#if anyone in the party actually dies next week though I will riot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

raywritesthings · 5 years

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Out of the Dark

My Writing Fandom: Arrow, The Flash Characters: Laurel Lance, Barry Allen, Oliver Queen, Sara Lance, Adam Donner, Thea Queen, Felicity Smoak, John Diggle Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: On his way to the train station out of Starling City, Barry Allen comes across a Laurel Lance who has reached her breaking point. An offer of friendship changes the course of events in unexpected ways. Notes: WARNING - Suicide Attempt and Discussion of Suicide. If you or someone you know is feeling suicidal, especially as the holidays approach, please don’t hesitate to reach out, whether to a friend or a professional or an organization. The International Bipolar Foundation, for instance, contains a list of suicide hotlines for a number of different countries on their website. *Can be read on my AO3 and FFN, links are in my bio*

A small commotion near the entrance of the offices caused Laurel to look up, the first time she’d done so since arriving that day and most of the preceding week. Keeping your head down after losing a huge case was standard protocol, after all.

“Adam! Good to see you!”

“On your feet already?”

“This is just a visit,” said Adam Donner, her immediate superior. “I wanted to let you all know I was doing fine before the holidays.”

The holidays? It was really that time already, wasn’t it? She’d completely forgotten. Not that it mattered much; she had no plans.

Laurel stood, smoothing down her skirt as she went to join the small crowd of her coworkers. As awkward as things had turned the previous month with the dinner they had shared, she didn’t want him to think she was upset to see him recovered from the Count’s attack. “Adam, I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Thanks, Laurel. Hey, uh, good try on the case.”

Her attempt at a smile turned to a grimace. Every time she thought of Moira Queen’s trial it brought a queasy mix of emotions. Frustration, guilt, relief and even confusion.

“It was open and shut,” a voice near the back of the crowd muttered and a titter of laughter went around the room. There was the shame in that mix, too.

Of all the things she had left to hang onto, it was her skill at her job. And she had let an accomplice to the murder of 503 people walk. It didn’t matter that a part of her was glad; the law had required her to do her job and she had failed. They all knew it.

“I hear Queen’s having a big party for his mother tonight. Figures they’d want to gloat,” said another coworker.

“It’s not to gloat, it’s just their holiday tradition,” Laurel couldn’t help disputing. Oliver would never do something that brazen, at least, not the Oliver who had come back the previous year from that island.

“Yeah? Guessing you didn’t get an invite this year.”

Another round of laughter went up.

“Alright people,” Kate Spencer’s voice announced her arrival. “Adam, thanks for coming in. My office, we’ll talk about the next assignments coming through.” Their boss walked away, not even sparing Laurel a glance. Kate had never liked her, even back when Laurel had been at CNRI.

She returned to her own desk, trying to shut out the whispers that followed, that had been following her the last several days. Why had the Count chosen Adam of all people to attack? Why couldn’t he have been the one to question Moira on the stand, to help shoulder some of this failure?

Or maybe he wouldn’t have failed. That thought seized her heart in an icy grip. Then Oliver and Thea would be planning a memorial service instead of a party. Neither of which she would ever be welcome at again.

She understood. How could either of the siblings want anything to do with her after what had happened in the courtroom? Even if Oliver had checked on her after, that was probably just out of courtesy. They’d promised to stay in each other’s lives — he’d promised to never leave even when that was all he ever did — but it couldn’t stand something like what she’d done. It was better that he just give up now. She’d rather just get it over with.

Laurel worked until it was dark. It was mostly just moving folders around and filing notes. She hadn’t been given anything serious to do since the Queen case, and she doubted she would be for some time. She’d joined the DA’s office because she’d seen it as her best way forward after losing CNRI, but each day it grew harder to get out of bed in the morning. Once the people who shared the open floor in her office had all signed out and left for the night, she got out the bottle she kept in her desk. It was easier to just have it on hand, especially since her father had been snooping into her business and was on a first name basis with almost any bartender in Starling City. Even if he was conveniently forgetting why that was in his pursuit to police his own daughter.

Why couldn’t he understand what she was going through? If anyone should, it would be him. She hadn’t seen him since that bizarre visit he had made to her apartment going on about her becoming a parent some day. Laurel snorted before finishing her glass. Like that was happening anytime soon. Or ever.

Kate’s door opened and Laurel hastily stashed the bottle away, almost fumbling the cap. Adam was the only one who emerged, and he blinked in surprise at her.

“Burning the midnight oil? It’s nearly Christmas.”

“Crime never sleeps.”

“Yeah, but you should. Come on, you can walk me out.”

With little room to say no, Laurel stood, hesitating when he held out her coat for her to step into. She couldn’t exactly snatch it from his hands, however, so she let him help her with it.

“There should be a taxi waiting for me. Doctors say I should wait a few more days before operating heavy machinery,” he told her. “Do you need a lift?”

“No, thank you.” Laurel hadn’t brought her car — after being stopped by that cop, she was a little leery of driving — but she did not want to confine herself to small quarters with Adam.

He favored her with an understanding smile. “Hey, we all have our early losses. It’ll all blow over. We’ll find something new to work on.”

Laurel nodded with a tight smile. A taxi pulled up to the curb.

“This is me.” He leaned to the side of her then, and she jerked back just as his lips barely brushed her cheek.

“Sorry.” Why was she apologizing?

“No, that’s alright. I didn’t mean — well, it’s the holidays. Merry Christmas, Laurel.”

She couldn’t answer him, her mind stuck on a Christmas only a year ago where a different man had kissed her cheek and wished her well for the holidays. It didn’t feel like a year ago; it felt like an age.

The taxi honked, and Adam got inside. It pulled away, leaving her out in the cold.

Laurel started walking, though not back to her apartment. She didn’t feel like going back there right away, disgusted as she was with herself. How many times had she represented women who felt uncomfortable in their workplace because of coworkers or superiors, and now here she was stuck in the same trap? Too scared to say anything for fear of losing the only purpose she had left. Assuming she would ever be given anything of purpose again. Her mind was chasing itself around in circles.

She didn’t want Mrs. Queen to be dead, but she wanted the city to feel that justice had been done. She wanted justice for Tommy.

But then, Moira Queen hadn’t helped to kill Tommy. Tommy was only gone because of her. Even her father hadn’t disagreed with her about that. He hadn’t said a word.

Laurel sagged against the railing she’d been using off and on to support herself. It was only now that she realized she was on the footpath of one of their bridges, heading towards the Glades. Maybe she could sneak into the Verdant for a drink while Thea and Oliver were both celebrating with their family and friends. Her father probably wouldn’t find out if she’d been there.

Was this what her life was now? Skirting around the corners of the people she knew and cared for? Stuck on the outside while they moved on with their lives? They wanted her to be happy like them, but she just couldn’t be. What was wrong with her?

Her hands found a little latch, and she stared at it for a moment. Someone had hitched a lock onto part of the railing. There were a few of them, actually. One was painted with a fading heart.

Oh. She remembered hearing about these. Love locks. She studied each one intently. Some were plain, some had pairs of initials written or painted on them. Little mementos to love that these people had.

She thought of Tommy, his declaration and the suitcase he’d packed anyway. She thought, too, of a tear-stained letter sitting in a drawer at her apartment. Never doubt my love for you. Oh, but she did.

Oliver had called her a hero, but he could see now she wasn’t. When had she ever really saved anyone? It was always someone else coming in, having to help her. The Hood, who probably hated her; her father, who was disappointed in her; Tommy, who had died because of her.

“I’m so sorry, Tommy,” she whispered to no one. Her head rested on the rail and she stared for a while at the water rushing by below. There was something almost hypnotic about it, knowing where it flowed out into the bay and joined the ocean, to the same water that had swallowed up Sara. The daughter who had died while she was the daughter who lived.

Lived instead of Sara, lived instead of Tommy. And for what? It would’ve been better for her to perish in the quake, or maybe at the prison riot or when the Triad had attacked her home, so she wouldn’t have broken Tommy’s heart. Maybe she should have been the one on that boat so her mother wouldn’t have felt so guilty and left, so her dad would still have his baby girl and not felt such a need to drink, so she wouldn’t be carrying this terrible guilt and loneliness within her heart.

She’d been drowning all these years anyway in those swirling dark depths.

Laurel lifted her head from the rail. The night air was whipping her hair around her face, but it was as if the chill couldn’t touch her now. Could she really just…?

What else did she have to lose? She swallowed, the film of alcohol feeling thick on her tongue. What left was there? She could wait around and let herself be shunned out of the DA’s office by Kate Spencer and her disapproving looks or by Adam when she turned him down one too many times. She could wait for her father’s mood to turn sour towards her again, as it always did ever since the Gambit had sunk. She could wait until Oliver felt like trying to talk to her again, those quick little bursts in between days or weeks of nothing, like she was a pot on the stove he checked every once in a while to make sure it didn’t boil over.

She was tired of waiting for things. Tired of everything. Laurel couldn’t see any other way forward, not on this cold December night.

It didn’t even enter her mind to leave a note. No one would find it for days, probably. And they just wouldn’t understand. Oliver had fought all those years to survive and come home. There was something I wanted more. He didn’t want her anymore. No one did. How would he understand her choice?

They could all pretend she had just slipped away quietly from the city. No body, no need for her dad to pay the funeral expenses. He was making less on a beat cop’s salary. Better for him not to have to buy the land for another empty grave. Better for everyone. It was her Christmas present to them all; not to have to deal with her anymore.

She stepped onto the lower half of the rail, her left heel getting caught in the spokes. Growling under her breath, she wriggled her foot around, trying to free it. She couldn’t take the shoe off: evidence.

Her hands gripped the rail, pulling herself up. The water was a roar in her ears drowning out everything. Even a distant shout.

“Hey!”

Laurel closed her eyes.

And then she was abruptly seized from behind.

—-

Barry was running late, as always.

After Captain Singh’s rather pointed phone call, he had left Felicity behind at Queen Consolidated to try and catch a train out to Central. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to make it, especially since he’d so far failed at flagging down the few taxis he’d spotted. Hardly anyone was out tonight, and why would they be? It was late, dark and cold, and the holidays were nearly upon them.

Barry was forced to revise his statement as he drew up to an intersection leading to a bridge. There was someone else out tonight besides him after all. A woman, standing at the railing and looking out at the water. Actually, she was very close to the rail. Almost too close.

She put her foot up onto it, and it clicked in his brain.

“Oh no,” Barry said to himself, and then he started running, his suitcase forgotten.

“Hey!”

The woman didn’t even startle at his shout. She was half leaned over the rail already.

With a burst of speed he hadn’t thought himself capable of and a stitch developing in his side, Barry cleared the footpath and raced down to the middle of the bridge. He did the first thing he could think of, which was to throw his arms around her middle.

It was maybe the wrong move.

Immediately she tried throwing him off her with a surprising amount of strength for someone so thin. It was all he could do to hold on so as to keep her from toppling over.

“Let go!”

“Sorry, really don’t want to do that!”

An elbow smashed into his face, narrowly missing his nose where it no doubt would have broken it. Barry staggered back but managed to keep his grip on the woman, with which his leverage was able to do the rest. She came off the rail, falling in a heap on top of him as he landed on his back in the footpath.

Her head lifted, eyes bleary and bloodshot. “What? Who- who are you?”

“Are you okay?” Barry asked once he got his breath back. He struggled to sit up. “Well, no, you’re not. But I meant, you’re not hurt?”

Her head shook slowly. Her breath smelled of alcohol, and he could tell now looking at her facial structure that she really was too thin.

“Can you tell me your name? I’m Barry,” he added, figuring it was best he went first.

“Laurel,” she answered.

“Laurel,” he repeated, “hi. Can you, um, tell me what you were doing out here? I mean why you wanted to…” Barry cringed at his own inability to say it, but her eyes followed his to the bridge railing.

“I, um. I was just…”

Like a switch went off in her brain, she was suddenly clinging to him desperately.

“I don’t know what I was— I don’t want to die, oh God!”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he did his best to reassure her. Truthfully he felt incredibly relieved she’d come to that decision on her own.

“I don’t want to die, I just- I just wanted everything to stop,” she cried into his coat. Barry rubbed at her back and tried to think of something more meaningful to say.

“I’m sorry things are — well, you’re clearly having a rough time. Can I get you to somewhere? A family member or, or maybe the hospital?”

“No.” She shook her head and clutched onto him tighter. “I can’t— if my job found out, they’d put me on leave or suspend me. And I can’t put this on my father, I can’t.”

“Okay,” he agreed, hoping to calm her. “We don’t have to go anywhere.” She was shivering in his arms, though. “Maybe just somewhere to sit down? Come on.”

Barry helped her up and kept their arms linked as they walked off the bridge and back to the intersection. His suitcase had fallen onto its side, so he righted it and started wheeling it along behind them.

“Don’t you need to find a hotel?” She asked quietly, her voice sounding thick but her tears at last subsiding.

“No. Actually, I was on my way home.”

She looked back in the direction of the train station. “But you’ll miss the last one.”

“I probably already did. It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

He walked them around in circles a few times before finding a tiny cafe with their ‘open’ sign still lit up. Barry ushered her inside and to a table. He ordered a black coffee for her and a latte for himself, figuring she needed about as much caffeine as possible to fully sober up. She didn’t complain when he passed it to her, at the least, just cupped her hands around it and stared into the dark liquid.

“How much was it?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

She frowned didn’t argue. He must have been firm enough, or maybe she was just too overwhelmed with the choice she’d almost made. The latter sounded more believable.

Barry sat and sipped at his latte, watching for her to do the same with her coffee. She grimaced as it went down.

“Sorry.”

“It’s not the worst cup I’ve had,” she remarked. Then her lip trembled and she grabbed a napkin to wipe at her eyes with. “God, you must think I’m a basket case. You really don’t have to stay with me.”

“Well, I think someone should,” he told her honestly. “And you won’t go to your family, so it may as well be a friend.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to be my friend.”

“I feel like there’s gotta be someone in your life who would tell you that’s not true.”

She placed her coffee down and rubbed her hands over both temples. “The people in my life...they come and go when they feel like it. Or, um, when they need something. And I finally got sick of it, so I just pushed them all away. It’s not really their fault,” she added when he opened his mouth. “I’m not an easy person to be around, I guess. I’m emotional, clingy, stubborn. I take on more than I can handle, and then I need rescuing.”

“Have they said that?”

“Not in that many words. But I know there’s something wrong with me.” She said it so matter-of-factly it stunned him. Then, past the shock there was pain. How could someone have become so convinced of something like that?

“Would you still believe that once you’re sober?”

She exhaled on a shaky laugh. “I wish I could say no. I wish I could say I wouldn’t have done, well, that either. But I have a problem. I do, I can’t just ignore it anymore.”

“You said you wanted everything to stop,” Barry reminded her. “Is there a lot going on in your life right now?”

“Yes and no,” she sighed. “I, um, lost someone. Last spring in the Glades.”

“I’m sorry.” Barry had watched the news coverage. So had everyone. It had been hard to conceptualize that much destruction but now he was faced with the aftermath on an intensely personal level.

