#( probably just a cheap hospital one at a thrift store near me ) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

raywritesthings · 4 years ago

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Bird in a Storm, 10/17

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Quentin Lance, John Diggle, Helena Bertinelli, Raisa, Joanna de la Vega, Ted Grant, Female OCs, Male OCs Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: The confrontation between the Hood and SWAT on the roof of the Winick Building goes differently, altering the course of Laurel’s career, relationships and efforts to save her city forever, the shockwaves of such an altered path making themselves felt throughout her family and friends. *Can be read on my AO3, link is in bio*

So far, so good, Laurel kept telling herself over the next week. Mr. Khan and his shop remained unharmed, those thugs hadn’t made any reprisals or found her out, and the police hadn’t come knocking on her door. She was in the clear.

But the clear wasn’t good enough. One night wasn’t good enough. If she was going to make any real difference in the Glades, she was going to have to keep on with it.

Time to get serious.

It was hard knowing what to do or how to proceed outside of just saying she would to herself, though. After all, even if she didn’t really want to imitate the Hood in all matters, she had to admit Ollie’s vaunted list gave him an itinerary. The best she could hope for would be to wander around and wait for crime to happen. Not that that was a far-fetched prospect in the Glades.

But she couldn’t just stand around at night in a ski mask, either. That would give people the opposite idea of what she was going for. So then, maybe some updates to her look were in order.

She reflected on this as she entered the thrift store. Ostensibly, she was grabbing some things for the approaching warmer weather, but she wasn’t above browsing around for ideas. Was a scarf too Western? Would it fall off too easily?

Beside the clearance racks where she’d picked out a new shirt was a small bin labeled “free”. Maybe she wasn’t absolutely destitute, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a look through.

Most of it was clothes that were completely out of season, not to mention fashion. A toy car that was missing one wheel and a few ugly patterned scarves were also in amongst the clutter.

Her thumb snagged an elastic band and she pulled out a black domino mask. Probably discarded from some Halloween costume. Laurel studied it for a moment, then slowly lifted it towards her face.

It’d be less sweaty, and easier to breathe in. Cheap as this one was. Maybe it’d be better to save up and make her own. She’d continued practicing hand-sewing during the slow hours at work, in the event that she might develop small holes or tears in her clothes that could be patched up instead of thrown away. And hand-stitching had other uses considering what she was planning.

Laurel left the mask in the bin and took her other purchases up to the register, mind still racing with ideas.

She’d need more than a mask to conceal her identity. But she didn’t want a hood. If she was doing this, she didn’t want to be seen as only some lackey of Oliver’s. This was her own mission, her own way.

A head covering in general would limit her visibility plus make her stand out pretty readily. She needed something discreet. Laurel didn’t have fancy arrows with lines attached that could pull her up the side of a building in moments. She had to be able to make a getaway, even in a crowd.

She needed to look like a woman.

It was so simple when it hit her. So long as she could be any woman — just some woman, with great hair and a body — they would never bother to see past the mask. She just had to not look like herself too much, that was the key. Dye was too permanent; a wig would disguise her hair better.

Over the next week she made the necessary purchases, each at a different shop and in cash. The important thing was not to let it be traced back to her.

As for weapons, she looked into something she could carry on her person. A baseball bat was way too conspicuous for a woman in her twenties to be walking around with. Eventually, she was drawn to a collapsible bo staff. She’d seen staffs hanging on the wall at the Wildcat Gym and knew Oliver used them for sparring practice with Mr. Diggle. It was a weapon she felt comfortable using with some practice, which she nudged a reluctant Ted into.

“I just want to try different things, you know?” She’d said with a casual shrug. “No point getting pigeon-holed.” Losing her job as a lawyer and realizing she had no real backup plan had taught her that the hard way.

She went out the first night she got all her gear together, knowing if she hesitated that she would find a way to talk herself out of it. The long hair of the wig swishing around her shoulders was a familiar weight. With her hands shoved in her jacket pockets — one hand over the staff and one hand over the mask, she walked around, watching and waiting.

Only she didn’t really find anything, other than a few catcalls. The next day, she saw there had been a reported mugging halfway across the Glades from where she’d staked out.

It was like this over the next few nights. She wasn’t where she needed to be or she’d get there just after she was needed. It occurred to her that this was probably why Oliver tended to stick to his list; it was full of ongoing problems he could investigate and then decide to attack in his own time.

She didn’t have the luxury of a base of operations or the ability to get into and out of high rises safely, though. And she wanted to be on the ground, handling the problems Jerome and Mrs. Ross had talked about. The problems she saw every day. She’d just have to get lucky.

The next night, she did.

The only gas station in the Glades was hit up for a robbery just as she was passing by. Laurel caught the flash of a gun out of the corner of her eye through the store window and quickly ran to the wall, flattening herself against it to get a better look. Two men, one pointing the gun and the other shoveling money from the register into a bag. They weren’t even bothering with ski masks, just hats pulled over their hair and jacket collars popped.

She glanced up at the security camera pointed at the front door. Its light was off. It wasn’t on, or perhaps it had never been plugged in.

Laurel got out her mask and extended the staff.

The door banged open as she stood and landed a hit low on the first man’s legs just as he ran out. He toppled over, his face smacking into the pavement. His partner in crime stumbled over him right into her fist, falling back against the wall. Laurel wrenched the gun out of his fingers and took note of the safety. Still on. The clip was empty. She shook her head.

“Who the fuck are you?” The guy on the ground spat. There was blood on his lip.

“Just someone in the neighborhood.”

With two hits of her staff, they were both knocked unconscious. She picked up the bag of cash, opened the door again, and tossed it towards the counter at the clerk, who was watching with wide eyes. Laurel didn’t wait for a response, knowing her priority was now to get as far away from the scene as possible.

Her heart pumped with adrenaline as she fled several streets away, a wide grin stretched over her lips. She had done it, and it still felt great. What did a few boring nights matter if every so often she could manage something like this?

Of course, it began to take a toll on her schedule. She woke up later, didn’t have near as much time before work to get her day started. She saw the few friends she had less.

Joanna took it the hardest. “I’m not gonna see you at work when I go back, Laurel. And sorry, but you don’t have the excuse of being too busy to have a social life anymore. So do you just not want to be friends?”

