You know how just about every Final Fantasy game has characters that are Jail Bait? Like, Yuffie, or Rikku? Do you think that the Jail Bait for FF15 is Prompto? cause he does fit the Jail Bait Profile.
ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: What can you tease of Barry’s struggle to prevent this future and how it might make him spiral? AARON HELBING: The reality is that Barry is going to do whatever it takes to prevent Savitar from killing Iris, so that single event is going to serve as the thrust for the rest of the season. It’s going to be an event that they’ll continue to revisit and try to learn as much as they can so that they can stop Savitar.
Will trying so hard to fix this cause a divide in his relationship with Iris? No, it’ll bring them closer together.
Is it a coincidence that Barry landed in that particular time or is there more to it? Nothing is a coincidence when it comes to Savitar. I mean, Savitar is the most formidable adversary that Barry and the team have come up against. They throw the Philosopher’s Stone into the Speed Force and he gets thrust to that specific time period for a reason.
* * *
How is Iris dealing with knowing she’s going to die? In the beginning, when she first finds out, she’s devastated. She just moved in with Barry, she’s madly in love with him, she has all of these friends, she has a career that she wants to continue to build, so in the beginning, she’s devastated, but because she’s given a ticking time clock and she knows exactly when her expiration date is, so to speak, that emboldens her to go, “You know what? There’s a lot of things that I still want to accomplish. I know when I’m going to die, so I’m not going to die before then.” That’s going to cause her to put herself at risk further down the line in pursuit of her journalism.
* * *
Can the prophecy be stopped? Or will it come true no matter what, but who ends up being in each role is interchangeable? The thing about Savitar is he’s a villain, and he’s going to say things that may or may not come true. It’s going to get the team thinking and looking at each other — Who is going to have a fate worse than death? Who is going to betray the team? — those are things that will be revealed. But in the beginning, you see Savitar, he’s evil, he’s going to say things to get under Barry’s skin and the team’s skin and try to stoke as much distrust as he can. We’re going to play with that first and eventually, we’ll deal with the prophecy.
With that in mind, can Iris be saved or is time owed a death either way? It’s The Flash, so anything is possible.
TVLINE | A handful of people found it a bit jarring that Barry up and got himself and Iris a place to live. Are we to assume that they have been lovers for a period of time…? You know, I think that’s open to anybody’s interpretation. I mean, [that closing scene] was a very romantic setting, a beautiful apartment and two people who love each other….
TVLINE | Right, but before I get my girlfriend and I a place to live, we have probably taken that step, you know? That’s why people are asking. I mean, yeah, they’re two consenting adults who love each other.
29 and 37 immediately caught my eye! Can I request a Bucky x reader? 😎
Omg the emoji xD Yes, of course you may my dear :)
29: Write sappy poems for each other.
37: Play/Kiss in the rain.
When Bucky was away on missions, especially long ones or ones where he was in the middle of nowhere, he would write you letters. You loved how in-touch he was with his old-fashioned roots, and decided to join him in his letter writing. Since he was, once again, old fashioned, his letters were often very sappy, and often included a poem. Bucky was considerably talented at writing:
Dear My Beautiful Y/N,
It’s been a very long time since I’ve seen you, and I’m starting to lose my mind. You have no idea how difficult it is, not being able to sleep with you safe in my arms. I spend every waking moment dying to hear your sweet voice, just one time. I crave your laugh, your touch, your every aspect, and there is no telling how much longer I’ll be able to stand this.
And then he’d often write some sappy sonnet or something.
Y/N, you are my oasis.
The cool taste of water on a parched tongue,
The patch of greenery in a valley of sand,
The one thing I can’t bear to leave
Because everywhere that you are not is bleak.
Except times one-hundred pages. You on the other hand, were not quite born as gifted as your lover.
So, this is a letter. I’m writing it. I feel the same way. I can’t stand being without you; it’s like if you were to take off the tiny dog we all know is sleeping on Trump’s head; I’m feeling incomplete. Wait that was a shitty analogy.
And your poems definitely didn’t make up for it.
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Wait why are violets blue shouldn’t they be violet
Why would they name a blue flower violet instead of naming it blue?
But he cherished every single crappy note like it was all he had of you, because they were all that he had of you in those situations.
It was while you were writing one of your Pulitzer Prize-winning poems that you heard the door knock; you looked outside to notice it was storming like crazy. Who in the hell would be out in this kind of weather?
It wasn’t until you had opened the door that the answer had hit you.
“Bucky?” you exclaimed. He smiled at you in his sopping wet clothes and soaked hair, and you instinctively ran outside to fling yourself in his arms, to which he immediately responded. You pressed your lips against his in a passionate, longing kiss, the emotion only amplified by the unpleasant weather.
“What are you doing here?” you asked with a smile when you finally pulled away. He couldn’t stop laughed happily at you, wrinkles forming at his elated eyes.
“We finished early,” he explained. “I came here first thing.” You smiled brightly at that, pressing your lips to him again. This kiss was less desperate; it was more careful, as if the two of you were savoring each other’s taste.
“Well, I’m completely drenched now,” you said, but even that was laced with a giggle. It was so hard to be upset about anything around him.
“Well, one the bright side, we just had a romantic kiss in the rain,” he reminded.
“You’re such an optimist,” you chuckled.
“You’re the full-half of my glass,” he shrugged.
“Well, we’d better get inside.” He looked at you in disbelief.
“Are you crazy?” he exclaimed. “This is the most romantic weather imaginable.” As if to counter his words, the roar of thunder boomed across the neighborhood, making you jump.
“So romantic,” you deadpanned. He shook his head, pulling you to his chest.
“We’ve kissed in the rain; I say we dance in the rain.” You wanted to oppose him, but you’d never felt more at peace. His flesh hand at your waist, your forehead and palm pressed to his chest while your free hand was intertwined with his metal appendage.
“You’re an awful influence,” you groaned, but you couldn’t complain any further. “Just so you know, I’m not writing you anymore stupid poems.” He laughed at you.
“I saved them all,” he said. “I read them all everyday when I missed you.” You looked up at him sincerely, and groaned.