#the moment you see the lightbulb go off in tommy's head and he's getting ready to kiss him stupid. i love <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[sophsun1]

9-1-1 – 7.04: Buck, Bothered and Bewildered

[stuff-from-the-void-matron]

Laurel Wreaths & Animal Teeth (10)

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(technoblade x fem!reader)

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(a/n: y’all seemed to like chapter 9 so here’s chapter 10! I know, I know. still no technoblade! BUT! he WILL be arriving soon~ very soon. >:3c but for now just enjoy the rest of the utter nonsense that’s the election. and remember! reblogs and comments REALLY make writing the next chapter possible. if y’all lose interest then so will I. so reblog and comment y’all! <3)

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There was an eerie silence hanging over everyone in attendance. Nobody quite knew what to say, or even how to react to this startling new information. Not a soul spoke as a few people on stage and in the audience shared confused glances, not even whispering their questions to each other lest they shatter the heavy stillness. At least that was the case before HBomb hopped up out of his chair and gave a loud and cheerful “WHOO! NEW PRESIDENT!” that successfully slam dunked everyone back into the moment at hand. 

Suddenly you were surrounded by noise as everyone started talking at once. 

Meanwhile you remained mostly unaware of it, well more like distantly aware of it.

You stared up at the stage, locked in place from how floored you still were.

What in the absolute hell was Wilbur talking about?? 

You can’t have won! Because you weren’t running! 

So there’s no way for you to WIN something you were never actively competing for! 

There had to be a mistake. Maybe this was just some more of their silly pranks and japes before they read off the real winner, which actually wasn’t that huge of a stretch for this SMP if you were being honest. Or at least that’s what you were telling yourself anyways. Vaguely you could hear voices talking all around you, but it seemed far away, so you weren’t really registering what was being said. You were mostly just staring blankly at the stage, not really seeing any of the people up there as you tried to process what just happened.

It took Tubbo grabbing your elbow and shaking it to snap you out of the almost trance like state you'd slipped into. You looked down and he actually looked excited, but you could also see shock in his expression as well. You looked behind you to the rest of the crowd and some were clapping and cheering while others stood silent, shocked like you if you had to hazard a guess. You looked back up at the stage when you heard Tommy calling you to come up with them. You were still sorta frozen but thankfully Tubbo nudged you forward, reminding you that you needed to move. Silently you made your way up to the podium, mouth feeling dry and stomach feeling like it was full of stones.

Now that you were zoned back in you could hear the arguing coming from the podium. You were sort of dreading coming face to face with Wilbur, already knowing how… not great he took Schlatt winning from the original timeline. And he apparently knew and was friends with the ram hybrid. So you couldn’t see him being happy you won.. But when you got to the stage where the others were you couldn’t focus on Wilbur because all at once your vision was overtaken by Tommy, who was babbling about how you won! And how the hell did you win?? You weren’t even running! And how he’s pretty down they lost but at least Quackity and George didn’t win! (that got a ‘fuck you!’ out of the Spanish speaking young man) You gave a weak chuckle and said you’re not sure how or why you won but it was crazy indeed. 

Quackity, Schlatt, and George were the most vocal about not thinking the results were fair. Though to be clear, Wilbur didn’t look thrilled either, but he was doing his best to look professional or put together you guessed. Or at least not blow up in front of literally everyone. You kept an eye on him while Tommy led you up to the mic and told you to give your first decree as president. But you sorta… didn’t want to be president. You hoped you wouldn’t upset anyone by not accepting the job. But you didn’t think you’d make a good leader. So you turned away from the mic, hoping nobody but the ones beside you on stage would hear when you asked if you had to accept the role. 

This caught all the mens’ attention and Wilbur was quick to give you an out, saying no you didn’t technically HAVE to accept the presidency. In fact if you weren’t ready or willing to fill the role then the runners up, aka him and Tommy, would happily do so for you. But then Quackity, Schlatt, and surprisingly Fundy said that wasn’t fair either since both Pog2020 and Schlatt/Swag2020 were tied with the amount of votes. And you had to admit, that didn’t seem fair. But Wilbur perked up and you’d swear in that moment he was the embodiment of the ‘lightbulb above head’ phrase. Then he grinned and turned to Fundy and Niki and asked to speak to them before urging them and Tommy off the stage, leaving you and Schlatt/Swag2020 on the stage alone.

Not wanting to leave everyone in the audience hanging, you gave a polite smile and assured them that the others just wanted to…. recount the votes! They weren’t sure Wilbur counted them right so they figured recounting with some other witnesses there would clear things up! The crowd shared confused glances but it was Tubbo who yelled out that that sounded sus as hell! And if he were you he’d think they were trying to cheat or something! You snorted a laugh but assured him it was alright and you didn’t think they’d be that ballsy~

-0-

Fundy and Niki followed behind Wilbur and Tommy, the latter of the two males just as confused about what Wilbur was up to as the pair behind him. But then they all gathered in the white house and Wilbur turned to the members of Coconut2020 and said he had a proposition for them! The brunet said that since it was clear that you weren’t really up to being president, his tone derisive like your refusal of the position was tantamount to spitting in his food, then if Fundy and Niki agreed to combine their votes with Swag2020 then Wilbur could be president again and things could go back to normal!

But the blonde woman and fox hybrid didn’t look convinced.. Niki said they’d just be giving them their votes so they could win, while they got nothing? Fundy frowned and asked what positions he and Niki would have in the Pog2020 cabinet if they joined their votes with theirs. Here is where Wilbur hesitated, unsure what positions he could give them. But then he smiled and said Niki would be the First Woman, since she was the first woman to join L’manberg! And Fundy would of course be everyone’s Little Champion! He couldn’t help but baby talk his son, he’d never been able to take Fundy seriously, not really anyways. What with his alert little triangle ears, furry face, soft little paw beans, and fluffy tail. He was just too cute for Wilbur to take him seriously. Even now. But it was this attitude that would be his downfall. Because it’s what caused Fundy to snap.

“No, Wilbur! This is serious! I’m not some baby for you to dress up and prance around! I’m a fucking adult! I have my own house, I pay taxes, I fought in a war for fucks sake!” the hybrid shouted, clearly upset.

Wilbur was shocked but tried to calm Fundy down, not fully realizing how mad his son was until the red haired male practically snarled, 

“I’m not going to sit here and hand over the votes Niki and I earned just so you can treat me like a child!”

Without another word he turned on his heel and stormed out of the white house, leaving three stunned people behind. Tommy looked up at Wilbur, opening and closing his mouth, wanting so badly to say something, maybe lighten the awkward mood but not knowing what or even if he should speak at all. Meanwhile Niki just sighed and gave Wilbur a soft disappointed look. She knew Wilbur loved his son, and that often translated to him babying the hybrid. But she’d warned him, as kindly as she could, that it seemed to upset Fundy that his own father wouldn’t treat him like anything but a kid. She’s not a parent herself, so she figures it must be hard for a parent to see their child as anything but a child, even after they’ve grown. 

But she can see Fundy’s side too. It must be massively frustrating to be looked upon like you’re just a kid. Especially since Wilbur doesn’t even treat Tommy, his own younger brother, as a child as much as he does Fundy. And she’d seen first hand how Wilbur’s attitude towards Fundy, whether or not the brunet intended for it to happen or not, did in fact influence how others treated the red furred hybrid. She’d seen Tommy, Tubbo, Eret, Sapnap, and even herself a couple times sort of not treat Fundy with the respect you’d show to a fellow adult. She tried her best to kick that habit, and her and Fundy’s friendship had really blossomed thanks to it, she thinks. But she believes Wilbur just pushed his son to his breaking point…

“He’s right, Wilbur. You can’t keep babying him. He’s a grown up now..” Niki said neutrally.

Then she let out a tired sounding breath of air and turned to follow after the fox hybrid, saying she would go check on him. But she also said Wilbur needed to talk to him later, man to man, and make things right. Said brunet looked rather flummoxed, not sure what the hell just happened. It was Tommy who broke the silence by giving an almost weak sounding ‘holy shit’. Wilbur turned his perplexed gaze to his brother and asked what the HELL that was all about! Said blond winced and gave a sigh while awkwardly scratching the back of his head, not thrilled with the weird turn this conversation took, but answered Wilbur,

“Ehh… looks like you and Fundy have some unresolved personal issues, bud..”

Wilbur barked that this wasn’t the time for Fundy to let some personal vendetta against him cloud his reasoning! They were in the middle of the do or die of the election! If they couldn’t get Fundy and Niki to agree to join their votes with theirs then they won’t win! And they’ll be in a tie with Schlatt and Quackity! Wilbur jerked his hands down, like he wanted to slam them against a table or something. But instead he just viciously scrubbed his fingers through his curly hair, feeling embittered with everyone around him. All he’d wanted was to lead HIS country! Like he rightfully should have been able to! All this election bollocks and now he was having to try and convince HIS OWN SON to help him stay president?! If it were him and Phil needed help he’d give it! Well he would if Phil were ever fucking around..

The sound of a crowd cheering caused the two to whip their heads towards the area where the stage was before they looked at each other. Not a word was spoken between them as they both took off in a run towards the stage, wondering what happened and what they were missing. They rounded the corner of the building to the left of the stage to see you smiling and waving daintily to the crowd. Not sure what they’d missed, Wilbur rushed up to Niki and asked what happened. Did you accept the presidency already?? 

Niki raised an eyebrow at her friend and nodded, saying you’d finally relented and accepted the role as president after she and Fundy came back from ‘recounting the votes’. Niki hummed and said she figured that you finally accepted the results after it was made clear that if you didn’t then everything would be stuck in a tie. But then Niki’s reflecting mood brightened and she said she really thought you’d do a good job as the new president. Even joking that you had to be better than Schlatt. 

Niki never voiced it out loud but she’d been worried Schlatt and Quackity would win. Schlatt was the biggest worry for her. To his credit, he was actually a really funny guy and she could see why Wilbur was friends with him, they just had a good chemistry and their senses of humor bounced off each other well. But… Schlatt could also be blatantly power hungry and hateful if not kept in check from the few times she’d met him or heard stories about him from Wilbur. Niki felt like giving him the amount of authority that came with being president would only end poorly. And Quackity was an alright guy in her opinion but he could be vindictive and petty too. She got the vibe that any amount of power given to him would instantly go to his head and turn him into a jerk.

But again, these were just her personal (and not spoken aloud) opinions…

She always hated being mean to people and saying hurtful things. So she kept her opinions to herself more often than not. Unless it was super important anyways. So instead of elaborating on Why she was so relieved that Schlatt and Quackity hadn’t won she instead flashed the two members of Pog2020 a smile and said it had been a fun race, and despite all the drama she really thinks Tommy’s friend will do a good job. Then with a keen raise of her eyebrows the blonde suggested with a cute smile,

“Oh, maybe you could be a member of Reader’s Cabinet! I’m sure she’ll be needing a vice president, secretary of defense, treasury, and other positions!”

Niki was honestly just trying to cheer up her friend, but the cheerful smile slipped off her face at the dark look that crossed Wilbur’s. She grew concerned when she saw how hard he was clenching his fists and gritting his teeth. His behavior over the last few weeks had been slowly worrying her, but this was starting to make her anxious. And when he started marching towards the stage she shot a panicked look to Tommy, who could do nothing but give her an equally worried and confused face before they both tried to hurry after their brown haired friend. But he got up onto the stage before either of them could grab his arm, and Niki was about to call after him but he reached your side, clearing his throat and alerting you to his presence. 

You looked down and saw him standing at attention next to you, hand outstretched for a handshake and a polite but serious smile on his face. You were surprised, thinking he was handling this with more grace than you’d expected, but a feeling deep in your gut was still on edge. You knew the destruction Wilbur Soot was all too willing and capable of doing in the selfish pursuit of keeping power over the country he made. The lives of his friends and family be damned. So while you really really wanted to hope that Wilbur will be better since you won over the other parties… you’re also highly skeptical that he will manage to keep his sanity. 

But instead of showing any of your reservations you instead simply smile and shake his hand, thanking him for congratulating your win and promising him you’ll do your best with the presidency and taking care of L’manberg. And if you noticed how his smile looked a little too angry at the edges then you didn’t say anything..

So instead of dealing with the mess that was Wilbur Soot you focused on the crowd and let go of Wilbur’s hand to stand at the sort of comically short podium and spoke out to the people you were now responsible for,

“Well, this all was certainly unexpected..”

Chuckles erupted from the crowd at that, making you feel a bit better about all of this. At least you weren’t the only one to see how wild all of this mess was.

“I’m actually really shocked! I wasn’t intending to run for president but I suppose life has other plans for me. But regardless, I’m honored you’ve all put your faith in me to lead you. I swear to do my absolute best for you and help L’manberg flourish.”

Applause from the crowd made you give a genuine smile. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad?

-0-

In the audience, watching this all unfold behind a mask and tapping his foot, stood the familiar looking figure in a green hood. Hanging around next to him was Sapnap in all his black and white dressed glory. And at some point George had gotten bored with the drama on stage and had left Quackity’s side (not that the duck hybrid had even noticed or cared) and wandered over to stand with his two friends. They watched Wilbur hand over the presidency to you and George made an off hand comment that Wilbur sure didn’t look pleased with losing, a smug laugh in his sleepy tone. Sapnap snickered but stared at you and elbowed his taller friend, asking in a curious tone while subtly gesturing to you,

“Speaking of, why didn’t you tell us you’d let someone new on the server, Dream?”

His friend glanced at him for a second longer than normal before replying with a tense tone to his voice that he hadn’t let her on. That caused both Sapnap and George to jerk their heads up to look at him in visible confusion. While George stammered through a series of ‘what’s’ and ‘wait hold on-’ Sapnap was loudly questioning what the hell he meant. The mask wearing player shushed them both before looking up to see if anyone had heard them or looked over at the twos’ loud exclamations. Thankfully nobody had. So he sighed and led them a bit further away from the crowd and explained that he’d not authorized any new members to the server. and it was true, he hadn’t. But both hybrids still looked confused and George asked, clearly puzzled,

“Well then how did she get on the server?? Nobody else can let people on, right, Dream?”

Sapnap nodded but stopped when their taller friend let out a flat hum before shaking his head ‘no’. That caught the shorter twos’ attention so he elaborated by asking them,

“Who on this server is known to have Creative Mode?”

The two blinked before it dawned on them and they looked even more shocked than before, only now it was coupled with anxiousness. Sapnap harshly whispered to the two, asking why the hell fucking GOD himself would actually let someone onto the server?? DreamXD never bothered with players and stuff, only being rumored to be seen by players if they broke server rules. George added on that this all sounded really weird. And an idea hit him and he couldn’t help but voice it. 

“You don’t think… she’s linked to DreamXD.. do you? Like working for him or something?” he asked a touch nervously.

The other two didn’t say anything, not really knowing what to say to that. Sapnap could only shrug while the tallest of their group remained silent, none of them having any answers to the string of questions they’d just let loose.

They would just have to wait and see it seemed.

