Arrowverse Failed Them — The Multiverse Didn’t

I’m going to double down on my unpopular opinions.

If you’ve been here long enough, you already know: this blog does not do safe takes.

A few days ago I wrote about Overgirl — how her alternate version of Kara felt sharper, more layered, more emotionally compelling than canon Supergirl ever allowed her to be.

So today we’re taking it one step further.

Let’s talk about ships.

And yes — I am about to say something deeply controversial:

I was more emotionally invested in Dark Arrow and Overgirl than I ever was in Oliver’s or Kara’s canonical relationships.

Three episodes.

That’s all it took.

Kara’s Canon Love Life

I actually liked Kara and Mon-El. I did.

But looking back? Their ending didn’t elevate her character.

If the intention was to show that Kara doesn’t need a relationship to exist — that’s a strong narrative choice.

But then you have to give her growth in exchange.

Independence has to transform the character.

And it didn’t.

She remained fundamentally the same.

The breakup felt like sacrifice without narrative payoff.

And that’s frustrating.

Oliver’s Canon Love Life

Unpopular opinion number two: I never connected to Oliver and Felicity.

Not emotionally. Not structurally.

It always felt misaligned.

And in eight seasons of Arrow, it’s kind of astonishing that Oliver never had a relationship that felt both emotionally grounded and narratively inevitable.

Laurel didn’t fully work. Sara didn’t stabilize him. Nyssa was political. Felicity carried weight, yes — but for me, the chemistry never felt balanced.

Which makes what happened in the crossover even more baffling.

Three Episodes. That’s It.

Dark Arrow and Overgirl appear briefly.

They’re villains. They’re morally compromised. They belong to a nazist regime.

And yet — narratively — their dynamic works.

Why?

Because it’s built on emotional intensity.

He wages war across universes to save her. Not for conquest. Not for glory.

For her.

When she dies, he drops his guard. And he dies too.

It’s twisted. It’s dark. It’s dangerous.

But it’s emotionally coherent.

And the real shock?

Melissa Benoist and Stephen Amell had chemistry.

Not hypothetical chemistry.

Visible, on-screen, magnetic chemistry.

In three episodes, I felt more tension, more spark, more narrative charge than I did across years of separate canonical pairings.

And that’s not because I think Oliver and Kara would work in canon.

They wouldn’t.

They’re fundamentally incompatible in their original forms.

But that raises a bigger question:

Why did the alternate versions feel so emotionally effective, while eight and six seasons respectively struggled to give us relationships with that same spark?

The Arrowverse Comparison

In the Arrow–Flash–Supergirl trio, there was one couple that felt structurally solid:

Barry and Iris.

Iconic. Balanced. Aligned. Clark and Lois-level mythic energy.

You believed them.

Which proves the Arrowverse could build powerful relationships.

So why didn’t Oliver or Kara ever receive one that felt equally inevitable?

The Real Question

This isn’t about wanting Dark Arrow and Overgirl canonized.

It’s about narrative impact.

If a three-episode alternate-universe villain pairing can create more emotional resonance than years of main-character relationships…

That says something.

So I have to ask:

Did you truly love Oliver and Felicity? Were you fully invested in Kara and Mon-El?

Or did you ever, even for a second, look at Dark Arrow and Overgirl and think:

“…wait.”

And please — let’s leave Lena out of this one. That’s a different battlefield entirely.

Tell me honestly:

Two Roswells, One Michael & Maria — And the Version We Never Got

Being wildly unpopular might actually be my favorite sport at this point.

Every time I write something like this, I fully expect at least three people to be ready to fight me in the tags. But here’s the thing: I don’t write to be attacked. I write because I genuinely love open, honest, civil conversations. I like contrasting opinions. I just prefer them without digital pitchforks.

So.

Today’s Ship Scream is about Michael and Maria.

Both versions.

Yes. We’re doing this.

The Two Roswells

I watched both:

Roswell (1999–2002)

Roswell, New Mexico (2019–2022)

And yes, I liked both. They’re similar, but they feel very different — and you can feel the twenty-year gap between them.

Both are inspired by the Roswell High novels by Melinda Metz, though neither adaptation is fully faithful. I never read the books (they weren’t published in Italy), so my attachment is entirely television-based.

And in both shows, my ship was the same:

Michael Guerin and Maria DeLuca.

Roswell (1999): The Heat Wave That Started It All

Let’s start with the original.

Teenage Michael and Maria were pure enemies-to-lovers chaos.

The turning point? “Heat Wave” (1x09). The hormonal spike. The uncontrollable attraction. The kisses that didn’t stop. Maria hiding hickeys under a sleeveless turtleneck like it was peak Y2K drama.

That was iconic.

What I loved about them in the original Roswell was the tension. The friction. They were opposites. They clashed constantly. But the chemistry? Explosive.