“It was...it could have been avoided.” Her gaze was back on her coffee cup. “And afterwards, I thought maybe I could keep going. I had, um, well I thought I had something with an old friend. But he left, and when he finally came back I just pushed him away. I pushed everyone away. And I don’t know how to fix that.”

“Well, maybe you should take some time off. I know you’re worried about your job, but it’s around the holidays anyway. You could take a couple days and just figure things out. Maybe visit somebody.”

She shook her head. A smile that was bitter twisted her lips. “I don’t have anyone to visit.”

“No extended family? College friends?” Barry wasn’t ready to give up trying.

“Just a mom who lives in Central.”

He face lit up with a smile. “Hey, that’s my city!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! And it’s great there, especially around the holidays. They put a big tree up and the streets are all lined with lights. There’s a lot to do.”

“You work for the tourism board or something?”

He grinned. If she wanted to make jokes at his expense, that was fine. Joking was much better than the defeated tone she’d had before. “Nope. People from out of town say we’re all like this. Have you been to your mom’s?”

She shook her head.

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

“I only found out she was staying there less than a year ago,” she told him. “It’s a long story.”

“You seem to have a lot of those.”

She let out a watery chuckle, wiping at her eyes. “Yeah.” Her hands came away stained with mascara. “Do you mind if I go to the ladies’ for a second?” She stood up, but paused at the table. “I promise I’m not gonna do anything stupid.”

“Okay,” Barry agreed slowly. He wasn’t an expert in this, but he thought he ought to show her some trust. She stood up on much steadier legs and went down the little hallway in the back. Barry hunched over and placed his head in his hands. Breathing in and out helped to bring down the stress he’d barely been hiding.

He knew, of course, this sort of thing happened. Especially around the holidays. Officers at the precinct trained for it, how to de-escalate the situation and keep the person from doing harm to themselves. He had no idea if he was following the right protocol, and despite the late hour he badly wanted to call Joe for some advice.

Barry checked his watch as the barista went into the back storeroom for something. It had been a few minutes. Should he check on her? Listen at the door? Was that wrong?

His worrying abruptly cut off when, out of nowhere, a dart embedded itself into his neck and he lost consciousness.

Barry awoke in a chair in a darkened room, Felicity Smoak swimming into view in front of him. “Wha—?”

His head jerked around. There was Oliver Queen’s bodyguard and something on a table. Rows and rows of green-tipped arrows. The Vigilante. This had to be his base.

But where— what had happened to Laurel? How long had he been out? Had anyone checked on her? Oh God—

“Barry.” Felicity had stepped forward and forcefully took hold of his hands to redirect his focus. “Please save my friend.”

Her friend, as it turned out, was Oliver Queen. Oliver Queen, as it turned out, was also the vigilante.

The next several minutes were a blur. Oliver was close to death, and the only treatment available was risky at best. The rat poison got him to stop flailing, thankfully, and after a while his vitals came back stable.

“Okay. Keep monitoring him,” Barry told Felicity and Diggle. “I just have to go back—”

“Back where?” Felicity cried. “Barry, we found you in a cafe instead of the train station. Would have taken us forever by the way if I hadn’t pinged your phone.”

“You pinged my phone?” Barry blinked. That wasn’t important right now. “Okay, well there’s sort of an important—”

“This is important. This is Oliver’s life we’re talking about here!”

“What if he starts seizing again while you’re gone?” Diggle pointed out with a frown.

Barry deflated. He didn’t want to have to choose between two people, but the likelihood Laurel was even still at the cafe was probably slim. And he couldn’t exactly explain to the other two the situation; they clearly hadn’t seen her and might not even believe him. To their eyes, it probably looked like he was trying to sneak away so he could tell the authorities about all of this.

So he slumped back into his chair.

Oliver eventually woke up and was remarkably rude for someone who’s life Barry had just saved. Then he and the others still needed help tracking down Cyrus Gold. When Barry did finally have a quiet moment to himself, he jogged back to the little cafe. There were other patrons there now, but no Laurel. He jogged over to the bridge and didn’t find anything of note there either, though if she had come back here hours ago...his insides squirmed.

Barry was called back to administer a test on Oliver’s blood to see if anything was still in his system. He worried over both problems for a time, occupying his hands with molding a mask out of tripolymer fabric for Oliver.

There was nothing in Oliver’s blood but he still had to go face Cyrus Gold a final time. Barry’s phone had been going off with calls and texts from first Joe and then Iris, which he couldn’t really ignore forever. He finally left Felicity and Diggle in their base and got on the train, getting out his Harrison Wells biography to try and clear his mind.

Had he done enough? Did Laurel really believe there were things or people in her life worth going on for? What if he’d failed?

These worries plagued him through the whole day. He couldn’t come up with anything substantial to tell Iris about his trip. He couldn’t stop the guy who stole her purse and got hit in the face for his trouble. He could barely concentrate on the coverage of the particle accelerator on the news in his lab.

Instead, he took out his phone and dialed Felicity to let her know he’d made it back and to inform her about the gift he’d left behind for Oliver. Though as he thought about the vigilante, an idea came to him.

“Actually, if I could ask Oliver a favor?”

“What kind of favor?”

“It’s a personal one.” He didn’t exactly feel comfortable relating something so sensitive through a game of telephone. “Could you give him the phone?”

“Okay,” Felicity said after a short pause. He heard her calling to Oliver, slightly muffled.

A few moments later, he heard the man’s voice. “The favor?”

Right to the chase, okay. “Um, yeah. I was hoping you could — I mean, I know it’s not really your area of what you normally do with your night job and it might be a little hopeless—”

“Barry,” Oliver said, indicating he was meant to wrap it up.

“When Felicity and Diggle went to get me, I was in a cafe.”

“They told me.”

“Right, well I was there instead of waiting for a train because I- I met somebody. Somebody who was having kind of a rough time. And I’m worried about her.”

There was a pause. “Barry, I’m not really sure what you’re asking me to do here.”

He dragged a hand through his hair in frustration. This was a lot harder to just come out and say than he’d thought. “I’m asking you to find out if she’s okay, because when I met her she was trying to go over the bridge, Oliver.”

“Oh.” It was more a soft exhalation than the word itself. “I’m sorry they pulled you away from that.”

“Yeah, well, you did need medical attention. I just didn’t know how to find her after, and I guess I’m hoping you can.” Maybe the Arrow wasn’t most people’s first choice to run wellness checks, but Barry felt Oliver did truly care about the citizens of his city. Even if he hid that under a hood.

“Did you have her address? A family contact?” Oliver asked only moments later, proving Barry right.

He shook his head, then realized that wasn’t very productive. “No, she was pretty adamant not to involve her family. Her father, she said that specifically,” he remembered. “I wish I’d been able to get a picture of her for you or something, but I only have the name she gave me: Laurel.”

The line went dead silent on the other end for a long moment, long enough that Barry lifted the phone away from his ear to check if the call was still going. It was. “Oliver?”

“You—” Oliver had to pause and try again; his voice had cracked. “You’re sure she said Laurel?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I have to go.” There was a sound on the other end, some kind of muffled thump and then Felicity’s voice rather close calling Oliver’s name — he must have passed the phone back to her.

“Barry, what’s going on? Why did Oliver say Laurel’s name?”

“Uh…” He wasn’t sure what to say in the face of evidence that Oliver and his team knew a Laurel. Was she the same one Barry had met? The same lonely, desperate woman who didn’t seem to think her loved ones would have missed her much or cared? What did that say?

“It’s probably best he tells you,” Barry eventually decided. It wasn’t his place. At the least, Oliver knew exactly how to find Laurel and could make certain she was alright. That eased some of his worry. “I should get off the phone.” He was waiting on Joe’s call for a ride from the precinct, after all. “Goodbye, Felicity.”

She said her goodbye as well, and Barry put away his phone. Maybe now his conscience would be eased, especially if Oliver let him know what he found out.

Of course, Barry would end up having to wait a very long time for that.

—-

Oliver changed and left the base without opening Barry’s gift or answering either of his team member’s questions. There was only one thought in his mind: she was trying to go over the bridge, Oliver.

His heart was in his throat as he reached apartment 305 and knocked on the door. “Laurel? Please, if you’re at home, can you open the door?”

He couldn’t hear anything. Oliver took out his phone, noticing one missed call from Felicity already. He ignored the notification and instead called Laurel’s cell phone.

After a few rings, it sent him to her voicemail. “Hi, this is Laurel. I’m either at work or otherwise unavailable. Leave your name and number with a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“Laurel, it’s Oliver. Please call me.” He didn’t bother with his number. He knew she had it.

When a second round of knocking at her door produced no response, he went to the outside of the building and it’s fire escape. This was the first time he’d ever entered this way without his vigilante suit on, but he’d explain himself after he saw her.

Except Laurel wasn’t home. He couldn’t find anything out of place. There wasn’t any food sitting out abandoned or something big and obvious missing. It just looked like she had stepped out for some indeterminate amount of time.

Like forever.

He was dialing her number again before he realized, and it rang and rang. Ringing was good. It meant her phone was on and working. It wasn’t broken in a fall or dead in the water.

“Still Oliver. Just, whenever you can, Laurel, please.”

He took his bike over to the DA’s office, but it was clear at this time of night, no one was there. All the lights were off. He still slipped inside to have a look. Her desk was tidy. It didn’t look like anything was wrong.

But Laurel didn’t normally have a tidy desk. It was covered in papers and post it notes and pens, some of which bore bite marks on the lid. A tidy desk looked normal on the outside, but it spoke of something wrong to someone who really knew her.

Just like Laurel’s behavior had been the last two months. He’d tried to push his worries about it aside when she pushed back. He’d told himself he it wasn’t his place. Lord, what had he done?

His phone rang, and he scrambled to pick it up. “Laurel?”

“No, Felicity. You know, the girl you left behind in the base along with John without any kind of explanation?”

Oliver grit his teeth as he walked back out to his bike. “I don’t have time.”

“We’re your team, we’re supposed to help you when you don’t have time. So what’s this about Laurel? Is she okay?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted in a small voice. “I can’t — can you trace her phone? I have one more lead I can follow.”

“Okay,” Felicity agreed, though he could hear her frustration at not being given the answers she’d wanted. He just couldn’t say it out loud, he wasn’t ready to put the words out there. To possibly make them real.

Oliver parked his bike outside of Starling General, sneaking his way past the front desk to head up to Lance’s room. He already knew the location, having visited him as the Arrow only hours ago. Hours that could have been crucial to someone they both cared for. Hours they hadn’t realized they were taking for granted.

Whatever guilt he felt about possibly waking the man up dissipated when Quentin Lance immediately blinked his eyes open at his entrance. His injuries were likely making sleep hard to come by. The guilt returned tenfold.

“...Queen? What’re you doing here?” There was confusion more than anything in his voice.

“I’m sorry, Officer Lance. I just was wondering if you’d seen Laurel in—” his heart dropped as he realized just how long it had been since he’d seen her himself. “—the last week or so? I wanted to see how she was doing. I know the holidays have been, uh, hard for you both.”

Lance snorted, or tried to. “Yeah, this one’s not looking to be any better. They called her after I was checked in. She’s my contact. They said she was having trouble getting here. Something about a train.”

“A train?” Oliver couldn’t help the sharpness in his voice. What would Laurel have been around a train for, unless—?

“Yeah, they said something about it...you alright?”

“I— yes, I’m fine. Thank you, Officer Lance.”

“Yeah, well, never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad she’s got you looking out for her.”

Oliver could only offer a tight, closed-lipped smile that probably barely passed muster before fleeing the room.

He hadn’t done enough to look after her. And he could blame her anti-Hood stance or the court case against his mother all he wanted, but in the end he’d asked Laurel to be in his life without really offering her the same. He’d been a coward, too afraid she might judge him for the mistakes he’d made since coming back from the island. With each mission he took on at night, each secret he kept, it became easier to just hold her at arm’s length. He hadn’t meant to, but he’d left her all alone.

Had he left her to drown?

Oliver stopped outside the hospital, leaning against the wall and sliding down to sit, his head in his hands. He couldn’t bare the idea of checking, of calling it in. What it would do to her family and to him. He couldn’t lose her like this, God. He wasn’t sure if he was pleading or praying.

His phone rang twice before he had the presence of mind to pick it up. “...hello?”

“Oliver, you sound terrible. What is happening?” Felicity demanded.

“Did you find something?” He asked, wiping furiously at his cheeks wet with tears.

“I did. I’m just not sure — her phone says she’s at the Central City train station.”

It took a moment to process. “Central?”

“Yes.”

The nurses had told Lance something about a train, that she was having trouble getting to the hospital because of it. Ticket trouble. Or scheduling. Something gloriously mundane.

Just as his heart started to beat normally again, Felicity continued. “But it’s not a good place to be right now. I checked the news. Oliver, the particle accelerator that launched tonight exploded.”

“Exploded?”

“The whole city’s lost power. I- I can’t reach Barry,” Felicity added in a trembling voice. “He’s just not answering.”

The same way Laurel wasn’t.

Oliver took a deep breath and pushed up onto his feet. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

“Oliver—”

“I’m going there.” If Laurel was there, then that was where he needed to be. He hung up, neither ready nor willing to participate in a drawn out argument.

Barry had talked Laurel out of it, that much was clear. For that, he would always be grateful to the scientist, no matter what had become of him in this explosion.

But Laurel’s fate may still have been cruelly decided. A chill that had nothing to do with the December air went through him at the thought, sinking into his very bones.

He had to get to her. Do whatever he could. Try, completely this time. He might never get the chance again.

—-

Laurel groaned as she sat up, trying to shake the ringing in her ears. It nearly covered up the sound of approaching sirens, but then as those got louder they blended together making everything hurt worse.

She had to laugh at herself. She really did have the worst ideas. The laugh turned into a cough as she rubbed at her throat. Ugh, why did that have to hurt, too? She must have really shouted when that train…

“Never listen to a Jiminy Cricket before Christmas,” she managed to grumble to herself.

At least, that’s what she’d decided the tall, lanky man named Barry had been. A figment of a Good Samaritan she’s made up for herself, who had disappeared the minute she had turned her back with only a half-drunk latte to prove he might have once been there. It could have been anyone’s, really. She’d been half-drunk when they’d stumbled into the little shop.

Laurel had chosen to take Barry’s advice and get out of her normal routine for a couple of days. She hadn’t said anything to anyone before packing; in the sober light of day, she was ashamed and terrified of what she had almost done and knew the others would feel the same with a healthy dash of disappointment. She just had to keep moving, even if nothing ever got better.

Laurel had packed an overnight bag and boarded an early train to Central by the time Thea’s text had come through asking if she could stop by the house to help her and her friends with something. Laurel had felt a pang of regret but written back that she wasn’t able to for a couple of days. Thea had said that was fine and wished her a happy holiday. Laurel had been glad no one she knew was around to see her eyes water at that simple sentiment. Thea probably hadn’t known just how much that meant to her.

She’d arrived in Central in daylight, so the strings of lights down the streets had not been lit. Still, for a city, it held the feel of a small town somehow, everyone smiling and happy. She’d found herself able to breathe easier because of it. At least until it had started to get dark and she’d known she needed to either find or hotel or head to her mother’s.

