#cant wait to give her more trauma and crush some dreams

[belos-pogging-pc]

well aint that just poggers?

She’s come so far.

She’s a real witch now. And the fate of the isles rests on her, her found mother, and her found little brother.

You did it, Luz. You’ve achieved your dreams and so much more.

[between-two-fandoms]

Who We Used To Be (Ray/Rose/Trevor)

As told by myself and @thesevenumbrellas tag teaming the whump in the 18+ JatP discord. Sev I swear we operate on the same braincell levels, we do be clowning. @bobbywilsonsupremacy  let us know what you think of this! I know you and I both hardcore ship Raybse.

Cover was created by @thesevenumbrellas​. Please don’t steal it.

This post got long so fair warning.

We wrote this in a discord server over the time span of hours so there’s some mistakes but i’m too lazy to go back and fix it all. Basically we tag teamed on a Raybse Trevor Wilson-centric whump story and can destroy a fandom with a single touch.

You’ll understand once you click the cut.

Don’t Steal Our Writing (but please reblog this to spread it around).

Trauma Time.

major whump warning

(Ren) Okay so if we're gonna be starting at 90's ot3 my children ray/bobby/Rose know that Ray is a panic bi and loves both of these humans very much with his whole ass heart.

(Ren) He takes pictures of his girlfriend and boyfriend while they’re on dates because he wants to capture the moments he was happy the most. Bobby always shed away from the camera burying his face in Rose's shoulder or leaning in for a kiss. Anyways as time goes by Ray notices Bobby's change in behavior. From being his go-happy-trauma boyf to being caught up in the music scene, often out at all hours to parties and label meetings only to come to to sleep on the couch, not even sharing the bed like he used to. It reminds Ray of the time when Bobby was grieving his boys. Ray hates it, but he loves bobby so he pushes his feelings aside to try and arrange more dates for the three of them to go on together.

(Sev) Ray waking up to only Rose in the bed and not Bobby, and it feels too cold in bed without him. So he'll try to call him, because it's 3am and he's supposed to be home and he's not. And Ray remembers what happened to Bobby's bandmates, and he can't admit it out loud but he's worried. Because what if that happens to Bobby? He knows it was a freak accident! What are the odds of it happening again?? But he can't shake that feeling when Bobby doesn't come home at night and Ray stays up all night worrying. Anyway he tries to call Bobby and Bobby doesn't answer. He'll leave loads of voicemails, trying not to be pushy because he knows Bobby doesn't respond well to that. But he's worried. He'll say "hey please call me when you get this." and then ten minutes later try again "hey just text me that you're safe okay?" He can't sleep because Bobby still isn't home. It's 5am. He has to go to work in two hours. Rose keeps telling him to go to bed but he can't.[2:58 PM]Bobby finally texts back. "I'm okay! Was playing with some friends, the gig went over time and then we went to  party." Ray wants to be angry because seriously? No phone calls because he was at a party? But he knows that'll just push Bobby away more!

(Ren) And so Ray has all of these festering emotions that boil down to worry and concern at the core but he's just so scared hes losing Bobby cause he never really had his own family to begin with and then one day when Ray comes home early from a photoshoot he can hear Bobby and Rose fighting over Bobby signing the contract that says he wrote Luke's songs but Ray just hears yelling before he even opens the door with his name thrown into the mix and then he gets even more scared because what if he loses Rose and Bobby? if he lost both of them he'd be destroyed. So he doesnt knock. He doesnt go home. Instead he walks around the city until he was supposed to go home originally and he opens the door and there's a sort of eerie silence in the air.

(Sev) Trevor’s unable to shake the feeling that something terrible will happen to Rose and Ray because he's with them. His entire family were killed in 1 night because he wasn't there with them. So at first he's clingy as fuck to Rose and Ray because what if something bad happens when he's not there? What if what if what if... But as time goes on the thinking flips. Maybe it's the music industry that's the problem. It's these weird connections in his head of if he's too successful, bad things might happen. But he can't quit music like that, he can't give up on Luke's dream. He owes his boys to become successful. So instead he distances himself from Rose and Ray. That way they won't be caught up in whatever bad thing is going to happen to him. He distances himself and he waits for it all to drop. He waits for the universe to punish him again.

(Ren) And the universe punishes Bobby when the tension between him and Rose tightens so much he knows there's no going back from it but he's not admitting to stealing the songs because he didn't. He helped Luke write all of the songs more than Alex and Reggie ever did, staying up late with Luke after fights with his mom and Bobby didn’t want Luke to be alone so yeah, he wrote the songs. Maybe not as much as he claimed but he sure as hell made sure his brother wasn’t alone so that counted for something right? And it did. Until Rose kicks him out of bed because she's pissed he'd even consider stealing music and he cant tell Ray because of the NDA the label got him to sign at a party when he was drunk and the only reason Rose knows about it is because she was there when he signed the damn thing and so Bobby pulls away from Ray because isnt it going to be easier in the long run? If he doesn’t attach himself to Ray who'll just get angry at him like Rose did?

(Sev) It's the guilt that grows inside of him every passing day. They're my songs too he tells himself over and over again. But during the dark nights, three glasses of whisky in when the world is getting hazy... even he can't believe the lies he tells himself. He fucked up Sunset Curve. He fucked up his friends' memories. And now he fucked up the only good thing he'd ever had. Ray texts him nonstop. He doesn't understand why Rose kicked Bobby out and he doesn't understand why Bobby listened. Bobby can't take Ray away from Rose. He's fucked up and a terrible person, but even he can't do that. He doesn't give Ray his new address. He refuses to meet up even for Ray to give him his stuff back. All Bobby can do is hold onto Ray's sweatshirt he stole away and a bottle of perfume the same brand Rose always wears. He cradles these things in his arms and cries.

(Ren) And that's the last he sees of Ray for all of 5 years, 20yr old puppy-dog eyed loving precious ray who Bobby would run to the second Rose says its okay. But rose never does. And then Bobby meets a cute blonde and six months later the barista shows up on his doorstep shoving Carrie into his arms calling her a bastard child. Carrie is not a bastard child Carrie is his and he loves her the second he sets eyes on her and so Bobby turns into Trevor when the new year rolls around and he starts his own album. It doesn’t do as well as Luke's his first album did but it was his. And then one day Trevor signs Carrie up for dance because Trisha from first grade made fun of her for not being able to do the splits and on the way out of the dance studio Trevor bumps into Ray, a terrified looking girl clutched to his leg. Carrie doesn't miss a beat. "Hi! I'm Carrie let's be friends!" and Carrie drags Ray's daughter off and Trevor shifts awkwardly and is suddenly 17 again but Ray's eyes still twinkle like the did when they were kids and he's still wearing eyeliner so Trevor almost missed it when a flicker of recognition crosses Ray’s face and a smile quirks at the corners of his lips and he says, "hi im Ray, thats my daughter Julie. Wanna go out for a drink?" With that same mischievous glint in his eye that made Bobby fall in love with him in the first place.

(Sev) Trevor almost stops breathing. He should say no. He knows he should say no. He's an awful person. He doesn't deserve someone like Ray. He never deserved either of them. He knows that. But can't force himself to say no. Maybe it's the twinkle in Ray's eyes. Maybe it's the soul crushing loneliness he's felt ever since he left them. Or maybe it's the way Carrie and Julie are giggling in the corner like they've known each other all their lives. He says yes. The drink ends up at a family friendly restaurant with both the girls in tow.

(Ren) Rose shows up because Ray the asshole apparently texted her while he was in the car saying he met one of Julie's friend's parents and wanted to go out on a date (keeping things pg ofc) aklsdf. And when Rose does show up Trevor sees how... sick she looks. How much paler she looked than she did all those years ago how - he still knew he loved her even if she still decided she hated him.

(Sev) The mood drops quickly. Trevor wants to ask about Rose, but not in front of the kids. Ray wants to ask about their past, but not in front of the kids. Rose... Rose who holds all the answers... doesn't know where to start first. She had never regretted not telling Ray the truth. She never wanted to change Ray's perception of Bobby like that. Ray who looked at their boyfriend as if he'd hung the moon. Ray who stayed up worrying all night until Bobby came home. Ray who held Bobby through countless nightmares... But that makes the truth staring them in the face so much harder. Because she never gave Ray the choice. She realized that a few years too late after she catches Ray staring at old pictures of Bobby in their photo albums. She'd made the choice for him. And then there's Trevor... still beautiful, staring at her with so much concern her heart breaks all over again.

(Ren) The tension doesn't fly over Carrie's head like he hoped it would, she talks to Julie about My Little Pony and Pokemon and High School Musical and their mutual hatred for Trisha from school but Carrie's hand never lets go of his and he finally plucks up the courage and stretches his arm out and says "we're vegetarian for the most part, hope that's okay." And a smile quirks at the corner of her lips and she asks "for the most part?" and Trevor nods and Carrie pipes up from her seat saying "daddy hates hot dogs,” in that blatant fact kind of way kids say things without realizing how problematic it could be. It wasn’t her fault though, Trevor has yet to tell her about her uncles, about how he was in a band, about how they were going to be legends.

