#arrowverse is whack

[talas-first-lady]

Every other superhero in the arrowverse: Wow, taking care of a city is hard, but I'm a professional! I can do this! I only occasionally have to deal with threats out of my paygrade

The Legends, running around whacking Demons, speedsters, assasains, time pirates, and other magic bs with various cleaning supplies: This is fine :D (Something blows up in the background)

[uselessnocturnal]

Stupid for You

olivarry secret santa 2018 | blind date

summary;; it starts with a blind date and a mistake but slowly becomes so much more.

notes;; This is my Secret Santa gift to @likeaspeedingarrow and I think I managed to combine elements from all the tropes you gave me :) I hope you like it and happy holidays! // special thanks to @temmie-loony and @zealousconnoisseurrebel for helping me out

read the full fic on ao3

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Barry has been waiting in Stubbs for twenty-seven minutes now. The waiters have started giving him pitying looks as they serve him yet another glass of tap water – even the lady sitting in the corner of the café shoots him a sympathetic glance over the rim of her mug before returning to an animated conversation with her friends.

Fingers drumming against the marble table, he ducks his head, feeling oddly exposed sitting in the centre of the coffee shop alone at a table for two. His phone lights up and his heart leaps to his throat, having finally been acknowledged.

the best: sorry, barr! i’m going Christmas shopping with eddie

nerd: you only have two days left!

nerd: how have you not bought everything?

the best: i know i know sorryy

the best: rain check?

It takes all of Barry’s self-control not to groan out loud. It’s not the first time Iris has cancelled plans with him for her most recent love interests (in this case it’s Eddie but the difference is that Barry actually likes this guy). He’s not jealous in any way – Iris is practically his sister! – in fact, he’s happy for them; even then, it would have been nice if she’d texted him before he ended up humiliating himself in his sad isolation.

For goodness sake, everyone thought he had been stood up by a blind date! A single half-eaten slice of cheesecake sits temptingly in front of him – a pity gift that the waiters blessed upon him. It would’ve been humiliating if the cake hadn’t tasted so good.

All things considered, though, he couldn’t be too bitter. It’s some twisted sense of tasting his own medicine – especially since he’s definitely left Iris waiting at least an hour and a half before at some convention.

He’s just about to leave when his eyes flicker to the door, its bell still ringing and everything stops.

Oliver Queen walks through the door. Oliver-freaking-Queen.

There’s a surprising lack of reaction amongst the other patrons – either they don’t notice (too distracted by their own conversations) or they don’t recognise him. Heck, Barry’s not even sure if it actually is Oliver Queen; the man is only wearing a thin autumn jacket over a shirt and jeans which is ridiculous considering the sub-zero temperature outside.

Barry is frozen. Every thought in his brain is screaming for him to get a grip and look away or act casual or something – anything is better than blatant staring! Really, who can blame him. Oliver Queen is a god walking the mortal grounds. Everything from his clear but guarded blue-green eyes and his muscles to his confidence and the way he can silence a crowd with a single look. If Oliver Queen claimed the sky was purple, several would probably actually check.

Though not exactly a celebrity, the Queens are relatively well known: especially with Robert Queen getting lost at sea and the consequent plummet of Queen Consolidated. Oliver Queen himself had been a bit of a legend before, having been a well-known billionaire’s playboy son. Now, however, he seems to keep to himself, slowly building his father’s company back up and keeping away from the tabloids. There really isn’t that much Barry knows about him – except that Oliver is very hot.

Barry is still watching at Oliver as the man scans the room. Next thing Barry knows, Oliver has those demanding blue eyes fixed on him and is striding in a clear and direct path to Barry’s table.

He’ll deny it in the future, but he panics.

There are literal seconds before Oliver reaches his table and, in true Barry Allen style, he tears his gaze away and attempts some semblance of nonchalance by jamming his glass to his mouth before realising that it’s empty and now he looks like even more of an idiot.

Whether Oliver doesn’t notice or chooses to spare Barry the humiliation, it’s a true blessing that he decides not to mention anything.

Oliver stops by the empty seat opposite Barry and Barry makes proper eye contact for the first time. There’s a slight tilt in Oliver’s lips – the kind of framed smile that people have as they’re about to make an important business transaction. And yet, Oliver shifts his weight from one foot to another, his eyes slightly uneasy.

He’s nervous, Barry realises, along with something along the lines of whythefuckohmygoshwhat.

“Hi...ah,” Oliver begins his question with a lack of fluency that is uncharacteristic for him, “are you my blind date?”

Now, Barry’s had a lot of shocks today and it seems to be snowballing to become even more chaotic but this? This was ridiculous.

All it takes is a single question to unleash the rambling mess that is Barry Allen.

It’s as though he’s lost his brain to mouth filter and his limbs aren’t even functioning properly and oh gosh is he trying to stand up?

“I’m Barry,” he introduces, scrambling up to shake the other man’s hand, almost knocking over his glass, “I’ve been here for quite a while...not that I’m trying to make you feel bad! I just - uh -”

Oliver takes Barry’s warm hand in his own, skepticism colouring his eyes.

“Right - ah - sorry,” Barry’s head lowers praying that the burning in his cheeks isn’t obvious, “Should we sit down? I think- I think we should sit.”

With all the grace and poise of a CEO in the making, Oliver takes the chair opposite Barry’s, barely drawing any attention to his practically incoherent speech.

“Oliver Queen” he reinforces, smiling slightly in the hope that it’d put the young man at ease, “it’s nice to meet you, Barry.”

There’s almost frantic head bobbing, “Yeah, I know. That you’re Oliver, not the second part,” he winces, suddenly realising how creepy that sounds, “I’m sorry, I tend to go off when I’m nervous, I’ll stop now. It’s nice to meet you too. You can have some of this cheesecake.”

Letting out a less-than-obvious breath, Barry sinks into his chair, watching Oliver carefully poke at the cake with a fork and praying that maybe - just maybe - he’d be able to control his speech

There’s no obvious sign that Oliver’s getting more comfortable but he’s not leaving either so that’s a good sign, Barry decides. And then it hits him: Oliver’s here on a blind date. He thinks I’m his blind date.

Really and truly, Barry has messed up.

“So, Barry, what do you work as?” Oliver starts, somehow composed despite Barry’s apparent humiliation.

Good. Great. This is a question Barry can answer without messing up. “I’m a CSI at CCPD - assistant CSI actually. I’ve been working there for a couple of years now.”

Oliver nods like that makes sense and hey, maybe this conversation isn’t too bad after all!

“There have been the recent cases,” Barry remembers, his eyes lighting up, “they’re so...bizarre.”

Immediately, he launches into the story of a murder involving a banjo and a microwave and Oliver listens in fascination, a small smile on his face as he listens to the brunette speak with such passion.

“Why a CSI?” Oliver asks, leaning forward in his seat.

Barry pauses, the usual lie already sitting on his tongue instead decides to be honest, “Well, my father got framed for my mother’s murder.”

Oliver stills suddenly, hyperaware of the feelings and guilty for stumbling upon a sensitive topic but Barry carries on, trying to veer the conversation away from this sombre tone, “I am learning to accept it...it’s not easy and I’m never going to stop trying to find the real killer but it no longer plagues me at night.”

He offers Oliver a soft and sincere smile, a show of support that someday it will get better.

“Even so,” Barry adds sheepishly, “I’m a bit of a science nerd so I probably would have ended up in a similar situation anyway.”

He doesn’t really give Oliver time to respond, instead plunging into another unique topic of conversation, “Ya know zombies do exist?” before going on to describe zombie ants and they get sucked in to their own bubble of a world which is all hope and light and God, how did Barry get on to talking about penguins.

“They’re the most loving of all animals!” Barry insists, arms flailing, “they huddle and everything!”

Oliver’s arms rest on the table as he laughs. A true laughter that kind of resounds throughout the coffee shop, the sound of the smile in his eyes overflowing into the air.

It’s that moment Barry knows he really is in trouble.

Watching Oliver grin, all-teeth and eyes, hearing his laughter...Barry knows he would do anything to keep that kind of joy on Oliver Queen’s face. Which is ridiculous because he’s crushing on a guy who thinks Barry is his date when he really isn’t.

This is a mess.

It only gets worse when there’s suddenly a mess of blonde hair and scarf appears in the corner of his vision.

“Ah, hi,” she starts, readjusting her glasses and turning to Oliver, “Are you Oliver?”

One glance at his narrowed eyes and she ploughs on, “I’m so sorry – there was this bus and some really bad traffic and I knew I was going to late…but I’m here now!”

A hesitant laugh escapes her and she sticks out a firm hand, “Felicity. Smoak. Laurel Lance set us up I think?”

The bubble doesn’t pop. It freezes and shatters.

There’s a sinking feeling in Barry’s stomach. Oliver’s eyes widen infinitesimally, not-quite hurt rolling off him in waves, as he turns to stare questioningly at Barry who ducks his head, avoiding further eye contact and hopes that the burning shame is not at all obvious.

The woman, Felicity, holds her hands up and gestures vaguely to the two, “Wait. Am I- am I interrupting something?”

Yes. Barry wants to say but how can he when the situation is his fault anyway.

Through his lowered lashes he can see Oliver tilt his head and put on a half-smile.

“No, not at all. Barry and I were just catching up,” he reassures her with all the ease of a CEO.

Barry’s head shoots up, all too willing to go along with the lie, “Ye-yeah, no, don’t worry about it. I was just leaving.

Stumbling to his feet like a deer just learning to walk - all limbs and no coordination - Barry gathers his jacket up and gives Felicity what he hopes is a reassuring smile but could be mistaken for a grimace, painfully aware that his ears are scarlet and refusing to meet Oliver’s eyes.

“Sorrysorrysorry,” he mumbles - both to Felicity for being in her way and to Oliver for...everything, “it was nice - uh -seeing you, Oliver.”

Head lowered, he speed walks (read: scrambles) out of the café where the bitter wind slaps him.

For a moment he stands there, the chill clawing into his bones, absolutely mortified.

What the hell did he just do?

continue reading here

[deanwasalwaysbi]

How cool would it've been if in the last episode, they'd saved Cas from the empty, destroying it in the process and causing it to spit back out everyone they'd sent there over the years.

You’ve got your welcome familiar faces like Gabriel, Hannah, Balthazar, Crowley and Meg. But you’ve also got it spitting out the likes of Lucifer, Alistair, Azazel and literally every demon they’ve ever killed with that knife.

Get rid of purgatory two while your at it. If they wanted to reset the characters to square one that is how to do it. Let them face the same problems having grown as people and with a lot more allies and a place to call home instead of a pair of brothers living out of their car.

That’s how I would have ended Supernatural. Back to square one. Go. Standing back to back in a field and so ready for whatever gets thrown at them. (And just begging for a movie spinoff/follow up.)

I really thought that was what they were doing at the beginning of Season 15  - That we would have a final season full of nostalgia overlaying the plot because Chuck had opened the gates of hell. that worried me but there was a way to do it well, facing old nightmares and realizing how much they’ve grown. 