Laurel had the address written down on a scrap of paper from one of the last times they’d talked. If she’d gone there, would she have been able to tell her mother what had almost happened?

It hadn’t come to it. She had gotten a call.

“May I speak to Dinah Lance?”

“This is her daughter,” Laurel had responded automatically, her mind having still been on her mother.

“We have a Dinah L. Lance listed as the emergency contact for Officer Quentin Lance?”

“Oh! Yes, that’s me. You — is this the hospital?”

“Yes. Your father was admitted early this evening due to sustaining injuries in a raid. He’s in surgery.”

Laurel’s hand had gone over her mouth. “Will he be alright?”

“He came in in better condition than some of the other members of the unit,” the desk nurse had told her. “The doctors will know more later. You’re welcome to come wait to speak to them.”

Laurel had looked around herself, feeling totally helpless as she’d admitted. “I’m six-hundred miles away. I- I took a trip.”

Why did every decision she made end up hurting someone she cared about?

“That’s alright. We’ll let him know.”

“No, tell him I’m on my way back. I’ll be on the next train, I promise.”

She’d hurried back to the train station, finding it full of last-minute travelers for the holidays. After standing in line for what had felt an age, it had finally been her turn.

“I need a one-way ticket for the first train that gets to Starling.”

“You missed the previous one by fifteen minutes,” the person at the booth had informed her, and Laurel had barely held in a curse. “Next one comes in an hour.”

“Okay, fine, that one. Please.”

She’d stood on the platform with a handful of others, her arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently. A television mounted in one corner near the ceiling had displayed a news woman in what had appeared to be a growing storm outside.

“Wait, we're now being told to evacuate the facility. The storm may have caused a malfunction to the primary cooling system. Officials are now trying to shut down the particle accelerator, but so far, have been unable to regain control of the system—”

Abruptly, the TV and then the lights had cut out. Yelps of surprise and alarm had gone up throughout the building.

There’s been a tremendous boom from outside, and Laurel’s hair had stood up on the back of her neck.

The horn of the approaching train had been a loud blare as it had turned the corner into the station, driving blind in the total dark. Laurel had been jostled as people had pushed at each other in a blind panic to move as far back as possible. She’d tripped and cried out as a strange, translucent ripple of something had knocked into her, throwing her off her feet, and then—

She’d woken up on the same train platform.

“Alright, folks, the generator should kick in in a minute,” a voice called out. Flashlight beams danced over them all. Then there was a flicker and a hum, and Laurel was blinking back spots in her vision from the sudden flood of light.

“Any more injuries?” The same voice asked next.

Laurel looked herself over. Aside from the soreness and the ringing that was slowly fading away, she didn’t think she needed a hospital. One leg of her pantyhose had scraped in the fall; they resembled fishnets more than anything else.

Laurel heard a new ringing, this time coming from her pocket. She took out her phone, surprised to see the notification that she had four missed calls already and two messages. The fifth call was still was still ringing: Ollie.

Laurel hit the accept button and cleared her throat. “Hello?”

“Laurel!” It was a shout, but not one of anger or frustration. She wasn’t sure the last time she’d heard Oliver sound so relieved and overjoyed at once. “Oh, thank God.”

“Ollie?”

“Are you still at the train station?”

“I — how did you know that?”

“Laurel, where are you?”

“Yes, I’m at the station. In Central City,” she added, though for some reason he seemed to already know that.

Her suspicion was confirmed when he said, “I’ll be there in eight and a half hours.”

“Why?”

There was a pause. “Laurel, there was an explosion.”

“I know that. I just—” It didn’t make sense, how intensely he cared and then the distance he would immediately put up after. “I’m okay. I just had a fall.”

And her throat felt funny, but that was likely a cold more than anything.

“Get checked out at the hospital.”

“Oliver—”

“Please? I’ll cover anything your insurance doesn’t.” He really was pleading, she realized. He was borderline hysterical.

“Okay,” she agreed hesitantly.

“Thank you. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I — please stay safe.”

He hung up. Laurel sat there, blinking at her phone, until a man in a paramedic’s uniform came over to her.

“You alright, miss?”

“I think so? My, uh, friend thinks I should head to the hospital. I fell when the power went out.”

He nodded. “Alright, we’ll make sure you get checked out.”

Laurel was taken over to Central City General along with a number of others. A small clinic-style area had been set up to one side where a nurse shined a light in her eyes and had her follow her finger around.

“Any headache or nausea?”

“Not really. Just a sore throat.”

“Hm.” The nurse got out a tongue depressor and looked in her mouth with a flashlight, then felt around her throat. The nurse stepped away after that, leaving Laurel a clipboard with which to fill out her information. She did so, pausing at the spot where an emergency contact was meant to be filled in. Her whole life, she’d put down her father’s information, but with him already in the hospital it made little sense. She thought of putting her mother, but the poor woman didn’t even realize Laurel was in the same city right now.

In the end, she wrote down Oliver’s name and number, glancing around furtively as though someone was about to pop up and judge her for it. He already knew she was here, had insisted on it himself.

The nurse came back after a time with a harried-looking doctor. Laurel had to wonder how busy they all were and why they were bothering with her at all.

“You came in here with a sore throat you say you weren’t experiencing before the explosion?” He asked her with no preamble. Laurel nodded. He took his own turn examining the inside of her mouth and feeling around her neck. “Could be strep. You might have gotten it before and only noticed the symptoms now. Vocal nodes is unlikely, but we’re perhaps not quite able to rule it out—”

“Vocal nodes?” Asked an unfamiliar voice. Laurel turned her head to see a man in a wheelchair roll closer to her cot. He had rather piercing eyes behind his glasses. “A very interesting theory and result if true.”

Her doctor gave an uncomfortable cough. “Dr. Wells, you really shouldn’t be up so soon.”

Dr. Wells tipped his head in acknowledgment of that. “Forgive me. I couldn’t lie still in bed knowing what my mistake has cost so many people. I thought if I might be able to make myself useful…”

“That’s quite alright,” Laurel’s doctor said with a fair amount of force. “I’m very sure it’s strep.”

“All the same.” Dr. Wells took a card out of his pocket and set it on the end of Laurel’s cot. “If you find yourself in need of any assistance, Miss- ah—”

“Lance,” Laurel filled in for him.

“Of course.” A smile curved his lips and his eyes practically seemed to glint. “Miss Lance. My lab would be happy to do whatever we can.”

“Thank you.” Laurel picked up the card. She’d surmised as much, but the STAR Labs logo beside his name confirmed this was the scientist who had set off this whole disaster. Laurel pocketed the card, internally making a note to stay about as far away from someone that crazy as possible.

With another smile, he moved on towards the ICU, judging by the signage on the wall.

Her doctor shook his head. “I suggest you see a primary care physician about prescribing you an antibiotic for strep.”

Laurel nodded. “Am I free to go?”

“If you aren’t experiencing any other trouble, yes.”

Laurel slid off her cot and took her bag with her out to the waiting room, sitting amongst worried family members and friends of the patients still being treated. The mood was somber, with some being shown to rooms and others leaving in tears as the hours passed.

Late in the night or perhaps early in the morning, she saw an older officer enter and head to the desk, visibly distressed.

“I’m looking for Barry Allen.”

“Barry,” Laurel muttered to herself. Not the most common name, and a Barry in Central City? She started to stand.

“Laurel!”

Laurel jumped, turning back to the doors. “Oliver!”

He’d said eight and a half hours. It had been seven. She had no idea how fast he must have been going to shave down that travel time, or how he’d avoided getting ticketed at all. Oliver was in front of her in the next instant, pulling her into a hug so tight she forgot to breath for a moment.

“Thank God,” she heard him murmur again into her hair. Then his lips pressed to the top of her head.

“Ollie, I- I’m really fine.” She pulled back to look at him, surprised to see tears in his eyes. “Are you fine?”

He swallowed, shaking his head. “Am I— I’m sorry. So sorry. I knew you weren’t okay, and I should have done more. God, what could have happened.”

Laurel’s heart dropped. The way he was talking, it was almost like he knew. “Ollie, how…?”

“Barry told me.”

Her jaw dropped. About a million questions occurred to her in that instant. How had Barry figured out who she was? Why had he contacted Oliver? How had he contacted Oliver? Barry was even real?

“I could have lost you,” Oliver was saying.

Laurel’s throat felt like it was burning, but she knew it had little to do with any illness. “Please, not here.”

He looked around the waiting room, as if noticing all the other people for the first time. Some of them were staring while others were still lost in their own troubles. Oliver collected himself and then nodded, leading her by the hand out of the hospital.

It had stopped raining, at least, and wasn’t as cold as she might have thought. Or maybe that was the heat in her cheeks as she cast a glance at him. “I told him not to tell anybody.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried enough that he heard her.

“He didn’t know we knew each other,” he said.

Laurel raised an eyebrow. “Then why tell you at all? How would you have even met him?”

Oliver sighed. “That’s...that’s a long story. One I should have told you a long time ago. I’m so sorry.”

Her hands curled into fists so that her nails dug into the palms. “Why are you apologizing? This was my fault. Nobody told me to- to climb up onto a bridge railing and almost — how can you even look at me knowing I almost did that?” He was supposed to be furious with her. Not this. She didn’t know how to deal with this.

“I’m not going to judge you, Laurel. I would never judge you for this.”

“Shouldn’t you? It was so stupid.” Her eyes squeezed shut. “I’m- I’m a mess or broken or something. I have to be.”

“I nearly killed myself on the island,” he stated, point-blank.

She looked back around at him, a sharp pain in her chest. “What—”

“One of the people that tortured me,” he told her quietly, never breaking eye contact. “He left me in a cell with a gun. I was drugged and in pain, and I couldn’t see a way out of it or how coming home would be of benefit to any of my loved ones. I thought I would only ruin them. And I picked up the gun.”

He’d told her once there’d been times he had wanted to die. To know he’d come so close to acting on it...Laurel took a step closer. “What stopped you?”

“You,” he answered simply to her shock. “I saw you. A few times, actually, over those years. But you spoke to me. You told me that if I ended it there, then the people we both cared about who had already died, it would have been for nothing. And that you and my mother and Thea needed me to come home.”

Laurel’s eyes were stinging. It hadn’t been real, of course. They both knew that. But to know that she had mattered that much to him, that the semblance of her presence could pull someone back from the brink, it was almost too much.

“You’ve been through so much. So much more than me.”

He shook his head. “You’ve been through more than people realize. My pain, it’s easy for people to see. They see the scars, they know about my time away. I was on an island and, for the most part, so alone. But you...Laurel, you’ve been surrounded by people and yet you’ve been just as alone as I was.”

“Some of that was my fault,” she insisted. “I could have reached out or listened. I do have a problem, you and my father were right.”

“But we didn’t reach you. That’s the thing. In my darkest moments, you’ve been there for me. And I haven’t been there for you.” His gaze was shame-filled now. “I left you on your island, and I went back to my own.”

“I haven’t really been there, Ollie. You imagined me. The real me, I’m—”

“Damaged. We both are,” he agreed. “But maybe we can finally help each other for real.”

He seemed so earnest and sure. She wanted with all her heart to believe him, but the doubts still nagged at her. “You really mean that?”

“I do.” Oliver took her hands. “I know you have every reason not to trust me. That’s okay. I’m going to do whatever it takes to prove it to you. Just promise me if you ever feel the way you did that night, if you ever start thinking that way again, you talk to someone. It doesn’t have to be to me. Just someone.” His eyes were practically begging her. “We all care so much about you, Laurel. I couldn’t imagine it if we lost you.”

There was a lump in her throat now that she swallowed down. The pain she’d been feeling there seemed to be lessening as well, or maybe she just was feeling too much right now to really pay it any mind. “I promise. The same goes for you.”

Oliver let go of her hands, only to cup her face and kiss her forehead. Laurel stood there, loosely gripping his forearms and letting the moment simply hang in the air between them.

“I promise,” he echoed.

She nodded and finally stepped back. “I was trying to get home to see my father. He’s in the hospital.”

“I’ve seen him. He’s stable, but it’s going to take some recovery,” he told her, a frown pulling his lips down. Some of that shame was back in his eyes. “We’ll take the first plane out of here so we can get you there.”

Laurel accepted his arm but kept hold of her bag as they started walking away from the hospital. “You’re not paying for my ticket.”

“I’m insisting that I do. Please? I lost track of the time and couldn’t really get gifts for anyone this year.”

The corner of her mouth turned up. “Well, then I’m buying your ticket since I forgot presents this year too.” They didn’t really touch on why; that for one terrible night she’d thought she wouldn’t be around to give them.

“Actually, I’m asking for your company at the Verdant for my Christmas gift. No drinks, I promise,” he added.

“Then why?”

“There’s a lot I want to tell you. And show you, if you’ll let me.” The completely serious look to his face and tone of his voice let her know this was absolutely not some kind of come on. A part of her was relieved; she was not in the right frame of mind for that kind of thing. “I think it should help us both.”

“Okay, then. I’ll be there,” she agreed after a moment. Then Laurel hugged his arm. “Merry Christmas, Ollie.”

He smiled for her, not the playboy smirk or CEO grin. Just Oliver. “Merry Christmas, Laurel.”

If she’d known a year ago at that party with Tommy just where he life would have ended up a year from then, she would have never believed it. A part of her still didn’t. But there was no going back; only forward. Whatever it took, she and Oliver would do it together.

—-

Nine months later

Barry had a lot to process upon waking up from a coma that had lasted the better part of a year. STAR Labs and Dr. Wells were in disgrace, Iris had a boyfriend and only just when he’d finally gotten abs. Even if the reason why was almost impossible to believe.

But the impossible was exactly what he’d been looking for.

Barry had been disappointed when Dr. Wells shot down his idea to help protect the city from the emerging metahuman threat as Cisco and Caitlin had helpfully explained to him the term was. On top of that, Joe was angry at him for insisting Clyde Mardon was still alive and had weather-controlling powers. So he’d decided to seek out another source for advice.

He hadn’t really known what Oliver would say when he’d called him up, but the man had directed him to meet him on top of a roof in his home city of Starling. With his new powers, Barry had actually made it there just ahead of the archer, who came to stand there in his suit and the mask Barry had made for him.

He then explained his situation as best he could without getting bogged down in the details. “I know it sounds crazy,” he admitted, even if the one case he’d helped Oliver on had involved an out of the ordinary situation of its own.

“Not as crazy as you might think,” Oliver replied. The cryptic response had Barry raising his eyebrows. “I know you’re right about the explosion causing people to exhibit abilities. The man who was making the Mirakuru found that out the hard way when he tried to abduct Laurel.”

“Laurel!” Barry blurted. It all came back to him in that moment, the bridge and the cafe. He felt incredible guilt for not thinking to ask before. “You found her? She’s okay?”

“Yeah. She’s doing a lot better,” Oliver told him, and his face lit up with a smile Barry had never really seen on the archer’s face before.

“So, you do know her?” It had seemed that way based on the vigilante’s reaction during that phone call they’d had all those months ago. Barry could only be glad he’d chosen the right thing to do.

“Yeah, we’ve known each other a long time. Actually, we, uh, we made things official last month. Again,” the archer muttered. If Barry wasn’t mistaken, there was a redness under his scruff.

