Five years ago, Ray Palmer bought an old yet historically important building from Eobard Thawne in order to keep it from being torn down and the residents ending up on the streets with nowhere to go. Over the years, some tenants have moved out but a core group remain, whoâve gotten to know Ray and the building manager, Rip Hunter. Then over the last year and a half, theyâve renovated the entire building while retaining much of its unique characteristics as they could. With this renovation, comes a new wave of tenants to shake things up. No one knows what this means for life in the Waverider Tower other than life will never be the same again, for good or for bad.Â
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014), Supergirl (TV 2015), Constantine (TV)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Relationships: Nate Heywood/Ray Palmer, past Nate Heywood/Amaya Jiwe, Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, Sara Lance/Ava Sharpe, John Constantine/Caitlin Snow, Barry Allen/Iris West, Amaya Jiwe/Zari Adrianna Tomaz, Earth-X Leonard "Leo" Snart/Ray Terrill, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Characters: Nate Heywood, Ray Palmer, Sara Lance, Oliver Queen, Slade Wilson, Felicity Smoak, Amaya Jiwe, John Diggle, John Constantine, Zari Adrianna Tomaz, Ava Sharpe, Earth-2 Laurel Lance, Iris West, Barry Allen, Cisco Ramon, Caitlin Snow, Dinah Drake (Arrow), Curtis Holt, Rene Ramirez, Kara Danvers, Alex Danvers
Additional Tags: Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Depression, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, not oliver queen friendly, Bipolar John Constantine, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Anxiety, Mentioned Neglect, Dark, Angst, Self-Harm, idk what to tag, Getting Together, Arguments, Hurt/Comfort, Nate and Amaya are /not/ bitter exes, They love each other
Series: Part 2 of the dc complex universe
Summary:
Oliver Queen is lost in darkness, harming people around him. Can our group of heroes get through to him, or will his downward spiral catch them too?
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Fandom: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Rating: General Audiences
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: Gen
Characters: Sara Lance, Ray Palmer
Relationship: Sara Lance & Ray Palmer
Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Affection
Summary:Â Ray and Sara share a moment post-death totem takeover.Â
Among the many things sheâs experienced over her life especially in the last few years, Sara admits wielding the death totem is definitely up there in the top five worst things ever. She attacked her crew and did serious harm to them.
How they can still stand to be around her, is astonishing.
Itâs late on the Waverider and with the rest of the team fast asleep in their bunks, Sara lets her body relax as she swirls around the alcohol in her glass.
Sara freezes when she hears footsteps approaching her.
Who on Earth could be up at this time of night besides her?
To be fair, they all have their nights when sleep alludes them because of things theyâve seen and done but sheâs positive that todayâs mission should have worn them all out enough to fall deep asleep.
(incidentally--fuck off, Rachel? Also, under a cut for discussion of suicidal thoughts.)
He hasnât let himself count how long itâs been since heâs seen Lisa since six months passed. If he keeps doing it, heâll go crazy, he knows this for a fact--itâs been so long. Heâs so tired and restless, and the routine of going home and ending up spending the night alone, laying on his couch and staring at the ceiling, is starting to get old. Which is the depression talking, but itâs the depression that got him in this mess, so itâs...well, itâs ironic, maybe.
The point is, heâs walking home and thinking of ways to kill himself.Â
Not because of Lisa! Even though she had been drifting through his thoughts a lot today, which was really unfair. Not because of anyone in particular, actually, but really everyone, and everything, and if he was being honest he was too tired and weighed down and weary to pick out each and every individual reason, but that was the problem, he thinks, the reason heâs plotting this out at all.
He doesnât want to fail, though, is the problem. If he fails heâll just upset Barry and Iris and heâll never get any peace after that, theyâll always be hovering and worrying and fussing--poor little Cisco. Couldnât handle the strain of being a second-rate superhero so he decided to off himself and couldnât even do that right. And he canât think of a fool-proof method of dying; heâs scared of guns, honestly, the real ones, not the kind he made for Len and Mick and--and her, the fantasy guns. And he doesnât want to burn to death, or drown, or hang, because all of that would leave a mess.Â
So, with that in mind, he settles on the next best thing--sleeping for as long as he possibly can, until the calls from Barry wondering where he is become inescapable. Maybe heâll sleep so much heâll just turn his brain off for good. Thatâd be nice.