A restoration of the angels could be a huge penance for Castiel who has immense guilt having had such a hand in their all but annihilation, but I don’t want tfw at square one at the finale, I don’t want their 15 years of suffering to have been futile.  Though tbh that’s the problem with the finale we got.  The brothers really do end at square one, alone, with no direction.  Doomed to aimlessly crisscross the country playing monster whack-a-mole.  They have grown, they have people, they have a found family, and ... where are they?

Upsetting everything they had ever done to get a loved one back is a classic vintage Winchester move.  On the one hand like - in character and YES Dean doing it for someone he romantically loves instead of his brother - on the other have they not grown?   Or maybe it happens but everyone’s evaluation of who is good and who is evil needs to be recalibrated in terms of Chuck and the meta narrative.  If they were going to go where they did, instead of Lucifer being an evil shit, he could have been cleared of the mark’s effects and shitty but vindicated in his assessment of Chuck like - he was right and the show and the brothers never acknowledge it.

There was too big a set up with no pay off, and I don’t think I can accept any season 15, any finale, that does not get epic.  Where is my interdimensional showdown?? (even if it would feel VERY C*w right now bc of the arrowverse) - Where is my coalition of Sams & Deans? Where are the earth prime Winchesters fighting separately and leading different fronts: Sam leading the coordinated interdimensional spell work against Chuck while Dean leads a more physical assault against Chuck’s forces or the Empty to save Cas and Jack.

It would be a way to bring back any characters they chose through the power of the multiverse.

I forget whose post it was that pointed it out, but Dean leading an assault on the empty to save Castiel would bring the narrative through its full circle from Castiel leading the assault on hell to save Dean. The narrative symmetry was set up so perfectly, and covid or no covid, it looks like they never recognized it.  

My idea of an ideal reboot would completely erase episodes 19&20 and be a 6 episode fix it. At this point the first failure raised the bar for what I would and would not be willing to accept. If they are not going to show an explicitly reciprocal Dean I don’t want one. 

[lovevalley45]

"there will be brood" thoughts pt. 1

damn that sure is a way to start

Oh No

that explains the neon lighting in the lab

OH FUCK

well shit there's half the team stuck at john's

did bishop just make everything neon for fun

ASTRA MAKING HERSELF A SNOWGLOBE

astra: get ur hands off me

zari insulted him for his turtlenecks but they suit bishop quite well ngl

ASTRA NOT HAVING A DRIVER'S LICENCE KFF

howdy howdy howdy

ooh spicy

also i love them still in their modern day clothes

astra did roll up in there like "bitch,"

ODESSA TEXAS

fun fact i've always liked the name odessa

oof ouch that hurts

shared mommy issues

mushrooms,,, being an alien species,,,,

new arrowverse lore dropped

this is very close to john pluckin a random mushroom n eating it

oh that's her daughter/young spooner

john what u up to

SECRETLY FROM THE PAST

i freaked out when she introduced herself to esperanza n my mom was like ????

astra looks like she's abt to go n whack john's shit right here right now and honestly,,, valid

[snackaston-reese]

People calling Lena a cold-blooded murderer for killing Lex are whack. Like y’all do realize that the entire arrowverse started over a character who became a vigilante and killed bad people because he thought he was protecting his city and the people around him right? Oliver is a hero but Lena is a pariah because of those actions and that makes no sense

[kleptoandpyro]

Barry Allen + Alcohol

Arrowverse Headcanon #4 (+ Joe West)

I can’t stop thinking about Drunk!Barry at his bachelor party and what probably happened.

Because seriously you know this dumbass bitch got so whacked on that Speedster alcohol that he just turns to Joe like, "wE should totally invite Snart, I even have his nummber!"

Joe: *snaps himself in two reacting* No Barry that is a terrib- Barry: *flinches* Joe: ... Joe: You just texted him at super speed didn't you Barry: *smugface*

Much later that night there'd be a knock on the door and Joe would answer it and see Snart stood there with Barry over his shoulder like, "Does this belong to you."

Joe: Barry?! He's been missing for hours! Where the hell did you find him? Len: I came home and found him crying on my doorstep Joe: Barry? Barry: hE nevEr responded to my text and I thhhhought he was dEad *hic*

Other Hcs:

(If Len had met Constantine) (Why Len Doesn’t Drink) (Len the Team Mom) (Len Vs the Brig)

[dykerachelsummers]

imma be real i didn’t read the whole list so i’m just gonna put random numbers so uhhhhh: 2 ;) (that one i did read), 12, 20, 22

2. do you like the arrowverse? if so what’s your favorite show?

ABBY YOU KNOW I HATE ARROWVERSE WITH A FIERY PASSION. SIS. WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME. ugh black lightning is the only stannable arrowverse show. lot is okay and gay but i never watched past s1

12. favorite animated movie?

justice league: war is so fuckign bad but owns my ass bc it’s so funny. the scene where hal tries to attack darkseid, gets whacked outta the air, n then gets the shit beaten outta him by a bunch of parademons? g-d tier. honorary mention to wonder woman (2009) bc im dyke and that version of artemis is the specific reason why

20. young justice (show) or teen titans (show)?

um. er. i cant choose bc tt03 was one of my fav shows as a child but yj had artemis crock and i AM a lesbian. but tt03 had raven and like. goth gf. what do u expect from me. actually i choose yj bc i like their dick better

22. favorite robin?

ok i wanna say steph bc she’s my amazing and i stan but actually it’s dick bc he’s my fav dc character so like. hrng. yeah stan dick grayson

send me dc asks!

[bart-allen-speaks]

What do you think of the Arrowverse and his version of your grandpa ?

What the hickity heck knick knack paddy whack is an "Arrowverse"?

[prettylittleliarsxxxx]

This is the shot: A slim, twentysomething white man, pale and dark-haired, waits in the center of the frame, head tilted fractionally to catch a glimpse of something (someone?) the viewer can’t see. He is wearing a dark jacket with a high collar, and a dark ball cap, even though he is inside, even though it is night. The collar is pulled up to obscure his too-romantic silhouette; the cap is pulled down to obscure his too-soulful eyes. This is the kind of man who literary heroines—or at least literary-minded ones—swoon over, but with so much of his face obscured, it is only his cheekbones, high and almost too pronounced, that signal such classic desirability.

Such a signal is important. Because everything else about this shot shouts that this man is a stalker: From the blurring of important details in the background, to the juuuust too-closeness of it, to the shadows cast from odder angles than seem natural, every aspect makes us want to scream at the heroine, RUN AWAY, LEAVE, HOW CAN YOU NOT SEE WHO THIS PSYCHO IS???. And so we need something, some small thing, to remind us, when this man is not actually dressed to kill, when he’s not staring at the device he’s got tracking her every digital step, why she can’t see what we see. And that small thing is: He is attractive.

Duh.

This, of course, is why this man’s story works. The fight-or-flight reflex his behavior should provoke in the object of his obsessions is counteracted by his charming physical appeal—lust, at least initially, wins out over fear, and as it does, provides the tension necessary to drive the narrative we keep tuning in for.

The trick is, how the show wants to resolve that tension is a question of cultural time. As in, when the handsome stalker was Ezra Fitz (Ian Harding) in Freeform’s teen thriller, Pretty Little Liars, just four short (long) years ago, the romantic hero vs. predator tension was invoked only as a means of creating a temporary road block to eventual nuptial bliss between A Good Man and his (high-schooler) sweetheart. Now, when the handsome stalker is Joe Goldberg (Penn Badgley) in Lifetime’s adult thriller You, here in the year of Goddammit Are We Collectively Still Not Taking #MeToo Seriously (a.k.a. 2018), the tension is very clearly meant to resolve not only in Joe’s psychopathy being found out, but in his sweetheart’s (and our) delusions of obsession-as-romance shattering completely.

Understanding that this is You’s endgame is helped, of course, by the fact that (spoilers) Joe straight-up whacks a romantic rival in the skull with a book mallet in the series’ pilot, then kills him with peanut oil after holding him hostage for all of episode two. But even if he didn’t go that far, that early, series creators Greg Berlanti (of the Arrowverse) and Sera Gamble (of The Magicians) make no effort to suggest that we in the audience should be ambivalent about Joe’s character, who addresses the narration of nearly every sequence to an idealized fantasy of Beck (Elizabeth Lail), the “you”-object of his affections, whom he spies from the other side of the book shop he manages in the series’ opening scene and immediately starts scheming to own. In fact, if Berlanti and Gamble make any effort in any direction, it is to keep reminding us that Joe is bad: Take centuries of art romanticizing the unwavering fixation of a handsome man on a single woman and add to it the sea of mundanely callous dudes in the modern dating scene, and you get an audience that’s been trained out of any ability to keep an attentive, clever, present guy, who likes books and making jokes and who is, on top of it all, moppily handsome, at any kind of wait-and-see remove. Like cognitive behavioral therapy, but for the propagation of violent loopholes in rape culture—without intervention from the puppeteers behind Joe’s dark adventures, we might trip over those loopholes and fall to our Joe-shaped doom.

It’s tempting to think that they aren’t doing this, as so much of You is staged as the exact kind of dreamy romance Joe imagines himself to be facilitating and Beck believes herself to be living. Each episode opens on a series of slow, bird’s-eye pans of New York City in early autumn, set to some kind of unobtrusively sweet indie-ish acoustic background music. Scenes with Joe and Beck together are filmed with a warm, golden filter, the background details and even the edges of the foreground taking on a comfortable kind of soft-focus that seems to snuggle them together like a big, metaphorical duvet. If they are outside, the melody of bird song is prominent. If they’re inside, the shush of pages turning and life being lived together is turned high. But when juxtaposed with the brittle, hard-focus, doom-soundtracked reality of the scenes of Joe’s life outside of his and Beck’s “romance,” the delusionally fantastic nature of those softer scenes is made obvious: They are all in Joe’s head, and while Beck may be living in the same fantasy at the moment, Joe’s head is a bad, dangerous place.

“Yeah, but he loves her, but he’s sweet, but it’s a love story!” Badgley imagined eventual fans arguing when he and Lail sat down for an interview with E! News earlier this summer. “In what world?! I don’t believe that’s love. I don’t think that love equals this, so I think we have to question, what is love, and if we think this is love, where are we mistaken?”

Where is throughout all of hetero-romantic pop culture. More acutely, where, I would (and already started to) argue, is in Pretty Little Liars, which not only features Joe’s stalker ancestor in the form of Ezra “I’ll Be Watching You” Fitz, but is in actuality one of the two other shows about attractive young people swept up in cyberstalking that every elevator pitch of You invokes. (The other, of course, is Gossip Girl. ) I spent the better part of three years and many hundreds of thousands of words arguing exactly how many rape culture/toxic masculinity balls Pretty Little Liars and the creator-blessed endgame of #Ezria dropped, so I neither need nor want to retread rageful ground here. But I do need to point out that none of those elevator pitches invoking Pretty Little Liars are doing so for the fact that You is finally juggling all the poisonous balls PLL, and, in its earlier way, GG, let fall—they’re doing so because stalking is a superficial thread throughout all three, and because You’s stars include PLL’s Shay Mitchell and GG’s Badgley. That’s it.

