#oliver queen appreciation

[joeey-dee]

Do you have any Oliver headcannons? /gen

Yes, so many… don’t even know where to start, lol. 

Most are pre-Gambit, and who he was before. The show gave us very little information and what they did give us was a bit contradictory or the sources weren’t that reliable; the press, Oliver himself. And I know this statement probably seems a bit strange, how can Oliver not be a reliable source about his past? Well, it’s very simple, Oliver has a very negative view of himself, he also has the tendency to shoulder the blame for everything and twist and turn events around in his mind until he found a version of events that would make him the bad guy and solely responsible for all the bad that happened to people he cared about. 

This is shown very well during that scene by the fire with Sara on Lian Yu, when he apologizes to her and he pretty much tells her if it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t be there. This scene also brings something else with it that makes me appreciate it and Sara a lot, because different than most people in his life, Sara points out how ridiculous the notion that he is responsible for her being on Lian Yu with him is, that he did not force her, and that he wasn’t even the main reason why she joined him on the Gambit. That she is responsible for her own choices and the consequences that came with them. 

And even though, she „absolves“ him of his guilt, Oliver never stopped blaming himself and feeling responsible for what happened to Sara. Coming home and having people put all the blame back on him again didn’t help the situation.

So, the way Oliver sees the person he was pre-Gambit is not objective because the people in his life act as if he had been horrible, but the few flashbacks we got, some of the stories we got, show something different. Sure he made some serious mistakes, he was pretty much out of control (might not have been had his parents parented more instead of letting him get away with anything and everything and made things go away by throwing money at the situation instead of trying to find out why Oliver was acting the way he was. It worked with Thea, once Moira stepped up, Thea acted out less.) 

If you asked me, and this is one of my major head canons which pretty much bleeds into all of my stories, Oliver was already having serious mental issues before the Gambit. Mentally stable, and healthy people who literally have the world at their feet and all the opportunities there are, do not get drunk to the point of punching a paparazzo or peeing on a cop regularly. They do not sabotage a seemingly perfect relationship by cheating repeatedly. They do not throw their life away and waste their potential, and Oliver had a lot, he is highly intelligent.

I think the partying and drinking was both an escape and a cry for help.

I personally think Oliver was the poster child of the upper echelon that we see so often in the magazines or on TV. The ones most people are envious of because they believe simply by having been born into such a privileged world their lives are perfect. Yet, what most of us never see or consider is the pressure and expectations that come with that privilege or in Oliver’s case last name. To me it appeared he had no say or control over his life and future, he didn’t want to work for QC, but it was clear to his parents that he would. He didn’t seem to enjoy school or actually want to get a college education, he dropped out of four, yet he was forced to get one. It’s a juxtaposition he was in, on the one hand the sky was the limit, there was nothing he couldn’t do, because he owned more money than most people can even wrap their heads around and money can open a lot of doors that otherwise would stay shut, Oliver also seems to be a thrill seeker and that is a dangerous combination. I’d say, it is a pretty fair assessment that Oliver didn’t just drink a lot but also used drugs. Again, going by what I know about that societal class, it’s not difficult to believe that drugs were easy to come by at those parties. On the other hand, he was trapped in a life and a future he didn’t want; going to college, taking over QC. I think that can really mess with you. 

Oliver is also a bit of a people pleaser and he hates to hurt people and he also really doesn’t like confrontation or talking about his feelings. Which I think played a huge part in the issues he and Laurel ended up having. Plus when he did actually share his feelings, she didn’t take them seriously. 

What always bothers me is the way people act as if Oliver is a horrible person, which just shows me they obviously haven’t tried to see his side of the story, which just boggles my mind since the show is supposedly his story. Oliver is such a troubled and misunderstood person, but like Raisa said, he was a good boy, with a good heart, and that never changed. Oliver has a heart of gold and he just wants to see the people he loves happy and to help where he can. 

I trust Raisa and Thea’s view on pre-Gambit Oliver a lot more than Oliver’s. And yes, Thea’s might have to be taken with a small grain of salt too, because she was so young, he was her big bro and she idolized him, but would she have idolized him if he had been a bad big brother? I doubt it, and I think the way he treated Thea, made her a priority in his life even with their almost ten year age difference says a lot about the kind of person and older brother he was. 

Thank you so much for that question, I hope I answered it, not sure since I feel I got a little off track and it turned more into a ramble, sorry about that. If not, don’t hesitate to send another question, or if you want specifics, just ask and I try to answer them as well as I can. But one of my major head canons is that Oliver has always been a good guy, even before the Gambit, he was just troubled and struggling.

[cardboard-writer]

Good god.

Better view:

Source: Black Canary (1993) #5 by Sarah Byam with art by Trevor Von Eden.

[agent371]

Eat up now. I don't think I can do better than this ever again.

Heres the reference: (I couldn't not draw them to this)

@blumineck is the account

And here is the process with line art (1) the 1st final (2), then I put that in black and white and tried to fix the colours(3), then I did the actual final piece.

[underestimated-shadow]

They Are Simultaneously Short Kings and Drama Queens.

[jooeeydee]

We know how Sara Lance likes her coffee, black with lots of sugar! We learn that early on in Legends Season One. You might like your coffee differently and that's fine, so is artistic liberty in matters the show didn't elaborate on but if the show gave us the answer, stick with it. And the shows gave us several people's coffee preferences. Sara drinks it black with two sugars, Oliver likes it black, Felicity drinks a none fat latte with extra sugar (that makes zero sense on a nutrition level) just to name a few. We got the info. So do your research. Use another methaphor. Sorry things like that just really annoy me. But then again, I spend hours working out the smallest detail and researching things like Max Fuller's wife's name...

She doesn't like her coffee bitter, like her relationships and dirty martini, the woman mainly drinks scotch!, like do your research if you use it as something to make a point about a character and their actions.

And Sara was not sleeping with whoever tickled her fancy during her time with the Legends. There were a few choice people she hooked up with but she wasn't sleeping her way through time as so many Avalance people would like to make it out.