He was too busy beaming to care. “That’s great! I’m so glad to hear that.” Nine months really could change things! Barry was happy to finally hear about something that had decidedly changed for the better.

“Yeah. She wanted to meet you up here, too, when you called, but her sister’s in town. They’re probably about fifty rooftops that way,” Oliver said, pointing out across the city.

“That’s great,” Barry repeated, still grinning. He’d known there had to be people in her life who cared! Something Oliver had said occurred to him, though. “Wait, Laurel has powers?”

Oliver nodded. “We think so. She took your advice about a trip to Central and was there when the particle accelerator exploded.” Barry winced, but Oliver continued, “It might have ended up saving her life. We’ve been testing it on our own for a while.”

“In the field?”

Oliver nodded. “That’s why I know you’re cut out for this life, Barry. With your powers, you and Laurel can do things I could never hope to. You can be better than me, for your city. Watching over it like a guardian angel, making a difference. Saving people in a flash.”

Barry left the rooftop in much higher spirits than when he’d arrived. For the heck of it, he sped over in the direction Oliver had indicated Laurel might be in; a part of him wanted to see how she was doing for himself.

As Barry ran, he noticed a couple odd things happening ahead of him. There were two people on a rooftop. Two women in fact, but neither Barry recognized. One was a blonde in black leather. The other was younger and had dark hair hidden under a hood and a quiver of arrows. In slow motion, he watched her fire off three in quick succession towards the blonde woman, who stood there defenseless.

The lightning he was only just starting to really understand flickered behind his eyes, and Barry raced forward, pushing the blonde out of the path of the arrows. He turned back and faced the brunette, who immediately took a swipe at him with her bow, her eyes hazy and unfocused.

Barry didn’t quite dodge her swing and he landed hard on the roof’s surface, the wind knocked out of him. “Come on, come on,” he wheezed, trying to figure out how to access his powers once again.

“What the hell!” The blonde exclaimed. She rolled onto her feet first, charging the brunette who had nearly aimed an arrow at Barry in the meantime. He watched as they exchanged a series of punches and kicks, seemingly evenly matched. “Thea, why are you doing this?”

“Sara!” A voice called in the distance, one he thought he recognized. Hurried footsteps clanged on metal. A fire escape, he realized dimly. “Get back!”

A high-pitched scream the likes of which he’d never heard pierced the air, as over Barry’s head the air seemed to ripple in waves with the sound. The blonde had leapt back out of the way, leaving the brunette — Thea? — to get knocked onto her back by the force of it. Barry looked back towards the source just as the sound cut off.

He was met with the sight of a far different Laurel than the woman he had met. Her hair was a much lighter shade, for one thing. She wore a jean jacket, flannel shirt and dark pants rather than the more formal pantsuit and coat combo she’d had on the last time. Her face had a healthy fullness to it and there was strength in her stance.

The woman he had met hadn’t known how to go on living; this woman was very much alive.

She ran to who was obviously her sister. “Sara! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Thanks for the help. And thanks to that guy, even if I have no idea where the hell he came from.”

Laurel looked around at him and her eyes widened. “Barry!”

“Hey. Just wanted to say hi while I was in the neighborhood.” He accepted her hand to help get back onto his feet. “Wasn’t really expecting a fight.”

“Well, I’m glad you found it,” she remarked. Her gaze landed on the attacker next. “Thea...I don’t understand.”

The sisters stood over the unconscious woman — closer to a girl, really, with her small build and delicate features. Barry came over and crouched down, lifting one of the girl’s eyelids. “She’s been drugged. Did you see? She was totally out of it.”

“I thought she was sober,” said Sara.

“She is. Or she’s supposed to be,” Laurel answered. “Oliver hasn’t heard from her in a bit since everything with Moira…”

The sisters exchanged a solemn look. Then Sara’s expression darkened further.

“It’s gotta be Merlyn.”

“Malcolm?” Laurel asked in surprise.

“That’s why I’m here. The League received intelligence he survived the Undertaking, and Ra’s wants proof. I’m supposed to find him so he can be brought back to answer to his violations of the League’s code.” Sara looked over at him. “I think you saved me from some kind of setup.”

Barry’s posture straightened slightly. Maybe slightly on accident, he’d already started to prove Oliver right.

“We need to get Thea to her brother,” Laurel decided, scooping the girl up into her arms. Sara took possession of the bow and quiver of arrows Thea had been carrying. Then Laurel cast him an apologetic smile. “I wish we had more time to talk.”

“That’s okay. We can catch up later,” Barry told her. “You have enough going on. And I have to be getting back.”

They shared a nod, each knowing what wasn’t being said. That there would be time to talk. Much more time.

Barry left Laurel standing on a rooftop, no longer worried about his new friend. She’d found her way out of the dark.

#lauriver #laurel x oliver #laurel lance #barry allen #oliver queen #arrow #the flash #green arrow #black canary #my writing

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bucky-iss-bae · 5 years

Text

Little Miss CEO - (Billy Russo x Reader) - Part 6

Part 6 of Little Miss CEO - Hope you all enjoy x

Fandom: Marvels The PunisherBill

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Word Count: 1500ish (Sorry it's short compared to other parts)

Warnings: Ever so slightly underlinings of sex, but honestly nothing at allll maybe a few swears.

Summary: Billy and Y/N get set up by their friends, but they clash heads more than they get on. He thinks she’s a gold digger bitch and she thinks he’s Mr Obnoxious, are either of them, everyone else thinks that they’re too stubborn for their own good and probably get on.

A/N: Hope you all enjoy, any feedback is welcome x Sorry for taking like a month, it’s been written and honestly should’ve posted this long ago, but yeah, I got catching up to doooo

Masterlist

Little Miss CEO - Part 5

Part 6

It didn’t take long for Frank to move in with Karen and I. It was weird, don’t get me wrong, but I’m happy for them. Happy that they’re both happy.

Billy and I spent more and more time with one another, I know I like him. A lot more than I realised, the way we interacted, I mean most days after work we met in a bar. He was sat there in his suit, and if I had a day of meetings, and getting to know new clients I was also in more professional attire. Otherwise, I just got changed in my office.

I enjoyed his company, heck there were even times when we went back to his but never went back to mine, Frank and Karen were literally like our parents. But one thing that we hadn’t spoken about was about what we are.

We were at his place, both laying in his bed, I mean his apartment was just something else, all in a good way of course. I had my head on his chest, and his arm around me, “Billy” I started,

“Y/N” He replied back in a similar tone, aside frmo his had slight amusement to it,

I let out a small laugh but sat up to look at him, “What are we?”

He looked at me, his eyebrows knitted together, “Well... I don’t know. What do you want to be?” he asked me.

I scoffed and sat up to look at him, “Well we sleep together, spend any free time together, I mean I know that I like you, it depends on how you feel I guess”

He looked like he was deep in thought before he answered, “I’ve never been in a relationship.” He told me. “Not with real feelings. The only relationship I’ve ever had is Frank and Curtis as my brothers. I’ve used girls, slept around with them, but a relationship... is something new to me” He said I listened and nodded to what he was saying before he looked at me, “I feel like this is different. You’ve understood me as a person. Treated me as a person, never have you looked at different because of my past, instead, you’ve provided comfort in a way I haven’t realised I’ve needed. So to put it in simpler terms, I do like you Y/N. A lot. These last few weeks, aside from our first meeting, you’ve made an impact on my life for the better. And I misjudged you far too quickly not realising we would be where we are now”

I smiled at that, “You know, considering you’ve never done this before, you are good at it, I’ve got to say. I mean there are the flowers, let’s not forget the random lunches. But I hate to say, I feel like we’re too old to be using terms such as girlfriend and boyfriend if that’s where we’re headed?”

Billy laughed at this one, “Wow I mean I’m sure the term would then be partners? Or I don’t actually know. Also, are you forgetting about the times when you bring me lunch in my office?” He asked,

“Yeah, but let’s be real that’s when I’m in the neighbourhood, or close by, or when I don’t have any clients booked in, or when I’m bored”

“Mhmm, and what do you have booked in tomorrow?” He asked,

“Just a few meetings.” I told him, “They all finish at 12, and then I’ll have the whole weekend. Aside from my sister's party, so only Sunday. What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Well, I’ll be meeting you for lunch at 1pm should we say? Gives you time after your final booking?”

I let out a small laugh, “1pm sounds good. Also, you’re going to hate me, but on Saturday, are you still alright with coming with me to my sister's party? I don’t mind if you don’t want to”

He let out a laugh and I felt his chest vibrate, “Of course, I’ve booked out my whole weekend for it”

“Really? But good, because we need to get there early”

“We do? Why?” He asked,

“Well... my sister wants me to get there early to help her with a few small things. Not much really. About half an hour before everyone else gets there, at least this way you get to meet her properly”

He nodded, “As long as she doesn’t mind that I’m with you of course I won’t mind”

“She’s got the purest heart. She’s the youngest out of us, and she’s achieved so much in her life, and she’s the smartest by far”

“Senior surgeon you said right?”

I nodded, “Yeah, she’s married with two kids and got a perfect job she enjoys”

“Didn’t realise she had kids. How old are they?”

“4 and 8. I told him, they’re excited because they’ve finished setting up their rooms and things like that. Got told they’re giving me a tour when I next see them

“How old was she when she had her first?” He asked, “Especially because you said she’s a senior surgeon, must’ve been hard work, wow”

“She didn’t. They’re adopted” I told him, “They’re brother and sister, they’re her husband’s nieces and nephews though. Their biological mom is a substance abuser. Their dad died in service, so their dad's brother, my sister’s husband fought to adopt them”

“Wow” He breathed out, “That’s amazing. Makes me happy knowing that kids like that have people there for them. Where about are they from?”

“They’re from Harlem. And yeah, she didn’t hesitate to take them in. Their mom didn’t care either, and they’re best friends with Kai’s kids. They all run a riot together”

“You know, I hate to admit this, but I’m nervous. Probably more so about meeting your brothers”

“Nothing to worry about,” I told him, “Kai, he can get on with anyone. He’s easier to get along with than Tommy is. Tommy has always been looking out for me more than he realised. I mean he was 15 when he put that other guy who fucked me over out. Not a lot of 15-year-olds would go up against an 18-year-old” I said.

“This makes me more nervous, so he was 15 and managed to fight kids who were a few years older than him. Then he was in the Navy, and now the CIA. He’s gotta know about my past. I think I’m happy that Kai was a marine though, that’s something in common, a big something”

I laughed, “Stop stressing. Come on Russo, thought you were supposed to be a big strong guy”

“Thanks for the support” He snorted,

I just lent up to kiss him which he gladly accepted.

I picked Billy up the following day at 12pm, the drive to my sisters was nearly an hour as she lived on the outskirts of the city. She wanted everyone to be there for 2pm, and I would be getting there for about 1ish, depending on traffic.

Billy came out wearing Dark Blue Jeans, a dark grey polo along with a leather jacket. And damn did he look fine. He was dressed down from his usual suits, and although he’s always looking amazing, he looked just as good in this.

“Hey babe,” he said getting into the car and kissing me, “You alright?” He asked,

I could tell that he looked a little nervous, “I’m good. Perfect actually. How about you?”

He grimaced and looked at me, “I don’t know. Didn’t think I would be this nervous you know. Also I mean you already know I’m strappin’ wherever I go. Do I gotta lose this or something?” He asked moving his jacket back,

I snorted, “You literally have it whenever you come to mine, whenever you go to the bar, and wherever you go. You really think me saying no to you taking it to my sister’s house will make a difference?”

“I don’t know if it would make them hate me even more, and there’ll be kids around. Does anyone know that I’ll be joining you? And am I party crashing, fucking hell, when did I turn like this?”

I just smiled at him, “Billy, you’ll be fine. I promise. We won’t even need to stay that long, I said that I’ll be leaving early anyway”

“And she doesn’t mind that I’m joining you?”

“Well... she doesn’t really know,” I said to him,

His jaw dropped, “Fuck off. I thought she knew that I would be joining you. I’m not going to just turn up on your arm out of nowhere!”

“She said that I could bring a plus one, sometimes I take Karen, other times I stay at hers the night before and just host rather than join, and she knows about you. Kind of.”

“Okay,” He said nodding, “Ok cool. How does she know about me?” He smirked,

“Well... first she asked if I was dating? I briefly mentioned you. And then you know how I sometimes take a picture of the food I’m eating and post it on snapchat or something, well she saw your hand and watch in the background. And she sent me at least 100 messages that day while we were eating” He started laughing at this,

“Ok then. She definitely knows. I just hope they don’t hate me. The news didn’t really portray me in the best way”

I just smiled at him, “You’ve really got nothing to worry about” I reassured him.

He took a deep breath but nodded both of us changing the subject.

Little Miss CEO Part 7

Tagged List for ‘Little Miss CEO’

@thebabblingbookworm @bilesxbilinskixlahey @utterlyhopeful

If you want to be tagged in any of the remaining parts, send a message my way xoxo

A/N: Only two more parts leftttt, then I’ll be adding in random bonus chapters for the fun of it, I’ll make this its own master list just so it’s a bit more organised hope you all enjoyed, and feedback is more than welcome xoxo

#Billy Russo #Billy Russo Imagine #Billy Russo x Reader #Billy Russo x You #Billy Russo x Y/N #Billy Russo Fic #The Punisher #The Punisher Fic #Little Miss CEO #Marvel #Marvel Imagine #Marvel Fic

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jonmoxleygivesmelife · 5 years

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I have decided to write out and publish my personal predictions for Wrestlemania 35 this Sunday. Feel free to comment and discuss with me cuz I’m fuckin PUMPED FOR THIS SHIT! But like also don’t be an ass about it, these are my personal predictions and opinions for Sunday. (All this is subject to change)

Wrestlemania 35 Predictions:

Andre the Giant Memorial Battle Royal (Kickoff Show): Confirmed entrants -- Braun Strowman, Michael Che, Colin Jost, Andrade, Apollo Crews, Titus O'Neil, Tyler Breeze, Jinder Mahal, No Way Jose, Bobby Roode, Chad Gable, Lucha House Party, Bo Dallas, Curtis Axel, Heath Slater, Rhyno, Viktor, Konnor, Mustafa Ali, Shelton Benjamin, Luke Gallows, Karl Anderson, Matt Hardy, Jeff Hardy, Otis, Tucker, EC3:

I honestly have no pony in this race. I’m still very bitter that the Hardy Boyz are being wasted in this match and not doing a singles tag match with The Usos. If I had to pick a winner, I’d say Jeff Hardy or Mustafa Ali, tho it will most likely be Braun Strowman. Winner: Braun Strowman (Personal Choice: Jeff Hardy)

Women's Battle Royal (Kickoff Show): Confirmed entrants -- Asuka, Carmella, Naomi, Lana, Mandy Rose, Sonya Deville, Nikki Cross, Dana Brooke, Ruby Riott, Liv Morgan, Sarah Logan, Mickie James, Zelina Vega, TBA