-0-

@lady-bee-fechin @kacchasu @putridjoy @lunawritesstories @galaxypankitty3030 @paradigmax @zachariethememerie @killmewithafanfic @trinity-1002107 @hufflepuff-demigod @truthdaze @exorcisms-with-elmo @redbloodtea @heythereimhaylz @olyink @jackalopedoodles @nikkineeky @artsimatsu @hufflepuff-demigod @corpiet @beepa99 @anxiousnarwhale @bananaaddictmilkshake @realitycanbeajerk @lostandsouciant @thegeekisheere @sparkling-gayyy

[obscure-sentimentalist]

flommy, “I have pillows, blankets, supreme comfort, and all that’s missing is you.”

[So this one’s been nagging at me for probably about a year now? It had been sitting half-started for ages, as I never really knew how to carry out the idea I had, but I did my best in coming back to it now. Bit lighter on the Flommy interactions this time, but in exchange we get Tommy and Thea siblingness and some Tommy thoughts.]

From the Comforting Cuddles starters list

“What do you think about ‘I have pillows, blankets, supreme comfort, and all that’s missing is you’?”

“Do you need me to take you to the ER?” Thea deadpans from her perch on the cushioned window seat in Tommy’s room of the hotel suite without looking up from her phone. “Because it sounds like you got one of those Hallmark cards from the airport gift shop lodged in your throat.”

Tommy slowly lowers his own phone and rolls his head towards his sister, expression settling into one of loving annoyance. “What I’m getting out of that is that I have a future in the greeting card industry.”

“The future you should be more concerned about is the one where I spin-kick you in the head before the emotional trauma of hearing my brother workshopping romantic texts to his girlfriend sets in.”

“Hey, I’m keeping it perfectly PG,” Tommy defends, pointing at Thea with his free hand for emphasis.

That finally gets her to set her phone aside and swivel in her seat to face Tommy, giving him a striking, raised-eyebrow look. “I think the subject matter automatically makes it PG-13.”

“It’s a hotel bed!” Any exasperation behind the words trips right out of the gate, stumbling into nervous laughter.

Thea just continues to stare, swinging her legs back-and-forth unevenly as her feet dangle above the floor.

“That’s… achieved the perfect ratio of softness to firmness for an excellent night’s sleep?” Tommy can feel his ears reddening as they disappear into his shoulders. “Also, those pillows. Heavenly. Remind me to check with management to find out who the supplier is, I’m going to place a personal bulk order once we get back to Starling.”

“Right,” Thea says slowly, legs finally stilling. “So the high-quality comfiness is the thing worth writing home about. No other reason why you’d express missing having a plus-one to enjoy it.”

Had his mouth not dropped open with a scandalized pop instead, Tommy might have swallowed his tongue. “Thea Dearden Queen, you’re going to stop right there before I also ask about the hotel’s highest-strength cleaning supplies and if they can be applied directly to my brain.”

“You asked for critique,” Thea reminds him, but backs off by raising her hands sarcastically in surrender. “Just pointing out insinuations you may or may not have intended. You’re welcome.”

Chagrined by both the acknowledgement that he’d asked for help and his sister’s frankness in delivering said feedback, Tommy turns his attention back to the blinking cursor in the half-filled message box. The wittiness of the greeting has dulled significantly since the lightbulb first flicked on, even without the suggestive commentary. It’s a grim admission that spurs Tommy’s thumb to find the delete key and hold, consuming the carefully-crafted words before his eyes until he’s greeted once again by blank space.

The fact that Thea’s sigh is louder than his own is what pries Tommy away from his seemingly insurmountable task with his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“You really haven’t done this sort of thing before, have you?” Thea asks, waving a hand vaguely at the room as she sinks back against the window. “The out-of-town business trip.”

Admitting defeat (at least for the moment), Tommy tosses the phone onto the bed and crosses his arms, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I mean, if my business was pleasure...”

“So no, then,” Thea cuts in with a fond eye-roll. Her face goes soft a moment later, though, and she glances back at Tommy with a strange sort of knowingness. “Which means you especially haven’t done it when you’ve been in an actual relationship.”

Tommy offers up an entirely sheepish look. “I think that’s a given.”

Thea makes a little shrug-like expression with her lips, conceding that point. She pulls one foot up to rest on the cushion and hugs her knee to her chest, before giving Tommy another gently pointed stare. “It’s okay, you know.”

“Hmm?” Tommy rocks back on his heels as he lets the questioning hum slip, and rolls his lips under for a façade of innocence. These last few exchanges have been drawing them dangerously close to vulnerable topics—it’s still Tommy’s carefully-wired reflex to either clown about it or just play dumb.

Too bad Thea knows those moves when she sees them, and her narrowed eyes suggest that she’s still considering the earlier threat of a spin-kick in the head.

“It’s okay to miss her,” she says, stripping Tommy’s anxieties bare with a single statement.

For a split second, he thinks he might have preferred stewing in the awkward surrounding the Bed Text for just a bit longer. Incidental innuendoes are familiar territory, even if being called out for them by his younger sister adds a new layer of humiliation.

The notion doesn’t linger, though, but it’s due less to the embarrassment than it is to his brain bouncing from point to point like a pinball machine from hell. The mortification just ricochets back to the almost-slip in question, and—true to pattern as of late—propels his thoughts to a flare of fondness and Felicity. The thing that makes Tommy want to bury his face in one of the pillows that started it all, though, is the fact that the ball rebounds again to the current conversation, seemingly inescapable.

“It’s not weird?” The question comes hesitantly as he uncrosses his arms, immediately bringing one hand to rub the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s only two nights, and one already down—we’re back by tomorrow afternoon, no time at all. I feel like it’s too much, just me being unreasonably clingy.”

Experience seems to back up that impression, after all. Two years, five, more have created gulfs between Tommy and his loved ones, and even then, his longing and loneliness came off as exaggerated and one-sided.

But maybe that’s not entirely fair, he immediately scrambles to note. Oliver was working through his own problems at the time (in questionably-at-best healthy ways), caught up in a different storm of emotion and trauma that instinctively repelled Tommy—familiar magnets flipped to the same pole for the very first time. Perhaps it took more time and effort than either of them could have expected, and still never returned them to where they left off, but they did manage to establish a balance better suited to who they are now.

(Even Tommy’s being in this hotel room—as one of three co-owners of Verdant, joining Thea in exploring options for expanding the club outside of Starling—is evidence enough of that reconciliation and understanding.)

As for his father’s absence and return…

Well, any expression of emotion comes off as an overreaction when compared to Malcolm, and should not be counted.

Almost as if she senses Tommy’s once-solid evidence crumbling to dust, Thea pushes off the window seat, landing gracefully on her feet. “You’re overthinking this, especially with the texts. Just call her, all right? We don’t need to head out for at least another hour, so there’s plenty of time.”

Still lagging a little bit from trying to detangle his anxieties, Tommy nods absently in agreement as his eyes follow Thea’s movements towards the door. When she crosses the threshold to head back into the suite’s living area, though, his brain finally catches up. “Hey! How is it that you’re the one giving me relationship advice?”

Thea grips the doorframe and leans her full body back into the room, one eyebrow arched as she tilts her head to look at him.

“I mean, isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? You know, older brother’s prerogative and all?” Tommy defends weakly, wilting under the sharp stare.

“Seeing as I ended up with emotionally-constipated brothers on both sides, I think that privilege has been revoked,” Thea declares, smoothly propelling herself back upright and reaching for the doorknob. She pulls it behind her as she finally departs, but not before shooting Tommy a cheeky, “I’ll give you some privacy to relay the magical properties of a hotel bed.”

Tommy imagines his immediate response is the sound an ostrich would make if strangled. “Okay, look…”

The door closes firmly before he can get any more words out, but not fast enough that he doesn’t catch Thea’s laughter.

“Brat,” Tommy mutters affectionately under his breath, before teetering backwards to flop down on said bed. The impact bounces his phone an inch or two above the comforter, only to land face-down right next to his hip.

Tommy’s breath catches in his chest as his attention is drawn again to the device, a mere hand-twitch within reach. Hardly any effort at all to pick up, and selecting Felicity’s name from his recent call log to re-dial is no more complex a step. But his hand seems to be declining all calls from his brain, remaining unmoving at his side without even an itch in the fingertips.

He’s overreacting—he has to be, and for real this time. It’s been barely a day since his standard morning protest of Felicity’s alarm (involving an exaggerated yawn and an arm stretched across her stomach to secure her in place for just a bit longer) was met with a laugh and a set of ice-cold toes pressed to his shins in retaliation. Barely a day since Tommy lumbered past the bathroom door on his way to the kitchen and couldn’t (wouldn’t) fight the grin that bloomed upon overhearing Felicity’s murmur-singing of some earworm while getting ready. Barely a day since she’d swept into the kitchen, all color and curls, to accept the travel mug of coffee from Tommy’s hands in exchange for a soft, lingering kiss and wishes for a safe flight.

A one-day break from routine—one that’s still a few months fresh, at that—and certain comfort shouldn’t be this jarring, should it?

After all, it’s not like they’ve been completely out of contact for the last 24 hours. Tommy had passed along travel updates (and a couple pictures taken mid-flight of Thea, tuned out with her neck pillow, eye mask, and earbuds); in turn, Felicity had relayed the shift between her day and night jobs, and confirmed her safe return home following the latter. There may temporarily be a few hundred miles of physical distance between them, but Felicity is still firmly here in Tommy’s life.

And yet, he can’t help but linger on the memory of waking this morning: rolling onto his stomach and reaching across the bed, only for his arm to land flat atop a mattress completely devoid of another body’s warmth. How the confusion and pinprick of hurt struck faster than the recognition that said bed wasn’t his own and why, and the clarity only served to transform it into a yearning ache. Even brushing his teeth was a more solemn affair, with Tommy still half-listening for Felicity puttering around and starting her day.

Maybe Thea… has a point.

Before Tommy can tend to the gentle bruise to his ego from admitting his younger sister has relationship wisdom where he does not, his phone buzzes with an incoming call. Synapses finally firing as they should, his hand wraps around the device and lifts it to his face to glance at the screen.

His fingers nearly fumble and drop the phone directly onto his face when he sees Felicity’s contact photo (one he’d surreptitiously taken shortly after they’d moved in together, when he’d caught her pleasantly lost in thought at the kitchen table) and the banner requesting a video call.

Thankfully, Tommy manages to spare himself that painful landing by adjusting his grip and scooting back into a seated position against the headboard. He takes and releases a deep breath to compose himself, before his thumb finds the Accept button.

Within an instant of Felicity coming into focus, Tommy feels his lips tug into a broad smile to compliment her still-sleepy one.

“Morning,” she greets with a little finger-wiggling wave, before she pulls a steaming mug of coffee into view with her other hand. After a second, she curls her fingers into her palm and wrinkles her nose in thought. “Wow, that was weird.”

“What, saying ‘good morning’?” Tommy asks, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

Felicity mirrors the expression and throws in a shrug. “I rarely get to open with it, at least. It’s usually beat out by someone requesting that I ‘please keep hands and feet and body inside the bed at all times’.”

“Always best to take those safety messages seriously, you know,” Tommy notes sagely. He can feel the corners of his mouth twitching, threatening an even bigger smile, but the impulse immediately extinguishes once he sees Felicity worrying her lower lip between her teeth and averting her gaze in uncertainty.

“I missed it today,” she blurts, catching them both off-guard after a (seemingly agonizingly long) beat. A light flush comes to her cheeks at that, but she confidently lifts her eyes back to meet Tommy’s and amends, “I missed you. Waking up with only a tangle of blankets trying to keep me in bed, and then getting ready on my own… I mean, it’s not unusual or unfamiliar, I did get by for many years this way. But I guess going back now, after getting into new and shared habits, is stranger than I expected.”

Felicity takes a breath to duck her head a little and push a stray curl behind her ear with her free hand, before picking up steam. “It must be something about the distance that’s getting to me—for no real reason, because it’s only been the one day and you’re back tomorrow—but I wanted to call and say…”

“I have pillows, blankets, supreme comfort, and all that’s missing is you.”

Only once Felicity pauses, lips frozen in a little “O” and only a single surprised blink to prove that the connection isn’t buffering, does Tommy realize he’s landed himself right back where he started. This time, though, he’s backed by Felicity’s own testimony, and that changes the game.

The lights on the pinball machine of his thoughts are going wild, that’s for sure.

“What I mean by that,” he starts, punctuating mid-sentence by awkwardly clearing his throat, “is that I miss you too. That I was actually looking forward to cold feet on my legs this morning, and hoping to hear you singing in the bathroom, and…”

Tommy trails off, disguising a small wince. Thea’s going to be smug about this for the rest of the weekend, and almost certainly for a while after they return to Starling.

“And I think that, if we’re both feeling this way, maybe we’re not overreacting so much as we’re… on to something.”

It’s difficult to determine what that “something” is, beyond the sense that it feels right. That they—Felicity and Tommy, together—feel right, and even a temporary deviation from pattern (no matter how small or odd) is a shock to the system.

It’s okay to miss her.

Felicity remains silent on the other end—the stunned expression having melted off her face and into something more thoughtful, but much less readable. Even though their conversation up to this point made their alignment apparently clear and she’s likely just turning the implications over in her mind, Tommy can’t help but subtly squirm from the suspense.

“Yeah,” Felicity finally speaks up, lips spreading in a small, soft smile as she nods in agreement. “Maybe we are.”

Despite that being the very answer Tommy was hoping to hear, he has no immediate idea how to respond.

“Oh. Uh, good,” he fumbles. “Because I’m hoping you’ll feel the same way about these pillows if I manage to find out where they’re from and get my hands on a few.”

Something in Tommy’s chest swoops as Felicity cracks out a startled yet amused laugh. “You’re really stuck on those, huh?”

Tommy meets that with a casual shrug and pats the one next to him for emphasis. “I’m a connoisseur. These meet all the necessary criteria, and then some.”

“And I’m a tough sell,” Felicity retorts, settling back in her seat and bringing her mug to her lips. “I know what I like, and I’m seeing only one pillow here that I want for sure by the end of the weekend.” To drive the point home, she bobs her head sharply to give Tommy a once-over.

“Well, now that I will gladly arrange,” Tommy agrees, and lets the grin spread unrestrained across his face.

[geekydane]

Talk to me - Tommy Shelby x reader - Chapter 14

Masterlist

Author note:

Hello guys. I’m sorry for the long pause but i needed some time after everything that happened. 2020 is indeed the worst year ever. I can’t wait for this year to be over omg... 

-------------------------------------------------------------- 

Tommy never showed at the office that day. You were on edge but you kept your head as high as possible as you worked thought the workload of the day. You asked Arthur when he got in if he knew where Tommy was. Arthur looked at you with an apologetic expression that told you that he might know where he was and why he was gone but said he didn’t know anything. You nodded at his response and sat down again to work.

Even though you wanted to see Tommy again, you were dreading to hear what his conclusion of his thought could be. You were not ready to say good bye but you had to if he really wanted to be with someone else. Maybe someone else could make his nightmare disappear too and you would have to start living with yours again.

