#after arrow verse

[birdonawiresara]

Closed starter for @greentxppedarrow

Sara was running on autopilot. After Oliver’s funeral, she did her best to resume some semblance of a routine with William and Connor, while also giving them the space to grieve however they needed to. It was the weekend, and as was what was becoming the norm for William, he hid in his room. She checked on him, making it clear she was always there to talk, or to listen, or to just sit with him, but he mostly wanted to be alone. She respected that. As for Connor, he was all over the place. It was too much for a five-year-old to understand. So one minute he’d be sobbing, and the next he’d be confused. Asking when dad was coming home. She did her best to explain to him in terms that he could understand that he wasn’t, but it didn’t seem to matter, and the cycle just started over again. So, feeling exhausted and alone, she carried a bowl of Teddy Grahams and his special seal water bottle out to the couch, preparing for another round of hours of Animal Planet with her youngest.

[birdonawiresara]

Continued from here:

@manyneverknow

These were the moments where Sara’s League training kicked into high gear. It didn’t matter that the fight was over, it didn’t matter that the ‘mission’ was successful, she still didn’t have the luxury of falling apart. Especially not here, not out in the open. So she compartmentalized, forcing the memory to the back of her mind as she regulated her breathing, hearing the man’s words but not responding to them until she was sitting on the curb, “I’ve had worse.” A flash of three arrows. A flash of falling. A flash of hearing Laurel crying. Once again, she pushed back at the memory before saying, “I cracked the back of my head on the floor. Probably bleeding, likely have a concussion. Nothing that I haven’t dealt with before - appreciate the offer, though.” Still, he insisted, and she waved her hand in the air as if to say go on then. Beneath her blonde hair, he’d find countless old scars. Scars that said she’d undersold what she told him, what she’d endured. “...I don’t have patience for bullies, especially when it comes to women. Next time they’ll think twice. Wonder who else might be in the room with them...”

[birdonawiresara]

Closed starter for @brokenandlonelysouls

Sara heard the other person approaching before she saw them, nudging the stool next to her back a bit - the only other open stool at the bar - so it would be easier for them to sit down. As the man came into view, she downed more of her drink before offering, “A word of warning? Their whiskey is shit, but their vodka’s not bad. Do with that what you will.” She punctuated her words with another long drink.

[birdonawiresara]

Closed starter for @ofinkandalibis

Sara was desperate to take a sip of her coffee - and usually, the tongue burn was worth it - but the cup was practically scalding, so she blew on it as she walked down the street...

...and a man clipped her from behind, causing it to burst open and the liquid to explode across her arm and chest. She briefly looked behind her. Woman on the ground, struggling to stand, her arms empty. No purse, no bag. Nothing.

Sara took off running, catching up with ease and tackling the man - carrying a purse, to absolutely no one’s surprise - to the ground. He struggled, but she held onto him with ease, making threatening remarks about coffee and purses as a police officer caught up to them.

“I believe this belongs to you.”

[birdonawiresara]

Continued from here:

@missmargomuse616

Sara smirked, shaking her head, “Frequent those when I have cash, too.” But coffee and donuts were something she got to enjoy - the complete opposite of the protein bars or canned foods that she normally ate. Whereas most of the time, if she was at a bar, she was drowning her sorrows. And not by getting drunk - she could drink a lot, and she’d be lucky if she even managed to get tipsy - but to just... sit in the bar, she supposed, and feel the burn of the liquor as it ran down her throat. The other woman’s words brought her out of her thoughts and she nodded in agreement, “This is my first time, but they make a great donut; they’d easily rank high on my long list. And never really did worry about my waistline.” Mostly because she spent the majority of her life training, patrolling, or fighting. She then wiped off any remnants of donut on a napkin before taking the other woman’s extended hand and giving it a firm shake, “It’s nice to meet you, too, Margo - I’m Sara. And no, like I said, it’s my first time. Just something of a donut connoisseur. Easy to know good quality when I taste it.”

[birdonawiresara]

Continued from here:

@inhumanhacker

It made sense that Sara was having a nightmare about death. Her whole life seemed to revolve around it since her own resurrection. First Laurel was killed. Then her father. And now Oliver. It was constantly on her mind, she was constantly trying to rework things that couldn’t be reworked, that couldn’t be changed, and yet it occupied her every thought. Her every day. It inhabited her. So of course when she fell asleep after days without it, she put herself back in the place where her soul had been trapped when her body had initially been resurrected without it. A mock Lazarus Pit with mottled limbs that pulled at her from every direction, and she cried out, and it didn’t matter how hard she fought, she always drowned. And then the whole thing started again. Which was why when she felt someone shaking her arm, her eyes flashed open, and she went for the neck. Despite knowing how it would end, despite knowing she would drown for what seemed like an eternity until Laurel and Oliver pulled her out (they were dead they were dead they were dead), she would keep fighting.

[birdonawiresara]

Continued from here:

@cannibr4t

Sara looked ‘pretty okay’ because she chose to. Because she was taught a long time ago to keep her pain and her suffering and any other sort of vulnerability to herself, or that there would be consequences - in or out of the field. Which was why she appeared so nonchalant as she turned around, showing her leather jacket-clad back to the man, a bleeding bullet wound in the upper left corner. Then she turned back to face him, “Not a through-and-through, bullet’s stuck. But if you want me to wait in chairs...”

[birdonawiresara]

phobias - do they have any phobias/distinct fears?

Phobia would imply a fear that is crippling, that overtakes one’s ability to move forward, and Sara was stripped of that luxury during her time with the League. Fear or not, she has to push through.

With that being said, this line from S2 of Arrow sticks out to me: “If they hurt you or Laurel or mom, then I really would die.” She has lost Laurel and her father. Her mother has, essentially, cut her out of her life. And the show ends with her losing Oliver, who she recognizes as her final anchor, the last person who knew her before - and, in his case, during the time in between - and after the Gambit. There’s no one else like that in her life. She has friends, but even they have gone off in their separate directions, leading their separate lives. So her worst fears have come to pass. And while things are always verse-dependent, generally speaking she tends to feel adrift now, a lot like that ghost that returned home in S2.

Oh, and don’t expect her to volunteer to go on any boats, islands, or in any jacuzzis (thank you, the Lazarus Pit) anytime soon. Don’t get me wrong, she’ll do it if a mission requires it, but there aren’t any tropical vacations in her future.