And who the hell thinks Ava's sweet while Oliver is bitter? It's like the exact opposite. Oliver's the sweetest person on the planet, Ava is so fucking bitter it's not even funny anymore.

And I don't why I'm over here ranting. Blame it on all the people tagging fics as Canarow simply for mentioning the fact that Sara used to date Oliver. That's a fact, you don't need to tag it that for two sentences.

I swear I get heat for also tagging a Canarrow story Olicity because technically in the story Oliver is with Felicity as in the present but Avalance and Olicity people tag a story Canarrow just because Sara and Oliver having been together is mentioned or they break up in the first chapter and them actually being together is never shown in the story.

Make it make sense and stop tagging your toxic bullshit with my ship! There are so few Canarrow fics out there don't throw your anti-fics in there I don't want to see those toxic ships under my happy tag.

I think I'm done now.

And where are my fellow Canarrow writers at? I sort of want to go through with "there can't be a none Canarrow ship at the top of the Canarrow tag" but I'm one person, my muse is flakey and given the amount of Avalance and Olicity people that are currently falsely tagging their fics Canarrow I will not be able to do that.

Wow this post just turned into something entirely different.

Anyway... I hope everyone has a great day.

[johnvenus]

TIL That Count Vertigo Was Originally A Black Canary Villain...

...and later an enemy for Batman and afterwards became a primary antagonist for Green Arrow/Oliver Queen.   Also his cape was a homage to Steve Ditko and the latter’s work on Marvel’s Dr Strange.   

3 scans from World’s Finest #251 which shows the first appearance of Count Vertigo with art by the massively talented but underrated Trevor Von Eden with story by Gerry Conway.  

[emisirrelevant]

The Flash 9x09

Short random thought post about the episode. AHHHH! Okay so I didn't really get into Green Arrow or The Flash from the beginning, but I kinda got pulled in by the characters- tbh that's how I get into shows now, I see a character I like, and then I see if it's worth the plot, lol. ANYWAY though, it was really nice to see Oliver and Barry together for a final? (honestly idk anymore lol) time. When Diggle showed Barry the bow- and then when Oliver and Barry hugged- their banter- Stephen and Grant just have a dynamic that I like to watch.

Idk how I felt about the explanation behind how they were able to bring Oliver back, but what really got me was the ending of the episode. There were some references from Arrow that they included which I really liked. We got a bit of a Felicity mention.

AND THEN WE GOT MENTIONS ABOUT WILLIAM AND MIA??? AND THEN OLIVER SAYING "I'm keeping an eye on them" AH-

Okay but that leads me to why I made this post actually. Yes it was fun to see Oliver again, but what Diggle said about William specifically made go "huh"? So he mentions that William is in college. Last I remember- and if I'm remembering this correctly- he was kidnapped right? And then Mia goes looking for him in one of the crossover events-Armageddon I believe? But she doesn't find him, right?

SO my question is, what happened? Are there any theories out there? Like because there's now a multiverse again, did the kidnapping NOT happen? Or is it not a thing YET? Sigh. I'm not gonna bother myself too much with the Arrowverse and timelines. I just tried researching on what happened and I mostly found on Reddit that most people said it was setting up the spinoff that was supposed to happen so if it had been greenlit they would have explored it.

But where does this mention of William fit? I guess I could have just led with that from the beginning- but I am curious. Once again, my fandom nerd self has made what I thought would be a short post into another TLDR, lol.

Alright, that's enough from me for now though. At least it was reassuring for me personally to hear that Oliver keeps an eye on his kids. Love that. Well, until next time y'all.

[sadly-not-a-fictional-character]

olicity fandom, I NEED your help!! I've been dying to find an olicity fic, don't even know if any exists tho, that is a When Calls The Heart au. I've been searching on ao3 and tumblr and googling it too, but didn't find any. If anyone knows a fic that has at least a similar au, please let me know. I really, really want to read something similar cause Felicity would be amazing as Elizabeth Thatcher 😭

[ladywhistlewrites]

chapter 1: The very first morning

As the fresh morning air made its way into her room, caressing her skin, the young lady Y/N was fast out of bed, pacing around her chamber. This was the day. This was the day her parents had prepared her for so diligently, the day she had prepared for so fervently. At noon, she would be officially introduced to society as an eligible young lady. Eligible for marriage, of course.

She swiftly looked at herself in the mirror of her nightstand, almost seeking something in her own reflection. “There must be a way to escape Her Majesty today,” she thought as she started combing her hair with her fingers. Was marriage truly a woman’s only calling? Was playing the piano, singing, and being a polite, flawless young lady all that life held for her? These thoughts roamed in her young mind ever since she was a child.

Surely, a woman should marry and have children if she wished so, but what if she wished for something else? What if she wished to go off to Oxford as her brothers did? Y/N was torn between what her parents wished, almost demanded, for her life and what she desired.

As she was lost in her thoughts, a soft knock came from her door. “Good morning, miss,” a giddy voice said. Y/N turned around and found Miss Olive’s smiling face. “Good morning, Olive,” she said with a smile. Miss Olive was a young girl herself, no more than six-and-twenty years of age, with a kind face and lively eyes. She had become Y/N’s lady’s maid quite recently, but she had shown herself to be a true confidant many times, as well as a very good maid indeed.

“Are you excited for today, Miss Y/N?” Olive asked, her eyes sparkling with genuine interest.

Y/N gave a small laugh. “Excited? Perhaps nervous is a better word. I am to be paraded in front of all of London society and judged suitable or not for marriage by the Queen herself. How could one be anything but nervous?”

Olive’s smile softened with understanding. “You will do wonderfully, miss. You have a grace and charm about you that no one can deny. Besides, this is just the beginning. Who knows what the season holds?”

Y/N appreciated Olive’s optimism but could not shake off the feeling of apprehension. She had seen how the season could make or break a young lady’s prospects. It was a game, a matchmaking game, and she was expected to play her part. But Y/N had always wondered if she could be more than just a pawn. Could she be the protagonist of her own story, taking the reins of her own destiny? Or perhaps she would breathe the air of libertinism and embrace the changing times?