This battle royal is such a waste of talent ohmygod. Every single one of these women has the potential to win, although I believe it will go to Asuka as sort of a payback (if such a thing even exists in this business) for the bullshit title run she was given as well as being dicked out of a Wrestlemania match. I would love to see Ruby Riott or Sonya DeVille win as well. Winner: Asuka

Cruiserweight Championship -- Buddy Murphy (c) vs. Tony Nese (Kickoff Show): I honestly have no idea who’s going to win since this is so underhyped and I haven’t been paying attention to the cruiserweights at all lately. I think there were much better options that creative could have gone with here, and I don’t see them stopping a long reigning title run for just anyone. Winner: Buddy Murphy

Raw Tag Team Championship -- The Revival (c) vs. Zack Ryder & Curt Hawkins: When the fuck did this match become a thing??? I promise you all that if the Revival lose their titles, I will fucking riot. I will burn the establishment down to the ground. We’ve had to watch the Revival lose how many weeks in a row to Ricochet and Aleister Black? And then THIS is what we get for Mania??? I don’t think so. This is a filler to have on the card. Revival will win. Next. Winner: The Revival

SmackDown Tag Team Championship -- The Usos (c) vs. Ricochet & Aleister Black vs. The Bar vs. Rusev & Shinsuke Nakamura: Once again, what the fuck?? This is a horrible lineup. We could have had The Usos vs. The Hardy Boyz, but no, we get this piece of garbage match instead. WWE creative clearly has no idea what to do with their tag divisions at this current time. I’d prefer the Usos to retain their titles, but I still haven’t seen much about whether they have signed a new contract with WWE since their current one is up in May. I honestly believe the outcome of the match will depend on that. If they have signed a new contract, I would say the Usos will retain. However, if they haven’t, it will go to Ricochet & Aleister Black since they have been dominating both Raw and Smackdown since they were called up from NXT. Maybe a unification of the tag titles in all three divisions, like with the womens titles, if they do?? Food for thought. Winner: The Usos

Women's Tag Team Championship -- Sasha Banks & Bayley (c) vs. Beth Phoenix & Natalya vs. Nia Jax & Tamina Snuka vs. The IIconics: I hate that this is another fatal 4 way for tag titles. As it stands, I wish they never involved Nia Jax & Tamina. They had their shot at Fastlane, they lost, let’s move along now please. I feel that Nia Jax & Tamina vs. Divas of Doom in their own singles match would have been a much better use of story and talent. The IIconics, on the other hand, are a natural tag team. They have the potential to have a great rivalry with Boss n’ Hug Connection, especially with both teams’ promo and in ring skills. I wish they had been focusing more on this part of the storyline without the added mud of the other two teams going into WM35. However, I believe Sasha & Bayley will retain and go on to have a feud with the IIconics post-Mania, and perhaps an NXT tag team will get involved. Winner: Sasha Banks & Bayley (Personal choice: The IIconics)

Kurt Angle vs. Baron Corbin (Farewell Match): Kurt Angle is about to whoop Baron Corbin’s ass and we all know it. Maybe WWE will swerve us with Cena and have him vs. Kurt but who fucking knows at this point? This whole damn show is a hot mess. Kurt wins no matter what though. Let the man retire with some goddamn dignity. Winner: Kurt Angle

The Miz vs. Shane McMahon (Falls Count Anywhere): I’m really excited for this match simply because it’s going to be mayhem. Shane McMahon will jump off lots of stuff, Miz will take some good spots, it’ll be great. With The Miz dominating the way he has been the past few weeks and becoming a beloved babyface, he has to win. I think with Shane attacking his father and the return of Miz’s reality show, they won't do Miz dirty here and his father may even intervene. Winner: The Miz

Roman Reigns vs. Drew McIntyre: I’m so excited for this match ohmygoodness. I love both of them so much and they will give us a great match. After Drew McIntyre brutalizing all of The Shield continuously for the past month, it naturally makes sense that Roman’s first single match since returning from hiatus will be McIntyre. This is going to be the beginning of a beautiful feud, but I don’t think Roman is going to win just yet. They’re introducing a new version of Roman that isn’t invincible like he’s always been in the past. He has a layer of humanity to him now and it would develop his new storyline much more to lose. I think Drew winning will rocket him to being the top heel of the company and it will spark great storylines for the future. Winner: Drew McIntyre

Triple H vs. Batista (No Holds Barred; Triple H's career on the line): I’ll tell you what I want, what I really really want, and that’s for Batista to win this match. However, with Triple H’s career on the line (once again) I don’t see him having much of a chance. Triple H will take this one, but at least we’re getting a blast to the past of ruthless aggression, yeah! Winner: Triple H (Personal Choice: Batista)

AJ Styles vs. Randy Orton: So, I originally HATED the idea of this match. Like, I fucking hate Randall with every fiber of my being. I have my whole life and I don’t see that changing anytime soon. However, the latest episode of smackdown left me excited to see what these two will do in a ring together. What I really mean is that AJ Styles is about to make Randall look the best he has in almost a decade. This one goes to the good ole Georgia boy. Winner: AJ Styles

United States Championship -- Samoa Joe (c) vs. Rey Mysterio: This match is still up for debate on whether it’s going to happen or not. On the go-home SmackDown, it was announced that Mysterio had suffered an ankle injury during his match on Raw against Baron Corbin. He's set to be evaluated up until Sunday so who the fuck knows? I certainly don’t. However, Joe will retain. He deserves to win his first Mania match. ily Joe bby. Winner: Samoa Joe

Intercontinental Championship -- Bobby Lashley (c) vs. Finn Balor: The Demon King is showing up. There’s no question that Bobby will get the shit kicked out of him and Balor will take the title and move on from Buff Wayne Brady to bigger and better things. Winner: Finn Balor

WWE Championship -- Daniel Bryan (c) vs. Kofi Kingston: KOFIMANIA BABY! It’s time! I think this will be match of the night and we deserve it. So does Kofi. It’s going to be an amazing moment for everyone when our new WWE Champion is crowned. I think I might cry y’all. Winner: Kofi Kingston

Universal Championship -- Brock Lesnar (c) vs. Seth Rollins: At least someone actually gets their promised Royal Rumble match (I’m bitter about a lot of things but that’s another matter). I think this will be the biggest disappointment of the night. Everyone hates Brock. We’re tired of him. We want him to go away. Fuck Brock Lesner. Although, I don’t think Seth will win this match. Not after him standing tall over Brock on the latest episode of Raw. I think this is going to be a major let down, but we can’t always get what we want right? Vince’s obsession with Brock will never end until he fucking dies and we’re stuck with him until then. Unfortunately, Seth will be the sacrificial lamb for Kofi and Becky to win. Winner: Brock Lesnar (Personal Choice: Seth Rollins)

Winner Take All -- Ronda Rousey (c) vs. Charlotte Flair (c) vs. Becky Lynch: God, what a fucking mess. I just want Becky to win dammit. Fuck Ronda. Fuck Charlotte. GIVE US BECKY. It’s what we deserve. It’s what she deserves. It’s what the world deserves. I know it’s going to be one hell of a match and I think if they pick anyone else to win they will have a riot from the fans and crowd so bad that people will throw drinks and shit into the ring. I wouldn’t be surprised if Charlotte wins, however, since Vince is obsessed with her, but the smart business move is Becky. If Ronda wins, I give up on everything and this show. Thank God we’re finally getting this match over with. Winner: Becky Lynch

See y’all Sunday ✌️

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walkerduchess · 6 years

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A Game of Hearts - Chapter One: Unveiled (The Royal Romance AU)

Pairing: Drake x MC [Liam x MC]

Notes: Firstly, thanks to everyone who read the prologue and left lovely comments! This is chapter one to my TRR AU series, A Game of Hearts. Apparently I can’t write in a linear timeline so this story will contain a lot of flashbacks throughout the chapters. Again, english is not my native language so I apologize if there’s any mistakes, and I would love to know what you think!

I do not own these characters, they belong to Pixelberry.

Summary: Princess Sapphire struggles in her heart as she takes the next step towards fulfilling her duty to the kingdom. A dark secret threatens to be revealed in the castle.

Content Warning: Mentions of blood and death.

Word Count: 2993

Tagging: I only tag people who explicitly ask me to. If you want in or out the list just speak up! @confessionsofabrokegirl, @museofbooks, @stopforamoment, @scarlettedragon

Prologue: Promised

Chapter One: Unveiled

Sophie sits in the dresser inside her chambers staring at the mirror, ink on her fingers, eyes narrowed.

“Does it look symmetrical?” she asks, examining both sides of her face in the mirror, trying to find imperfections on the golden pattern she drew right beneath her eyes.

“Does it matter?” her cousin snaps back.

“Max…” the princess sighs, controlling her irritation “you know you can tell me what’s wrong instead of taking it out on me.” She turns around and looks at his cousin, sitted in her settee.

“I’m sorry, I’m just… tired of all this, I think.” He motions to his own painted face and formal clothes.

“What?” the young woman brings her hand to her chest in mock surprise “Are you telling me Lord Maxwell is tired of parties?” She jokes, but in reality she‘s worried about him. Ever since his parents died and his brother became the representant of his family in the council of holders, he’s out of place. The joyful boy, her best friend, has been quieter than ever in the last months, and nothing she would do or say seems to help.

“It’s not about the festivities, it’s about the protocols, celebrations and everything else we do here like war isn’t unfolding right outside our door for the past century.” Max’s balls his fists as he tries to contain his anger.

Sophie closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She really doesn’t want to argue with him about this. Not today.

“I’m sorry Sophie. I didn’t intend to darken the mood on your birthday.” He forces a smile “Your face is magnificent, as always.” His tone has gone back to normal, cheerful. Although the smile he wears doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “So, you’re 21. Does that mean you’ll finally get introduced to the people?”

“No.” She replies, resent in her voice. “The king thinks it’s wise to keep me unseen until I’m married. Today only means I’ll get formally engaged.”

“What?” Max’s voice reaches a high pitch. “Why didn’t I know about this?”

“Because it changes nothing. I’ve been betrothed all my life, remember?” She looks up at him, annoying look in her eyes.

“Not this, I mean” Max started, “are people supposed to meet you only when you’re their queen?” The crease between his brows appears again, making his dissatisfaction obvious.

“I don’t agree with this as much as I don’t agree with this war.” Her eyes turned serious “But I am powerless for now, and it’s not like I can stage a riot here, not now that there’s this new evil queen in the south.”

“Well” the young man recomposes himself, standing up from the settee, “we can dwell on never-ending wars and evil queens in another time. For now,” he walks to stand behind the princess, resting his hands on her shoulders and locking eyes with her through the mirror in front of them “we have an engagement to attend to.”

The girl nods at him before closing her eyes and taking a long breath.

As she is escorted from her chambers, Sophie can’t fathom her own nervousness. She is betrothed to Liam since she can remember. This is only a formality, after all. So why is she dreading every step that draws her closer to the hall where the ceremony is taking place, closer to being engaged?

She lets her mind wander to when she was just a little girl, dreaming of marrying not just a prince, but Prince William of the East. How happy she was when she got to meet him and spend time with him, how badly she wanted him to like her. In her young girl’s mind, he was perfect. As she goes down the staircase to the main hall of the castle, she chuckles to herself. He isn’t far from perfect, really. He’s handsome, strong and gentle, and truly cares for her.

Her father, King Brandon, is waiting for her at the end of the staircase. The black ink in his forehead and temples does a good job of masking the wrinkles that have now accentuated in his face. He smiles when he sees her. “You look so much like your mother.” She smiles too. She wishes so badly her mom was there. Queen Aurora would definitely know what to say to make her feel better.

She walks to the middle of the hall held in her father's arm. The room seems empty, in comparison to how crowded it gets during open events. There is basically their families and the castle staff. She looks around to see if there’s someone new, as she never really gets to meet much people. In that moment she thinks about her friends, the ones she had when she was younger, about a decade ago. It would be nice having friends other than Max. And Liam, she supposes. What would Hana and Drake look like today? It has been years since she thought about them, although sometimes Liam talks about Drake, so she supposes he is still living at Thorngate Castle.

Her thoughts are interrupted when Liam comes out from the small crowd surrounding them. As he walks up to her she can’t help but admire the way his dark-blue coat fits perfectly in his muscled torso and how a single, thick line of black ink that comes from each side of his head to his temples accentuates his determined gaze.

Only in his mind he knows how nervous he is, but on the outside he can look so confident all the time that no one would never doubt him. And he would never let anyone know how vulnerable he can be, well, anyone but Drake. His selfish side wants to be angry at his best friend for not being here, but he knows Drake is doing the right thing looking for his sister. The other side of him feels bad for not being able to be there for his friend after Savannah disappeared a couple of weeks ago. He can’t follow Drake looking for her, but at least his father gave him the liberty of sending some of his guards with him.

Liam shakes his thoughts away and stops in front of the princess. His breath catches when he looks at her, the most beautiful woman he ever laid eyes upon. Her light-brown hair falls in modest curls over her shoulders, covered by a sleeved rose dress that falls down to her feet. He can’t remember the last time he saw her in a dress, and it sure makes her look somewhat fragile, but he knows better than that. Princess Sapphire is anything but fragile.

He knows this is an arranged marriage, but he can’t help but thank the Last Prophets in his mind for promising her to him. As far as he knows, he has done nothing to deserve who he reckons to be the most incredible woman in the new world. Would she ever let him in completely? He never told her, but he can tell there are things in her mind that she doesn’t share with him. And that’s what he wants her to know, that he is in for all of her, ready to love her entirely.

He kneels in front of her, taking one of her hands in his own and placing the ring in it with his other hand. She places her other hand in his and they hold each other’s hands like that. “Accept this, not only as a birthday present, but as a symbol of our commitment to unite our lives in one, as well as our kingdoms in one.” He recites, staring directly in her eyes.

She forces herself to smile. It isn’t hard, looking into his blue eyes, overflowing with joy to see her hearing these words from him. She feels guilty her eyes wouldn’t shine for him the same way. But she convinces herself she will love him, she can do it. He deserves to be loved, and right then, staring into his eyes, she swears to herself that with time, she will learn to give him her soul. And they will be each other's strength in the challenge that awaited them ever since they were born.

He stands and places the ring on her finger. She looks up at him, they both know what to do next. They lean into each other and their lips meet in the middle, followed by a round of applause from the crowd.

It’s a ceremonial kiss, unlike the ones they have shared previously. Not that they’ve kissed too many times, but Sophie’s favourite one occurred two years ago, when he came in the library while she read a book from before.

The prince knows where to find her. He’s so happy he gets to surprise her, for it’s been almost a month since he last came to Stormholt castle. Though the trip from Thorngate lasted barely an hour with their new, more efficient cars, now that he’s of age, his several new duties kept him in the East, unable to take a break. He walks through tall wooden doors into the outstanding library - it would be completely ordinary if it wasn’t for Princess Sapphire. She’s probably the only one that comes here these days, and he’s sure also the only one to have read all the books retrieved from before and stored in the castle. The library is large, with books covering three of its four walls, in shelves that go up to the roof, about five meters high.

As he guessed, she’s sitted in a brown divan in the middle of the library, eyes fixated in a book in her lap.

“Let me guess. Third time reading that one?” His voice startles her, and she smiles when she spots him walking in her direction.