“It’s not that, Jo. Never. I’m just… trying to work out some things. Figure out where my life’s going.”

Her friend had scoffed over the line. “Well let me know if I’m still in it.” She’d hung up shortly after.

It was easier now to see things from Oliver’s point of view; how he’d tried to maintain relationships without letting slip what was really going on in his life. It made her miss him fiercely.

They hadn’t talked much since after Mr. Merlyn’s hospitalization. Ostensibly, they still weren’t supposed to be friends, after all. And Laurel hesitated to reach out to him about her new nighttime activities; something told her he wouldn’t approve.

Well, that wasn’t Ollie’s job to approve or not, so it was simply better for the both of them if she kept it to herself. He had enough on his plate seeing as the Hood was still going out at nights, taking on the elites in this city.

She was just doing her part where she could, making sure the people he was trying to help got that help sooner rather than later. It was his upbringing, she knew, that caused him to see things the way he did. The big picture instead of the small.

Laurel would aim to improve things from the bottom up while he continued to work from the top down. Maybe they’d meet somewhere in the middle someday.

She did her best to brush aside that sort of wishful thinking. It would be silly to think after everything that there was any sort of future for them. She didn’t even know what future there was for herself.

But as long as she could do something good, she would keep going.

---

Anita was starting to wonder if her Avó had been right about coming to live in Brazil. These past few months in Starling had been crazy.

It wasn’t as if she hated it at Avó’s either. She loved the cooking, loved the weather, loved the language. The only trouble would be, as always, money. Jerome wasn’t near fluent enough in Portuguese to find good work, and she couldn’t be too sure of it herself. They were just getting by in the States, and as long as that was enough for them she’d be happy to stay.

She’d gotten lucky. While other girls had been chasing after gangbangers and potheads in school, her Jerome had gotten a job to support him and his grandma. He’d always been the responsible type.

His grandma had passed three years ago, and the medical bills and funeral arrangements had put a strain on their finances, enough to convince them to sell the old house to a developer and start renting. A real estate agent had assured them the Glades was going to start gentrifying and that they’d be able to get a good price.

Only the sale hadn’t yielded as much as they’d hoped, so they’d remained stuck in the Glades instead of moving to a better, safer neighborhood. It didn’t bother her so much right now. But in a few years when they might have kids on the way? She wanted them going to good schools, not the poor excuse for school she and Jerome had attended.

They did their best to save, but there was always something coming down the pipe they weren’t expecting. At least they didn’t have a car. The repairs would be killer.

There was always crazy stuff going on in Starling City these days, too. Ever since some guy had decided to become a souped up Robin Hood last fall and take out his anger issues on a bunch of rich folks. As long as he kept it to them, Anita didn’t mind so much. For the first several weeks or so, it had created a buzz of conversation through the neighborhood. This guy was trying to change things, maybe. And in some cases he did. Here or there, people got their money back.

But the wealthy were good at consolidating what they had. Companies transferred from corrupt CEOs to corrupt board rooms, money disappeared before it could be returned to the right owners. And this guy liked to drop bodies. That part, Anita wasn’t so keen on.

Because there were people getting more violent in the Glades now, too. Drug dealers, young and angry men unsupervised by the old mob hierarchy. This Hood didn’t seem to have a backup plan for any of that.

Jerome was frustrated by it far more than she was. “I mean, did we ask this guy to come here and fight for us? Stir up trouble? Did he come talk to any of us, see what we wanted?”

“No, he didn’t,” she dutifully agreed before bringing out both their dinners. She kissed him on the cheek as she went around him. “But it’d be hard for him to ask around without giving the game away, huh?”

“Yeah.” Jerome dug into his food and there was quiet from his end of the table for a while. “You know, the guys are saying there’s some woman out there now.”

“A woman?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Well, good for her.”

He grinned. “You like that? They’re saying she’s a real, how’s it go — right, gata.”

Anita arched an eyebrow. “You gonna leave me for her?”

He kept grinning. “Never, baby, you know me better than that.”

“Then she can be as good-looking as she wants.” Anita pushed her plate aside and came over to him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. “I don’t mind.”

At work, she started hearing the rumors, too, over the next few days. “Nobody knows where she came from,” said Lanh in hushed excitement as they stood one sink apart. “But she gave a man following my roommate home a black eye the other night.”

“No kidding?”

“Yeah. It’s cool, isn’t it?”

No killing, dealing with stuff in the neighborhood. It was like someone had come in and asked around or sat in on their talks, then decided to make all their wishes and hopes come true in the form of a lady in black leather. Seemed crazy, but that was life now.

She stopped by next door to see Laurel, wanting to get her opinion. After all, wasn’t she here because of her support for vigilantism in the first place?

Only when her neighbor answered the door, it was clear she’d only just finished stitching up a nasty cut on her arm.

“Ooh, honey, what happened?”

“Just a work accident. Shears, you know?” Laurel let her in and hurriedly cleared up some bloodied napkins. “What’s up?”

Anita decided to leave her questioning behind. “Just wanted to see if you were free. We should have a night out, you know?”

“Okay, your place or mine?”

Anita waved a hand. “I was thinking a little more exciting than that. They’re saying the Verdant’s finally opening.”

Laurel raised both eyebrows. “Are they?”

“Mm-hm. Wanna check it out?”

“I don’t know…”

She leaned over the counter towards her friend. “Come on. Nights in only feel better if you go out sometimes, too. Variety’s the spice of life.”

“It’s going to be packed,” Laurel pointed out. “We’d be lucky to wait in line for three hours before getting in.”

“Couple of good looking girls like us?” Anita grinned. “Besides, you know the owner.”

Her friend shook her head. “Oliver and I aren’t that close anymore.”

“Right, which is why you call him Oliver and not ‘Queen’ or ‘my cheating bastard of an ex’,” said Anita. “Come on, billionaire boy owes you a million favors, so why not call one in? It’ll be fun. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

She watched Laurel debate it for a few minutes. “Alright. But if he says no, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He said yes, clearly, because Laurel sent her a text that afternoon saying what time they should be there. No mention of a cover fee either, which was interesting. She’d have to meet billionaire boy herself to be sure, but if Anita’s intuition was any good, she’d say Oliver Queen was still pining away for her neighbor despite his cheating past. So Anita would be happy to drink his booze and help her friend kick him to the curb if need be.