(Sev) Rose and Ray both freeze at Carrie's voice. He doesn't know if the girls notice, because he's too busy trying to fight back the panic in his throat. It's been a long time since anyone had brought up ... what happened. It's easy to pretend it didn't happen when his name is Trevor and no one knows him. But these two people know him. They know him more than anyone else ever has. Even the boys. The truth hits him hard at that moment. A truth he'd been avoiding for almost two decades. Ray and Rose know him better than even he knew himself. Maybe that was why Rose had been so furious with him, or why Ray continued to chase after him even months after he moved out. Trevor hides the building panic and sudden realization with a smile. "What an I say," he said as causally as he can. "I'm a picky eater." A few hours later they end up back at the Molina's house. Bobby has no idea how it happened. -No, Trevor has no idea how it happened, he scolds himself. He's Trevor. He has to be Trevor. Trevor got him this far, Trevor made the difficult choices. Bobby was the one who got his friends kill and destroyed the best relationship he ever had. Still, it becomes harder and harder to remind himself of that. To stop himself from slipping into the comfortable shoes of Bobby, boyfriend of Ray and Rose as if the past 17 years had never happened. He finds himself on their sofa, a sofa that brings back memories both good and bad... he finds himself in a familiar home, his old studio just a short walk away, his ex's giggling in the kitchen as they make his coffee the way he's always liked it without asking for a reminder.

(Ren) Trevor can remember the day he stopped drinking the coffee Ray made for him, the morning after his first fight with Rose, when he wakes up cold because Rose basically cocooned herself around Ray's body, keeping her back turned to him and as much as he wanted to reach out to Ray, to hug him and comfort him and tell him it was all going to be okay... everything was too stuffy and too tense and deciding he just had to leave because he was going to suffocate otherwise.

(Sev) He should leave, just like last time. What was he even doing here? He should take Carrie and- Then Ray's in front of him, pushing a hot cup into is hands. "The girls are playing upstairs," he says. His voice is so calm, so understanding. "We don't have to talk if you don't want to." Trevor almost laughs. Because that's so like Ray. Almost a decade without answers and he's giving Trevor the option to ignore it all. To pretend like nothing ever happened. But he can't be that selfish again. So he shakes his head. "I'd... like to talk to you... to both of you."

(Ren) And then suddenly rose is eyeing him sus but he's been putting this off for to long and honestly fuck his label because they screwed him over one too many times for him to still even consider their relationship anything other than employee-client1[4:06 PM]and so Trevor takes a sip of Ray's coffee holy shit how did go so long without it?! and he explains it. he explains everything.

(Sev) Ray doesn't speak as Trevor explains. He never interrupts or even look surprised. His face is completely unreadable. He doesn't move until Trevor's done. And then once he is, he only stands up to start pacing the room. Trevor's oddly reminded of Alex as he does so,  and the memory is enough to make him flinch. "This... this is what you two have been hiding from me for so long?" he asked, voice brittle. "This is... this is what cost us... I mean..." But he can't finish. Ray just shakes his head, back to both Rose and Trevor.

(Ren) Suddenly he's seventeen again. Seventeen and a mess in Ray's arms burying his face into the man's chest finally feeling the weight of the world lift off of his shoulders and suddenly Rose is hugging him from behind, her too-skiny bone arms snaking around his chest and hugging him tightly threatening to never let him go saying "amour," and pressing a kiss to the back of his head, "amour we never stopped loving you."

(Sev)It's like no time has passed by the time he's done crying his eyes out. They're all huddled on a sofa that was always too small for three. Trevor's in the middle, clutching at them both as if they're going to disappear on him. Ray sits with his legs underneath them, his arms pulling the both of them into his chest. And then there's Rose, suddenly so much more delicate than Trevor remembers. She sits half on his lap, curled into them, her fingers knotted in his hair. "I can't believe you two kept this from me," Ray whispers. There's no anger. He doesn't think Ray's ever been capable of being angry. "I'm sorry," Trevor whispers, throat raw from tears. Ray answers with a firm kiss to his temple. "We wasted so much time..."

(Ren) Trevor just lays between them in their bed, nothing sexual and nothing tense it’s just them being together and Rose playing with his now-long hair, braiding it right down the middle despite it being too long for others to braid. Her fingers feel nice as they tug at his roots, familiar and a sense of calm washes over him. He lets ray fop on top of him like they used to, burying his head in his chest just listening to his heart beat, his steady constant breathing because Ray used to be afraid one day he'd wake up and Bobby would be dead too. Rose humming lightly, soft lullabies that chased away dark thoughts and Trevor just finds it so comforting, a feeling of home he hasn't had since the day he left and so he wraps his arms around Rose and Ray tight, promising himself he won't screw up his second time around.

(Sev) It's a few hours later when he speaks again. The girls are asleep in Julie's room (delighted at their surprise sleepover.) Ray's almost nodded off, head resting against Trevor's chest. But Rose is wide awake. She's laid out, tangled between them, eyes focused on something far away. He can see it more clearly now. The tremble in her hands, the way she's so still, the circles around her eyes. He takes her hand in his. "What is it?"

(Ren) And Trevor wants it to be a prank, he wants the sinking feeling in his gut twisting around his heart, the same feeling he had the morning of Sunset Curve's Orpheum performance coiling up his spine to go away. He wants everything to be okay, that he told the truth, that he was forgiven, that the universe was finally on his side for once but of course it's not because when has it ever been.  Rose's fingers run lightly over his knuckles and Ray wraps his arm around him from behind, his hands resting against Trevor's chest, something solid for him to focus on and as a tear starts to roll down Rose's cheek he reaches up to brush it away, running his hand through her hair only to pull out a clump as he pulled away but he couldn't run when his instincts to run kick in like they always used to do when situations turned emotional, bury it in his mind and lock up his worries like he always did but this wasn't going to be something he could run from.

(Sev) Life is not the fantasy or a fairy tale. There are no happy endings, only happy moments. He'd like to say they picked up right where they left off, Rose lived until a ripe old age, and they never fought again. But he'd be lying. It was hard to fold their lives back into place again, especially with Carrie and Julie. To just pick up after their seventeen year old selves was an impossible dream. But they could do breakfast. And breakfast became dinner. Dinner became one date which became two which became many. It took trouble and care, but they slotted themselves back into each other's lives again. There were lunch dates, and movie nights. There were late night wine dates and early morning coffee dates. They found their happy moments. A decade of separation had smoothed out the rough edges. If Trevor stormed out after a harsh argument, he'd return the next day with flowers and apologies. If Rose snapped and lost her temper, she'd take herself off for a walk to cool down. If Ray was bothered by something, he'd speak up instead of pushing it all down. They found their happy moments. And when 1 month became 1 year, they celebrated with moving boxes and a new, bigger couch. When 1 year became 2, they celebrated with promise rings and whispers of a better future between light kisses. 3 years became 4, became 5, and so on... They found their happy moments. But life is not a fantasy or a fairy tale. Their story ends in a hospital. Rose dies with both her husbands at her side, with both her daughters and son clutching on her hands. She dies with a smile on her face, knowing she is not leaving them to suffer alone. Ray and Trevor grieve together.

(Ren) And this time the girls are the ones who get into the fight but Trevor and Ray are there for Julie and Carrie no matter what they're fighting over carrie told julie she liked flynn but julie said flynn was hers first and doesnt understand how she can feel squishy love for two people. And this time the girls are the ones who get into the fight but Trevor and Ray are there for Julie and Carrie no matter what they're fighting over carrie told julie she liked flynn but julie said flynn was hers first and doesnt understand how she can feel squishy love for two people. They stick to their daughters through the worst of it but they don’t let the girl’s fighting rip into them too. It’s not what Rose would’ve wanted for them, it’s not what she would’ve wanted for Julie or Carrie either.

(Sev) And when Julie plays with her ghost band, it's much earlier that Trevor recognizes who she's playing with.

(Ren) Luke’s mad at first, ofc he is but after everything is explained and out in the open Trevor finds himself at home in a building that never felt like home despite the fact he grew up in it.

[kittygirltheannoying]

Dance in Darkness

In slient she whimpers. Crushed and suffers alone. She put a hard shell on but, inside shes gone. Mind is gone and is on autopilot. The dark is all she knows and feels safe in. She has one purpose and it to try to save others from the darkness.

She watches him fight his demons as well. These roads we travel are well worn on both their minds. You can see the torment in through their eyes, her's are blue with crystal tears and his a shade of brown that you can see the pain he bears. She is his meaning. his heart and soul. The dance these two do are a very complex motions and took a millennia to master.

As she sits alone in a corner and watches the people in the tavern, she thinks "Do I really belong here?" At this point her life had been full of turmoil and trauma. She has unburied herself from what made her sick, but still can not out run it. The darkness lurks at evey corner. She fights and still can not get released. for this deal she made with the devil himself. Days like this she wonders "Will this be the day he comes to collect his debt?"

Later that night she is home in her lovers arms safe, for he is the only thing that can protect her. The only one who can fully understand what makes her sick, for he suffers the same. Neither one if them can be with out the other. But the Darkness is all they know.

