#does it count as spoilers if it wasn’t in the final film??

[fnaf-movie-countdown]

A clip of what seems to be a from filming a deleted scene where we would see the animatronics in their heyday and all fixed up has appeared!

The actors are all dancing like people not animatronics in the video tho lmao

#fnaf #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy’s movie #five nights at freddy's movie #freddy fazbear #bonnie the bunny #chica the chicken #foxy the pirate #fnaf movie spoilers #does it count as spoilers if it wasn’t in the final film?? #hm #fnaf movie bts

[ambrossart]

DANCING WITH MYSELF

— PART TEN (FINALE)

summary: eddie crashes senior prom hoping to steal a dance with his dream girl, chrissy cunningham. instead, he spends the night stuck in the women’s restroom with you—her snarky, insecure best friend.

❖ pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader  ❖ word count: 11,785 ❖ genre: fluff with some angst ❖ series status: complete ❖ warnings: no season 4 spoilers, some coarse language, body image issues, allusions to eating disorders, typical teenage insecurities, angst, jealousy, anxiety, secret crushes, childhood memories, happy ending, lots of 80s music

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten

Stepping back into that dance hall was a lot like being jolted awake from a sweet sleep.

For a moment you were stuck, caught somewhere on the threshold between the real world and the dream world with one foot on either side: half awake, half asleep, barely there… if you were even there at all. While you were sleeping, reality had continued playing like a movie you had forgotten to turn off. It hadn’t stopped for you, hadn’t paused, and now you were struggling to comprehend the plot, fighting to find your place in a world that had left you behind. You stood outside of it, looking in, but you couldn’t muster the strength to take that final step, to wake up fully and abandon the dream forever.

Because it was such a lovely dream, wasn’t it?

And now it was over—dead and soon to be forgotten, like so many dreams before it. Already, you could feel the memories fading further and further away. Sitting next to Eddie. Hearing his laughter. Seeing his smile. Feeling the warm press of his lips against yours. (You touched your finger to your lips. They felt so cold now.) These images drifted through your mind like a slowed-down piece of film; then they were just… gone. They abandoned you cruelly, slipped through your fingers like tiny grains of sand. You couldn’t get them back now even if you tried. They were floating away: back down that long hallway, back to that closed door that seemed so far from reach. You knew there was no going back, not anymore. Even if you laid your head down, even if you forced your eyes closed, you would never be able to return to that same dream. The door was shut, locked, sealed away forever.

So now here you stood on this threshold, unwilling to go but unable to stay. What choice did you have but to get up and face reality?

You walked into the hall on unsteady legs, feeling a step out of sync with everyone else. In the background, “Love My Way” by The Psychedelic Furs chimed hypnotically and made the room feel sleepy and surreal, as if the whole world was moving in slow motion and you alone were unaffected. People brushed past your elbow and seemed not to feel you. Eyes met yours and looked straight through you. Could they not see the red streaks in your eyes? The blotchiness of your makeup? Could they not tell that you were one “Are you okay?” away from a total breakdown? Did anyone even care?

Here you were, experiencing the greatest tragedy of your teenage life and—nothing, not even a ripple in the water!

You could feel your heart shattering into a million pieces, feel the shards of it tearing you up inside, but no one else could see your suffering. It was like that old philosophical thought experiment: If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

If no one else could sense your heartache, was it even real?

You placed your foot on the step below and felt your heel slip out from underneath you:

down,

down,

down!

A gasp escaped you. Your broken heart leaped into your throat. You caught yourself on the railing, looked down, and saw that your shoe had come loose. It was lying on its side, the faux leather strap barely clinging to your ankle. You must have missed a notch when you re-buckled it, after you…

Here ya go, Cinderella.

Eddie’s voice made you jump. It came to your mind so clearly, as if he was standing right next to you. You sat down and buckled your shoe, then looked over your shoulder and wondered, Is it too late for me to turn back? Is he still there, waiting for me?

(No, probably not.)

Yeah, probably not… I wouldn’t wait for me, either.

You pushed the thought away and walked on. Down the stairs. Along the edge of the dance floor. To the table—your table—where Chrissy Cunningham was sitting alone with her back to you. She was slouching in her chair. Such a terrible habit.

You dropped down beside your best friend, molded your lips into something of a smile. “Oh my god, Chris, you would not believe the line in the ladies’ room…”

Chrissy turned at once, startled, her eyes red and glassy, bottom lip trembling. “I thought you left,” she said, her brows drawn together in a mixture of confusion and disbelief. “I thought… I thought…”  

“What?” you said, and gently swept one of her loose hairs back into place. “You thought I’d miss your coronation? Come on, Chris, I’m not that self-absorbed.”

Chrissy shook her head as fresh tears filled her eyes. “I don’t care about the stupid coronation! It’s a cheap, plastic crown that I’ll just throw away in the morning.” She bent her head and sniffed, then wiped her runny nose on the back of her hand. “I didn’t come here to be named prom queen. I came here to have fun with my friends, with my best friend, and I’ve completely ruined everything! This night has been a total disaster, and it’s all my fault. All that stuff with Chance… and with Eddie…”

Your whole body stiffened with dread. No, please, no… I don’t wanna do this right now, not when I’m finally starting to…

Chrissy seized both of your hands in a desperate grip. “I’m so, so sorry! I swear I had no idea he came here for me. If I’d known, I never would’ve encouraged you like I did. Oh my god, I feel so stupid! Here I am, telling you to go for it and put your heart out there, while he…” She squeezed her mouth shut, choking back emotion. “I didn’t know he liked me. I swear I didn’t. I don’t even know why he likes me. I mean… I mean… I think I said good luck to him once at some talent show back in middle school, but that didn’t mean anything! I was saying good luck to everybody that night—everybody, even that kid with the creepy puppet, and he almost threw up all over me. Do you remember that?”

“Yeah,” you said, and managed a laugh. “It was hilarious.”

Chrissy laughed too, despite her tears. “No, it wasn’t. It was disgusting.”

“You’re disgusting,” you said in a teasing voice. “Look at you, Cunningham, you’re a total mess. Come here.” You grabbed a napkin and started blotting her eyes dry. “Your nose is running. Your mascara’s all over the place. If you go on stage looking like this, everyone’s gonna think you’re a lunatic.”

Another tear slipped down Chrissy’s cheek, painting a black line down her face. You wiped that away, too.

“I just don’t want you to hate me,” she said.

“What? Hate you?” Those two words didn’t even belong in the same sentence. “Chris, I could never hate you. You could go on a massive killing spree tomorrow, and I still wouldn’t hate you. In fact, I’d be right there with you. Be the Bonnie to your Clyde. And then I’d take the rap for you because you’re way too soft for prison.”

Chrissy breathed out a laugh, but the misery never left her face. “I feel like I’m always taking things from you,” she said. “And you like him so much and—”

“Chris, if it wasn’t you, it was just gonna be someone else. And I’d rather it be you. I really mean that.” It hurt you deeply, but it was the truth. “Besides, I can’t say I blame him. I mean, look at you. You’re sweet and smart, and gorgeous. And yeah, your jokes are corny as shit, but hey, no one’s perfect, right?”

No, Chrissy Cunningham wasn’t perfect, but she was probably about as close as anyone was ever going to get.

“Everyone likes you, Chris, and I love you to death, so… it just makes sense, doesn’t it?” A lump formed in your throat as you said this. You tried to force it down, but…

Chrissy’s face tightened with concern. “Hey, are you okay?”

Finally. There it was, the question you’d been craving and dreading all at the same time. You felt so wonderfully vindicated—vindicated and a little relieved, and now you didn’t know whether to pump your fist in victory or fall into Chrissy’s arms, sobbing like a child.

“See, this is why you’re my best friend, Chris. You’re the only one who can see through all my bullshit. You’re like Superman with that X-ray vision.”

“What happened?” Chrissy asked. Her hands were still holding yours—a looser grip, but somehow no less strong.

You cast your eyes away, started chewing on your bottom lip. “I just… You know, tonight’s been very eye-opening for me. I’ve learned a lot about myself. Swallowed some hard truths. They certainly didn’t go down easy, but… I think I’m finally starting to get it.”

It had all snapped perfectly into place, like a bullet into a chamber.

“You know, this whole time I thought my weight was the issue. I thought that was the one thing holding me back in life, and if I could just fix that one thing, then I’d be happy like everyone else. I thought I would blossom overnight, like in all those dumb movies.” Your expression darkened, wilted. “Well, that didn’t happen, did it? I lost the weight and nothing changed. I didn’t get any happier. I didn’t get any more confident. I’m exactly the same. So now what’s my excuse, huh? If it’s not my weight, then what is it? What’s wrong with me? I couldn’t figure it out before, but I see it now. In fact, it’s become pretty fucking obvious. I think I’m just a really unlikable person.”

Chrissy winced at those words. “No, you’re not…”

“Yes, I am! I’m a really, really nasty person. I know I act like I’m just joking around, but I’m not. I’m a massive bitch to everyone, especially myself. You were right, Chris. I’m the one getting in the way of my own happiness. Life gives me lemons, and I just eat them raw, like an idiot. And you know, I bet whoever’s giving me those lemons is standing there thinking, Bitch, what are you doing? Are you trying to make yourself suffer? Yeah, that’s exactly it! I think I’m determined to stay miserable. That’s why I keep eating those lemons instead of, you know, making lemonade or lemon tarts or whatever the hell else you make with lemons. I dunno, I’ve never really understood that expression. I mean, some people actually prefer sour things. And I hate lemonade. It makes my throat all scratchy whenever I drink it.”

Chrissy’s hands tightened around yours and pulled, drawing you close, forcing you to meet her determined gaze.

“What happened?” she asked once more.

Once more was all it took.

Suddenly, you felt the dam break, blurring your vision and making your dry eyes sting. “I fucked up again, Chris,” you said in a high, squeaky voice. “I tried really hard, but I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t make that paper fortune come true.”

Chrissy raised her eyebrows quizzically. Right, she had probably forgotten about that.

“It’s that voice, man,” you went on, dragging your forearm across your tear-drenched cheek. “I know you tell me not to listen to it, but it’s so hard! It just whispers and whispers and whispers, telling you all these little half-truths. And after a while, you start to believe them because they make just enough sense, you know?”

Six years ago, that’s exactly how it got you. Yeah, Scott Sloman wasn’t the only demon trying to tempt you that day. There was a second demon—a dangerous, deceitful one—and unlike Scottie, it never broke character.

It whispered to you sweetly, sounding almost like a friend, like a good ole pal just trying to look out for your best interest (because that’s what friends are for, right?). It reminded you, so considerately, that summer was ending soon. In a few weeks, the campaign would be over. Eddie would be going off to high school and you would be left alone with nothing but this stupid journal that you clung to so tightly. A lovely little souvenir of your time together, that’s what these three months had given you. Congratulations, kiddo. Now you get to spend the next two years flipping through it while he moves on and forgets all about you. And Eddie would forget about you. That was all but guaranteed. Sure, maybe he would wait for someone else—someone prettier, someone like Chrissy, but certainly not for you. No, he would probably forget about you within a week’s time. Y/N, who? Sorry, that name’s not ringin’ a bell…

And then you began to think this was all a huge mistake. You’d waded too far into the deep end of the pool and your feet could no longer touch the bottom. Now you were left with two choices: stay in the deep end and risk drowning or reach for the life preserver that Scott Sloman had just cast into the water.

Deep down, you knew the right choice, but your survival instincts were way too strong. You accepted the demon’s bargain. Signed your name in blood.

After that, there was no going back.

Scottie’s eyes widened when he unfolded the paper and saw your answer.

“The deal is done,” he announced, and then discreetly tucked the paper behind his screen. “The demon’s offer has been accepted.”

The room went so quiet after that. All you could hear was the sound of a single pencil scratching against notebook paper. Eddie had no idea what was going on. Everyone at the table was staring at him, and he was just scribbling away like everything was fine, like you hadn’t just sharpened your dagger and plunged it straight into his back. His foot kept brushing against yours. Every once in a while, he would throw you a little smile. Meanwhile, you sank deeper and deeper into your chair, hoping the seat would collapse and suck you in like a vacuum, send you spinning through time and space and trap you in an alternate dimension. Your left arm hugged your stomach. Your right hand found its way to your mouth and hovered over it.

“Shit,” you whispered into your palm, and that’s when Eddie finally put down his pencil and looked up.

“What?” he said to everyone. “Is it my turn already?”

“Dude,” said Gareth, his face long and grim, “did you not see what just happened?”

“No,” Eddie answered slowly, with a touch of unease. “What? Did I miss something big?”

Gareth’s head bobbed. “Yeah, I’ll say… You’re dead, man. She killed you.”

Eddie’s back straightened in surprise. Then his eyes fell on you, heavy yet hopeful, like he was waiting for you to bust out laughing and tell him it was all a friendly little joke.

“What’s going on?”

The innocence in his voice made your stomach churn with regret. You kept your hand over your mouth, muffling your words with your knuckles. “I sacrificed… the ultimate power.”

Eddie leaned closer, squinting. “What?”

You lowered your hand and cleared your throat. “I sacrificed you to a demon for the ultimate power,” you said, and saw Eddie recoil from you, his eyes widening into an expression of startled hurt. It was the same stunned look he gave you tonight, right before you walked out of the restroom.

I’m really sorry, you said with your eyes, but that apology was soon drowned out by the sound of laughter. Your laughter. It came out of nowhere and spread through you like wildfire. You laughed while Eddie yelled at Scottie and demanded he intervene. You laughed while he huffed and puffed, muttered something about you being dead to him.

(Oh, shit, there it is, you thought now with a sudden spark of clarity. Yep, now I remember that.)

You told him to quit being such a baby. “Come on, it’s just a game, Munson!”

Then he tore up the stairs with his backpack half-zipped and flopping behind him. It’s better this way, that little voice told you. I know it hurts now, kid, but just think of how bad it could’ve been. Think of the pain you would’ve suffered once summer ended. Just think of it and you’ll understand. This wasn’t an act of betrayal. No, this was an act of mercy. You just did yourself a huge favor.

You wanted to believe that, you did, but then you noticed the piece of paper lying on the floor. It was Eddie’s character sheet, the one you had made for him. It must have slipped out of his binder while he was hurrying to leave.

(Or maybe he left it behind on purpose.)

Then you remembered how hard you had worked on it, how nervous you were to show it to him. You almost chickened out and went home with it in your backpack, but you were so glad you didn’t because the smile he gave you made everything worth it. It felt like your first major breakthrough, like you were finally on the right path with him.

And now…

You snatched the paper and ran after him. Nearly tripped on the steps, you were going so fast.

Eddie must have assumed you would come after him because he was waiting for you at the top of the stairs. This made your heart flutter with such hope… until you noticed the anger smoldering in his eyes.

“Why’d you do it?” he asked in a sharp, demanding voice. The strength of it almost knocked you off balance.

“What do you mean, why did I do it?” you said. “My character’s chaotic, Munson. She’s a wild card! God, you’re acting like this is the first time I’ve ever betrayed you.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and took off again. Blew through the Slomans’ kitchen like a fierce winter storm. You went too, and turned quickly to avoid hitting the counter’s sharp corner. Meanwhile, Mrs. Sloman was at the stove, stirring a pot of tomato sauce for dinner. She looked up as you two passed, then sighed and went back to stirring.

To Eddie’s back, you said, “Oh come on, Munson, I betray you on a weekly basis. It’s part of what makes our dynamic so special. I betray you, get us both into a lotta trouble, and then you save the day and we laugh it off and forget it ever happened. Wash, rinse, repeat.”

“Yeah, well, this is different,” Eddie said. “Yeah, this is the worst thing you’ve ever done.”

“Seriously? It’s worse than the time I abandoned you in that sand trap? Worse than the time I stole all your money and gambled it away? Worse than the time I tripped you when we were being chased by goblins in the never-ending caves? Come on, don’t be so overdramatic.”

“I’m not being overdramatic,” he said, and cut through the living room. Mr. Sloman was napping on the couch while Sunday afternoon football played on the television. Eddie saw him and lowered his voice into a harsh whisper. “I mean, do you even realize what you just did? My character’s dead now. I can’t play as him anymore.”

“So create a new character!”

“Create a new character? Are you fucking kidding?”

You cringed at the abrupt shift in Eddie’s tone. Mr. Sloman snorted in his sleep and rolled over.

“Okay, so don’t create a new character,” you replied in a waning voice. “How ‘bout we make a brand new adventure out of it? We can call it ‘Journey into the Underworld: The Quest for Munson’s Soul.’ It’ll be kinda like the legend of Orpheus and Eurydice, but don’t worry, I promise I won’t look back.”

“I don’t know what that means!” Eddie yelled, frustration straining his throat. “God, you keep making all these weird, obscure references that nobody else understands… Besides, my soul isn’t even in the underworld. I dunno where my soul is. You sold it to a demon for some stupid, made-up power!”

“SO THEN WE’LL GO GET IT BACK!” you screamed, making Eddie stop and whip around. You staggered backward, shrinking away from him in shame. His brown eyes were hard and cold, colder than you had ever seen.

That’s when it finally hit you: This isn’t like all those other times, is it? This isn’t something we’re gonna laugh about later.

Then Eddie saw the character sheet and—“Hey, gimme that!”—ripped it right out of your hand. You flinched as the paper sliced across your skin, and flinched again as Eddie’s fist closed around it, crushing the little rectangle beyond repair.

“I was gonna give that back,” you started to say, but then you realized it didn’t matter. The paper disappeared into Eddie’s backpack, and you never saw it again. You figured he probably threw it away.

This is it, isn’t it? Somehow, you could just feel it. This is the end of everything.

All these heavy thoughts crept into your heart like water seeping into a cracked ship hull. Now you were sinking in these ice-cold feelings, and there was nothing you could do but try to buy yourself some time. Try to stay afloat long enough to safely reach the shore. And that’s when you felt a familiar instinct take over. Limb by limb, your body started to seal itself off, shut all the watertight doors. It began at your feet and slowly worked its way up until your whole body felt perfectly numb to everything. That little paper cut on your finger, it didn’t sting anymore. You watched it bleed with a hazy fascination and thought of the demon’s contract, of the red pen you had used to sign it.

“Why are you here?” Eddie asked, but his voice sounded so muted, so far away. It was like he was talking to you underwater.

You turned and stared at him with a queer gaze, as if perplexed. “You already asked me that.”

“Yeah, well… you never really answered.”

Because it doesn’t matter, you thought. None of it matters. I’ve already accepted that, Eddie. Why can’t you?

Your silence made him sigh. “I don’t get it,” he said under his breath. “Why can’t you answer one simple question? There’s a reason you joined, isn’t there? You didn’t just wake up one morning and decide you love roleplaying games. So what is it? Huh? Why’d you wanna join our campaign so bad?”

It was painful to think back on this moment now, knowing what you knew. Part of you wished that you had been born two years earlier. Maybe if you were a little older, a little wiser, you would have handled things differently.

But you weren’t older. You were twelve, and in way over your head. You weren’t prepared to handle situations like this. You were too young, too immature, too caught up in your own fears and feelings that you couldn’t see what now seemed so glaringly obvious.

It never occurred to you—not once, not even for a second—that maybe the reason Eddie so desperately needed your answer was the same reason you were so terrified to give it.

Maybe if you knew that, you wouldn’t have said what you said:

“My best friend’s at cheer camp. I needed something to do.”

Eddie cast his eyes up and away, as far away from you as he could. “So you were just bored, then?”

Your shoulders moved on their own, up and down. “Pretty much.”