They walked to the Verdant together, skipping the line entirely by going through a back door Laurel had been told about. A man just about shorter than Jerome but beefier greeted them inside. “Laurel.”

“Mr. Diggle. This is my neighbor, Anita.”

He nodded to her. “Pleasure to meet you, miss.”

“You too. Swanky place,” she said, getting a good look around as she took steps further in. The bass was already vibrating in her bones.

“Um, if you could pass on our thanks to Oliver. I’m sure he’s very busy tonight,” Laurel was saying.

“I’m sure once he’s finished showing his family the place that he’ll be making the time. Mr. Queen’s been doing some re-evaluating lately. But I’ll let you enjoy your evening.”

“Re-evaluating?” Anita asked as they left the man to head out onto the main floor.

Laurel shook her head. “Let’s not get into that. I think our first drinks are on the house.”

The drinks were excellent, it turned out. Here and there they met a scant few familiar faces, and Anita introduced Laurel to them. She couldn’t help noticing that most of the patrons clearly weren’t from around here; too many Rolexes and real jewels on wrists. Looked like the gentrification had finally begun.

“I’m going to get us another round,” she spoke loudly into Laurel’s ear. Tonight wasn’t for thinking those kinds of things. It was for just letting loose and pretending life wasn’t so crap sometimes.

As Anita returned with the drinks, her pace slowed. There was a woman with dark hair standing behind her friend and gripping Laurel’s arm tightly. Anita ducked around a couple chattering away to get closer without drawing attention to herself.

To her surprise, Laurel seemed to recognize this stranger. “Helena?”

“Laurel, good to see you. Almost didn’t recognize you,” said the woman.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing personal, but I heard about your fall from grace. Must’ve stung when you realized Oliver wasn’t really there for you. He never is.”

“Let me go, Helena.”

“Sorry, but you’re my insurance policy. We’re going downstairs to wait for Oliver, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll come quietly.”

Anita had just about heard enough. She looked around frantically for the security — they were either at the doors or far against the walls and couldn’t see them out here in the throng of people. So she did the next thing she thought of.

“Hey!”

The woman turned towards her direction just in time for Anita’s drink to splash in her face. She staggered back, gasping in shock.

And that was when Laurel sprang into action.

Anita had been planning to take her friend’s arm and run for it, but Laurel’s arms were moving and the woman was down on the floor in seconds, her arms pinned behind her back. She kicked out with both feet, heel gouging Laurel’s leg. Laurel gave a grunt that was only barely heard over the music, sitting on the woman’s thigh hard.

“Hey!”

“What the—”

“Is it a fight?”

“Yeah! Awesome!”

There was a small crowd growing around them, and Anita felt herself pressed between people on either side. Laurel’s arm bore long scratches while she held the woman’s head in a lock Anita could swear she’d never seen outside WWE.

“Excuse me! What’s going on here?”

Anita’s eyes bugged out as suddenly Oliver Queen cut through the crowd on her right. His eyes widened for a moment before he plunged in and grabbed Laurel around the waist, pulling her off the woman. Once she was set down behind him he yanked the other woman up as well, pulling her towards the exit.

The man who let them in before took Laurel’s arm and guided her after them. “Come on, Laurel,” she thought she read off his lips.

Anita rushed after them.

Oliver Queen was shouting at the woman named Helena when they all got outside. “If you ever come after someone I care about again—”

“My father—”

“Is no longer your concern! You do not have any business in Starling, Helena, and you will stay far away from here. Or else.”

Helena’s eyes flashed with anger, but she stalked off into the night.

“Wow,” Anita breathed in the silence. Oliver Queen looked a little surprised and discomforted to find he had an audience.

“Um…”

“Figured it was better for appearance’s sake if both parties caught fighting were escorted out,” Mr. Diggle said.

“And she’s my friend, so I’m sticking with her,” Anita added in explanation.

Oliver Queen nodded before turning to Laurel, one hand touching her arm. “Are you okay?”

Laurel shrugged. “Just fine.”

“What were you thinking?” He asked next. “Helena is dangerous—”

“So I was supposed to let her take me hostage?” Laurel finished for him, eyes narrowing.

“She’s a killer, Laurel.”

Anita’s eyebrows rose at that.

“And I had it taken care of. She was hardly going to kill me if she wanted to take me somewhere.”

The two of them were in each other’s faces, close enough to share the same air. She doubted either of them noticed.

“If something had happened—”

“It didn’t. Can’t you focus on that?”

“But it could have!”

“There’s no point to wondering what could have been, Ollie! Believe me, I’ve tried!” Laurel turned around and started marching away from him, the effect ruined somewhat by a slight limp.

Oliver Queen sighed. “Laurel, wait. Let Digg look at your leg.”

“I’ve got it.”

“Then let me call you a cab. Please.”

Laurel paused, and Anita took the opening. “We’ll take a cab, yeah.”

Laurel fixed her with a frown.

“Honey, you’re bleeding.”

A few minutes later, they were bundled into a cab and leaving the Verdant. What a night out. Jerome was never going to believe this. She’d heard the odd thing here or there since Laurel had moved in and knew of her gym classes, but damn, her friend was a brawler when she wanted to be!

They were halfway home when it hit her. “Shit, that was mob girl, wasn’t it? Huntress or something? She was the one going around whacking her dad’s people.”

Laurel sighed. “Yeah.”

“Okay, then billionaire boy might have a point. Cause they were saying that girl was nuts, you know? Not somebody to get mixed up with.”

“Wasn’t trying to, believe me. But I’m not going to go along and let things happen to me anymore, Anita. That’s not who I am.”

“Probably a good attitude to have in this town. Maybe I should pick Capoeira back up,” she mused.

“Capoeira?”

“Afro-Brazilian fighting style. I took classes after school for a bit, like the Irish girls that do line dancing, you know? There was a place down by our old laundromat. Wonder if it’s still open.”

“We could take a look together. If it’s okay for others to learn,” Laurel added after a moment.

“Sure, but aren’t you busy as it is at that gym?”

Laurel shrugged. “I could make time. And anyway, we’d get to see each other.”