As he wraps his arms around her, he feels at ease because she can let her guard down, as he is her protector. He has his own turmoil and pain. The trauma thay both suffer helps them protect one another. He will move mountains for her and she will take an arrow for him.

Today started put as any other day. The two of them awake after a short night of rest, it's been awhile since they both got any sleep. She readied the horses for it was time to leave the village before the darkness claimed it. As she returns to the cabin he reaches out and grabs her and gives her a kiss as he releases his embrace, all hell broke lose. They thought they had gotten further ahead of the Darkness that hunts them. As they were just about out of the village. He was stopped dead in his tracks to an image of a past love. It was just enough to distract him for the real target was her. For she belonged to someone else. Skadi was promised to man many years before she was born, but her heart belonged to Tyr.

For they lived in secrecy. And it worked until a pivotal moment in their lives made them decide no more. After watching Tyr almost die twice once because of illness and the other by his own hands Skadi decided that it was enough, that she had to be by his side forever. It almost derailed by her own hands when her jealousy pushed him away for she allowed the voices in her head to take over. This angered the man she was promised to. This man made it his mission to end both of their lives, Skadi because of her betrayal and Tyr for not restraining himself from her grasp.

Tyr and Skadi took off as fast as they could for the calvary was a foot. For they knew If they were caught it would mean death. As they scramble to escape for them were unsure on how much harder they could push the horses. They needed to find a place to get and hide away from Jarl. Jarl's army closes in on them and Tyr refuses to let Skadi out of his sight. As they approach end of Jarl's kingdom they knew he wouldn't stop but it would be a bit harder for him to hunt them down. Just then arrows start to fly and he cant reach her in time. Skadi was struck and and falls from her steed. As Tyr gets closer he sees that she is alive and on her feet. For her will not to let Jarl be the death of her, she is fighting back with her own bow. Tyr grabs her and lifts her on his steed. As she defends them, he pushes his steed faster to the north. Narrowly escaping Jarls clutches again.

Winter is slowly seeping in to the air. The leaves are turning colors of yellows and oranges. Finaly Tyr and Skadi can have a moment. Tyr slowly takes a knife and cuts the sleeve of Skadi's shirt for she was struck in her shoulder. As he removes the arrow from, she lets out a cry. He kisses her on her cheek and says "I'm sorry." and cleans up the blood before he wraps her wound. Skadi looks at him with years in her crystal blue eyes and says "I love you." He smiles and runs his fingers through her hair. Tyr looks around and finds a cabin and tells Skadi "You need to rest and we need to eat." She replies "No, we need to keep moving." He grabs her and sits her down and looks her in the eyes. "We need rest. YOU need rest. Your shoulder is messed up, you cant over do it." She looks and him with a sigh of agreement.

They set up in this tiny dilapidated shack. Tyr makes up the bed for Skadi to lay while he gathers wood to start cooking the rabbit thay came across on the way to the shack. In pain, she lays on the bundles of wolves hides. She slowly drifts to sleep. This is here her darkness comes steps in and tears her mind open and terrorizes her. Tyr returns back to the cabin hearing her scream. He drops the wood and instantly climbs in bed with her and wraps his warm, protective arms around her until the tremors stop. She doesn't sleep well when she does sleep, doesn't sleep at all, for she must be protected at all costs. For this night he falls asleep alongside her, because she can bring peace to his inner turmoil.

The sun peaks over the mountain tops and pushes through the tiny cracks in the cabin. Skadi opens her eyes to find that Tyr is already awake and has prepared breakfast. "We still have at least a two day ride to get through the mountains to Hilldenberg." He says. She gets up to join him at the table. As they eat in slience he look at her eyes to see what she's thinking but her eyes are blank. "Bad dream, my love?" She replies "Yes, but I always have them, for once I would like a good one." They both clean up and she bundles her shoulder the colder days are coming and she needs to heal. He kisses her forehead and goes outside to ready the horse. They are down to one and this one cant be push much further. "We need to get supplies in town". she says, he replied with percing eyes "We will at the next one, we're still too close to the border." She scoffs at him and agrees.

As they are going through the brush and staying off the roads. They hear a commotion off to the west. They both take a defensive stance him with his spear and her with her bow. She tries not to tremble for she knows Jarl is close. At this moment a huge black bear comes from out of nowhere. Relief comes to the pair. So they lower their weapons and continued on their way since the bear was no harm to them.

As they approach a small fishing village to get supplies and dressings for Skadi's wounds, there is an eerie feel to the cool winter breeze. No one is out and there are a few people in the tavern at the inn. Tyr points to a small secluded table in the back. Here is where they can plan the rest of their trip north because, it won't be long before the harsh winter cold sets in. Skadi smiles at Tyr and says "my shoulder hurts, moving it, is miserable. " He responds "I love you, but suck it up." She smiles once again. As they look at the map for locations and routes, a very tall man approaches and asks them "Are you just passing through?" Clearly from Skadis Crest they were not welcomed among the outskirts of town, for the common people here don't like anyone from a noble bloodline. Skadi replies "Yes we are, sir we will be gone after dinner. We just need to rest." Tyr cuts his eyes at here with the look of just as to be ready for anything.

Things were not always this way, there was a time when Skadi had to share Tyr's heart with others. She had to build trust with him and earn his love and devotion. She idolizes him and is willing to do anything for him even if it costs her own life. As the two continue to plan they're route, there is a commotion in the back of the tavern and the barmaid run out the small door that looks like only an elf can walk through. Tyr and Skadi jump to their feet and wait to see if the guard out front will investigate. To much confusion, he does not. Come to find out its the owners of the tavern arguing, "This must happend often, since no one reacted." Tyr thinks to himself.

Skadi points to the window, "Its getting dark, my love, we need to head out if we plan on making it to Hilldenberg before dawn." She says to Tyr. Unfortunately in this territory it will be dangerous for the two, the squabble between this small town and the noblemen is rough and will cause more issues than needed in the trip north.

As Skadi and Tyr head out they stop at a small shop to get winter furs and a few things needed for their journey. At this point Skadi tucks her Crest into her tunic so it doesn't stir up any more troble. They browse the small shop and pick up some furs. The shop didn't have much to offer. Tyr drops 3 silver on the counter and they head for the door. The old lady behind the counter says in a very horse voice "There is more trouble for you boy in the north than where you're coming from. " As Tyr turns to respond the lady is gone, as if no one was ever there. He looks at Skadi and see that she did not hear it at all, and looking at him strangely.

As they are walking she thinks to herself "How will things be once we don't have to hide anymore?" "Will it be peaceful." Of course Tyr thinks she's distracted and nudges her. "What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" He says. She replies "Nothing, just pretending what a simple life would be with you." He smiles. Just then arrows fly by and they are not sure if it hunters or Jarls army. So thay find a brush to hunker down in and get on the defensive stance because they have no idea what is about to happen. Just then thay can hear the group going "This way! I just seen them!" .."Oh great."she thinks "Someone has turned us in or Jarl has found us!" She whispers to Tyr, still at the ready. Tyr shushed her. Just then the army of the town they just left emerges through the underbrush. To be continued....

[pinkletterday]

A Stitch In Time Ch1

Pairing: Oliver Queen/ Barry Allen

Rating: Mature

Tags: canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, so much angst, some bad jokes, Oliver Queen' trauma conga line, Oliver and Iris friendship, alt Arrow Season 3, untagged plot twist.

Summary:  Oliver hadn't expected his world to come crashing down when he had sent his boyfriend off to  see the Particle Accelerator launch. All he can do now is hold on to faith as Barry sleeps on - until he witnesses a miracle. 

He should have known that even miracles come at a price.

Chapter 1

Read on AO3

Oliver knew it was a bad idea to start necking in public view at the metro station but he couldn't help himself. They were lucky it was late and the other stragglers waiting for the eleven pm train were few. Besides, this was the last taste and feel of his boyfriend he was going to get till New Year's and he already looked unfairly adorable in his peacoat with his windswept hair.

"You are so bad at getting rid of me," Barry laughed as Oliver kissed his way down his jaw. 

"Yes," he murmured, licking the shell of Barry's ear, pleased at the shiver it elicited, "that's clearly what Im trying to do."

"Cant stand the sight of me already, huh?"

Oliver cupped his face and kissed him deeply. They were both panting when he drew away, thumb tenderly brushing the kiss-swollen lips. "You have no idea."

Their breath misted between them as leaned their foreheads together. "Mmm. This is a terrible plan," Oliver grumbled. "I hate sleeping without you."

"Hey, It's just for a few days," Barry pecked his lips soothingly. "Should be enough time to break the news to Joe about who I'm dating -"

" - I'm sure he'll be thrilled -"

" - and smooth things over so that when you fly in to meet him at New Year's, he'll be willing to give you a chance," Barry grinned at him. "I mean, he'll grunt and glare and do his whole cop Dad routine but he won't -"

" - go for his gun?" Oliver deadpanned.

"Don't be so dramatic," said Barry, pulling him firmly in by his coat lapels. "Joe's not unreasonable, just protective." 

Oliver quirked a brow. "You forget. I have some experience with dating the kids of cop Dads."