Eddie took your answer and swallowed it down with a hard gulp. “Gotcha,” he said. “Well, that’s just… great. Yeah, that actually makes perfect sense.”

He hung his head and chuckled at that for a minute; then he started dragging his feet backward, toward the front door. His departing smile was sad and defeated.

“Well, I’m glad I was able to entertain you.” He pushed open the screen door and went out. “See ya around.”

“And do you know what the funny thing is?” you said to Chrissy now, as the memory faded away. “You know what really cracks me up? That should’ve been the end for me. Yeah, that should’ve been game over, insert a coin and try again, but for some bizarre reason, it wasn’t. Yeah, for some reason, he let me keep playing right where I left off. And I got really close this time, Chris. You would’ve been so proud of me. Victory was in sight. The grand prize was right there. All I had to do was reach out and take it.” You made a snatching motion with your hand, then curled your fingers into a fist. “And do you know what I did? I took it and threw it straight into the trash! Isn’t that hilarious? I mean, isn’t that just like me?”

You laughed out loud—a weak, strangled sound. “Fuck me, man!” you said, and wiped your hands across the dampened apples of your cheeks. “God, I need a shrink… Hey, maybe I should have your mom get me the number for hers ‘cause, lemme tell ya, that guy is doing wonders for her. Yeah, that woman’s just full of confidence now, isn’t she?” You gnashed your teeth and cursed. “God, I wanna fight your mom.”

Chrissy cracked a small smile but said nothing. Instead, she stepped forward and gently wrapped her arms around you, pulling you in for one of those perfect, put-you-back-together hugs. Except this one wasn’t so perfect. This one was Scotch Tape when you really needed Super Glue. It wouldn’t hold for long, but it was strong enough to get you through the night in one piece.

Chrissy rested her head against yours. “Look,” she whispered, “I don’t know what happened and I don’t know what you did, but I’m sure it’s not too late to fix it.”

A tear escaped your eye when you heard that. “Yeah, but I think it is,” you said. “I chose to walk out that door, Chris, and now I think it’s closed for good.”

Chrissy released a compassionate sigh. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe this is the end. But you know what? Even if it is, I promise everything’s gonna be fine. Okay? No matter what happens, you’re gonna be fine. I’ll make sure of it.”

You took a deep breath through your nose, exhaled through your mouth, and broke away. While drying your eyes, you said, “How am I supposed to survive college without you? I could barely make it through a single summer on my own, so I dunno how I’m gonna last four years.”

“You and me both,” Chrissy replied with a bittersweet smile. “We’ll figure it out.”

She wiped a tiny flake of mascara off your left cheek. Blushing, you quickly cleaned up the rest.

That’s when you noticed Jason Carver standing far off to the side, patiently waiting for the appropriate time to come over. Once you locked eyes, he took a tentative step toward you and said, “Is everything… okay?”

“Yeah,” Chrissy told him. “Everything’s fine now.”

“Good,” Jason said. Then he turned toward you. “Look, I’m really sorry for—”

You put up your hand. “Jason, it’s fine. I don’t like what you did, but I get why you did it, so… we’re good. Let’s just move on and try to enjoy the rest of the night, okay?”

Jason’s eyes softened with gratitude. “Sure. Thanks.”

He turned away and—

“But,” you rang out, drawing him back, “since you did kinda humiliate me in front of the entire class, I think I’m entitled to some compensation. Wouldn’t you agree? That’s why you’ll be buying me lunch every day for the rest of the year... and that includes all à la carte items, too. I do love those fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies.”

Jason pursed his lips together. “The rest of the year, huh?”

“You can afford it,” you said, and his eyes narrowed with displeasure.

Jason opened his mouth to further protest… only to close it again when he heard Chrissy giggling quietly into her hand. He drank in her laughter with a crooked little smile and said to you, “All right, fine, you’ve got a deal. But you better not take advantage of it, okay?”

“Oh, I plan to. Wholeheartedly.” You put your hands behind your back and beamed at him.

Shortly after, Ms. Kelley came over and said it was time for all the nominees to gather on stage for the announcement of prom king and queen. Chrissy gave you a guilty look and seemed hesitant to go. You nudged her along with your elbow.

“Go,” you told her. “I’m fine, really. Go get your crown, superstar.”  

“I don’t care about the crown.”

“I know you don’t, but I do… because I live vicariously through you, remember? I’m like a crazy stage mom and you’re my pageant queen daughter.”

Chrissy rolled her eyes amiably. “You’re such a goof.”

“I know,” you said, and laughed. “Now, don’t forget to act surprised when you win, okay? You wanna appear gracious and humble, but not too humble. Otherwise, you’ll be like Sally Field at the Oscars and everyone will think you’re a total whack job.”

You beckoned her closer and lowered your voice. “Oh, and please don’t let Jason hog the mic for too long, okay? You know how he gets when he has a captive audience. He just goes on and on and on… I mean, we’ll be stuck here all night.”  

“I heard that,” said Jason, making you smirk.

“Hey, I’m just saying… keep it under a minute, Carver, or else I’ll have the DJ play you off the stage.”

For that, Jason shot you a playful glare. “Yeah, you’re definitely feeling better. Come on, Chris, let’s go.”

He led her away by her elbow. All the while, Chrissy looked back at you with a worried frown.

You made a shooing motion with your hand. “Go! Go! I’m fine now, I promise. Watch, I’m gonna go grab a cup of punch and then take my place among the rest of the commoners. Seriously, don’t worry about me, Chris. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

Maybe if you said it enough, it would become true.

And maybe you would stop looking over your shoulder, hoping Eddie would be there.

It was nine fifty-eight. Only one more hour to go.

With your cup of punch in hand, you wandered over to Jeff’s table and found him and Grant conversing quietly while Megan Mulrooney lay snoring upon a bed of clumsily arranged chairs.

“Wow, Grant, looks like your date danced herself into a coma.”

Grant put his finger to his lips, then gestured toward his sleeping prom date. “If she wakes up, she’s gonna wanna dance again, and my feet can’t handle that, so…” He swept his hand across his mouth, pretending to seal it shut.

“Got it,” you said, and zipped your lips, too. You sat down next to Jeff. “So, your date still AWOL?”

“Mhm,” said Jeff with an unbothered nod. “You know who I saw her dancing with earlier?”

“Who?”

“Patrick McKinney.”

You put your hand over your mouth, feigning surprise. “How scandalous! Well, I guess we know who she’s going home with.”

“Ha ha. Very funny.” Jeff smiled at you, his eyes glowing with sympathy. “We saw what happened earlier. Man, that was tough to watch… How you holding up?”

“Eh, I’m okay,” you said. “Honestly, I don’t really care about that anymore. I mean, what the hell was I thinking, anyway? Chance Gallagher? The guy’s a dumbass. It’s a miracle he’s even graduating.”

Chuckling, you raised the plastic cup to your mouth and

This is kinda my last shot, y’know? If I don’t get that diploma this year, I’m gonna have to get my GED like every other Munson before me, and I really don’t wanna be another cliché…

felt your lips curl against the rim. This tender smile, unbidden and unexpected, remained on your face while you sipped your drink and cradled the cup against your chest.

To Jeff, you said, “You know, I never really thanked you.”

“For what?”

“For putting up with me all these years. And for sticking your neck out for me.”

“Sticking my neck out? What, you mean back in middle school?”

You nodded, blushing.

Jeff and Grant exchanged bewildered looks. Then Jeff turned back to you with a huge grin. “What’s this?” he said. “You finally getting hit with some of that senior year nostalgia?”

You laughed. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, you don’t have to thank me. We’re friends, right? I’d stick my neck out for you any day.” Jeff’s smile faded. When it returned, it was tinged with regret. “You know, I always felt kinda bad about how things ended that summer, and… well, I dunno… I guess I just wish I could’ve done more for you.”

You shook your head doubtfully. “You already did everything you could. I mean, you gave me a shot, right? It’s not your fault I missed.”

You frowned. All this talk was making your heart throb again; with every painful pulse, you could feel the Scotch Tape losing its grip and peeling away. You quickly finished the rest of your punch and slammed your empty cup on the table.

“Wow!” you said. “Look at me making sports analogies… I think I’ve been hanging out with Jason way too much.”

And now the DJ’s filler music was fading into silence. Principal Higgins had taken the stage and was struggling to adjust the height of the mic stand. Some of the students snickered. Principal Higgins gave them a twitchy little smile. Then he straightened his tie, cleared his throat into the mic, and jerked away from the sudden feedback whine.

“Umm, excuse me? Can I have everyone’s attention, please?”

Finally, you thought with a relieved sigh. You rose to your feet and pushed in your chair. “Well, looks like it’s time for me to head over. Enjoy the rest of your night, gentlemen. I’ll see you two on Monday.”

You waved goodbye, took a few steps and

“Hey, Y/N?”

turned back to look at Grant. “Yeah?”

“Look, this probably won’t help much, but I think it’s something you need to hear.” Grant rubbed his neck pensively for a minute. He glanced at Jeff and received an encouraging nod. “Umm, that day, I know Eddie said he was quitting the campaign and everything, but you gotta know he didn’t really mean it. He was just mad and needed to go home and blow off some steam. He came back for the next session.”

You sucked in a breath. “He did?”

“Yeah, he did,” said Grant, while Jeff looked at you with a pitying frown. “And, umm, obviously I can’t really say for sure, but… I think he was hoping you’d be there.”

“Really?” you said, and let Grant’s words sink in for a minute. “So, basically, you’re saying if I’d just sucked it up and gone to the next session, I might’ve—” You clenched your jaw tightly, fighting back the tears that threatened to rip you apart. “Wow… You’re right, Grant, that didn’t help at all.”

You spun around and shouldered your way onto the dance floor, desperate to lose yourself among the gathering crowd. On stage, Principal Higgins was rambling about the future, talking about how far you’d all come, how you were about to move on to bigger and better things…

But I’m not ready to move on, you thought. Not yet. Not without—

You looked over your shoulder, squeezed your eyes shut, and turned back around.

God dammit! Why did I have to join that stupid campaign? If I hadn’t, maybe this would’ve been just another meaningless crush. Maybe I would’ve actually moved on during those two years. Maybe I would’ve noticed someone else. Been noticed by someone else. Shit, maybe I would’ve felt something when Teddy Brubacher kissed me at Katie McDillon’s New Year’s Eve party. Maybe he would’ve been my prom date tonight and—

You whipped around and hissed: “What? What, Teddy?”

Teddy Brubacher flinched away from you, startled. “Well, you were looking at me like you wanted me to come over.”

“What? No, I wasn’t!”

“Yes, you were. I saw you. You were beckoning me with your eyes.”

Teddy’s gaze shifted as he spoke, traveling lower and lower. Disgust churned in your stomach. Anger burned through you like fire. You squirmed away and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Oh my god, I was not beckoning you with my eyes, Teddy. I was just glancing in your general direction, okay? Now, can you please go bother someone else? I’m really not in the mood to talk to you right now.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You sure? ‘Cause you look like you’re about to cry.”

“Teddy, go!”

“All right, fine…” Teddy stuffed his hands in his pockets and sauntered away. “You know, maybe you should stop sending me so many mixed signals. Ever think of that?”

“What? I’m not sending you mixed signals. I’m not sending you any signals! I don’t like you, Teddy. I’ve never liked you. You’re a perverted little cretin that refuses to leave me alone. There. You happy now? Is that a clear enough signal for you?”

Teddy sneered at you. “God, you’re such a bitch.”

“Yeah, well…”

Your throat closed. For a moment, you thought you might break down and start sobbing right in the middle of the dance floor. You didn’t, but your eyes were wet and glistening like mirrors. You hid your face so no one would see and moved closer to the stage.

Keep it together, keep it together… You’re so close. Don’t fall apart now.

It was a quarter past ten, and you were unraveling.

But you put on a brave face for your best friend. Chrissy was standing off to the side with the other prom queen candidates: Sarah Twinley, Jennifer Warner, and Kara Scott. Chrissy didn’t know what to do with herself on stage. She kept shifting her weight around. Crossing her ankles. Folding and unfolding her arms. But all that fidgeting came to a stop when she spotted you in the crowd. Chrissy smiled and gave you a cute little wave. It was such a precious gesture, like a child waving at her parents during a school play. At that moment, all your problems seemed so insignificant.

Meanwhile, the rest of the students were growing restless. A boy cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted from the back row: “Come on, save the sappy shit for graduation. We wanna party!”

The crowd cheered and hollered. Principal Higgins motioned for silence.

“Quiet! Quiet, please. You can all return to your party in just a minute, but first let’s have a round of applause for this year’s prom court!” The audience applauded half-heartedly. Principal Higgins stepped away and began clapping himself. Then he drew a card from his breast pocket and returned to the mic. “All right, seniors, and now the moment you’ve all been waiting for… The votes are in. We counted them twice. Your 1986 Prom King and Queen are… drum roll, please… Jason CARVER and Chrissy CUNNINGHAM.”

Applause broke out and filled the hall, honest and proud. You were clapping from the third row, a placid smile tugging at your lips. Congratulations, Chris. No one deserves it more than you.

Jason and Chrissy stepped forward with gracious smiles. Sashes were draped over them. Crowns were brought out and placed on their heads. Chrissy’s landed a little crooked. She gently nudged it into place with her hand, then blinked as a bouquet of red roses was suddenly thrust upon her.

Principal Higgins boomed into the mic: “LET’S HEAR IT FOR YOUR KING AND QUEEN!”

Applause swelled and the crowd surged. All the basketball players were going wild. The cheerleaders were whooping and whistling with their fingers. You were still clapping, but no longer smiling. All the commotion was giving you a bit of a headache. Then an old, scratchy recording of the school fight song blared over the speakers, and you really started to get a headache.

Back on stage, Chrissy and Jason were posing for yearbook photos: flash after flash after flash. Chrissy’s smile kept slipping between shots. Her eyes darted around helplessly. She wanted to leave. She needed to leave. The lights were too bright. The music was too loud. And this stupid crown refused to stay put! It kept tipping and sliding down her head like it was trying to run away from her, like it knew she was a fraud—a false queen, who was undeserving of its majesty. Chrissy may have been able to fool her classmates, but she couldn’t fool the crown. It had weighed her, judged her, and declared her unworthy.

But still the applause came. It never stopped. The sound poured into Chrissy’s ears and made her feel dizzy, made her feel sick, made her want to pull away and…

And then she felt Jason’s gentle touch on her head, effortlessly gliding the stubborn crown back into place.

“There,” he said with a satisfied nod. “Much better… Man, that must’ve been driving you crazy, huh?”

Chrissy stared up at him, speechless.

“Thank you, by the way, for suffering through this with me. There’s no one else I’d rather be standing next to right now.”

Jason’s smile was confident and his eyes unwavering. Chrissy’s heart soared. She reached up and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“What was that for?” Jason asked, bemused.

“Nothing,” Chrissy said, “I just feel the same way. Come on.”

She took his hand and led him across the stage, down the stairs, to the middle of the dance floor. The audience parted around them naturally, moving in great waves that rippled outward in every direction. You stood still, grounded like a stone. Then the applause died and the lights dimmed, covering the hall in a veil of shadow that made everything feel so painfully romantic. You sighed as it fell over you, and sighed again when the DJ played Cyndi Lauper’s famous bittersweet ballad, “Time After Time.”

It was ten twenty-three, and you were ready to leave.

You stole one last glimpse of your best friend’s smiling face and felt your chest clench with guilt. Sorry to bail on you early, Chris, but I toughed it out for as long as I could.

Now it was time to go home and put this night behind you. Take that long walk up your driveway. Drag your feet up those creaky porch steps. Swipe your hand along the top of the doorframe and hope with all your heart that your parents hadn’t moved the spare key like they always said they were going to, because you didn’t want to knock on the door and face your parents head-on. Have your dad look into your tear-filled eyes and say with panic in his voice, Oh my god, sweetie, what happened? Did someone hurt you? Yeah, because for him that was the worst possible thing that could have happened to you. That was his greatest fear. And then you would feel so embarrassed to admit the truth: No, Dad, nobody hurt me. Nobody wanted anything to do with me! And then you would run upstairs and spend the rest of the night crying into your pillow, just like you did back in middle school.

You weren’t going to do that tonight. You weren’t going to cry in front of your father. You weren’t going to sit through another one of your mother’s useless pep talks, listen to her blather on and on about how beautiful you were, inside and out, and how one day some lucky guy was going to see it. And when that happens, you’re gonna feel really silly for crying over some dumb school dance. Then you would smirk and say something witty and self-deprecating like, So you’re saying I’m gonna fall in love with a blind guy? And your mother would pretend to laugh and say, Yes, honey, and he’ll even think your jokes are funny.

No, you weren’t going to do any of that tonight because you weren’t that pathetic thirteen-year-old girl anymore. You were an adult and fully capable of accepting the consequences of your actions. You fucked up. You made a mistake. It happened. It’s over. Now all you wanted to do was suffer alone in silence.

So, with any luck, that spare key was going to be exactly where it was supposed to be. That way, you could unlock the door and slip inside like everything was fine.

Your mother would hear the door open and tell your father to turn down the volume on the TV. Then she would catch a glimpse of your shadow in the entryway and say, You’re home early. What happened? I thought you were going to the after-party with Chris.

Yeah, I was, but I’m just really tired. Too much dancing, I guess.

Oh… Well, did you have fun?

Yeah, I did.

Then your mother would smile, perhaps even get a little bit smug. See? I told you you’d have a good time, and that would break your heart all over again.

Yeah, you were right, Mom, you would say. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it was gonna be.

And you would think, It was so, so much worse.

Then you would tell your parents good night and go upstairs. Wash all the product out of your hair; clean the makeup off your face. Put on your comfiest pajamas, turn out the lights, crawl into bed, and listen to one of your Journey albums because, one way or another, you were going to have your Journey moment tonight. You just wished it was under better circumstances.

And while you lay in bed listening to Steve Perry sing “Only the Young,” while your tears dried on your cheeks and your wet hair drenched your pillow, your thoughts would eventually start to wander; then your eyes would start to wander… over to the tiny crack in your closet door, and suddenly a strange impulse would come over you. You would get up and start rummaging through your closet. Find your old D&D journal inside a cardboard box of long-forgotten keepsakes. Dust it off, flip through a couple of pages, and think,

I could’ve gone back.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake that thought from your head. You could’ve gone back. You could’ve gone back. The door wasn’t locked that day. It wasn’t. You could’ve opened it and walked through it, but you didn’t. Instead, you ran away and avoided the problem like you always did; told Scottie you were done with the campaign and spent the rest of the summer wasting away in your bedroom, alone, waiting for Chrissy to come home and put you back together again, because you thought the door was closed, locked, sealed away forever.

You

could’ve gone back

were wrong.

And that’s when you felt a hot burst of adrenaline shoot through your veins, making your whole body buzz with nervous, excited energy.

Well, shit! If you were wrong then, maybe you were wrong now. And now that you knew this, how could you possibly move forward?

I could’ve gone back.

I could’ve gone back.

This single intrusive thought was going to haunt you for the rest of your life: while you returned to class on Monday and begged your teacher to let you change seats; while you studied for finals; while you stood on stage and received your diploma, had the principal move the little tassel on your graduation cap; while you packed for college; while you unpacked for college; while you wandered around campus for the first time and discovered a D&D club flyer pinned to the student activity board; while you snuck a peek into one of their meetings, got caught, and said with a furious blush, Sorry, I think I’m in the wrong room.