Anyway. With the sleep of the suicidal on his to-do list, he climbs his stairs and enters his apartment, and does not sit down to cook or order takeout. He just drops his bag and undresses along the way, stopping before his bedroom door to kick off his briefs, his free hand reaching up reflexively over his chest, brushing his surgery scars. He frowns as they throb underneath him and twists the door open, stepping into the dark room and falling into bed to forgo thinking about it.
He rolls over, only to find someone has already claimed his space in his own bed.
Thereâs a pause. Cisco catalogs the sensation internally, somewhere beneath the initial panic response--warm, big, definitely human, and definitely alive. But also, wet. Water?
No. Itâs tacky when he pulls away to sit up. Blood, then.Â
âWhat--whatâs going on?â he asks. He can talk, can feel himself talk, make himself move his mouth--so, not a dream, then. But then what the hell--
âHi, Cisco,â Lisa says, barely above a whisper. She rolls over in his bed and exposes the huge gash across her stomach, bleeding profusely into his sheets, along with the innumerable bruises and minor cuts littering her body. âMâsorry. Didnât--didnât know where else to go. I had to hide. I--â
âItâs okay,â Cisco says, from somewhere behind himself, the back of his brain that was still chugging along even though every other part of his thoughts were consumed with blinding panic, âgod, I promise itâs okay. Youâre safe here, Lis. Youâre safe now.â
âGood,â Lisa sighs, âgood, thatâs...good. With you. Safe.â
She closes her eyes. Cisco shakes her awake. âNo, no, donât do that! Stay awake, stay with me, I--Iâm gonna--â
âCall an ambulance,â Lisa says, yawning widely, shuddering in pain. âFirst things first. And then call the Flash, maybe.â
Ciscoâs hand is already in his pocket, pulling out his phone. That sleep he desperately needs will have to wait, but as he searches his thoughts while on hold with the emergency operator, he realizes theyâve retreated back into the constant gloom lurking at the edges of his brain, banished by the golden glow of Lisaâs presence beside him, and the white-hot urgency of her situation.
Itâs not a solution to either of their problems, but itâll do. For a start.
"I can believe you talked me into this" Laurlicity, please. Or Sara/Kendra if you don't ship them idk.
aah i havenât done any laulicity today so iâmma do this for laulicity!
...
This was the fifteenth wedding dress Felicity had tried on, and her feet were starting to hurt in these heels. They were covered in diamonds--real ones, for some reason, because her mother had gone over the top and gotten Ray involved and somehow this had turned from a civil ceremony at city hall into someone renting out a ballroom and hiring a full orchestra and that meant she had to wear a dress. Laurel, settled comfortably on the chaise in her pajamas, watched Felicity twirl for her pleasure with a smile. âHaving fun?â
âYou shush, just because you look beautiful in anything doesnât mean Iâm so lucky,â Felicity griped, lifting up her skirts. âI think I wanna go with something shorter? If thatâs okay?â
âItâs your dress, Iâm not going to stop you,â Laurel said, grinning. âYou sure you want to wear heels?â
âNo, but you like how my ass looks in them, so yes,â Felicity clucked her tongue and sighed. âCanât believe you talked me into a fancy wedding.â
âI want everyone to know I love you, and youâre mine,â Laurel shrugged. âThe whole world should know I intend to keep you by my side forever.â
âOh,â Felicity said in a tiny voice. âI. Okay. Um.â
She twirled for Laurel in her dress, her skirts swirling. âIf I go with a short dress I want a really long veil, but we have to be careful I donât trip, right?â
âRight,â Laurel agreed, watching Felicity with warm eyes. âPrincess, youâre going to look beautiful no matter what.â
âOkay! Then...short dress, tiara, and veil,â Felicity said. âThatâd be totally rad.â
Laurel laughed, beckoning Felicity over into her lap. Felicity collapsed gratefully in a rustle of tulle on top of Laurel. âCan we finish this up in a bit? I wanna take the heels off and order pizza, and I canât wear white and eat pizza.â
âThatâs true,â Laurel agreed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. âTell you what. Iâll go get my phone and order pizza. You get out of that dress and take off those heels, and weâll find something to do while we wait for pizza.â
âSee, this is why youâre the ideas girl,â Felicity said, already doing as she was told, the heels sparkling in a heap as Laurel laughed, getting up and grabbing her phone.