"True," Barry nodded solemnly, "but your experience is coloured by having dated both kids at once."

"Touché," Oliver conceded, "I'm sure that will be a point in my favour when it comes up." 

Barry titled his head, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Are you actually afraid, Mr. Scourge of Starling City?" 

"Is that my new nickname? Shame, The Arrow was kinda cool."

"No, but seriously," said Barry, entwining their fingers in reassurance. "You have nothing to be afraid of. My Dad likes you and so does Iris. You'll win over Joe too, in time."

Warmth suffused him, as it always did, at the unwavering faith in his lover's eyes, banishing the winter chill. He raised their interlocked hands and pressed a kiss on Barry's knuckles, reflecting that softness back at him. "I hope so. I want to be someone you can take home to your cop Dad."

"You should have thought of that before starting a career in vigilanteism," said Barry dryly. 

"Definitely a misstep, I see that now," Oliver nodded. 

They grinned at each other, insulated from the night's chill in their own small pocket of warm happiness, surrounded by the sludge and sleet of the city. A tendril of fear curled in Oliver's chest, some part of him still paranoid and disbelieving that he got to have this at all. 

He cradled the side of Barry's face, protectiveness rising. "Be careful," he told him seriously.

"Of what? Central is not the crazy town full of masked criminals and crimefighters," Barry rolled his eyes and raised a brow pointedly at him. "Besides, it's a little rich coming from the man who nearly coded in the Arrow Cave two nights ago. You're the one who needs to take better care of yourself."

"If I do, will you stop calling the foundry that?," said Oliver, resigned.

"Nope," Barry kissed the palm that cupped his cheek, eyes dancing.

Something of the lingering worry must have shown in his eyes however. His partner's face softened. "Don't worry, Oliver. I'm just going to watch Harrison Wells give a speech, witness the revolution of science as we know it and then go home with Iris and eat Joe's Christmas turkey. What kind of trouble could I possibly get into?"

The distant rumble beneath their feet announced the arrival of the train. "Barry Allen, if there's one thing I've learned about you over the past year," he said, a wry smile tugging at his mouth, "it's that if there's trouble to be had, you'll find it."

...

He was on the island again, stones scraping and bloodying his bare feet as he scrabbled up the rocky slope from the beach. Barry grinned at him in excitement from above. "Oliver, hurry up! We have to catch the man in the lightning!"

Storm clouds menaced from overhead and dread sank deep into his bones. He tried to climb faster with little progress. "Barry, it's not safe!" he yelled, but the wind that buffeted his face carried his words away. "Wait for me!"

Barry merely waved and disappeared over the hill. Oliver belly-crawled to the top to see him running through the trees, too far for him to ever catch up, but he had to try.

"Barry, please!," he called as he ran, jumping over tree roots, struggling to keep him in his sights as the driving sheets of rain obscured his vision. Thunder split the air, drowning his cries and Barry continued to out-pace him, his carefree laughter ringing eerily throughout the forest.

Something caught his foot and he tripped, falling face-down in the mud. He twisted around, trying to free himself, and came face to face with Shado.

She had emerged half-way from the earth, covered in mud and silt, her once-beautiful face sunken and waxy in death. "You left me to rot," she spat at him, "now you're going to stay with me."

He twisted and kicked out in horror but her grip was a vice around his ankle. Lightning speared down from the sky, striking the tree above him with a deafening crack. He rolled out of the way in time to avoid the enormous branch that crashed to the ground, crushing Shado back into the earth. "No!" he cried. He had never meant her to die again.

Lightning flashed once more and suddenly Slade stood over him, a huge sword pointed at his chest. An arrow was potruding out of one eye, blood streaming down his face. "You killed her, kid," he snarled. "You killed her again.

His elbow sank into the silt as he scrambled backwards - and then the rest of him was also sinking, trapped. "Oliver!" Barry's voice echoed above him as the bog dragged him down, the rain pelting into his mouth, choking him, "Oliver!"

"Oliver. Wake up."

He shot upright with a gasp, hand ready to land a nerve-strike to the other person's neck a split second before he recognized Iris. Trying to calm his breathing, he put his hand down slowly, heart juddering against his ribs.

The hospital room was dark except for the light above the bed, illuminating Barry's unconscious form, the quiet only broken by the steady beep of the heart monitor and the susurration of the ventilator. Iris was eyeing him in concern, dark curtain of hair brushing his arm as she leaned over him. 

"Hey," Oliver rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Eight. Dad'll be back soon. I came straight from work. Did you eat anything?" she asked briskly, bustling around the room.

Oliver shrugged, wincing at the now-permanent kink in his neck. "Grabbed something from the hospital cafeteria. Surprisingly good pudding cups."

She gave him an unimpressed look and handed him a Jitters pastry bag. He stuffed a croissant into his mouth gratefully.

"Have the doctors been? Anything new?" She leaned over Barry worriedly, pushing his hair back from his face as though searching for signs of change.

"Not since you called this afternoon, no."

She sighed, then forced a bright smile. "So," she said, dragging a chair beside him. "Did you two have fun today?"

"Oh, yeah. We had a busy morning," said Oliver, forcing an answering brightness in turn, "I helped the nurse give him a bath and a shave. Don't get me wrong, I love the man, but scruff is not a good look on him," he shook his head ruefully.

Iris giggled. "Yeeah. Barry just can't grow facial hair. It's the bane of his life," her grin turned wicked. "Did he tell you about the time he came home from college with a moustache?"

"No, really?" Oliver snorted in surprise.

"It was awful. He looked like a used car salesman from the seventies," she said in glee. "Dad and I couldn't keep a straight face. He was so mad!"

He put his pastry down to look seriously at her. "Please tell me you have pictures."

'Pfft, please. I ran for the camera the moment he walked in the door." Iris broke into fresh giggles at Oliver's admiring expression.

"You are an evil person."

She gasped. "You hear that Barry?," she said in mock offence, "He's calling me evil. You gonna take that lying down?"

They both froze, staring wide-eyed at each other. Then burst into almost hysterical laughter.

"Oh my God," Oliver buried his face in his hands, "that was awful."

Iris swatted his shoulder, still shaking with mirth. "Excuse you, it was an amazing pun. Don't you think so, Barry?"

"You see?," Oliver leaned toward Barry conspirationally, "Evil."

They subsided, smiling. Iris took Barry's hand. "You think he can hear us?," she asked wistfully, playing with his limp fingers, "The forums say they can hear and understand sometimes but can't respond -"

"It's a Scale 3 coma, Iris. Brain activity in that state usually indicates complete unconsciousness." He had, in the last three weeks, researched the subject with a diligence he had failed to apply to any of his abortive careers at Ivy League universities. He knew Iris had too.

"Doesn't mean he's not dreaming," she said stubbornly, "I know the doctors say it's unlikely because he doesn't have a sleep-wakefulness cycle but they also don't have a clue why he's flatlining and seizing at the same time..."

There was another pause, both of them holding their breath. They had fallen into a pattern of not talking about the seizures more than necessary, first beause they were terrifying but also out of an unspoken shared superstition that the mere mention of them would precipitate an onset.

But the moments went by and Barry continued to be still, the heart monitor beeping steadily.

Oliver finally broke the silence. "Well, if he can hear us, he's probably horrified at how much blackmail material we're going to be exchanging while he's getting his beauty sleep," he said, teasing a wan smile out of Iris. "And pretty bored, cause I've been reading QC's financial reports and quarterly projections to him."

"Wow. Sounds riveting."

"He thought it was a real snooze, actually," said Oliver solemnly.

Iris broke into a peal of laughter. Oliver grinned back, pleased with himself, before his eyes fell on the doorway where -

- Joe West was standing frozen.

"Detective West," he stood up from his seat, heart sinking. Well damn. After three weeks of painstakingly gaining the man's grudging approval too.

Iris turned around quickly as well. "Dad, we were just -"

But a smile was creasing his normally forbidding countenance, turning into a grin that transformed his face into a sunshine warmth that reminded Oliver of Barry's own. "A real snooze," the detective repeated, giggling.

The laughter that rippled among the room momentarily alleviated the pall that hung over it. For a few minutes they sat around Barry and chatted easily, occasionally talking to him too. It felt as though they were sitting in the Wests' living room having the normal family conversation he and Barry had envisioned during the holidays. Before the Accelerator explosion. 

Unfortunately, it was short lived.

The machines suddenly went haywire the exact same moment as the hospital lights started to flicker and die.

"Oh God, not again!"

Barry began to convulse and jerk on the bed. Oliver raced to hold him down but he kept thrashing like some ghastly marionnette pulled by invisible, torturous strings. Dimly he could hear Joe calling for help and Iris crying Barry's name over the terror drumming in his ears. The medical team streamed into the room, pushing him away and he let himself be shunted outside, reduced to watching helplessly.

"Barry!"

Iris was being restrained by a nurse, still shouting. Oliver watched numbly as Joe pulled her into his arms, face as haggard with shock as he felt. She buried her face in her father's chest and fell apart, the way he didn't know how to do anymore.

...

Henry Allen's face was always hopeful whenever he saw him. Oliver tried not to resent him for it, because having to extinguish it every time was awful.