Then, eventually, maybe in a month, maybe in a year, maybe in (God forbid) ten years, you were going to meet someone and—yep, sure enough, that thought was still going to be in the back of your mind. Even on your wedding day, it was going to be there. You could see it now so clearly: you standing at the alter in a white gown, staring at some sorry sonofabitch in a black tux; and right before you said, I do, you would pause for half a second and think,

I could’ve gone back.

I should’ve gone back.

I should’ve

I should

I…

Boom! Another blast of adrenaline. This one knocked you backwards and sent you crashing into another student.

“Oh, shit! I’m—”

You spun around and came face to face with Brittany Wirth’s snooty little smirk. 

“Jeez,” she said, “walk much?”  

“No,” you replied with a wide, open-mouthed grin. “Actually, this is my very first time. Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it eventually.”

You walked away, giggling madly as you did. Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m doing this. Wait, am I really doing this? Because this could end very badly for me. Yeah, I could be heading into a real shit storm right now…

And then you felt your legs get heavy, so heavy, and your steps gradually slowed to a stop. It was back again, just like that. With one thought, the anxiety had snuck back into your heart and seized it with a cold, crushing grip. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

What if you’re wrong? that little voice said. What if Eddie wants nothing to do with you now? What if he tells you to get lost and slams the door in your face?

God, that would suck, you thought. Yeah, I’m not sure I could handle that.

But then Chrissy’s words came back to you, quieting all your fears. No matter what happens, you’re gonna be fine, and you knew she was right.

Regardless of how this night ended, you were going to be just fine.

So you took a deep breath, picked up your feet, and kept walking. Pushed through the crowd. Flew past your empty table. Raced up the stairs and saw the door. The closed door.

Closed, but not locked.

You could still open it.

You would open it.  

You surged forward… and suddenly Chance Gallagher was standing in front of you, blocking your path, smiling at you with those perfectly straight, blindly white teeth.  

“Hey, I—”

“Yeah, you can fuck right off,” you said to Chance, and went around him. Then, over your shoulder: “Oh, and by the way, you owe me forty-five bucks, asshole!”

Laughter exploded from your chest, full and free. You surrendered to it willingly, eagerly, let it consume you, let it fill you, let it roll off your tongue, off your lips, and float into the air as you kept walking. Nervous as you were, you kept walking towards that door. And once you finally reached it, once you felt the cool metal handle beneath your fingertips, you

stopped.

It had stopped.

Cyndi Lauper.

Music.

The music, it had stopped.

Why had it stopped?  

The entire hall was dead silent for a moment; then, suddenly, it was alive with the sound of hushed voices, sighs, and stifled laughter. You looked over your shoulder and felt your breath catch in your throat.  

It was ten twenty-six, and Eddie Munson was on stage with the mic in his hand.

It took Principal Higgins all of five seconds to realize what was happening. He put down his punch, slid the silver flask back into his jacket, stormed the stage, and went straight for the microphone.

“Nope. Nope, we’re not doing this tonight. Come on, hand over the mic. Yeah, give it here, son. How about showing some respect for your fellow classmates, huh?”

Principal Higgins reached for the mic. Eddie yanked it away.

“Actually, I have tons of respect for my classmates,” Eddie told him. “That’s why I waited so patiently for you guys to finish. And you… yes, you, sir… you talked for a really, really long time, and now… yeah, now it’s my turn, so…”

Eddie raised the mic to his lips and turned back to the crowd, his eyes clear and focused.

Searching…

Searching…

… and not finding.

“Well, shit,” Eddie said under his breath. The mic caught it anyway and drew contemptuous laughter from the audience. Eddie covered the mic with his hand, then flashed a sheepish smile in the principal’s direction. “Sorry,” he said. “Forgot the mic was on.”

Principal Higgins sighed, put his head in his hand, and started counting the days until graduation.

Meanwhile, Edith Layne was watching anxiously from the fourth row. She sank into herself like a frightened turtle and wondered if she was partly to blame for this disaster. Then she looked over at her prom co-chair and knew she was definitely going to get blamed for this. I’m just way too nice.

On the other side of the room, Brittany Wirth was clawing at her face in terror. Her prom… oh no, her picture-perfect prom! All those months she spent planning, obsessing over every little detail: picking the venue, planning the menu, buying all the decorations, folding all those little white place cards that everyone kept throwing on the floor!

This wasn’t supposed to be happening right now. She was supposed to be humming along with Cyndi Lauper and, instead, she was watching Eddie Munson light the torch and burn all her efforts to the ground!

No, this can’t be happening. This can’t be happening!

Brittany threw down her hands and growled. “Ugh, I knew it… I fucking knew it! I knew that freak was gonna pull a stunt like this.” She turned and took off like a charging bull, knocking everyone out of her path. “Outta my way. Outta my way! Move. Move!”

Brittany blew past you on the staircase and almost knocked you over.

“Jeez,” you said to her, “walk much?”

Brittany stopped and sucked in a startled gasp, eyes wide, mouth hanging open in a silent scream. “You’re part of the problem,” she whispered hotly, and then went scrambling up the stairs and out the door.

You watched Brittany go with a befuddled frown. “What did I do?”

Shrugging, you proceed down the stairs and started pushing your way toward the stage.

“Well, this is embarrassing,” Eddie said, staring at a wall of unamused and irritated faces, none so furious as Jason Carver in his gold sash and red velvet crown. Chrissy Cunningham was beside him, grimacing with second-hand embarrassment.

Sweat trickled down the back of Eddie’s neck. “Uhh… let’s have one more round of applause for the king and queen!” He lowered the mic and started beating his hand against his wrist, prompting half the audience to applaud in a stiff, awkward manner. “You two look great, by the way, with the sashes and the crowns. Yeah, they make you both look very… uhh… regal.”

Eddie let the mic fall to his side. It went thump, thump, thump against his thigh.

Down on the dance floor, Jason Carver had heard enough. “Man, this guy just can’t help himself, can he?” He lunged forward… only to be drawn back by Chrissy’s gentle but firm hand.

“Don’t,” she said. “Please?”

Jason gave her a confused look, but did as she asked. Then Chrissy stepped forward herself and started searching for you in the crowd. When she couldn’t find you, her heart sank with despair. Oh, no… please, no… tell me you didn’t really leave. You’ll hate yourself forever if you did.

And now Principal Higgins was trying to grab the mic again.

“All right, son, you’ve had your fun—”

Eddie thrust out his hand defensively and jumped back. “No, just wait, okay? Gimme a second, just one second. Look, I had a plan, and I know it’s kinda blowing up in my face right now, but I’m not getting off this stage until I say what I need to say, and I can’t say what I need to say until she gets here. Okay? So, with all due respect, right now I need you to back off and have a little patience, man, ‘cause she’s gonna be here soon. I know she’s gonna be here… or uhh, at least I hope she will.” Eddie pushed his hand through his hair and frowned. “Actually, she’s probably doing this on purpose ‘cause, between you and me, she’s kinda vindictive like that. Yeah, she just loves embarrassing me and, y’know, making me look like an asshole in front of everyone…”

And then you wedged yourself between two students and forced your way into the front row. Eddie found you instantly. His chest rose and fell in a deep, shaky breath. You crossed your arms in front of you and raised your hand in a timid, apologetic wave.

“Hi,” you mouthed.

“Hi,” Eddie said back.

Maybe it was due to the lights, maybe it was due to the intense rush of relief he felt when he finally saw you, but at that moment you never looked more beautiful.

Eddie’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly. He cracked a tiny smile. “It’s funny,” he said into the mic. “I had this whole speech prepared, but now… yeah, now I can’t seem to remember any of it.” He breathed out a quiet laugh, then started tracing his bottom lip with his tongue. All the while, his eyes never left yours.

In the silence, someone shouted, “Get off the stage, freak!” and pockets of laughter broke out among the audience. You winced at the sound, turned, and saw Andy Hauffman give Clay Howard a high five.

Eddie acknowledged the boy’s comment with a bitter, resigned smirk. Then he immediately turned back to you.

“Y’know that word used to bother me a lot when I was younger, and I guess it still stings a little, but…” He slipped into a brooding silence for a moment, his expression reflecting years of loneliness and shame. “All my life, I’ve had people telling me to tone it down, telling me to stop, to ‘try to act more normal’… except you… yeah, for you, I wasn’t weird enough.” His face broke into a bright, misty-eyed smile. “And I wish I could put into words what that meant to me back then, what it still means to me now, ‘cause I think if you knew how I really felt, you’d understand why none of this makes any sense to me. You really thought I’d forget you? Man, I wish I could forget you. Yeah, I wish I could move on and, y’know, kill you off in my head, but no matter what I do, you refuse to die. I dunno, you’re like a zombie or something.”

You scrunched up your nose. Did this man seriously just compare you to an undead, flesh-eating monster?

Eddie saw your face and panicked. “Wait, hold on, that… I didn’t mean to say that. Yeah, I dunno why I…”  

He closed his eyes and took a deep, deep breath. “Look, you were right. I came here tonight for someone else… but I stayed for you. I was gonna leave. Yeah, I was getting ready to go home and forget this night ever happened, but then you came running out those doors and you blew right past me, just bawling your eyes out. And I didn’t know why you were crying or why it bothered me so much, but I just knew I couldn’t leave you alone.”

Eddie’s words wrapped around your heart and squeezed so tightly, it made you want to cry. You thought back to the moment he came stumbling into the restroom. The way his eyes bulged when they met yours. You thought he was shocked to see you, but…  

“Yeah… I lied,” he said. “See, I’m pretty good at thinking on my feet, too. Not nearly as good as you, of course, but I can hold my own.” Eddie chuckled a little to himself, his lips curling into that cheeky little grin that always made your brain short-circuit. “Security was never after me. I just made all that up. Actually, now that I think about it, I don’t even think security knows I’m here… well, now they probably do, which means I’ve got about thirty seconds before they come and give me the hook, so I better make this quick.”

Eddie glanced at the door, saw it swing open, then raced right back to you. The corner of his mouth lifted into a tranquil, tender-heartened smile.

“You said you robbed me of my one great memory, but you didn’t… you couldn’t… because you are my great memory. You’re my greatest memory.”

Your heart swelled, overflowing with more emotions than you could process: joy, gratitude, love… most of all, love. You stared up at Eddie with tears in your eyes, wanting nothing more than for him to jump down from the stage, take you in his arms, and kiss you right in front of everyone. If this was a movie like Pretty in Pink, that might have happened, and then you would have danced the night away in a kick-ass closing credit scene.

Unfortunately, this was reality, and in reality, perfect little moments like this always got ruined by big-haired, bumptious bitches like Brittany Wirth.

She marched into the hall with two security guards in tow, pointed at the stage, and said, “There. There he is. Now can you please get that jackass out of here?”

Eddie saw them coming and his shoulders sank in defeat. “Ah, shit, here we go…” His time had officially run out. He’d sung his last song and now they were about to drop the curtain on Eddie Munson’s one-man show.

But first… first, he had one last request to fulfill.

Eddie lifted the mic once more and smiled at you. “I know you really wanted to hear me play my guitar tonight, but uhh, given the circumstances, I hope this is the next best thing.”

He lowered the mic and let it drop to the floor, useless and mute. Over the speakers, a piano began softly, playing a simple but beautiful chord progression that made you clasp your hands over your mouth in surprise. It was “Open Arms.” You were finally getting your Journey moment. It took all your strength to keep from squealing like an idiot. You wanted to laugh. You wanted to cry. You wanted to smack the person next to you and say, See? The perfect prom song. Those bitches should’ve listened to me.

But you didn’t have time to do any of that because Eddie had climbed down from the stage and was about to be taken away by security.  

A burly man in a blue suit said to him, “Come on, kid, it’s late. I’m really not in the mood to get physical with you. So how ‘bout you just leave quietly on your own and make my life a little easier, okay? There’s no need to cause a big scene.”

“I think it’s a little late for that,” said Brittany Wirth with an uppity little smirk.  

The other guard turned to her. “Miss, please, let us handle this.”

Brittany’s face flushed a deep, rosy pink. She huffed and walked away.

“God, she’s such a bitch,” Eddie mumbled under his breath. Then to the guards, he said, “Look, I’m not here to argue with you guys, okay? I know I’m not supposed to be here, and I know it’s your job to keep guys like me out. It’s cool, I get it. We’re all on the same page. All I’m asking for is a little time to say goodbye to someone. That’s it. Just a quick goodbye and you guys can drag me on outta here. You can even cuff me, if you want.”

“Do we need to cuff you?”

“Well, no, I’m just…” Eddie dragged his eyes away, saw you, and grew restless, desperate to get to you. He clenched his jaw, clenched his fists, and let out a frustrated groan. “Look, you see that really pretty girl over there? She and I were having a very romantic moment, and you guys, uhh… yeah, you kinda ruined it, so the least you can do is let me go say bye to her.”

The guard heaved an exasperated sigh. “Kid, come on…”

“Hey, man, I’ve already been here for like three hours. What’s another three minutes, right?”

“You can’t stay here. You don’t have a ticket.”

That’s when your hand flew to your chest, and you gasped. “Yes, he does,” you said. “He has a ticket. I… I have his ticket.”

You dove into the bodice of your dress, causing the guards to avert their eyes.

“Uhh, miss…”

“Oh, what?” you said to them. “You think I’m gonna flash you or something? Relax, okay? I just didn’t feel like carrying around a purse all night.” You pulled out the ticket, walked over, and handed it to the blue suit. “There. See?”

The guard casually examined the ticket, front and back, then looked at you. “He’s your date?”  

“Yep,” you said. “He’s my date.”

Eddie gestured toward you and said with a boastful grin, “I’m her date.”

The guard rolled his eyes and grumbled in response. He flipped the ticket back and forth one more time, glanced at his co-worker, and they both shrugged. “Whatever,” he said, “I don’t really care,” and they both left.

Eddie turned to you with grateful eyes. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

“Well, I figured it’s the least I could do…” You smiled up at him, nerves fluttering in your stomach. “That was quite the performance you gave back there. Highly entertaining.”

“Yeah, I thought might enjoy it…”

“Oh, I did,” you said. “Yeah, it’s definitely in my top three.”

“Your top three, huh?” Eddie fought back a smile. “And what, dare I ask, is number one?”

Your smile grew into a mischievous grin. “The speech you always give right before finals—you know, the one where you talk about flipping off the principal at graduation?” You bit your lip to keep from laughing, but ended up giggling anyway. “I swear, that speech gets funnier and funnier every year you don’t graduate. Turns out ‘84 wasn’t your year, Munson. Neither was ‘85.”

“Yeah, I guess they weren’t,” Eddie said while staring at you. “I’ve got a good feeling about this year, though.”

His soft, dreamy gaze made you blush.

Then he pointed toward the overhead speaker. “See, I got you Journey,” he said. “Wait, this is Journey, right?”

You laughed. “Yes, this is Journey.”

“Okay, good, ‘cause the DJ gave me a really weird look, probably ‘cause I don’t look like the kinda guy who would ever request Journey, which is fair… Anyway, since we’re on the topic of, uhh, Journey, I think you might be a little too obsessed with Steve Perry, which is cool and all, but uhh… yeah, we’re definitely gonna have to set some ground rules, y’know, once we actually start dating.”

Your heart jumped. “Dating?”

“Wait, I didn’t tell you? Shit, sorry, I’m getting a little ahead of myself.” Eddie folded his arms over his chest and gave a thoughtful nod. “Yeah, way I see it, I’ve gotta squeeze about four years of dating into like four months, so… yeah, I’ve definitely got my work cut out for me.”

“Four years, huh?” Inside, you were screaming. “You really think we would’ve been dating for that long?”

“Oh, you don’t think so? Well, I think so… Yeah, I definitely would’ve swooped in during your freshman year. No doubt in my mind. I mean, I would’ve given you a couple weeks to settle in. Then, when you least expected it…”

You made a motion with your hand. “Swoop.”

“Mhm,” Eddie said, and you both laughed. “So, I dunno what your plans are for the summer, but sorry, they’re all going out the window ‘cause I intend to monopolize all of your time.”

A giddy feeling rose within you. You had to sneak in a quick breath to calm yourself down. “Well, I’ve been warned.”

And that made him smirk. “I love how you’re trying really hard to act like you’re not happy right now, but I can easily tell you are, so…”

Eddie went quiet for a second, his eyes shifting back and forth in thought. Then, out of nowhere, he leaned toward you and said in a low voice, “Hey, you wanna get outta here?”

His deep brown eyes pulled you in like a magnet. “Yes,” you said, “definitely.”

“Good, ‘cause… honestly, I’ve been wanting to leave since I got here.”

“Yeah, me too,” you said breathlessly, unable to break his gaze. “I just, umm, I need to say goodbye to someone first.”

“Sure,” he replied with a nod. “Take your time. I’ll just be, uhh, waiting for you by the door.”

Eddie backed away from you slowly, giving you a lingering look that made you feel dizzy and light-headed. Once he was gone, you pressed your hands against your burning cheeks and thought, Oh my god! Oh my god!

You spun around and spotted Chrissy across the dance floor, watching you with the biggest, brightest smile. You rushed up to her and grabbed both her hands, squeezing them tightly with excitement.

“Hey, I’m…”

“Leaving, I’m assuming?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Yeah, I am…”

Chrissy’s eyes sparkled with unrestrained joy. She pulled you in for a tight hug and said to you, “See? I told you you’re the lottery.”

You pulled away and pecked her cheek. “You’re a goddess.”

“Oh, I like that…” Chrissy touched her face and grinned. “Yeah, let’s keep that one.”

You both giggled, hugged one last time, and broke away.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, you better!” Chrissy yelled, and then watched you leave with a warm, tender feeling in her heart.

Once you were out of earshot, Jason Carver leaned over and said to her, “You’re not seriously letting her leave with that guy, are you?”

And Chrissy said, “Yes... Yes, I am.” She smiled at him. “This was a good night.”

“You had fun?”

“Yeah… I did.”

Jason nodded, looked away, and smiled a little to himself. “Good.”

_________________________

PREV // CURRENT // EPILOGUE

*cries happy tears* It’s finally over!

Okay, I realize some of you may be disappointed that there was no big kiss at the end, but I left it out for two reasons: 1) they already had their kiss 2) it’s incredibly cliched, and I didn’t want to go that route. Don’t worry, though, because there will be plenty of kissing (and then some) in the epilogue “Post Prom,” which will be the first of many, many side stories I have planned for this fic.

Thank you so much for reading! ❤︎

#eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson imagine #chrissy cunningham #jason carver #chrissy x jason #stranger things 4 #st4 #dancing with myself #dwm #finale #ambrossart #it’s finally over! #I’m happy but also sad

[toraashi]

𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭.

pairing: xiao x gn!reader

summary: past the eternal suffering and karmic debt, what does xiao truly wish for?

info/warnings: emo, good ending, 2.7 event spoilers (this literally follows the ending plotline), much introspection, hot garbage but i couldn’t stop myself, mentions of death, no other warnings

“I live and breathe you, i keep your love close to my chest, cradling it like a child for that is what it is, right? A fledgling bird in need of nurture and love. Your vulnerability is safe in my hands. If I can promise you anything, it’s that.”

Your words flicker through Xiao’s head in his film reel of memories as the decision become final.

With a conclusive burst of emerald light (pure, unmarred by darkness), he casts you one last glance. A weighted one, vested with all the things he wishes he could tell you, and your face contorts painfully as you shimmer and vanish, the call of his name stolen from your lips. 

It’s with that, the platform collapses, and gravity asserts its control over Xiao, the light so hopefully close now constricting, a mirror image of his pupils as the darkness swaths him. 