As the morning progressed, Y/N was dressed in her finest gown, a delicate creation of lavender silk with lace trim that complemented her fair complexion. Her hair was styled in an intricate updo, adorned with tiny pearls that caught the light. She looked every bit the baroness she was born to be, yet her heart yearned for something more.

“Miss Y/N,” Olive said softly as she adjusted the final pin in her hair, “remember that today is just the beginning. You have the power to shape your own destiny. Do not let anyone dictate your path.”

Y/N looked at her maid and confidante with gratitude. “Thank you, Olive. I will try to remember that.”

With a deep breath, Y/N descended the grand staircase of her family’s townhouse, where her parents awaited her. Her father, a stern yet proud man, gave her an approving nod. Her mother, ever the epitome of grace, took her hand and squeezed it gently. “You look beautiful, my dear. Today, you will captivate the Queen and all of London.”

Y/N smiled, though it felt more like a mask. “Thank you, Mother.”

As they made their way to the carriage that would take them to Buckingham House, Y/N felt a flutter of anticipation mixed with dread. This was her moment, the beginning of her season.

The bustling streets of London passed by in a blur as Y/N contemplated her future. The carriage came to a halt, and she was helped down by a footman. The grand entrance of Buckingham House loomed before her, a symbol of the society she was about to enter.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N stepped forward, ready to face whatever the day would bring. This was her debut, her introduction to the world. And in that moment, she resolved that no matter what happened, she would remain true to herself.

As the grand doors opened and the sound of polite conversation and laughter filled her ears, Y/N lifted her chin and entered the hall. The eyes of the elite were upon her, and somewhere in the crowd, the Queen awaited her presence.

Would she captivate the Queen with her kindness, wit, and grace? Only time would tell. But one thing was certain: Y/N was determined to make this season her own, to write her own story, and to find her own path in a world that expected her to conform.

With every step she took, Y/N felt a growing sense of empowerment. This was her season, her story, and she would make it unforgettable.

******

author’s note:

first chapter officially out!! see you next Friday!

[fanfic-writer-and-rambler]

Inspired by Class of 09 mostly cause I feel like Jason would ride or die for Roy.

Dick Grayson: Jason, I've been wondering something, Oliver Queen seems to... Really hate you. Why?

Jason: We... We didn't have the best meet up when I became friends with Roy.

Dick sits down: All right, tell me.

Jason: Okay... It's a really funny story, you gonna laugh.

Dick, already prepared for the worse: Oh no.

Flash back (inspired by Class of 09):

Roy: You think that cop bought our story?

Jason: Yeah... Maybe. I'll be right back I have to do this.

Roy watches as Jason walks over to a tilted painting in Oliver Queen's house.

Roy: What are you doing?

Jason Todd, looking at a framed picture of a flower: I can't deal with painting being crooked.

Jason aligns the frame.

Roy laughs. He jolts when his former partner and father figure storms out of his room, Oliver Queen.

Oliver Queen: Where have you been?

Roy Harper: I don't know are you a cop now?

Jason walks over.

Jason Todd: Roy, why's this asshole yelling at you?

Oliver: And who's this?

Roy: My… new friend.

Jason: We were at the mall by the way, so you can stop grilling Roy.

Oliver: So I'm supposed to believe you and this guy were at the mall all night?

Roy: What do you mean all night? We were there for like what... two or three hours?

Jason, looking around: Yeah two and a half like the show.

Oliver: It's 1 in the morning!

Jason: Damn we hung out with that guy that long?

Oliver: What guy?

Roy, nervous: Nobody.

Oliver: What guy, Roy?

Roy: Nobody!

Oliver: Tell me!

Roy frustrated: Oh my God.

Oliver: Tell me or your friend has to go home!

Jason, amused: Cool an ultimatum.

Roy: You really want to know?

Oliver: Yes what guy was this?

Roy, angey: The crackhead in front of the mall we sold weed to!

Oliver: Where did you even get- Oh you're so stupid!

Roy: Oh so you hate homeless people too?!

Oliver: Dealing drugs in public- dealing drugs in general… it doesn’t matter if you sold them to get rid of them! How can you be so idiotic?!

Jason, irritated at the blonde rich man yelling at his friend: It was actually kind of smart.

Oliver, rude: Excuse me?

Jason: You better fix your fucking tone with me before I slash your tires!

Oliver: Who are you talking to!?

Jason: I'm talking to you, Green Arrow!

Oliver: How did you-

Roy: So funny story-

Oliver: Did you sell him crack or heroin? Did you tell him who I was for that smack, Roy!

Roy, rubbing his arm ashamed at his past: ...

Jason: Who says 'smack’, you 1950s gangster! And we sold weed to a crackhead because what would a crackhead want with weed? Cops won't expect that shit! It's genius!

Oliver: Genius, really?!

Jason: Yeah and he's been sober for a fucking year! So lay off him! We sold the weed because we had it left over from a mission! A mission you weren't on! What did you want? For us to keep it? That’s dumb! We did a business deal and got rid of evidence. You should be thankful we don’t have it!

Roy: Yeah, so... why don't you shut the fuck up?!

Oliver: What if I have you arrested? You'll be able to walk since your plan is so bulletproof!

Roy: No, wait, don’t do that!

Jason: Go the fuck ahead asshole they'll believe us because we're young and you're old and dried up.

Oliver: That's it, I don't want you hanging out with him anymore!

Jason: He can hang out with whoever the fuck he wants bitch! So why don't you go to your room, pour your little Cognac, watch M.A.S.H and shut the fuck up!

Oliver, bursting into tears: I can't believe you!

Oliver runs off.

Jason: God that felt good. Wish I could say that to my dad.

Roy: Why don't you?

Jason: He'll probably write me out of the will.

Roy: Wow, huh... I think you broke him so yeah, I get that.