"Is Barry -?" It was the first question that passed his lips the moment he picked up the phone, almost before he sat down and he slumped and aged a little more every time Oliver shook his head wearily.

But like his son, Henry was resilient of spirit, composing himself in short order. "It's been a while, Oliver," the man's smile and tone betrayed no accusation but Oliver still felt a stab of guilt.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that, Dr. Allen," he rubbed the weariness from his eyelids. "Barely had any time between Barry and my mother and wrangling the board at Starling."

"That wasn't a complaint. Just concern. And when are you going to start calling me Henry?" the older man asked in mock-stern humour.

Oliver huffed a laugh and relaxed. "Sorry, Henry."

"You shouldn't worry about me," Henry's blue eyes were painfully understanding, "Iris has been stopping by regularly, keeping me in the loop."

"I'm glad. She's been amazing," said Oliver warmly. Because she really was. But he had come to talk of a less pleasant topic. "Speaking of in the loop, Harrison Wells has spoken to Joe."

Henry's jaw tensed. "What does that man want?"

No one who loved Barry had much sympathy for the architect of the Particle Accelerator explosion, paralyzed and humiliated as he was. Even Henry Allen, as kind a man as had ever lived, couldn't forgive what he had done to his only child. Oliver hadn't thought he was the kind of man who would want to deck a man in a wheelchair but his knuckles itched every time he saw him on TV. Only the thought that this was probably how many Starling residents felt about his mother sobered him.

Still, objectively speaking, Wells's plan seemed pragmatic. Oliver didnt need a medical degree to know that the doctors were at a complete loss and with every seizure they came that much closer to losing Barry. 

Henry mulled this over at the end of his explanation. "What do you think?," he asked Oliver.

"It does make sense," he said begrudgingly.  "Barry's not getting better. We can't not try everything we can. And it would make me a hypocrite to begrudge someone trying to find redemption for a terrible mistake."

"But what do you think?"

The fact that Barry's father had grown to value his judgment so much never failed to catch Oliver off-guard and humble him. He looked the older man directly in the eye through the dirty glass that separated them.

"I don't trust him as far as I can throw him."

Henry searched his face for a long moment. Finally he jerked his head in a nod of understanding. "But you'll be watching him?"

Oliver's own jaw tightened. "You can count on it."

***

"You have to come home."

He ignored Felicity, continuing to stare at Barry's lax wrist in his hands, feeling the pulse beat humming-bird fast and thready, always seeming thin enough to dissolve.

She sighed. "I know you don't want to -,"

"I can't," he interjected firmly

" - but it's been five weeks. The Mirakuru is still out there and we still have no clue who the man in the skull mask is even though Digg and I have been shaking down as many known drug dealers as we can in the Glades. Isabel Rochev has been hounding us with calls...," Felicity sighed again, and this time he could hear the exhaustion in her own voice. A gentle hand laid on his shoulder. "The city is heading toward some kind of implosion, like with Merlyn last year. We can't let that happen again."

It was too much. Then let it implode, he thought savagely. Why do I have to be the one to save the goddamn city. What makes me so special? Haven't I paid enough for my family's sins?

His grip on Barry's hand tightened convulsively. The truth was that he was terrified to let go for fear that the tremulous thread anchoring Barry to life would snap. He should have known it would end this way. Should have known better than to hope, should have pushed Barry away when he had the chance before he let him down too...

"Why would you want to be with me?," he asked, searching Barry's eyes that still looked at him with such steady faith. "I failed the city. I failed everyone." Especially you.

"You didn't fail everyone. We helped people. You gave people a chance to save themselves. Gave them hope," Barry cupped his cheek tenderly. "Gave me hope."

"It wasn't enough," but Oliver couldn't help turning his face into the comfort of that hand. "I wasn't enough. I'm no hero, Barry."

"Maybe not. But what you are is a good man willing to risk everything to keep people safe," said Barry. "Maybe that's what the city needs, more than a hero. And for that," his hand curled around Oliver's, "you will always be a hero to me."

"Oliver," Digg's urgent voice made him look up sharply. "There's been a bombing downtown. Three people dead. We have to go back now."

Oliver nodded and stood up, making himself release Barry's hand.

I'm going to try and be the man you deserve.

He felt the shift from Oliver Queen to the Arrow as he squared his shoulders, emotion replaced by cold calculation. "I need to call Iris. Felicity, find out all you can about the bomber. Digg, get the jet ready. We'll plan en route."

***

"How's Barry?"

Felicity had the answer automatically ready for Oliver's habitual question almost before he had finished clattering down the stairs to the Arrow Cave, Sara at his heels.

"Still stable. At least according to the video feed," she waved at the monitor that displayed the STAR Labs cortex, where her friend was hooked up to a depressing number of machines. "I feel kinda bad about hacking into that. Cisco and Caitlin really do seem to be doing their best to take care of him."

"I'm not willing to take any chances," said Oliver, hanging up his bow and divesting himself of his quiver almost carelessly, his eyes trained on the screen.

A derisive scoff sounded behind him. "Well that's a big fat lie."

Felicity tensed as Oliver rounded on Sara. The small blonde was unfazed by his looming. She continued to put away her gear without looking at him, ire emanating from her own movements.

He turned around in time to unfortunately catch Felicity sharing a nervous glance with Diggle, who immediately adopted his stolid dealing-with-Oliver's-dramatics stance.

Oliver took a deep breath and cocked his head with an even expression. "Something you want to tell me?" he said, with that "definitely-not-bristling-I-am-a-calm-rational-human-being" demeanor he used when defending some exceptionally stupid decision.

Diggle, as usual, opened with the reasonable tack that invariably put Oliver on the defensive. "Oliver, we know how hard this has been on you. We care about Barry too. But it's been three months -"

"I'm not giving up on him!"

"We're not asking you to!" Sara exclaimed. "But you're being sloppy! You're distracted, you're barely rested, you're taking stupid risks and getting hurt more than usual, which is really saying something," she accentuated her point by slapping her glove against his chest. Felicity flinched. Oh boy.

"I'm doing the best I can," Oliver gritted mutinously.

"Don't you get it, Ollie? You don't have to give up on Barry but you're not helping anyone like this!" Sara got right in his face and Felicity inched her chair further back into the safety of her computer bank. "Slade's got us like sitting ducks, Roy's out of control and whatever issue you're having with Moira right now, our families are in danger! Starling needs you!"

Colour had risen in Oliver's cheeks, his eyes glinting dangerously like he was about fire right back at Sara. But then the fight seemed to deflate right out of him. He slumped, the sheer exhaustion he was fighting a losing battle with weighing down his broad shoulders. It made Felicity's heart hurt. "I'm already doing all I can think of," he sighed, running a hand over his face, "what more do you want me to do?"

Sara stepped back. Her expression had softened but her voice was still stern and unyielding. "If there's anything I've learned while I've been gone, it's that to protect people you have to focus on what's in front of you. You can't have your head in Central City if you're going to fix the problems here," Felicity winced a little at her bluntness. "Otherwise you'll lose both."

***

Despite years of yearning for its comfort, the Queen mansion had never really felt like home after he had returned. Now it was merely a hollow shell preparing to pass into the hands of strangers, his failures dogging him with each echoing footstep. 

"Thea is out there hurt or worse because of one person - and it's not Slade Wilson," Roy's eyes burned in his gaunt face. "I believed in you."

"How could you not tell me Malcolm Merlyn was my father?" Thea's eyes were full of accusation and betrayal as she curled into herself. "I believed in you."

"I'd say they'd lost faith in your leadership, but that would imply there was any," said Isabel snidely, vicious victory sparking in her eyes. "Maybe you should have focused a little less on your...evening activities."

"Your father had a weakness for beautiful, strong women."

Even his own room felt like it belonged to someone else, except for the framed picture of himself and Barry sitting on the mantlepiece.

They were both wearing ugly Christmas sweaters that Barry had insisted were traditional, snuggled on the couch in the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. Barry was wrapped in his arms with a look of supreme contentment on his face while Oliver pressed a tender kiss to his tousled head tucked under his chin. He had spent that night at the mansion for the first time, smugly relishing making love in the bed of Oliver's adolescence. Waking up to Barry's drowsy half-lidded gaze had filled him with a contentment he hadn't known was possible.

"I'm so happy I'm frightened," Oliver confessed, his face buried in Barry's neck.

"Why are you frightened?" Barry reached back to card his fingers through Oliver's hair.

He tightened his arms around him. "Of what would happen if I lost you."

Barry turned around to face him, smile sleep-soft and sweet. "You could never lose me."

But you lied, thought Oliver, bile rising in his throat as he stared at the picture in his hands. You left me too.

The rage he hadn't realized had been simmering just beneath the surface suddenly blazed white-hot. He hurled the picture at the wall and swept an arm across the entire mantlepiece, clocks, curios and pictures joining the shattered frame on the floor.  The memories of failure and betrayal chased him one after the other as he destroyed every memento in the room in a red haze, kicking, ripping, smashing.

