Falling by (Thuyhn)
IS IT SPRING YET?
Falling by (Thuyhn)
IS IT SPRING YET?
Private Eye was too polite, too paltry and simple a name for what Sara Lance was. The men in her field simply called her “vengeance”, she did right by her clients by whatever means necessary and didn’t let a little thing like blood on her shoes sour her milk. Her father was on the force, a detective but with the chains of the law binding him at the wrists. Laurel, her sister was making her way through the ranks as the sole woman at the DA’s office by taking no prisoners, dodging bullets, and taking the right names. Sara was lurking in allies with bruised and bloodied knuckles, taking photos in cars, and charming her way into every bar in town to get what she needed.
Sara would take any case, not because she was wanting for cash, but because it was right. So when a pretty little thing in a gray jacket with a head full of gorgeous white-blonde hair, and tears in her eyes walked in the door, begging for help finding her missing boss, she was all eyes and ears.
Sweet Jesus, I’ll take more of this, please.
New chapter posted!
With thanks to @slowdancinginasundrenchedworld for her excellent dialogue recollection. And @carolinas-dreams for confirming it
So good. Need more. Especially Diggle and Felicity being friends. Damn it, Hari, I love this so much.
You should all read it.
Don’t worry, anon, I got you. I was having trouble getting this drabble going so I asked for prompts to help get the creative juices flowing. It helped. This and the next drabble will be very loosely connected. This would be set in the show in the not too distant future, perhaps after a big showdown with Slade and while Oliver and Sara are still dating. Would love some feedback.
"So, why do you wear the wig?" Felicity asks, pointing at the item in question.
"It’s part of the disguise," Sara replies.
"But you’re already blonde," Felicity says and turns from the case in the foundry basement that houses Sara’s uniform to look at her. "Not much of a disguise. Why not brunette?"
"It’s not really about hiding," Sara explains and stands from Felicity’s desk chair. "Nobody finds out who I am unless I want them to. It’s about the ritual."
"What do you mean?" she asks and leans on the side of the case and Sara follow suit.
God, I would love to be loved or love anyone as much as these two love each other. If that makes any sense.
Should have the first (Smoaking Canary) posted by the end of the night.
This guy. In related news, I almost had a heart attack today.
I swear Arrow fans, you slay me. Last time people sent in pretty fluffy, hetero stuff, mostly under their own blog names. This time it’s all threesomes! and like everyone is on Anon and the prompts are super detailed. You wonderful little deviants.UPDATE: NO LONGER TAKING PROMPTS.
And Moira was all about it. I was dying.
Hit up my ask to throw me one.UPDATE: NO LONGER ACCEPTING PROMPTS.
As before, dealer’s choice. Smoaking Canary, Olicity, Steroline, whatever you want. I’m going to keep this open for a much shorter time though. And I will only except prompts sent through my ask.UPDATE: NO LONGER ACCEPTING PROMPTS.
(shhhh i took away the drunken part for 2/3 of this)
(also it got angstier than expected oops)
Sara thought the first time had been an accident.
Vigilante business had been slow and with a thunderstorm coming through, the crowd at Verdant had been sparse. Felicity had spent the evening showing her a mixology app, and Sara had crafted dozens of different drinks, the two of them (and occasionally Thea and Roy) slamming shots and cocktails back as they’d judged the concoctions.
The cab drive home had been uneventful even as a tipsy Felicity had babbled stories in a stage whisper, as if the cab driver would have been really outraged about the time she’d gotten pantsed in sixth grade.
The door to Felicity’s apartment had barely closed before Sara had felt soft lips pressing against hers; the action had been so unexpected, she hadn’t had time to think her reaction through - she’d just instinctively kissed Felicity back.
When they’d broken apart, Felicity’s eyes wide had stared back at her.
“Are you drunk?” Sara had asked.
“Not anymore,” Felicity had replied.
They hadn’t made it past the couch that night.