The thing is, the fact that You is treating the subject of violent masculine entitlement and obsessive, possessive “love” with more deadly gravity than either of its teen predecessors isn’t subtle; watch the first five minutes of the pilot and you’ll get that. But that’s the point I’m trying to make: You have to watch the first five minutes of the pilot to see it. If you just look to the promo interviews and red carpet soundbites and fluffy entertainment news tweets and headlines, our collective inability to accept the violent potential of the bad men in our midst is laid bare: Joe’s psychopathic character is translated as him being a mere “creepazoid,” according to the photo caption in Vulture’s review, while You itself is cheerfully summed up as a “messy, murderous romp.” According to a teaser interview with Entertainment Tonight last fall, Mitchell declared the show to be “juicy… It still has all those elements that PLL had with it being sort of a mystery, there’s a romance part to it and it’s just exciting.” Back on E! News, while the article anchoring Badgley and Lail’s interview sports the title, “Penn Badgley Is ‘Really Troubled’ By Anyone Thinking You Is a Love Story,” it eventually can’t help but suggest that, “What Joe does is not really harassment from what Beck can see, but from the viewer’s perspective, it’s not quite not harassment and also not quite not [sic] love.”

!!!!!!!

It’s true, as Kathryn VanArendonk argues in that Vulture review above, that the tone of You isn’t steady, but I’d argue in response that this is less an indicator of the show not being serious enough to be more than a romp, and more a reminder that we are not, as a species, that great at metabolizing the idea that multiple, contradictory things can be true about a person or a situation at the same time. Especially if that person is a man, and especially if the contradictions involve a woman. I am filing this piece on the weekend before the Senate Judiciary Committee plans to hear testimony in the alleged violent attempted rape of a 15-year-old girl by then-17-year-old Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh, and likely no one reading these words is unaware that “boys with be boys,” “that was just horseplay,” and “what is harassment anyway???” have resurfaced, in response, as an apparently reasonable foundation for the debate between men’s ability to gain fame and fortune and women’s basic humanity. “Two things can be true at the same time” has become a kind of clarion call across justice-minded social media, but that doesn’t mean it has been absorbed by everyone, on every level.

And so we get: Romp. Juicy. Romance. Not quite harassment. We get Ezra Fitz as pop culture’s most recently successful romantic stalker model. We get the urge to make excuses and carve a path for a bad man’s not-all-badness, even being inside Joe’s head in a way we could never be in Fitz’s, even knowing how he thinks, how he watches, how he transgresses Beck’s digital and physical privacy—even knowing how he murders people to get closer to her. We get that urge because we are also getting Joe swinging from murderously delusional to relatably jokey (his inner monologue as he disposes of his romantic rival’s body in episode three, and later as he picks up jogging to better follow Mitchell’s Peach, is particularly funny) to empathetically invested in making the daily life of his neglected kid neighbor just a bit richer and safer and less sad in a way that isn’t inconsistent so much as it is human, and in its humanity is challenging for us to accept.

Perhaps not surprisingly, the most emphatically unequivocating take I’ve found on the non-romance of You comes from Badgley himself, whose every interview has centered his utter rejection of anything positive one might try to shake out of Joe, or Beck, or Joe and Beck’s “relationship.” One of the most illuminating is the one he did with Devon Ivie at Vulture. It is worth reading in its entirety, but his response to why he took on a stalker role now, in 2018, stands out:

“Now that we’ve made the first season and I’ve been gauging reactions with critics and friends and viewers, I can say there’s a certain accountability—an emotional and psychological responsibility—that we hold the viewers and Joe to. It’s not this wildly irresponsible, escapist fantasy at the perfectly wrong time. I think the show came out at the right time, because any other time, we wouldn’t have had the courage at a social level and have conversations about why we’re drawn to it, but also why we know we shouldn’t reward it. We don’t want to reward Joe more than how he’s already being rewarded.

And as to whether or not he thinks that “viewers will cheer on this depraved man for being a self-described ‘fool in love’,” Badgley responded, “To me, a conversation I hope it starts is, What is it about the show that’s compelling? Why am I watching it? Am I enjoying it? Am I agreeing with Joe? What about all of this do I enjoy most? […] The degrees of which you’re enticed and excited by a show, there’s a lot more scrutiny in terms of the stories we’re interested in telling and consuming—the things we’re still charmed by and attracted to. Because Joe shouldn’t be allowed to behave the way he does. But only the viewer can decide.”

Shortly before Pretty Little Liars was set to air the last half of its seventh and final season, I flew out to Los Angeles to join my co-recappers at the show’s final PaleyFest panel. There were still ten episodes to go before the finale, and we held out hope that the series that had, in its bravest moments, been the most subversively anti-rape culture on television, might be about to burn the whole of Rosewood’s toxic patriarchy to the ground. The viewers who congregated in our comments section every week had certainly decided that that was the only way Pretty Little Liarscould end with integrity. Ten episodes! Ezra could STILL be A! His stalking could be revealed as the toxic danger it always was! But then we got to PaleyFest, and the entire theater was filled with fans whose only interests were the romantic lives of the cast, both onscreen and off, with the #Ezria endgame front and center.

Reader: #Ezria was endgame. And after giving fans like me a single fever dream of the show’s best character beating the daylights out of a jailed Ezra before letting his high-school sweetheart forgive him, the show was so proud of its own cleverness.

It’s 2018 now. #MeToo is only growing stronger as it complexifies, and as more projects like You get made by people who, like Badgley, Berlanti and Gamble, are entirely disinterested in giving bad men a path to not-all-badness. Joe is an outlier, but our willingness to soften the evil of his—fictional, patently obvious, easily condemned—violent obsession is the water we’ve been swimming in for too long. We can decide, as viewers and as people, to start demanding cleaner pools.

You airs Sundays at 10 p.m. on Lifetime.

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

Okay, finished the Flash season two as part of my rewatch of the whole series in preparation for season 5. Here’s my thoughts:

GOOD

1) Cisco’s superhero origin story is still one of my favorite arcs on this show

2) Zoom was a great Big Bad. Good backstory, good motivation, and he was just a great character to hate. His murder of Henry Allen still stands as one of my favorite moments on the show. 

3) Everything about Earth-2. Killer Frost, Reverb, Detective West...I just loved every single second of it. 

4) The Speed Force episode. Well freaking done, especially with having Nora Allen be the final manifestation of the Force.

5) Fully integrating Joe and Iris on the team. One of my big complaints of season one was that Iris was always on the sidelines. So having her on the team felt like an improvement.

6) Harry and Jesse Wells! One, best version of Harrison Wells so far. Two, Jesse is one of my favorite recurring characters on this show. She’s just fun to have around. 

7) The Linda Park episodes. She was okay to me last season but she became an instant fave this season. Her trying to pretend to be Doctor Light is still one of the funniest scenes this show has ever done. 

8) The Jay Garrick reveal in the season finale. You clever bastards. 

9) I already had faith in Grant Gustin’s ability to play Barry Allen but he truly proved his chops this season. Just, the opening of the season finale where he’s crying out in agony over his father’s death gave me chills. You know, I’m gonna go on record here saying that I think Grant is the best actor among the Arrowverse leads. 

OKAY

1) I really like Barry and Iris together but the writers were really slacking on progressing their relationship. 

2) Wally West. Don’t get me wrong, I love him in season 3 but here, he was stuck in “angsty teenager” mode. That would’ve been fine but it’s like that was the only way the writers knew how to write his character. 

3) The Reverse Flash episode was...eh. I get that it was supposed to introduce the concept of time remnants but I just found his return a bit weak. Although that might not be his fault entirely since this was also the episode Patty Spivot was leaving. I talk about her in the BAD section if you want to know my thoughts. 

4) Putting Caitlyn in a relationship with Zoom. She just lost her husband so it felt a little...distasteful. I know some time past since Ronnie’s death but I feel like there were better story angles for her character. Give her something else besides romance stories.  

5) Flashpoint. I don’t love or hate the arc but since it’s an important Flash storyline, I get why they would want to adapt it for the show. Still...I’m not a huge fan of Flashpoint. And the animated movie did it better. 

6) The Firestorm episode. I like Jefferson but the overall episode was average. Villain was weak and they downplayed the fact that Martin Stein was dying without a second half. 

BAD

1) Flash Back was fun but the time travel stuff was whack. What happened to Barry in the past? Present Barry meets his past self so by this show’s logic, there should be two Barrys in the present day. And how is history still the same? The only big difference is that Hartley’s now a good guy. This should’ve been a mini-Flashpoint since Barry meeting his past self and introducing the team to time travel early should’ve radically changed the timeline.

2) Zoom was great but there are plot holes to his character. So there were two Zooms because of time travel, that I understood. But if the first Zoom killed the Zoom that was in love with Caitlyn, then why did the first Zoom have the same feelings for her? The main Zoom shouldn’t have the same memories as the other Zooms since time remnants are clones. It’s not a hive mind. 

3) Patty Spivot was a waste of screen time. It’s not even a Westallen thing, her character just brought nothing to the show. By the time she left, I completely forgot about her. 

4) The Arrow crossover that was supposed to hype up Legends. It just sucked. I wanted to punch Hawkman and the plot didn’t interest me. I don’t even like Arrow and this was during their worst season too. 

5) Barry giving up his speed to Zoom made no sense to me. He was already faster than him and Joe and Harry had their guns on him. Just beat him up. 

6) Gorilla Grodd. I hated the Grodd episodes in season one and not much has changed in season two. It’s not that Grodd is a bad villain, it’s more that Grodd was a filler villain that kept disrupting the main story. Grodd should be the main villain of an entire season. It’s like the writers don’t know what to do with this character. 

Alright, onto season three. 

[uselessnocturnal]

Starstruck

karivarry | for @temmie-loony

summary; Oliver has two huge secrets. The first (which is sadly not as well kept as he would have liked) is that he’s the Green Arrow. His second secret, one that he would take to his grave if he could help it but he loves Barry and Kara so goddamn much that they would have found out eventually is this:

Oliver Queen is the biggest romantic.

Meaning that just because Kara and Barry had already proposed to Oliver in what he'd jokingly refer to as the chocolate cake disaster, didn't mean Oliver wasn't going to whisk his partners away for his own special surprise.

notes; This is a special (belated) birthday gift for our biggest karivarry fic contributor - the one and only who I’ve the best time talking to shared some of the best conversations with :) Fun fact: This is kinda low-key based on that one time I snuck out of the boarding house to go star gazing with my friends!

read it on ao3 here

Oliver has two huge secrets. The first (which is sadly not as well kept as he would have liked) is that he’s the Green Arrow. Yes, Oliver Queen likes to don green leather every night and go around saving the city by beating up criminals. At this point, he doesn’t care that so many people know about his secret identity (so long as he trusts them) because ultimately, it makes him stronger. Plus, the unkept secret lead to him meeting the best people in his life - Barry and Kara. There was no question that he may not have made the best first impression on either one of them, considering how he had strangled Barry after he’d just saved Oliver and somehow managed to make Kara ‘sunshine’ Danvers grumpy within the first few minutes of meeting her. Scratch his first statement; he definitely screwed up his introductions with his partners. And yet, the three of them just work.

Their relationship amazes their friends because of the number of ways it could go wrong. Even Oliver, as he lounges on the couch with Kara tucked into his side and Barry curled up on his lap, takes a mental step back to evaluate their relationship and is just slightly dumbstruck by how incredibly happy they all are together.