When people started to leave the office and the betting shop you sat behind and kept working. Lizzie gave your shoulder a squeeze which you barely noticed. It was first when it had gotten slightly darker outside and you had a hard time reading the papers because of the lack of light you stopped working. When you leaned back in the chair you looked around the office. You hadn’t notice the person in the doorway, even though it was the only light source nearby. Polly stood there with her arms folded over her chest and watched you with a little pity in her eyes.

“You need to come in for dinner.” She spoke in a low and calm voice but the office was so silent that a shiver went though you. What if it was the last time she ever said that to you?

“Yes. I’m coming.” You mumbled and got up from your chair. Polly kept standing in the doorway while you cleaned up your desk. You didn’t want to take the trip into the office and clean it the day after, if Tommy kicked you out. You didn’t want to look Lizzie or anyone else in the eyes after that, you just wanted to disappear as fast as possible. You put everything personal on your desk in your bag you always brought with you to work, even though it was just downstairs. It looked more professional.

It was weird sitting down at the dinner table. The atmosphere in the room was tense. Esme tried to talk you up and you help feed the children like you had become used to. When you had a moment where you forgot your surroundings and your thoughts was somewhere else, Polly put a hand on your arm and let her thumb rub calming circles on your skin. It was such a motherly gesture that you couldn’t help but smile a little. Tommy didn’t join you for dinner and neither did John or Arthur. No one mentioned anything at all like it was the normal. You excused yourself as fast as possible after the dinner and went to you and Tommy’s shared room.

You walked in circles like you had seen Tommy do from time to time when he was stressing about work. Pacing did help you calm down at all. You thoughts went everywhere and you thought up every bad thing that could happen. You were going to be alone and there was nothing you could do about it. Then why wait for him to come back and tell it to your face? You could save yourself from an embarrassment. You could be ready to leave as soon he comes back, if you just could find a bag somewhere you could borrow. The you could say your good byes and them leave immediately. Or maybe even before he got home. You moved about in the room and started emptying the drawers that had become yours. You collected all your things and placed them on the bed to get an overview of how much you stuff you had actually moved to Tommy’s. It gave you a type of calm when you had something to do and you thought about something else. Packing. You just needed to not think about the reason.

When you had got all your clothing neatly folded and your stuff in the bathroom collected you left the room without looking back and went looking for Esme. She must have some kind of bag you could you to transport all your things to your apartment. You went to her and John’s room where she sat rocking their youngest in her arms. She smiled up at you from the edge of the bed. There was something so calming about it. The whole atmosphere of the room with the dim light from a yellow lightbulb hanging in the celling was so warm and comfortable. You felt like you were intruding on a precious moment, but Esme patted her hand on the bed beside her, urging you to sit down. You did as she instructed.

“Coming to say good night? You left awfully early at dinner.” She said without looking away from the little one.

“I… actually came to ask you if I could borrow a duffle bag or something like it. I’ll give it back, I promise.”

“A duffle bag? For what?” She looked at you with frown.

“I… I’m leaving before Tommy gets back. I think it’s for the best. I don’t think...” You were cut off by Esme half shouting.

“You don’t think…!” She took herself in raising her voice as the little one her arms stirred. She continued in a whisper shouting.  

“You are not leaving. You and Tommy are perfect for each other and you need each other. He might not be found of the idea of never having an heir, but I think it will break him if you left him.”

“He’s not here, Esme. He has not only been avoiding me all day, but neglecting his work! That’s not like him. Nothing is more important to him than his work and if the bare presence of me in the office is enough to…” You were again caught off but this time not by Esme but some loud banging and scrambling noises from the hallway. You both looked at each other and Esme quickly handed you her daughter and were out the door before you could reach.

“She’s still here.” You froze when you heard his voice. Tommy was in the hallway and there was a slight panic in his voice. Was he expecting you to be gone before he came back? A knot formed in your stomach but you couldn’t do anything than keep rocking the little girl to keep her calm.

“Yes. She’s with me. She’s in my room. She isn’t going anywhere.” Esme defended you and in the next moment tommy was in the doorway. His nails almost digging into the frame. He looked at you with such hurt in his eyes. It was really hurt him to see you with the little girl in your arms again. A moment you wouldn’t be able to have with him. Only these borrowed moments. Esme came in and took the child from your arms, giving you a look that you couldn’t really judge.

“Go with him.” She whispered close to you and as you stepped closer to Tommy he turned in the door. You followed him to your room, passing John, Polly and Arthur on the way. He must have been with them in the hall. They all caught your eyes cautiously. Tommy closed the door behind you and stood between you and the only way out. He didn’t move out of the place so you turned to him and saw how he was looking over at all your stuff spread out on the bed.

“You were leaving.” He said, more of a statement than a question.

“Yes.” You simply said and let your arms fold over your chest in a protective manner. This was the conversation you were dreading. You weren’t going to save yourself for the embarrassment. Tommy looked at you for a long while before he sighed frustrated and walk to the sofa. He let himself fall into it, but like he was a restless child he shifted position a few times before he settled. He was leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees. He looked thoughtfully out in the air.

“Is that what you want?” He asked a little lower.

“….No.” You admitted and looked to the floor.

“Come here.” You looked up surprised when Tommy held his hand out for you. You were deeply confused about what he was thinking at that moment. He had stormed out on you and kept his distance all day. His brothers couldn’t tell you where he was but looked at you with such pity. Now he just sat there… Holding out his hand for you and with an unreadable expression on his face. But you had trusted Tommy almost from the start and you were even ready to leave the life you had finally build for yourself to make sure that he would be happy. If happy meant kids then…

“Please.” He pleaded. You walked to him and let your smaller hand fall into his and as soon you curved your fingers around his, be pulled you closer to him, so that you were standing right in front of him. He looked up at you and the unreadable expression he had been wearing before disappeared and was replaced by a sad frown. Next thing you know he pulled you in and buried his face in your dress and curled his arms around your waist. You froze under his touch. You felt his breath heat up an area on your stomach and when you didn’t reach at all he tightened the grip around you. You could feel the need in his action and you immediately knew that he wasn’t going to leave you for this. He needed you as much as you felt you needed him and it made you overly happy. You let one hand cares the back of his neck and the other rest on his cheek.

“It took me some time to think and no matter what I wanted before, I just can’t see myself without you by my side anymore.” He mumbled into the fabric of your dress.

“Tommy.”

“I swear to you, my heart skipped three beats more by the shock I got when I saw all your things packed, than any bomb in France could master.” The honesty surprised you and you couldn’t help letting out a small laugh. The vibration it cursed in your stomach made Tommy look up at you with a hint of a smile.

“I’m glad it’s amusing to you.” You could hear the sarcasm in his voice so you couldn’t help but ruffle up his hair a little.

“That’s not why I laughed, Tommy. I am just so relived I could cry.”

“I’m sorry.” He said and buried his face back in your dress. You let your fingers run over the tightly shaved hair in the back of his head. It was one of the most calming feelings you had experienced.

“You have nothing to say sorry for. I understand your reaction fully and I like that you have had those thoughts about us and… children.” You said as gentle as possible. Yes he came back but you didn’t know how sensitive the subject would be. You were surprised when Tommy suddenly leaned back in the sofa and pulled you with him. You made a screeching sound as you were falling into his lap and tried your best to steady yourself by grapping the back of the sofa so all of your weight didn’t fall on him.

“Well I’ve said how I feel about us before. Things haven’t changed and we can keep enjoying each other without anyone interrupting. And if we suddenly want a child we can just steal one of Johns. I’m sure they will keep producing and won’t notice if we take one.” Tommy joked and you almost choked on your laughter. Tommy started laughing too and it was such a beautiful thing on top of all the nerves.

“I don’t think Esme would like that, but I’m sure we can borrow a few of them from time to time.” You giggled and Tommy kissed you fast. You completely stopped talking and went in for another much longer kiss that was so needed. You sat there looking at each other, leaning in for another and another.

“What do you say if I invited you out for dinner?” He mumbled against your lips and you pulled back.

“Now?”

“Of course.”

“Tommy, it’s nearly midnight and I already ate with Polly, Esme and the kids.” You said with a frown and kept drawing circles with your fingers in the hair on the back of his head.

“Tomorrow then? I don’t take no for an answer. I want to take you somewhere nice where we need to dress up and play pretend that we are some upper class pampered asses.” Tommy leaned forward and playfully bit your lower lip.

“Can I be… a Countess?”

“Only if I can be your Count.”

“I don’t remember us getting married.” You teased.

“Well not yet.” Tommy’s words sounded so serious that there went a shiver down your spine. Not yet. So maybe one day? Nothing was off the table yet and the feeling of hope overwhelmed you and you were almost starting to cry from the pure happiness. Without any more words you let Tommy pick you up and lay you down on your shared bed.

----------------------------------------------------------------

You had been shining all day. One big smile from morning to evening and not even Polly’s comment about how your night must have been really good didn’t even make you embarrassed for once. Tommy wasn’t at the office most of the day, but when he came in he leaned down to place a tender kiss on your lips before he disappeared into his own office. You let him be so he could finish his work in time for you two to get out for dinner. When you got off work and said good bye to Lizzie, you knocked on Tommy’s door. A slightly grumpy grumble came from the other side and you weren’t sure if it mean stay away or come in. You walked in anyway, because at that point you thought he might forgive you just because you were you. It took him some time to put the papers up and look who actually came through the door. His face instantly lit up and you walk around his desk to take his hand he was holding out for you.

“You just go up and get ready. I’ll be done in a few minutes.” He tugged your hands to his mouth and kissed your knuckles.

“You sure? We can do it another time.”

“Absolutely. It’s nothing that can’t wait till tomorrow. I just need to finish this one off now that I’ve started it.” He nodded his head towards the papers on the table and you left him to finish his work. Dressing up wasn’t too hard now that it wasn’t too long ago you went shopping with Ada. The dresses you bought was very simple but with the right accessories it could look every elegant. A crimson long dress with a gilded metal belt around the hips, matched with black heals with golden buckles. You stood at the mirror trying to get some of your favourite earrings on, when Tommy finally came running.

“Sorry it took a while longer than I thought.” He mumbled and came up to you. He rested his chin on your shoulder and placed his hands on your hips. It made him able to see you in the full length mirror.

“Mmmmh. You look very beautiful, my Countess.” He half whispered in your ear and placed a small kiss in the area underneath it. You shivered. You turned around and put your arms around his neck.

“Only for you, Count Shelby.” You teased and Tommy winched hearing the nickname.  

“It doesn’t really have a good ring to it. I don’t think I’m meant to have a title.”

“I think Thomas sounds much better than Count anyway.”  

“Please call me Tommy.” He said and gave you his best bedroom eyes. You knew what he was doing. The way his hands started to worked their way down over the fabric of your dress and how close he was. You could feel his breath on your skin and you knew that if you gave in and fell into his, you would not get out of the house that evening.

“Tommy, you need to change your clothing. You made a reservation aaand… there is time when we get back.” You let go of him. He growled but did as you said and went to the wash room to freshen up and put on a new suit.

---------------------------------------------

You knew when Tommy said it would be a fancy restaurant, he meant it. But when he stopped the car on one of the high end streets of Birmingham outside Restaurant Purnell’s, your eyes widened. A valent came up to Tommy’s car and opened the door for you. He reached out for your hand but you stepped out by yourself, avoiding his touch but said a think you, so you couldn’t seem ungrateful. Tommy handed him the car keys and told him to take good care of the car.

When you stepped inside you had the same reaction like you had when you entered the house of Lady Isabella. The ceiling was height and a beautiful chandelier was hanging just over the host desk.

“A reservation for Shelby.” Tommy wasted no time and spoke the second you stood in front of the host. The well-dressed middle age man stood with his head don’t in the reservation book and didn’t look up at first. Tommy immediately looked annoyed and you grabbed his arm and gave it a squeeze to make him calm down. He put his hand over your to let you know that he knew what you were trying to do. You stood a few moments more before Tommy finally had enough and cleared his throat so loud that the people at the nearest table even looked up. The host finally looked up slowly and his eyes widened and he fumbled with the pages in the book.

“M-m-mr. Shelby. I didn’t see you. Let me take you to your table. The best we have, just as you asked for.” The man didn’t even look you up in the book but stormed off through the restaurant to a far corner. You followed his path through the crowded restaurant and you noticed how some of the tables went silent when you passed them. Tommy was known in all layers of society. All the stares directed at you made you slightly anxious but being the one who was there with the famous Tommy Shelby also gave you a kick. Exciting and frightening at the same time.

The host held out the chair for you and Tommy gave him an approving nod before the host bowed his head and ran to the nearest waiter and whispered something in his ear. It was a good thing that Tommy sat with the back to them, because you were sure that he might have commented on it. The waiter nodded while looking your way and he hurried to your table to take your order.

“You can order whatever you want.” Tommy said gently. You ordered something that wasn’t too expensive. It wasn’t that Tommy couldn’t pay for it, because you knew he had much more money than he seemed. The whole family’s income in the company was massive. You knew because you sat with the numbers every day. You were just getting used to not having much or needing much, so it felt better.

“This is actually the first time we go out, without it being business somehow.” You thought out loud. Tommy reached his hand over the table to take yours.

“Would you like to go out more often?”

“I guess. It doesn’t mean that we need to dine at a fancy restaurant. I just want to get out and experience things with you. Maybe go traveling one day. Go to London? That’s not too far.” You focused on your intertwined hands. Tommy chuckled.

“London is hardly traveling, but I’ll take you if you want.”

“We could go to the beach when it’s summer?” You suggested and Tommy looked like he was considering it when suddenly a woman’s scream pierced the air. In a split second the whole room was moving, people shouting and running.

“Murder! There has been a murder!” Someone shouted and the blood in your veins grew cold instantly. You looked to Tommy, but he was already scanning the room for any possible threads. He must have concluded that there wasn’t anything nearby, because he let go of your hand to stand up.

“I’ll be back in a minute. Stay here. If anything happen, hide.” He ordered and he was gone before you could respond. You sat there and observed the panic in everyone’s eyes. It must have been just outside the restaurant, because people started to gather around a curtain window to the left of the door. People gasped and turned around. Some took a hand to their stomach like they were going to be sick. Tommy hadn’t hesitated when he leaped out of the door in a hurry. Maybe you could just take a small peep? It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen someone dead before. You got up and crossed the room to the crowd of people hovering over at the window. You stood up on your tip toes to look over the shoulders of the nearest people. You couldn’t see much because of the others, but you got a short glimpse of someone lying on the ground. What you could see was that Tommy standing near the person and talking to someone you hadn’t seen before. They were all wearing the sixpence and they had the signature haircut that told you that they were part of the Peaky Blinders. If they were there it had to be related to them. You suddenly became aware that whoever the person was, it might be someone you knew. You felt sick to your stomach as you back away. So many people was staring at the dead body outside like it was an attraction and you suddenly felt the need to tell them all off, but your anxiety held you back from doing anything about it.

You decided that you needed to join Tommy outside instead. You wanted to be with Tommy and this was part of his life. You stepped outside and Tommy stopped in the middle of his conversation and went over you to. He placed his hands on your shoulders and turned you around form the scene.

“Tommy, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” You reminded him, but he kept pushing you away.