The finality of eternity weighs heavy on his conscious, yet the inevitability of death is something he falls upon like a pillow. It’s the only thing he’s known, and now, he will succumb to the fate destined for him since the beginning.

When his eyes flutter closed, he thinks of you. The beauty of mortality, the beauty of you, that you showed him so carelessly. Mortality is clumsy, but as the wind roars in his ears (maybe it’s his thumping pulse?), he thinks he likes how it looks on you. 

His last will and testament, his final wish was to give you the opportunity to embrace that. He thinks he would’ve enjoyed spending another few moments with you, though.

The light dims, and in the darkness he thinks he sees your face. The glimmer in your eyes when he fixes a golden crystalfly to your hair, the way you catch his wrist and press a kiss to his knuckles. Sometimes he wishes he chose to bask in your careless affection. Perhaps Xiao has more wishes than he thought.

The glow of freedom recedes, and then dilates, and in a flurry of light, Xiao’s true last will and testament is fulfilled, and he is on solid ground, the sun warm on his weary body. He cracks his eyes open hesitantly (unbelieving) and is instantly greeted by the sight of you rushing towards him. 

“Xiao,” You choke on a sob, your hands hovering, eyes watery, and Xiao’s gaze soften. The feeling of solid ground beneath his feet is much more gratifying than the fluff of a pillow. “Why did you do that? How could you- you scared me, Xiao, I thought you-” 

He cuts you off by grabbing your hand, tugging it towards his face until it cups his cheek, golden eyes open and meeting yours quietly. For once, you fall silent, and he lets his lips twitch into a smile (it’s barely there, but it’s the thought that counts). Sighing, you collapse to the ground, throwing your arms around him and burying your face into his neck, nose and lips brushing across his pulse as it quells to a steady thump. 

The others congregate around as he rests his hands on your shoulders, the only thought in his mind the fact that he gets to spend another moment in your light. Perhaps accepting a different path from the presumed inevitable wasn’t so awful. 

The fear of tainting his loved ones simmers, and a wall crumbles.

#xiao x reader #genshin impact x reader #xiao angst #xiao fluff #genshin x reader #xiao x you #what else do i tag again

[delyth88]

My immediate I-just-finished-watching-Loki-episode-4 reaction post

There be spoilers ahead.  Oh damn there be spoilers!

Okay.  Firstly, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

Secondly, that was awesome!

Thirdly, so many things!  In no particular order…

Did they just create the Kang problem?  By spagettifying Timely near the Loom did they just somehow seed the multiverse with Kang variants who know more than they should?

“I don’t know”. Agh!  What does this mean! Why is this important to Loki?  What has he just realised? “What’d we do wrong?” “I don’t know”.

The time loop scene was just beautiful! I loved how they cut to Loki from the past and it took me a couple of seconds to realise that wasn’t our present Loki. (Not that I’m complaining, I could happily watch him running desperately through the TVA for a long time lol.) I’d had a feeling the show was going to tie back to the time slipping thing more strongly in this episode so had just rewatched episode 1, for which I am very glad. Made following things a little easier. But it was also great to be able to more closely compare the scene to the on in my memory from ep 1.  I totally thought it was going to be Loki on the phone too though, so that it was OB was almost a disappointment lol!  I’d thought perhaps it was going to be a future version of Loki making the call at that time to bring his past self to that location to be pruned. But unless things are even more convoluted than they appear it seems it wasn’t a call from anyone with that purpose in mind.

The music that starts playing as present Loki realises what’s going on and makes the decision to prune his past self – is that the beginnings of a heroic theme for him!?  Eeeee!  (I feel like it’s going to be my deathbed wish to see Loki straight up play the hero in something, lol!)  Even if not, the music here was great!  From tense and creepy to determined and uplifting!  I didn’t notice it on first viewing, it was just there unconsciously guiding how I felt, but clearly being very effective!

So. That ending eh? OMG! I was NOT expecting that!!!

I was genuinely shocked at the spaghettification.  And then how quickly the Loom went critical and that they actually showed us how everyone handled their last moments.  Mobius disbelieving, Sylvie and OB quietly resigned, B-15 terrified, and Loki, with tears in his eyes, facing death head on.  Lmao.O does that count as another death for Loki? *cackles madly* Also, so THAT’S what that shot from the trailer was from.  No wonder he looked so… much.

And then OMG!  The flickering lights! That was so well done!  Now you’re gonna laugh, but my TV and living room lights regularly flicker and the TV turns off. Something about the wifi and picking up signals from phones and alarms.  For instance it always turns off at 9pm when my alarm goes off.  So you can imagine why it took me watching the final scene three times before I was convinced it wasn’t a technical glitch at my end.  LOL! 

I love how it’s tied in with the flickering of the lights in the TVA itself. And I love how it works as a symbol for a glitch in time itself – which is what I assume these events have caused.  And the music over the end credits – good lord I still have shills! It’s all so very wrong! Like reality is disintegrating. Like a Dali painting. It’s sooo uncomfortable!  And so very, very, well done!  Such a fantastic blend of the show with reality!  Agh! I love it!  I also love that this is something new, something I’ve never experienced in film or TV before and it’s going to stick with me for life.

So did Timely sabotage things, or do something other than what OB was expecting? Or was he just bluffing with Renslayer? Did he volunteer for the reasons he said, or was he planning something? I want to give him the benefit of the doubt, but I’m just… not… sure.  Did he intend for that to happen to him?  Or did he miscalculate? Or was everything played straight?

I’m sympathetic towards Timely.  The trouble is we haven’t seen him for long enough to really know who he is. In the brief time we’ve been shown conflicting things – he’s a confidence trickster, but he seems harmless enough in the scheme of things. His wonder at all the things in the TVA (including the hot chocolate machine) are very endearing.  He seems genuinely scared of… well… pretty much everyone at some point (except OB), and the way Loki and Mobius show him trust and are kind to him is sweet. But then he hadn’t really been around the TVA long enough for us to see what sort of schemes he could think of to work to his advantage, so perhaps it’s just a matter of time.

So where to from here?  I can see why they showed the press up until this point, and I can see why some of the reviews talked about how episode 4 turned things on it’s head. 

I’m going to assume that episodes 5 and 6 are about Loki working out how to fix things. Or maybe not quite fix, but at least not completely destroy. I feel like things at the TVA won’t be the same by the end of the season.

Something makes it so that Loki starts timeslipping again, and into the branched timelines too.  Or is it perhaps just along his own timeline?? We’ve heard him asking how they could do things differently, so I assume that’s what he’ll be trying.  Maybe many different attempts.  Maybe all of those in the room are now unstably jumping about within their own timelines.  I don’t know, but there certainly look to be lots of super cool possibilities!  I half expect the start of the next episode is Loki opening his eyes to find himself in another place/time, and then working out wtf is happening. 

Also, we’ve been working on the premise that Timely is a variant, but what if he actually is He Who Remains? What if HWR is in a permanent time loop? (That is of course assuming that Timely somehow didn’t actually die. Or at least not permanently.)

I think I might have to stop thinking about it there or else I might go mad. *cackles*

Some other things:

OB learning everything from Timely!!!  OMG!  I didn’t expect that but I love it.  That was never fully explained, was it?  Does someone take Timely’s TVA book waaay back into the past? They were as cute as imagined in their meeting.  Part of me is still sad they never signed each other’s copy of the TVA book.  But if Timely’s book goes back to OB then it couldn’t be signed by OB I suppose.

Renslayer and Miss Minutes going outright evil.  Well at least I know what side of things she’s on now, I guess. I’m glad they never showed us the results of the machine, because the expressions of those watching was terrifying enough.

Dox defending B-15’s integrity was great. I should have known she wouldn’t live after that.

Nice to have the memory erasing confirmed.

Interesting convo between Sylvie and Mobius. I thought that was interesting and reflected their experiences and positions well.  I really feel for Mobius. I think I’d probably react similarly to him and just not want to know for fear of it being better than the life I knew.  So I have a lot of sympathy for him, but I can totally see Sylvie’s point.  But sometimes you have to narrow your scope of caring to survive.

Loki and Sylvie’s conversation in the Automat may actually be my favourite interaction between them so far.  Loki seemed to be more confident in himself.  He wasn’t trying to please her or desperate for her to do/not do something. It seemed a more mature conversation where he recognised there was no right answer, and was prepared to walk away rather than try to convince her, and equally, she didn’t just push him away or run herself. I might actually be starting to buy the fact that these tow have a history of some sort.

The fact that OB can reset the TVA’s system and enable magic to be used within the TVA – and Loki and Sylvie’s shouted response – Brilliant!!!  I feel like that’s going to be significant later on.  I mean it did allow Sylvie to enchant X-5, so maybe that’s the payoff already, but maybe it also allows Loki (or Sylvie) to do something bigger in that brief window if he’s jumping through time again. I wonder f also it’ll turn out that some other people in the TVA will turn out to be magic users? (I’m assuming not Mobius because of the 90’s and jetski thing, but maybe?)

So I had really quite low expectations for this season.  As I’ve said before I didn’t like several fundamental things about season 1, but we’re 4 episodes in and I am *almost* confident enough to say that most of those are absent from season 2. Or at least so far.  They key thing being Loki’s characterisation – it’s still not entirely consistent with OG Loki, but it’s no longer excruciating to watch him clown about. There are still a few moments this season that have been beyond my comfort zone, but 90% of the time he’s been more assured and has been treated seriously by the show.  He’s also been the driver of events and the eyes through which we see things more than in the first season. And I am so thankful for this.

The tone of this episode is more aligned with episode 1, but that makes sense because it’s both more similar in topic and by the same directing team.  And given Episode 1 was my favourite before this, I’m more than happy!

There’s still a couple of episodes to go, but 4 episodes in and I’ve gone from, ‘yeah, I’ll watch it but only out of curiosity and some weird lingering sense of obligation because I’m a Loki fan’, to ‘this is actually potentially great and I can’t wait to see what happens next’.  Which has been a bit of a shock.  Lol!  I’ve been a Loki fan for too long to have the confidence to call it yet, but I’m leaning more towards the optimistic end of ‘cautiously optimistic’.

Okay, my mutuals and anyone else who wants to discuss – what did you think?  :D

Tagging a few folk since I’m a day or so late.  But please let me know if you’d rather not be tagged (or would like to be added). @sparklegemstone @pinkpondofasgard @woodelf68 @galaxythreads @ladyofthestayingpower @scintillatingshortgirl19 @projectprotectloki

#loki #loki series #loki season 2 #loki s2 #loki spoilers #loki series spoilers #loki show #loki series review #loki review #loki reaction #loki s2 ep4

[quem-pel]

I was feeling really unsettled after the finale of The Bad Batch and I wasn’t entirely sure why until I talked to my best friend about it.

Spoilers and unsolicited opinions below.

This is just me trying to sort things out in my head and thought I would share.

Obviously Techs death was pretty devastating, and I thought that it was the loss of his character that had me so in my feelings. They had fleshed him out to be very unique; he was the genius trope while still being confident and warm in his own way. You don’t ever see that portrayed in any sort of media and it was super endearing and refreshing. Then they canonized (I’m calling it canon at this point) him being neurodivergent/Autistic and that felt really good.

From what I can remember, he had never been made fun of by his brothers for info dumping, interrupting or his general demeanor. (The Regs made fun of all of them so I’m not counting that) And again, he wasn’t portrayed as being completely callus and uncaring. When he came across that way, Omega called him out like any little sibling might and he had explained his situation beautifully.

“I may process moments and thoughts differently, but it does not mean that I feel any less than you.” Same my tall neurodivergent buddy, same. And I think that is an incredibly powerful thing for a show to say, especially a SciFi universe/series that attracts this sort of following.

So yea, Techs death felt a little like a gut punch. I get sad over character deaths but this one got to me, and Tech wasn’t even my most favorite character.

I believe it was because of the timing and the tone.

It happened with 15 minutes left to the last episode, at that point we know things can’t get better. There would be no ‘fix it’ curve ball where he comes back to save the day, Crosshair wasn’t getting saved and then Omega was taken. There was so much despair and strife that the ‘I’m your sister’ reveal had very little emotional effect on me. At that point, I just didn’t care. I had been curious before, but it’s hard to feel curious about anything when everything felt so demoralizing and hopeless.

And that’s where my disconnect and unsettled feeling is coming from.

Starwars is about Hope, it always has been. It’s a huge reason why I latched onto the universe as my ‘comfort’ fandom. I’m emotionally sick of shows that everything is horrible all the time, if I want that I just open up Facebook or watch the news.

That isn’t to say that bad things don’t happen in Starwars, they absolutely do. But I don’t remember the last time any of the shows or films left me feeling utterly hopeless. Even in season one we have Omega telling Crosshair “You’re still their brother, you’re my brother too.”

This season we get; Tech falling to his death. Wrecker, Echo and Hunter sitting in a Dark Marauder ready to go feral after already trying everything and having nothing left. Crosshair out for the count after being tortured for who knows how long and Omega being kidnapped by the Empire.

Obviously the writing is really good, especially if so many people are having an emotional reaction to it. And I understand that its set right after order 66, so the empire is in full swing of being vicious evil bastards. But I think I am just really missing that punch of hope at the end, that light at the end of the tunnel that can pull us through until next season.

I am unsettled because it just feels really hopeless and that isn’t the theme of Starwars at all.

I want next season to turn that around, I want Tech to make a Starwars ‘not dead yet’ return, Crosshair and Omega to escape and the found family Trope to be intact. But that all seems like a very big ask at this point.

Makes me scared for the Mandalorian. At least we got to see Zeb Live action this week.

#the bad bad spoilers #the bad batch #tech the bad batch #hunter the bad batch #wrecker the bad batch #echo the bad batch #crosshair the bad batch #omega the bad batch #tech tbb #hunter tbb #wrecker tbb #echo tbb #crosshair tbb #omega tbb #tbb spoilers #the mandalorian spoilers #mando spoilers #starwars #starwars opinions #all opinions take it as you will

[marketlong]

Kakashi face reveal

Kakashi face reveal full#

Kakashi face reveal series#

the few main characters of Naruto by being able to move their face around.

Kakashi face reveal series#

With hundreds of episodes under its belt, we will believe the end of the series when we see it. Naruto, sakura, kakashi, tenten, rock lee, choji, nara, deidara, Reader-chan. Supposedly, the series is in the stages of wrapping up, though whether or not that will actually happen remains to be seen. Naruto: Shippuden is currently streaming on CrunchyRoll. The event has yet to transpire in the manga, though a drawing of unmasked Kakashi by Kishimoto was featured at an art exhibition last year, according to Anime News Network. Naruto creator Masashi Kishimoto had previously expressed interest in revealing Kakashi's face, though at the time, he wasn't sure in what form he would do it, saying it might happen in the manga or in an anime film. However, the audience does, and that's what really counts. It makes for an amusing, anime-only filler episode, even if Naruto doesn't actually get to see Kakashi's face. That's enough to throw Naruto, Sakura, Sasuke and their friends off his trail, despite the fact that he openly admits he used to be a ninja and is obviously a similar height to Kakashi. He even speaks with an entirely different voice. He wears purple makeup, a wig and contacts to mask his appearance. He could have become Hokage at an earlier date, but Tsunade woke up from a. Kakashi Hatake became the Sixth Hokage at the age of 32, succeeding Tsunade in the role. In fact, Kakashi is the photographer hired by the group to unmask their master, albeit in a clever disguise. The Kage of Konohagakure, Naruto’s village, is called a Hokage and in this article, we are going to tell you when exactly Kakashi, Naruto’s friend, and mentor, became Hokage. Unfortunately for Naruto and company, Kakashi is totally in on the stunt. Naruto, Sasuke and Sakura are frustrated by Kakashi's unwillingness to show his face, so they partner with a photographer to get hard evidence of what exactly Kakashi looks like under his iconic mask. Spoilers for the episode below!Įpisode 469 takes place in the past, during one of Squad-7's earliest adventures. However, that at long last changed in episode 469 of Naruto: Shippuden, and the reveal likely wasn't what many fans expected to see. In fact, more than a few recurring jokes in the series revolve around Kakashi's appearance, such as him being able to somehow eat ramen through his mask. The stylish ninja is always seen wearing a mask that hides the majority of his face.

Kakashi face reveal full#

In all that time, literally hundreds upon hundreds of hours, fans have never gotten a glimpse at the full face of one of the show's key characters: Kakashi. Watch popular content from the following creators: Mr.Naruto(jiraiya1332), Chescake (chesdog11), Pratik Giri(beb0p), Bay2ga(bay2ga), GBTM(guybehindthemask). Really, people have been complaining about who Lady Thor is for, what, 6 issues and nobody. WHERE is his Sharingan in his left eye The episode takes place during the younger Naruto era, before Sasuke ever even left Konoha Kakashi can't deactivate his Sharingan, he's not Uchiha. The Naruto anime consists of more than 600 episodes across Naruto and Naruto: Shippuden, as well as numerous films. Discover short videos related to kakashi face reveal on TikTok. Im surprised that this wasnt THE top story of all for Comicvine. I just rewatched a clip of the episode when Kakashi finally revealed his face to the audience and I was just wondering one thing.

#Kakashi face reveal

[monkey-network]

Good Stuff: Pixar’s Soul

SPOILERS AHEAD

Reviewing animation is a passion of mine; you probably know that if you’ve followed me long enough. I enjoy doing it for everything new that comes as much as the good stuff of yore. I can’t tell you why I got into it long as I have or if I should consider a full time gig of it, all I know it’s that it’s as much my passion as many other things in my life. That really is a piece to a personal puzzle I’ve developed as I watched Soul, this film from a studio that I admittedly wasn’t sure if it could get its groove back after it felt like they were stumbling a bit. The SparkShorts are good, but Incredibles 2, Toy Story 4, and Onward especially didn’t resonate with me. Didn’t tell me Pixar stood out as much as they in the “Golden Era”. This one did, and let me say it kinda cut deep.

Off the bat, as I understand that the trailers were quite a turn-off, I came to know before watching this that they weren’t trying to reveal everything. Honestly, the trailers were purposefully misleading as the most of what we got from the “Inside Out Knock-Off Blue Blob” world was a little over the first twenty minutes and the very, very end for the climax, less than you’d believe. It is the point I wasn’t too invested in with how simple it all felt; it’s basically if Microsoft or Google developed your birthright. It luckily doesn’t blow smoke up the ass with the way it runs things, takes more shots at ethical philosophy than any religion I could think of, but there’s good reason why we’re not in this world for very long. The Soul world did it’s purpose, but a little too well because it really wasn’t interesting outside the bond between Joe and 22 and a few laughs. Like I said though, we aren’t in it too long before we jump back to Earth with something I should’ve expected with this film but was still blown aback. I’m talking BODY SWAPPED ADVENTURE, Baby! [[SPOILERS AHEAD]]

Far Enjoyable than Your Name, don’t at me

A good chunk of the film has 22 in Joe’s body, Joe in a therapeutic cat’s body, and I’m surprised at how much engaging it was. It helps that 22 is never by any means a nuisance and they actually pull off the mechanics behind the trope well where it doesn’t feel like 22 in Joe’s body is annoyingly all over the place once she gets used to it. Weird that all of New York didn’t seem to give a shit about a middle-aged man stumbling in nothing but a medic robe, but never crossed that line for me to say, “Okay, this shit is stupid.” But what really makes this, basically the majority of Soul work, is Joe (or 22) interacting with the city.

