day 4 already? channukah is going by so fast! i’d love to hear about the lance sisters + their jewish memories though

Sara leaves a stone on Laurel’s grave, kneeling on the grass, not caring about the stains on her jeans. 

Laurel isn’t buried in a Jewish cemetery, and Sara isn’t sure if she regrets it. She’s not sure if she regrets picking her father’s side over her mother’s. 

She didn’t feel Jewish, really, not ever, until recently. She had to be dragged kicking and screaming to Hebrew school, even as Laurel loved it. She skipped Sunday school more often than not, choosing to go on adventures with her friends instead, in the woods surrounding her synagogue. 

Her mother yelled and her father sighed, but they gave up making her go eventually. 

She wishes she’d gone more, now. Laurel loved it so much, loved learning, loved all the stories and the morals and the community. Tikkun Olam, repair the world. Laurel Lance, always trying to save the world. It was the perfect place for her. 

Not for Sara. But she wishes she had the comfort, now. The community. A place to go home to, like Laurel did. To be around all those people who loved Laurel, without feeling out of place. Like she doesn’t belong. Like she’s been dead twice over–three times, if you count everyone thinking she was dead–and back again. 

Like she’s looked into the face of evil again and again, and that entering this sacred space is sacrilegious on its own somehow. 

So she leaves a stone on her sister’s grave, one of the stones that she’s been collecting, wherever she goes. Handfuls of stones to leave for Laurel; places she’s been, places she wishes Laurel could have seen. 

This way, if she can’t bring Laurel with her on her adventures, at least she can bring a little bit of her adventures to Laurel.

@dctv-hannukah-event

Nyssara + 12, perhaps? Always such a huge fan of your Nyssara stuff! :D

“perhaps” hell yes. Here you goooo

The fire crackled softly, filling the cottage with a warm glow. Nyssa lay with her head in Sara’s lap, watching the snowflakes fall outside their windows from under her eyelashes. They were staying in the cottage for a few days, high up in the mountains. Not for a mission this time, no. Sara had recently confessed that she always wanted to learn how to snowboard. Sure, she’d gone on ski trips with her friends in high school, but she never managed to try out a snowboard. That’s when Sara was surprised to learn that Nyssa could snowboard. 

“You know, I still don’t understand how snowboarding is part of your assassin training,” Sara said softly. She ran her hands through Nyssa’s dark hair. “And I don’t get how I missed out on that part of the training!”

Nyssa rolled onto her back, so she could look Sara in the eyes. “You never had to take one of the cold missions. I protected you from them because they are the most dangerous.” Reaching out, she pulled Sara’s sweater back on her shoulder with a tender smile. “I care for you too much to put you in danger.”

With a smile, Sara guided Nyssa’s hand to her cheek. “You’re the sweetest. I do have a question.” 

“What is your question, my love?” She brushed her fingers over Sara’s jawline. 

Turning her head, Sara kissed Nyssa’s fingers. “When you have missions in the snowy, dangerous mountains, why on earth would you take a snowboard and not a snowmobile?” 

“Beloved, have you ever heard me walk?” Nyssa sat up, placing her hands on the other side of Sara’s thighs. 

“Well…” Sara searched her memories. “Um. No, not really. You’re always silent, like a cat.” Her eyes slipped down to Nyssa’s lips. 

“Exactly. Do you know how much noise a snowmobile makes?” Leaning in ever so slightly, she kissed Sara’s cheek.

“That’s fair.” After a gentle kiss, Sara pushed Nyssa back down, covering her legs with the fuzzy blanket. “Rest, babe. You’ve got more than a few bruises, helping me learn how to snowboard.”

Smiling, Nyssa turned on her side. “For a past assassin, you truly do not have good balance.”

“Oh hush.” 

For a while, the only sound in the room was the fire and the soft landings of snow on the roof. When Nyssa’s breathing was slow and steady, Sara couldn’t help herself. “Until I met you, I thought I would always be a screw-up. I didn’t know what I wanted in life, and nothing was helping me figure it out. But then you saved me, and that’s when I knew. All I wanted, was to be with you. I’m not with you because you saved me. I’m with you because I love you.” She sighed and placed a soft kiss on Nyssa’s head. “My beloved,” she whispered.