Seasons 1 and 2 built them beautifully. Especially Season 2, which I still think is the show’s peak (Alex’s death, Tess’s arc — that was the emotional core).

But Season 3?

That’s where things fell apart.

The show struggled with post-high school storytelling. The energy shifted. Some character choices didn’t land (Isabel’s marriage to Jessie still confuses me). And Michael and Maria suffered from that instability.

They were living together. Stable. Settled.

But suddenly it felt like Michael was complacent while Maria wanted more — music, growth, independence.

And instead of deepening their maturity, the show kind of fumbled it.

By the finale, they reunite — but it feels rushed. Like boxes being checked to give everyone a happy ending.

So in the original:

I loved how they started.

I loved their teenage intensity.

I didn’t love how their adult arc was handled.

Roswell, New Mexico: The Mature Version… With Complications

Now we move to the reboot.

And here’s where I might lose some of you.

First: Michael being bisexual was not my issue.

Let me be very clear about that.

My discomfort wasn’t about sexuality. It was about narrative balance.

In Roswell, New Mexico, Michael’s relationship with Alex is deeply developed. Their high school history is emotional, layered, painful. I actually liked it. A lot.

Michael hiding his healed hand because Alex still sees him as injured? That’s beautiful storytelling.

But here’s the structural issue: Alex’s death in the original Roswell was foundational. It reshaped the group. It reshaped Isobel. It altered dynamics permanently.

In Roswell, Alex’s death fractures everything.

In Roswell, New Mexico, that role is replaced with Rosa (Liz’s sister). And while Rosa is interesting, she never quite carries the same emotional gravitational weight.

The ripple effects are different.

And that changes everything.

The Michael/Maria/Alex Triangle

Now we get to the part that really didn’t work for me.

The threesome scene.

I’m sorry. I know. I know.

But narratively? It felt like Michael trying to stand in two emotional worlds at once.

If he wants Alex — choose Alex.

If he wants Maria — choose Maria.

But that “foot in both worlds” energy diluted the emotional clarity.

And it weakened what could’ve been a powerful adult Michael/Maria arc.

Because here’s the thing:

I actually loved Michael Vlamis and Heather Hemmens as Michael and Maria.

They feel mature. Grounded. Adult. Their dynamic in Season 1 especially had that familiar enemies-to-lovers spark, but with lived-in weight.

And that’s where my frustration lives.

My Unpopular Take

If I could fuse both versions, I would.

I’d take:

The mature writing and adult depth of Roswell, New Mexico.

The slow-burn emotional commitment of Seasons 1–2 of the original Roswell.

Because what worked best in the original was this: Michael and Maria were the counterpoint to Max and Liz.

Max/Liz were destiny. Soulmate energy. Almost mythic.

Michael/Maria were friction. Fire. Constant collision.

They weren’t poetic. They were volatile.

But in that volatility, there was real love.

And I wanted that same trajectory in the reboot.

Instead, in both versions, I loved how it started… and struggled with how it ended.

So yes.

My perfect Michael and Maria doesn’t exist.

It’s a mash-up.

Original Roswell’s emotional arc. Roswell, New Mexico’s adult depth. A bisexual Michael with a meaningful past — but a decisive emotional present.

That, to me, would’ve been perfect.

So now I’m asking you:

Which Michael and Maria did you prefer? The chaotic Y2K version? The mature reboot version? Or are you Team Michael/Alex?

And please — let’s argue like adults.

When a Ship Scream Turns Into a “Why Did This Even Happen?” List

Usually on Tuesdays we do what I like to call a Ship Scream.

We pick a show, we pick a couple, and we collectively scream into the void about the ship that drove us completely insane.

But today I want to flip the concept a little.

Because sometimes it’s not about ships we hate.

Sometimes it’s about couples that simply never made sense in the first place.

The kind of relationships that make you pause and ask:

Why were we supposed to care about this?

I’m talking about those pairings that seemed to appear out of nowhere, contribute almost nothing to the plot, and then quietly disappear like they never happened.

So here’s a small personal list of TV couples that left me with one big question mark.

And of course, this is just my opinion — you’re free to disagree.

But let’s talk about them.

Cordelia and Connor (Angel)

Let’s start with one of the most confusing examples.

The moment in Angel where Cordelia Chase and Connor suddenly become a thing.

Someone please explain the narrative purpose of that storyline.

Yes, Connor comes back as an adult after being taken as a baby. Yes, the show was clearly trying to build tension and conflict.

But the relationship itself felt deeply uncomfortable — especially considering Connor is Angel’s son.

And beyond the shock value… what did it actually add?

For me, that arc was also the moment where the show started to feel like it was twisting itself into narrative knots, eventually leading to Cordelia’s disappearance from the story.