If there’s one great takaway for this, it’s indeed the musicality for the New York life. The barbershop, the subway, the jazz club, the tailor suite run by Joe’s mother, the living streets really make this city feel like a character in its own right. I say this film makes every person we meet count for something. The devil’s truly in the details; every location has a story to tell as well as remind viewers, myself especially, of people and places so close to life. The story paces along nicely too as we get to the “main event” before getting to the moment that made me cry the second time. I cried a total of four times, mostly in the latter half of the film because that was where things were certainly coming together. That was where, I doubt intentionally, the film hit me in the heart more than I could’ve imagined with the simple thought:

I was Joe and 22, and I still am from time to time

Sappy consideration, I know, but to get a little philosophical & personal for a bit. This film is generally about the direction of your life. Joe had a direction set in stone for himself to play the hottest jazz gig despite professedly doing/trying nothing else big with his life, living actively average you’d say. 22, the number which can mean “coming and going” since it’s a palindrome, has no direction despite being capable of understanding everything. As of now, I may only be in my early twenties, but I’ve felt like I’ve been both these characters at the same time, like a eternally spinning coin. I can feel directionless, having no clue to who I really want to be, but I know there is passion in me somewhere that I myself haven’t figured out yet but push forward with every major choice I make. I have both felt like I’ve done nothing and can’t do anything in life despite making it this far. But if there’s anything this film showed me, it’s that it’s alright.

If there’s anything that I can say describes Pete Doctor’s direction with this and Inside Out, it’s that he makes the most basic and simple human truths feel necessary, welcoming, and especially otherworldly. With Inside Out saying “it’s good to be more emotive”, Soul tells me “it’s good to enjoy the simple things in life.” Not to say you should live average and accept it, nor is every big moment you have will/should impact you the same way or the way you wanted, but appreciate those moments where things just go your way for a change. Where you can just look at the world, take a deep breath, and just feel comfortable with yourself to live another day. This isn’t a particularly surprising message, but it works because it fulfills everything it built up. Who else but Joe on that day, finally getting what he wanted after so long, can feel empty from it as opposed to the moments where he got to enjoy those enjoyably average moments he didn’t think he’d get along the way? And who else but him could show 22 that living doesn’t mean having a purpose or having that purpose in your mind 24/7. 

You can just... live as everything does.

This film isn’t as honest as Inside Out, especially with the whole concept of the Great Before, but it still offers that pragmatic advice in a way that definitely sticks. It can feel like this film came out at a bad time with the given circumstances of our reality, but it’s as much a simple pat on the back to tell you it’s okay. I figure the execution won’t be for everyone, the film isn’t perfect plotwise, but to me it’s definitely a golden, just as mature light for modern Pixar. A considerable classic that I hope is given well with time as much as a chance with all audiences. 

4 Out of 5. A Soulful Sensation of a Film

#Soul #pixar soul #soul movie #pixar #disney #animation #cartoons #movies #analysis #reviews #long post #Good Stuff

[omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts]

A Siren Song

Pairing: Robert Dubois/ Bloodsport x Reader

A/N: so I just finished watching the new Suicide Squad for the second time and I’m even more obsessed now than I was the first time I watched it. It’s a brilliant film with actually good humor, a non-sexualizing and actually empowering view on Harley Quinn (that leg scene?? y'all-), the rats?? Rat-catcher 2?? THE SHARK?? FLAG?? Who looked really good in this movie, he might be another contender for a story as well as Harley Quinn so lmk ;) but Bloodsport immediately piqued my interest because it’s Idris Elba and he’s gorgeous, I loved the complexities of his character and I want to write for him and no one else has done it yet?? so shoutout to @honey-im-emotional​​ for the support and push to do it! also love The Bodyguard movie, helped with the inspo <3 and i’m so sorry all of my stories are similar but I HAVE A TYPE enjoy and feedback is always appreciated loves and there will be SPOILERS so be warned, also if you want a Harley one next lmk ;) (it’s so long I’m so sorry lol)

Summary: You’re a highly targeted member of the royal family, the last in your line. Bloodsport is hired to be your bodyguard to both watch and assassinate the men after you. He believes it’s below his pay-grade, but reluctantly agrees, doing so to the best of his abilities. But the closeness brings more intimacy than you two expected, and sparks fly.

Warnings: foul language, sexual content, smut, choking, light bdsm, fluffy fluff, dirty dancing, dirty talk, violence and bad guys getting murdered, mentions of Harley x Reader (y’all sexy dance and kiss), reader likes women, dom! Bloodsport, age gap, alcohol consumption, jealousy, heavy kissing, slight angst, just a good time honestly

Word Count: 3,825

You dangle from the ceiling with your aerial silk, fitting your leg in the loop you’ve created, and dangling upside down. The rope wraps around your waist as you hang gracefully from your marble walls, flying. Your friend Harley Quinn taught you how to do this years ago, it now being your favorite form of exercise and relaxation when you need a moment to clear your head. 

As you lightly spin, twirling and dancing in the air with your chandelier reflecting light everywhere, a dazzling fairy floating in a sea of stars. You hear footsteps approach and move to hang upside down, facing towards the grand door. Robert Dubois, a.k.a Bloodsport, walks forward to stand directly in front of you. 

You have known him a few weeks or so now, him having to watch your every move and tracking down your family’s killers. He stands and meets your eyes as you dangle, hair falling below you.

“Hi,” you giggle, face flushed with heat. “I probably look ridiculous right now.”

He composes himself so he doesn’t crack a smile, but you see his lips twitch when he speaks, “No, Mrs. y/l/n.”

“I have a first name, you know,” you grin widely. “I’m younger than you, which hardly warrants such a professional title.”

“My apologies, y/n,” he fixes himself.

“It’s alright,” you ease, filling him with a sense of softness he hasn’t felt in a long time. You flip and land on your feet, letting go of your silks. 

You don’t notice as his eyes glaze over your body in your sports bra and shorts, something his cold, calculated stare should never succumb to, but he does anyway and he kicks himself for doing it. You’re his client and should therefore remain as such, no conflict of interest or thoughts other than to protect. He didn’t want this job, hell, he still doesn’t know why he said yes. Maybe it was the money. Or maybe it was upon seeing you that first time, in that star-studded gown the night of a charity gala you were attending, the way the diamond littered fabric hung over your figure, absolutely dazzled. The way you looked at him and smiled, like you were used to with all the other nobles and adoring fans. But he let himself believe it was different.

He can’t do that anymore, however, because he can’t allow for any complications. And falling for his boss is certainly a complication. 

You look at him and your eyes widen with realization, “Oh, I’m sorry. Let me cover up.”

You grab a tee shirt and toss it over your exercise clothes. He looks down as you do so and clears his throat. This brings a small smile to your face.  

“You called me in here,” he gestures to the necklace charm hanging around your neck that you can squeeze and send an instant distress signal whenever you need it. “What can I do for you, y/n?”

“Wanted you to spot me,” you tease, a smile overtaking your delicate features. You have a sort of stunning beauty about you that takes him by surprise every time he lays eyes on you. Which is often. You lay on your yoga mat and sit up straight with that same damned smile. 

“I’m here to do a job, y/n,” he says, his deep, honeyed voice coating the way he says your name like heat to sugar. “Not aid you in your workout routine.”

“What? Your assassin training didn’t include sit ups?” you smile, tongue in cheek.

“No, but if you need a way to kill a man with a book,” he presses a foot over both of yours as you begin to do sit ups. “Then I’m your man.”

“Yeah, you and John Wick,” you breathe out with a laugh. “And shouldn’t you be in here watching me already? Not by the door?”

“This room has no windows and no other door or entrance besides the one I was standing by. I thought you would want privacy,” he averts your gaze. “I’m sure it’s a hard thing to come by these days for a woman like yourself.”

You stop what you’re doing and look up at him, blinking, “Well, you’d be right,” you tuck your hair back. “So thank you.”

He meets your eyes, bordering on a smile, “You’re welcome.”

“Is that a smile I see?” you chuckle.

The smile shines, “It was a diversion. And you failed.”

You laugh loudly, “Will the next diversion be an actual laugh?”

“Wouldn’t be a proper diversion if you knew what it was.”

You tap his feet so he’ll get the hint and let you up. You rise to your feet and dust yourself up, “I appreciate your spotting.” You press a hand to his chest and hum. Warmth radiates from your palm and he inhales sharply. “For someone who wasn’t trained, you sure are a fast learner.”

He looks at your hand and back to your eyes, heat sprouting from where your hand touches. His hand flexes at his side as he looks around the room, to the door, seeing if it’s closed. 

“I-” he cocks an eyebrow then settles. “I think I should go.”

He watches you look at him with wounded eyes, brow lowered, you open your mouth then close it. 

You nod, moving away from him, “Right.”

You move to walk away when he stops you, mouth by your ear, voice dropping an octave when he whispers, “Just so you know-” you tilt your head up almost instinctively to hear him better. “-my assassin training did include reminding people who they are when they’ve forgotten their place.”

You look up at him fully now, “You work for me, remember?”

“I work for money. And you didn’t hire me. I was employed by Mrs. Waller to keep you alive,” he cocks his head slightly. 

“So it would be frowned upon by her when you’re unable to walk if you touch me like that again.”

You couldn’t believe he had just said that. Your eyes widen and your cheeks once again heat up, blushing. Your chest gets hot when he doesn’t break the stare like he’s calling your bluff, and fuck, did he do just that. You turn away from him.

You can hear the smile in his voice, “That’s what I thought.”

~~~

“Robert said that!?” Harley exclaims, eyes wide. Her jaw is dropped as she does her mascara aggressively in the mirror. “He’s usually so...”

You tug down your tiny halter top over your head, your bright, flattering makeup complementing the colorful swirling pattern, “An empty void with no emotion?”

She nods emphatically, agreeing, “Exactly! I had no idea he had it in him?” she raises her brow and smooths down her leather black and red dress, “Or that he wanted to put it in you-”

You slap her arm, chastising, “You don’t know that. It might have been a threat to actually paralyze me in a very not sexual way.”

“I say both are arousing,” she shrugs, platinum curls bouncing.

You roll your eyes with a small smile aimed at the floor, “Anyway-” you slip a belt through your tight jeans, hitting at your waist when you cinch it in. “We should get going if we want to get to the club on time.”

She pauses. “Y/n. Are you sure we should be doing this?”

You do a double take, “You’re telling me that we shouldn’t sneak out and have a good time?”

“I know the irony is apparent,” she looks at you with a knowing stare. “But not if it means you’re in danger. Which you are.”

“I know,” you frown. “But I’ve been locked in this house for months, I miss going out and having a life. I’m tired of being coddled.”

“I know, sweetheart,” she sighs, looking past herself in the mirror to flash me a sympathetic smile. She thinks for a beat and finally spins around, “Alright, screw it, doll, let’s go paint the town.”

You buzz with excitement, grinning, “Yay! Thank you, thank you! I wonder who will be djaying...” you trail off. 

Harley’s face falls and her mouth goes in a solid, straight line, looking past your shoulder, “I don’t think anyone will be.”

You laugh, completely oblivious, “Of course there will be. There has to be music. Dancing in silence would be pretty fucking awkward.”

“This moment is pretty fucking awkward.”

“What do you mean?”

A deep, irritated voice sounds off behind you, “Because you’re not going.”

You jump out of your skin, “Shit, Robert! You scared the hell out of me!”

“You’re not going to that club,” he folds his arms over his chest. You look over him and his casual, night wear: a loose tee and low hanging joggers. You almost wipe your mouth from salivating. Your outfit elicits the same reaction.

You pinch your eyebrows together, “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Yes, I can. I’m tasked with protecting you.”

“Yeah. And nowhere on your job description does it say ‘become my parent’. There’s not an opening now just because I don’t have one. I am a grown ass woman and I have been a prisoner in my own home. The same home where...” you pause, a lump in your throat at the reminder of your family’s passing. You shake it off, “I’m just tired. I want a piece of my life back. You can either stay here or come. Either way I’m going.”

He gives you a quick once over and contemplates his options before dropping his arms to his sides and letting out a long exhale.

“Fine.”

You somewhat relax at his defeated tone, “Fine, what?”

He relents, “You can go, but I’m coming with you. But if anything happens to you, I’m not to be blamed. I will leave your ass in that club.”

You grin and jump up to give him a tight hug around the neck. He stiffens before slowly rubbing your back. You sink into his embrace, feeling like you were floating in water, now above the surface as he brings you back to oxygen. Harley smiles at the exchange and she winks theatrically. 

He glares. 

It’s not long before you three arrive at the club, music blaring and colorful lights flashing over the crowded floors. From his stare and intimidating aura, the club staff thought he was a bouncer and let you all in immediately. But before he was roped into working, the three of you bee-lined to the bar. 

“The prettiest and strongest drink ya got, sugar,” Harley smiles at the pretty bartender.

“And what if that’s me?” she responds, ebony hair falling onto one shoulder.

“Then I’ll have to drink you later,” Harley gives her a flirty once over and you roll your eyes.

The bartender grins and gestures towards me for my order, I answer quickly, “Scotch on the rocks.”

Robert looks at you, poorly covering his shocked expression. “Really?”

“Yeah, why?” you look up at him.

“Didn’t peg you for a straight liquor type, Ms. y/l/n,” he finally lets his hidden laugh show through, butterflies erupting in your chest. The diversion definitely worked, whatever you were thinking about before this has immediately left you.

“Then this is going to be the first surprise of many tonight, Mr. Dubois,” you return the smug look as he orders the same thing. You both share a look.

The bartender slides you all your drinks, each of you taking a long swig for liquid courage for the night. Harley’s favorite Doja Cat song comes on and she gasps, clapping excitedly when she grabs you by the wrist, pulling you on the dance floor, “Come dance with me.”

You mouth a small ‘sorry’ to Bloodsport who you left at the bar, he shakes his head with a smile over the rim of his glass, watching you guys’ drinks. 

She dances wildly, jumping up and down, spinning to let her hair fall in many beautiful angles. She’s a powerful force and your greatest friend. She puts her arms around your neck and the two of you move in time with the music.

“So...” she motions to Bloodsport who’s being forced into a conversation with a woman at the bar. The woman puts her hand on his and he visibly shrinks back and whispers something to her that causes the most horrid look from the woman and for her to walk quickly away. You smile at the relief that interaction has brought you.

“So what?” you spin her around and pull her back.

“Quit with the good dancing, or I’m gonna fuck you myself,” she teases with a lightheaded giggle.

You smile, “We’ve tried that already, remember?”

“Too much history, I know, I know. Doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be nice...” she whispers into your neck, kissing the soft spot under your chin. Your skin heats up under her touch as she drags her hands down your sides, pulling you close to her so that you’re flush against her chest.

You give into her and kiss her slowly, her soft lips melt into your own when her hands tug in your hair. Harley and you have always had a complicated friendship, with enough sexual attraction to fuel a nuclear bomb, but not enough romantic. You love each other but not in the way you both need. You were in love with Robert and she is continuing to explore her sexuality because she likes women and so do you. So as she trails her hot mouth down your neck in the middle of dozens of bustling bodies and you lock eyes with an angry Bloodsport, you knew exactly what she was doing.

You whisper, out of breath, “Are you trying the jealousy trick?”

“It worked in college, didn’t it?” she kisses your cheek, smiling gently against your skin. “And it’s working now.”

“I think you’re just obsessed with kissing me,” you kiss her back.

“It was a win-win situation, doll,” she grins devilishly and you can’t help but agree. “So when you’re done with him, come see me. But right now, I have a sexy bartender lady to drink up.” You grip her hand and let her make her way to her next conquest.

Robert had seen the tail-end of your kiss, his deft fingers clenched around his whiskey glass. He knows he shouldn’t let this sort of thing affect him, something as juvenile and simple as jealousy. But he couldn’t stop that feeling of being stuck, unable to think about anything except the fact that it wasn’t him with his hands on you like that, lips marking you as much as he pleases. Sadness washed over him in a tidal wave and he set his glass down, about to get up to leave when he spotted a man eyeing you from the door. He looked familiar and it wasn’t just attraction he sensed in his eyes but something far more sinister.

A few more men followed suit and began making their way to you in the middle of the dance floor. He had no time to consider the facts, just to get you out of there as soon as possible. 

You feel a rough hand tug your arm and turn to face who you think to be Dubois, you smile, “Enjoy the show?”

“Very much,” an unknown voice answers, and you look up, eyes wide. “Now why don’t you come with me for a little talk, beautiful.”

“Get the fuck off of me,” you yank your arm back, slamming your heel down into the perpetrator’s foot. More men surround you on all sides, making it impossible for you to escape or use your subpar martial arts skills. Aerial yoga was a very different ballpark than kicking ass. And you were just a beginner.

You poorly punch a man in the face, only making them all angrier when you’re grabbed from all sides, being dragged towards the exit kicking and screaming. You didn’t want to be that helpless damsel in distress, but as all of these men, men you recognized from your family’s death, were surrounding you, you couldn’t breathe. Their hands felt familiar, grabbing your arms like they’d done that night before you hid in the secret door in the dining room. You had watched these faceless men through a hole in that door, stifling your cries when bullets sprayed the room your family was having dinner in. So while they were coming after you and pulling you outside, it’s all you felt. That same feeling when he wasn’t near.

Drowning.

There’s a hand that pulls you back and you watch, dazed, as Bloodsport puts every man who touched you on the ground. It’s filled with swift yet aggressive and barbaric movements, controlled, expert chaos and it happens within moments. His chest is heaving when he looks down at you and scoops you up in his arms. You’d object in any other circumstances, but this time, head against his chest and tucked in his arms, you were okay.

His voice rumbles against your side, “We’re going home.”

~~~

Harley’s tears hit your shoulder as you sympathetically pat her back.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I shouldn’t have left,” she sniffles loudly. “I should’ve been there.”

You laugh softly, fitting your head into her shoulder, “It’s okay, Harls. It’s not your fault, there was no harm done.”

“There could have been,” she sighs. “I’m not letting you convince me to go out next time, you’re staying here forever.”

You roll your eyes with a smile, “Alright.”

She gets up and sniffs, wiping at her nose that’s now flushed from crying, “Good because I’m serious.”

“I know,” you laugh again, hugging yourself in a hoodie much too large for you, (because you stole it from Rick Flagg) swallowing you whole. 

Your eyes wander down the hall to where Robert is no doubt pacing around in your bedroom, the only room not laden with cameras (ironically for privacy). You kick at the floor in your fuzzy socks and think of an excuse to go check on him, even though you’re probably the last person he wants to see right now. You, frankly, don’t care.

“I’m gonna go-” 

“Check on Robert?” she finishes. “I know, honey. I was a psychiatrist, I’m not stupid.”

You crack a smile and grip her arm affectionately as you walk past her towards the bedroom. You don’t even take the risk of knocking for fear he’ll lock it and try your luck with just simply opening it. You see him, shirtless with a towel over his shoulder, a low hanging towel wrapped around his waist, while nursing his knuckles. He looks you over once you enter the room, trained eyes on you and the intimidation is definitely working already when he takes the damp towel on his shoulder and dabs the cuts on his skin.

He remains silent and you move to sit down on your bed, the awkward squeak filling the already high-tension atmosphere, thick enough to make your ears pop like you’re in an airplane too far up in the sky.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, drawing his eye. 

He hums and steps into your bathroom, washing off his hands. 

You frown at his lack of response, “Are you really going to pout this whole time? Because honestly, it’s beneath you, Robert.” You lean forward, watching as he walks out of the bathroom, still half naked, still silent. 