Leading to his second secret, one that he would take to his grave if he could help it but he loves Barry and Kara so goddamn much that they would have found out eventually.

Oliver Queen is the biggest romantic.

Most would assume Barry would be the one turning up unexpectedly at their work places to make them smile or Kara to force the others to leave their work and go on an actual date (which they actually do). But it’s really Oliver who drops quick texts to his boyfriend and girlfriend every now and then or drags them all to someone’s house for a quiet night together. He’s the mastermind behind their best dates and all three of them know it. He’s the kind of man to remember stupid things like the anniversary of their first date or the first time they were all together and send them flowers to celebrate it.

It’s an affectionate side of Oliver rarely shown to the rest of the world that Barry loves to tease him about, even though the other man can barely hide his own flush of joy whenever Oliver does something like this.

So of course, Oliver has something incredibly elaborate and perfectly romantic planned with Thea to propose to Barry and Kara. Something definitely better than the chocolate cake proposal he’d joke to Thea whilst the fondness in his eyes as he played with his ring told her that it had been anything but a disaster.

He’d bought (yes, bought) a cozy cottage on the outskirts of Coast City - away from both cities and an interdimensional extrapolator and, thus, being called for vigilantism. The rings were safely kept away in a velvet box which he kept on him at all times (so maybe not so safely) and Oliver planned to drive them over that weekend. Even though they had already proposed to him, there was no way Oliver was going to cancel his plans.

He had no choice but to propose to them again (needless to say, he was very excited)

Oliver should have remembered how excitable his boyfriend and girlfriend are. When he tells them that he’s taking them for the weekend, Kara’s eyes light up as she jumps on Oliver’s back and Barry throws his arms around the man and plants a kiss on his cheeks. Everything about the situation makes Oliver’s heart melt and he questions how he could have tried to stop himself from loving when there’s Barry and Kara in the world.

The two are like puppies (Barry would be a beagle and Kara a golden retriever), refusing to leave his side until he gives up where are we going? Ollie, tell us please to which he shakes his head firmly, trying so so hard not to let a smile creep across his face and give away how happy he is to be with them (he fails)

Somehow, he makes it to the weekend without breaking under Barry’s pouting and Kara’s big doe eyes - they tried to seduce him into telling them for goodness sake!

Getting the two into the car...easier said than done. It’s not that he forgot that his boyfriend is a speedster who just runs wherever he needed and his girlfriend is an alien who can fly but he forgot the impatience that came with it. He’s used to driving up a few seconds after them, his motorcycle roaring to a stop and reminding them, super speed - I don’t have it so they’d turn to him with a sheepish grin.

“Ollie, if you’d just tell us where it is I could run over and Kara could fly you over?” Barry suggests, trying to dig information out of his boyfriend though he knows it’s pointless.

Oliver shuts him up with a kiss and they clamber into the car, Barry fake-grumbling in the passenger seat and Kara bouncing in the back because this is gonna be so fun! It’s our first road trip! The line perks Barry up a lot more and he turns around to fight with Kara over music.

The road trip is the best any of them had ever had. There was something about being on the road with the people you loved, having the car filled with laughter and singing and endless complaints of hunger that made the two hour trip a lot shorter and before long, Oliver finds himself parking a short distance away from the cottage.

The suns just starting to set as Oliver leads his blindfolded partners through the greenery. They’ve got both hands on a shoulder each because neither of them have the grace and poise you’d expect and Barry keeps tripping over everything, including Kara and Oliver, so he needs the extra stability (and who’s to say he doesn’t appreciate the extra contact anyway). The walk is a comfortable sort of quiet broken only by Oliver’s warnings, the occasional gasp followed by a giggle. He stops suddenly in front of the house, causing the two to trip into him.

“O-liv-er!” Kara whines as Barry’s arm goes flailing and hits her in the face and they stumble to a stop.

Oliver tries to hide a soft chuckle and turns to face them, leaving them slightly stunned at the sudden emptiness.

“Okay, you can look now,” he breathes, heart pounding with the hope that they’ll like it.

Kara undoes her blindfold first, practically ripping it off whilst Barry struggles a bit, before pulling it away with a triumphant sound, looking smugly at his partners before laying eyes on the cottage.

“There’s a really weak reception in this area and I thought it would be nice to have somewhere we can get away from everyone else,” Oliver starts, “so I bought the cottage and– oomph”

There’s a lot of squealing and breathless ‘I love you’s from Kara as she literally flies into Oliver, a bundle of joy peppering his face with kisses. It looks like something out of a fairytale and it’s everything she’s ever dreamed of having with its thatched roof and roses creeping along the walls in the middle of a clearing surrounded by forest. Barry’s equally in awe, not to Kara’s extent, but he joins in on their little human pile, smothering Oliver who’s laughing and kissing them both until the three of them are just exhausted and they kind of just lay contently on the grass together in silence, watching the purple-orange sky change colour as the sun sinks behind the trees.

It’s so incredibly peaceful and they’re all just so happy to be together when it isn’t a crisis or they aren’t on call. Oliver lies in the middle as the two roll off him and lie on either side, fingers all intertwined and Barry and Kara’s hands resting on Oliver’s chest. It’s a moment that they would want to freeze and treasure forever.

Oliver’s the first to push himself off the grass, breaking through Kara and Barry’s linked hands, ignoring their quiet protests.

“C’mon,” he gestures to the cottage, rolling his eyes when they don’t move, “there’s food inside.”

The two are up in an instant (in a flash, the Barry in Oliver’s head whispers), Barry lifting Oliver’s left hand up to brush his lips across the knuckle where his ring rests and Kara reaching up on tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on Oliver’s cheek.

Oliver doesn’t even try to hide the bright blush creeping across his cheeks as he leads his partners into the cottage.

He can hear Barry and Kara’s quiet but sharp intake of breath as they step through the door, admiring the interior. It’s simple but spacious. There’s a large enough sofa for the three of them opposite a fireplace and in front of a coffee table. Already, Oliver has bought some of their favourite movies (musicals for Kara and Barry and Die Hard for him), which are neatly piled up next to a modest-looking TV. Another door leads to a single bedroom with a king-sized bed.

“Oooh, Ollie, we’re all sleeping in the same bed? Scandalous!” “Barry, we’re engaged.”

The kitchen is just a row of counters, an oven, a stove and a fridge but it’s still lovely and definitely what excites Kara the most because she can’t wait for Oliver and Barry to make a bunch of home-cooked meals.

“Did you do this all by yourself, Oliver?” Kara wonders.

“No…” Oliver admits sheepishly, “Thea designed most of it.” Barry snorts, drawing an indignant look from Oliver that prompts him to divert the conversation.

“You said something about food?” Barry asks hopefully, Kara looking equally starved as well. Oliver lets a fond smile cross his face – honestly, feeding these two is like feeding an entire army – and directs their attention to the multiple already full picnic baskets sitting somewhat innocently on the dining table.

Kara lets out another squeal of excitement and immediately begins loading Oliver and Barry up with baskets.

A wide smile stretches across her face as she turns, empty-handed, towards her struggling boyfriends, “outside?”

Oliver grunts out a yes and rushes to stop her from leaving without them. “Kara, honey, slow down.”

Her green eyes seem to dim a little but don’t lose any of its excitement and she shares an embarrassed smile with him.

When he steps through the door, it’s already nightfall, the sky a lovely blanket of darkness and the air is crisp and fresh. He can just about make out the stars and he thanks whatever deity watching over them for the clear weather.

Gesturing (as well as he can whilst carrying three massive picnic baskets) to the others to follow, he leads them to a little spot at the back of the cottage.

He can hear Barry’s sharp intake of breath and the small squeak that escapes Kara as they lay their eyes on the picnic area Oliver has laid out for them.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you Ollie?” A soft smile crosses Barry’s face as he bumps his shoulder against his.

Oliver can’t stop his one of his rare toothy grins from decorating his face. Seeing his partners - his soulmates - so happy and knowing that he is the cause for they're joy is not an emotion he can hide.

It’s honestly quite a simple set up. A large red and white checkered mat (a table wouldn’t fit all the food) is laid out on a clear patch of grass with one of those metal lanterns that Oliver knows Kara adores in the middle. Three sets of plates and cutlery - not the cheap plastic ones but dainty porcelain china plates - have already been laid out so they lounge on the mat and start unpacking the picnic basket.

There’s all sorts of food in there. A few sushi platters (sped into the country by Wally), giant pizzas with a strange variety of toppings, lasagna (Kara’s favourite), macaroni and cheese (Barry’s favourite) and Big Belly Burger because Oliver knows that a hungry speedster and alien will polish off all his homemade food without difficulty and will still want more. And to top it off, he has Alex’s homemade chocolate pecan pie which is definitely their favourite dessert. (Don’t even ask Oliver how he managed to persuade Alex to bake for them - he’s terrified of the woman)

It’s the most bizarre combination of cuisines but Barry and Kara love it and dig in without prompting.

Oliver’s full soon after his second helping of pie - not exactly an unusual feeling for him, he ponders as he watches his partners continue to devour the food, he doesn’t even want to know where it all goes. He continues to steal a slice of pizza every now and then but opts for mostly just talking to his boyfriend and girlfriend.

No matter how date nights they plan, very few actually happen (what with saving the world and all that) and they rarely do get to just enjoy each others company alone. So that’s what Oliver does. He basks in their light-hearted conversation and thrives in their laughter. He only wishes they could do this more often.

“Oh my Rao!” Kara scrambles to her feet, chocolate pecan pie forgotten, and points towards a seemingly random spot amongst the stars.

“What? What is it?” Barry asks eagerly - rising to join her and stare at the sky.

“I saw a shooting star!”

“Of course!” Barry exclaims in the it’s-science-stuff voice that Oliver and Kara think is adorable, “I read somewhere that there was going to be a meteor shower tonight! It’s so great that we can see it from here!”

And as though called upon, a bright dot streaks across the sky trailing light behind it. It’s the  

Oliver, still seated, tears his gaze from the incredible display, fingers drifting towards the little velvet box in his pocket.

“Did you make a wish?” He asks them quietly, not wanting to distract them. They shake their heads mutely, mouth still slightly agape in awe.

“We should make one,” he blurts out, realising just how cheesy it sounds even though he had planned this and oh God his cheeks are on fire thank goodness for the dark, “We should close our eyes and make a wish.”

Kara and Barry pay no attention to Oliver’s flaming face and humour him because a) they’re the best girlfriend and boyfriend in the multiverse and b) they’re actual children and probably would have done it anyway.

As soon as their eyes close, Oliver moves. Barry, he notices, scrunches up his nose and pinches his lips as he wishes and it takes all of Oliver’s willpower not to kiss the man there and then. Kara is a lot more peaceful, her eyes soft and relaxed with a slight smile on her face and Oliver is reminded of just how beautiful she is.

They finish making their wish at the same time (thank God, Oliver would not know what to do if one of them had opened their eyes before the other).

Their eyes flutter open and as soon as they snap to Oliver they freeze. Kara raise her hands to her mouth and Barry is biting his lips and trying so hard not to cry.

Oliver has one knee on the grass in front of them, a wide smile (with teeth!) beaming up at them, a velvet box open and presenting Barry and Kara with two simple, silver rings inside them.  