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[Earth-2 Lisa and Cisco have a fun conversation and some other good times. He kind of owes her his life now, so heâs going to make sure she knows he belongs to her, body and soul. Like she hasnât noticed. Written for @goldenvibeweek!]
Lisa isnât sure why sheâs standing in front of public enemy number one with a gun in hand, but an angry mob tends to cloud your judgment, sure enough.
âHey,â she says, only realizing once she starts speaking that itâs eerily quiet. Her voice carries in the cold air. âThis isnât how Central City does justice. Go home.â
âThatâs one of Zoomâs metahumansââ
âIâm well aware of what he is!â Lisa snaps. âBut Iâm not going to stand here and let you all execute him gangland style! Goddamn!â
Thereâs a silence. Lisa lowers her gun. âLook. I donât want to draw on citizens. But you all need to put your weapons away and disperse. If he wanted you killed, he couldâve done it.â
âDonât,â Reverb mutters, wiping blood from his mouth, âIâd hurtâyouââ
âSsh,â Lisa snapped, turning to the crowd. âWell? We do this by the book, people. Go home. Let the government handle it.â
Thereâs a rumble of anger and frustrated grumblings, but sheâs done the right thing; like covering a fire with a bell jar, the hatred flickers out with nothing left to fuel it, and people start to turn away.
âBy the book,â Lisa says, mostly to herself, âby the book. We do this by the book.â
She hefts Reverb up by his coat collar. He doesnât stop her. âLetâs go.â
âAs you wish,â he says, smiling, and itâs not mockingâitâs soft and fond, and it makes him beautiful.
God, she hates herself right now.
âŚ
âCan you text a number if I give it to you?â Reverb says from shotgun, the seat pushed all the way down. Heâs laying on his belly watching Lisa drive, his glasses in a curled, twisted heap of smoking machinery next to him. Lisa blinks.
âWhy?â
âI need someone to feed my cats,â Reverb says.
âOh,â Lisa blinks. âRight, yeah, gimme the number.â
He does, and she texts them to feed Reverbâs cats, no questions asked, because he might be part of the most dangerous gang in the city, but sheâs not about to let cats starve.
âYou gonna lecture me or something?â Reverb yawns, stretching out and grinning. âYou saved my life, sweet Buttercup. I should thank you. Devote myself entirely to your service. Would you like that?â
âOh my god, please,â Lisa snorted. âI just didnât want to see a bunch of decent people get so worked into a frenzy they did something theyâd regret.â
âPardon me for saying, madam, but decent people tend to not congregate into mobs and go out to murder metahumans,â Reverb remarked. âSpeaking of, howâre you doing on the metallurgy?â
Lisaâs hands froze on the wheel. âI donât know whatââ
âWhen I was in the mayorâs mansion,â Reverb says, âgathering documents. Spy stuff. Nothing gross. I didnâtâmean to see you. But you turned the chandelier gold. And it still glowed underneath all that metal, the light still shiningâŚâ
He trails off. âKind of like you. Hey presto, metaphor.â
Lisaâs face is hot. âYouâyou prickââ
âThanks, but I donât have one,â Reverb yawns. âPoint being, naturally, apologies for peeping, but I only saw your meta ability. Nothing else. Scoutâs honor.â
âWhy should I believe you?â Lisa snaps, her face still pink. Reverb snorts.
