#lauricityedit

They celebrate every win by treating themselves with the finest champagne they can find and investing in an absurdly large amount of rose petals to scatter around their hotel suite.

Laurel turns her gaze back to Felicity, cracking her neck with an unnatural and jagged motion, lifting her hand to rub her cheek. “Did you just slap me?” Felicity sucks in a breath. If she steps back, this Laurel, not her Laurel, not her angel, will pin her to the wall- But forward means getting too close, like they’re not way too fucking close already. So all she can do is root her shoes too the floor, pink patent on concrete. “Who are you?” This is Laurel’s face but not her smile- This is Laurel’s face but her gaze is dead, endless, the kind of thing to violently drown in. Felicity feels her body twist in the water, the air just out of her grasp. “I’m Laurel.” Felicity lifts her fingers to her star- Something her Laurel loves, something she supports, and this not-Laurel seems to frown as Felicity’s fingers rub against the rose gold. “You’re not Laurel.” “Well,” she says, pulling her gaze away from the offending necklace, tapping her chin in mock thought. “I say I’m Laurel, and I look like Laurel, and-“ She tilts her head. “I’ve got wings just like Laurel, so-“ “You don’t talk like Laurel,” Felicity says, frightened but insistent. “You don’t hold yourself like Laurel.” “Clever,” Laurel says, and she take’s Felicity’s wrist, pulling it away from her necklace. Felicity lets this Laurel hold her wrist. Pulling away would be a sign of disgust and disgust is a sign of weakness, like this Laurel is doing enough to upset her. And she is, and Felicity feels herself trembling, but she does not pull away. “What do you want?” “Oh, let’s not rush,” not-Laurel says. “I’m savoring your fear.” “I’m not-“ Felicity curls her lip. “What?” She says, decidedly. “Are you a demon? You think you can wander around, scaring little Jewish girls? We’re not Christians. Angels and demons are fun, sure, but I’m not awed by you.” “You are awed,” Demon-Laurel says. “You are awed by angels, like any other human, like she’s so special-“ “Laurel is special because she is Laurel,” Felicity says. “And you are just a demon, so you are not.” “You wound me,” the demon says. “I think you’re very special, Felicity. You can’t pay me the same respect?” “Screw you,” Felicity responds. The demon calling herself Laurel who looks like Laurel but is the opposite of Laurel considers this. And she laughs.

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