Anita smiled. “Alright, we’ll check it out. But after that leg of yours is better. You’re gonna need it in good condition, believe me.”

They got out in front of Laurel’s and Anita helped her into the house, insisting she help get the leg cleaned up at the least. “You got something to numb that?”

“Not really.”

“Tell me you don’t have work first thing tomorrow.”

“I can manage.”

Anita pushed her hair back. “I mean, what did that bitch want anyway? Why’d she try to take you somewhere?”

Laurel shrugged, her eyes on the floor. “She dated Ollie a few months back.”

“Oh.” Jealous ex to the extreme, then. “You need anything else?”

“No, you should get home.”

“Okay, well just text me, alright? Get plenty of sleep.”

“I will, Anita.” Laurel stiffened when Anita leaned in to hug her. It took a moment for her friend to relax in her arms. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Anita let herself out so Laurel wouldn’t have to get up right away. The younger woman still seemed a little stunned; she suspected Laurel had been the big sister and minder to so many people over the years that she’d forgotten what it was like to have someone looking out for her for a change.

She and Laurel signed up for an intermediate class after they both tested into it; her because of her prior experience and Laurel because she was already quick on her feet. Anita could tell the class was going to kick her butt and complained to Jerome about it for hours as he rubbed her feet after the first lesson.

“Guess someone was a little jealous of that woman in black after all,” he teased.

“Yeah, just you wait. My legs are gonna look fantastic. You’ll be picking your jaw off the floor.”

As the days went on and there were more growing rumors of this woman in the Glades, she felt herself newly inspired. When women looked out for each other, it made the neighborhood all the better.

Though the more she heard and the more she watched Laurel’s determined look in their classes, the more the mysterious woman seemed less like a stranger, and more like someone she knew. Crazy as that sounded.

---

Quentin had taken to keeping an ear out for crimes in the Glades. It both increased his blood pressure and soothed his nerves, because the amount of criminal activity coming out of there was unheard of. But so far, his daughter hadn’t been mixed up in any of it.

Statistically, he worried it wouldn’t last. But what could he do? He’d raised her to be fiercely independent, and his initial bad reaction when Laurel had perhaps been at her most vulnerable ensured she would never take his charity. He was lucky enough that she was still speaking to him, especially after he’d brought her mother over for a truly appalling attempt at reconnecting.

He still wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He couldn’t blame his estranged wife entirely for what had happened to Sara; it wasn’t as if she could have known what would happen out at sea. Bitterly, it occurred to him that by the same token, he couldn’t blame Queen then, either. Even if the man himself believed it, he hadn’t killed Quentin’s daughter.

Even more distressing, perhaps, was how much and how little Queen and Dinah had done to try and make amends with Laurel respectively. Where Queen had been nothing but repentant, Dinah had given excuses. She hadn’t even seemed to truly grasp what she had done wrong until Laurel had spelled it out to her.

She’d left a couple weeks ago, shaken and doubly discouraged when Laurel’s old friend at the Chinese embassy had confirmed the girl in the picture with the Rockets cap wasn’t their baby girl. Just another young woman who had bought a baseball cap on any ordinary day. He hadn’t given Laurel that news yet; he suspected she’d already guessed.

He picked up and then set aside the photo on his desk with his two girls. In some ways, he felt equally distant to them these days, though he knew he was kidding himself. The damage he’d done to his and Laurel’s relationship was entirely his own doing, not a random act of nature. He should stop wasting the time and make amends.

“Got a situation on 7th and Shane Street,” an officer announced to the bullpen, snapping Quentin out of his reverie. “Might need a couple detectives, cause we’ve got witnesses.”

Quentin stood. “I’ll go.” 7th and Shane was right in the heart of the Glades. He didn’t think it was all that far from that flower shop, come to think of it.

He drove over to find a bus pulled to the side of the road. It didn’t look to be damaged any. The driver and a few passengers stood around, the latter group all waiting for rides. A few men lay on the ground, welts on their faces and black eyes starting to turn into ugly bruises as they were cuffed by the officers. He ducked under the police tape and walked over to the group of witnesses.

“Alright, can anyone tell me how this whole thing started?”

“It was the hijackers,” a man near the back mumbled.

“The what?”

“The hijackers, man.” He was nudged by a woman at his left, probably a girlfriend or wife. She eyed the gun at Quentin’s belt warily. He carefully reached for a notepad and pencil to keep his hands occupied with that.

“And who are these hijackers?”

“They’ve been hitting the buses, usually on payday, sir,” the girlfriend spoke up. “Part of a newer gang.”

“Uh-huh. Was the SCPD informed of this?”

There were murmurings. Everyone too afraid to say yes. He frowned.

“How long ago did this start?”

“Little after the Bertinelli mob fell, sir.”

“It’s been horrible. They take everything you got. Money, jewelry, smartphones. We’re sitting ducks the whole route home!”

There were a bunch of voices shouting at him now, all wanting to be heard. One woman’s voice in particular stuck out amongst the group thanks to its heavy accent; an older woman in a housemaid’s uniform under her coat.

“They wanted my chotki,” she said, showing them all a black rope with many knots and beads in a few places, tied in a cross at the end. “It is wool and wood, what could they want with that? They were brutes. But she saved us.”

“She?” Quentin asked, stepping towards her. He thought he recognized this woman. Wasn’t she one of the Queens’ people?

Scarcely had he thought it before Oliver Queen himself came running up to the yellow tape. “Raisa!”

“Mr. Oliver!”

Just his luck. Quentin headed over as Queen lifted the tape to let Ms. Raisa out. “Just a minute,” he called.

Queen turned back to him. “Detective Lance, I came here to make sure Raisa got home safely. She’s been through enough for one night.”

“She’s not in trouble. I just need her to finish her statement. Now, who is ‘she’?”

Ms. Raisa shrugged. “No one really knows. They call her ‘the woman’.” She smiled warmly. “I believe tonight she was an angel.”

“Right,” he said.

“Was that everything, Detective Lance?” Queen asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, alright. Get her home.”

The two of them left, Queen leaning down to ask his housemaid a question Quentin couldn’t hear. He turned back to the group which was gradually starting to disperse. There were no useful additions other than someone saying a woman showed up a few minutes after the hijackers forced the bus to pull over.