“Liam! You actually managed to scare me, because really, nobody comes here.”

“Then, my goals have been achieved. Surprise!” She laughs, staring at his handsome figure walking towards her.

Liam gazes at the pile of books on the table beside the princess. The horse-shaped figure on top of the books fills him with nostalgia and he smiles. He takes a step closer to grasp the chess piece in his hand. Sophie follows his every move with her eyes.

“I used to find it funny... you being the knight, you know. In my mind, you were always the queen.” He looks up at her warm eyes, smiling at him. “Though it would be right for you to be the king, the crucial one, always protected... you always managed to take the lead.” He puts the piece back on the pile and moves to sit in front of her, taking both her hands from the heavy looking book in her lap, to hold them in his. “Besides,” he continues, bringing her hands to his mouth to kiss each one, softly “you are the most talented person in this entire kingdom.”

He lets go of her hands and she takes the book in her lap, placing it in the table and shifting so she can sit upright. “What have I done to earn such lovely and profound words?” the young woman brings one hand up to touch the side of his face and flashes him a genuine smile. It was rare to see him carefree like that, and she really enjoys it.

Liam feels confident, for that smile of hers was always a hard one to get. “Oh,” he smirks mischievously at her “you haven’t done anything. You’re in debt to me now.”

“Is that so?” she joins his playful tone “Then pray tell me what I owe you so I can change that.”

“A kiss” he stares at her, hoping he doesn't sound desperate.

She feels her body suddenly warm at his directness as she peers into his blue, intense eyes. She sees desire in them, and her own reflection. Instinctively, she leans closer to him, hand still in the side of his face when their mouths join together. Liam’s hand press in her back, pulling her even closer to him.

He pulls back to look at her again “I see why you’re the knight though.”

“Why, now?” she giggles.

“Because” he almost whispers, his breath on her lips “the knight can make moves that even the queen cannot.” Before she can say anything, his lips are back on hers, and the sweet kiss turns into a very passionate one.

After a while, Sophie finds herself lying on her back, Liam on top of her, mouths never leaving one another, bodies pressed together. Her hands pull slightly on his dark blonde hair when, suddenly, he pulls back and stands up. Confused, she sits up and stares at him. “What is it?”

She regards his face. The playful, carefree Liam is gone, only a sober, slightly sad look on his eyes now. “I- I’m sorry, Sophie. I didn’t mean to…” his cheeks blush. He doesn't know whether to curse his heart or his consciousness for what just happened. He really wishes they weren’t so conflicted.

“Liam,” she stood up to look into his eyes, placing her hands on his shoulders “there is no problem.” You wouldn’t be my first, she wants to add, but doesn’t. The righteous Prince William would never make love to her before they are officially together, especially not out here in a library. She knows that, and it makes her feel once again unworthy of him. No, she cannot tell him about her teenage adventures with a couple of young guards from the castle. Although it never meant anything, it would only disappoint him and break his heart.

The newly engaged couple part and they both regard the people around them, trained smiles on. Now, it’s time to feist.

Sophie sits in the end of a big stone table in the main hall of the castle. Liam sits beside her and Max next to them, in the side of the table. Behind them, in the back of the hall where the floor rises two steps above, stands the throne, which King Brandon occupies. The identical chair beside him, where Queen Aurora once seated, stands empty. Even now, almost seven years from the queen’s death, the sight of the king, sunken on a chair that seems to grow bigger day by day on contrast with his undermining frame, inspires grief in anyone who observes the empty place beside him.

At least during festivities such as this, the sounds of cheerful talk and clinking plates and cups fill the hall with lightness and joy. Sophie sips ale from her third cup of the night as she absently listens to Max, who is talking to Liam while stealing some bites from his lamb meat. “... no, that was the proposition Lady Olivia suggested me the other night in Thorngate Castle.”

“Wait.” The princess coughs after almost choking with her drink “Are you talking about Lady Olivia as in… Liv? From when we were children?” She looks up at Liam, who is now sitting closer than she remembers, with one arm stretched across the back of her seat.

“Yes” he replies with a smile. His eyes are sleepy and his cheeks are flushed. Looks like he’s had his good share of ale, but he’s allowed it, she thinks, after all it’s his engagement they are celebrating. Plus, it always warms her heart to see him light-hearted and happy.

“‘Does she still live with you in Thorngate?” The princess asks, looking at Liam.

“She went back to her family’s castle when she came of age last year.” Max tells her, having finally finished eating and cleaning his hands in a towel. “But that’s still in the east, so…”

“You haven’t talked about her in years!”

“Sophie, we…” Max turns his whole body towards her and takes her hand is his both. “We don’t talk much about the people we meet outside this castle because you… well, you have to stay here. And we don’t want you to feel bad.” His eyes are on her, cautious.

“Thank you” she says, gazing each one of the men, “but I want to know what happens in the kingdom that I will eventually rule, even if I can’t be there.”

“That can be arranged.” Liam says slowly, nodding at her.

Sophie is so focused on the conversation with the two men that it takes a few moments for her to hear the change in the ambient noise. It starts with distant voices slowly raising their volumes, eventually she can discern screaming and turns to look at whatever is taking place. Then, the next events occur all too fast.

A woman, covered in dirt and blood, tottering towards the king while everyone around her distance themselves. Her hair is damp, the princess can’t tell if it’s from water or blood. There are red and black stains all over the woman’s clothes.

Without thinking about it, Sophie’s feet carries her through the crowd, eyes fixated on the weak looking figure. Suddenly there’s a cutting sound and the woman drops to the ground. Sophie finally gets to front of the small crowd and runs to kneel beside the woman, her movements almost automatic. An arrow is jabbed through the woman’s back. The princess reaches down to check if there’s anything she can do to help but realizes the woman is dead.

Confused and shocked, she raises her head and looks around, only to glimpse a man in a guard uniform with a bow in his hand, which she assumes is the one that shot the arrow. Everyone else is just staring at her. She wants to scream but her voice falters, why isn’t anyone doing something? However, before she manages to catch enough air in her lungs, her vision is suddenly blocked by the legs of another guard which appear in front of her, and the feel of his hands holding her by her shoulders and carrying her away.

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brigdh · 6 years

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A lot of reading reviews

I was unexpectedly busy for most of April, so this is several weeks' worth of reading – though weeks where I didn't have much time for reading for fun, alas. Enjoy an overabundance of reviews? What did you just finish? A Short History of Drunkenness: How, Why, Where, and When Humankind Has Gotten Merry from the Stone Age to the Present by Mark Forsyth. A shallow but funny history of humanity's relationship with booze. Brief chapters cover pretty much every historical era you'd expect: Egypt, Mesopotamia, the Greeks, the Romans, the Bible, Ancient China, Vikings, the Medieval Middle East, Medieval England, the Aztecs, colonial Australia, the Wild West, Russia, American Prohibition, and London's Gin Craze of the 1700s. That's quite the list for a book of less than three hundred pages, and indeed Forsyth is clearly focused on being amusing and easy to read more than he is on deep historical investigations – which isn't really a critique, as long as "silly and quick" is what you're looking for. (I am a bit skeptical of some of his claims, but he has footnotes to back him up; I suspect it's a case of Forsyth taking the most extreme possible side in genuine historical debates.) It's a nice collection of "hey, did-you-know" trivia, but I doubt anyone will come away with more insight on the history of alcohol than they started with. I read this as an ARC via NetGalley. Caliban's War by James S.A. Corey. The sequel to Leviathan Wakes, which I had mixed feelings about. Well, goddamn! Corey has levelled up their writing beyond my highest expectations, particularly in regards to characterization. This time around we have four PoVs. There's Holden again, who remains somewhat action-hero-y but has become far more sympathetic (possibly because he actually has idiosyncratic attributes now; I'm particularly fond of his deep attachment to a fancy coffee-maker). We're introduced to Bobbie Draper, a highly-trained marine from the Martian military and the only surviving witness of the opening salvo of the Martian-Earth war, which might actually have been an accident caused by an alien attack; she prefers battle to politics, and struggles with the question of who she should be loyal to when no one believes her or cares about the whole alien thing. Next is Chrisjen Avasarala, a tiny gray-haired grandmother with a meaningless-sounding title ("assistant to the undersecretary of executive administration") who is actually the power behind the throne of the UN, now Earth's ruling body; she smiles and snacks on pistachios in public and curses like a sailor in private, fiercely determined to ride over any opposition she encounters. And finally there's Prax – Praxidike Meng – a botanist and single father of a four-year-old daughter, more comfortable with plants or scientific reports than being social or having emotions, and completely over-his-head incompetent with the politics and violence he soon finds himself thrown into. The plot sets off when that four-year-old disappears in the conflict of war. A great many people have disappeared or died, and more than that are starving, displaced, rioting, or soon to be all of the above, so Prax is unable to get the authorities to care about one lost little girl. That is until he accidentally encounters Holden et al, and finds the team he needs to solve what increasingly becomes a deep, wide-spread mystery. Meanwhile, Avasarala and Bobbie are trying to convince the militaries of Earth and Mars to back down and focus on the real problem: possible aliens from who-knows-where, capable of doing who-knows-what. Unsurprisingly, these plots eventually intersect for a dramatic climax. I really appreciate how Corey doesn't focus on the action to the detriment of meaning. Yes, there's lots of space battles and killer aliens, but there's thoughtful insight on war and human nature too: “So you’re in an entrenched position with a huge threat coming down onto you, right?” Avasarala said, sitting down on the edge of Soren’s desk. “Say you’re on a moon and some third party has thrown a comet at you. Massive threat, you understand?” Bobbie looked at her, confused for a moment, and then, with a shrug, played along. “All right,” the marine said. “So why do you choose that moment to pick a fight with your neighbors? Are you just frightened and lashing out? Are you thinking that the other bastards are responsible for the rock? Are you just that stupid?” “We’re talking about Venus and the fighting in the Jovian system,” Bobbie said. “It’s a pretty fucking thin metaphor, yes,” Avasarala said. “So why are you doing it?” Bobbie leaned back in her chair, plastic creaking under her. The big woman’s eyes narrowed. She opened her mouth once, closed it, frowned, and began again. “I’m consolidating power,” Bobbie said. “If I use my resources stopping the comet, then as soon as that threat’s gone, I lose. The other guy catches me with my pants down. Bang. If I kick his ass first, then when it’s over, I win.” “But if you cooperate—” “Then you have to trust the other guy,” Bobbie said, shaking her head. “There’s a million tons of ice coming that’s going to kill you both. Why the hell wouldn’t you trust the other guy?” “Depends. Is he an Earther?” Bobbie said. “We’ve got two major military forces in the system, plus whatever the Belters can gin up. That’s three sides with a lot of history. When whatever’s going to happen on Venus actually happens, someone wants to already have all the cards.” “And if both sides—Earth and Mars—are making that same calculation, we’re going to spend all our energy getting ready for the war after next.” “Yep,” Bobbie said. “And yes, that’s how we all lose together.” Caliban's War is a incredible page-turner of a book, with wonderfully engaging characters, detailed worldbuilding, and enough substance to give the action weight. Plus, how can you not like a book where the bad guy turns out to be the military-industrial complex? Also there is a hell of a cliffhanger ending to this book. I'm really glad I didn't have to wait a year for the sequel to be published. Abaddon's Gate by James S.A. Corey. The sequel to Caliban's War, part 3 of The Expanse series. The plot is becoming hard to talk about without spoiling the previous books, so if you don't want to know what happened, stop reading here. The inexplicable alien presence (is it a virus? An AI? something else?) first encountered in the first book of the series has constructed a giant ring far out on the edges of the solar system. Earth, Mars, and the Outer Planet Alliance (OPA, a loose conglomerate of the various colonies on other planets, moons, and asteroids) have each sent ships to study it, but the only thing anyone can tell is that it seems to be a gate to somewhere else. Until, of course, plot events send several ships accidentally through it and into a truly alien, nicely creepy other-place, where even the laws of physics are mutable and prone to abruptly changing. Meanwhile, Holden is visited by Miller, who died in the first book and whose appearance/personality/knowledge the alien presence seems to have co-opted as a face for itself. Unfortunately trying to communicate across the barriers of species and millions of lightyears is just as difficult as it sounds, and what Miller manages to say comes across as garbled nonsense, often intelligible only after whatever he was warning about has already happened. The climax of the book goes small-scale, with two sides battling for control of a single spaceship, crawling through tunnels and fighting hand-to-hand. It's a striking change from the previous books that ended in giant confrontations with hundreds of ships while being just as exciting. Once again we have a new set of PoVs (except for Holden, who continues on), and though I desperately missed Avasarala, Bobbie, and Prax, I have to admit these new guys were pretty fun too. First off is Clarissa Mao, the sister of Julie Mao (now dead from the alien zombie virus) and daughter of Jules-Pierre Mao (now imprisoned for life for war crimes, due to turning the alien virus into a bioweapon and trying to sell it to the highest bidder). Her once-powerful and crazy-wealthy family is disgraced and scattered, and Clarissa blames James Holden personally. She's determined to get revenge – not just to kill him, but to ruin him and his reputation, and make all the galaxy doubt his previous actions – and she doesn't care how many other people have to die to make that happen. To get to Holden, she disguises herself as a nobody, an electrochemical technician on a minor spaceship, and finds herself spending every day dealing with people and problems that were once far beneath her notice. There's also Bull – Carlos Baca – head of security for the main spaceship of the OPA navy. Although Bull is far more experienced and sensible than either the captain or XO, he finds himself relegated to third in command because he grew up on Earth rather than in the Asteroid Belt, and Earthers are visibly distinct from Belters; it's a bit like getting demoted because you're the 'wrong' race, and it would look politically bad for you to be in charge. After an accident halfway through the book, Bull becomes paraplegic. I thought the handling of his disability was mostly well-done, and seeing a big, physically-imposing guy deal with being unable to use strength to enforce his will was an interesting twist. Finally we have my favorite character of this book: Annushka Volovodov, or Pastor Anna. She's a tiny, non-drinking, politically-unconnected, small-town Methodist preacher, determinedly pacifistic and married to a woman. She ends up heading to the Ring when Earth decides to send a team of artists, poets, philosophers, and religious leaders along with the scientists and military, mainly to show off that it can afford to do so, though theoretically to interpret the meaning of an alien presence. I can't imagine a character less likely to end up as the star of a space-opera thriller than a lesbian pastor who just wants everybody to stop fighting, you guys, seriously, why don't we talk about forgiveness and maybe organize a Sunday service with grape juice and a sermon about coming together?, and yet it works incredibly, unexpectedly well. I love Anna so much, and continue to be deeply impressed at the diversity of personalities Corey has written after a first book that was fairly disappointing in that regard. They even seem to be particularly good at writing women who are very different from one another but are all well-rounded, believable, and fascinating, and I would never have seen that coming. The world-building continues to be really well-done. I particularly enjoyed the many scenes set on the Behemoth, an enormous spaceship originally built to be a colony ship for Mormons but retrofitted due to necessity into a warship. The murals of Jesus and angels providing a backdrop for war counsels and weapons storage are maybe a too-obvious irony, but one that never failed to make me laugh. I didn't love Abaddon's Gate quite as much Caliban's War, mostly because the characters here were very good but just not as spectacularly wonderful as before. But that's a relatively minor criticism, and overall I admire Corey's focus on petty, recognizable human squabbling even in the face of worldchanging developments. I'm looking forward to the next book already. Confessions of the Fox by Jordy Rosenberg. What is this? Well, a damn hard book to review, to start. On one level we have what is presented as the 'recently discovered autobiography' of Jack Sheppard, real-life petty thief and escapee from jail in early 1700s London. Sheppard lived fast and died young, then proceeded to become an enormously famous figure in English folklore, probably most recognizable today as the inspiration for "The Ballad of Mack the Knife" in The Threepenny Opera. But Confessions of the Fox is in fact a novel, and though it otherwise mostly stays close to the facts and dates (as we know them) of Jack's life, here Jack is a transman, his girlfriend Bess is the daughter of a South Asian man who was press-ganged by the East India Company before escaping into an independant communal society hidden away in the fens of East Anglia, and his best friend Aurie is a black gay man. Just to be clear, I am all for this presentation of a multiracial queer history. A second level of story is presented through footnotes, much like House of Leaves (though infinitely less confusing than that book, since we only have two levels of story here rather than the four or five in House of Leaves). This narrator is Dr R. Voth, a professor of English literature who is editing Jack's "autobiography" for publication and who is a transman himself. Voth alternates between telling mundane stories of his life – his ex, his job troubles, his attempts to ask out a neighbor – and citing genuine academic sources to provide context for Jack's story. Voth is fictional but his sources are not, which makes for an unsettling mixture of truth and imagination; I think I would have assumed the academic footnotes were also fictional if I hadn't happened to recognize several early ones. I've read Gretchen Gerzina's Black London: Life Before Emancipation and Walter Johnson's Soul by Soul: Life Inside the Antebellum Slave Market, among others, and seeing them mentioned by a fictional character was like water to the face, confusing my assumption of what was real and what wasn't. As the story goes on, "P-Quad Publishers and Pharmaceuticals" in association with "Militia.edu" attempts to take control of Jack's autobiography and Voth's work on it, leading both levels of Confessions of the Fox to become critiques of the commodification of the body and its experiences, capitalism in general, the history of the discovery and modern patenting of synthetic testosterone, and how historical biographies enter (or, more often, don't enter) the archive. Which leaves us in an odd place. If you didn't instantly recognize what I meant by The Archive in that previous line, if you're one of the vast majority of humans on Earth who haven't read Appadurai's "Commodities and the Politics of Value", then I'm not sure this book is interested in talking to you. Certainly if Rosenberg ever bothered to explain any of these concepts in an introductory way I missed it. On the other hand, if you, like me, are an overeducated liberal who can nod pretentiously at sentences like "A commodity is an entity without qualities", then I'm not sure Confessions of the Fox has anything new to say to you. It restates various queer, postcolonial, and Marxist theories without adding anything to them or combining them in interesting ways. Like, sure, we all agree with Foucault that prisons form the model for surveillance and discipline by the wider society, but so what? Dosomething with that idea, expand upon it, challenge it, or else there's no reason to read Rosenberg's book if you've already read Foucault's. So then who is Confessions of the Fox for? I have genuinely no idea. The love story between Jack and Bess or the adventure of Jack's exploits should have been enough to carry their half of the story. I love me a good historical thriller of criminals and the whores they adore. But we didn't really get that here; we see Jack and Bess's first meeting and first night spent together, but then we jump ahead to them as an already established relationship without seeing how they grow together and build trust and affection. Similarly, we never see Jack learn to pick pockets or burglar houses; he's just an innocent apprentice and then suddenly a famously skilled thief. He meets Aurie once and then we're told they're brothers-in-arms without ever seeing their friendship. Etc. In addition to all this, it's hard to love characters who are more living examples of theories than they are three-dimensional people, particularly when they keep bursting into dialogue like this example: Bess stood, speaking to the entire room. “Plague’s an excuse they’re using to police us further!” She looked out. Most continued to quaff and quarrel amongst themselves. “All of you! They’re panicking the people delib’rately. It’s a securitizational furor they’re raising to put more centinels on the streets. Can’t you see that?” It's not even that I disagree with the concept of "security theater", but it's not good fiction to have your characters straight-up define it, and then POINTING OUT IN A FOOTNOTE THAT THE 1720-ISH DATE WOULD MAKE HER THE FIRST TO DO SO IS EVEN WORSE, OH MY GOD, DON'T PRAISE YOUR OWN FICTIONAL CHARACTERS FOR THE MODERN LANGUAGE YOU GAVE THEM. Ahhh, I don't know. I agree with all of Confessions of the Fox's politics, I want to support histories (fictional or not) with more accurate, multiracial, and queer portrayals of the past, and I've certainly read far, far worse books, but in the end I just didn't much enjoy this. The worst I can say is that it's unengaging; I found my attention constantly drifting whenever I tried to read, and even put it down for a few weeks before finally coming back to finish it. But no matter what its good intentions, that doesn't make for a book I'd recommend. In the end Confessions of the Fox has a fantastic concept, but unfortunately doesn't pull off the execution. I read this as an ARC via NetGalley. What are you currently reading? The Pride of Chanur by C.J. Cherryh. sholio is going to be hosting a tumblr book club, if anyone else wants to read along!