Shy kiss + nyssara, yes I am mean

(So mean. I could NOT get these two to have a shy kiss, no matter how many ways I tried. I hope this is close enough!)

Sara’s had some bizarre adventures in her unlikely life. They’ve taken her from Nanda Parbat to the Waverider, where the weird highlights have included aliens, puppets come to life, and one late night when Nate and Behrad decided to recreate the meat trifle from FRIENDS and then insisted that the crew eat it. 

But she never imagined she’d walk in on anything quite so odd as the Heir to the Demon standing in the middle of Quentin Lance’s kitchen, surrounded by cake ingredients, glaring at the messy remains of a box of eggs on the floor.

Sara’s trying so hard not to laugh. She can’t imagine that would go down well with the deadly assassin and... amateur baker, apparently.

“Uh. Hi?” Sara says.

“Beloved,” Nyssa says, after a moment’s silence. “I am a failure.” 

She says it with such depth of feeling that Sara flips from amusement to heartbreak in a second. She steps in to take both Nyssa’s hands and squeeze them tight. “You are not. What happened here?”

“I was trying to bake a cake for your father.” She raises her hands to gesture helplessly around the homely, suburban house. “I am out of place here. I hoped to offer some hospitality in return for your family’s.” She lets her head hang as though a few broken eggs are a shame upon her honour. “My reflexes should be far better than this. I allowed myself to become distracted.”

“Oh, Nyssa. That’s so sweet, but...” Sara raises one hand to her mouth, to hide the laugh that’s still threatening to escape against her well-trained will. “Why didn’t you ask me to help?”

Nyssa raises a knowing eyebrow at her. “I was not aware you had learned to cook during our long years apart, Beloved.”

Sara makes a face at her. “I’ll have you know I’ve learned some tricks from a few friends with a talent for baking.” She grabs a cloth from the counter and kneels down to clean up the mess. “Including the formidable Rip Hunter - birthday cakes were his speciality - and you’ve met Mick and Zari. They’re both nearly as good at baking as they are at eating the results.”

Nyssa is looking down at the mess at her feet as if she lost in a skirmish with a great enemy, and not with a box of eggs. “Perhaps I should have asked one of them, or your Gideon, to create a cake for me to bring as a gift,” she sighs.

Dumping the mess in the trash, Sara grins back at her beloved over her shoulder. “Somehow I doubt even an AI’s baking would have met your ridiculous standards of perfection, love.”

But it’s clear Sara’s not managing to cheer Nyssa up - she’s still staring at the ground. “I am sorry, Sara,” she murmurs. “Your father so kindly invited us to stay here before his birthday party, and I merely wished to do something memorable for him... and for you.”

Sara places her hands on Nyssa’s shoulders. “You have,” she says sincerely. She can only hope her eyes communicate the words she hasn’t yet been able to say aloud since Nyssa came back to her - even though she feels it, every day. “Habibti, you have.”

Her eyes have drifted to Nyssa’s lips, already quirking into a smile, as Sara leans in to meet them. She lets her hands move up into Nyssa’s hair, lingering into the kiss for a moment longer than she probably should, in the circumstances. Nyssa’s just too tempting to say no to. She always was.

When they pull apart, Nyssa is smiling back at her, almost shyly. 

Sara gets to appreciate this rare look for all of a few seconds before there’s a cough behind her. With perfectly matched assassin’s reflexes, Sara and Nyssa both whip around - to see Laurel Lance grinning in the doorway. “Hi, ladies. Looks like a couple of assassins lost a fight with a whole lot of cake batter.”

Sara throws a cloth at her. “Are you going to quip, or are you going to help?”

“Probably a little of both,” Laurel shoots back, while Nyssa just returns an unusually warm smile at Sara’s sister.

The cake ends up being a three-person job and, as Sara predicted, it still doesn’t meet Nyssa’s exacting standards. But Quentin thinks it’s the best cake he’s ever seen, and Nyssa damn near preens in delight when he tells her so.

Which leads to Sara dragging Nyssa back into the kitchen to kiss her some more. This time, with a bit less interruption.

Dorks, you both want to kiss each other. DO IT. For science? Barry, you're a scientist. Surely you understand.

ok so maybe, just maybe, you were right