âBecause if Iâd seen your breasts, Buttercup, Iâd have rented a blimp to tell everyone all about it.â
Lisa makes a face. âDonât be gross.â
âGross? Youâre stunning,â Reverb says. âThereâs such a shortage of perfect breasts in this world. âTwould be a shame to damage yours.â
âWhat kind of shitty villain quotes a dumb eighties fantasy film?â
âOne, not a villain,â Reverb insists, âvigilante. Twoâdumb? Excuse me? Youâre one of those snobs who doesnât like eighties fantasy?â
âI never said that!â
âYou just did!â
Heâs giving her a look of such offense she has to laugh. âOkay. Fair. But I donât mean it. IâŚI used to watch The Last Unicorn with Lenny when daddy was out.â
She stares over the dashboard. âHe came back and found us one time. He got mad at us for watching a faggy film and broke the VHS over my head.â
Reverb doesnât say anything for a long time.
âLenny stole me a new one from the video rental place,â Lisa says. âHe didnât like stealing unless we needed to eat. But he knew I loved that movie. I wasâŚI was waiting for my prince.â
âYou were?â Reverb says faintly. âStrange. Amalthea leaves LĂr at the end, though.â
âWell,â Lisa shrugs, âIâm not a unicorn.â
âNo,â Reverb agrees. âI couldnât love a unicorn. Wasnât that the whole point?â
Lisa doesnât say anything after that. Her heartâs hammering under her chest.
âWe canât go back home,â she says. âLenny wouldâLenny would have you thrown in jail. Or something. Maybe? Um. Is thereâdo you have a place where we couldâhide?â
âI thought you said we were doing this by the book,â Reverb chides her. âDid you save me for nefarious purposes, Buttercup? Do you plan to ravish me?â
âShut up,â Lisa snaps, her face bright pink. âLook, do you know where we could go to ground or not?â
Reverb sighs. âI know a place.â
âŚ
The place in question is surprisingly comfy and well-furnished, given that itâs a loft on the very edge of Central City.
âHigh meta population increase around here,â Reverb says. âProperty values went way down.â
âIs this going to be a conversation about meta rights?â
âI donât know, is it?â he replies, walking with her into the building. âYouâre the one whoâs a secret meta and letting us die in the goddamn streets, Buttercup.â
âNot just me,â Lisa blurts out. âButâbut itâs notââ
âNot what?â Reverb shrugs. âWhatever. Youâre right. I donât feel like convincing you of anything. I feel like taking a nap after a near-death experience. Everything else can be worked out later.â
He strips in front of her carelessly, sliding out of his jacket and pants, kicking off his boxers and throwing his shirt off, unclasping his binder and flopping down onto the cot and its blankets, staring up at the ceiling. Lisa stares.
âAre you really going to sleep?â
âIâm going to try,â Reverb says. âHave to fix my goggles. Need to be focused. Can you charge my DS? Itâs in my jacket pocket. Chargerâs plugged in over by the lamp.â
âPriorities,â Lisa snorts, but she does as sheâs told, and tries not to glance back at his nakedness, spread-eagle on the bed. Heâs beautiful, and she hates herself a little more for taking note of his body.
She plugs in the DS and stands over him on the bed. âDid you have to strip down?â
âSleep naked,â Reverb says. âDonât like it, leave.â
âDidnât say I didnât like it,â Lisa sighs. âShit. Youâre not gonna hold this over my head later, are you?â
âWouldnât dream of it, Buttercup,â Reverb promises as she takes her shirt off. He whistles and grins. âCute bra!â
âThanks,â Lisa grins, and for a second, things are normal and sheâs not about to fuck the brains out of the most wanted criminal in Central City.
Well, she thinks, that honor could go to Zoom instead. Itâd assuage her guilt some, later, when she remembers to think of things that arenât Reverb, and her cock, and his silky-soft body sheathing hers.
âŚ
She wakes up and heâs gone. Sheâs not surprised. She is surprised about the roses on the bed, blanketing the sheets and covers. It smells like heaven.
Thereâs a note pinned to her panties when she goes to pull them on, and she examines the neat handwriting with a frown.
âButtercupâjust remember. I will always come for you. You own me body and soul now, and you can always call in that debt. I would be honored to repay.
Signed,
The dread pirate Reverb.â
âFucking nerd,â Lisa grumbles, but she holds the note close, and keeps it in her pocket until she sees him again. Because she will, she thinks, and this time theyâll do it by the book. The real one, the one with a happy ending. Hopefully.