“Believe me, this is not something you have seen before.” He said with a slight shaking in his voice, you noticed. You stopped and turned around, but he blocked the way from you.

“Tommy, is it one of the Peaky Blinders?”

“…yes.” Tommy admitted.

“Did Mick King do it?”

“It’s possible.” Tommy scratched the back of his neck, which meant that he was at ease. He knew it was Mick King. Why would someone else kill a Peaky Blinder right outside the restaurant where Tommy and you were just walking into? Mick King still had people everywhere and he was showing what he could still do, even though Tommy was slowly taking over in Manchester.

You made a decision right there and then. For the last 24 hours you had imagined how your life with Tommy would be like. Where you would travel, how you would live and who would be in your life. What you hadn’t thought about for the last 24 hours was how the Peaky Blinders was going to be a big part of that life as well. So you had to embrace it and with that you pushed passed Tommy and walked up to the two members of Peaky Blinders you couldn’t recognize. They were bent down over the body but didn’t move out of the spot. It was like they didn’t know what to do. You halted when you got close enough to see the condition of the body. You slammed a hand over your mouth, trying not to gag. It was like a nightmare coming alive. The poor man was cut open from the navel and up between the ribs. His guts were hanging out in a bloody mess and were lying to both sides of him. But if he hadn’t died of that, the deep cut in his throat must have gotten him instantly. Blood was still gushing out of the deep wound.

Tommy came up behind you and wrapped you in his arms, pressing your head into his shoulder like he could protect you from what you had just seen. You were shocked by the state of the man, yes, but you weren’t scared away.

“We need to get him away from here. Cover him up. Let him keep as much pride as possible.” You stated firmly and you could feel Tommy nod.

“We already send for someone.” Tommy assured you and you untangled yourself from him but he kept a hold on your hip. You didn’t care as long as you we able to see the butchered man.

“Good. We need to find his family and inform them. Help them with a proper burial. After that we need to stop this. Mick King needs to die.”

------------------------------------------- 

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[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Thirty-Seven

Table of Content or Part Thirty-Six

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Word Count: 3.2K

Warning(s): Explicit language, Drug abuse, mentions of abuse

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"...I don't think that's necessary." I argue, stepping down the hallway with Ross and Tansy at my heels.

"Oh, c'mon, Viv, it's one shoot." Tansy tells me. "I think it would be nice."

"Of course you would, Tansy. You like stuff like that." I reply. "I have no business being in a magazine like that."

"It's Metal Edge." Ross interjects with this British accent in my ears. "All you need to do is be pretty and stand against a wall with Nikki for a couple of pictures." He explains and I glare back at him.

"Isn't it a rock magazine that covers musicians?" I ask.

"Yeah." He tells me.

"Hmm. I'm not a musician. I have no business being in it." I make my point.

"Your Nikki's wife. You've got a pretty face and banging body and the fans will appreciate that." He argues.

"Ah, so now I'm the little extra on the side so when the fans get done reading about their favorite band, they can rub one out imagining the bassist's pretty wife with a banging body, naked."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Yeah, you did." I state as we walk towards Nikki, Vince, Tommy, and Mick.

"Can we hurry up and take this, man?" Nikki asks him.

"Tell your wife to take a picture for the damn magazine." Ross states to him.

"Wife, take a picture for the damn magazine." Nikki repeats with very little enthusiasm.

"No." I cross my arms, looking up at him.

"Vivian, they told me to get a couple of photographs with you and Nikki together." Ross continues to plead. "It's one picture. You're not selling your soul."

I look at Tansy as she's giving me a small, reassuring, smile.

"Fine." I give up, rolling my eyes.

Ross let's out a breath of relief being that we've been going back and forth for 45 minutes now.

"I'll go get ready while you guys do whatever." I tell him.

"Thank you!" He calls after me, as Tansy has my hand in hers, pulling me to the dressing room.

Ross Haflin was the band's photographer that documented every tour.

Everything from random, sweet, camaraderie filled candids of the band, to pictures from their shows that you can practically hear the music through, to even some full frontal nudity shots of someone in the band who will not be named. (Hint: It's definitely not Mick.)

I finish my makeup as Tansy finishes curling my hair, examining her work in the mirror.

Once I get changed into the tight black minidress and red heels Tansy tosses my way, we're meeting Ross and Nikki in the hall.

Nikki's face is lighting up like a lightbulb when he sees me, I don't know if it's because of coke in his system or if he's just glad to see me.

"You look great." He grins at me, his eyes looking me up and down before placing random kisses all over my face, causing me to smile like an idiot.

"10 minutes, guys." Doc says just as we're kissing, pulling the both of us back from each other to stand against the wall.

"Try to look like you love each other." Ross says sarcastically after Nikki pulls me closer beside him. "Alright, one, two..." Ross counts off. Just as he says "three" Nikki's fingers are tickling at my side, cause me to laugh and jerk a little, ruining the picture.

"Nikki." I complain, nudging at him a little.

After several more attempts to take a serious photo, one of them involving him pulling the bottom of my dress up, we finally get the winning picture: him with my crucifix between his bared teeth, looking directly at the camera, while my mouth is pulled into a smile as I laugh at his stupidity, my arms loosely around his waist.

After the show, Doc is pulling the guys back into the dressing room before they can entertain the idea of changing really quick and hitting the town.

"Something good has happened." Doc tells them, smiling, leaving us glancing at each other in confusion.

"What is it?" Tansy and I both ask at the same time, my heart racing despite him saying it's good news.

"As of today, Shout At The Devil and Theater of Pain have both been certified double-platinum." Doc informs us. 

I look at Nikki to gauge his reaction as Tansy let's out an excited shrill, engulfing Tommy and Vince both in a hug. She goes to do the same to Mick, but he looks at her blankly, only making her squeeze at his hand with a proud smile. 

"Nikki?" I ask cautiously, seeing him wearing a neutral expression, my arm looping around his.

"Who the fuck are these people?" He questions suddenly, causing us to fall silent. "Who the fuck listens to us that much?" He adds and I rub my lips together. 

"People who really love you." Tansy states like it's known knowledge. 

I don't think Nikki knew he was capable of being loved as unconditionally as their fans loved them. 

Later that night, laying in the silent hotel room, hearing Vince have his nightly menage a trois as Tansy sleepily tosses beside me in our bed. 

Me and her have been left by Nikki and Sparkie, Tommy tagging along, to go out.

Tansy's been attempting sobriety...kind of?

"Ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh!" Short, high-pitched squeaks leaves one of the girls Vince is with and I cringe in disgust.

"Ew." I mumble, trying to cover my ears.

"It's so fucking big." The other girl comments in a wanton moan.

"It's not that big." Tansy comments tiredly, causing me to choke on my spit. "It's good, but he never had me—"

"Oh, fuck, I'm gonna cum!" The first girl nearly screams out, causing Vince to groan.

The next thing we hear through the thin walls is the sound of gushing liquid hitting the wall we're against as the girl gives out a cry.

"Okay, he's either upped his game or they're getting off on the fact they're simply fucking Vince Neil because I definitely did not do that when we dated." Tansy's interested now, sitting up and pressing her ear against the wall.

"Why on Earth would you want to hear that?!" I scold in a whisper. "You pervert." I add.

"My turn." The second girl pipes sultrily. "Did I mention I can lock my ankles behind my neck?" 

"Awe, Viv, you can do that." Tansy whispers, nudging my arm with her hand as if that makes me and the random woman kindred spirits.

"How do you know that?" I ask her with furrowed brows.

"Tape 2, four minute and forty-three second mark." She says casually, focusing on hearing the action next door.

"You've seen our sex tape?!" I keep my voice to a loud whisper.

"I've seen all of them." She replies. "You look hot in them, don't worry."

"I—"

"I'd like to see that." Vince tells the woman arrogantly, interrupting what I was about to say.

"Gross." I groan out, covering my head with my pillow to drown out the noises.

After a couple more minutes of trying not to vomit from hearing his sex, I'm snatching the covers off myself and stepping to the door.

"Where are you going?" Tansy asks me and I ignore her, going out in the hall and banging on Vince's door with the flat of my palm.

The door opens, and I'm face to face chest with Tommy...a naked Tommy.

I avoid looking down.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I ask him, seeing a naked woman wrap her arms around his waist, peeking at me from behind him. "You're suppose to be out with Nikki and Sparkie."

"We got back early." Tommy explains to me, pupils blown out.

"Where's Sparkie and Nikki?"

He steps to the side and motions to Sparkie, who's gang-banging another woman with Vince.

I feel sick to my stomach.

"Where's Nikki?"

Tommy's hand curls into a fist as his knuckles knock at the bathroom door beside him.

"Sixx?!" He asks, and I already know what Nikki being locked in the bathroom, avoiding a good time, means: he's high as shit.

The bathroom door, revealing Nikki as he slumps against the door frame, his eyes struggling to stay open as he looks at me.

"Uhh...you good, man?" Tommy asks him, cautiously.

"Yeah, dude." Nikki slurs, taking a step forward to me.

"I got him." I tell Tommy, helping Nikki out the door. "Enjoy the rest of your night." I tell Tommy, ignoring the moans and screams of the girl Sparkie and Vince are working on.

I leave before Tommy can reply, Nikki leaning against me as I knock on our room door.

After several attempts, and Tansy still hasn't come yet, I pull the other key out of Nikki's pants pocket and unlock the door.

A bitter, horrid smell invades my nose, and I see Tansy crouching in front of a hotplate, looking at me wide-eyed, pipe in hand as she eagerly awaits the base to cook up.

That moment I found out Tansy was dabbling in crack.

She did a complete nose dive into it a couple months later, and once Vanity taught Nikki how to properly cook it up, smoke it, and get the biggest high of it, he, Vanity and Tansy would just lay around our house and smoke crack together.

I didn't mention it to Tansy the next day because I had other things on my mind...such as Sparkie having a death wish.

You can hear a pin drop in here. Even the flight attendants are holding their breath.

It seems Tommy, Nikki, and Mick have sobered up on the spot the second Sparkie says, "well, I didn't have any cash on me, and your purse was on the bus so I just made a trade. I didn't think you would need them anymore. You seem pretty happy to me, lately" once I'm digging around in my purse, asking the guys if they've seen my Nardil anywhere because it's time for me to take it.

I'm still trying to figure out if I heard him right.

Fred's getting antsy, I see him from the corner of my eye as he slowly stands from his spot, waiting for me to attack with my teeth going for the bastard's neck.

Vince just has this little smirk on his face because he knows Sparkie is about to meet his maker.

"W-what?" Tansy squeaks at her boyfriend, confused as to why her sweet, innocent, precious little Sparkler would do such a thing to her best friend.

"Where are my pills?" I ask Sparkie just to clarify.

He looks at me with raised brows.

"I told you, Vivian, I didn't have any money. I needed some blow. I remembered you keep them in your purse, which was on the bus, which was unlocked. I got your pills out and made a trade." He repeats to me like I was too stupid to understand him the first time.

"You heard him, right, Doc?" I ask.

"I--yeah?" Doc replies, uneasy at my calmness.

"Good. Because a jury will need to hear a witness and know I had justification for finally killing this motherfucker!" I lunge over the seat in front of me to grab fistfuls of Sparkie's greasy hair, Tansy screaming as she stumbles out of her seat beside him.

"Vivian!" Doc's yelling as he reaches his hand out, trying to pry me off of Sparkie.

I turn and kick him in the chest with my heel, still leaned over the seats, my arm around Sparkie's neck, hopefully crushing his throat as he fights against me, sputtering and gasping for air as Tansy's crying and pleading with me, but I don't hear a word she says.

Tommy and Nikki come to Doc's aid, the both of them grabbing at me, only causing me to kick at them and swing my free hand.

"You fucking kick me, I'm laying your ass out, Viv!" Nikki threatens me sharply.

I look at him, directly in the eye, and kick him as hard as I can in the arm.

His eyes go wild, an ugly sneer pulls at his lips to expose grinding teeth, and he grabs me by my hair, causing me to whimper out as tears prick my eyes from the pain, and forces me off the seats to the floor.

Because I've always been glutton for punishment when I'm angry, him nearly scalping me wasn't enough.

My foot collides with Nikki's crotch so hard he doubles over and falls to the floor, completely disregarding me, and giving me time to reach up beside me and grab the Jack Daniels bottle sitting in the seat Tommy just got up from.

Sparkie's trying to recover, taking long, heavy breaths, as the whiskey flies from the Jack bottle as it hits him square in the head.

Fred snatches me off the floor, manhandling me like he would do one of the guys, and throws me into the small bathroom, locking me inside for the remainder of the flight, only yanking me out and making me sit next to him and buckle up to land.

Sparkie was taken to the nearest hospital to make sure he wasn't suffering from a concussion, and I was getting the chewing out of a lifetime.

"You just can't start trying to kill people left and right, Vivian." Fred snaps as we step to the car that's taking us to the hotel. "You're gonna fuck around and get sued and no offense, Nikki, but you can't afford that." He adds and Nikki scoffs.

"None fucking taken." He mumbles back.

"He traded my antidepressant for blow!" I argue.

"I think she did a great thing." Vince tells them. "The little bitch deserved it."

"Thank you, Vince." I say to him and Nikki scoffs out bitterly, causing me to turn to look at him.

"What?" I ask him, not finding anything wrong with what I said.

"You would agree with him." He replies as we get into the limo.

"What's that suppose to mean?" I snap back at him.

He just shakes his head a little and looks straight ahead as Vince and Fred get into the seats across from us.

I almost ask where Tommy and Mick are, then I remember Tommy went with Tansy, Sparkie and Doc, to the hospital and planned to drop Mick off at the hotel on the way there.

"No need to be threatened just because  she slept in the bed with me." Vince tells him, reasonably. "You know that, right?"

Nikki's laughing it off as if he could never be threatened by Vince Neil...although it's so obvious he is.

"Well, Nikki, if it bothers you that much, maybe don't stay out all night." I suggest calmly. "I'm always gonna go find one of my friends and stay with them for the night because I don't like sleeping by myself. That doesn't mean I'm having sex with them or want to. I just get lonely."

"Well, when I get lonely, I don't crawl into bed with other people." He says it harshly and I roll my jaw.

"No, of course you don't. You just warm up to a needle and strip your veins." I argue in the same tone, seeing a brief glance of Satan in his hazel eyes before his hand, harshly, hits my thigh hard enough to leave a stinging, firey hot, dark red print that's welting up in the shape of his hand.

I didn't say a damn thing else to him until we got back to L.A. a couple days later for a a week-long break. All I could think about while avoiding my own husband, were Ross' words, "pretend you love each other" echoing in my brain.

People who really love each other don't kick, hit or talk to each other the way Nikki and I did.

Ross would always say, "alright, you love each other" or "look like you want to be together" before taking our picture.

At first it was light-hearted, but over the course of two years, it began being said with less light, and more of a command, which after after finding out what I did from his drug buddy/mistress, any commands about a picture made by Ross would be followed by me saying, "I don't wanna touch that doped up bastard-fuck" and Nikki saying, "I'm not getting anywhere near that rabid fucking bitch."