Jason: I did... Awesome.

Roy: Honestly, I appreciate that, but we should leave. He's going to be sobbing for a while.

Jason: And watching M.A.S.H?

Roy: ... It's not on tonight.

End of flashback

Jason: Man that was crazy times. Guess he hasn't forgotten about it.

Jason sighs happily.

Dick: Hm... You have to realize how that wasn't okay.

Jason: Yes, but I helped Roy when he was struggling and got that Oliver prick to get off his case. I am such a good person, you know?

Dick, chuckling: I don't disagree. At least you're not the only one Oliver dislikes.

Jason: Who else does he hate?

Dick: Bruce. Long story.

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for J behind the cut; Jason gets knocked up and accidentally goes home about it. Full disclosure, I took a lot longer than I should've finishing these 'cuz I was trying to use them to stitch together previous scenes and finish the whole fic. I did NOT manage that, but I did realize I'd written a lot more than I'd intended to, so I decided "fuck it" and just wrote another chunk of sentences to actually give J what I owed them, hah. ( chrono || non-chrono )

Then Alpha steps into view too, Alpha’s mate right behind him, and Jason forgets everything else and purrs. 

Alpha’s home. Alpha came this time. 

Alpha came for him this time. 

That’s all he ever wanted him to do. 

Alpha stares. He looks around the room just briefly, because it’s Alpha so of course he does–but then he stares. 

“Jason?” he says, and Jason purrs louder. 

Alpha came. 

“He’s, you know–definitely feral-brained right now, obviously,” Little Brother says, gesturing sheepishly. Jason wonders who he’s talking about, idly, but isn’t really worried about it. “Kinda just showed up and let himself in, and then, uh . . . well, he’s, uh, presented to Alfred and Dick so far and been teaching Damian how to nest, so . . .” 

“He did?” Alpha’s voice sounds a little–choked, maybe. Jason wonders why. 

He’s still over in the doorway, for some reason. Jason wonders why that’s a thing too. 

Alpha should know he’s allowed in the room, after all. 

“Alpha,” he hums, loosening his grip on Pup Brother just enough to half-reach for Alpha. What’s taking him so long over there, anyway?

It’s dumb. 

“Jaylad,” Alpha says tightly, half-taking a step forward and then–stopping, for some reason, just outside the doorway. Gripping one side of it, but not coming through it. 

Dumb, Jason thinks, and furrows his brow impatiently. 

“Alpha,” he insists, smacking the side of the nest once. 

Really, really dumb. 

“He accepted clothes with your scent, so . . .” Big Brother trails off. 

“And a blanket with it, as well,” Grandpa puts in. “One he used on a foundational layer of the nest.” 

“Ah,” Alpha says roughly, tightening his grip on the doorframe. 

“Don’t hover, Father, Todd clearly expects your presence,” Pup Brother says in exasperation, which is much more useful. Jason purrs appreciatively and nuzzles him, and Pup Brother sighs in aggravation, but doesn’t try to squirm away or anything. 

Good, Jason thinks, and nuzzles him harder. 

Pup Brother rolls his eyes and sighs. 

Alpha finally steps into the room, which is a start. Jason reaches towards him again with another, deeper purr. 

Alpha . . . swallows, visibly, and then comes over to the nest; kneels down outside it beside Big Brother. 

Close enough, Jason figures lazily, and catches Alpha’s wrist to drag his hand to his own stomach. He’s not wearing body armor, but it’s fine. It’s Alpha. 

It’s . . . 

“Present, Dad,” he hums, letting his eyes close. 

Alpha makes a very tight noise, and his hand presses in very, very gently against Jason’s stomach. And the pup, obviously. 

“Jaylad,” Alpha says, cracked and hoarse. Jason hums back contentedly, squeezing Alpha’s wrist once. 

Good. That’s everybody, then. 

Good, yeah. 

“Who’s the sire?” Alpha’s mate asks curiously from the doorway, leaning against the frame. She hasn’t come in yet. Jason should probably tell her it’s fine, but he’s a little . . . distracted, maybe. Distracted. Yeah. 

Mmm. 

“He says either Kori or Roy, so we’re not technically sure, but the suspect list is pretty short,” Big Brother says, and Alpha’s mate laughs. 

“Could be both,” she points out teasingly. “Up for double grandkittens, Bruce?” 

“More concerned about the risk of having Oliver Queen for an in-law, thanks,” Alpha says dryly, letting out a rough little noise that isn’t quite a laugh and curling his fingers gently against Jason’s stomach. 

“Jason might’ve mentioned they offered to mate him, so yeah, that’s a concern,” Big Brother confirms with a laugh of his own. “But Kori and Roy definitely don’t know about the pup yet. Even if he managed to slip ‘em, there’s no way I wouldn’t have heard from either of them if they were trying to find him while they knew he was bred.” 

Jason huffs, because what does Big Brother mean “managed” to slip them? He could absolutely lose them whenever and wherever he felt like it. And anyway, he texted them earlier. So it’s not like they don’t know where he is. 

. . . or have extrapolated where he is, anyway. But whatever, same difference. 

“Ah,” Alpha says again, and swallows again too. Jason rolls his head back enough to peer up at him a little closer, not really sure what’s going on with him. Hm. 

Well. He’s here. That’s all that really matters, really. 

Except . . . 

“Alpha?” he says again, not sure if . . . Alpha hasn’t taken his hand off his stomach, but he doesn’t seem–happy, really. Or pleased. Or . . . anything like that. 

Jason’s not . . . sure, exactly. 

Alpha’s hand presses in a little firmer against Jason’s stomach. Not too firm–not too much. But like . . . comfortably firm. If that makes sense, or whatever. 

It feels nice, and Jason relaxes a little. Okay. That’s–better, he thinks. Right? 

Alpha’s here, so . . . it’s better, yeah. 

And it means he’s doing alright. He’s being a good omega. He brought home a good pup to present to the pack–good pups, maybe, if he’s lucky. Alpha will like that, right? If it’s more than one pup? 