[DW link for easier commenting]

#books #book reviews #james s.a. corey #jordy rosenberg #mark forsyth #long post

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jodyedgarus · 6 years

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25 Years Of Super Bowl Halftime Show Lineups, Ranked

On Sunday, tens of thousands of rabid football fans will descend upon Atlanta for Super Bowl LIII. They will consume lots of alcohol. They will paint their faces. They will scream and howl as the Patriots and Rams engage in brutal 22-man warfare with the highest possible stakes. Oh, and about two hours into this, they will all pause everything to watch a 12-minute Maroon 5 concert.

The Super Bowl halftime show has become the spectacle within the spectacle. It used to be filler entertainment while the players hydrated and tended to their wounds. Now it serves a higher purpose. It is about world peace, joy, introspection and even grief. It’s also sometimes about giant metallic lion puppets and dancing sharks.

How are we to interpret these hopelessly silly, desperately hopeful rituals? By ranking them, of course. At FiveThirtyEight, we don’t have the technology to make slideshows, but we do have math and a history of applying convoluted methodologies to questions that don’t really need answers. So let’s get started.

Methodology

First, we need to manage expectations: We are not ranking halftime performances, rather the sheer star power that the NFL assembled on stage each year. We’ll talk about how the shows went, but only in relation to their artists’ success on the Billboard Hot 100 chart before the Super Bowl. Our methodology favors shows with many artists because they’re more likely to excite an audience diverse in age and musical interests. Purists may have enjoyed the simplicity of seeing The Who perform without any interlopers in 2010, but anyone who wasn’t excited by a few 60-something British rockers playing their decades-old hits was left with bupkis.

We chose Michael Jackson’s 1993 halftime appearance as the starting point for our analysis. His performance — widely considered one of the best — is the beginning of the modern halftime show. Viewer ratings for the 1993 show exceeded ratings for the actual game, and a blueprint was formed for years ahead. To get a sense of how MJ changed the game, note that the previous year’s show included a salute to the 1992 Winter Olympics and a bunch of kids performing a rap arrangement of “Frosty the Snowman.”

To measure the success of the featured artists — excluding cameos from the likes of Jessica Simpson, who kicked off the 2004 show by asking the audience to “choose to party” — we created a metric called Performer Points. Our methodology for calculating these points is simple:

Artists are assigned points for each of their songs to make the Billboard Hot 100 list since the list began in August 1958.

A song appearing at No. 1 is worth 100 points.

A song at No. 100 is worth 1 point.

We count each week separately, so songs rack up points for staying on the chart.

Performers listed as the main artist on a track get full credit.

Featured artists or guest vocalists get only one-third of the song’s points.1

Performers get one-third of the points from their former band’s hits. That means Paul McCartney gets only a small boost from hits by the Beatles. The weights compound, so if an artist’s former band was merely featured on a song, the artist gets one-ninth of the song’s points.2

If any of that seems confusing, let’s look at an example featuring one of this year’s performers, Atlanta rapper Big Boi.

When we add up all the points, we can see how successful the artists were for every Super Bowl. Here’s what that looks like for the 2019 halftime performers.

Super Bowl LIII nets a respectable 65,065 total Performer Points. That’s seventh on our list of best Super Bowl lineups since 1993. We’ll see whether that translates to a memorable show on Sunday, but the past five years could give us a sense of whether our methodology has any predictive power.

Rankings

It’s easy to dunk on the Black Eyed Peas, and their uninspiring halftime show in 2011 didn’t make it any harder. Fergie, will.i.am, Taboo (!) and apl.de.ap (!!) closed out their headlining set with “Where Is the Love?” on a giant stage shaped like, you guessed it, the word “Love.” The only problem was that part of the letter “v” was literally missing. Now at least we have some data to back up what everyone was thinking the next day: Usher should have headlined. By 2011, he had already reached Billboard’s top 103 with 14 tracks, including classics such as “My Boo” and “U Remind Me.” Usher went into the halftime show with almost twice as many Performer Points as the Peas, and though he performed one of his weaker hits, “OMG,” he still managed to hit every cue, leaping over will.i.am’s head and into our hearts.

I have a confession: I’ve always thought of the 2012 halftime show as “the one with Nicki Minaj.” Looking at the chart, it’s clear there’s recency bias at work — Minaj has become unavoidable since 2012. But at the time of the Super Bowl, her only top 10 hit4 was “Super Bass.” Madonna, on the other hand, stands on top of our individual power rankings with more than 59,000 Performer Points, thanks to her trove of hits dating back to the 1980s. Credit to Madge for almost single-handedly dragging this riot of grecian beefcakes and vogueing into the top five — Katy Perry and Lady Gaga could never.

I’m glad to see our formula isn’t totally set on picking shows from the past 10 years. The “Salute to Motown’s 40th Anniversary” in 1998 had all the intergenerational appeal that Madonna’s show was supposed to capture. The choreography seems a little hokey by today’s standards, but I could listen to this medley all day. Queen Latifah brings it, The Temptations sound fantastic, Boyz II Men gets a solid ballad in, Smokey covers all the old bases and Martha Reeves is so harmlessly, indescribably awful that you can’t help but smile knowing that social media didn’t exist back then.5

Super Bowl L — er, 50 — was billed as Coldplay’s performance, but the NFL let halftime show veterans Beyoncé and Bruno Mars “crash” it. This was a blessing for anyone not named Chris Martin. Both guest stars had more Performer Points than Coldplay, and they stomped away with the show. Beyoncé, dressed in a black leather homage to the Black Panthers, debuted6 “Formation” right there on the field and reminded us of just how powerful this 12-minute musical interlude can be.

We didn’t tweak the weights to get Nipplegate this high up, I promise. You can see on the chart why it’s such a good show. Janet Jackson was an appropriate headline pick, both in length of career and volume of hits. Nelly and P. Diddy were established emissaries from the rap genre, which the Super Bowl has rarely invited on stage. Justin Timberlake had teenybopper loyalty from his *NSYNC days and a new, prurient edge as a solo artist. And Kid Rock was … also there. Of course, nobody remembers anything about this show other than the words “wardrobe malfunction,” and I don’t think any chart could change that, so let’s leave things there.

You may be wondering where your favorite halftime show falls on the list. As we mentioned above, it’s a rough measure of the excitement people might have felt before the show began — Prince may be the best performer ever to take the halftime stage, but if you weren’t a fan, then there wasn’t much to anticipate. On the chart below, you can see how all the artists compare.

All the data we scraped also allows us to answer one final question: Which artists should the Super Bowl reach out to for the 2020 show? Assuming the league is aiming to please a range of viewers, we can grab the top 10 artists by Performer Points for each decade since 1990, as well as from the past two years for the Gen Z audience.

Drafting a Super Bowl halftime show fantasy lineup

Artists with the most Performer Points, by decade

1990-1999 2000-2009 2010-present 2017-present 1 Mariah Carey Nelly Drake Drake 2 Madonna Beyonce Rihanna Post Malone 3 Boyz II Men Ludacris Nicki Minaj Cardi B 4 Whitney Houston Kanye West Taylor Swift Kendrick Lamar 5 Janet Jackson P!nk Bruno Mars Khalid 6 Celine Dion Usher Maroon 5 Ed Sheeran 7 R. Kelly Rihanna Katy Perry Migos 8 TLC 50 Cent Chris Brown Imagine Dragons 9 Elton John Nickelback Lil Wayne Bruno Mars 10 Toni Braxton Alicia Keys Justin Bieber Halsey

Gray text indicates that the artist has already performed at a halftime show, that the artist has died or that a member of the group has died.

Unlike in the rest of the analysis, points earned as a member of a musical group do not count toward an artist’s individual points.

Source: Billboard

Drake would be the biggest get here for the NFL. Starting in May 2009, Drizzy held a spot somewhere on the Hot 100 for 430 weeks straight. Since 2010, he’s amassed 83,898 Performer Points. The closest runner-up in that table is Rihanna, who collected 48,153 points during the same period. If halftime producers haven’t already approached Drake, they’re sleeping on him.

It’s impossible to know who on our list has talked with the NFL. Stars are rarely as open about Super Bowl negotiations as Cardi B was this year, when one of her representatives told Page 6 that “she was not particularly interested in participating because of how she feels about Colin Kaepernick and the whole movement.” (Rihanna also reportedly declined to perform because of her support of Kaepernick.) Taylor Swift, for instance, seems like an obvious candidate. But she has shilled for Coca-Cola — a relationship that could be at risk if she were to perform in the halftime show that Pepsi has sponsored for seven years running.

Whomever the NFL picks next year, the pressure is on. Asking Maroon 5 to headline a show in Atlanta, a city abounding in talented rappers (Big Boi is the only homegrown artist on the bill), resulted in a social media backlash, and a petition with more than 100,000 signatures has urged the band to drop out to demonstrate solidarity with Kaepernick. USA Today even went so far as to publish an obituary for the halftime show as a cultural institution.

That seems a little premature to me. The Super Bowl has evolved before and could do it again. What used to be a variety show writ large, with inscrutable themes,7 Elvis impersonators and card tricks eventually embraced the market-certified success of singers like Michael Jackson and *NSYNC. The collective shrugs following picks like Coldplay, Justin Timberlake and Maroon 5, which has the second most Performer Points of any artist on our list, may herald the end of that era.8 The league has clearly taken note of this year’s controversy, announcing that the pregame press conference with Maroon 5 would not take place so that the artists could focus on their performance. What might come next for the halftime show is anybody’s guess, but one thing’s for certain: Everyone will be watching.

All images courtesy of Getty.

from News About Sports https://fivethirtyeight.com/features/25-years-of-super-bowl-halftime-show-lineups-ranked/

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3one3 · 7 years

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The Sequel - 870

Gone But Not Forgotten

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“That looks pretty bad, cariña. You’re sure it doesn’t need stitches?”

“No, but Tom always knows when the horses need stitches, so...”

“Why don’t you get someone to help you with the new bandage?”

“I can manage.”

