he saved himself and she just helped — deserves so much more than that. He wants the world to know he loves her, and somewhat miraculously, that she loves him. He wants them to see the evolution, the healing; speak of her mastery at fixing that which is broken. 
He wants them to see how remarkable she is; all the things that made him fall for her.
She’s got chocolate on the side of her mouth, and it’s so easy to bend down and kiss it away, so he does. He hears the click of the lens behind them, but he leans into the embrace, into her and into them, and she cups his elbow even as she hums against his mouth. 
"Think that’ll satisfy ‘em?" he asks quietly, and smiles against her mouth when she shakes her head. 
He slides his arm around her and pulls her to him, deepening the kiss, and she winds her arms around her neck. The cup of ice cream is cold against his neck but he ignores it; he is Icarus and she the sun, and there’s nothing in the world that will convince him not to fly close to her. 
Sure enough, they end up on Page Six the next morning, but it’s actually a remarkably pretty photo, so she cuts it out, kisses him, and goes to put it on the fridge. 

effie214:

"I think," she says, an amused lilt to her voice and a matching sparkle to her eye, "that we are being followed."

Despite her airy tone, the panic still settles in his throat, the fight-or-flight response flaring deep in his belly, and it’s only her hand on his arm and the soft murmuring of his name that calms it even a little. They’re walking through a small park downtown on a sunny spring Saturday, cups of ice cream in hand. 

A normal couple on a normal day out.

Of all the things he’s been, of all the people he’s known, the things he’s done, the things he’s witnessed, this baffles him most. Not just because it’s happening — this is the defining drive in his life — but because it fits better than any other mask he’s worn before.

(That’s probably because he doesn’t wear one with her; she sees everything, knows the best and the worst of it all and loves him anyway.)

They stop adjacent to a bench and he’s able to turn subtly enough to see someone with a camera in his periphery. He thinks he recognizes the man from the rope line at Verdant or at the dedication of the new QC Applied Sciences Division; he works for one of the local papers. 

"I wonder if I’ll be ‘mystery blonde’ or ‘companion’ this time," she muses aloud, and though there’s still amusement in her voice, something heavy settles in the pit of his stomach. There’s been speculation the two of them are an item, but he’d vowed to keep her safe, and this sacred, so they’d done their best to fly beneath the radar. He also prefers not to be Oliver Queen, of days gone by — club owner, party boy, even CEO; instead, he prefers to be Oliver Queen lounging on Felicity Smoak’s couch with her bare feet tucked between his calves because her toes are cold, and the only people who need to bear witness to that are the ones actually in the relationship. 

But as he stands and looks at her, this woman — despite her protests that he saved himself and she just helped — deserves so much more than that. He wants the world to know he loves her, and somewhat miraculously, that she loves him. He wants them to see the evolution, the healing; speak of her mastery at fixing that which is broken. 

He wants them to see how remarkable she is; all the things that made him fall for her.

She’s got chocolate on the side of her mouth, and it’s so easy to bend down and kiss it away, so he does. He hears the click of the lens behind them, but he leans into the embrace, into her and into them, and she cups his elbow even as she hums against his mouth. 

"Think that’ll satisfy ‘em?" he asks quietly, and smiles against her mouth when she shakes her head. 

He slides his arm around her and pulls her to him, deepening the kiss, and she winds her arms around her neck. The cup of ice cream is cold against his neck but he ignores it; he is Icarus and she the sun, and there’s nothing in the world that will convince him not to fly close to her. 