Any pup would be good, he thinks. Kori and Roy are both good sires. Lian’s great, for one. And Roy and Kori are great too. Just–definitely, yes. They’re gonna be such a good pup. 

Even with–him in them, they’ll be a good pup. 

He thinks so, anyway. They’ll have . . . better things than he did. They’ll be safer. 

Won’t ever end up alone in an alley without a pack or alone on a warehouse floor with no backup coming. 

Won’t ever doubt who actually loves them. 

Alpha makes a strange, choked noise. Jason doesn’t know why, really. Someone’s purring really loud, but he doesn’t know who it is. Not Pup Brother, and there aren’t any other omegas in the pack, so . . . 

Hm. Weird, yeah. 

Well, everyone’s here, so he’s not worried about it anyway. 

He’s being a good omega, and he brought his pup home to present. Grandpa and Big Brother were happy about it, and everybody else is here and settled in and safe. That’s all that matters, really. 

As long as Alpha’s happy about the pup too, anyway. And Alpha’s hand is still on his stomach, and Alpha’s still next to the nest, so . . . yeah. That means he is, right? 

So it’s good. Yeah. 

The purring gets louder. Jason nuzzles Pup Brother’s hair and melts under Alpha’s hand and in Quiet Sister’s arms. 

It’s definitely good. 

Nice. 

“Jason,” Alpha says tightly, and Jason cracks an eye open to look at him again. He doesn’t really remember when he closed them, but it’s not really important or anything.

Alpha has a hand half-over his face, and his head’s ducked down. Jason blinks sleepily, tilting his head to peer up at him again, but he can’t see his expression, really. He squeezes the hand he has around Alpha’s wrist; a little bit absent, a little bit like a reflex. 

He missed Alpha so much. 

The purring’s gotten really loud.

[jupiter-letters]

Dating Oliver Queen would include:

Fem!Reader or GN!Reader TW: Suggestive content

A/N: There is not enough oliver queen fics on the internet like this man is so fine. 😩😩😩 You guys need to wake up and appreciate him I'm so serious. This is gonna be based off comic/jlu oliver since I don't rock with the live action one. We don't like live action counter parts in these parts.

In the beginning it doesn't take much for him to work up the courage to ask you out. You weren't having it at first given his reputation, all the girls and boys couldn't get enough of Oliver Queen. This inital skepticism in his motives leads to him trying to win you over, aka impressing you. This results in a cute little back and forth with you two. Him going bigger and bigger with his gestures and you shaking your head amused at his antics. You do cave eventually seeing how far he'll go to get your attention.

You can't go on missions with him at all. At first he's taking everything as seriously as he's supposed to but, the last half he's fooling around.

God forbid it's a stakeout, yeah you both need to keep a look out but he just wants to kiss you for 5 minutes that's all. He teases you about it too he's so annoying. He'll get real close when you're looking out your binoculars and whisper in your ear, "Come on honey you know you wanna kiss me." wink wink nudge nudge. Of course you end up making out on a rooftop only stopping when an explosion goes off in the distance.

He loves taking you on trips, spoiling you in general. Even if you insist you don't need anything he just likes giving you stuff. You need new headphones? Got it. You need a new car, say no more he's got it.

When things get difficult he likes to try to joke just to see you smile, or elevate some tension. Oliver isn't the type of guy to do nothing when his partner is feeling down. He at his core is very proactive, if the jokes don't work he'll make your favorite drink or take you for a drive.

If you are a superhero/vigilante, he makes sure he gets paired up with you so he can have your back. Powers or no powers he doesn't want you to go alone. If you're a civilian, he checks in on you during missions. He could be mid-fight and call you about how your day was. "So....What are you wearing?" SMASH! CRASH! SHATTER! "Hang on one sec honey!" When he does get injured he tries to play it off like it's not as bad as it actually is. He'll melt when you take of his injuries, he'll never be quieter than when you do that.

He really doesn't like to sleep without you, some nights he gets nightmares about being back on the island. You're always there to comfort him after, being able to hold you when you both sleep is very grounding for him. Being able to wake up next to you is best part of his day, he likes to sneak off while you're sleeping and make pancakes.

Having to go with him undercover to gather intel, he going to have a very hard time concentrating when you get dressed up. He's having a conversation with Bruce and Dick when you walk in. As soon as you come into his view his mind goes blank for a moment. Dick has to snap his fingers in front of Oliver's face to bring him back to Earth. He CANNOT be away from you all night after that, of course you get the info you need but he won't stop complimenting you.

"Yeah I agree with you gorgeous." "Of course beautiful, duly noted." "Creeps like that aren't coming anywhere near you pretty." "You might be too smart for me good-looking." "I can't wait to get out of here you look stunning tonight."

He is your biggest fan, when he wants to make a decision he asks for your input. In the watchtower and the hall of justice, during mission briefings he makes sure you can voice your opinion uninterrupted. He'll even buy merch of your superhero logo, you might walk into his mansion and see him wearing a shirt with your logo on it. Oliver may even get you a green arrow shirt and look at you like this 🥺🥺 to get you to wear it.

Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think. Please like or reblog if you like my stuff.

[mangoshorthand]

Love your fics so much good lord 🫶🏻 especially your latest smut one. Which made me remember how S3 had some kinda unnecessary sex jokes.. like when Klaus told Five about Lila and Diego doing it one the stairs and Five said yeah I get it everybody was banging everybody last night 😭 kinda had to imagine Five and his wife drinking and spending the night together as well and getting the love he deserves. Not sure if its a smut request you’re interested in but i loved the wedding episode.

Awh- thanks. You're a sweetie! ❤️ I stuck a little twist on this one- I hope that's ok! I have a quirk as an author in that I don't like to explicitly contradict canon plus I would like Five to be physically 18+ canonically when I write about him. We have fluff and mild, romantic smut. Schmaltzier than I'd usually produce, but we all need a little schmaltz now and again.