We would, of course, suck it up and take the pictures for the sake of the fans and our public image, but the second he said he was done, we were darting away from each other like we would die if we touched each other more than five minutes.

We could barely stand to be in the same room after Vanity dropped the bombshell which really wouldn't have blindsided me had I been paying more attention to all the screaming red flags the both of them were practically throwing at me. And if you've been in that situation, the signs are oh so clear in hindsight once you're taking a break between crying, to put the pieces you hadn't given a second thought before, together.

A huge one, possibly the most painful, was the giant roman numeral "V" Nikki had gotten tattooed on his arm months prior to the revealed betrayal. I hadn't thought anything of it at the time when I first saw it after he got back from getting it, other than "what significance does the number "five" have to him?" 

It was a roman numeral, but was also a "V."

For "Vanity." 

Once I came to that realization in the bathroom of the hotel we were staying at, that I had barricaded myself in, it hurt even worse than just seeing the woman I had practically given a house key to, joke about becoming "Vanity 6" once again after taking my husband's last name, while waving my wedding ring around. 

He didn't even have anything related to me tattooed on him and I was his wife. But he had no issue slapping a big-ass "V" on his arm and playing it off like a number. If "five" had a significant meaning to him at the time, it was because it was the number of times he bought heroin in a day.

All sanity left in me was tossed aside and it was fucking war from then on and I mean war.

After that, it seemed like every time Nikki and I were in a room together, everyone tensed up and prepared to either hit the floor to avoid being caught in the collateral in case Nikki or I started throwing shit at each other, or eyed their exits to escape being a witness to some fucked up things being said between me and him. 

Shortly after the Vanity incident, I figured since we were tattooing the initial of the people we told each other not to worry about on ourselves, Nikki wouldn't have minded seeing a perfectly sharp"D" on my upper hip—and Duff and I weren't even messing around yet at that time.

It was small, only about the size of a quarter, but it packed one hell of a punch when Nikki first laid eyes on it and I sarcastically, innocently, spat out, "but...it's just the roman numeral for 500."

[raywritesthings]

Classically Trained

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen (Eventual) Characters: Laurel Lance, Ted Grant, Oliver Queen, Sara Lance, Quentin Lance, Team Arrow, Eobard Thawne Summary: The Dollmaker meets unexpected resistance when enacting his plan to destroy Detective Lance's soul, and Laurel ends up meeting a needed friend. Notes: Older Ted Grant, Metahuman Laurel Lance *Can be read on my AO3 or FFN, links are in my bio*

Laurel had never been more terrified. Not when she’d been attacked by the Triad in her own apartment, not during the staged prison riot at Iron Heights, not when Vanch had taken her hostage to use as bait against the Hood and not even when she’d been trapped under the rubble in the quake. Even though she’d felt for certain she was going to die before Tommy had come to save her.

Any of those instances, she could have died, and died with dignity. This, what the Dollmaker planned to do to her...this was a horror that went beyond death.

“Look at her. She's so lovely,” Mathis said as he leaned in close to her face. Laurel’s breathing picked up, audible with the tube stuck down her throat. God, she could feel his breath and it was sickening. “Maybe a little too much melanin in the skin, but...it's the imperfections that make art sublime.”

She couldn’t really process that backhanded compliment, not over her father’s pleading and the roar in her own ears. This was it. She was dying. No one was saving her this time. Not Tommy, not her father, not the Hood and not even Oliver and his military bodyguard. She’d lost or pushed people away too many times, and a maniac was going to kill her to destroy her father.

“She’s your world, she’s your very soul,” Mathis continued to wax poetic. Her father was shouting at him now. Laurel wanted to join him.

“I will kill you, you son of a bitch!”

She couldn’t do this to him. She couldn’t just die like this! Her chest hurt from the rapid heaves of breath she was taking and the hammering of her heart.

The white liquid started to filter down from Mathis’ contraption and up the tube. She was going to choke, and it would all be over for her in a few moments. Her whole life, reduced to a glassy-eyed doll for other people to look at and pity.

“Laurel, sweetheart...close your eyes,” her father begged, tears leaking from his own.

Laurel’s eyes did squeeze shut, but she wasn’t ready to go out quietly. She was tired of being helpless, tired of just existing as an object for other people to batter and use to their own ends, tired of bottling it all up and burying the pain and the anger deep inside.

So she screamed. Only it wasn’t just a scream.

The tube and the straps holding it to her face ripped away from her, hitting the opposite wall. Glass shattered on the table with his contraption and from the few lightbulbs above, raining down into her hair and stinging her cheek with tiny cuts.

Laurel coughed at the feel of the tube leaving her throat, and that was what ended it. Whatever it had been. She gasped for breath, looking around in wide-eyed shock. Nothing was like it had been.

Her father had slid to the ground, still strapped into place with his arms behind his back while his head hung down. She could make out the sound of him groaning.

Just to her left, Mathis was also sprawled. Red was leaking from his one ear, and it took Laurel a moment to register that meant blood.

Movement to her right near the table caused her to start; the Hood had just stood up. She didn’t even know when he’d gotten there, but he must have been using the table for cover.

Laurel coughed again. “What...what just happened?”

He stared at her, she thought. In the dim light left by Mathis’s Bunsen burner, his eyes were glinting. After a long pause, he finally answered, “I was going to ask you.”

What?

“Laurel,” her father stirred, struggling to rise back onto his feet. “Honey, are you okay?”

“I- I’m fine. I’m alive.” She was shaking, she realized, uncontrollably. No matter what had happened, she was okay. She wasn’t going to die.

The Hood went to her father and undid his bindings. The vigilante hung back as he rushed forward to her, taking the straps off her arms.

“I just don’t understand. I mean, how did you do it?” Her dad asked.

“Do what?”

“You didn’t- you didn’t see? Laurel, you- your voice or something, I don’t know. It nearly knocked me over if I hadn’t been tied to the pole!”

“Dad, that doesn’t make any sense,” she said. Her eyes searched out the Hood again, but this time he looked away. Then he started forward.

“Mathis!”

The serial killer was no longer sprawled on the ground but was crawling on hands and knees towards the nearest exit.

“Damnit, he’s getting away!” Her father yelled, fumbling for some kind of weapon.

“No, he isn’t,” a different distorted voice spoke. Feminine. The blonde woman from the other night jumped down from the rafters in front of Mathis, the staff she carried going under his chin. His neck snapped before any of them could so much as cry out.

Only when Laurel did, she saw it.

The air in front of her seemed to pulse with waves of volume, not far enough to reach the other woman, though her head turned sharply in Laurel’s direction with pure shock etched into the features she could make out. It mirrored Laurel’s own.

She stumbled back and nearly tripped over her own feet, the sound cutting off as she gasped. A hand flew over her mouth. “I don’t- I don’t know how that—” she mumbled behind it.

They were all just staring at her, wary, none of them approaching. Like she was diseased. She’d gotten herself out of danger, and somehow it was so much worse than being rescued.

Laurel turned and ran.

“Laurel!”

She didn’t turn back at her father’s shout and just kept going. When her feet started to hurt, she tore off the stupid heels she was wearing and carried them.

Everything was just so screwed up. The Hood has come to save her and her father, even after she had joined the task force hunting him down. He was a good person, or trying to be. What had happened last spring hadn’t been his fault, easier as it had been to just blame him. No, what had happened to Tommy had been her fault, just like whatever had just happened back at the Dollmaker’s hideout was her fault. What was so wrong with her?

Laurel sagged against a wall, breathing hard and too tired to go on any further. She had no idea where she was, but it looked like some forgotten corner of the Glades.

“Hey, you alright?”

She looked up. There was an older man across the alley standing at the back door of a building he looked to just be locking up.

Laurel shook her head, not sure if she trusted herself to speak. That weird scream could come back any moment for all she knew.

“Someone chasing you? Running away from a bad boyfriend? Need the police?” He checked, getting more shakes of the head from her. “Any reason you don’t want to talk to me? If it’s Stranger Danger, the name’s Ted Grant.”

Laurel swallowed. “I’m not scared of you.” Even if the guy looked ripped enough to be a member of the Queen family’s security detail, he held himself in a way that made him seem much more open. “I’m scared of me.”

He looked her over, and even though she could see him assessing her there wasn’t any kind of predatory edge to it. He turned and inserted his key back into the lock, opening the door again.

“Look, best to get this off the street. Especially these days.” She blinked and had to move fast to catch the keys when he flung them at her face after. “So you know you’re not trapped.”

“Right.” Laurel walked up to the door.

“Not bad reflexes, by the way,” he remarked.

“Thanks?”

When he turned the lights on, she got a better idea of why he might have commented on it. Laurel looked around the gym floor, the bags hanging at various intervals and the ring standing in the middle.

“So, what do I call you? You can pick a name,” he offered.

“Uh, Dinah,” said Laurel, cringing immediately afterward. Brilliant idea, pick her own name! Even if it wasn’t the name people commonly attached to her. But she was still too rattled to really concentrate. She should’ve gone with Sara, she realized, if it had to be a name she was familiar with.

Ted grinned. “Old-fashioned. I like it. Okay, Dinah, the first thing you gotta learn is, you can’t run from yourself. No one can. So what are you really running from?”

“I don’t know,” she answered, hugging her arms to herself. “It just happened.”

“What did?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to find out.”

If anything, his grin got wider. “Try me.”

Something about his brazen confidence was soothing at the same time it was aggravating. She knew he probably thought she was just some helpless, battered woman. Part of her wanted to prove him wrong.

Part of her wanted to know she wasn’t just going crazy.

Laurel turned away from him, trying her best to draw on some of that jumbled panic, fear and adrenaline still coursing through her system. There was a burn at the back of her throat, not painful but present, and somehow she just knew. She opened her mouth and screamed.

The posters on the far wall went flying and the heavy bags hanging at that end of the gym swung as if caught in a storm. Nothing shattered, thankfully.

“Do you see why I’m scared now?” She asked, looking over her shoulder at him.

“I’ll be damned, Dinah.” He was staring at her now, too, but though the shock was there it wasn’t tinged with fear. Not like with her father and the vigilantes. If anything, he looked awed. “What are you gonna do with that?”

—-

He waited too long.

By the time Oliver reacted, Laurel was out the door and far down the street. He hurried into the night, but with no way of knowing which direction she’d fled in, he was hopeless to pursue her.

“Where did she go?” Lance asked, gasping for breath in the doorway. “What just happened?”

Oliver remained silent. In all his years away and everything he had seen, nothing like that had ever been among it.

“It was Mathis. He- he must’ve done something to her while I was out,” Lance was deciding for himself now. “And we can’t ask him, damnit!”

The former detective whirled back around, but the warehouse was empty aside from the Dollmaker’s broken body. The woman in the black mask had taken her leave as well.

“My associate and I will track you daughter,” Oliver promised. Then he fired a grapple arrow to ascend to the roof of the building next door. He hurried into the night, eyes scanning the streets below on his way to the base. He found nothing.

Oliver’s mind was still half on thinking of places Laurel might have run to — her apartment? Her father’s? A police station? — when he entered the base to find Felicity and John waiting for him.

“So, we heard a lot on the comms,” Felicity began. “Could you elaborate on what it all meant?”

“I got there, and Mathis was getting ready to- to turn Laurel into a doll,” Oliver said, covering his wavering voice with a cough. “Something happened before I could intervene.”

“Was it our mysterious blonde? Thought we heard something like that sonic device she had on her the other night,” Digg said.

“She was there, but no. It wasn’t her. It was Laurel. She…” He didn’t even know how to describe it. “She screamed and it, it just was a force, it came from her—”

“What do you mean?” Felicity was wearing a quizzical half-smile, like he was talking nonsense. He felt like he was talking nonsense.

“I mean it forced the tube out of her throat and Mathis to the ground. His ears were bleeding.”

“Laurel did that with a scream?” John crossed his arms, dubious. “Oliver, that’s impossible.”

“It’s not impossible,” Oliver disputed. “I saw things. On the island. Not this, but...people are capable of more than we might think possible.”

John frowned. “How come you never mentioned that before?”

“Because it never meant good things,” he told them.

“So, what, you’re saying Laurel is bad now?” Asked Felicity.

“No,” Oliver answered immediately. He could never think that. It just didn’t make sense. It must have been Mathis’ doing, like Lance had said. Unless…

John had pointed out the similarity between the sound that had come from Laurel and the device the unknown woman carried. Why had she been there at all? Why had she been near Laurel’s office at all?

Now Laurel was out there, alone and terrified. He had to find her before she was hurt. Or worse, hurt someone by mistake.

And he had to find her before anyone else did.

—-

Ted had seen a few things as protector of the streets in his day, but this about took the cake. A woman with a scream to bring the house down. He couldn’t make this stuff up if he tried.

“What do you mean ‘what am I going to do with it’?” She asked, scoffing. “I don’t even know how I got it, and I don’t want it.”

“Don’t be so hasty. Look, I can see the bruises forming there on your wrists. Something happened to you, didn’t it? Or was going to.” She looked down now, ashamed. Ted worked to gentle his tone. “What got you out of it?”

Her chin lifted slightly, trembling. “Don’t you think I’m some kind of freak?”

He shook his head. “Freak’s not in my vocabulary.” There was something curious about her, though. Those fancy clothes and yet she looked like she’d been put through the mill the same as any of them in the Glades. And not just from whatever had nearly happened tonight.

“What I see is someone who was in a tight spot and figured her own way out of it. A way that might come in handy again. You never know.”

“Why do you care?” She was incredibly suspicious for someone her age. He could see the way she kept tensing at each show of goodwill. Who had hurt this girl so badly?

He shrugged. “I get a lot of people in here who feel lost, who need to work something out. Helping them is how I keep giving back to my city.”

“You think you can help me?”

“Depends. Are you looking for help?”

She looked ready to snap at him, maybe with that scream of hers, too. But then her shoulders drooped, and her mouth turned down in a frown so fundamentally unhappy. “I don’t know what I’m looking for. I just know I can’t- I can’t go back right now. There’s people who know, and they’ll be looking for me, and I just cannot deal with that right now.”

He nodded to himself. The truth was, he wasn’t comfortable sending her back out there to walk home, and none of the cabs drove around this area of the city at this time of night anymore. He walked over to the supply closet and picked out a hoodie and pair of sweatpants he thought would be in her size well enough. “You’ll want some of these. You alright with black?”

“Black’s fine. I- you don’t have to help me.”

“Nobody has to help anyone, Dinah. But that’s kind of the point. I keep a couple cots in the back for if people get carried away and knock each other out. Or themselves, sometimes. You can use one of those. Take a few days. Then tell me what you’re thinking.”

He set the clothes on a bench and started to head back to his office.

“Ted?”

He looked back around in time to catch the keys she’d flung back at him. Ted smirked. “Yeah?”

The closest thing to a smile he’d seen her wear all night rose on her lips. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem. Goodnight, Dinah.”

—-

Quentin was ready to rip out his hair. He’d gone back to the precinct, checked Laurel’s apartment and her office. Nothing, except her belongings some of the other beat cops had found along with his in the parking lot when Dollmaker had attacked them. Her phone was among them. He had no way of reaching her.