The Hood. Now the Woman. Just great. Why had this city all of a sudden decided to go nuts?

He swung by Laurel’s place on his way back to the station and knocked. No one answered after a minute, but the light was on. He knocked again, louder.

“Just a second!” His daughter called out. She wrenched the door open in leggings and a blue tank top. “Dad! What are you doing here?”

“Can’t I visit my daughter?” His bravado covered his nerves, but relief was his primary emotion as she stepped back to let him inside.

“Were you on a call somewhere?”

“Yeah. There’s been some trouble with the bus routes. You don’t ride those often, do you?”

“Just to visit Joanna at her mom’s. Or to get downtown if I needed to.”

“Yeah, well stay off them at night, alright? There’s been gangs hitting them.”

“I know.”

That drew him up short. It occurred to him that these days, Laurel perhaps had an even more advance warning on crime in the Glades than he did. All the more reason to hate this arrangement.

He watched with narrowed eyes as she lowered herself onto her couch with a wince.

“What’s wrong with your back?”

She stiffened and winced again. “Oh, just work. I was lifting a lot of mulch bags today.”

Quentin shook his head. His poor girl had always had a willowy build. She was delicate, even if he’d made sure she knew how to defend herself in a tight spot. “You’re not meant for this kind of work, Laurel. We gotta find you something else.”

“This is doing me fine. Besides, I’m pretty sure to get law work, I’d have to leave Starling.”

“Shouldn’t have discouraged you from taking that corporate job in San Francisco,” he muttered.

“Well, I’m glad you did,” she told him. “I’m glad for the help I was able to give people at CNRI and for the help I can hopefully still give people here.”

He sighed. “Hopefully. You know, you can do anything you set your mind to, honey. I really do believe that. But what’s your plan here?”

She smiled. “I’m figuring it out, dad. I promise.”

He left soon after, since he was technically still on the clock at the precinct. Laurel told him she would head to bed shortly to rest up, and he made a note to grab some of those icy hot packs for her at the store. He thought he could play it off like an overdue Christmas present to get her to accept them. Hell, he owed her enough Christmases and birthdays from the last five years he could probably supply her through next March. If she was still breaking her back doing this work by then.

Laurel wasn’t the only one who needed a plan. Quentin had been keeping an eye on Daily in the close to two months since he’d been back on the force. There were no obvious slip ups, but he could just tell there was something off about the man. Call it his gut. Now with this bus hijacking situation having been swept under the rug for as long as it had been, he was starting to wonder just how many of his own people he could trust.

Was it genuine malice or just apathy for a neighborhood that saw enough hard times already? He wasn’t sure which was worse at the end of the day. But it was causing unrest, causing more and more people to turn to alternate means to seek justice.

By the end of the week, they saw an example of the worst of it; some guy in the subway tunnels committing extrajudicial killings and calling himself the Savior. The Hood had been forced to put him down to save the likes of that kid Harper. The Hood at least seemed to understand that vigilantes couldn’t be allowed free reign of this city, even if he continued to operate in it.

So he finally made the call.

Quentin stood out back behind his apartment building, the vigilante phone in his hand. He didn’t want to be anywhere near the precinct when he made this call. Just thinking about if someone caught him in the act — maybe Daily, maybe Hall with her earnest regard for the law — had his hands shaking.

“Detective?”

“Yeah, listen, we gotta talk. With everything going on in this city, with the force, I’m having trouble deciding who to trust. Now I don’t trust you,” he wanted to make clear. “But you’re a known quantity. I know what you want, what you’re willing to do.”

“And how does that help you?”

“It helps me because I think there’s some people on the force I can’t trust, and I don’t know what they want either.” Could be money, could be they felt threatened, could be they were always rotten. “Now I know you’ve figured out how to spy on us. I need you to tell me who’s on the take.”

“It’s not something I was concerning myself with.”

“Well start concerning yourself with it. You want people to stop popping up like this Savior or this Woman, it starts with law enforcement being a trusted and respected institution. You can’t tell me you expect things to magically stay better whenever you finally decide to hang that hood up?”

There was a long pause. “I’ll look into it, Detective. Keep the phone on you. I’ll call.”

Then the line went dead. Quentin breathed in and out once and headed back into his building. He hadn’t exactly done anything wrong. He’d simply pointed out an issue the Hood had likely been tangentially aware of and asked him to direct his attention towards it. Whatever happened after… well, maybe he was partly to blame.

Would Laurel ever call him a hypocrite if she found out about this or what?

#lauriver #laurel x oliver #laurel lance #oliver queen #arrow #green arrow #black canary #my writing #bird in a storm

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the-silly-hippy · 5 years ago

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Can you afford being healthy?

So let’s say my goal is to have optimal health, both physical and mental, what should I do? Off the top of my head I’m thinking gym, organic food, green smoothies, psychotherapy, social life, maybe supplements. All of which sound very expensive compared to staying at home watching TV and eating corndogs. So for a long time, I thought I couldn’t afford taking care of my health. But then I had to, so I got creative.

Health is an investment

The first thing to keep in mind is that taking care of your health now will save you money (and trouble) in the future. Being sick is expensive: medication, hospital bills, missing work, etc. I try to remember that every time time I want to go for McDonalds instead of.. anything else really.. to save a buck.

Time to hang out with friends

Taking care of your mental health also means having a social life and leisure. What do you need for that? Time. Why don’t you have enough time? Mostly because of work. Why do you have to work so much? Because life is so fucking expensive. So my logic is: if I need less things, and if I spend less on things I have to buy, that means more time for me. I’ll summarize this in two words: thrift stores and simplicity.

First, go for simplicity

Try to buy less stuff and when you want to buy, ask yourself if you really need it, that’s basic. To avoid feeling in a place of scarcity and lack, think of something you really do want, and make it your goal, your reward. So instead of thinking “I shouldn’t buy this, I don’t absolutely need it. That sucks, I can’t have anything nice

” You could shift that to: “If I don’t buy this dress that I probably wouldn’t wear much, it means I’m $45 closer my trip to Bali :D”. Consistently doing this keep you exited about your goal because, how often do we want to buy things we don’t really need? That’s right, you’ll have your reward in mind very often.