The room was littered in glass shards and debris when he was finally spent, sliding along the wall to drop limply onto the floor. At his feet, Barry's and his happy smiles gazed up at him from the broken frame. 

***

Oliver had had this nightmare many times before, replaying that night again and again until he was crying for it to end. But those had taken place in the darkness and freezing wind of the island, the pale torchlight illuminating Sara's and Shado's terrified faces before Ivo shot Shado in the head. Sometimes both her and Sara. Over and over.

Now the harsh beams of the truck's headlights and Oliver's own concussion made everything swim in amber, and the voices begging for their lives belonged to his mother and sister.

"Choose!" No. This was just another nightmare. It had to be. Please God. Please.

But the ropes cutting into his wrists felt very real and part of him knew there would be no merciful awakening from this, any more than there had been the last time. 

"Let me make the right choice now! Kill me! It's me you want!" he pleaded desperately, ignoring Thea's and his Mom's renewed cries. I can't take this anymore. Please stop hurting them. Let me die and be with Barry. Let it all end.

"I will kill you," sneered Slade, drawing his gun from his belt and cocking it. "Only more slowly than you would like. I confess, I enjoyed how much pain you've been in watching your lover die by inches," he gloated over Oliver's face and the thought of the deranged man standing over Barry's unconscious form sent ice through him, "But it wasn't enough. Despite everything, you still keep clinging to a strand of hope, however thin. Hope that I can never have." Slade straightened, turning back to his mother and sister. "No, Oliver. I need you to taste true despair. I need you to suffer by my own hand, not just fate's."

"And so...," he laid the barrel of the gun over little Thea's head in a mockery of benediction, ignoring her face soaked in tears. "Choose."

"Please," Oliver choked. "Don't."

"Choose!" Over his mother's head this time.

The fury erupting from his chest was a living thing, searing across his veins, raging to rip Slade's throat out, to feel the satisfying crunch of his neck breaking, to stab an arrow clean through his other eye socket with his bare hands. Yet, the ropes still held.

"CHOOSE!"

But Moira was struggling to her feet, head held proudly aloft despite the arms wrenched behind her back.

"Mom?" No. No no no no no. "What're you doing?"

"There is only one way this night can end," said Moira, voice steady through a throat raw with tears. She turned to Slade, composed and dignified even with the sweat and grime streaking her hair and face, "we both know that, don't we, Mr. Wilson?"

Oliver heard himself and Thea pleading as though from far away. It wasn't real. It couldn't be real. He suddenly remembered his Dad in the raft, pointing the gun at his own temple. 

"Close your eyes, baby!" Moira implored, but Oliver was transfixed.

Slade seemed taken aback. "You possess great courage," he said deferentially, lowering his gun and turning away. For one wild moment, it seemed as though she might be spared - but then he saw Slade's hand grasp the hilt of his sword.

Thunder rumbled, reverberating the ground beneath his feet. Oliver remembered distantly that there had been a storm on the island that night as well. 

Thea screamed as Slade whirled around, the blade flashing silver.

And the world turned gold.

The flare of incredible light seared his eyes, static raising every hair on his body. A moment later, a sonic boom knocked him sideways as something immense cleaved the world in two.

Oliver was only stunned for a bare moment before his reflexes took over, rolling him to his feet almost in the same motion. He shook his head, clearing his vision to see Slade fallen against a tree some ten feet away, trying to struggle to his feet. His mother and sister were nowhere to be seen except for the ropes on the ground.

Panic thudded wildly in his chest. "What did you do?," he yelled at Slade, "What did you do to them?"

But the other man's seemed just confused as he staggered around almost foolishly.

"Thea! Mom!" Oliver yelled. He suddenly realized his hands were untied.

Slade seemed to finally regain his bearings and rounded on him, his face a rictus of fury. "SEARCH THE PERIMETER!" he roared into the darkness. "BRING THEM TO ME!"

Something gleamed on the ground a few feet away. A bare flicker of Slade's eye confirmed that he had seen it too. Their eyes locked on each other for a milisecond before they both lunged sideways for the gun.

Oliver's knee landed in Slade's gut the same time as Slade's armoured knuckles caught him in the jaw. Stars burst across his vision but he hooked his ankle around the other man's leg without a moment's pause. They rolled around in the dirt, scrabbling for the weapon until Slade managed to pin Oliver to the ground, closing his preternaturally strong hand around his throat.

He knew what it was when he felt it this time, the earth rumbling beneath him a second before gold light filled his vision, incandescent enough to blind him through his eyelids, to burn him - but it only enveloped him in a gentle warmth before the world tilted.

The ground under his feet turned to pressurized air, locking him in place as the rest of the world rushed past in a blur, a tidal wave giving the illusion of being dragged into the sea. But he was not grasping for breath and his eyes did not sting; he was engulfed in a warm, secure bubble as the golden rods of light streamed on either side of him, of them, a masked person with lightning eyes -

- and suddenly it all stopped, slamming the breath from his lungs, the ground hard beneath his feet. The thunder clap rang in his ears before he had finished falling to his knees.

It had all happened between one blink and the next. He grasped the earth, disoriented. Only it wasn't earth at all but concrete.

"Whoa, easy there," said an oddly vibrating voice. A gloved hand laid on his back. Oliver flinched and rolled away from it, gaining his feet again.

A tall, almost lanky man in a form-fitting suit was silhouetted against the backdrop of...city lights? They were on a rooftop?

"Who are you?" Oliver demanded, falling into a defensive stance despite still fighting nausea. "Where are we?"

"We're on the roof of Verdant" said the man again in that mechanically resonant voice. There was something oddly familar about it. "Don't worry, your mother and sister are safe. I left them at the Glades precinct. Captain Lance will take care of them."

Oliver noted that the man had gotten Quentin's designation wrong but there were more pressing concerns. "How did we get here? Where's Slade?"

"Deathstroke is, uh, taking a small nappy nap," said the man, airily wiggling his  fingers. "I knocked him out, picked you up and ran you here. Don't worry, it wasn't a bridal carry."

"You carried me?"

"Don't sound so surprised. I'm pretty strong. The speed also helps a lot," he shrugged in what seemed like self-deprecation.

"That's not possible."

Oliver swallowed, thoughts racing. He had to find a way to get off this roof and he needed answers. But how do you escape something this fast?

"Isn't it? I thought you said you were more ready to believe in the impossible than most people." I've spent my whole life chasing the impossible. His heart stopped.

"Who are you?"

The man stepped closer to him so Oliver could see his face more clearly in the blazing glow of the city that suffused the evening sky. He wanted to take a step back but his feet were again rooted to the ground as the man ducked his head and pulled back the mask. Barry smiled tentatively, hair tousled and cheeks wind-flushed. "Hey."

***

Either Oliver had forgotten how beautiful Barry was when he was awake or Slade had hit him really hard and he was now hallucinating.

"You. You're not-" his throat was closing. "You're not real."

Not-Barry looked at him gently. "I promise I'm real. See?" He took off a glove and reached out a hand between them. Oliver stared at it. The long slender fingers and slim wrist were so familiar, he reached out to touch it almost without thinking.

The other man's eyes were tender and his smile tired but sweet as ever, dimpling his cheeks. The hand, soft and warm, slotted neatly into his own, fingers intertwining in sense-memory.

"It's me, Oliver," he said, stepping closer. "It's really me."

Oliver touched the man's face as though in a dream. He traced the planes of those cut-glass cheekbones, the shadows cast by his sweeping lashes, the freckles around his eyes, the plush pink lips. They gently brushed his own open mouth and he was suddenly surrounded by the scent of rainstorms and honey beneath which he could sense the taste and feel that was uniquely Barry.

"Barry," he breathed. "Barry."

Oliver grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him forward for a furious kiss that made him grunt and stagger in surprise. He fisted his hands through those soft chestnut waves, holding Barry's head in place to sweep his tongue deeper into his mouth, starving for his taste, his touch, his moans driving him even more delirious.

It was an eternity of bliss and yet not nearly enough when his lover broke free. He caught Oliver's wrists, panting. "Oliver," Barry leaned their foreheads together, both their breathing ragged. Oliver's blood pounded in his ears. He only realized he'd been crying when Barry brushed the wetness away with his ungloved thumb. "Oh Ollie," he murmured sadly.

"Are you dead?," Oliver choked out. His vision blurred with tears but he let them brim over, afraid to blink.

"Are we both dead? Is this heaven?"

"What? Ollie, no," Barry huffed a laugh and turned his face into Oliver's hand to kiss it. "We are both very much alive."

"But I need you to listen to me," his grip on his wrists tightened urgently, those wonderfully awake and alert eyes pinning his own with startling intensity, "I don't have much time. First off, I'm not really back."

Oliver's heart sank and he pulled Barry impossibly closer, running frantic hands over his body searching for damage. "What do you mean?"

Catching his hands again, Barry turned Oliver's chin up to face him full-on. "To understand what I'm about to tell you," he spoke careful and clear, "you need to believe in the impossible. Can you do that?"

Oliver laughed incredulously. "I don't need to believe, I just saw it."

"No, there's more to it. Listen," he took a deep breath, "I'm from the future."