If Tonight Was Our Last | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader 2.4k words, Rated M

All in all, Diego and Lila’s wedding had been like them: informal, loud and chaotic. The ceremony part was executed in the courthouse as quick as humanly possible in order to get to the important part: dancing and partying in the punk nightclub they’d hired for the evening. 

Five hovered awkwardly by the bar. He was wearing what, on reflection, was an entirely inappropriate tuxedo and was becoming uncomfortably sweaty. He watched the crowd dancing to The Sex Pistols, Lila jumping and headbanging with a crazed look in her eye and Diego drinking shot after shot with Luther. He himself ordered a martini and was stirring it with his olive awkwardly, wondering when he could justify leaving. 

There was a joy in being part of this family that Five didn’t always appreciate: it presented him countless opportunities to exercise his brain with a conundrum. He knew that spending over forty years in the apocalypse was preferable to both, but whether Lila and Diego's wedding was worse than Luther and Sloane’s, he couldn’t yet decide. 

But when his eyes found you, screaming along with Johnny Rotten about how the queen of England wasn’t a human being, he knew that this sweaty, musty club was the only place in the world he’d choose to be right now. You caught his eye, face lighting up and worked your way across the dancefloor towards him. On the way, you stole a tequila slammer off the tray beside Luther and presented it to Five. 

Before you pulled him onto the dancefloor with you, he knocked back the shot and chased it with his remaining half martini. Perhaps it was the booze or maybe your hyperactive vibes were infectious, because Five let loose and spent the rest of the night dancing along with The Clash.  He got bashed and buffeted by the crowd and his siblings. Since then, Five had drunk heavily. Even if he had a slow start, he more than caught up with the rest of you. 

He kissed you several times throughout the evening, when his adrenaline was high and the music pumped with it through his veins. The kisses were hard, boisterous and joy-filled. Once, he lifted you off your feet with the force of it, earning him a small shove from Diego for ‘lowering the tone of the evening’. 

Viktor, the only one of you who stayed sober enough to be responsible, had shepherded first Lila and Diego to their hotel room, and then everyone else back to the Academy. He left you and Five still drinking in one of the lesser-used sitting rooms that was occupied by Reginald in years gone by.

A large order of fries and the journey home had sobered you up, but Five’s hand swayed as he tried to pour a glass of his father’s cognac, spilling it all over the side table.

“Ah shit. That was Hennesy,” he murmured, regretfully, wiping it up with a bar towel. He’d already discarded his jacket and now his hand fumbled at his bow tie, removing it and tucking into his pants pocket.

“You shouldn’t have any more,” you said, from the armchair. Your voice was slightly hoarse from having to shout to be heard all night, “you’ve been drinking like it’s your last night on earth.”

Five returned to the handsome chaise lounge with the little drink he’d managed to successfully pour, laughing softly.

“No I haven’t. That was the last wedding I went to.”

“Luther and Sloane’s?” you asked, tentatively. 

Five nodded. 

He didn’t like to talk about it often. The period following his return to 2019 was a chaotic tumble through timelines and apocalypses. You knew Luther and Sloane got married under the impression that they would all die the next day, but you hadn’t ever asked Five for details. Tonight, however, he seemed open to it. 

“When you got twenty-four to forty-eight hours left to live,” he said, laughing reminiscently,  “there’s no point in holding back.

I sorta remember making this…punch out of vodka, gin, coconut rum and god knows what else. I drank the whole bowl," he laughed, "Well, wouldn’t you? ” he asked, catching your disapproving eye.

You rocked your head from side to side, weighing it up.

“Probably,” you admitted, “I just don’t like to think about it. As it turned out, you all survived anyway. But that would have been no good if you died from alcohol poisoning.”

He took your hand in the gap between the two pieces of furniture. 

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t, but right then it seemed like a good option.”

You caught his eyes, deep tonight, and saw that he wasn’t as drunk as you thought. His lips twitched into a sad smile as he continued.

“I guess I had nothing else to do. They were all pairing off: Luther and Sloane, Lila and Diego, Klaus and alternate Ben-” he caught your expression and amended himself, “-I don’t mean boning, necessarily…” and then he looked nauseated, “oh god, I really hope not, anyway.”

“You’re a weird family,” you said, matter-of-factly.

“That we are.” he agreed, “At least four of them were going at it, anyway, and there I was trapped in the body of an extra from Bugsy Malone: hormonal, horny as hell and living the last few hours of my life. What is a self-respecting guy supposed to do?”

“Drink and jerk off?”

“Drink and jerk off, correct. You know me so well.”

You smiled, leaned over and poured yourself a small cognac.

“Sounds lonely for your last night on earth.”

He shrugged, reciprocating your raised glass to him before you took a sip. The honey-smelling warmth of the cognac went down nice and easy, even after the tequila and fries.

Five looked into his drink.

“What would you do?” he said, almost too quietly to hear, “on your last night on earth, I mean.”

You don’t hesitate, “I’d spend it with you.”

He smiled down into his glass. It’s one of his arrogant smiles masking the real emotion beneath.

“Of course you would.”

You could always tell when he was hiding emotion by the spots of  delicate color he developed high in his cheeks.

“And what about you?” you asked, gently.

He considered, the smile still playing around his lips.

“I’d probably drink and jerk off.”

You laughed and stretched out in the chair, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling of being there with him. After a quiet minute, his voice sounded again.

smut below cut

“I’d make love to you.”

You turned your head to look at him, still starting into his drink. It’s not a term you’d ever heard him use before. In day-to-day conversation, he referred to sex as ‘boning’, ‘banging’ or occasionally used a trite metaphor like ‘making the beast with two backs.’ Even in the throes of passion, you’d only ever heard him say that he wanted to ‘fuck’ you.

He looked at you, eyes speaking a depth of feeling you hoped you would never be able to fully share. The look in his eyes brought home the weight of what he was saying: Five knew what it was to face the end of everything. He was saying this with that experience behind him. 

“If tonight was our last, I’d want you to know what you mean to me…except words can be blunt instruments, so I’d want to show you…”

He trailed off.