“Barry Allen and Kara Danvers,” he starts, swallowing the lump in his throat, “We definitely did not meet under normal circumstances. And neither did we get off on the right foot at first” he lets out a quiet chuckle, “But being with you makes me the happiest man alive and I want to spend the rest of my life with that happiness - with you.”

“I know you’ve already proposed to me with the chocolate cake,” a wet laugh escapes the two, “but I guess I wanted to ask anyway: Will you marry me?”

Barry cries.

Kara is close.

It’s not even a question - Kara is bobbing her head so frantically Oliver worries it might fall off and Barry is tumbling over his words (yes, ollie, of course, yes). After Oliver slides the rings on both their ring fingers and stands, the two pull him into a tight embrace.

“I love you so much.” Oliver sighs, his breath tickling their neck. He can feel their smile just like he can feel Kara’s pounding heart and Barry’s tears as they pull away and kiss him on both cheeks at the same time.

He’s so happy one of those soaring meteors could wipe out the universe and he wouldn’t even care as long as he was with Kara and Barry.

It’s a series of returned kisses and I love yous as they tumble back onto the grass, tangled limbs and cuddles until they settle on the grass to admire the last of the meteor showers.

“I can’t believe you planned this whole thing and Kara and I couldn’t even bake right.”

Barry muses, breaking the silence and jarring the other two out of their tranquil state, his joking tone eliciting a long breath like a laugh from Oliver and making Kara giggle and push herself up. Before the two can bring themselves to their feet, there’s a whoosh of air and the ground disappears.

It’s a comical sight to behold. Oliver’s eyes widen as he grabs the nearest thing to stop him from falling off…Kara’s back? He takes a peek over her shoulder to meet Barry’s equally confused eyes from his position in Kara’s arms.

Kara, on the other hand, is grinning like a child on Christmas. In her arms she carries Barry bridal-style and somehow managed to force Oliver onto her back so it looks like her boyfriends are koalas with attachment issues.

The two don’t even begin to question the how instead marvelling at the oh God, our girlfriend is strong. Barry lounges in Kara’s arms, laughing at Oliver’s slightly panicked and flushed expression from his piggybacked position.

“Kara, what the hell,” Oliver grumbles, not really annoyed but definitely a bit embarrassed. His girlfriend shrugs her shoulders somewhat innocently, rocking their very fragile balance and Oliver almost yelps, tightening his legs around her waist.

“God, if only someone could take a photo of us,” Barry moans as Kara starts to walk towards the cottage, staggering slightly as she adjusts to the extra weight.

Oliver shakes his head dragging out a ‘noooo’ even as he smiles against Kara’s neck, face hidden by her golden hair.

They sort of trip back into the cottage and Kara just throws Barry a good thirty feet onto the bed, barely giving him time to recover when she drops Oliver onto Barry so the older man is lying across Barry’s stomach. Kara, satisfied with her handiwork, perches herself at the bottom corner of the bed parallel to Oliver’s legs. Barry is groaning beneath him, threatening to push Oliver off the bed which Oliver chooses to ignore in favour of propping himself up to kiss Kara who watches them in fond exasperation.

And then there’s a sharp poke in his side and he jerks away from Kara and away from his attacker and lands on the wooden floor with a thump. Oliver sits there half-stunned, Kara staring down at him with her eyebrows scrunched in a mix of hurt and confusion and then there’s Barry who has pushed himself up against the headboard smugly looking down at Oliver.

“Wha-what happened? Where’d my kiss go?” Kara asks, stifling a laugh at Oliver’s awkward position on the floor.

“I poked him,” Barry declares gleefully.

“And it hurt,” Oliver grounds out the lie. Turns out, Oliver has a third secret: He’s very, very ticklish.

“I barely touched you! Unless…” Barry’s voice trails off and his smile somehow grows. He shares a practically evil look with Kara who seems to catch on almost immediately and her own mischievous smirk makes an appearance.

Sometimes he swears these two can read each others minds and he’s pretty sure that’s not in either of the super power list,

“Ollie…are you ticklish?” Kara draws out playfully, knowing full well the answer considering the terrifying grin on her face.

Oliver shakes his head almost frantically but it’s no use and he doesn’t get the chance to get any words out when Kara pounces on him. Her fingers are wriggling against his sides and he can’t stop laughing as he tries to push her away.

Just as he thinks he’s succeeded, Barry joins them on the floor, finding that spot with ease and using it to bring Oliver to tears of laughter. Kara laughs excitedly at the discovery and attacks without mercy so Oliver is curling into himself, trying to squirm away from them, weakly protesting against this particular form of attack.

Somehow Oliver works up the courage to move his arms, leaving his sides unguarded but giving him a chance to attack them blindly. It takes a couple of tries but Kara is brought down first (just because she’s invulnerable doesn’t mean she doesn’t have nerves), collapsing into peals of laughter – caught between protecting herself and tickling Oliver. Barry’s harder to take down with his speed. It’s not as hard, Oliver finds out, if he temporarily teams up with Kara, letting her jump onto Barry and pin him down so Oliver can serve up the ultimate revenge tickle.

They’re an absolute giggling mess, sprawled across the bedroom floor, slightly disheveled and full of breathless mirth occasionally interrupted by a shriek. And they’re happy.

In this moment, nothing else matters: joy comes easily and laughter is effortless and Oliver and Barry and Kara finally get to enjoy a moment of pure bliss.

[justgotham]

Who doesn't want Batman in the Arrowverse?

DC fans are lucky enough to live in a time when all of their favorite characters are taking over television. The Flash, Green Arrow, Supergirl and more are fighting through space and time across the Arrowverse on The CW, and Bruce Wayne is learning to be Batman over on FOX's Gotham. Wouldn't it be great if those two worlds could collide somehow?

While that's clearly not a realistic option, considering Gotham airs on a rival network and the tone of the series is vastly different from the Arrowverse, it's still fun for us to wonder what could be.

Self-proclaimed nerd and Gotham star David Mazouz apparently feels the same way. During an interview with the young actor, we asked what he'd do if he was going to make a crossover happen between the two worlds, and he had a great idea for the big event, although it did come with one major stipulation.

"First of all, if there's going to be a Crossover, they come to Gotham," Mazouz said. "That's kind of a must have because nobody in Gotham can time travel yet."

As he continued, Mazouz laid out a wonderful plan that utilized the Flashpoint storyline as a way to explain the difference in the two stories.

"The Flash kind of had their run-in with Flashpoint a couple of seasons ago. Maybe there could be another kind of Flashpoint where Flash runs back in time and goes to Gotham and maybe tries to stop Bruce Wayne's parents' murder from happening. Maybe not the traditional 'Bruce Wayne gets murdered instead and Thomas becomes Batman thing,' but something along those lines where the whole world gets whack and it's up to Flash to fix things in Gotham."

This would undoubtedly be fun to watch but, as we all know, there's no way these shows ever actually get to visit one another.

[themeleelobby]

The timelines are seriously whacked out... ••••• Follow Our Page For More ✌️😁 . . . . #theflash #barryallen #dccomics #dc #grantgustin #flash #arrowverse #legendsoftomorrow #oliverqueen #stephenamell #dcuniverse #comics #cw #westallen #TheFlash #felicitysmoak #ciscoramon #iriswest #melissabenoist #karadanvers https://www.instagram.com/p/B4lCxp9podz/?igshid=v6efiemeetlj

[notmyfandoms]

this whole crisis on infinite earth and its effects stuff is so fucking confusing

[jazon-todd]

Listen listen listen... I fucking HATE the cw characterization. The wigs? Whack. The costumes? Whack. The actors? Whack. The plot? Fucking whack. Every bitch on that show looks the same and they all suck. Also... like... could they even try to get further away from canon appearance. Like you could have at least cast a fucking redhead instead whatever that bitch ass is named

I apologize for the number of “bitch” and also the “ass” but it’s almost 11pm and I’m fired the fuck up about how terribly DC let’s their characters get treated

ALL OF IT is wack. I could watch the flash for a while because it was genuinely good but they turned it from an actual decent plot to something with like no substance with a stupid joke every 5 words.

and arrow is the worst! not only did they not make canary and arrow, one of the most iconic couples in dc, canon, and they ruined literally every character they ever had, but they had this ugly ass ship crash westallen’s wedding!!! since then I couldn’t deal with that shit, man

I just... don’t understand why dc allows shit like arrow to happen LMAO like compare it to the dceu or dcau it couldn’t be any further apart from the arrowverse

[uselessnocturnal]

Lifeline

olivarry week 2018 | day two | mythology

summary; Oliver would argue that Barry is no ordinary soldier. He is not a minor character. He is not a figure in the backgrounds, hidden by Oliver’s shadow. He is compassionate and loyal with a courageous and gentle heart who deserves better than what life throws at him.  He is Oliver’s whole world. His lifeline.

-

Seduced by the promise of a glorious victory, Oliver chooses to fight against the Trojans to rescue Helen of Sparta. Barry, out of love and fear for his friend, follows Oliver into war; little knowing that the following years would test their steadfast friendship and their deepening bond.

notes; it’s seven am in the morning i have not slept and i got way too into this and i feel like i’m going to be at least a day late every day now ughh. I actually had so much fun writing this? It’s so long though you might be better off reading it on ao3. It’s heavily inspired by the song of achilles with touches of percy jackson.

read here on ao3!

In the midst of the blood and war and shouts, Oliver mourns.

It’s not a quiet mourning. Oliver sobs openly – gut wrenching sounds that mix seamlessly with the cries of war. He cradles a man, limp and cold, against his gold-plated chest, staring into his unseeing eyes and shouting at him – pleading with him – to wake up, please, I can’t do this without you. He prays to his mother, Thetis, and to Hermes, a god who favoured the young man Oliver held and yet there is silence.

The gods are busy. Or they don’t care.

If anyone paid closer attention to the greatest demigod of the ages, they’d be surprised. Why this desperate grief? Why mourn a man with such a shocking intensity? Whose death must it have been to undo the mighty Oliver?

Oliver would argue that the man was no ordinary soldier. He was not a minor character. He was not a figure in the backgrounds, hidden by Oliver’s shadow. He was compassionate and loyal with a courageous and gentle heart who deserved better than what life threw at him.

He was Oliver’s whole world. His anchor.

Barry.

In the age of Heroes, there is always one that seems to draw the short end of the stick. Barry was a disappointment to both his father and his kingdom. When other boys were going on their first hunt, Barry could barely raise a spear. Whilst other boys were adorned with laurel wreaths, Barry stood away from the competition. At the age of eleven, he had been taken in by King Robert of Starling Kingdom and lives there, an unwanted shamed prince, under the shadow of the king’s golden son, Oliver.

Oliver, just a year older than Barry, is everything that Barry is not – strong, beautiful, the son of the goddess Thetis – and under normal circumstances their paths would never have crossed. Turns out, this wasn’t normal and for reasons still unknown to Barry, Oliver takes an interest in him.

When he finds out Barry skips training, Oliver starts bringing him to his classes as an excuse. Turns out, Barry can’t carry a tune on the lyre to save his life. When Oliver’s tutor offers him a lyre and he attempts to play it, Oliver’s electric blue eyes stare at the younger boy with a mix of confusion and laughter, “I never thought anyone could make the lyre sound bad.” Oliver confesses, faux-wonder in his tone.