"From...the future," repeated Oliver blankly. This somehow seemed to make perfect sense, in that surreal way the twists and turns of a dream seemed perfectly reasonable.

"Yes. The me of right now is still in a coma at STAR Labs," said Barry. "I'm going to wake up in a few months and I'm going to have these powers."

"Powers? Like...turning into lightning?"

"No, but I am lightning fast and I can generate my own lightning bolts...eventually." Something tight flickered over his expression but he shook it away and refocused. "The point is, I will develop my powers over time until one day I accidentally time-travel."

"Absolutely nobody can find out what really happened here tonight, not even me. I need to find out about my powers by myself and you can't tell me or anyone until one day, I have to deliberately choose to time travel for the first time," Barry cupped Oliver's face in his hands, almost vibrating with urgency. "You have to promise me."

Oliver was still struggling to get a grip on reality. "But why?"

"Because that is how it happened before and now must be again," said Barry. His face was inscrutable. "Anything else will create a paradox. Promise me."

"I promise. I won't tell anyone." He still didn't have the slightest idea what Barry was saying but he would promise his soul to have his partner back like this, warm, responsive, alive.

He couldn't make himself let go of him though. He wasn't sure he knew how. "But - Barry, there's so much happening in the city right now - I need you. I don't know if I can do this without you."

"Oliver, you can do this," and there was that immovable trust in Barry's eyes that he had been starving for, making his heart soar and humbling him to his core at the same time, "It won't be easy but you're not alone. Trust in your family and your team. They have your back. You can save the city and you will beat Slade."

The band that had constricted his chest for months finally loosened, allowing free breath. "You really believe that?"

Barry smiled. "I don't have to believe it. I've already seen it."

It suddenly struck Oliver that this Barry was different in a way that had nothing to do with the mask or the powers. There was an invisible weight on the slope of those broad shoulders. Even his smile was not the full-blown beam of sunshine he was used to, some sad shadow pulling at the creases of his mouth and eyes, and the furrow of his brow. There was a battered and bowed gravity to him that Oliver recognized.

What happened to you? What made you so much like me?

Perhaps Barry had seen him reading too much in his demeanor. Stepped back uncomfortably, he pulled Oliver's hands away. "I have to go," he softened at the sound of distress that escaped Oliver, hands scrabbling to pull him back. "This is real, Ollie," he framed his face in his hands again, eyes as tender as they were intense, "I promise. I'm going to wake up."

Oliver swallowed past the knot in his throat and nodded. "Okay. I believe you."

"And I believe in you," Barry gently pried his hands loose and Oliver, with a Herculean effort, let him.

He stood at the edge of the building, silhouetted in shadow and scarlet against the liquid yellow-gold of the city. Electricity crackled at his feet, spidering up his body which Oliver could sense vibrating with power even at this distance. Almost a demi-god, an entity that belonged to a place and time Oliver could not hope to follow. 

A sudden desperation gripped him. "Barry," he called, "I love you."

Barry gave him that soft, sad smile over his shoulder. "I know," he said, lightning sparking in his eyes.

Oliver was braced for the sonic boom this time. He watched in awe as the red-gold comet blazed across the city into the horizon before disappearing into a vortex of swirling blue light.

Now that... is really cool.

Bonus deleted scene

Chapter 2

[mdwatchestv]

Game of Thrones 7x06: Run Joe, Run

Woo boy that was A LOT. Like a lot, a lot. In so many different ways. I would even go so far as to describe some elements as 'extra'. Yes there was excitement, action, and feels. I even admit to screaming bloody murder when the zombie bear came from a direction I didn't expect. But when all was said and done I couldn't help but feel a bit...used. This season, although boasting some great moments, has felt undeniably different than previous years. Instead of focussing on building out a world and the characters that inhabit it, the show is now rocketing towards a foregone conclusion. If the world of Game of Thrones is a chess board and we have spent the past several years watching knights and queens slowly slide around the squares jockeying for position, this season is the equivalent of knocking it all to the ground and letting the pieces literally fall where they may. Alternatively, if the world of Game of Thrones was a high-end Barbie collector's basement, this is the season his eight-year-old niece broke in, ripped 1993 Holiday Barbie out of her box and made her make out with 1960 1st edition Ken. And neither of those things are inherently bad, playing with dolls and knocking a boring game on the floor are both entertaining in and of themselves, but they are also a departure from what we have come to expect.

Before this season I never thought about things like "Wait- how many long miles IS Westeros? What is the land speed of a laden Raven? What's the MPH on a dragon? How long by air? How long by sea?" I wasn't worried about the logistics, the tech specs. We had other things to worry about, like battle strategies, familial strain, and tyrannical kings. But now it feels as if the curtain is starting to be pulled aside and we are for the first time seeing the mechanics at work behind the scenes. While there were thrills to be had in this super-sized penultimate outing of season seven, they came at a price. In the after-episode special Benioff and Weiss openly admitted to essentially reverse-engineering the entire episode in order to get the final shock of zombie dragon, rather than letting it be the consequence of an organic series of events. One of the reasons Game of Thrones works so well is that consequences, even the upsetting ones, feel earned. The Red Wedding, for example, tragic as it was, was ultimately palatable because it made sense in the larger story. It was the tangible result of a series of connectable actions, not a gambit for ratings. Often the killing of beloved characters leads fan to become disillusioned with a show because it's done in the service of shock value, rather than organic storytelling. But as major characters drop on Game of Thrones, it only acts to draw the audience in further because it’s done in a way that rewards previous storytelling. The idea that characters are existing in a real world with real stakes and consequences is compelling and rare. Up until this season Game of Thrones never had characters rendered immortal by their series regular contracts, or even clear-cut heroes and villains. Yes, we root for different characters and houses, but at this point no one has a clean moral conscious. Those qualities are exactly what made Game of Thrones so good, and what it is seemingly starting to lose.  It's worth pointing out that up until recently the show has had source material to rely on for guidance, and is now having to pick it's own path to the end. Viewer’s theories about the show’s endgame have become increasingly out there, perhaps in response to a world where outcome is not necessarily determined by prior events. For better or worse, anything is possible. 

This episode was some moments of interest strung together with moments of "what?!?!?". Let's begin. ZARTF (Zombie Acquisition and Retrieval Task Force), as well as a few randos clearly marked for death, sally forth into the north. This whole episode gave me greatest hits of Lord of the Rings vibes, including "walking in a straight line across a mountain", "being rescued by a giant winged beast at the last second", and "rolling up half dead on a horse". I really gotta carve out 10 hours to rewatch those. To pass the time tromping through the snow our seven "heroes" try and work through their daddy issues (a little late imo), and Jon makes a half-assed attempt to give Longclaw back to Jorah (conveniently failing to mention it's like the only thing that kills White Walkers). The first sign of trouble comes when the group is set upon by a zombie bear! You hate to see that. Some of the red shirts are killed, Top Knot McGillicutty is wounded, and Jorah saves the day with his dragon glass dagger. Which I guess they all have? Or just Jorah? Unclear. This scene is what we like to call in the biz a foreshadowing.

Meanwhile in Dragonstone Dany is mooning over Jon Snow, even though he is a short stack (he IS super little) and ignores Tyrion who is attempting to invent democracy. In their exchange it's reiterated that Dany can never have babies (beyond her dragon babies), making a potential hold on the Iron Throne tenuous at best (Jon is still the *true* heir, but doesn't seem like Bran is going to tell anyone that anytime soon). Dany would rather not talk about any of that though, and would rather crush/not crush on the King of the Short. Speaking of women on the edge, the Sisters Stark are also failing to see eye to eye. After discovering Arya's BAG OF FACES (I have so many questions about the logistics of face wearing, but I am simply too tired to get into it), Sansa is understandably concerned. These concerns are heightened when creepy-ass Arya pops in to play a decidedly threatening game of questions. Arya seems to think Sansa is out to usurp Jon because she is a Cersei-in-training. Sansa thinks Arya is a terrifying demon child. This is a relationship that has also become frustrating centering around a conflict that doesn't ring true. While it's true that Arya and Sansa have become very different young women, there is more that unites than divides them at this point and Arya's extreme aggression towards her sister feels unwarranted. The core characteristic of the Stark family is that they ARE the Stark family. Arya put aside her dreams of Cersei killing in order to reclaim her heritage, and with the pack dwindling the remaining wolves have to stick together now more than ever. Both of these women have been through extreme trauma, both of them have had to make unthinkable choices in order to survive, and both of them have been continually underestimated by their male cohorts. I'm not saying this is a relationship that should not be without conflict, but their animosity lacks nuance. Granted this show doesn't have a lot of experience with complicated female relationships, but Sansa and Arya attempting to reconnect as complex young women in a time of crisis feels like a real missed opportunity.

And I have seen the Twitter theories that say that the two girls are gaming Littlefinger together, that Sansa sending Brienne away (to an I think prematurely scheduled zombie viewing) right after Littlefinger advised her to use Brienne against Arya is concrete proof. As much as I hope this is all true, it just doesn't seem likely at this point. But maybe Sansa's bizarrely abrupt send off of her last loyal subject really was a clue to a larger plot, or maybe it's just an excuse to put Brienne back in Jaime's path to give him a last second shot of moral obligation. I would love nothing more for my pessimistic theories surrounding two of my long time favs to be proven wrong. These two characters, no matter their ultimate fate, deserve the chance at a final team up.