You put down your drink and, drawn like a magnet to his bared vulnerability, joined him on the couch. Eyes not leaving this, you raised your hand to cup his face. As he closed his eyes, you kissed him on the corner of his mouth, hoping that the touch of your lips against him conveyed what you were feeling. 

With his eyes still closed, he leaned into your touch almost wearily, rubbing his cheek against your hand and letting out a long breath through his nose.

“Show me now,” you whispered, “as if tonight was our last night.”

Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, and he fixed you with his unwavering gaze. Though the room was dimly lit, what little light there was reflected in his eyes. Without another word, he leaned in and pressed his mouth to yours in a soft, tender kiss. His warm lips brushed yours, feather-light. You responded to him eagerly, meeting his affection with your own and wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. 

He deepened the kiss, hands beginning to roam. He caressed you, palms exploring the contours of your body; the landscape of hills and valleys. Though he’d done this countless times before, his touch felt somehow new: sending trembling, fluttering energy across your body. His breath was sweet, tasting of the cognac: you felt and savored the warmth of his mouth on yours 

As the kiss reached its peak, you felt a rush of emotion you hadn’t expected: though he was gentle, cherishing and loving, you could nevertheless feel a flavor of desperation behind this kiss. It was as if this really was it; as if tonight really was the last night. He was right: words weren’t enough, and this was the most important thing you and he would ever say to each other. 

His fingers became more urgent, slipping beneath your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin beneath. You raised your arms and he lifted it carefully over your head, unable to resist leaning in and peppering your newly exposed skin with kisses before he fully removed it.

Meanwhile, one of your hands popped open the buttons of his shirt while the other traced the lines of his chest and pectorals. When his stomach was revealed, you pulled the fabric apart and snaked both hands in, reveling in his warmth and the soft smattering of hair disappearing into his pants.

Your hands moved in unison, undressing each other with sensual eagerness: not too fast, not too slow, only keen to feel each new inch of flesh as it was exposed. As he reached around to unhook your bra, you worked on freeing him from his pants. You could already feel the arousal beneath. 

Before you could remove the fabric around him, he leaned in and captured your newly bared nipple, gently licking and sucking on it. You couldn’t help but moan, even despite the necessity of keeping your voice low. His hand came to rub and softly press your other breast, feeling your shape in the palm of his hand. 

At last, you pulled him from his pants, stroking his shaft gently and feeling him grow even harder at your touch. His breath stuttered around your breast. 

At last, you sat beside each other naked. His kisses felt like moths’ wings across your breasts, your collarbone, your neck. He leaned towards you, urging you gently backwards until your back hit the velvet of the chaise. You pulled him to you and kissed him again, caressing his lips with your own. When he pulled back, you were surprised to see tears pricking the corner of his eyes. 

When he spoke, looking at you with those earnest, sad eyes, it was in a whisper. You had the sense that he didn’t trust his voice any louder.

“If tonight were our last night, I’d want to kiss you like that.”

You stroked his face again and he briefly closed his eyes, one of the tears forming into a drop and running slowly down his cheek. When he opened them, he shifted his kneeling position and you spread your thighs to accommodate him. 

“What else would you do?” you asked, your own voice not much more than a whisper. 

He lowered himself so that your bodies were pressed together, skin on skin and warmth on warmth. 

“I’d want you like this,” he said, “I’d want to be inside you.”

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him gently to you and entwining your body with his. He entered you slowly and you let out identical exhales. It was a feeling like coming home after a long day. Five gave a pleasurable wince as the clenching of your walls had its effect on him: perfect intensity.

As he moved in you, as you moved together, every caress was a whispered affirmation of love; every twinge of pleasure a promise kept. Each of his slow, sensual thrusts was a pledge of undying devotion. The slow build of your orgasm was a life of love and loyalty spent together.

He buried his head in your neck, simultaneously breathing you in and hiding his tears. Your arms wrapped themselves over his back, your hand finding the back of his head and holding him safely to you as, inside you, the twin heats of love and of pleasure bloomed.

“I’ve got you, baby.” you whispered, inhaling the clean smell of his hair. 

With your arms and legs wrapped around him this way, you met his hips with your own, giving him the same promises he gave to you. You kissed his temple, wrapping yourself around him more snugly. Wrapped in the warmth of your shared love, your bodies writhed together. From his stuttering breath and increasing tension, you could tell he was nearing his peak. You could feel his heart beating against your chest like that of a small animal. 

He gave an ecstatic cry and exploded inside you, body shuddering in the current of his release. As he came, he kissed and licked at your neck, unrefined and uncontrolled but desperate to taste some part of you. Finally, he collapsed onto the couch, his full weight upon you, trying to catch his breath in short gasps. 

“If tonight was our last night,” he mumbled, after a few moments to compose himself, “I’d want to savor it. I'd hope not to come after two minutes like that.”

You smiled into his hair.

“Lucky tonight isn’t our last night,” you said. 

Responding to the pang of shame in his voice, however, you continued more seriously.

“If tonight was our last night, I’d die happy after that. No, really,” you said, responding to his disbelieving snort, “that was…”

You didn’t need to finish. The awe and love in your tone was enough of a balm.

You could lie here forever with his warm weight on top of you, your bodies still connected with him still inside you. You could be happy here, with his breath in your ear and your hand in his hair. If tonight was your last night, you would have lived a whole lifetime in it.

Request Masterlist >> HERE

NOTE: I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See masterlist for request status and more.

[dc-comics-enjoyer]

Can we appreciate this man ?

OLIVER QUEEN in LEGENDS OF THE DC UNIVERSE (1998) #8

[jooeeydee]

Oliver got so much hate for not wanting Laurel to take on Sara’s mantle and join his team. I always felt it was unfair and rubbed me the wrong way. 

I really wish people would try to look at his perspective from time to time. He was under the firm impression that the life he choose, as a vigilante, would eventually lead to his death, just like it had led to Sara’s death. So why would he want Laurel to join that same bleak fate? 