The silence is beginning to slowly kill you, especially when he looks this good, water droplets running down his chiseled torso from a hot shower. You didn’t let your mind wander because if the reaction your body is giving from the image before you was any indication, you want him. He walks in the room once again, mouth in an amused yet firm line. 

In actuality, he was ashamed of himself. Not so much of you. He would’ve left as that despair overcame him back in that bar. He would’ve left you there and abandoned his mission, leaving you to be hurt. If it hadn't been for those men, you could’ve been killed and it would be his fault. He alerted Waller of the attack, making up a lie about the two of you going for a walk at night and getting ambushed there rather than at a club. There’s a hit on each of those men being taken out as we speak as well as a search for their boss. Even though that still got him chewed out. He couldn’t imagine what she’d do to him if she found out the truth.

Robert walks slowly towards you, leaning against the bed frame, gesturing for you to continue. You watch him, distracted, as he wraps a bandage around his knuckles.

“I shouldn’t have kissed her to get a rise out of you, that was hurtful,” you exhale your words, quiet enough he wouldn’t be able to hear you if you weren’t within a breath of one another. You hang your head, “And it was stupid to go out in the first place when I am in this much danger. I could’ve been killed, and you could have been hurt. I’m sorry.”

He represses a laugh at the idea of him getting hurt, when the two of you both know that would never happen. But as the silence from him grows thicker, the more you start to ramble.

“Okay, this silent treatment isn’t going to work for much longer. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you need to stop.”

He gives you a look that says ‘make me’. But you both know you couldn’t if you tried, and vice versa. He thinks of you as a siren, one of those alluring creatures in old sailor tales that lured unsuspecting men to their painful deaths. As if he has no control of the way he feels about you. Which in a way he does, but he knows better. He knows better than to fall under your enchanting song, but he can’t help but be pulled beneath the surface of the water. 

Robert tenses when you move forward and the hoodie falls off one of your shoulders, revealing more of your chest, the smooth skin that lays there. 

His chest tightens when you look up at him and sigh.

“But thank you for saving me,” you say, both because you think that’s what he wants to hear but also because you mean it, you wouldn’t be here at all if he didn’t come with you.

He licks his lips and nods his head in simple recognition. He appreciated the apology, truly he did, but a part of him enjoyed the way you continued to ramble on, so he remained silent. This was an old interrogation tactic he learned when he served, keeping quiet always got people talking. He looks down at you and leans to meet your face, hands on either side of you. 

“I don’t know what else you wish for me to say,” you admit quietly, fiddling with your hands.

He didn’t know either but whatever you would say, he would listen.

“So I take it you’re not mad anymore?” you infer from his relaxed posture, heart beating out of your chest, fast enough that it catapults to your throat. 

He tilts his head down so he’s an inch before your mouth, breath fanning over your face. when he tugs you up to your feet, hands gripping the sides of your waist when he pulls you close. Your heartbeats began to sync up, chest to chest.

“I’m fucking furious, sweetheart.”

You meet his eyes, looking up in that seductive stare of yours you never knew you were capable of until him, and close the distance, kissing him lightly. His arms falter by your side and it’s the first time you’ve seen him hesitate, losing his cool. It’s the most gentle thing he’s ever experienced, everything in his life being forced, hostile, and malicious, while your soft lips against his are anything but. You kiss him like he’s not the monster he thinks himself to be. 

“Then let me make it up to you.”

“Fuck,” he grips your sides harder, palm moving to push you closer with his hand flat against the small of your back. “We shouldn’t.”

You search his face for uncertainty, but all you sense is a profound sense of clarity, in the both of you. “I know.”

“Will you regret this?”

You shake your head, hand against his cheek, “No.”

His dark eyes fall to your lips, pupils filling his dark brown irises, lust blown, “You’re so good, baby. You’re too good for me.”

Before you can tease him about the new nickname and object to that, his lips have crashed against your own. His hand slides up to cup the side of your face, drinking you in with his intoxicating kiss. You hum, content, against his feverish mouth and he opens it, vulnerable and on display. You feel his guard still up, tense and calculated, so you rest your hand against his chest. You press a kiss to his eyelid, his cheek, his nose, his chin, his jaw, his neck. He softens beneath you, groaning aloud as his hands tighten. 

“You don’t need to be afraid with me,” you whisper to him, tender fingers trailing down his shirtless chest, hot skin against hot skin. It’s enough to make you sweat.

He exhales and captures your bottom lip with his own, holding your face in both of his hands. The kiss grows heated and rushed, like you’re running out of time, as if at any moment those men would come back and find you and take you away from him again. His tongue expertly works with your own, licking the pout of your bottom lip, and coaxing you open. He slides his hand down between your legs, dipping his finger to find the slick in the middle of your thighs. You moan into his mouth, his other hand at the back of your neck when he buries his face in your shoulder. He kisses you there, the crook where your neck meets your collarbone, that damned sensitive spot. You succumb to his touch. His beard tickles your skin and you gasp when he sucks hard, a bruise forming.

You breathe a laugh, “Everyone will see if you leave a mark,” you tug on his hair when you thread it through his coarse curls. 

He falls under your spell and there’s something so ironically beautiful about this trained assassin with a heart of gold and the scars to show for it, being so open with you.

His hands, his entire life, have been forced to be instruments of death and violence. But as they slide down your figure, holding your face, and pulling you into him, they’re his greatest gift. He’s surprisingly tender with you. 

But then he has enough and pushes you down on the bed, arms trapping you on both sides.

He responds bluntly, “I don’t care.”

You part your legs for him and he releases a shaky breath. He slowly unzips your sweatshirt and it falls off you just as you do the same and tug his towel down. Both of you are bare before the other as you take a moment to drink each other in. You were just as, if not more, beautiful than he imagined you to be. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says quietly as his hand drapes down the line of your figure. He touches you how someone would handle a glass vase filled with flowers. 

You take his face in both of your hands and kiss him, “So are you.” 

“I don’t think you know what you do to me, baby.” His hand finds your breast and squeezes while he kisses your neck.

You moan when he uses his other hand to grip your neck, thumb against your pulse point, “If it’s anything like how I feel right now, then yes, I do.”

He lifts his head up to watch your face as he chokes you, softly so he doesn’t hurt you but hard enough to play with your breath. His thumb opens your mouth and your legs tremble. 

“So I take it you’re into choking, my love?” You nod excitedly, unable to speak, and his grip tightens. 

You let out a squeak and he releases, face etched with worry, kissing your neck where he touched you. “Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry.” 

You shake your head and smile comfortingly, “No, baby, I’m okay. I’ll tap out if it’s too rough, I promise,” you tease.

His grumbling voice deepens, “Good... because, darling, right now all I want to do is bury my face in between those gorgeous thighs of yours.”

You inhale sharply when he opens your legs once again, looking up at you and you nod in consent.

“I need words, beautiful,” he smirks with his mouth just above your center. 

“Yes, please,” you breathe out and he responds with a swift lick to your pussy. He looks up at you and when he catches your eye, it’s as if the sensation grows stronger and your head hits your pillow.

“I’ve barely even touched you,” he mumbles into you and you feel his smug smile in your thigh. His fingers dip into you as he flattens his tongue and crooks them towards himself, you grip your sheets.

“Don’t... flatter yourself,” you sigh out. “I-it’s just been awhile.”

He removes his mouth and fingers from you, “So anyone can make you feel like this?”

You enjoy the feeling you get when he looks at you like that, his eyes dark and dominant, so you play along and nod. “Yes, in fact, I’ve had better.”

He licks his lips and gets up from the bed. He opens his drawer and you sit up to look what he grabs: a belt. Your heart beats excitedly in your chest even though you know you shouldn’t be. He gets back on the bed and climbs over you.

Robert looks at you, “Hands.”

You extend them to him wordlessly, watching as he ties your wrists together and puts them over the bedpost so you’re trapped there, unable to move.

“Now,” he holds himself above you, pressing a kiss to your lips. “You’re to stay tied up until I say so, anything like that again and they get tighter. Nod if you understand me.”

You nod emphatically. You had never seen this side of Robert before, so in control and not afraid to go too far, it was so unbelievably sexy. 

The best part was he didn’t tie it tight enough, afraid of hurting you, so you could easily slip out your hands at any moment.

He kisses, painfully slow, down your chest and wraps his lips around your nipple. He swirls his tongue around the erect bud and you gasp, desperate to touch him. He looks up at you from you chest as he switches to the other, massaging the unattended one as he sucks, the pleasurable feeling overwhelming you. So much so you have to clench your thighs together, longing for some sort of relief for the tension building in your abdomen.

“Baby, please,” you whine, squirming beneath him.

He shuts you up with a bruising kiss while his hand slips down to enter you, two fingers in already. He pumps them in and out of you before sliding back down the expanses of your body and letting his mouth latch onto your clit. He sucks hard and you stifle a loud moan that would surely alert everyone in the home of your arousal. He holds you down against the bed with a palm flat against your stomach as you begin to lift your pelvis. His tongue enters you while his fingers take over, stimulating you with gentle rubs and flicks. But just before you feel that euphoric release, his actions cease and you’re left hot and flustered. 

“Robert,” you look at him with a deep frown.

He grins, “Y/n...”

You blow hair out of your eyes, “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” He puts his lips near your ear, “Are you ready?” You nod as he pushes himself inside you and you bite back a moan into his shoulder. 

You finally have enough, slip your hands out, and he pinches his brow, unable to hide his shock before you bring him down to press your lips against his. He melts into you, arms wrapped around you while he holds you close, filling you out in all the right places. He quickens his pace and you whine into his mouth, nails digging into his skin. You wrap your legs around his torso and he hits you so nicely. He was right, it’s the best you’ve ever had. He rises and looks at you, lips swollen and red from kissing, eyes clear and pupils large, and face flushed with heat. Your hair is in messy tendrils at all angles and you’ve never been more attractive.

“You’re doing so good,” he praises in your ear, placing kisses across your jaw. “Taking my cock so well.”

You whimper and his movements stiffen as he approaches release and so do you, walls tightening around him. He reaches down and rubs your clit with his expert fingers. You finish together, mouths open and hands all over each other’s bodies. It overcomes you in a tingling, perfect sensation, it continues on, leaving you aching and wanting more.

He rubs his knuckles over your cheek, softly and adoringly he looks at you. You tuck yourself into his arms under the blankets. Everything you both have wanted for a long time, laying right in front of you.

“Still want to make me not walk?” you tease, looking up at him.

He kisses your eyelids and you giggle, “Fuck yes.”

Part 2?

#harley quinn #harley quinn x reader #rick flagg #bloodsport #bloodsport x reader #robert dubois x reader #robert dubois #idris elba #suicide squad #suicide squad 2 #dc #dc smut #dc fanfiction #fanfiction #smut

[theonewiththefanfics]

Shield (one-shot)

Synopsis: To the new Captain America she might just be a human shield. But Bucky can see there’s more to it. What he can’t understand is why she stays.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, lil bit of fluff

Warnings: mentions of blood and guns, swearing, torture, low mental state etc.

Word count: 3591

I am going absolutely feral about the fact that a portion of the series takes place in Latvia as I am Latvian :D Just seeing the signs and streets (which are not really ours cause they filmed in Prague, but are similar enough I can envision it), especially because we’re such a small country is amazeballs, so to be in such a huge show with my MCU faves is insane. Had the same kind of reaction to Brooklyn Nine-Nine with Nikolaj and the Captain Latvia episode. Riga hammer for the win :D 

P.S. John Walker is not Captain America cause he does not posses America’s ass. Also Zemo is one hundred percent Bucky’s and Sam’s sugar daddy. I won’t accept any dispute over this.

P.S.S. please also remember - John Walker is a character not a real person. John Walker is played by an actor who is doing his job the same way the actor who played Joffrey did. Do not harass him etc. but rather appreciate the insane talent he has. This place is a Wyatt Russell stan place.

P.S.S.S. Kinda spoilers for the show so if you haven’t seen it, don’t read this.

He hated him. Bucky genuinely hates him. He never thought he had despised something or someone so much, not even HYDRA, as much as he hated John Walker – the new Captain America. He wanted to scream at that, at the fact that this arrogant asshole was carrying Steve’s shield, the symbol of freedom and everything good, while in reality, he embodied none of what it stood for.

           Walker and what he’d learned his sidekick was Battlestar, had swooped in from a helicopter while Sam and he had been following the Flag-Smasher vehicles, and, well, they hadn’t been a lot of help, which he shouldn’t be too surprised about. But what he had been surprised about was when they’d all been thrown off of the semi-trucks and scattered all around a field, someone else had been in the mix as well. 

A young woman with Y/H/C hair and determined Y/E/C eyes was rushing towards them, screaming for them to stay on the ground. When Bucky looked behind, he could see why given how one of the radicalised people had jumped from the trucks and was barreling at them with an automatic cocked at them

           But it wasn’t Walker who jumped up running past her, shield at the ready to take on the fire. No. He just remained sitting as the stranger kept her pace. She leapt at the two with a grace of a cat, pushing him and Sam back to the ground and immediately got blown back by the received ammunition, gasps leaving her mouth as the bullets entered her body.

           Sam’s wings extended and created a body length shield as Bucky snatched one of the knives strapped to the man’s side and flung it with deadly accuracy into the Flag-Smasher’s neck, dropping him to the ground. 

           There was blood when he looked back. There was so much blood, and once again it was all over Bucky’s hands, and he couldn’t breathe properly, pressing down on her abdomen and shoulder and side, and. oh god, there were too many bullet wounds...

           Two wide Y/E/C eyes stared back up at him, mouth gasping down shallow breaths as he held down on her wounds trying to stop the blood from pouring out. God, there was so much of it.

           “Don’t close your eyes,” he gritted, his body trembling. “Well get you help. You’ll be alright.”

           But then Walker spoke up, and Bucky saw read because of a different reason. “She’s fine, just leave it.”

           His head snapped to see that arrogant bastard cross his arms as he hissed. “Leave it? She’s fucking bleeding out! She took those bullets for you, and you just want to leave it?!”

           Walker just smirked, nudging his chin towards her body. “You’ll see.”

           “You let her use herself as a shield while you did nothing!”

           “Yeah,” he scoffed. “Because that’s her whole point.”

           And that’s when Bucky felt her skin shift underneath his hands. Slowly the blood stopped pouring out, Y/N’s breathing evened, and her eyes closed not because death was calling, but because of relief as the regenerative cells kicked into high gear.

           Bucky gazed in wonder as the wounds closed up, and when only scar tissue remained he snapped his blue eyes to her, Y/E/C ones already staring back at him.

           “Who are you?” he whispered

           “A human shield that’s what,” Walker answered in her stead, but Bucky just sneered.

           “I asked who, not a what. She’s a fucking person.”

           Once more he looked back down and saw a strange look in her eyes. It was as if she was trying to decipher what those words meant, but once the shock from such a huge assault had ended, she gulped down a breath and gave him a crooked smile. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

           A lopsided one came to grace his own face. “I’m James Buchanan Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.”

           “Bucky.” Her eyebrow rose. “Well, it’s very nice to finally meet you.”

           He smiled at her, and not the painful smile he’d given the senator before her arrest, but a real genuine smile, one that made the skin around his eyes crinkle. 

           “And it’s very nice you didn’t decide to die on us.”

           “Yeah, yeah, can we cut this meet and greet shorter?” Walker interrupted them, and if Bucky hadn’t been holding onto Y/N’s shoulder as she tried to rise from the ground, he would’ve punched the guy. 

           “I told you she was going to be fine.”

           Bucky threw him his best murder glare but stopped when he felt Y/N squeeze his hand as if saying ‘don’t bother.' His brows furrowed in confusion. She just shook her head.

           “We should still find you a hospital.” He talked to Y/N directly, ignoring what the new Captain was saying. “It doesn’t matter that you can survive something like that, I’d rather make sure you’re checked out by professionals.

           “It won’t be necessary.” Walker slipped the shield on his arm and nudged his partner to start walking with him, pretty much expecting the rest to follow. “It was her choice anyway to take the hits.”

           “It doesn’t mean she should!” Bucky pretty much hollered, startling even Sam.

           At that, he saw Y/N’s eyes widen and her head snap up to look at him. All the breath got knocked out from Bucky at the emotion in her face. It was like she didn’t believe what he was saying like she didn’t know it was a possibility to not put her own life before someone else’s, that maybe someone is supposed to do it for her, someone could protect her.

           “She absorbs fucking bullets and infuses them in her body.” John mocked. “I’d say it’s a win-win on both sides. Everyone else stays safe, and she gets stronger, right? The whole bleeding thing is a hitch in the system, but our guys say with enough scuffles that should stop as well.”

Walker looked at her. Y/N just gulped, staring back down at the ground between her knees. 

           When he looked back at everything the moment he’d seen Zemo in the cell and the asshole had said something still remained in him from the Winter Soldier, came back to connect with the scene. He’d hated that sentence because Bucky knew it was true. The Soldier would always be a part of him, but that was what therapy was for – to accept it and let go. But in that minute, he wouldn’t have cared one bit if the ruthless assassin came to the surface if it meant snapping Walker’s neck like a stick. 

           He treated the woman as if she was below him, as if Steve’s shield somehow made him better than her, better than anyone, and yet, even when he’d been given the privilege to carry it, he’d rather use a human person, no matter if they had powers, as a shield.

           A soft hand touched his side, and Bucky looked at Y/N, his breathing heavy at Walker’s words. 

           “I’m alright.” Her voice was softer than he thought it would be. Maybe it was because she was trying to stay out of John’s earshot, but even the gentle whisper made something in Bucky’s chest stir. “Thank you,” she said. “For checking up on me.”

           Bucky stiffly nodded, standing up and offering both his hands for her to take, but even with that, it took Sam holding her by the waist to be able to stand. The Falcon had to catch her, in fact, when she took her first steps, an awkward chuckle escaping her mouth. 

           “It’s been a while since a hit like this.”

           Sam quirked a brow and smirked. “You always have a tendency to do stupid shit like that?”

           Y/N’s whole body relaxed as he said so, and a sting went through Bucky’s own. How bad were they treating her if basic kindness and a little bit of joking made her feel so safe?

           Just as he was about to ask her more, to offer to take her with them, Walker spoke up again. That conversation was an absolute disaster, and the fact that Walker thought Sam and him would actually ever consider working with him on this mission was idiotic. 

           It ended with the two Avengers watching how Walker threw an arm around Y/N’s shoulders, making her knees buckle with the weight, her from still regaining strength, but he didn’t care, just dragged her along with him and Battlestar.

           “Are we just gonna let ‘em do that to her?” Bucky sneered, arms crossed watching their retreating forms over the field.

           He felt Sam glower next to him. “There’s not much we can do.”

           He hated that he was right.

           Bucky couldn’t stop thinking about Y/N. One meeting had left him shaken to the core not just about her, but about how there was something deeply off with the new Captain America, that if they didn’t take action something horrible would happen, not just because of his arrogance, but because of some seed he could feel had rooted itself in the other man’s heart.

           But by that point they’d been in Madripoor, had met Sharon who’d been on the run from the US government ever since the dismantlement of the Avengers, and had now followed a lead to where the Flag-Smashers had settled in Latvia.

           Zemo seemed to not only have a billion cars, but a billion apartments scattered around the world, this one being in the heart of the Old Town. 

           Bucky was on the roof looking over the twinkling lights of the city. His bed had been too soft as it always was, and even the floor wasn’t it for him, not a wink of sleep coming his way as his thoughts were flooded by Y/N.

           Well, the sleep part wasn’t true. He had been able to drift off, only to dream of how the woman didn’t get better, didn’t absorb those bullets and had died right in his arms. That’s when he decided he needed a breath of fresh air.