He’d been so stupid! Laurel was going through enough on top of Mathis’ sick attempt at revenge. She’d needed support, whatever the hell had happened to her. And he’d been too stunned to give it.

The first thing he did the next morning was to call the DA’s office. “Yeah, this is Officer Lance. I’m looking for my daughter.”

“I’m sorry, officer, Laurel called in this morning to say she was taking the week off. She cited personal reasons? In light of the attack on you both last night, we approved the absence.”

“Laurel called?”

“Yes, I spoke to her myself.”

She had access to a phone, then. That was something. Something good? He didn’t know. But she was out there, alive. That alone brought him relief.

“Alright, listen, if she calls back could you please tell her to call me? Thank you.”

He would keep looking in the meantime. If Laurel was hiding because she was scared or thought she’d done something wrong, he was going to be the first person to tell her otherwise. Maybe Mathis should’ve gone to jail again, but he certainly wasn’t mourning the creep after what he’d tried to do. And whatever that scream had been, they’d figure it out. They always had.

He just needed some help finding her was all. So he ducked out of the precinct and put in a call to Smoak.

“Officer Lance. Did you hear from your daughter?”

“No, and I’m guessing you haven’t either. Okay, I found out she called into her office to take off work for the week. They approved it, considering the abduction last night. But that means she’s somewhere with a phone. Can you do anything with that?”

“Not unless I had the number. I’m sorry, Officer Lance.”

He hung his head. He should’ve been expecting that. “No, that’s alright. Was worth a shot.”

“Well, at least we know Laurel is alive? Sorry, that came out worse than in my head.”

“It’s fine. Listen, I’m gonna do a sweep around the warehouse, so I’ll let you go.”

“Okay, but— Officer Lance?”

“Yeah?” He asked, bringing the phone back up to his ear.

Smoak hesitated. “We’re looking at a possible connection to the masked woman who showed up last night. If you see her, let us know right away.”

That was something. He hadn’t even put much thought into the woman who had killed Mathis. What was her deal? “Right, yeah. I’ll let you know.”

He hung up and got into his squad car, driving over to the Glades. He drove around the streets surrounding the warehouse for hours, but didn’t find a thing.

—-

Laurel rubbed at her temples with a groan. It was five o’clock somewhere, and she was stone-cold sober. That was definitely a problem.

In the cold light of day, she wasn’t really sure what she was doing here. Here being the Wildcat Gym, as she’d realized upon looking at the logo on both the hoodie and sweatpants she was borrowing for the moment. The name seemed familiar to her, but she couldn’t remember why. She’d used the landline phone in Ted’s office to place a call into her work, knowing she did not have the energy nor the strength to show her face in there for a while.

Last year at CNRI, she would’ve hated taking even a day off. But the DA’s office was not what she’d hoped it might be. Kate still disliked her, Adam was...decidedly not the most professional. She rarely got to see or speak to the victims or families of the criminals they were putting away. It was all so impersonal. Lonely, like she was now.

The door to Ted’s office opened, and he entered with a sandwich in a takeout bag. “Thought you might need something to eat.”

“More like something to drink,” she grumbled, but took the food anyway. God, she was going to be in so much debt to this man when all was said and done.

When she glanced up, he was frowning at her. “You drink a lot, Dinah?”

“Please don’t start. Not you too,” she replied, starting to stand up. This had been a stupid idea and she needed to just suck it up and go back to work. It was weird being called by her first name all the time, anyway. She kept looking over her shoulder expecting her mother to be there when she knew she shouldn’t expect that ever.

“Look, I’m not judging. I know how it is. Got an injury a while back that ended my fighting career.” He gestured to the sidewall, where for the first time Laurel noticed a number of framed articles and trophies. Starling’s southpaw wins heavyweight title, one headline proclaimed. Another framed article mentioned a family being rescued from a fire by an anonymous stranger. 

She didn’t have the time to dwell on it, for Ted spoke again. “I took it hard, at first. Felt like I couldn’t do anything for anybody, much less myself.”

“So you drank?”

“So I drank. It only dulled the pain. It didn’t make it go away.”

Laurel looked down at the ground, her eyes squeezed shut. “Then what does?”

“Finding a way to keep doing what makes you feel alive. Come on, eat and then I want you to join me in the ring.”

“I don’t know how to box.”

“Yeah, that’s why I teach lessons, you know?” He smirked. “Eat first.”

She did, the headache lessening somewhat. She found a water fountain against one wall of the gym and that helped a little too. Laurel walked around various students at the bags or doing stretches, most of them male, and found Ted waiting in the ring. He watched her struggle to climb into it herself.

“Mitts,” he said once she was standing, passing her a set. She watched him put on his own and then mimicked him. “You do much fighting?”

“I took self-defense classes growing up,” she revealed. “And I’ve needed them a few times recently.”

“Alright, that’s not a bad start. But what we’re doing here isn’t some quick takedown maneuver. This is a fight. Let’s see what you got.” And then he took the first swing.

Laurel ducked, stumbling back a bit, then ducked again. He held back after that, watching her. She wasn’t about to let him keep just swinging at her, so she lunged forward. He dodged easily, bumping at her side with his left mitt. It wasn’t hard, but it still winded her a bit.

“Don’t overreach. Keep your fists up and your sides guarded,” he coached. Laurel tried to swallow around the mouth guard and did as instructed. By the time he was talking her through the combinations he’d been using, she abruptly realized her headache had dissipated on its own.

She felt way better, actually. Invigorated. She hadn’t actually known she could still feel alive after everything.

Ted was going easy on her, she could tell. It made her want to try all the harder. Even if she barely knew what she was doing. All she knew was it felt right. She felt wholly in control of her body and mind for the first time in months. Maybe years.

He called a stop after a few minutes when she was panting for breath, grinning broadly. He did that a lot. “Not bad, not bad. We can work on your form. Why don’t I show you the bags, and you can take however much time on each of them to get a feel for it?”

Laurel nodded, and this time he held the ropes up for her to help her out of the ring. They went to one of the speed bags first, as she learned it was called.

Ted was a really good teacher, she had to give him that. A day ago she would have scoffed at the idea of spending hours at a gym.

The one thing he couldn’t fix was that she was so not wearing the right bra for this. But that was a problem she could handle herself.

—-

Sara knew it was risking a lot for her to be seen out in the day, but that was something that couldn’t be helped. After Laurel had run from the warehouse, she’d assumed her father or Oliver would catch up to her and calm her down. But it had been three days, and her sister had yet to return to her apartment or her daily routine. So now she was searching.

After she’d arrived in Starling and ensured her family had made it through the Undertaking, she had found it hard to leave. Now she was glad she hadn’t. Apart from the serial killer who had abducted them, something was wrong with Laurel.

She’d heard the first scream up in the rafters and nearly panicked, thinking one of the League had finally arrived and was trying to draw her out with more of the sonic bombs she had borrowed from their arsenal. But then she’d seen the second scream for herself coming from her own sister’s mouth.

She’d seen things that were hard to believe in her time away and never thought they might come to her home. But someone had done something to her sister, and for that they were going to pay. If it had been the man she’d killed the other night, he already had.

No woman, especially one of her own family, was going to suffer as the result of some man’s experiment. Never again.

She had Sin looking on the streets while she scoured from the rooftops. So far there was no sign of Laurel. No news was good news, maybe, but she wouldn’t trust that her sister was safe until the evidence was before her eyes.

But a flash of red below her caught her eye for the moment. The boy from the other day that Oliver had sent running after her. He was hiding in the shadow of one of the buildings below her. Sara shook her head. Then she leapt to the next rooftop.

The chase continued for several minutes. Whatever she did, she couldn’t seem to shake him. He knew these streets better than her, she was forced to acknowledge. He’d probably grown up on them.

“Fine,” she muttered under her breath, taking a fire escape down into the alley he was watching her from now. Enabling her voice modulator, she thrust her staff out in front of her. “What does the Arrow want now?”

The boy watched her, keeping a good bit of distance between them. “He wants to know what you’ve done to a woman.”

Sara reared back. “What I’ve done?” The nerve Oliver had asking her that! Even if he didn’t know who she was.

“Your sonic stuff,” the boy in the red hoodie added. “He thinks there’s some kind of connection?” She could see some frustration warring on his features; obviously, Oliver hadn’t told him all the details and he wanted to know more.

But Sara had to pause as the question hit her. That scream had been like her devices, only more powerful. Was this the League? Were they punishing her for leaving by turning her sister into some kind of human weapon?

“If there’s a connection, it’s not my doing.” But it could be her fault. “I’m trying to find her the same as he is. And he can look at my record to know I don’t hurt other women.”

Sara jumped onto the lid of a closed dumpster, grabbed the ladder of the fire escape and ascended back to the rooftops.

If the League was here, why hadn’t they reached out to her first? She was sure they would soon, in order to show off what they’d done. She needed to find Laurel before any more harm came to her.

Her sister was never going to forgive her for this.

—-

Oliver paced behind her chair, which Felicity found nearly as distracting as his workouts. It had none of the side benefits, though.

“Do you think we can trust her at her word?” John asked.

“I don’t trust anyone at their word,” was Oliver’s reply, and Felicity nearly rolled her eyes. That explained a lot about his behavior, actually. “We can’t know anything for sure until Laurel is found.”

“Where could she be hiding out for this long, though, Oliver? We ran surveillance on Joanna de la Vega the last two nights and it turned up nothing. Lance has had no luck.”

“There’s something we’re missing,” Oliver said, not for the first time. Felicity largely tuned them both out, as she was in the middle of some very tricky hacking. Seriously, who knew a laboratory would have more advanced cybersecurity than the FBI!

“I have an idea!” She announced loudly, turning back around in her chair just in time to find Oliver and John glowering at each other. “If anyone would like to hear it.”

They both cooled off and looked to her. “Go ahead, Felicity,” said John.

“Well, the only thing we know is that somehow Laurel is able to scream really loud. Like, inhumanly loud. So, I have borrowed some satellites from STAR Laboratories to monitor the city for any high frequencies. If we can catch her using the scream-thing, we’ll know her location.”

“Or that other woman if she uses one of those bombs,” John pointed out.

“Either helps us,” said Oliver. “Good work.” Felicity did her best not to preen at the praise. He turned and left to change right after, then departed the base to start searching manually as he had been the last several nights. Felicity hoped Laurel showed herself soon, so that Oliver might start to focus on something other than finding his ex-girlfriend.

A beep on the computer was the answer to her hopes, and Felicity hurriedly reached for the comms. “Oliver! We have something on the corner of Farina and 7th, in the Glades.” Her fingers flew across the keys for a few seconds. “The only thing of note there is a gym, and it should be closed at this time of night.”

“Got it.”

Felicity turned to look back at John. “So, think it’s her?”

“I hope so. Whatever happened the other night with Dollmaker, we need answers.”

—-

It had taken some convincing, but Ted had gotten Dinah to join him on the roof of the gym. “Do you have a secret boxing ring up here?” She asked as they walked through the access door.

“No. But I figured this is as good a place as any for you to practice your other new skill.”

She tensed. “Ted, I don’t know.”

“Come on, Dinah. You’ve made a lot of progress already, and I don’t want to see you toss that aside because of something you’re scared of.” He really was impressed with her progress. She had a strength those skinny arms belied, even if they were working on that. Part of him wondered if there was more to his new student than her souped-up vocal chords.

“I don’t even know if I could do it again. It hasn’t happened since that night.”

“Because you’re holding back. Look, do you need to get back into some kind of zone? We can throw a few punches, see if that works.” He put up his guard and was proud to see she immediately did likewise. She wasn’t trusting him not to throw the first punch then. Stances ready, they circled each other, in tight to avoid any kind of accidents — it was a big roof, but still, best not to be stupid about it. She threw a jab that he blocked, then met with his own which she ducked under. There was a fire in her eyes that hadn’t been there the night they met, and this was the kind of thing that kept Ted going. Seeing others realize their gifts, their potential—

Someone landed on the roof in a roll, coming up onto her feet and charging straight at him. Ted only just brought up his arm to block a vicious swing of a metal staff, but it connected painfully all the same. Her next swipe took him off his feet.

“Ted!”

“Get downstairs!” He shouted to Dinah. If some crazy mask wanted to come after him, he wasn’t getting her mixed up in it. Ted grabbed onto the staff as it came down again and yanked it to the side, sending his attacker off balance. He followed it with a kick to her chest before scrambling back to his feet. She hadn’t even fallen.

“You’re going to regret holding a woman hostage,” she said.

“Hostage? Hold on, here.”

But she didn’t hold on. She came at him again and again, and Ted was nearing the edge of the roof. She had a killer’s intent, he realized, and that intent was laser-focused on him.

“Leave him alone!” Dinah shouted, and that high-pitched scream followed. The woman in the mask went flying and skidding across the roof’s surface, but Ted was knocked back.

“Whoa!” He flailed and caught the roof’s edge with his left hand, the strain of gravity on his own weight making him grit his teeth.

“Ted!” Dinah ran to him, reaching for his right to help pull him up which he gladly accepted. “God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

The whoosh of something and the chink of metal and stone was the only warning they both got before a figure in dark green and a hood — the Hood — swooped in on a freaking zip line. He caught Dinah around the waist and pulled her away. Ted only barely leveraged both arms onto the roof and kicked with his legs to pull himself back up the rest of the way.

“Hey!” Even if this new vigilante had changed his mind about killing, he sure as hell didn’t trust the guy with his student!

“Let me go, you’ve got it all wrong!” Dinah was yelling at the same time, pushing against the archer’s chest. Then her eyes widened. “Ted, look out!”

Blondie in the mask was stirring, only he realized her wig had been knocked off her head. She rose to her feet gingerly, shaking her head as if to clear the ringing that had to be in her ears.

Two voices cried out in shock in the same moment, one modulated and one not. But they both said the same thing: “Sara?”

Blondie winced. Ted looked between her and the other pair, who had both turned sharply to stare at each other in an almost comical way.

“Wait, how do you know — Ollie?” Dinah exclaimed.

The Hood or Arrow or whatever the hell he wanted to be called released her, taking a large step back and ducking his head like a boy who’d been caught stealing cookies and hoping nobody had noticed.

“Oh my God.” Dinah pressed the heels of her hands to her temples. “What is going on?”

The windows rattled slightly. She shut her mouth and glared around at both vigilantes instead.

Ted blew out a breath. This was going to be a much longer night than he’d anticipated.

—-

Laurel was going crazy. Had to be. That, or she had actually died that night by Dollmaker’s hand and the afterlife was weirder than any of the holy books claimed. But regardless, nothing seemed to be changing anytime soon and she had no idea where to start.

“You—” she looked at Oliver. Then she whirled to face her sister. “And you- you’re alive.”

Sara was staring at her toes. “I am, yeah.”

“How long have you been back?”

“A few,” Sara started, then cleared her throat as her voice had gone very quiet. “A few months. I heard about the earthquake and I- I had to see you all were okay.”

Laurel absorbed that for a moment. “And before that? Why haven’t you come home? Why haven’t you told mom or dad or me you’re alive?”