It’s a different feeling to the burning humiliation when he’s teased during training and, though he can feel his cheeks warm, laughter bubbles out of his throat and before long they’re just two boys giggling uncontrollably with an exasperated teacher sitting by helplessly.

Their tentative connection falls into a steadfast friendship. Barry starts spending a lot of time with Oliver, often invited to events that would usually be exclusive to the royal family. Throughout the years, they only grow closer, spending almost every waking moment with each other.

They lie together on the floor by King Robert’s feet as he weaves a tale of gods and creatures for them. At fifteen, Barry’s reached that stage where everything is growing and now he’s just a bundle of awkward limbs that seem to stretch out everywhere. Oliver, on the other hand, has grown into his body extraordinarily well all broad-shouldered and tanned muscle. Barry would complain that it was incredibly unfair if he didn’t secretly think that Oliver was the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

Barely listening to the king’s stories anymore, Oliver nudges Barry with his foot grinning like he’s just played the perfect joke. Barry rolls his eyes, hoping the darkness of the candle-lit room conceals his quiet blush, returning the smile with one of his own, kicking Oliver back eliciting a short laugh from him.

Robert, sensing their fidgeting, sits up straighter in his chair and lets a fond expression (albeit slightly disgruntled at the interruption) cross his face. He rises, gesturing the two to follow as they leave the room to the corridor. Barry stands to the side as they share a quick, private conversation. Robert points at one of the slave girls down the corridor and he’s not quite sure why but his heart drops to his stomach and an uneasy feeling overcomes him.

It’s around this age that both the boys would be starting to bring girls back to their bedrooms. Barry knows for a fact that the other boys Robert fosters have as they brag about their conquest the next day. As far as he was aware, though, Oliver hasn’t had anyone in his room and it seems that the king was getting concerned.

Having finished his conversation, Robert bids the two goodnight and returns to his chambers. The two stand silently for a moment, two silhouettes in the darkness.

Barry plays with his fingers for a moment before meeting Oliver’s striking eyes (even though he’s a year younger, he’s fairly sure he’ll be taller than the demigod) before asking quietly, “What did your father say?”

He can just about detect movement as Oliver shakes his head and responds in a low voice, “He told me that the girl has been staring at me the past few days. He says she’s intrigued.”

“Are you- are you going to bring her to bed?” Barry chooses his words carefully, swallowing the lump in his throat.

He almost can’t hold back a sigh of relief when Oliver shakes his head again.

“My father…” Oliver starts hesitantly, “he said my mother wants me to go and train with Chiron the Centaur and…I want you to come with me.”

Barry’s head spins. This conversation has just taken a complete one-eighty and though the thrill of going somewhere – leaving the palace – with Oliver (!) instructed by a goddess is overwhelming, there’s something about the statement that makes the whole situation seem almost forbidden.

He nods numbly, eagerly and still he asks, “Will your father be okay with it?”

A mischievous grin lights up his face, “Definitely not. You’re going to have to sneak out.”

“You’re joking.” Barry splutters, “I can’t do that!"

Oliver places his hands reassuringly on Barry’s shoulders, “You can,” he takes a step forward so they’re only an inch away from each other and he’s back to staring at those beautiful blue eyes, “I believe in you.”

The idea excites Barry more than it should. He’s barely prepared and he’s doubtful he’ll be able to pull it off but Oliver believes in him.

It fills him with a hope and pride that he’s never actually experienced. He spent the night going over a plan in Oliver’s room until they were pretty sure it was foolproof and he feels almost prepared.

He stands next to the king as Oliver kneels in a goodbye, his father looking on in pride. As Oliver rises and comes over to Barry, Barry can feel his heart clench at the mere thought of Oliver leaving. It’s a ridiculous reaction, especially since he knows he’s literally going to be chasing after than man in a few hours.

“I- I’m going to miss you,” Barry admits as Robert leaves the two alone in the courtyard.

“Me too, Barr,” Oliver confesses, unaware of the butterflies he had released in Barry’s stomach with the new nickname – how much of it was for show, Barry wasn’t sure. He’s not sure where the instinct comes from but he moves in to the man, arms outstretched for a hug. He can see the hesitance in Oliver’s eyes before something like screw it crosses his mind and they embrace each other tightly.

“I’ll see you around.” Oliver breath tickles Barry’s ear, his voice holding a secret only the two of them understand. He pulls away from the hug, cheeks dusted pink, turning sharply with his pouch over his shoulder, sword at his waist and venturing out of the castle and towards Mount Pelion.

King Robert seems to pity Barry, giving him the rest of the day off, leaving Barry with nothing to do until he sets his plan into action. The few hours without Oliver is harder than he’d thought it would have been. Without his company, there isn’t much Barry could do…it had honestly been a while since he felt this lost.

The plan starts after nightfall. It’s a simple plan really – the two had just decided to complicate it to entertain themselves. All Barry really had to do was take his weapons (of which he had little to no skill in using) and just run out of the gate. The hardest part is memorizing where to go. Thankfully this plan harnessed Barry’s few and greatest talents – speed and memory – so it really isn’t too much of a problem.

Running away from the palace is exhilarating. Ignoring the calls of guards who he knows will give up soon enough, this is the best feeling in the world. He can feel the air, the wind on his face and the ground beneath his feet, lifting him up and pushing him forward. The adrenaline pumps through his veins and he’s never felt more powerful before – running towards Oliver.

In the blanket of night, Barry’s hurtling through the jungle at the speed of light until he crashes into Oliver. The two of them fall to the ground and somehow they both know it’s each other. There’s no resistance as they tumble together across the dirt and leaves. Barry laughs breathlessly, flushing, as they roll to a stop, Oliver on top, a small but exasperated smile on his face.

“Sorry,” Barry breathes, “I was just…running.”

A small chuckle escapes Oliver, “It’s okay.”

Oliver’s weight eases off him and he offers a hand to Barry, “C’mon, we’ve got a long trip ahead.”

Barry grins and takes his hand.

It’s a few days until they reach where Chiron’s meant to be. They’re both exhausted and sweaty from the journey and all they want is to collapse. Because, yes, Oliver’s a demigod and he has a ridiculously high stamina and Barry can definitely hold his own but it’s more out of the comfort zone than they had both expected.

“We should be close.” Oliver announces, breathing heavily. Barry nods, a jerky motion, choosing to save his energy about ready to take a break. They both freeze as they hear a rustle in the trees. Oliver’s sword is out in a second and he shoves Barry behind him. A shadow looms over them and they’re met with a centaur…except he wasn’t quite.

Barry couldn’t help but stare, mouth slightly agape, at the human legs molding with the body of a horse. Chiron was different in that aspect, having two front legs that are human whilst other centaurs had the whole body of a horse. Though Barry had heard the rumours and seen the images, he was both fascinated and astonished by seeing the Great Chiron in real life. Chiron looked down on the duo, his dark eyes analytical and stern with a dusty grey beard that reminds Barry how old the centaur is and how much he must have seen. As the centaur towers over them Barry realises: This is what true power is.

“Son of Thetis, Prince Oliver of Starling,” Chiron’s voice, when he speaks, is rough and commanding, leaving no room for questions, “I have been expecting you.”

Oliver bows deeply and Barry scrambles to copy his movements, what were they to do in the presence of someone who has seen it all?

The centaur gestures them to rise and turns to Barry, “Bartholomew,” he starts, noting how Barry stiffens at the use of a name he hadn’t heard since he was exiled, “You are not supposed to be here.”

Quickly, Barry is reduced to nothing but a fumbling mess and crazy hand gestures, “Well- I –uh –just…” The words that leave his mouth are incoherent and he knows it, his cheeks flaming red.

He’s silenced by Oliver’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing it tightly and with the eloquence and confidence of a king responds for Barry, “He’s with me, Chiron.”

Chiron regards them silently, “and if I choose not to take him in?”

“We’re both coming,” Oliver’s confidence wavers at the question, “I –I’m not going without him.”

A knowing look crosses Chiron’s face, fleeting but definitely still there. Barry’s not sure if Oliver notices but puts it out of his mind as Chiron faces Barry once again bending down to him. “So, Bartholomew, this question is for you,” he directs, holding Barry’s gaze, “do you want to train with me?”

“Uh –it’s Barry,” he corrects without thinking, “and…yeah I’d be honoured to be trained by you.”

Chiron nods, seemingly pleased with Barry’s response. He gestures to his horse back, “Climb on and we will begin your training.”

Training with Chiron is hard, even for Oliver. Whilst they spend a lot of their time training with weapons like swords, spears and bows (a weapon which Oliver quickly grows attached to), they discover that Chiron has a lot more to offer than just combat training. The centaur pushes them to keep adapting and changing. He teaches the two simple medical practices – lessons that are not all that interesting to Oliver but something that Barry thrives at.

Often they’re left alone in the woods for a day. A test, Chiron explains, to practice adapting and survival skills. Together, they manage to make it through mostly unscathed, stretching Oliver’s hunting skills and Barry’s medical ones.

Even though they’ve both found something that they’re good at and want to practice further, Chiron forces them to keep up with all the training. Even if it means an exhausted Barry struggling to keep a bow in place and somehow hitting Chiron (who was behind him!) and if it means Oliver just accidentally killed his fake patient by giving him a poison instead of an herb.

It’s tough but together they endure it. They’re bond deepens until the word ‘friends’ can’t describe it. It’s more than that. They’re partners – they have each other’s backs, they understand the other without having to say a word. A connection like this, Chiron muses as he observes the boys (men – Oliver has just turned eighteen), it is something precious and rare and he hopes that the terrors of the future will not ruin that.

There’s a prophecy, you see, that Thetis revealed to Chiron a few months back. Oliver has two fates: to gain glory and die young or live a long and uneventful life of obscurity. Chiron barely had to take one look at the man and know which Oliver would choose. It isn’t that Oliver craves glory, but that he seeks to save his city. And Barry, Chiron is sure, will follow Oliver in a heartbeat wherever the man went. Regardless, they would both find themselves on a battlefield.

So when the announcement reaches the hills of Mount Pelion, Chiron doesn’t hide it from either of them.

“This is from King Menelaus?” Barry confirms brows furrowed in thought, though he knows that this is primarily Oliver’s decision.

“King Agamemnon of Greece, actually,” Oliver corrects distractedly, skimming the paper Chiron had passed to him, “Helen of Sparta has been kidnapped by the prince of Troy.”

Helen of Sparta. Now, there was a name Barry could remember from Robert’s stories. She is supposedly the daughter of Zeus and the most beautiful woman in the world. She had married Menelaus and now, for some reason, has been kidnapped by Paris, the younger prince of Troy. The situation itself seemed straightforward enough. Attack Troy. Rescue Helen. Do this by recruiting the greatest heroes of their time.

Barry can tell by the light in Oliver’s eyes that he’s intrigued or more likely, that he’s already decided he wants to go. Chiron had told Oliver in confidence about the prophecy and Oliver had of course told Barry (why did Chiron even attempt to keep it a secret he himself wasn’t sure). There was nothing more Barry wanted to do but just keep Oliver here – safe – at least for a little longer. At the time, as they rested in the comfort of Chiron’s cave upon a bed of emerald moss, the thought of war had seemed so distant.