Simplicity in your products

I think that a good first step to take towards health is eliminate toxicity. To do that, what often makes sense is to simplify: go for foods that have the less ingredients, or that are totally unprocessed. Same goes for cosmetics. Look for products that only contain a few ingredients that you can recognize, or if you’re so inclined, you can even make them yourself, thus, saving more money. So, weather it goes on your body or in your body, a healthy and cost effective solution is to buy ingredients in bulk and start cooking.

Save on food and reduce food waste with apps

Get this: you install an app on your phone (Flashfood is one but I’m sure there are a couple others), and it shows you products that are close to expiration date that groceries near you are selling at a discounted price. I can’t stand seeing food go to waste, and my cheap ass just loves save 50%, so this concept really is pure gold for me. These apps allow me to have access to meat that I couldn’t normally afford, which allows me to pursue my quest for the best diet for my body (I used to be a vegan, I’m now on an API diet, what’s next?!). You can find vegetables, bakery, seafood, anything. I’d say I buy 80% of my groceries through these apps now. Buying in bulk and cooking? Well that is possible with the apps. Having a truck load of bell peppers will sure spark your creativity, as you have to use them before they go bad.

Freeze food

That brings us to the freezer. If you can get a second-hand freezer (I suppose some models consume less electricity, you might want to look for these), that might be the best investment you make this year. Because if you’re half as obsessed as I am about health and simplicity, there’s just not enough room in your standard freezer for all that healthy food you’ll buy at a 50% discount. See where this is going? Buy basic ingredients in bulk, cook huge batches, freeze portions. You saved time and money and you get to eat as healthy as you want to.

DIY your skin and hair products

You’re lucky there is a big trend on DIY products right now, so recipes are easy to find for pretty much everything you want to make. There are some ingredients that have multiple uses, like castille soap or baking soda for instance, so these are a good choice for a starter kit. I tried making solid shampoo and I must say it’s very satisfying to successfully wash your hair with a shampoo you made with your own two hands! And to know you’re not sending chemicals in the water, and in your scalp. And not buying another plastic bottle. And throwing it away when empty. The shampoo bar cost approximately $7 and will last for.. I dunno like ten million showers. I also make my own face serum with two ingredients: jojoba oil and tea tree. Speaking of oil (sweet almond in this case), it’s the best and cheapest makeup remover, period. I used to buy very expensive natural face care products but I was frustrated that there was no visible improvement of my skin. I wanted to test them on half my face for a couple months to demonstrate how ineffective they actually were but I never had the required discipline. If you don’t see noticeable improvement in your face after using a product for a while, stop buying that shit and just rub your face with oil. Because the one you’re buying probably contains mostly oil anyway and the rest of the fancy ingredients are probably in traces amount and completely useless. And don’t even get me started on the non-natural products. Ew.

Get rid of plastic

They say (the same “they” I always talk about when I don’t have sources) that if you store food in plastic containers of drink out of plastic bottles, plastic gets in your body and can cause health problems, hormone imbalance and whatnot. A good alternative are glass containers. The tupperware style with lids can be pricey if you buy them new, so the strategy here is: no stress, buy just a couple at a time when you find them at the salvation army and gradually eliminate the plastic ones. When I say eliminate I mean re-purpose or give to good will. As good hippies, let’s try to produce less waste! There’s also the very trendy mason jar, so practical to store food and – Pinterest shows us every day – anything you can think of.

Drink the best possible water

I’ve heard that tap water contains traces of birth control pills, antidepressants, antibiotics, etc. I don’t have the expertise to know if it’s true but it did scare me. I’m the kind of hippie that will avoid taking a small innocent ibuprofen if I can. I don’t want drugs in my body, unless it’s going to be fun and psychedelic. I certainly have a lack of scientific evidence about traces of drugs in the city’s water supply but my nose and taste buds tell me that chlorine isn’t something I should drink. There’s also fluoride in the water, that is arguably bad for you. These are the reasons I decided to stop drinking tap water. What are the alternatives? I had a Brita but it doesn’t eliminate much of the bad stuff. Plus, it’s made of plastic. The high quality water filters are just ridiculously expensive so my only option was to buy bottled water. Not small bottles, the big ones that are reused when you bring them back to the store. It felt weird to buy water when there’s plenty in the tap but, my god, does it taste better. And I’ve read it hydrates you better too. Hydration is a key component of health, that’s for sure, so if you can’t afford to buy water, still, drink a liter a day, you’ll be healthier than if you let yourself dry like a raisin. I hesitated to make that water bottle move for a bit because I thought I needed to buy a water dispenser, but it turns out I don’t need it at all. I just leave the bottle on the counter and I got used really quickly to flip that giant heavy thing. Now I can pour myself a shot glass of water without spilling a drop. No need to buy a machine. Also, it’s best to drink it at room temperature, and it’s empty within a week of two so I figure it doesn’t have time to grow bacteria, or algae or whatever happens to water when you let it sit.

Sleeping is free

We underestimate the role that sleep has to play in our health so we often neglect it, but a good sleep hygiene can make a huge difference in your energy level, I’ve experienced it. I was always tired, couldn’t get through the day without a nap, couldn’t concentrate, I was unable to get up in the morning. Then a doctor prescribed that I take melatonin every night at 6 pm for two weeks, go to bed at 10, wake up at 7 and blast a light therapy lamp in my face for half an hour every morning. I did that and guess what? It. Worked. I didn’t follow the exact hours he prescribed and I’m not sure the melatonin had a good effect on me so I only took it for a couple days. So I think what does the trick is consistently waking up at the same time each morning, regardless of what time you go to bed. Occasionally I get only four hours of sleep and usually the next day I’d be unable to function. Now that I wake up at regular hours, I can go through the day and have so much energy that I even forget I got only 4 hours of sleep. A phrase he said about staying in bed later to catch up on you sleep stuck with me: it’s too hard for the system. It had not occurred to me that it could be difficult for the body to change its sleep schedule. I thought “as long as I get 8 hours I’m fine” or even “the more sleep the better, I’ll sleep 12 hours today”. So if you happen to have sleep problems, irregular sleep pattern or fatigue, set an alarm and get some light in the morning, see what happens. Hopefully your body will adjust to the schedule and you won’t need the alarm after a week, and your mornings will be less painful. Another thing I didn’t take seriously was avoiding blue light in the evening. But it turns out it’s serious, it really does mess with your natural sleep hormones. So I installed f.lux on all my screens. It’s an app that will cut the blue light out of your screen according to the time of day. My screen is yellow right now because I’m too silly to go to bed at a normal time, I prefer to write a blog post. I used to binge watch TV on my computer very late in the night and not feel tired. I realized after installing the app that it was the blue light that was keeping me up. Now I watch an episode and start to yawn, so that’s a good thing, less TV.