“Sisters? Geez,” Ted muttered from a few feet behind her.

“Because I couldn’t,” Sara answered. She took a step forward. “Laurel, I — the people I’ve been with, what I’ve done for them...I’m not the sister you remember. And I can’t come home. It would put you all in danger.”

There was so much she was feeling right now. Anger, joy, confusion, grief, hurt that the grief had been unnecessary. But no matter what Sara said, she had come back for them. She was her sister, and she was alive, and she’d come here to try and save her from Ted. Hilarious as that idea was. Laurel took the remaining steps, closing the gap that was between them.

“Sara, if you were in trouble, you should have come to us.”

“You don’t understand,” Sara said, shaking her head.

“I don’t have to. You’re my sister.” And she pulled her sister into a hug.

“Laurel…” Sara’s arms hung at her sides before suddenly they wrapped around her, as if she’d just remembered the action.

Laurel wasn’t sure deep down if she was totally over everything that had happened those six years ago. For one thing, she’d yet to hear an apology. But she’d forgiven Oliver. She couldn’t keep holding that grudge against her own sister. And sometimes, the only thing to do was to help, like Ted had said. Barely a week, and she was so much the better for it. If Sara could have the same—

A thought came to her, and she let her sister go before turning back to face Oliver. “Did you know?”

“No,” Oliver and Sara said at the same time.

“Actually, he thought I’d done this to you,” Sara added, sounding insulted.

Oliver grit his teeth. “I didn’t know you were her sister. I was working with the information I had at the time.”

“And that information led you both to decide Ted had kidnapped me?” Her teacher was smirking now, clearly taking his amusement from the drama playing out. Well, she did owe him.

“No one had heard from you,” Oliver said, an accusatory note to his tone that she might have yelled at except that she could see the hurt in his eyes.

“Did it occur to you maybe I needed some space? Some time to figure this out?” She asked in a measured voice instead, gesturing at her throat. “How was I supposed to reach out to either of you when I didn’t know you?”

Sara and Oliver both looked down, ashamed.

“I know I should have called dad at least,” she admitted. “I just knew if I talked to him, he’d insist on coming to get me and I- I wasn’t ready to face that. I still don’t know what to do about this.”

“You don’t know how it happened?” Sara asked.

Laurel shook her head. “I was terrified. He was going to kill me and I just- I didn’t want to die. I don’t know if that was it. I was just so tired of feeling helpless and waiting to die.” Her shoulders sagged as a weight seemed to lift off her, admitting that. “After Tommy — I didn’t think anyone cared enough to save me, and I didn’t want them to. It was my fault.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Well it wasn’t yours,” Laurel snapped before Oliver could continue that train of thought. “You were the only one trying to put a stop to the quake, and I blamed you for it when I never should’ve.”

“Maybe the blame is with the man who started the earthquake,” Ted interjected. “Malcolm Merlyn. That’s not an easy answer when he’s too dead to care, but it’s the facts.”

Laurel looked down, then met Oliver’s eyes. He nodded, something in his gaze telling her that the mistakes she’d made with the anti-vigilante task force were forgiven.

“You two gonna kiss and make up already?” Sara asked.

“Sara!”

“What? He swings into save you like Robin Hood and you’re gonna act like nothing’s going on?” She shook her head. “It’s you two, always and forever.”

Laurel’s mouth hung open, looking between her sister and Oliver. “I...am not ready for that conversation.”

“That’s fine,” Oliver said, and she thought there was some red under the greasepaint she could make out smeared over his face. He then turned more serious as he looked to Ted. “We do need to talk about what you know.”

“Hey, you came onto my roof. I didn’t ask for this,” said Ted. “But if you’re worried, no, I’m not running to the cops once you leave. It’d make me a hell of a hypocrite for one thing.”

“Wildcat,” Laurel breathed in realization. “I remember — one of my clients mentioned you the first year I started at CNRI!”

Ted shrugged, the closest to bashful that she’d seen him.

“He was a local vigilante in the Glades a few years ago,” Laurel explained to both Oliver and Sara, who seemed to relax upon hearing that statement.

“Yeah, so your secret’s safe with me. Anyway, a friend of Dinah’s is a friend of mine. Or Laurel’s, I suppose, since that’s your real name,” he added to her.

She smiled sheepishly. “They both are, actually. Dinah Laurel Lance.”

Ted smiled back. “Good to meet you properly, then.”

“Yeah, and I guess this is goodbye. I should really get back home. I need to stop running from myself.”

“You’re not the only one,” Sara said. She looked back to her sister in confusion. “I’ve been staying in one place for too long. The people I left...they’ll come here to try and get me back. And they’ll use you and dad if they can.”

“Sara, we can help you.”

Sara shook her head. “I couldn’t keep living if one of you were hurt or, or killed because of me. I have to do this, Laurel. I couldn’t handle it when I thought they’d already done something to you, your voice or...whatever caused that scream, I’m hoping you can use it to keep yourself and dad safe. At least until I can make my way back here.”

Laurel couldn’t believe she was expected to give up her sister the minute she’d learned she was still alive. It wasn’t fair. Impulsively, she hugged her again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Sara said, her voice wavering. “Always and forever.” When they stepped back, she looked to Oliver. “I’m trusting you to keep them safe, too.”

Oliver nodded. “Always. I...if there’s anything I can do.”

Her sister shook her head. “Not this time, Ollie.” She took Laurel’s hand and squeezed it tight, then let go. Taking it at a run, she leapt from one roof to the next, eventually disappearing from sight.

Laurel sniffed, trying to hold back tears at her sister’s departure. A hand rested on her shoulder, and she looked back up at Oliver, who had crossed the roof to stand with her. “I can get you home,” he said quietly.

“Thank you. Really, thank you.” She turned and slipped her arms around him, seeming to surprise him nearly as much as Sara had been with the hug. Laurel had to admit, it was strange knowing she was even hugging their city’s vigilante. But he wasn’t just that. He was so much more. “I understand better now, why you had to go.”

He drew in a breath, then put his own arms around her. “I wish I hadn’t.”

Laurel stepped back and offered him a shaky smile. Maybe they couldn’t go back. But in time, they might just be able to go forward. “Give me a minute, then I’ll be ready.”

She walked over to Ted. “So, thanks again.”

“Don’t mention it. Those clothes you showed up in are still downstairs, you know.”

She made a face. “Burn them.” There was no way she could see herself wearing them again without thinking of the Dollmaker at his hot breath on her neck...it was better to just leave that all behind.

“This doesn’t have to be goodbye, you know. You’ve only just started your lessons.”

She found herself smiling. “I’ll pay you for the rest.”

“It’s a deal.” He turned and headed for the access door. “See you around, Dinah.”

She looked at him, an eyebrow raised.

“Hey, I think it fits.”

Laurel shook her head. “If you say so.”

He headed downstairs and she walked back to Oliver’s side. “Lessons?” He asked.

“Yes. Like Sara said, I have to protect my family. And my loved ones.”

“Right,” he agreed, looking confused.

Laurel sighed and nudged him. “That includes you, Ollie.”

“Oh.” His eyes were wide, and she bit her lip to stop a giggle. “I’ll get you home then.”

She stepped into his hold as he fired off another grapple arrow, jumping with him to let it carry them across the city.

Her life was destined never to go the way she ever planned. But as long as she kept getting up to fight another day, Laurel was determined to let nothing keep her down again.

—-

As he recruited more and more of the brightest minds this century had to offer to the labs, it became harder for Eobard to slip away and conduct his daily ritual. But he always managed to do so. He was meticulous about it; the scientific method only worked if it was adhered to, after all. And his plan was grounded in science, not impulses of anger like his last plan had been. That was what had doomed him to be stuck here, after all.

This particular day, he was anxious to reach the Time Vault in order to better organize his thoughts, cast into turmoil by a piece of news out of Starling City. Professor Eobard Thawne cared little for Starling City news, but Dr. Harrison Wells hailed from Starling and as such received a copy of the Starling Gazette every morning. Eobard usually only bothered to skim the contents once a week or so to keep appearances that he was informed about the meaningless day-to-day of the 2010s, but an article from earlier in the week had caught his eye.

A serial killer had been murdered by a vigilante after abducting Dinah Laurel Lance and her father. The autopsy noted a broken neck as the ultimate cause of death, but reporters also noted Barton Mathis’ eardrums had been ruptured. There was no stated cause and, most crucially, no statement on the record from Dinah Laurel Lance.

“Good morning, Dr. Wells,” Gideon greeted him once he entered the Time Vault.

“It’s an interesting one, Gideon. Daily Log, just under fifty days before the particle accelerator is set to erupt and my experiment truly begins at last,” Eobard said, confident Gideon was getting it all down. “There has been a complication. An early sighting of one of the Justice League: Black Canary.”

Not the prototype of her sister, either. That had no consequence; Rip Hunter would remove her from the timeline soon enough. But bleeding ears meant the Black Canary herself, and the presence of her civilian identity only confirmed it.

He had further evidence. Gideon had flagged a security breach the previous night at their location in Starling. Someone had remotely accessed their satellite information to do a localized search encompassing the city limits.

And that someone hadn’t been hacking his labs’ data for just any frequency information. Someone had hacked it specifically to find the Canary’s frequency. A frequency she shouldn’t be able to achieve yet.

Or should she? The little he had read about other heroes besides the Flash from his time had never definitively stated what caused Black Canary’s sonic capabilities. He had assumed like most academics that she was a metahuman like all the rest, created in the particle accelerator explosion. But assumptions truly had no place in academics.

Was she something else? A genetic mutation, perhaps, triggered in the event of extreme stress? Or was this perhaps an anomaly, a time aberration the likes of which he had been dreading?

Eobard had kept a close watch on the timeline since the murders he had committed at the turn of this century. He’d done everything he possibly could to make sure events aligned — but then, they couldn’t align completely, could they? These changes he had made could not be stopped from rippling outward, and he was aware already of some of the effects both large and small. So far, the future had not changed too much; Crisis was still waiting for the heroes and the future waited for him. He was unstoppable, his own aberration.

Perhaps the universe had decided an equal and opposite reaction was required. Black Canary’s early presence meant an established hero for Barry Allen to look to, and Canary was notorious for having a strict moral code. If Barry became too close to her and Green Arrow, he might not be as malleable as Eobard hoped. He might even become the Flash he hated once again.

But then, that could be a gift in and of itself. It would be so much sweeter watching his hated enemy realize Eobard’s betrayal.

He’d have to keep a closer eye on the developments out of Starling City from now on, of course. “Gideon, show me results for the Black Canary.”

“Of course, Dr. Wells.”

His eyes scanned the photos, the articles. Black Canary joining the fight alongside Green Arrow, Hawkgirl and the Flash along with countless heroes. The Birds of Prey teaming up with Wildcat to stop an illegal fight club. Dinah Laurel Lance-Queen running down the courthouse steps with her new husband.

“Until we meet again for the first time, Black Canary,” Eobard murmured under his breath. “End Daily Log.”

[snarkybluechristian]