“I’m going.” Oliver declares, leaving no room for argument, though he looks towards Barry slightly uncertainly.

Barry offers up a small smile and nods his encouragement, “I’m coming with you.” There’s an obvious relaxation in Oliver’s shoulders as he turns to retreat into the cave to pack, leaving Barry alone with Chiron.

“What troubles you, Bartholomew?” Barry supposes he shouldn’t be surprised by Chiron’s intuition or his persistent use of his full name, for that matter.

He shrugs, half-heartedly, “Is there any other way we can protect him?” he asks, letting a touch of desperation leak into his words, “I just-” Barry bites his lip, “I don’t want to lose him so soon.”

A despondent expression decorates Chiron’s aged face, “Fate has a funny way of working out…” he hesitates, “there is one way he can be better protected. But you should be warned it is a risky move for him.”

Barry swallows the lump in his throat but nods, waiting for Chiron to continue. To his surprise, he calls Oliver back. Barry looks at the centaur questioningly but is ignored.

“There is one more task I need you to fulfill.” Chiron instructs, “If you want to survive longer in this war, you need to bathe in the River Styx.”

Both pairs of eyes widen. “I thought the Styx was a myth.” Oliver states, questioningly, “Would I really become invincible?”

Chiron gives them both one of those I know all looks that they’ve grown accustomed to. “Maybe in a couple of millennial, people will think you’re myths,” his eyes sparkle for a moment but darken once again as he continues, “It will be a difficult journey. That you’ll have to take alone.”

Almost immediately, the men’s eyes jump to each other as they exchange a silent conversation until they reach an agreement. It’s almost amusing how they seem to instantly jump to each other for support, Chiron marvels; it has been a while since he has seen a love so strong.

“I’ll do it.” And with those three words, Oliver seals his fate.

Barry has to wait at Mount Pelion. It’s an agonising wait, especially since he doesn’t know whether Oliver is alive. He finds himself fretting about the man day and night. It’s almost like it physically pains him to be away from Oliver. He figures out early on the real reason why Oliver has to carry out the quest alone.

“You separated us on purpose, didn’t you?” Barry accuses Chiron on the cliff outside his cave, sounding more resigned than angry.

The wise centaur shrugs, facing the overlooking lake, “Why exactly would you think that?”

“Because we rely on each other too much. We’re too close?” Barry’s not entirely sure what the reason is, “Together we’re weak?”

At this suggestion, Chiron turns sharply towards Barry, “That is entirely false. I believe that together you are both stronger.”

He leans closer, his beard almost tickling Barry’s face “I also believe that you two have a loyalty towards each other that – if left uncontrolled – could lead either of you with a tough choice: to save the world or Oliver.”

Without sparing Barry an answer, the centaur gallops down the mountain and into the greens below. Logically, Barry knows he should save the world. That’s what a hero does after all. But in his heart, he realises that he would do anything to save Oliver even if it did mean bringing the world down in his wake.

He also realises that he loves Oliver. It’s a fierce love that Barry had never nurtured before but he had brushed it aside, thinking it may have just been a childhood crush. They had kissed and touched each other a few times whilst they were at Mount Pelion (usually when Chiron abandoned them for the night – it kept them warm!). Nothing more than that and although the feeling left both of them warm and buzzing with the heated touch of the other, it had never developed into something deeper.

Presumably, their love wasn’t just about the physical aspect. It was obvious in the way they move closer together when they were uncertain and confide everything in each other. It was obvious in the way they looked at each other when the other wasn’t looking and how they’re minds always jumped first to the protection of the other.

Barry doesn’t need to wonder if Oliver loves him. He knows that he does – it’s just that maybe Oliver hasn’t realised it yet. And even if he does, neither of them will know where to go from there. Although not frowned upon, most couples in Greece were of a different sex – and that was mainly for childbirth. If Oliver had been any other man in the city, it would not matter that he doesn’t have children. But as a prince, the eldest and only son of Robert no less, it was absolutely essential for him to bear a son to be the next in line to the throne.

He forces the thoughts out of his mind. There is no use in worrying about something that may not even happen, especially with the war coming up and the fact that Oliver still isn’t back yet.

Oliver returns a few days later, his strides are more confident and Barry can almost see a certain aura around him that screams powerful demigod. Yet, there’s a slight darkness to his eyes, a weight on his shoulders dragging him back. When he sees Barry though, his eyes brighten and he breaks into a jog towards the other man. Barry, grateful to every god and goddess that Oliver is alive, is already running towards Oliver for a very much longed for hug.

He gets something better.

Barry barely has his arms around Oliver when the stronger man picks him up so Barry ends up straddling Oliver, his legs wrapped around Oliver’s waist, he’s pressed up against his bare chest and his face is only a few inches apart.

“What was that–” He’s cut off as Oliver’s lips crash into his – it’s a desperate, hungry kiss mixed with blood and salt. A kiss more passionate than either of them had ever shared.

When they finally pull away from each other, lips red and swollen, Barry’s hazel-green eyes stare into Oliver’s a question evident.

“I’ll tell you later,” Oliver promises, “I just know that…I don’t want you to leave my side.” He mumbles, letting Barry slide down and pressing a kiss to the younger man’s forehead.

A flush spreads across Barry’s face, coupled with a smile, ��I’d never leave your side, Ollie.” It’s not the first time Barry’s used that nickname and yet it sets Oliver’s heart on fire because it’s the first time it means something more.

Later doesn’t seem to come. As the two pack their sacks with their sparse belongings and some food for the journey, Oliver seems to delve into a spot of quiet consideration. Barry chooses not to push, trusting that Oliver will tell him when he wanted to, but worries silently by his side, hoping that no matter what happened, they would face it together.

When they reach Troy, the war has already gone on for five months and is in full chaos. There’s no way to tell which side is winning – there are high casualty counts on both. They’d like to believe that the Greeks are at an advantage with great heroes to help them like Heracles and Odysseus. And now, Oliver.

Barry feels like it’s obvious when Oliver joins the war. Even without prior experience, Oliver seems so…at ease with war. He makes fighting seem like a mesmerizing hacking art. His spear moves faster than the eye can follow, never stopping, ever-changing. It whirls, flashing forward, reverses, then flashes behind. On the battlefield, it is Oliver who leads men into victory, even though he is not the commander. It is Oliver who slays more of the Trojans than all the other Greeks do in total. He seems to be an unstoppable force and the Greeks love him for it.

They shower him in praises at the campsite; raise him on their shields as they return from their most recently won battle. The tent that Oliver shares with Barry soon becomes crowded with loot and other spoils of war. Everyone wants to talk to the greatest demigod of the ages.

Oliver, whilst civil in front of the soldiers, seeks solace after every battle with Barry. They keep their relationship quiet, sneaking kisses between battles and stealing touches every time their paths crossed. As the Greeks slept through the night, Barry and Oliver would bask in each other’s warmth, savouring each and every short moment they could share together.

At first, Barry is uncomfortable at the prospect of war, hesitant because there must be another way rather than killing. He had brought the worry up to Oliver once and the man had looked at him strangely. There is no other way, he’d said, not unkindly, he kidnapped a king’s wife. Oliver hadn’t laughed at him but he had been concerned and almost tried to stop Barry from going on the battlefield – worried that it would be too much for him to handle.

It took a lot in Barry not to snap back that he could handle himself. He may not be the most skilled, but gods help him if he sits by in Oliver’s tent as every other man goes out and fights for his country.

The war stretches on longer than they expect. What starts out as a couple of months turns into a year, which extends even longer to six years. There are heavy losses on both sides and yet neither side appears to give. At this point, Barry wonders if anyone actually knows what the Greeks had started out fighting for. If they still remembered Helen of Sparta who could be locked away in her ivory tower, watching as men still fought and died for her. It must be a difficult existence.

Barry spends his time either on the battle, barely scraping death, or in the Greeks’ temporary medical bay of the day. He does admit he likes it there more than he ever did on the battlefield. Here, he heals people with the skills Chiron taught him. He learns their names, faces and of their families back at home and listens to how much they misses them. This war has gone too long, men would often complain after thanking Barry, I just want to go home.

Home…Barry muses. Unlike these men, he has no connections outside of the battlefield. Yes, he misses Mount Pelion with its groves and rivers and Chiron always watching. But for him, home was wherever Oliver was.

Their relationship was still going strong over the course of six years. It was difficult to keep the façade, especially when King Menelaus keeps questioning why Oliver won’t take a slave girl for his pleasure when Oliver seems to capture so many of them. It wasn’t just because of Barry that Oliver wouldn’t keep the slaves.

He’d confided in Barry one night, “I feel powerful on the field…like I can do anything. But every life I take…I feel like I’m trading away…little pieces of myself…everything that makes me good.” He had hesitated as Barry squeezed his hand encouragingly, “I thought, if I didn’t keep the slaves…at least they wouldn’t have to look at the face that captured them in the first place.”

Barry had nodded in understanding, and drew the man into a kiss and capturing his cheeks with his hands as he pulled away. “You have nothing to compensate for,” he’d said, “You would not have come out the other side of this as a hero, if you didn’t have a light inside of you.”

The words had brought tears to Oliver’s eyes as he had let the younger man draw him close and rested in his protection.

A few weeks later, Oliver brings a girl to their tent. She’s dark-skinned with brown wavy hair and chocolate eyes. Barry and Oliver can barely communicate with her, only just getting across their names and receiving hers in turn – Iris.

Even with the communication barrier, Iris is incredibly talented with healing, making her useful in the med bay. As they treat the men, Barry manages to teach her little pieces of Greek and in turn she teaches him Latin, making it so that they could have basic conversations with each other.

They grow close. It’s a nice feeling to have an actual friend to talk to. They talk about anything they can, heavily avoiding the topic of war (to be fair it’s not in either of their vocabulary). Only after Oliver storms out of the tent upon seeing Barry and Iris laughing together does Iris bring it up.

“Oliver…uh…upset? Why?” She asks in her broken Greek though Barry gets the gist of her sentence even before she has to ask.

He hesitates for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck, “I- He might be…jealous?” He tests the word, meeting her eyes to convey his message. He’s fairly sure she doesn’t understand the actual word but she already knows why Oliver’s upset.

“You two are…happy.” She states, smiling widely at him, “I go.” She points to the tent flap, as Barry stands up frantically, waving his hands in a panic.

Laughing at his concern that he’d hurt her feelings she puts her hands out to pacify him, “I help.” she punctuates her sentence with a wink, leaving Barry in a state of realisation as she leaves him alone in the tent.

Sure enough, Oliver returns seconds later, simmering with barely controlled rage.

“Ollie, what’s wrong?” Barry asks, concern colouring his tone.

Oliver shakes his head, “Look, I just… I need to clarify. Are you…doing anything with that girl?”

“Iris,” Barry corrects automatically, “and no, of course not!” I love you lingers on his tongue but it just seems too soon.

Oliver bites his lip and doesn’t meet Barry’s eyes, clearly not completely at ease.

“What else happened?” Barry pushes gently.