A confusing choice for a character who had such an important emotional journey.

Felicity and Ray (Arrow)

Moving into the Arrowverse.

The relationship between Felicity Smoak and Ray Palmer in Arrow always felt… unnecessary.

Ray, in general, seemed to collect questionable romantic storylines.

First Felicity, then Kendra Saunders, and eventually his relationship with Nora Darhk in Legends of Tomorrow.

Some of them were fun, sure.

But most of them didn’t really serve the story.

Honestly, Ray often worked better as a character when he wasn’t tied to a romance at all.

Dawson and Jen (Dawson’s Creek)

Going a bit further back in time.

The brief relationship between Dawson Leery and Jen Lindley in Dawson's Creek.

Even at the time, I remember thinking:

Why?

Because if there was one relationship that truly worked in that show — even without romance — it was the bond between Jen and Jack McPhee.

Their friendship was one of the most genuine emotional connections in the entire series.

And I say that as someone who loves Pacey and Joey.

But Dawson and Jen?

That pairing always felt like a narrative detour.

Sara and Snart (Legends of Tomorrow)

Speaking of the Arrowverse again.

The kiss between Sara Lance and Leonard Snart in Legends of Tomorrow always felt forced to me.

It seemed like the show was briefly testing a dynamic that some fans had speculated about.

Thankfully, it never went further.

Both characters ended up having much more interesting arcs in other directions — especially Sara’s exploration of her sexuality and Snart’s later character development.

Joey and Rachel (Friends)

Then we have one of the most famous examples.

Joey Tribbiani and Rachel Green in Friends.

Even today, this storyline remains… baffling.

Because some couples are simply untouchable narrative pillars.

Rachel and Ross were one of them.

And pairing Rachel with Joey — who had always been part of the same core friend group — created a strange dynamic that the show eventually abandoned almost immediately.

And that’s another recurring issue with these “no sense” couples.

When the writers realize they don’t work, the relationship suddenly disappears and everyone just… goes back to being friends.

As if nothing ever happened.

Which rarely feels believable.

Dan and Blair (Gossip Girl)

Another example that triggered a collective “wait… what?” reaction.

Dan Humphrey and Blair Waldorf in Gossip Girl.

Individually interesting characters.

Together?

A strange experiment that felt like it existed mostly to create temporary drama.

Especially when Blair’s defining relationship had always been with Chuck.

Nico and Alex (Marvel’s Runaways)

In Marvel's Runaways, the early dynamic between Nico Minoru and Alex Wilder also never worked for me.

I could understand Alex having feelings for her.

But the brief suggestion that the feeling might be mutual felt awkward and short-lived.

Thankfully, the series quickly moved away from it.

Michelle and Sid (Skins)

Finally, a truly chaotic example.

In Skins, the brief relationship between Michelle Richardson and Sid Jenkins.

Yes, Sid had always liked Michelle.

But watching them together felt painfully wrong.

Even more uncomfortable was the moment involving Tony Stonem and Maxxie Oliver, which played out in a way that today reads as extremely awkward and frankly quite cringe.

A Quick Mention: Eddie and Marisol (9-1-1)

I’ll end with a smaller, more recent example.

In 9-1-1, most of Eddie Diaz’s past relationships at least contributed something to his personal journey.

Shannon. Ana. Even Kim.

They all served a narrative purpose.

But Marisol?

That relationship always felt like it existed simply to give Eddie a girlfriend.

And that’s exactly the kind of storyline that makes you wonder why it was written at all.

Your Turn

These are just a few of the couples that left me confused.

Relationships that seemed unnecessary, forced, or simply irrelevant to the larger story.

But I’m sure there are many more.

So now I’m curious.

Ship Scream: The Age-Gap Couple That Consumed My Soul — Miguel & Fabiola

When a Ship Completely Takes Over Your Brain: and then they ask me why I'm crazy about Eddie and May (9-1-1) ❤️🙈

If you’ve been following this blog for a while, you already know two things about me:

I have a deep, almost obsessive love for television analysis.

I have an equally intense love for age-gap ships.

And today, for Ship Scream day, I’m finally talking about one of the couples that absolutely destroyed my emotional stability.

I’m talking about Miguel Valdés and Fabiola Royo from Corazón Valiente.

This is the kind of ship that doesn’t just live in your memory.

It haunts you.

Yes, I’m Talking About a Telenovela

Before we dive in, a quick confession.

I’ve been obsessed with Mexican television since 2009. Not because of my background — I’m Italian — but because of a deep love for Mexican culture and storytelling.

I watch everything in ispanic, in the original language, because at this point I understand it almost like Italian.

So yes, sometimes this blog will talk about American shows.

And sometimes it will talk about telenovelas.

Because if I love something, I will talk about it here. Popular or not.