He even told Quentin: „I  didn’t want anyone to be involved in this.“ Because he didn’t want anyone he cared about to share what he felt was his inevitable fate, which is an early, probably very painful death.

Plus also, I imagine having Laurel step into her sister’s footsteps and trying to be like her might have been like pouring salt into an open wound. She was a constant reminder of Sara’s death and in Oliver’s eyes his failure to save her. Even if there was nothing he could’ve done to prevent her from being killed, he’d still feel responsible for it. I can’t even imagine what it must have felt like to him. Having Laurel sort of parade around in Sara’s clothes, taking credit for her accomplishments and acting as if she were Sara. 

It’s actually kinda ironic now that I think about it. Laurel accused Sara of stealing her whole life… flash-forward less than a year and Laurel pretty much stole Sara’s whole life. Wow, the hypocrisy in this show is mind-blowing, and the fandom just going along with it and not realizing how hypocritical they are with some of their claims… sorry, got a little off track here, but I just thought it was important to mention.

Oliver also knew, the last thing Sara would’ve wanted was for Laurel to put on her mask. Sara would’ve never wanted her sister to follow her into the darkness and Oliver knew that. Given the fact that she told him shortly before she was killed that they needed people in their lives that didn’t wear masks.

I could go on forever, honestly, I just feel really strongly about this. And anything really when I feel Oliver had been done wrong and people just hate on him without ever considering his point of view. Even more so if people in the same breath also do Sara wrong. 

[aangelinakii]

JUSTICE LEAGUE LOVE LANGUAGES.

characters written about in this piece : clark kent, diana prince, barry allen, oliver queen, dinah lance

not proofread !

note : i was gonna include hal and arthur curry but i decided it would kindaa be a lot, so i narrowed it down to my favs 😙 if you're looking for bruce, bc he's quite obviously missing, you can find his here with the rest of the batfam :)))

CLARK KENT — acts of service

clark is just a big ol lover boy who wants to make sure his significant other is happy at all times, and he wants to show his adoration by helping them out here and there, and making sure they feel more than loved. he will be more than happy to do something for you if you ask, but he prefers surprising you with little things instead, because part of the reason this is his love language is seeing your reaction. but a fundamental part to being in a relationship with clark, is that these acts also need to be reciprocated. i feel like he may have a slightly lower self esteem than expected, so if he doesn't receive kind acts, then he may become insecure.

ways he likes to show his love : delivering your favourite lunch while you're at work , walking your dog , brewing you a warm cup of your choice in the morning , cleans your shared apartment for when you return from work or a weekend away

ways of showing love that he appreciates : cooking his favourite meals , shoot him a call or text when going grocery shopping to ask if he wants anything , caring for him when he's sick , opening his car door (even though he will tell you not to, but will secretly be loving it the whole time)

DIANA PRINCE — quality time

she came from a community that wasn't explicitly affectionate in a sappy way, so i think she has partly internalised that. that isn't to say that she can never ever be sweet, because of course she can, but i think she's more comfortable having her own space, whilst still being with you. like, i don't think she's big on physical affection. i don't think anything traumatic happened, i think it's just a preference, and partly because she knows she's a killing machine, so she wants to be careful, treat you with fragility. after a long day, she feels as though there is nothing better than to wind down beside her lover.

favourite ways to spend quality time : you tending to her wounds , going for walks or exercising together , museum trips where she tells you the truth about all the ancient artefacts , going on grocery runs together , laying in bed and talking about your days

BARRY ALLEN — physical affection

i think barry is similar to how i described wally in the young justice one, but like more mature. like he is better at understanding boundaries than wally, and certainly more romantic. despite being the flash, barry's a slow guy. he loves slow, lives slow. he doesn't rush romance, or force anything. his touches are soft and deliberate. barry's a sweet guy, and an especially sweet lover. he sees a warm hug as the perfect way to end a long, harsh, dirty day, and to keep his work as the flash separate from his home life.

favourite forms of physical affection : fixing hair or brushing it behind ears , bathing together and washing one another , wrapping his arms around your waist whilst you cook , pressing soft kisses to temples

OLIVER QUEEN — physical affection && words of affirmation

ollie is an all-rounder when it comes to his love languages and ways of showing love; he's great in all aspects. but i'd say his favourite ways of showing his affection would be through both touch, and telling you how he feels about you through words. he's great at reassuring you as he always sounds genuine. never a tinge of sarcasm or condescend. and his touch alone is reassuring. when he holds you, he holds you tight and long – forever, if he could. i think he invests a lot into a relationship, although it may not be inherently obvious. by this i mean, within himself he finds the relationship incredibly important, but doesn't exactly let you know how much he has going for it. he thinks about the future all the time, but doesn't talk about his dreams in fear of scaring you away, so stays silent. are you with me?

favourite forms of physical affection : laying in bed or on the couch, looping an arm around you as you lay on his chest , piggybacks when you're tired , taking your hand while he drives , kissing your knuckles

words he means : " i don't think you realise how much you mean to me. and you really mean so much " , " for you, i would do anything " , " i'm always so in awe of you " , " you're just so amazing "

DINAH LANCE — words of affirmation && acts of service

anybody would be lucky to have dinah as a lover. she's passionate and deliberate, and can read your needs like a book. she's incredibly attentive, and always makes sure your needs are tended to. although i wouldn't say she's incredibly romantic, per se, through her words, they are comforting. like she's not the type to drown you in compliments, but the fact she waits for the right time makes them more meaningful when she does so. but when i say that she's a passionate lover, i truly mean that she takes her love for you in stride, and makes it her drive to live and survive each day.

words she means : " i am here for you " , " i'm so lucky to know you " , " you're my best friend, i hope you know that " , " i can't imagine my life without you "

ways she likes to show love : noticing when you're feeling down, and suggesting a way to cheer you up , brushing, combing, picking your hair, or just playing with it , buys extra of your favourite things to have in the house , not to brag but she would totally kill someone for you, or even build you a palace if you asked