           The sound of shuffling feet made him whip around from the scenic view only to be greeted by a form he’d now recognise in a full-on ski-suit in pitch-black darkness.

           “What are you doing here?” Bucky stood up wanting to stride over and check her for any wounds she might’ve gotten while around Walker. Any new scar on her body would mean the same number of teeth he’d knock from that Walmart-version-Captain-America’s mouth.

           “Came to warn you.” She shrugged, soft winds making her coat flutter. “John and Lemar are resting, but come morning they’ll be on your ass, so you might wanna make a move now.”

           Bucky shook his head. “I don’t get you. You’re nothing like them, I can see that you know how wrong it is, for him to be carrying that shield, that he’s making a mockery out of the name and legacy Steve built, and yet…”

           Y/N hung her head lifting her shoulders, hands in her pockets. “I gotta do what I gotta do.”

           “He’s an asshole,” Bucky hissed. 

           Y/N gave him a painful look. “I know. But I don’t have anywhere to go. Besides… you have your own way of making amends. Well, this is mine.”

           Dark brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

           She let out a painful chuckle, not because of the memories now plaguing her waking thoughts, but because her wounds were still healing, and instantly Bucky came closer and took her hand, running a soothing thumb over her palm. Wounds he was sure were new.

           Y/N froze at his touch, and Bucky was about to pull away when she put her own thumb over his. He had to bite back tears at how tenderly she was looking down at his palm. Like no one had ever comforted her when it hurt. 

           “When the Blip happened,” she started, voice low and quiet. “I watched how my sister and mom disappeared right in front of my eyes. We were driving over the Golden Gate Bridge, and there was a truck before us. It was carrying loads of metal scraps. The driver of the truck got blipped as well.” She swallowed harshly. “I can still feel how the beam went through my shoulder, how it broke the bone and skin, and how I just wanted to disappear like they had just to make the pain stop. But I didn’t. It hurt so bad.” Y/N looked at Bucky, tears running down her face. “It was burning and tearing, and so much pain… and all I could do was scream, but no one heard me because everyone else was screaming, and I was just one of the thousands doing it.”

           Y/N shook her head, and when Bucky leaned closer to wipe away the tears, she sighed at the feeling. “I passed out sometime later. From the pain the… well, everything. And when I woke up, I heard people outside the door, trying to rip it open, I could see red lights flashing, but where I expected that beam to be was nothing. When I looked down at myself there was a hole in my shirt, but instead of a hole in my shoulder, a round scar was the only thing left from that moment.”

           “They took me to the hospital, and when they tried to put an IV in, my body just swallowed up the needle.” She took a shaky breath, and Bucky squeezed her side. ‘Go on’ he tried to convey with the touch. ‘I’m here.’

           “That’s when the tests started. They were fine at first. Blood samples when they managed to get any, saliva and all that good jazz… but then they started poking. And poking turned into slicing which turned into stabbing until I was their personal pincushion, as they tried to see what my body would and wouldn’t take.”

           Y/N was shaking by that point, but not because of the wind that had picked up, but because of anger, of the horror, she’d had to go through. It took everything in Bucky to remain calm and let her continue.

           “Two years they did that. And then one time they went a bit too far. Someone had stolen a vibranium spear from the Dora Milaje.”

           Bucky’s breath got caught in his throat. He wasn’t moving a muscle.

           “They wanted to know if I could absorb the strongest metal on Earth, so slowly…” Her hands went to her front, to the white blouse she was wearing and started popping open the buttons. Bucky was just about to protest when he understood.

           “They pushed the spear too far.” Her finger ran over a rhomb shaped scar right in the centre of her chest. Right over her heart. “Pushed it right through.”

           “How did you survive?” Bucky was appalled, but in awe at the same time. 

            Y/N shook her head. “I didn’t. I died then and there on the table. They took my body and dumped it in some ditch. From my own calculations, it took me about a day to heal. They’d sown in a scalpel in my stomach a few hours before, so I’m assuming it used that as the binding material for the cells.”

“I was so angry.” She looked at him. “At everyone, at myself, that I couldn’t help my family, that I allowed them to just use me like that, I just went off the deep end. I did so many bad things…” A tear slipped down her cheek. “I read about the Winter Soldier, y’know. His whole thing was efficiency, quickness. I – “ She choked on her words. “I wasn’t. I wanted to drag it out. Wanted to find each and every one of the bastards who laid their hands on me and make them suffer as I did.”

           Bucky’s hand settled on her waist as he pulled her closer, feeling her body keen at the motion as she looked for reassurance. “I’m not a good person, Bucky. This.” She motioned with her head to her body. “This is my repentance for what I did.”

           “What he’s doing is not right. What they’re making you do is not right.” Bucky shook his head. “Just because it might not kill you, doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. No one had any right to touch you.”

           “It’s the price I pay for what I did.”

           “Pain?”

           Y/N nodded. “Eye for an eye. Pain for the pain I caused.”

           Bucky shook his head. “That’s not right.”

           “How else am I supposed to do this?”

           “By getting help yourself first.”

           Y/N’s eyes widened, and Bucky sighed. He understood how impossible that thought seemed, that someone who’s done so much bad could deserve help from others, but he understood her situation better than anyone. “Being here,” he said, “being able to say these things… I can only do that because I got help. It was mandated by the state, but nevertheless…” Both chuckled at that, and Bucky’s heart lightened at the sound, at the genuine sound of joy from her. “But the therapy… I hate to say this, but it helped. It’s not easy. I sometimes detest going to the sessions, and I might be failing them quite miserably right now, especially with rule number two –“

           “What’s rule number two?”

           “Don’t hurt anyone,” Bucky mumbled. “And I’ve broken it quite a lot recently, I know that which will either make me end up behind bars or will add more therapy sessions to the list, but I’m not afraid anymore.”

           Y/N gulped, gazing just as intensely at Bucky as he was at her. “Of what?”

           “Of reaching out.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Of asking for help. Of understanding that I deserve help, and I deserve to receive it.”

           “Yeah, but the thing is I’m not like you.” Y/N looked away from him. “No one forced me to do this, no one brainwashed me. I did everything out of my own volition. Me. No one else. You deserve that help because HYDRA did all those things to you. You are a victim of war. I’m not. All those horrible things I did… I did them. Not some alias of mine.”

           Bucky’s heart hurt at the fact that Y/N couldn’t see she was a victim of her own circumstance, and how now the government was punishing her for it. And that’s when another brick hit him – it was exactly like Isaiah’s situation. Both came from marginalised groups, parts of society where the ones in power have been trying to oppress and control them for as long as he could remember, he just couldn’t see it. He could see Sam’s point of view now. Maybe not as clearly as he should, but he was starting to wipe away the fog.

           “They used you just as much as HYDRA used me.” He asserted, and Y/N’s eyes widened at his sure statement. “Just because a pile of shit has a bowtie on now, doesn’t mean it’s no longer a pile of shit… Come with us.” Bucky’s forehead pressed to hers. “Let’s do this the right way.”

           “It’s mandated by the US government that I stay by John’s side and help him.”

           Bucky smirked at that, nudging his nose against Y/N’s. “Well, it’s a good thing we’re in Latvia then. Besides Captain America has no pull here.”

           She laughed, warm breath slipping over Bucky’s skin, and he had to close his eyes as the thought of her breathless and underneath him invaded his mind. “Unfortunately, this deal stands whether I’m inside the borders of USA or outside.”

           Y/N looked over the skyline to where the country’s national monument stood. A woman, hands up in the air outstretched with three stars in her palms, with words she couldn’t understand when she'd arrived etched on the granite at the bottom. Some local had translated them for her. For the Fatherland and Freedom.

           After the blip and the experiments, she didn’t feel like she had a home. She’d been imprisoned and prodded like some lab bunny to see what her body could do. What her body could be used for.

           Bucky followed her gaze as she kept looking at the statue. Different stars, different saying, but still with the same meaning of what he saw when he looked at the Captain America shield. Freedom. Justice. For the love of their home.

Something deep started to burn in her chest, and even Bucky could feel the shift. 

           A ferocious look appeared in her eyes as she looked at him. “Let’s get that shield.” She wasn’t going to let Walker taint that star, she knew would happen if he had it for much longer.

           They’d had a single meeting beforehand, and during that half-hour, he’d been terrified for more than two-thirds of the time about how Y/N might die in his arms, die because she’d taken bullets meant for him. 

           He was so glad she hadn’t, not because it would be another life lost because of him, but because he felt like he’d found a twin flame – someone who’d understand him and his troubles. Someone he could help.

           Maybe that could be the true way he could make amends – help someone in the same situation.

           Bucky smiled.

           Y/N did so too, and his heart skipped a beat looking at the woman.

           Her body might be able to absorb the metals piercing it, Walker might call her a human shield, but he knew she was so much more than that. And he’d spend however long it took him to prove so to her. Maybe even in more ways than one.

_________________________________________________________________

Please reblog if you like this. For whatever reason my Bucky fics aren’t appearing in the tags :(

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[justiceleaque]

Hey Leaque! I know you watched the new Justice League movie and I was around when you were doing the very first DC movie reviews back in the day. I would absolutely love a review of this one if you have the time :)

i've been a fan of Snyder's universe from day 1 so i understand this might be considered an off-balance review already, but i want to note that i didn't come in wanting the film to be good or willing to see it as good despite actual impressions. i wanted to watch it as the Justice League movie i was supposed to get back in 2017, the same one i was willing to not watch for years if it meant Zack Snyder got to finish his vision even later down the line

i was actually as neutral as i could possibly get because at this point i don't have any real emotional involvement in whether this version of the DCEU continues or not. WB execs have done some fucked up things with the treatment of the cast/ray fisher, so i take this as Snyder's DC trilogy and nothing more (which makes it bittersweet for me but that's a different topic)

heavy spoilers follow

it's incredibly comic book-like. i remember typing the exact same words back in the Dawn of Justice days: it doesn't read as a superhero film a la Marvel but as a comic book film. each frame could be a realistically painted comic book frame; the dialogues would fit freakishly well if they had to fit speech bubbles. the damn scene overlaps and changes are heavily reminiscent of a comic book. better yet: of a Justice League comic book. if you’re familiar with comic book events where big things happen and it affects everyone, this is how this reads

it’s a heavy film but it’s not hopeless. i’ve been seeing reviews pop-up already: “ZS’s Justice League film is twice as longe and twice as hopeless” is the maybe verbatim title of most articles. the one thing i kept thinking throughout these four hours is how much hope this is filled with. we’re dealing with a post-superman world that was shaken by the loss of a beloved superhero and you see batman, the #1 comic book superhero known for brooding and darkness and all things sad and bad, be the loudest, most hopeful person in the film, trying to get a team together to save the world, and later on being two steps from literally screaming that bringing back superman is what should happen no matter the cost because of his faith and hope in winning. did we watch the same film?

in the same vein, the 4 hours seem like a stretch until you realize each part has an actual purpose that introduces or ties in important aspects related to the film’s one purpose: take down Steppenwolf and Darkseid. i don’t believe any scene was wasted on useless information. it can get tiring in the way watching a shot tv series gets tiring: it does NOT get boring at any point

such wonderful character arcs. seeing each of the team’s personalities and quirks, the way they clash with each other, the way it makes it all work so goddamn beautifully. the way they click because they just keep interacting so much? Whedon’s cut didn’t give me a team, it gave me five different people in costume that were forced to sort of work in the same vicinity as each other. Snyder’s cut gave me a version of the Justice League that worked so flawlessly together by the end of the film it felt like a dance. felt like comic book page spreads

right before the epilogue they all pose together in the rising dawn, clark included, having won. super reminiscent of the JL cartoon intro. i cried a bit

J’ONN J’ONZZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DO YOU KNOW THE AMOUNT OF SPECULATION ABOUT GENERAL SWANWICK BEING THE MARTIAN MANHUNTER BACK WHEN MAN OF STEEL WAS RELEASED???? VINDICATED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

listen to me. i need to make this clear. listen.  j’onn. j’onny boy. the way he’s designed and cgi’d..........the adorable frown............the kind smile......................his obvious need to make others feel better and to simply help......................i love him

his interaction with bruce only comes in the end and it’s super brief but seeing those two still not know how the hell each other works even in film format is hilarious. bruce having accepted aliens and magic and shit is the new norm after like 20 years of only having to deal with the joker attempting to rob neon green hair dyes or some shit is so much bigger of a character development than i ever expected, especially coming from BvS where he’s just a stupid fat-bat-carrying onion

i wasn’t a big fan of Suicide Squad’s joker portrayal but we get to see him at the end of the film while we’re seeing a possible future where lois lane has died and superman is best friends with darkseid playing tic-tac-antilife equation. Snyder somehow managed to turn jared leto into a disgustingly legit comic-faithful joker. dont’ ask me how

in the same scene they mention jason and his death

: - (

we see a few bits of some green lanterns in some scenes, one from the past and one from a possible ultra dark and edgy darkseid future. still convinced bruce simply willingly did not go looking for hal, which, fair

they cut out the fish joke bruce tells arthur when they first meet which immediately turns the whole film into a 1/10 for me

ben affleck’s bruce wayne and batman continue being my favorite on-screen batman iteration to date. we finally move from the usual dark lone soldier version Hollywood is relentlessly giving us into one that belongs with the Justice League. incredibly heartwarming to see

there’s a scene when the JL are first assaulting Steppenwolf’s base and they’re all fighting parademons and shit and there’s a moment where you see batman fighting the Space SWAT From Hell alone and the way he moves? the way he flows from one position to another and another like i’m watching a damn comic book animation????????? sir????????????????????

barry allen saved them

like, literally, barry allen saved them. superman was back and everyone was ready to dance one final time and they were all going ‘steppenwolf fucking SUCKS’ and steppenwolf was crying to darkseid and then the motherboxes did their thing and they all were obliterated into star dust and then barry allen was like ‘bitch i told you i need FRIENDS’ and turned back time and now they’re all okay again :o)

darkseid @ batman through his magic spacetime portal: i’m gonna get your ass one day soon and take you back in time and you’re gonna eventually bring about the end of the world by having every dark twisted batman invade your universe because you inspired them

batman:

batman:

batman: i haven’t read Rebirth bro

i know i’m forgetting stuff but that’s the gist. hands down one of the best comic book film experiences i’ve ever had. with an aside to barry allen being more of a mix of barry and wally, everyone feels incredibly faithful to the source material. also batman definitely killed like, at least 400 parademons in one night, but pest control doesn’t count

(like. he straight up obliterates them)

(pulls out a batbazuka on them)

(amazing)

#Anonymous #asks #zack snyder's justice league #zack snyder's justice league spoilers #JL spoilers #justice league spoilers #/ long post

[starilicious]

der lagi lekin (hunter x force-user!gn! reader + ep. 8 fix-it)

》 summary: tbb episode 8 fix-it featuring a force-user reader who used to be a jedi. reader is a part of tbb and in a relationship with hunter, but the squad–nor hunter–knows that reader is a force-user. (disclaimer: all of this was written before episode 9 was released! see a/n for an explanation ^_^) (another disclaimer: if you want just the hunter x reader comfort, please let me know and i'll finish it up and post it!)

》 word count: ~8k (yeah, it's a lot LOL)

click here to read on AO3

》 warnings: in-universe swearing, mental breakdown, some slight sensory overloads, pretty mild panic attack, light canon-typical violence, angst + some comfort, survivor's guilt from surviving order 66, no use of y/n, slightly plot heavy because i got way too carried away in writing (whoops?) [if i should add more warnings, please let me know!]

》 spoilers: major ones for tbb episode 8 "reunion"

》 a/n: okay look, i gotta confess: this wasn’t supposed to be an episode 8 fix-it. really. i’m actually glad cad bane won because we get to see that the clones don’t always win every fight... i think it makes for a better and more complex story. anyway, i started out writing just reader and hunter comfort after episode 8 ended. but i’m weak for omega because she reminds me so much of my younger siblings and i ended up writing a wholeass fix-it to save her (even tho cad bane is a downright badass). i kind of liked what i did with building up the plot so much that i might continue this story of force-user!reader with tbb. but that’s a tangent we can deal with later. if you would like a part two with the hunter x reader comfort this was originally intended to be, let me know!

as i said in the summary, i wrote all of this before episode 9 came out–just be aware of that. because it’s so long, it took me a while to edit, which is why i’m posting after ep. 9 was released. but without further ado, i hope you like it! <33

》 misc. notes:

• title of the fic is from the hindi song "der lagi lekin" from the film zindagi na milegi dobara. i linked the song in blue and linked the english translations in green in case you're curious! it's not necessary to listen or understand the song, but i thought it went well with the fic :)

“Everybody get down!” Wrecker yells. You and the squad immediately do as he instructs, diving towards the ground and covering your head. Stars, I hope this works.

The charges the six of you placed around the gigantic cone that surrounds the core cylinder explodes in a deafening blast. You curl into the tightest ball you can manage, breathing so hard that the HUD inside your helmet temporarily fogs up. Metal shards of the explosion rain down on you hard.

For a moment, it seems like nothing happened. But then you hear the telltale, ear-grinding creak of the durasteel and the squad is roughly catapulted forward from the force of the cone beginning to fall down.

You struggle to stand up as you lurch this way and that, trying to regain your balance and stabilize as Tech calls out, “Hold on!”

You quickly glance at the rest of the Bad Batch, trying to see if any of them were hurt. Other than the absolutely terrified look on Omega’s face, all is well considering the circumstances. The metal groans and begins its descent, taking your feeling of being grounded with it. The weightlessness is uncomfortably familiar to say the least, but you ignore it as the six of you scramble to hold on to the side of the cone. You certainly did your fair share of acrobatics back in the war, but feeling it hum around you...it’s too much. It’s too much. You elect to push it back into the depths of your brain. But it doesn’t leave.

It never really does.

Omega’s anxious whimpers come in faintly through your thick helmet and you whip around, frantically trying to find where she is. But before you can find her, the cone lands vertically on its head and the force is so violent that your stable hold on the durasteel is broken. Panicked, you quickly fire a grappling hook towards the ledge where you were previously hanging on. The hook catches and you stop abruptly, the jerky movement almost wrenching your arm out of its socket.

You look down to see Omega falling from someone’s grip and into Hunter’s arms. You can barely tell where anyone is thanks to the lack of light and the incessant motion.

The cone begins to topple onto its side and suddenly, your wire snaps from the tension. You let out a scream of surprise as you plummet downwards, wind rushing past your helmet. ForceIdon’twanttodieohmyMakerohno–

But you never hit the ground, instead being flung sideways as the cone tears into two. On trained instinct, you tuck yourself into a ball to try and roll in order to break your fall instead of using it. That time is long gone.

You land with a sickening thud and hiss in pain as your back hits the metal hard. You hear something crack, but whether it is your armor or something internal, you have absolutely no idea, and don’t have time to check before you black out.

✧✦✧

You jolt awake, a sound making its way into your consciousness. Finally, the damn place stopped moving. You take a few minutes to try and relieve the painful pressure in your chest, reaching up to rip your helmet off because you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe.

You tilt your head back as you struggle to take in air and let the adrenaline subside. You hear voices in the distance and you strain your ears to pick up on the sound as you quickly check yourself over. As far as you can tell, nothing major is broken, and at this point, that is all that matters. Though, your head is pounding, and for more reasons than one

“–nter.. port side... what… status?”