He sighs before delving into an explanation, “King Agamemnon captured a daughter of a priestess of Apollo and refuses to give her back even though Apollo has threatened,” Oliver clenches his fist, voice hardening, “to send a plague throughout our camps. I’ve tried to reason with him – to talk some sense into him – but he refuses unless-”

He hesitates, meeting Barry’s eyes carefully, “Unless I give him Iris.”

Barry’s world seems to stop for a second, glitch and then carry on, “I’m sorry –what?”

Oliver purses his lips and drops his gaze, nodding once more.

“No. No.” Barry repeats, coming up close to Oliver, “you can’t do this. There has to be something- ”

“There isn’t anything!” Oliver all but shouts in his face. Barry stares at him for a moment stunned as Oliver closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, “The plague is already spreading. Soldiers are getting sick. They’re going to the medical tent. That’s where you are.”

He swallows and raises his eyes to the roof of the tent, closing them and then looking Barry straight in the eyes, “I can’t – I don’t want you to get infected.” Oliver’s eyes are glistening now and Barry understands now, why Oliver wants to do what he’s going to do.

“Look, the king promised he wouldn’t harm her and I just thought…”

Barry nods as Oliver pulls him into an embrace, “I understand…just let me talk to her.”

The conversation with Iris is a quick but tearful one. They convey their goodbyes in long hugs and he wishes her luck as Oliver takes her away to King Agamemnon.

Barry hoped everything would have been resolved in that moment. His heart plunges when Oliver strides back in to the tent and sits himself on their bed, fuming in quiet rage. Barry doesn’t ask questions this time. Instead he waits for Oliver to open up to him. There’s a long almost suffocating silence in the tent.

“I’m not fighting anymore.” Oliver states, his voice quiet and even. The proclamation startles Barry out of his spot on the cushions.

“What do you mean – What? Why?” Barry splutters. He can’t be serious. The Greeks – we – can’t win without him.

Oliver shakes his head stiffly, “Agamemnon – the king – he’s taken my honour.”

“You’re going to let the Greeks lose because the king wounded your pride?” Barry demands, infuriated. This is absolutely ridiculous.

“The Greeks aren’t going to lose.” Oliver growls, “He’s ruined my reputation! Everything I’ve built up over the years is overlooked now because he took my slave from me unwillingly!”

“You’re reputation?” Barry questions incredulously, “Oliver, you can easily get that back up within a battle. Nothing has been taken away from you! And Iris, she isn’t some object to be tossed around! She’s a person!”

“You can’t just abandon us because of something as petty as this. We need you.”

“When did it change from ‘the Greeks’ to ‘us’?” Oliver snaps, “When were you suddenly such a supportive member of their cause? You told me yourself: You didn’t think this was right.”

“And if you don’t help them, they’re going to die, Ollie. And you don’t want that on your conscience.” Barry’s voice breaks slightly as he stares into his lover’s beautiful, broken blue eyes. He can tell he’s gotten through to Oliver because of the flicker of regret that dances across his eyes.

A horn sounds in the distance – the signal for a battle about to come.

The two of them stare each other down in the doorway of the tent, Barry urging Oliver to go and Oliver wanting to go but hesitating to nurse his pride. Sighing Barry gathers Oliver’s armour.

“Just this once, I’ll go out in your armour,” he compromises, not letting Oliver speak, “we can’t let them lose any of the battles when we’re so close to defeating the Trojans.”

“Hopefully, just seeing your armour alone will scare people away.” Barry shrugs, “Even then, I should have enough skill to manage myself.”

Oliver looks doubtful at the idea, concern written across his face and yet, still too stubborn to take up the armour himself. One day, Barry swore, Oliver’s pride would be his downfall.

“I’ll lead them well,” Barry reassures Oliver, adjusting the straps of armour to fit him a bit better.

“I know you will.” Oliver murmurs, pulling the man into a final kiss before he left. It’s a soft and quick kiss before Barry moves away, smiling at his best friend and lover.

“Come back to me,” he pleads, “As soon as you beat the Trojans back to their ships bring the armour back and I’ll take over.”

“I’ll do whatever I have to.” Barry promises.

He takes to commanding with a surprising amount of ease. With people already believing he was Oliver, it isn’t difficult to have the sway he needs to convince them to attack. Though his technique is not as swift as Oliver’s, Barry is able to disarm and injure many of the Trojan army. He understands now, why Oliver is so involved in fighting. There’s a tiny taste of power every time a man falls, coupled with a bitter taste in his mouth that quickly diminishes the euphoria. It does give him that tiny boost of confidence, though.

Barry had been involved in enough battle plans to know a good strategy and he managed to push the Trojans back almost, dare he say it, easily. It makes a further attack all too tempting.

In a split second decision, he continues the fight, leading the Greeks towards the already weakened Trojans in an attack that Barry is almost sure they can win. He knows he’s smart enough to pull it off.

As they’re charging to attack, Barry stops suddenly. His mind completely blank – wiped clean – so that he can’t even remember what he’s doing, he doesn’t even know what he’s doing. A single name sits on his lips as he tries to shake off the disorientation and remember what he is doing. It’s important. It’s a mission. I was doing it for…for… the Greeks no…for Oliver.

And it’s with Oliver’s name that the disorientation clears and his wits return to him. Barry can barely understand what just happens but he doesn’t have time. He needs to find Oliver and –

a sharp pain blossoms from the middle of his stomach. He clutches blindly at the shaft of a spear, searching for the end of it until – oh – it’s inside him. Barry stumbles backwards, for a battlefield it’s surprisingly empty until he realises he’s no longer on the field.

He must have chased the man – Hector, prince of Troy – around the walls unknowingly. But how did that happen? Surely, Barry couldn’t have been stupid enough – the gods. A god must have cursed him – taken his wits in that moment – weakened him so that Hector could finish him off.

Barry is no longer wearing Oliver’s armour. Hector must have taken it before he retreated. “Oliver,” he mumbles half-deliriously, “I need to get the armour to him.” A face hovers over his, blue-eyes but Not Oliver because this man does not have the same chiseled jaw as Oliver. Voices are swimming in his head, blending together so they don’t make sense.

There’s just one voice he wants to hear. “Oliver.”

The man, King Menelaus, protecting his body nods and in a moment of clarity Barry hears, “I’ve sent someone to get him.”

His body relaxes in relief. Oliver is coming.

The spear sends a last pulsing, shuddering throb throughout his body. Barry’s eyes close. A final, trembling breath leaves his lips. And then, as Oliver sprints across the field calling Barry’s name, Barry lets go.

In the midst of the blood and war and shouts, Oliver mourns.

He had run straight into the midst of all the chaos with only one man in mind – Barry. He finds him soon enough or rather his body, protected by King Menelaus and Ajax. Barry is laying so incredibly still, a spear buried in his stomach, a small pool of coppery blood watering the ground beneath him.

He gathers the man up in his arms. He’s so cold – nothing like the warmth Barry radiates the moment he steps into a room. It’s so rare to see Barry still – there had barely been a moment where the boy hadn’t been moving. He was always fidgeting with something or other or even when he was standing still… it felt like he was flittering.

It’s not a quiet mourning. Oliver sobs openly – gut wrenching sounds that mix seamlessly with the cries of war. He cradles a man, limp and cold, against his gold-plated chest, staring into his unseeing eyes and shouting at him – pleading with him – to wake up, please, I’m sorry, Barry please, I can’t do this without you. Barry. He prays to his mother, Thetis, and to Hermes, a god who favoured the young man Oliver held and yet there is silence.

The gods are busy. Or they don’t care.

If anyone paid closer attention to the greatest demigod of the ages, they’d be surprised. Why this desperate grief? Why mourn a man with such a shocking intensity? Whose death must it have been to undo the mighty Oliver?

Oliver would argue that Barry was no ordinary soldier. He was not a minor character. He was not a figure in the backgrounds, hidden by Oliver’s shadow. He was compassionate and loyal with a courageous and gentle heart who deserved better than what life threw at him.

He was Oliver’s whole world. His anchor.

Barry. He’s crying now, choking on his grief, tears mingling with the sweat on his face and dampening Barry’s tunic as he holds the man closer to his heart.

Barry was more than a lover. He was Oliver’s best friend and closest confidant. They were partners who held each other on a special level of trust. Barry had been the first person he had thought of when

the nymph of the river Styx had said, “You need a mortal point.”

“A what?” Oliver had asked. A mortal point for an invincible body? That sounded ridiculous.

Styx, had calmly uncreased the folds in her dress, sighing as though she had heard this kind of incredulity all before. “You need to stay anchored to your mortal life.”

When she’s met with even more confusion she rolls her eyes, “Imagine a spot on your body that will remain vulnerable. This is where your soul will anchor your body to the world. If you lose sight of what keeps you mortal, the River Styx will burn you to ashes. And you will cease to exist.”

Oliver had stared at her for a moment and then at the river. Thinking carefully before he chose, he concentrated on a small spot under his left armpit. It was unlikely that anyone would aim a weapon there and, with armour, it would be relatively well protected.

Closing his eyes to brace himself, he imagined a string like a bungee cord connecting him to the riverbank. Without thinking, he jumps.

It’s a terrifying moment when everything burns and he can’t control his muscles. Every nerve was dissolving, screaming in pain. This was one of his first real battles. And he was already losing.

Oliver could feel his soul literally burning away, being ripped from his body. His hands and feet felt like they were melting into the river. He wanted to give up.

But he couldn’t.

“Oliver! The cord!” Oliver could hear a voice through the murky water, “Remember your lifeline.”

Oliver focused on the cord, imagining it thicker and stronger, ignoring the pain and the oh gods, what’s my name. He felt a tug through the cord and looked up.

Barry stood on the bank, smiling down at Oliver, “Hold on, Ollie! I’ll give you a hand.”

Barry’s voice was clearer now. Oliver could feel himself stop dissolving.

“Come on,” Barry says, a light in those beautiful hazel-green eyes, “Take my hand.”

Memories came rushing back, sharper and clearer than before. Memories of him with Barry in the palace in Starling, plotting to escape together, tasting the sweet fruits of the forest Chiron offered. The current stopped pushing him down. His name was Oliver. He reached up and took Barry’s hand.

He had emerged from the river, gasping and spluttering, scanning the area for Barry even though Oliver knew he shouldn’t be there. It had seemed so real. No one was there but Styx, relaxing on a rock, looking only mildly impressed that he’d survived.

The pain had subsided. He wasn’t sure if it had worked but…at least he was alive.

“Thank you, Lady Styx.” Oliver bows, not entirely sure how to treat a river nymph.

Styx shrugs indifferently, “You’ve just committed yourself to a lifetime or hardships.” She hops off the rock and rises to his height. “I’ll give you a piece of advice though.”

“Whoever you saw…whoever pulled you out? He is your real lifeline. You have to protect him because without him, you’ll lose all sense of mortality. It won’t be a fast process but his death will weaken you. Do not, under any circumstances,

lose Barry. Oliver had lost Barry.

Barry, who on his journey back, Oliver had realised he loved with a burning passion.

Barry who only wanted the best for everyone.

Barry who Oliver had tried so hard to protect just for his arrogance to get in the way and now…

Barry was gone.