Back up north, our band of brothers conveniently stumble upon a manageable squadron of zombies led by a White Walker. After dispatching the Walker all the zombies but *one* turn into dust. The plan is going smoothly! However the last zombie calls the rest of the hoard and they are well and truly fucked. The group sends good old Gendry to run back to the Wall (an unknown distance) to raven Dany for help, while the rest of the pack becomes stranded on a rock in the middle of an ice lake surrounded by the entire undead army. Here's where I have questions. Question 1: If Ole One Eye and Top Knot McGee can make fire whenever they want, why cant they have a fire on the island? Or at least gather around one of the swords? Question 2: Can the zombies not use bows? It seems like our group would be pretty easy to take down with a couple dozen arrows. Question 3: How long are they waiting/expecting to wait? How long does it take for the raven to get to Dany? More questions to come later. Anyway Top Knot succumbs to his wounds, meaning that One Eye is now on his final life. The Hound, who was pretty useless most of this episode, continues to be useless by alerting the zombie hoard that the ice is safe to walk on. Our party engages in a seemingly hopeless battle against an untold number of assailants, hoping against hope for a dragony miracle to happen.

And it does! Dany swoops in with her brood in the last second, blasting the zombies with fire, and rocking a seriously fabulous white fur coat, to save the day! Not only is her winter wardrobe literally to die for, it also looks like she may have skinned Ghost to make it, symbolizing her new allegiance (romance?) with Jon. I also have to ask at this point why this wasn't the original plan. Dany made pretty good time getting up there, didn't have to tromp through the snow, and likely could have had Drogon pick up a zombie in his talons-  all in seemingly less than a day! But I guess that would have been much less macho than grimly marching through the snow. It looks like the tables have turned in favor of our hereos when suddenly....the Night King picks up an ice spear and takes out Viserion! Nooooo.

This was a genuinely heart-wrenching moment, as an audience we have watched Dany's dragons grow from hatchlings to giant death machines, and seeing one of them ripped out of the sky was just as painful as losing any beloved human character. Again this was a moment that delivered an emotional punch, but the journey to that payoff was not as satisfyingly authentic as it could have been. Jon, realizing the White Walkers are somehow ready for dragon combat, sacrifices himself so Drogon can take off with his payload safely. But it's an empty sacrifice, because Jon is last minute rescued by BENJEN STARK, who is part ice monster, part North of the Wall lifeguard, all Stark all the time. If you recall Benjen, or Cold Hands I guess is his nickname, previously came in for the save with his swinging lantern when he rescued Meera and Bran. But Benjen's last minute saving days are over as he is eaten by zombies in order to allow Jon to escape. Sad.

Back at the wall Dany ignores Daddy Jorah in favor of wistfully staring out over the tundra, hoping for Jon to appear. And appear he does! Jon is more than fine, especially shirtless and wrapped in furs on Dany's pleasure yacht. The two have some weird flirting where Dany reveals she can never have children, and Jon actually refers to her as 'Dany'. Good thing they are both so hot, because that banter wouldn't cut it anywhere else. Also she's his aunt. I simply cannot stress that enough.

As a final coda to this decades long episode, we see the Night Army dragging the corpse of Viserion out of the lake only to reanimate him into an ice zombie dragon! Gah! Shit is most definitely getting real, as the Night King adds some real power to his arsenal. Will zombie dragon still breathe fire? Ice? Freezing rain? Excited to find out. Next week (the season finale???) looks like it will be the zombie summit down in King's Landing. I have zero predictions for this. My only hope is that Euron will be there, I miss him. In a world of uncertainty, Euron brings the party.

Stuff I didn't get to:

Stop shipping Dany/Jon, START shipping Brienne/Beardy

They almost took Beardy from me after I SPECIFICALLY asked them not too.

Beardy learned the word dick <3

Beardy rode a dragon!!!

MVP: Beardy. I don't have to defend myself.

XO MD

[animuras]

best wishes for the holidays [drabble] [start]

this ‘drabble’ got crazy out of hand and I’m not gonna finish it in time, so we’re breaking it into parts. i’ll get the first two out now, and then update as i finish.

          part i Souta doesn’t see the present for a while. Not for the usual reason, because he isn’t at his own place at all, but at Roma’s, sleeping in a nest of pillows and blankets and the scattered ashes of any dignity he might have ever had. No, he’s actually been in his own room more, trying to see if bashing his head into a different wall will make a difference.

December, December is always busy, only this year, there’s nothing to do. Nothing left to be busy but his own messed up fractured brain, and honestly, after months he’s getting tired of that. You’d think with 25 years of repressed trauma his mind could get more than a couple months of horrific waking nightmares before it started getting repetitive, but most of his life had been empty repetition, anyway. Repetition and habituation. There were only so many things left that could qualify as nightmares and Roma singing off key at 3am had most of them beat at this point.

Most of them, but not all. There’s more left, even now than he’d like. He tries to pretend, like he always has, that he’s fine. After all, there’s entire other universes of anime to watch, novels to read, video games to play. Brand new gacha games, even. It’s almost enough to smear globs of white-out over the days he can hardly remember, knocked off balance by the passing smell of some specific flowers, or the wrong shade of purple hair. There are days when his sides ache, when the scar on his chest feels like its bleeding, when the kakuhou under his skin feel like they’re tearing him apart from the inside and he just lies there hoping they really will, really eat him alive after all this time, just like he’d asked so many years ago.

It’d gotten better for a bit, certainly. Even with the odd Zombie Apocalypse. But, as if on some kind of alarm, as soon as the calendar had flipped over to December, that same month is baby of a boss had marked up on the wall, the gears he’d barely managed to get turning started to spin out again.

It’s almost been a year, give or take an entirely different universe’s counting of time. A year since he’d felt that old man’s blood splash up over his gloves, since he’d felt the give of his sinew and bone under katana’s forged to defend him. A year since he’d conducted that orchestra, hallways of his childhood painted red, redecorated with corpses.  All that waiting and a year ago it really, finally started, he’d dragged the boulder to the top of the hill at last. All that was left was a few quick months of it rolling down, down, down.

And it had, hadn’t it? It had even crushed him under its weight like he wanted, in the end. What more could he have wanted. Would it have made any difference at all if he’d been able to make it through the next few scenes? Would the world have cared? It wouldn’t have mattered, really. He’d have been dead either way.

Maybe he’d have been here, either way, too, spending December in a new universe, (some computer simulation, maybe, he doesn’t even know,) not able to tell the difference between dreams and waking and memories, and too tired to bother to push them away by the middle of the month.

He lays in his bed and watches them, sometimes, the memories and nightmares, the video reel of his life with all its scratches and tears from being played like this so many times on a faulty projector. They transition seemlessly between things that really happen and things that never did, between fact and fiction, recall, imagination, dream, nightmare. If the screaming is real, really coming from outside his door or window, he wouldn’t know. He wouldn’t care.

He watches Kijima tap dance across his floor, his head cut in half, spraying blood everywhere and thinks, with annoyance, how hard all that will be to clean, hopes his roommates, wherever they are, can’t hear the thudding of that peg leg, and its only when the patchwork man phases clear through the wall that he remembers there’s no noise, no blood, not really. The wall beyond him shifts and he’s at Itori’s bar, her usual choice of music playing in the background.

The last thing I need is to get drunk, he thinks, pushing the bottle away from him. How many days has it been since he’s slept?

“How do you know you aren’t sleeping right now?” Itori lilts at him

“I don’t,” he says. “I never do these days.”

“I have to say,” Uta says from beside him, “the scientists have amazing timing, don’t they?”

Souta turns, looks at him from across the cafe table, a cup of hot black coffee in one gloved hand.

“There I was, so excited to see what Tokyo had to offer, but life is never so kind as to give us what we want.”

That’s true, he thinks, as the scene continues to play.

“I can only guess how frustrating it is to have such closely calculated plans interrupted in this kind of way.”

That’s also true.

“Killing your dad so easily… your inspiration is truly priceless.”

“So,” his own voice says, though it takes him a second to place, “They’re all dead then?”

Huh? His head buzzes, and the cafe around him shifts and he was back in that office,  then nowhere at all, then lying in a bedroom, staring at a strangely familiar white ceiling. He sits up, and looks down to see a small silver star in his hand.

Holiday presents were just as bad as birthday presents. Usually food or something consumable or trash, right? And yet here he is.

A wish, huh?

Huh?

There’s no star here at all, no poster on the wall, in fact, this room looks nothing like that. Dreams again, strangely banal dreams.

Which is when he sees the present. It’s not a star, but then dreams like to make those subtle and stupid changes. This must be why he’d put that silly one together.

He knows right away this was another plot of this hell without even looking at the strange name on the tag. He should throw it out. What reason did he have to think this... present would be any more amenable than anything else about this city.

Deja Vu, probably from the dream, nags at the back of his skull. He should just leave it be—

[ part ii ]