Hazbin Hotel: Yandere Alastor x Vaggie Chapter 6

Vaggie immediately tossed the shoes to the side and began running through the house as quickly as she could.  She bolted up the stairs and only allowed herself to catch her breath when she was back on the floor that she remembered her bedroom being on. As Vaggie leaned against the blood-red wall, her eyes settled on a mirror on the wall across from where she was standing.  In the mirror, Vaggie could see the bruises on her neck.  They didn’t camouflage into her purple skin at all.  The spots were dark red, fresh, and plain to see.   A shudder ran through Vaggie’s spine.  Alastor was no genius at romance, but he was right about hickeys.  They were a way to mark territory.   Vaggie covered them with her hands fearfully as she remembered her “patrons” back in El Salvador and what they did when they started getting possessive. Vaggie felt a fearful tear run down her cheek before she took a deep breath to give herself strength.  She would not be a rich man’s property.  Not again… “I don’t care how obsessed you are with me,” Vaggie said turning away from the mirror and wandering around her room searching for Angel as she briefly reflected on Alastor’s behavior. It was beyond creepy, especially that line, “Women are made to bear and so are you…” Vaggie shook her head and forced herself to focus on the task at hand.  What happened happened, but Angel still needed her help. Vaggie crept the hallway quietly listening for any sign of Angel. “Alright, if I were a freaky, sex-crazed Mary Poppins, where would I hide my victims?” Vaggie questioned out loud. Suddenly, Vaggie heard the sound of Angel’s screams coming from just ahead of her. “AHHHHHHHH!” Angel screamed out in agony before he laughed painfully.  “Oh, baby!  More!  More!” His voice caused Vaggie to shudder fearfully in her tracks as she finally found the room, twisted the knob open, and peeked inside. Vaggie held her hands over her mouth to cover her horrified gasp.   Angel was chained on a rack with his back exposed, his arms chained up, and his legs held in restraints.  The poor spider demon had scars on his back from the leather whip Rosie was holding in her hands. In a flash, Rosie lashed her whip against Angel’s bare back again causing the spider demon to scream out in agony. Rosie turned the wheeled contraption Angel was strapped to around, wrapped her leather-covered leg around his waist, pushed her chest against his, and asked, “Are you sure about that, sweetie?” “I can take anything you can dish out, lady,” Angel said before his eyes locked with Vaggie’s.   Angel’s eyes flashed in panic as Rosie’s wrinkled lips locked with his. Then Angel said, “Lady, please, this is torture…” “Oh?” Rosie asked licking Angel’s cheeks.   “Yeah,” Angel answered with a smirk.  “You pressing your sweaty, saggy tits against my bruised chest really stings!” Rosie then kicked Angel in the chest, spun him around, and began whipping him more viciously than before. It suddenly occurred to Vaggie that Angel said this on purpose so that Rosie would be distracted.  She quickly glanced around the room for anything she could use as a distraction.   Vaggie’s eyes settled on a vase on a table down the hall holding more of those blood red flowers.   The vase gave her an idea.  It was a bad one, but bad ideas were better than no ideas at all at this point.  So, Vaggie pulled out a spare knife she had hidden on her person and tossed it at the vase causing it to shatter on contact.   Vaggie then backed herself against the wall and held her breath as she heard Rosie stop her whipping and run into the hall.   When she dared to look at her, she had to keep herself from gagging.  Rosie was dressed in a leather dominatrix outfit with absurdly high stripper heels.   “Oh, Vaggie…” Rosie called out upon noticing the broken vase.  “You silly, silly little girl.  You should know better than to interrupt my playtime…” In a flash, Rosie dashed right down the hall and disappeared out of sight.   When she vanished, Vaggie breathed a sigh of relief and ran back into the room to see Angel panting in exhaustion. Vaggie quickly shut the door and said, “Angel…?” “Is she gone?” Angel quickly interrupted.   “Yes, I think so,” Vaggie said quietly. “Oh, thank God,” Angel said breathing a sigh of relief.  “I’m so glad you’re here.” “Shhh…” Vaggie said running over to the other side of the rack to look Angel in the eye.  “I’ll get you down, but you have to be quiet.  You got it?  How do I get you down from there?” “The keys are on that table,” Angel said gesturing with his head to a bedside table with a lamp and a book on it. Vaggie quickly grabbed the keys and began releasing all of Angel’s limbs from the rack.  When she was done, Angel fell forward on the ground tiredly. “Angel, are you alright?” Vaggie asked fearfully worried that Angel was injured.  “Can you walk?” “Yeah, babe,” Angel said with a smile as he reabsorbed his extra pair of arms and got to his feet while putting on his coat that was lying on the floor.  “How about you?  I see those hickeys.  Alastor must be a rougher lover than I imagined.  I’m jealous.” “It was completely non-consensual.  I assure you,” Vaggie said angrily as she began pushing the contraption towards the door to block it.  “Now, we need to get out of here before…” “There you are!” the merry British demon’s voice called out as she stopped the contraption where it stood.  “What are you doing here, Vaggie?  Did you want to play, too?  Angel and I could always use another partner…” Vaggie pushed back against Rosie’s grip before she felt Angel grabbing her arm and pulling her back behind him just as Rosie rolled the contraption across the room to get a better look at her captives. Angel stepped in front of Vaggie as he summoned his Tommy gun and his bat.   Vaggie looked around for a weapon and only found the book and the lamp, so she grabbed the lamp off the table with one hand and grabbed the book to use as a shield. “Oh, dear,” Rosie said with an amused smile.  “Do you two intend to fight back?  How adorable.  I love it when I can get down and dirty!” “Bring it on, you dominatrix bitch!” Vaggie spat back.   Angel stuck his tongue out and said lewdly, “I’m gonna screw you as you screwed me, ya crazy bitch.  I hope you’re ready.” “I think I just threw up in my mouth a little,” Vaggie said out loud.   “Make your way to the window,” Angel muttered to Vaggie gesturing his head back towards the window.  “And prepare to jump…” “Got it,” Vaggie replied with a nod. “Oh, I am so defenseless,” Rosie retorted sarcastically putting one hand on her hip and twiddling her fingers against her face with the other hand.  “What’s a little old lady to do?” Then with a snap of her fingers, Rosie summoned her umbrella and six penguin familiars and said, “Ladies, how about you show these brutes some manners?” “Bring it, bitch!” Angel yelled back as Vaggie threw open the window.  “Vaggie, grab on!” Vaggie dropped her lamp and grabbed onto Angel’s side as he dissolved his bat and picked her up with his extra arms, but unfortunately before Angel and Vaggie could jump out the window, the window slammed in their face. “Enough!” Alastor’s voice suddenly rang out.   The three demons and penguin villains turned to look at Alastor who suddenly appeared on the other side of the room.   “I believe we can settle this dispute in a more civilized manner,” Alastor said stepping between the two warring parties.  “That is if you two are willing to cooperate…” Angel reflexively held Vaggie tighter against his side and took another step backward as Alastor continued, “How about this?  Vaggie, if you stay with me, I will let this hairy mess go.  Then as long as you are obedient and loving, I will let you visit the Hotel once a month.  What do you say, dear?” Vaggie knew she didn’t have a choice.  Angel couldn’t stay there.  He had already suffered enough.  If Vaggie said no, Angel would spend the rest of eternity as Rosie’s sex slave.  Not even he deserved that. “I’ll…” Vaggie began before she felt a hand cover her mouth. “Hold it right there, bucko,” Angel interrupted as he pointed his gun straight at Alastor.  “You have to fuckin’ insane to think that I’m goin’ to just leave and let you pound Vaggie like a goddamn piece of meat.  I ain’t leavin’ without her.  And if that means I have to claw my way outta here with her, so be it.” Alastor’s eyes twitched for a brief second before he flashed a cruel smile, snapped his fingers causing Angel’s gun to disappear and Vaggie’s lamp to disappear, and said, “Suit yourself then.” Before either Angel or Vaggie had time to react, Alastor tapped his staff on the ground and instantly teleported everyone present into a dark, cool dungeon room.   The cell was built completely out of gray stone.  It was oddly spacious and horizontally long, able to hold the four demons comfortably, and that was about the best thing about it.   There were a toilet and a sink with a mirror on the back wall on one end of the cell to their right, a single bed with a bare mattress and pillow on the other end of the cell to the left, and chains hanging on the bare wall between them.   The only light sources were a lightbulb with a pull-string hanging from the ceiling and a small, horizontal window about the size of a two-by-four board above the bed where the light met the ceiling.   Iron prison bars made up the fourth wall.  Their cold, menacing, vertical poles were spaced evenly and only interrupted by an iron bar door on the very right which at the moment was hanging open with a black key hanging in the lock of the door much like it would be in jail cells from the 1930s. Vaggie and Angel looked around fearfully at their new surroundings.  The cell was oddly clean, but there were still faint blood stains on the walls where the chains were.  That was enough to make Vaggie let out an involuntary gasp. “You know, Alastor…” Rosie began interrupting the thoughts of the two frightened prisoners practically backed up against the wall as she dismissed her minions and leaned back against the prison bars.  “Vaggie hasn’t had a chance to answer the question herself.” “Hmmmmm…you’re right, Rosie,” Alastor replied with a smile glancing back at her before returning his gaze back to Vaggie.  “So, what is your answer, Vaggie?  If you stay here with me willfully, I will let Angel go, but if you refuse, he will stay and you two will both be at our disposal.  So, tell me.  What will it be?” Vaggie squirmed until Angel finally dropped her on the floor and then slowly walked up to Alastor looking him in the eye as much as her smaller frame would allow. “Vaggie…” Angel tried to complain. Vaggie held her hand up to tell Angel to be quiet and said boldly, “Alastor, I promise to spend every day for the rest of my eternal life fighting for my freedom.  I will never give in to you!” Alastor’s eyes narrowed as he said, “Well, then.  As punishment for your defiant behavior and your trespassing, you two can spend the night in this cell…” Alastor, Rosie, and Rosie’s minions instantly teleported outside the cell.   Alastor quickly locked the door, took the key, and continued, “Rosie and I will come for you in the morning, Vaggie.  Have a good night, you two!” The Radio Demon quickly right down the hallway out of sight.  Rosie stood there for a second quietly flashing a cruel smile as her familiars disappeared before finally following behind her friend. Vaggie stood in place tensely as Angel laid himself out over the bed and stretched out his limbs. “Well, looks like you and I are spending the night here, Vaggie,” Angel said nonchalantly folding his arms behind his head on top of the pillow.   Vaggie didn’t respond but continued staring at the hallway in front of their cell. A look of concern flashed through Angel’s eyes before he said, “Hey, doll?  Vaggie?  Are ya there?” Vaggie finally looked over to Angel. The spider demon tapped the old mattress and said, “What do you wanna do, doll, the day is still young?” Vaggie tiredly sat on the bed next to him holding the book on top of her lap and sighed.  She glanced over to Angel and cringed when she noticed him staring at her with a smirk. “Why are you staring at me like that?” Vaggie demanded. “You still owe me,” Angel said playfully. Vaggie looked at Angel in confusion until she finally had her revelation. “Oh, my God,” Vaggie said in growing annoyance. “What?” Angel asked playfully. “You only stayed here because I owed you?!” Vaggie yelled. Angel sighed with a playful smirk that got on Vaggie’s nerves and said, “It beats the therapy sessions back home.  Besides, this was too good an opportunity to pass up, babe.” Vaggie took a deep breath to calm down and conceded, “Okay, fine.  What the hell do you want?” “Just give me a moment to…” Angel said nonchalantly allowing himself to wonder before he got his idea.  “Wait.  I know just the thing!” Angel sat up, threw off his coat to reveal his bare chest, posed dramatically, and said, “I want you to snuggle between my fluffy tits!” “WHAT?!” Vaggie asked incredulously.  “You can’t be serious!” “I’m completely serious,” Angel said playfully running his gloved hands through his chest fluff.  “My skin under my fur gets cold.  I need warmth.  Think of it as my way of saying thanks.  I don’t let anyone do it for free.  My customers say it’s like heaven in here.” “Forget it,” Vaggie said in annoyance putting the book at the head of the bed next to Angel’s pillow and laying down so that she was not facing him.  “I’ll just use the book.  I’m not resting my head on your STD-contaminated fur.” “Hey!” Angel retorted.  “I’ll have you know that I wash it every day.  But if that’s how you feel, babe, suit yourself.” Vaggie laid down for a few minutes but very quickly got uncomfortable.  She turned over and stared at Angel’s chest longingly.  His fluff looked so soft and silky… “Like what ya see, hon?” Angel teased. “Fine,” Vaggie snarled as she reluctantly sat up and climbed on top of Angel’s chest.  “But this never happened.  Understand?” “Whatever you say, hon,” Angel retorted playfully as Vaggie slowly lowered her head onto Angel’s fluffy chest.   Vaggie lowered herself gingerly as if she were getting used to hot water in a bathtub. Angel rolled his eyes and used his lower pair of arms to push Vaggie’s head on top of his chest.   “Angel?!” Vaggie yelled in protest before her head sank into the chest fluff.  “Oh, my God.  This is so soft…It feels like cashmere…” Angel chuckled as his lower arms pulled his coat over Vaggie and himself to keep them warm. “That’s it, doll,” Angel said soothingly as his arms rested on Vaggie’s back.  “Just relax.  We both need this.” Vaggie tensed up again as she began to realize the gravity of the situation that they were in.   Vaggie began shuddering fearfully and taking shallow breaths, but before it could get any worse, Angel started rubbing her back.  He didn’t say or do anything else.  He just rubbed her back until her breathing finally returned to normal. Angel then took a deep breath and picked up the book next to his head.   “What’s this?” Angel said before he read the title.  “The Taming of the Shrew?  Oh, my God!  I haven’t seen this one in decades!” Vaggie lifted her head up and scowled. “That book again?” Vaggie asked incredulously.  “Dammit.  Alastor tossed me that fucking book yesterday to entertain myself while he ran off to talk to Rosie.  The nerve of that guy.  What’s that book about anyway?” “It ain’t a book, doll,” Angel replied excitedly turning open to the first page.  “It’s a Shakespeare play.  We read it in school.  Oh, God, this one was one of my favorites!  It’s been forever.  Want me to read it to ya?” “We still have daylight and we’re gonna be stuck in here until tomorrow morning, so why not?” Vaggie conceded. “Alright,” Angel said excitedly.  “I’ll try to explain all the stuff that’s kinda confusin’, but just let me know if you’re having trouble followin’ along.” Vaggie smiled and relaxed into Angel’s fluff as he began reading the story. 

[chloedeathmedia1-blog]

Men In Black 3 Film Sheet

Director: Barry Sonnenfeld

Year  Released: 2012

Main  Cast: Will Smith, Tommy Lee Jones, Josh Brolin, Jemaine Clement, Emma Thompson, Nicole Sherzinger, Michael Stuhlbarg, Alice Eve, Bill Hader, Mike Colter, Michael Chernus, Keone Young, Rick Baker, Cayen Martin.

Sub  Genre: Science fiction-action

Budget: $225 million

Gross: $559.4 million

Synopsis: Alien criminal Boris "The Animal"  escapes from a maximum-security prison on the moon and comes to Earth in  search of Agent K, who captured him and put him behind bars in 1969 - Wiki

Mise-en-scene: Underground place to begin with- we assume  this is here the bad characters stay. This is enhanced by the scary face on  one of the characters (Collider). Nicole Sherzinger’s character comes in in a  short, tight, revealing leather dress (stereotypes…) carrying a pink cake  with roses on- contains a spider sort of creature which goes into a man with  no eyes and scary teeth’s hand (literally under his skin and he says “you  complete me” to it. He goes outside and we find that they are on the moon-  the scary male character goes near the American flag which we know Neil  Armstrong put there, and says “lets rewrite history”. It zooms right out so  we can’t see him anymore, it pans over to the earth and the title is shown. Will Smith’s character (Agent J) is in a  black suit and tie and has black sunglasses. He starts off talking in front  of a group of people in a city location. Him and Agent K drive off in a posh  black car. A woman, who has a long green tongue, grabs  Agent J’s hand to stop him shooting. Agent J ends up in the mouth of a fat slug  scary character with too many teeth. After spraying mustard in its nose, it  sneezes him out and he crashes through a window outside, back with Agent K  and they face Collider who wants to kill them both. Agent J is in a white office with a woman  who we assume is the leading agent, and they are surrounded by spy  intelligence. When Agent J goes home, he’s playing on a  games console, on the floor in front of a bed with black bedding on and a big  picture of a pug on the wall. He gets a phone call from a man in an office  who has a cord phone and is sat in a brown chair in front of a bookcase,  there is a fireplace with a big open flame in there also. Drinks chocolate milk out of a yellow baby  bottle which he took off a little girl living at house 5K. Chocolate milk  seems to become an important thing. Swearing is something that occurs quite  frequently. Artificial intelligence and blue holographic  screening. At the top of a building, standing on a  stick out pole ready to time travel to save Agent J’s partner who died 40  years ago. He wants to travel back to 1969. He jumps off it and a Wall street  crash newspaper hits him in the face, he lands on the floor and is back in  1969. Funfair in 1969 which Collider is at. Agent  J gets shocked and then wakes up in a lab where loads of alien creatures. A man gets hit over the head with a bowling  pin. Agent J rips off his head and uses it as a bowling ball.  A party in white place and a man releases a  ton of butterflies. Stereotypical women’s role, in a café  wearing a yellow maid outfit. Collider meets himself in the past and they  end up arguing and making scary noises at each other. The man with the red hat turns out to be  some sort of artificial intelligence man- he has a hole in his head and a  blue light where he would have a brain if he were a human. Dark city, street lights are focussed on in  the background behind Agent J and K (the man Agent J time travelled for). At the top of a crane, Agent J, K, Collider  and Collider’s younger self are fighting, both Colliders fall off. Agent J  comes off in a zip wire cable car. All the hands come out of Collider’s face  and Agent J shoots and kills him. Agent J has a flashback and is stood at the  top of the building again. Zooms back out into space, a satellite blows  up and the title screen shows.

Sound:  Begins with loud drums and a saxophone to  create tension. Gun sounds, sound arcade-y though, not real.    A woman screams. Trumpet, violin and drums get increasingly  louder. Slapped across the face by his boss. Slowly increasing violin sounds when Agent J  has a lightbulb moment. Common spy theme tune. Cricket sounds when it’s night-time- city  nightlife and countryside mix. Stood in a cricket match arena as well. This  man who had the red bobble hat was stood there watching a match on his own. Tense non-diegetic sound when Agent J is  chasing Collider. Agent J got slapped across the face twice  (once for lying, the other for telling the truth) by K, the friend he time  travelled to find. “New York” song plays when Agent J has a  flashback back to standing at the top of the building in New York.

Camera: Two shot mid shot. Low angle shot looking up at Collider- power  and threatening. Closeup shots of characters- waist up. Over the head shot of Agent J and the other  man who are stood on the top of the building. Low angle shot of Agent J when he jumps off  the building. Point of view shot when he’s in the car that  he stole. Over the shoulder shot on a conversation  between Agent J and another man with a red bobble hat on. Two shot of Agent J and K going up a lift  really fast. Uses the rule of thirds.