Meditation is free

According to every damn article I read or podcast I listen to, meditation is one of the healthiest thing you can do. Good news: all you have to do is sit there and breathe. Now that, you can afford. No time? A minute a day is still better than nothing. If you need a little help to begin, there are tons of free apps you can install. I use Breathe and Calm, which also has some nice sleep stories.

Functional training

Exercising at home requires more discipline, at least in my experience, but if you can pull it off, it means more money in your pocket. You don’t necessarily need those machines to have an effective workout. The weight of your body will do. Remember those good old push ups? Yep. YouTube will help you find some exercises ideas for what part of your body you want to work out. Weights can be found easily at thrift stores. Elastic bands offer multiple possibilities and are not too expensive. Cardio is important too so if running outside isn’t an option, because breathing smog will annihilate any benefits of working out, for instance, maybe look for a stationary bike in the ads.

You can still party

Even if you’ve decided that for health reasons, alcohol, sugar and carbs are to avoid, you can still allow yourself to have them every once in a while. Just don’t binge, and limit the damage. For example, I drink on rare but meaningful occasions and I choose low sugar and gluten free drinks like vodka-soda or gin-soda. That’s the protecting my health part, now for the protecting my wallet. Go to the liquor store and find the best value alcohol. Not the will-make-you-go-blind kind of alcohol, because that’s not healthy. Usually a big-ass bottle of average quality vodka will be a good price to quantity ratio, and will give you an occasion to let go of what the cashier thinks of you as a person. Vodka is pretty much tasteless so that leaves you more drinks possibilities. (plus, you can DIY perfume using vodka: avoiding chemicals on your skin and saving $200, yay)! Sugar in food now. It’s always best to choose natural sugars like honey, instead or refined sugar, or use stevia. Man, stevia is the best: it tastes like sugar, but it’s not. It’ll make your food taste sweet and do zero damage. Buy in a giant bottle to save money. Hell, you could even grow your own stevia plant! Let’s go crazy! You can also pour a drop in your vodka. Now that’s starting to look like a party to me! The use of the word honey and saving money just made me think of a fine browser extension you can use for online shopping. It’s called Honey and it can notify you when a product you watch goes on sale. It can also find and apply coupon codes for you. Here’s the only referral link in this article: my link to Honey. So, where were we. Sugar. When I stopped eating sugar, I bought dark unsweetened chocolat in bulk, thinking it would taste like dark 70% chocolate. Oh, was I wrong. It tastes bitter. That’s the only thing you’ll taste in sugar free dark chocolate. But it’s cheap to buy in bulk and I can control what goes into it, so from time to time I like to melt some in a pan, add stevia and eat that with bananas.

Let’s talk! What are your secrets to stay healthy and how do you afford it?

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thatshankcallednewt · 6 years ago

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Newt: Alternate Universe - Spilt Milk

Prompt: You and Newt are soulmates; the soulmate universe where soulmates receive the same injuries as each other.

requested by anonymous

I’ve never heard of this soulmate AU before, so I gave it my best shot. Kept it fluffy (because I’m sick of writing angst), I hope you enjoy reading, and that it follows the AU as much as possible as I was a little unsure by what “injury soulmate au” actually meant! :P

You sat down on the edge of your bed and sighed audibly, your chest rose and fell dramatically as it expelled. It had been a serious week of moving in and organizing the place, so much so that you had forgotten what it felt like to just sit down and breathe calmly.

But it was a good week, nonetheless. It was good to finally have your own space, completely yours.

You let the late afternoon sunshine warm your cheeks as it spilled through the new, soft transparent-white curtains you hung over your bedroom window last night, and you thought about the rest of your day. You wanted to buy a couple of extra mugs for guests and some new bath towels and an indoor drying rack for your washing when the weather becomes gloomy. You figured you would just spend a quiet afternoon looking through some thrift stores and homeware shops near your apartment building, so you grabbed your things up and shoved it all quickly into your bag before locking your front door shut.

When you twisted the keys in the lock and checked that the doorknob wouldn’t twist open, you spun in the direction of the stairs but instead saw your neighbor walking onto your level. You’ve met him a few times now, it was usually a small smile and a nod. The first time you met, you spilled a carton of milk all over the hall. Fortunately, there wasn’t a carpeted rug over the flooring, but it was still quite the mess; you were grateful for his help in cleaning it up despite being such a klutz. You were an immediate sucker for his chocolate brown eyes and golden hair, but what did it was the playful accent, especially when he called out to you in passing.

You started down the hallway and caught eyes with Newt as he neared his own front door. He had his backpack slung over one shoulder and was wearing a blue sweater, he must have been to one of his classes during the morning. He’s mentioned to you before about his study.

He smiled at you, “Y/N, how are ya?”

You smiled back warmly, “Great, what about yourself?”

He nodded, “Great, yeah, great,” he paused and noticed your bag, “headed out?”

“Last minute shopping. I keep thinking of all the random pieces of furniture or homewares I need that I didn’t realize I would need before moving in.”

“Ah yes, I’ve been there. You got enough towels?”

You grinned sheepishly at him, “On my list.”

“Make sure to buy extra soft, may be a little pricier but definitely worth it, otherwise it’ll just be uncomfortably rough within six months.”

You laughed at his advice and shook your head a little, “You got anymore tips for me?”

He thought for a moment, you watched his amused eyes, “Yeah, don’t buy a carton of milk and drop it in the hallway.”

You both laughed at the memory and you shook your head at him again, “I promise it was an accident.”

“I don’t know,” he started suspiciously, “maybe you were trying to distract me so you could scope my place out before you rob me and take off in the middle of the night.”

“Oh, yeah,” you said, “that’s exactly what I was doing.”

He smiled again, and your heart warmed. “Seriously though,” he started again, “how did you manage it?”