While André played video games after dinner, Christina video chatted. She rang Juan to show him her wound since she wanted to talk to him anyway and needed to replace the bloody gauze. FaceTiming with him seemed an obvious solution when she experimented with using a combination of her phone and the giant mirror in the bathroom to see the inconveniently located cut. Her plan was to arrange new pads on the counter and then pre-tape them so that she’d only need to “slap” the bandage in place.

“I’m sorry you’re hurting.”

“I forgot about it while I was cooking dinner, and then I almost died when I just sat down and leaned back on the couch. I don’t know how I’m going to sleep tonight.” The rider relocated her phone on the vanity so that she and her friend could see each other, and she wrinkled her nose at the thought of having to find a comfortable position for bedtime.

“Lie on your other side and make a pillow wall to stop you from turning over!” Juan smiled at her and took a sip of whatever he was drinking. She interrupted his dinner with his friends. He promised not to let anyone see her breasts since she was topless. She presumed he was sitting next to Taylor, who likely wouldn’t care to see them anyway.

“Maybe. I’m gonna turn around so you can tell me when I have the pads in the right place.”

He helped guide her mission and then excused himself to rejoin his traveling party’s conversation and stop being rude. Christina asked him to call her back later, but only if he was alone. She didn’t want to ask, even in a follow up text, if he was sharing a room with Taylor, or a bed. It looked like he was having a great time. His smile was genuine and wholehearted. That made her slightly sad when she thought about it- when she was past the initial happiness of seeing the smile. She wasn’t having a good time where she was, without him, so he shouldn’t have been having fun where he was, without her. That was a petty notion and she knew so, but couldn’t really help it.

“Did he give you trouble?” André questioned when she walked into his big boys’ playroom, referring to their little boy.

“No. He went right to sleep. I changed the bandage.” She squeezed onto the leather sofa to his left so that she could lean on the arm on that side. Her back hurt from having to sit up and not recline on anything. Lukas wouldn’t let her lie down either. He demanded playtime until it was make-dinner-time, and eat dinner time, and give him a bath and put him to bed time.

“I would have helped.” André didn’t take his eye off the very large TV on which he was assassinating people with his controller.

“I managed.”

“How did it look?”

“Deeper than I thought. It’s still clean though. Do you think it’ll leave a scar?”

“No. It’s really not that bad. I’m surprised it was enough to knock you off. I would have thought it should take a fatal impaling to do that,” he chuckled. “Oh! I meant to ask you. Did Calvin fall down at all?”

“No. Why would he?”

“You’re always complaining about battles in movies where the knight or soldier gets stabbed or hit with an arrow or shot or something and takes the horse down with him. You always say how stupid it is that the horse falls down because the rider is hurt and coming off. I was just curious to know if all your whining was correct.”

“I flew off him like I was never even on him. But I’m also 5-foot-almost-nothing and like a hundred pounds and he’s enormous. It’s not an accurate test of the theory,” Christina yawned. “I stand by that theory though. Even a tall man on a narrow barreled horse with a ton of heavy armor and shit shouldn’t end up taking the horse over with him when he falls. I’ve seen Daniel fall off and if anyone’s legs are going to make the horse keel over too, it’s that guy’s. Never happens.” She yawned once more and picked up a pillow off the floor to put on the low arm of the couch to make it more comfortable. Spencer got up from his blanket nest on the other couch and came over to visit. He got a kiss and lots of petting. He padded around looking for a spot in which to make himself comfortable, but he couldn’t find one because his human couldn’t find one for herself either.

“Why don’t you move over here where there’s more room to lay down? You can put your pillow on my leg,” her human suggested. He paused his game to pat the spot to which he was referring, and to take a look at her replacement bandage. The loose tank top made it easy to see when she was leaning over like that.

“So you can hit me in the head when you get aggressive with the controller? Pass.”

“Only girls have to move the controller to move their guy on the screen,” he replied, dismissive and eyes rolling. His belief was the same as Aidan’s. Aidan forever made fun of his mother and sister for holding their Nintendo controllers with a death grip, moving them in the direction they wanted to walk or run, and leaning over as if the controller needed to remain wherever they moved it to instead of just returning it their lap. Christina played Mario Kart as if she were driving an actual go-kart. Her feet even pushed phantom pedals.

“I’m fine here.”

Is she fine there or is she avoiding me, her partner wondered. They let all the heady issues from earlier just fade out for the rest of the day. Playing with Lukas and having family dinner was easier, and better. Does she not want to sit with me? Is it that much of a difference between sitting four inches from me and leaning over that way, and being right next to me with her pillow touching me? I don’t think she’d even come in here if she were avoiding me, the player assured himself. There are plenty of other couches and televisions in the house. The wounded rider continued to change positions every couple of seconds.

“Come get comfortable, pretty girl,” he offered again, but quieter and softer, in the voice he knew always made her feel better. “I don’t have to play. We can watch something.”

“Don’t you want to finish your game?” His girl eyed him like she was sure he was just looking for another reason to resent her.

“No.” André exited the game without saving his progress, and reached forward to put the controller on the coffee table. “Sit with me.” He rubbed her foot on the cushion and watched her face. It was looking back at him, and acting as a blank curtain for the wheels turning behind it.

After what seemed like an inordinate amount of time, Christina got up with Spencer and walked around the table to the opposite end of the couch. Her intended destination relocated her pillow for her, but she picked it up and moved it even more fully onto his lap before she settled on it. She tugged a blanket down from over the back of the couch and put it in the middle of the triangle made by her thighs, calves, and back cushion it had been draped on, and then put Spencer down there. He collapsed to his favorite oval-like sleeping position immediately, and both human and puppy yawned.

“I’m sorry you managed to get yourself hurt again,” André sighed as he began what he saw as his duty to pet the restless girl whose head arrived in his lap almost expressly for that purpose.

“It’s a nice distraction from the other things that hurt.”

“What else hurts?”

“I rode five 5* grands prix and a jump-off last week. Most were meter-60. In what version of reality would that not be crippling for my Swiss cheese tendons?”

“Tendons? Plural? I didn’t know the left one was hurting again.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“I’m sorry. I take it as a given that the right one hurts most of the time, and I thought it annoys you when I ask about it.”

“It does, but at least I know you care.”

“Oh come on, Prinzessin,” the footballer laughed, leaning forward to see her better. “Don’t pretend you’re feeling neglected in that way.”

“I’m not. I’m just saying,” Christina shrugged. “It’s not like I hid it from you. You just didn’t ask.”

“Well I’m sorry for not asking.” He continued to chuckle, and she shut her eyes to enjoy the feeling of his pudgy fingers loosening up the hair gathered atop her head with his massaging. There was nothing on the screen on the wall to watch anyway. The resident gamer forgot about that part. “But can I just point out that it was two weeks ago, not last week?”

“Still hurts.”

“Okay.”

“Stef wants to bring her boyfriend over for dinner tomorrow. I think she wants my approval. Can you be nice, and can you not report the minutes of the dinner to Mario?”

“Depends.”

“On?” Christina opened her eyes just to frown speculatively into the middle distance, below the TV.

“What are you making?” Her boy was still smiling. He liked when she was vulnerable, disadvantaged, and kind of contrite. It was cute to him when it was toned down enough not to be exclusively annoying. He enjoyed messing with her when he could do it without starting a riot in his home.

“I dunno. I was just going to see what looks good at the grocery store in the morning. Do you have a request? Is there something I can feed you that will make you pleasant and forgetful?”

“Maybe. Let me think about it.”

“It can’t be something that takes hours, babe,” the house gourmet warned. “I only have so much time to shower and cook after I’m done at the barn.”

“I’ll go with you to the store. My session with the fitness coach isn’t until 11:30 and I can’t work out until after. Can I buy you breakfast before the shopping? We could go to the hipster place where everything comes in a bowl. You liked that place, once.”

“Maybe. Let me think about it.”

The response to Christina’s deadpan non-verdict on the breakfast offer was the unrelenting pinching of her nose and tickling of her side until her sounds went from annoyed to pained. André didn’t really think about how much it would hurt for her to wiggle about because of his tickling. It didn’t occur to him that tickling a spot a few inches from her tree branch gash was more than a little likely to cause her pain. She sat up and shoved him hard in the shoulder and chest when he let go of her nose and withdrew his hand from where it tortured her at her waist. Whatever favor he curried with the doting attention was squandered. Her scowl was full of sentiments like “you’re an idiot” and “what is wrong with you”. Both dogs were on their feet and watching the humans with keen interest and slight alarm. They knew when their people were playing and when there was real tension.

“I’m sorry, Prinzessin.” The footballer’s face twisted as he realized how stupid he’d been. He reached out for her, truly regretting his mistake, to try to do something about it. He didn’t yet know if he wanted to hug her, or if he was going to check her cut to make sure her squirming and fighting the tickling didn’t open it further and cause it to start bleeding again, or if he’d just squeeze her and hope that he could squeeze away some of those ugly sentiments in her damning scowl. Betrayal, in particular, would have been a good one to do away with. Not many things felt worse than looking upon his wife- his best friend, and partner in life- and seeing her physically accuse him of betraying her. It was much worse than just disappointing her, or angering her, or irritating her. Tickling and consequently enhancing the pain from a big cut seemed like too minor offense to garner such a response, but of course, André knew individual offenses were looked at on an accruing basis. Many small things make up a great total. Husband and wife were about to get to the heart of that phenomenon. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“You never think anymore!” the equestrian half of the sports power couple snapped. “You never think about me, or us. You only think of you- what you want, what pisses you off, what’s plaguing you. It has been two weeks since I won those medals, and you spent one of them being a jerk to everybody because you can’t play. You spent it being a jerk to me, even though I tried to help. I had one week to enjoy the Olympics and then it was all about you again. Forgive me if I tried to block that out and forgot it’s actually been two weeks.”

“That’s ridiculous.” André rolled his eyes and with it his sense of regret.

“No it’s not. You only think about me and us in ways that don’t even matter! We have to be together all the time, we have to have plans, we have to have sex every day, you need to protect me from me so I don’t fuck myself at the Olympics, I just need to keep my riding on track and then we’re fine, you just need to play well and then we’re fine... I don’t give a shit about any of that. Why can’t you just be considerate of me in the small ways and forget the abstract ones?” Christina leaned over onto the back cushion and hugged her pillow to her chest, eyes pleading and fed up at the same time. “You used to be a sweet, kind, caring, considerate guy who didn’t need to put himself first all the time in the little things. You used to do nice things for me just to do something nice, not as part of some broad scheme to “fix us”. You used to use your head and realize tickling me where a tree stabbed me 6 hours ago is a fucking bad idea, just like yelling at me last Wednesday for giving you too many green vegetables to eat instead of orange ones so that you can get more vitamin A for your muscle tear, and for taking the Range Rover to your friend’s on Friday when you knew I needed Lukas’ seat so I could take him to his haircut. I don’t need a comprehensive strategy to keep our marriage going and I don’t need flowers and presents. Courtesy and kindness would be fine.”

“But-“

“Babe. We fight all the time. For more than a year. We never used to be like this. We were never that couple.” Sadness edged out all that pleading and frustration. “We were never those people.” André picked at a hangnail and avoided eye contact.

“I think you’re being very unfair,” he replied without inflection, and without much volume either. “Some weeks you want me to worry about the big problems, and you complain that I turn a blind eye to them. You’re not always considerate of me either, big scale and on the little things, and it’s hard for me to even factor you into everything I do each day when I’m not used to you being here. You’re never here long enough for me to get into a routine. You come by for a little while and I want to make plans with you because I missed doing stuff together, and yeah, I probably don’t think that much about whether the baby seat is in the car or not because I’m used to it being in Espen’s car, or just moving it when I need it. I don’t know why we fight so often. I change everything you ask me to change, and then it’s something different that upsets you. I give you all the freedom to do what you want as I can, but I do get angry and bothered when you take it to the extreme and make me feel like your relationship with Juan is the main one and I’m just the person you deal with when you stop in at home. I think you think I want to fight with you. I don’t. I just don’t want to bend over and take it when you’re unfair.”

“Yeah okay but I don’t see what a routine has to do with being considerate enough to not tickle my side when you literally have to reach past my giant gauze bandage to do it.”

“Yes, that was dumb.” The very tense Bee put his weightier emotions on pause to pull a self-deprecating half-smile and laugh at himself while tugging the front of his hair down into his face. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I just forgot.”

“Stop forgetting things. You forget all my favorite things.” His girl similarly paused her carefully designed emotional appeal- a sequence of faces and intonations and anecdotes planned together by a master architect to sell her point- to be entirely transparent and authentic, primarily because she was finally getting to the heart of what was really and truly bothering her about their relationship. She put her chin on the pillow hugged to her chest, and let her lids drop a little. “You don’t bring me lollipops anymore, or sit next to the tub to talk to me when I take a bath, or let me pick out new clothes for you before we go out to eat, or ask me obscure stuff about the horses, or ask for stories. You never talk to me about football or what’s happening in the dressing room. You forgot that I love when you make whipped cream for me and soak the strawberries in sugar water first. You forget to ask me to the movies every couple of weeks to eat popcorn and fall asleep on you while you watch a terrible film. You forget to wait for me to make that embarrassing squeaking sound you love before you give up kissing and touching me and skip straight to sex.”

I can’t remember the last time I did almost any of those things, André reflected, his inner voice solemn. But I have reasons. I didn’t forget them all. I don’t talk to her about football because I just don’t want to talk about football. I don’t take her shopping for me because she’s never here and it takes major advance planning to get us both free and get the horses ridden and the kids trained and the baby watched so that we can do an afternoon AND night together. I don’t ask for stories because for a long time she just told me about stuff she did with Juan. I don’t ask about the horses because I didn’t want her to feel like I was pressuring her before the Olympics. And I didn’t forget the fucking lollipops. He reached into his sweatpants pocket and pulled out a lime green sucker of the round, flat, cheap, pure sugar variety.

“I was going to suggest a walk after you tucked Mausi in but you didn’t come down right away- just up the driveway and the stable road,” he clarified, in case his girl was about to tell him they couldn’t have gone anywhere anyway because Lukas was asleep upstairs. Sometimes they left him alone for 20 minutes or so, but they never went farther away than the range of the nursery monitor. André figured he could get from the limit of its range to his son’s crib in 30 seconds if he had to, and that there were few emergencies that would require a faster response than that that he would even know about if he were in the house. “I put the bag of lollipops in your Givenchy bag- the one I gave you- but I guess you haven’t used it in a few days.”

“Oh.”

“I haven’t forgotten all your favorite things, Prinzessin. A few, maybe, but not most. Not the important ones. And your squeak is my favorite thing, not yours.”

“The things you do to make me make the squeak are my favorite.”

“I haven’t forgotten them. You don’t open yourself up to me anymore. No one can be that level of open with two people at once, Prinzessin,” André advised in a sage sounding bit of counsel. “You can’t let two in. Two can’t fit through the door at the same time. If you’re going to let Juan all the way in, and connect with him that way, and love him that way, then he’s the one whose kisses and touches will feel like your favorite. Mine won’t have the same effect for you until I’m the one in that small space on the inside. Then you feel every one of my kisses and touches from the inside out, the way you like.”

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