Sure enough, they end up on Page Six the next morning, but it’s actually a remarkably pretty photo, so she cuts it out, kisses him, and goes to put it on the fridge. 


effie214:

i love you by effie214 featuring a blue purse
They go out with Walter to celebrate the re-acquisition of QC and his being named CEO. Somehow they end up in Oliver’s old office, and the air doesn’t feel as heavy or tense as it used to. She steps to the large glass windows overlooking the city, and watches as its streets do not burn — unlike the hands at her shoulders, fingers rubbing across the bare skin and then pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck. Oliver’s arms come around her, and he links his fingers, resting his chin on her shoulder and his hands on her stomach. 
"You did it," she says quietly, and feels him shake his head, dropping another kiss just below her ear, tightening his hold when a shiver runs through her.
“We did it,” he corrects gently. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”
She shakes her head as well, her hand sliding up to cup his cheek, and he nestles closer to her as her thumb strokes his jaw. 
She opens her mouth to argue, but somehow “I love you” comes tumbling out. Because for everything they’ve fought, everything they’ve won and lost, and everything they’re discovering a scant few months into this new romantic relationship, loving Oliver Queen is still the biggest thing she’ll ever do. 
He sucks in a shaky breath and turns her in his arms, resting their foreheads together. Her eyes slide shut and they just stand in the still silence; they breathe for what feels like the first time in forever. He cradles her face, running his thumbs over her cheekbones. “Felicity,” he sighs, and it’s penance and forgiveness and salvation and a future all rolled into four syllables. 
She kisses him before he says it back, because other than being big, loving Oliver Queen — and him loving her — is the only truth she’s found that matters.

effie214:

They go out with Walter to celebrate the re-acquisition of QC and his being named CEO. Somehow they end up in Oliver’s old office, and the air doesn’t feel as heavy or tense as it used to. She steps to the large glass windows overlooking the city, and watches as its streets do not burn — unlike the hands at her shoulders, fingers rubbing across the bare skin and then pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck. Oliver’s arms come around her, and he links his fingers, resting his chin on her shoulder and his hands on her stomach. 

"You did it," she says quietly, and feels him shake his head, dropping another kiss just below her ear, tightening his hold when a shiver runs through her.

We did it,” he corrects gently. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

She shakes her head as well, her hand sliding up to cup his cheek, and he nestles closer to her as her thumb strokes his jaw. 

She opens her mouth to argue, but somehow “I love you” comes tumbling out. Because for everything they’ve fought, everything they’ve won and lost, and everything they’re discovering a scant few months into this new romantic relationship, loving Oliver Queen is still the biggest thing she’ll ever do. 

He sucks in a shaky breath and turns her in his arms, resting their foreheads together. Her eyes slide shut and they just stand in the still silence; they breathe for what feels like the first time in forever. He cradles her face, running his thumbs over her cheekbones. “Felicity,” he sighs, and it’s penance and forgiveness and salvation and a future all rolled into four syllables. 

She kisses him before he says it back, because other than being big, loving Oliver Queen — and him loving her — is the only truth she’s found that matters.



forevryourqueen:

macxguevara:

forevryourqueen:

Oh thank god for this post. Can we have 1000 notes by Sunday?

This!

Okay since we surpassed 1,000 notes and it’s only Friday … How about 3,000 by Sunday? We can OBVIOUSLY do this!!

(via tampagirl1)


cute-overload:

The look he gives me as he whacks me when I stop paying attention to him.http://cute-overload.tumblr.com

cute-overload:

The look he gives me as he whacks me when I stop paying attention to him.
http://cute-overload.tumblr.com


Fallaces Sunt Rerum Species

(via sarcasticfina)



I see into your soul, Doctor… I see Beauty, Divinity, Hatred. (x)

I see into your soul, Doctor… I see BeautyDivinityHatred. (x)

(via puckering-gustin)


graphic battle / hoechin
round two: up close and personal

(via martinlydias)


ienvythewind:

3.18 Bleeding Through

ienvythewind:

3.18 Bleeding Through

(via tampagirl1)



shuckl:

considerthishippie:

What is a flotation tank?

500 kg of Epsom salts are added to 1000 litres of water, creating a 30 cm deep solution, which is heated to 35.5 degrees C (skin temperature).

The temperature of the water means that once you are settled in the tank, it is virtually impossible to distinguish between parts of the body that are in contact with the water, and those that aren’t, in effect “fooling” the brain into believing that the person is floating in mid-air.

image

I still want this soooo fucking bad. I NEED to do this once in my life…preferably tripping balls

(via befitandchase)