Hi.. i'm Andy i'm 26 now, god i'm getting old, anyway i watch a lot of tv shows and movies, just so you know, and i love fashion, so this is a multiple fandom blog and a fashion blog. So if you wanna follow me thats what you gonna get...
Lupita Nyong’o photographed by steven pan for dujour magazine"my life changed about three weeks ago. that’s when my schedule went from nil to this […] lots of people come up and touch my back and want to give me a hug. At this point, it’s not too crazy. i let them hug me.”
sophie turner by james meakin outtakes
Emily Bett Rickards by Alana Paterson
Sophie Turner for Karen Millen’s 2014 Fall Campaign
It had been a moment of weakness, the instant in which Felicity Smoak uttered those two most fatal words.
Night after night she recounted that occasion, remembered seeing Oliver Queen standing across from her, his face grim, his jaw set. He’d said the words as well, and their fates had been bound together. It hadn’t been romantic. It had been a business transaction.
Felicity Smoak had, rather unfortunately, become privy to information regarding her boss Oliver’s connections to certain high-profile crimes. As his personal assistant at Queen Consolidated, she was primely positioned to learn everything about him.
But she’d needed protection from her past, and Oliver could give her that. Oliver Queen? He had needed to be sure Felicity would never speak out against him in a court of law. A deal was struck.
And so began her dark spiral into the underworld of the Russian mob. She lived under almost constant threat of death, and yet, strangely, she had never felt safer. It hadn’t taken long for Oliver’s associates to warm up to the new Queen. They revered her, adored her, and there was a list a mile long of those among them who would lay down their lives to protect her from harm. In a city where one cop in fifty was a good man, that knowledge allowed Felicity to sleep soundly at night.
It drove Oliver insane. The men thought it was jealousy. Felicity thought it was some ridiculous need to assert his control. Oliver tried not to think about it at all.
The marriage was a peculiar one. She hated Oliver Queen. He…didn’t say a damned thing about what he thought of her. But the overwhelming sentiment the moment they had both signed the marriage contract was essentially, “Damn it all, couldn’t we have thought of any other way?” They were married, and they would live despicably ever after.
She would always recall that first evening together with a shudder. Oh, that night! She recalled Oliver showing her to her room, her heart beating in her throat as she realized that the marriage wasn’t a legally binding one until….
“You don’t have to touch me!” the words had tumbled out of her mouth bluntly, before she could contain them or rearrange them more delicately.
Oliver’s tiny laugh had sent a chill through her blood, as he stepped closer to her, his eyes dark. “Don’t I?”
“I…no…” she whispered. “I agreed to this. I’ll say it was–was–” she stammered.
“Consummated?” Oliver had provided the word, and the air had rushed right out of her. He stepped still closer and she’d found herself backed against a wall (Oh, what a fitting metaphor for her life in that moment! Backed against a wall, indeed!). “What,” he asked quietly, his eyes flickering to her lips, “if I say I don’t trust you?”
105 MOST INSPIRATIONAL FICTIONAL LADIES» 82. Felicity Smoak (Arrow)
I’ve always wanted to say I’ve taken a bullet for someone and now I can. Yay.