The Age Gap That Would Give People a Heart Attack

Let’s start with the detail that makes people lose their minds.

The age gap.

Miguel and Fabiola have a 23-year difference.

The actors were:

Gabriel Porras (born 1968)

Brenda Asnicar (born 1991)

Which means that whenever people criticize me for shipping characters with a ten-year difference, I honestly laugh.

Because if they knew this was one of my favorite ships ever, they’d probably faint.

How Miguel and Fabiola Meet

Fabiola doesn’t appear at the beginning of the story.

And neither does Miguel.

Miguel eventually enters the story as part of the Valdés family, the siblings at the center of the series.

He works as a bodyguard, like his father before him.

At one point he is sent to Colombia to find someone.

That someone is Fabiola.

A girl who grew up practically alone, surviving by her own instincts.

The moment they meet?

Chaos.

She runs away from him in the rain. She threatens him with a knife. She refuses to trust him.

Miguel calls her “chaparrita salvaje” — basically, wild little savage.

And honestly?

She is.

A Wild Girl in a World of Elegance

Miguel brings her back to the Arroyo family.

A powerful, wealthy household.

Fabiola?

She doesn’t belong there.

At all.

She drinks champagne straight from the bottle. She doesn’t understand social rules. She speaks her mind without hesitation.

She’s chaos walking into a ballroom.

And that contrast is exactly what makes the story work.

The Bodyguard Dynamic

Soon it becomes clear that Fabiola is in danger.

She carries a secret that powerful criminals — including narcotraffickers — desperately want.

So Juan Marcos asks Miguel to do the obvious thing.

Protect her.

The classic bodyguard trope begins.

And if you know romance storytelling, you already know what that means.

Proximity.

Tension.

A relationship that grows through shared danger.

What Makes Their Chemistry So Powerful

Miguel and Fabiola’s relationship is deeply physical.

And I don’t mean just sex scenes.

I mean real physical intimacy.

Touching hands. Holding each other. Leaning close. Silent glances that say everything.

This is something I often feel is missing in modern American television.

Too often, couples jump from first date to bed scene.

But that’s not intimacy.

That’s just sexualization.

In Miguel and Fabiola’s story, their physical connection grows through everyday gestures.

And that makes it infinitely more powerful.

What Each One Gives the Other

Age-gap relationships work best when the difference becomes a balance.

And that’s exactly what happens here.

Miguel gives Fabiola stability.

She has spent her life surviving chaos. With him, she learns what it means to feel safe.

But Fabiola gives Miguel something just as important.

Lightness.

Energy.

Joy.

She reminds him how to live.

And slowly their differences stop feeling like an obstacle.

They become the reason they work.

The Moment Miguel Realizes He Loves Her

At first Miguel resists the relationship.

The age difference scares him.

He knows how people will judge them.

But everything changes when Fabiola takes a bullet for him.

The shot was meant for Miguel.

She jumps in front of him.

She ends up in a coma.

And in that moment, Miguel finally understands the truth.

He loves her.

When Even the Family Accepts Them

Fabiola’s brother initially opposes the relationship.

The age gap is too big. The situation feels wrong.

But when everyone sees how Miguel refuses to leave her side while she fights for her life, the truth becomes undeniable.

This is not a passing attraction.

This is love.

And slowly, even the people who opposed them begin to accept the relationship.

The Chaos That Comes Later

Like many long telenovelas, the later part of the story becomes messy.

Fabiola is kidnapped by a villain who becomes obsessed with her.

She is forced into a horrifying situation where she must pretend to be his wife to protect the people she loves.

Including Miguel.

It’s brutal.

Miguel is shattered watching the woman he loves trapped with another man.

There’s even a moment where she fears her pregnancy might not be his child.

But eventually the truth wins.

The baby is Miguel’s.

And they find their way back to each other.

Why This Ship Still Lives in My Head

Miguel and Fabiola eventually get their happy ending.

They survive everything.

They have their child.

And they remain one of the most beloved couples of the entire series.

Even today, more than a decade later, fans still remember them.

And yes.

I still go back and rewatch their scenes.

Because this couple wasn’t just thrown together.

It was built.

Through time. Through tension. Through growth.

Age Gap Isn’t the Problem

I never understand why some people are automatically against age-gap relationships in fiction.

If one character is underage? Absolutely not.

But when both characters are adults?

Sometimes those dynamics tell the most interesting stories.

Because love isn’t about matching birth years.

It’s about connection.

Understanding.

Balance.

And sometimes two people who shouldn’t work on paper end up being exactly what the other needs.

Now I’m Curious

I doubt many of you know this show.

But if you do?

Please tell me I’m not the only one still obsessed with Miguel and Fabiola.

And if you’ve never seen it, look up their scenes.

Then come back and tell me honestly:

Are you pro age-gap ships… or against them?