You sighed and glanced at the floor before looking back up at him again, “Honestly, I don’t know, I’m usually a little bit un-co but that day my leg kept aching and I think I stepped wrong or something.”

He frowned at this, “Your leg hurt?”

“Yeah,” you held it out now before you, “it’s okay now though. I think it’s nothing, but it’s been like that for a while, I went to the doctor about it and she said that there wasn’t anything wrong with it. It’s just on and off, I guess.”

Newt stared down at your leg in silence, he blinked, and then he found your eyes again, “Yeah… it’s probably nothing.”

You both said your goodbyes as Newt mentioned he had an essay due soon, so you let him get back to studying while you took off for the bunch of stores near your street. You found some nice décor pieces at the thrift stores for cheap prices, so you indulged yourself in that but as you went into the homeware store you were overwhelmed. There were so many items you been eyeing off online but pushed yourself not to buy that it was now harder than ever to stop yourself.

You found the towels and decided on some warm tones and also took Newt’s advice on buying extra soft ones, they did feel nice against your skin.

When you got to the mugs section though, you were floored at all the possible designs you could choose from. You weren’t sure if you should go quirky or colorful, or even comical; you never before realized how much of a task mug-choosing could be. You probably stood there in the aisle for ten minutes straight, just staring at all your options.

Then you finally picked out one, it was a comical one, you could never say no to a cute little pun on a coffee mug, but the satisfaction of making a decision was short-lived as you fumbled with the mug and watched it clatter to the floor; cracking apart.

You stared at the mug and could feel panic rising. You bent down to pick up the broken pieces, you didn’t want anyone to injure themselves while you went and found an employer that could help, but as you picked up the pieces in your panicked state, you sliced your finger open.

“Ouch!” you cried and lifted the finger to inspect it. It was bleeding, definitely bleeding, the blood began running down the side of your finger, but from what you could see after wiping it up with tissues, it didn’t look too deep.

Finally, an employer came to your aid and found a first-aid kit. With heated cheeks you let him ask what happened and give you a Band-Aid, and then you paid for the broken mug (as well as the new ones you selected out afterwards). You hated that you embarrassed yourself so, you kept thinking how you wouldn’t be able to show your face there ever again.

You were busy still thinking hard about the incident when you stumbled up the stairs to your apartment. You were just thinking how you could have made a run for it, and they never would’ve known, when Newt’s apartment door swung open beside you.

You froze in place and looked at the blond boy as he held his hand up, his finger spurting blood. You stared hard at his hand and then your eyes widened.

“I don’t have any bloody Band-Aids,” he said, his frown tight and his eyebrows furrowed from the pain.

“Your finger…” you said, and then you realized he needed your help, so you quickly unlocked your apartment door and he followed you into the bathroom. You opened up the mirror’s storage doors and searched for your small box of first-aid equipment.

You pulled out a Band-Aid and, after cleaning the wound on his finger, you wrapped it up carefully, hyper-aware of every touch. You felt the blush back on your cheeks and you hoped he didn’t notice.

“So, you have plenty of extra soft towels but no Band-Aids, huh?” you questioned, jokingly.

He smiled at this, “Well, if you weren’t such a klutz, I wouldn’t bloody need them.”

You pulled your hands away from him and stared up at him, you weren’t sure if you had heard him correctly. In fact, you were sure you hadn’t.

“You don’t know?” he said, his brown eyes amused. He pointed to his leg, “My limp, your leg pains? It’s the same bloody leg.”

“But—”

He eyed your injured finger before continuing, “I didn’t slice my finger open, I was nowhere near anything that would. I was just typing away on my laptop, minding my own business. Essays are hard and painful but not that kind of painful,” he laughed at his joke and you couldn’t believe what he was getting at, you just couldn’t. “And what about this?” he continued as held up his other arm where a big, fat purple bruise swelled his skin.

You twisted your arm to look at where the bruise was, you remembered that you were vacuuming and tripped over the cord, you looked back to him and saw him half-grinning.

He sighed, “I saw that one first, on your arm, in the hallway once when I was on my way out and you were going home. I... I was sure I was just imagining things but... it all made sense after a while.”

You were lost for words entirely, the whole soulmate thing, you believed it of course, your own parents found each other after your mom broke her wrist roller-skating. They went to the hospital at the same time and saw each other in the waiting room, for the same injury, except Dad was only watching TV when it happened.

But you never even thought about it, not consistently anyway, meeting your soulmate was something you just figured would happen later, a lot later.

“Have you always been this much of a klutz? ‘Coz I’ve been through the bloody wars, especially this week,” he couldn’t keep his smile off his face, “and when we met and you spilled that milk all over the corridor…” he laughed softly, and licked his lips nervously, “I guess I thought about how clumsy my soulmate must be and I kinda hoped it was you. Spilt milk is pretty romantic, right?” he paused, “Makes a good story to tell.”

“I…” you said, but your sentence trailed off. “I can’t believe…” You shook your head and laughed, finally, and it put Newt at ease when he realized you weren’t in complete shock-horror at the thought of him being your soulmate. “God, I must have drove you crazy…”

“A lot of injuries, sometimes I thought you might kill me before we ever even got the chance to meet but… I guess I always thought that at least you would be a pretty interesting person. Not any normal person gets into that many accidents on the daily.”

“I’m sorry about that…” you said sheepishly, suddenly embarrassed all over again.

He smiled brightly at you, his brown eyes flashed, “No need to be, I can take it. Besides, you have to put up with that bloody pain in your leg all the time.”

You shrugged, “I’m used to it, it would be weird not having it around.”

He smiled at that, and in that moment, it suddenly dawned on the both of you that your soulmate, your soulmate, was right there in front of you.

Newt nervously put his hand through his hair, he glanced down at your bathroom tiles momentarily before his eyes found yours again, “M-maybe we should get coffee some time?”

You laughed at him, a big, hearty laugh that rose from your stomach, and you tried to stop yourself by shoving your hand over your mouth, but his surprised face only made it harder.

At first, he didn’t know how to react, but your laugh was contagious to him, your smile was everything, and he couldn’t help but laugh with you.

#thatshankcallednewtimagine #tmr newt #newt imagine #tmr imagine #newt #newt x reader #one shot #newt/reader #tmr #tst #tdc

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