You can’t tell who is speaking, the message too far away for you to hear. But the bits and pieces are enough for you to know that it’s someone from the Bad Batch and that you weren’t unconscious for long. You stand up and dust yourself off before slowly walking to where you believe the origin of the sound is.

“–engine… got company.” A blaster sound and then an explosion rings through the quiet.

Your eyes widen and you quickly pick up the pace, getting your blaster ready as you pick your way through the sharp metal that is jutting out from the ground.

You click on your wrist comm. “Echo, you there?” A faint crackle before his voice comes through, but the signal is scratchy. You frown in frustration.

“–are you? Hunter is... port side,” Echo says and you smack your commlink to try and get the electronics to work, but it’s no use. The device is broken, most likely from the fall, you deduce.

“Meet… Marauder.”

You don’t bother to answer, knowing Echo would probably not even be able to hear what you had to say anyway. Without a signal booster or repeater, there’s no way you can get your transmission across the channel frequency.

It takes a few minutes, but you eventually find the night sky of Bracca blinking down at you at the end of the ripped off cone. You run out to find that you’re in the middle of where the cone broke in half. Okay, new plan. I need to find Hunter. Hunter will know what to do.

You scan your surroundings. The HUD isn’t picking up on any lifeforms near you, and you realize with sinking dread that you have no more options. Whichever piece you climbed through to get to your squadmates, it would take too long for you to search for them since you don’t know their coordinates and your comm isn’t working. Frankly, the Empire–Crosshair–would find you first. You have to use it.

You have to use the Force.

A wave of nausea overcomes you at the mere thought of it and you sway. In an attempt to ground yourself, you tear off your helmet to breathe some fresh air and end up keeling over as the bile rises in your throat. Nothing comes out. You can’t tell if that’s a positive or not.

You could have saved them. Someone. Anyone.

It itches at you in the back of your head, wishing to be let out of its cage. But you can’t. You can’t do it. What’s the use anyway? All you would be doing is saving yourself. The choice of surviving it all has haunted you ever since. Your head pounds in agony.

You saw it happen. You could have helped them. And you ran like a coward. Only ever concerned about yourself.

You inhale sharply as the scene flashes before your eyes, clones shooting at you and the other Jedi. The blaster fire. The confusion. The screams.

How pathetic.

The last statement, an echo of Crosshair’s words, bounces around in your brain. You clutch your head as you let out a heartbroken sob, knee deep in the dirt and metal and grief. Tears create clean tracks down your face as you finally break down, the flood of emotions bursting the dam open. At this point, you don’t know if the emotions are yours or the ones you previously felt through the Force, all of them swirling and blending into one. The bottled up anguish merged together when you attempted to cut yourself off from the Force after the clones–your friends–attacked.

The pain of their death is perhaps the worst of all. Horror courses through you as you finally process your friends and mentors dying around the galaxy, their deaths, their distress, their fear reverberating heavily throughout the Force. Each one cripples you further as you once again struggle to breathe.

It feels like light years pass when you finally calm down to a practically numb state of being. The scenes stop replaying behind your closed eyelids and the echoing shrieks die down to a faint, hollow whisper. You’re suddenly exhausted, limbs heavy and energy sapped. It was almost relieving to finally let the Force once again flow through your body, your nerves lightly tingling with potential despite how tired you feel. You collapse onto the ground and try to recenter yourself.

But despite finally acknowledging the loss, it doesn’t feel right. You didn’t get to say goodbye. You hadn’t been able to even think about them, much less honor them, too focused on going on the run to concentrate on anything beyond the next day’s survival. Even once you joined the Bad Batch, you were paranoid about their chips, about your friends turning on you at any moment. You were always extremely reluctant to engage in the Force, even at the worst of times.

With a start, you realize that you don’t need to worry about your squadmates. Their inhibitor chips are now gone. You… you are safe.

You let out a shocked laugh as it sinks in. A glimmer of hope, of peace. I’m safe.

You sit up then, criss-crossing your legs as you survey the broken landscape of Bracca. Despite the planet being a graveyard, you feel lucidly alive. Perhaps something died in you, that wretched day. But something else, slowly but surely, began growing in its place. It’s meek, but it’s there.

You let out a breath and close your eyes, reaching for the Force like it’s an old friend. It accepts your invitation with hesitation, joining hands with you as if you did not try beating it to death for days on end. You sink into the gentle lapping waves of the Force, extending into it and widening your scope.

There’s something that lurks beneath the surface, in the deep. Dark and sinister and so utterly painful. It calls to you, quiet and low. Enticing. Tempting. And something in you knows that it’s the reason for your previous life’s demise.

But you can feel Hunter’s–and Omega’s, you realize–presence near you in the Force. Even with your relatively damaged connection to the Force after Order 66, the Bad Batch’s Force auras were something you could always hone in on. You let yourself direct your focus to the duo, letting their emotions be your beacon to the acceptance of the Light side of the Force.

In a split second, you decide to not dive deeper into the Force. This isn’t the place nor the time to discover what is prowling in the endless yawning of the Force, to discover why everything happened. So you direct your concentration to the beings on the planet, feeling and breathing your way through the Life Force.

You freeze. There’s something here. No… someone. Your eyebrows furrow as you divert your attention away from your friends and other organisms to the peculiar source. Something about this person strikes you as familiar.

Your eyes snap open and you gasp. I’m not alone. A Force-sensitive. Someone survived. Giddy beyond belief, you snatch up your helmet and begin trekking your way across the wreckage in the opposite direction of Hunter and Omega before pausing. Whoever this person is doesn’t know about your presence on the planet.

And despite the fear you felt emanating off of them in the Force, you somehow knew they were safe, at least for now. And they would remain so if you have anything to say about it. Maker forbid anything that jeopardizes this person’s fragile safety. After all, you know best what it’s like to constantly flee scene after scene.

Staying away is the best thing to do. I’ll come back for you, whoever you are.

You double back and make quick work of getting across the debris as you focus your concentration on Hunter’s and Omega’s Force signatures. As you get closer to the port side, you hear Omega’s high voice. Through your HUD, you can see her small form. You grin. She disappears then, and on closer inspection, you figure she jumped through some broken cargo doors.

The entrance she and Hunter took is too high for you to jump up to, even with the aid of the Force. Combined with your wariness of probe droids, you decide to take a different route from the right side, climbing up the broken ship. The slick oil mixed with the water still present on the metal makes for a difficult trek, and you slip more times than you would like to admit.

Hunter’s gruff voice floats up towards you and you scramble the last few meters to the edge of a hole in the ceiling before pausing. The Force is itching at the back of your head. Something’s wrong.

You peek over the edge of the giant slab of durasteel that created the hole to see bodies in white armor littered everywhere–clones, you realize. Your heart pangs in sadness at the sight.

Slightly to your right, a blue figure and a techno-service droid stand in front of a ship and a frightened Omega stands behind a defensive Hunter. Your mouth drops open. Kriff.

Cad Bane.

A memory from near the beginning of the war hits you in full force. You and Anakin had taken some time on Coruscant to catch up with each other after you passed your trials and were promoted to Jedi Knight. He told you about a mission where he had to stop a bounty hunter who successfully stole a Jedi holocron. You remember how surprised you were when you heard the bitter disgust in Anakin’s voice. The ruthlessly cunning bounty hunter not only threatened to kill Ahsoka, but he murdered Master Ropal.

Judging by the looks of it, Hunter doesn’t know who he is. If the Anakin Skywalker had a difficult time with Cad Bane, there is no way in sithhell Hunter can take him on, even with his enhanced senses. Frankly, you seriously doubt you can either, especially with how rusty your Force skills are now. And that means this isn’t going to end well.

You watch carefully as you tune into the conversation.

“Ain’t you smart?” Bane smirks. “The kid’s got it all figured it out.”

“You’re in trouble now!” the droid exclaims, pointing at Hunter and Omega. You grit your teeth in annoyance.

“Who hired you?” Hunter asks. Stalling. Not a bad move, Hunter.

“Son,” Bane sighs, already done with the brief conversation. “That’s confidential information. Now hand her over.”

Omega stays behind Hunter, taking a knee as Hunter walks forward protectively. You bristle. How am I supposed to help from up here?

“She’s not going anywhere.”

Your eyes drift over the scene in a panic and you take in the fallen clones again. An idea pops into your head. It is desperate, but at this point, you don’t have much of a choice.

Bane mimics Hunter’s movement, walking forward and putting a hand near his belt. The tension is as thick as duracrete.

“That’s unfortunate… for you.”

You grab the long barrel piece from your belt, fitting it over your blaster hurriedly as the showdown begins. Out of the corner of your eye, you see them staring each other down and you can’t help but roll your eyes. Men.

During the war, Crosshair helped you re-engineer your weapon so you could put together various pieces in the field to make a blaster gun that loosely resembled his own sniper. Seeing the clones reminded you of him. A wave of sadness washes over you, but you shake your head. Now is not the time.

You screw on the telescopic sight and set up your makeshift sniper. You peer through the viewfinder and find Bane’s chest. Your finger tenses over the trigger.

You let yourself sink deep into the Force, let it guide your actions. Inhale. Exhale. I can do this. As you relax, the mellow warmth you missed so dearly washes over you, gently eroding the torment in your mind and heart, guiding your focus to the here and now. Trust in the Force.

Wait.

Wait.

Now.

You fire two bolts straight into your target the same exact moment Bane and Hunter shoot each other. Hunter’s shot hits the droid, breaking off its leg. Bane’s shot hits directly in Hunter’s chest, as yours did Bane. Both men immediately fall backwards and slam into the ground.

“My booster!” Oh. So not a leg. Got it.

“Hunter!”

Kriff kriff kriff. You jump down nimbly from your hiding spot in the ceiling and immediately sprint towards the duo. Is he dead? You would unapologetically release sithhell on Bane if he killed the man you love.

Omega panics as she tries to wake Hunter up, continuously calling his name before taking a glimpse of her surroundings. Before you can react, she grabs her bow and pulls it taut, aiming at you. She looks petrified.

“Whoa! Omega, it’s me!” you exclaim, holding your hands up in surrender. She takes a moment to actually look at you before sagging in relief. Suddenly, the droid comes speeding out of nowhere and Omega shoots, the energy bolt whizzing past your waist and straight into the droid before it can attack you from behind.

The shot rings true and the grumpy robot falls. You turn around to grab at its exposed parts under its head and yank them out to make sure it can’t power on again.

“Thanks, Omega. I owe you one,” you say and Omega gives you a proud smile.

You place a comforting hand on her shoulder before kneeling down to shake Hunter awake, but it doesn’t work. You take a moment to analyse Hunter’s Life Force. It’s a bit dimmer, but it’s constant, meaning he’s out cold and doesn’t have the life draining out of him. You let out a sigh of relief. He’s alive. You glance back to see Bane still not moving. Good.

“What’re we gonna do?” Omega whispers as you both peer down at Hunter. His armor is smoking from Bane’s blaster shot and you exhale through your teeth, trying to come up with a plan. You slip off a glove to check Hunter’s pulse–it’s strong. You don’t want to leave Omega alone, even if Bane is unconscious, but you aren’t sure you have a choice.

“Well we can’t carry him to safety, neither of us are strong enough for that,” you think aloud, gears churning in your head. You would have to wait for help, even if you were sitting ducks.

Briefly, you entertain the thought of taking Bane’s ship. The only problem is you don’t know what trackers or other gadgets are in there–it’s too costly of a risk and a price you weren’t willing to pay. You sigh, resigned.

“Omega, you try to comm the others and see if you can wake Hunter up. I’m going to go inside this guy’s ship and see if I can find something that can help us. We have to get out of here before the bounty hunter wakes up,” you instruct and Omega nods, youthful determination flooding back into her eyes.

You leave her to it, walking cautiously towards Bane’s ship. You look down at him. His armor is smoking in two places from the shots you fired. Based on what you see, he’s still unconscious, and his Life Force reflects the same conclusion. How long that would remain, you don’t know. Which means you need to work fast.

You board the ship while you remove the sniper attachments from your blaster and clip them back onto your belt. You keep your guard up as you look around. No droids. Guess that techno-service droid is his one and only.

In an effort to slowly re-familiarize yourself with the Force, you send out a quick pulse through it to see if there are any lifeforms aboard the ship, relaxing when you find none. You rummage through all the cabinets that you discover, looking high and low as you try to locate something of use. The secret compartment in the cockpit proves to be the fruitful reward to your search. With a wave of your hand, you unlock it with ease. Bingo.

Credits. Bags of them. And they’re unmarked creds, which make your score even better. Hopefully, it would be enough to pay off your debt to Cid and give the Havoc Marauder some much-needed upgrades.

Usually, you would feel bad about stealing from someone, but considering this was a bounty hunter – Cad Bane, no less – you figure you can risk treading the grey area of your moral code.

You grab as many bags as you’re able, stuffing them inside your backpack and clipping the rest onto your belt. At this moment, you’re incredibly grateful to Tech and Echo for designing a sturdy utility belt that fits you well. The standard ones were for clones and you definitely were not a clone.

You exit the cockpit and head to the second level of the ship to see if there’s anything else you can find. A stack of crates sits in the corner across from what you assume to be a prison. You scrunch your nose in disgust as you open one to find medical supplies. Bacta patches and gel, vitapaste, rations, water, gloves, sanitary napkins–it was all there. Delighted, you close the crate and click the repulsor to make it levitate. Oh how you love technology.

You turn around and walk back up the stairs to leave the ship. You freeze at the exit ramp. You have got to be karking kidding me.

“Sorry lil’ lady.”

Cad Bane stuns Omega in front of your eyes before rounding on you and immediately fires. In a desperate attempt to save yourself, you throw your hands up and the honeyed power of the Force rushes through every fibre of your being. The blaster bolts slow down to a snail-like crawl and your eyes widen. How did I…?

Never mind how you argue with yourself. Time to get out of here!

You tiptoe around each bolt, the effort of keeping them in stasis becoming more difficult with each passing moment. You grit your teeth as your arms shake, but you keep going until you are finally off the ramp. You lower your arms and the energy hits the inside of the ship, spazzing out the blinking controls inside.

Bane turns to you in surprise, astonished at how you’re suddenly in front of him. You don’t give him the luxury of processing the event and immediately punch him in the face with as much strength as you can muster. Bane pitches backwards and collapses onto the ground, just as he did the first time. You grab your stun blaster and shoot him as extra assurance. You really did not want this to repeat again. Hopefully he never wakes up with a memory of what I just did...

“Now stay down,” you mutter to a knocked out Bane, cradling your now injured hand. You have no idea how Wrecker ever does this because wow your hand is killing you.

You have to say, you’re pretty proud of yourself for being able to render him unconscious not once, but two times. You wish you could tell Anakin–the thought saddens you. He’s probably dead too.

With that vividly cheery thought, you stagger back from the ramp in exhaustion, weary from the sudden surge of the Force still ebbing and coursing through your body.

None of the Bad Batch knew you used to be a Jedi–not even Hunter. It was something only a few of your closest Jedi friends and the Jedi Council knew about.

But after what happened today, with Rex helping your squadmates get their inhibitor chips out, with you finally letting the Force in… maybe it is time to tell them. The secrecy wouldn’t be needed anymore now that you were sure you were safe around your friends. But clearly, the universe wanted to throw a nasty vibroblade in your plans by knocking Hunter and Omega unconscious and having the best kriffing bounty hunter in the galaxy be hot on your heels.

You take a few seconds to get your breath back and regain your mental energy. You aren’t out of the woods yet. You run inside Bane’s ship to grab the crate of medical supplies before sprinting back out towards Hunter and Omega.

You lean down and pat Omega’s cheek gently, trying to wake her up, but she’s out cold. Why is everyone around me unconscious? Frankly, you’re equally amused and terrified by the situation laid out in front of you.

You sigh, looking around to see if you can find some cover. There’s a giant sheet of durasteel to your left, big enough to act as a barrier in case trouble comes knocking. You bend down and pick Omega up before placing her down cautiously, leaning her small body against the metal. You repeat the action with the crate you found.

The third time proves to be much more difficult. Hunter certainly isn’t as muscular as Wrecker, but he sure as sithhell isn’t as light as Omega. You tap your foot nervously, trying to figure out a way for you to lift him. Yes, you could use the Force, but you don’t want to alert the other Force-sensitive on the planet. If they knew about your existence, it could put them in danger, and that was the last thing you wanted.

Giving up, you place your hands underneath Hunter’s armpits and effectively drag him all the way over, propping him up as you did Omega. You cringe at the sound of his armor grating the floor. There are sure to be dirty scuff marks on it now. Sorry Hunter.

Just as you’re about to sit down next to him, heaving deep breaths from the exertion, you pause. A warning is practically blaring in the Force and you tense, urgently trying to figure out the cause.

“Not again,” you mumble under your breath. You can’t handle any more action today. With Hunter and Omega both down, and your extreme fatigue from engaging in the Force, you don’t know how much of a fight you can put up. Not to mention you never trained as a soldier. There was a reason why you left the military planning strategies to the Bad Batch.

You hold your blaster close to your chest as you scan the environment. Bane is immobile and so is the dismantled techno-service droid. So what’s wrong?

Ten nerve-wracking seconds pass before you get your answer. Clone voices waft up to your hiding spot and you bite your cheek in frustration as your head continues to pound. Your headache still hasn’t stopped.

There is no way you can fight them all off, especially if Crosshair is with them. They are too far away for you to get a read on how many there are, and frankly, you’re much too scared to even peek around the durasteel to count.

One of Tech’s previous statements floats through your mind. About three attack shuttles worth.

You can feel your heart thumping wildly in your chest, blood rushing through your ears as anxiety ties your stomach into knots. I can’t do this, I can’t do this, Ican’tdothis.

You take deep breaths, doing your best to clear your mind and focus. You had to do this. There is no other option other than surrendering or dying. No, damnit, you would go down fighting until the Life Force left you.

You peer just past the edge of the metal to see at least twenty clones heading your way. Certainly not ideal, but you bide your time. If you started shooting now, you couldn’t use the element of surprise to your advantage and they would easily overwhelm you. But once they’re close enough, you hope you can at least take a couple out before having to resort to using the Force. It isn’t ideal, but it’s all you have.

Honestly, you don’t know if you could get out of this one alive, much less protect Hunter and Omega too. Maker help me.

It throws you off when they finally come into sight–you see how plain the clones’ armor looked without paint. You never really noticed it before since you were always running for your life in those circumstances. But now that you think about it, you are so used to seeing bright blue or green or yellow that the alabaster white just seems so… odd.

“Looks like a big fight happened here.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. All these men are dead.”

Now.

You whip your body around the metal and immediately begin shooting as fast as you can pull the trigger, trying to make every shot count. The troopers hesitate for just a moment, most likely due to their surprise of you being there. But that second is all you need.

You take out the three men closest to you before jumping back behind the metal as their barrage of fire rains down on you. You do your best to shoot back and manage to take out one more clone, but they’re beginning to gain too much ground too fast. I can do this. I have to do this.

As far as you can tell, Crosshair isn’t with the clones attacking you, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t set up shop somewhere nearby, waiting to shoot you.

You shudder. It’s a chilling thought.

You grab one of your last detonators from your belt and hurl it as far as you can. The rapid beeping rises quickly in pitch before the charge explodes. Anguished cries reverberate throughout the area, and you briefly feel sorry for having to take such drastic measures as you feel their Force signatures dim swiftly. But you don’t have a choice.

Peeking around the corner, you count around eight to ten clones down. Not bad considering the circumstances.

You continue shooting as much as you can but now the troopers are much too close for comfort and you’re feeling overwhelmed. The durasteel you are using for cover isn’t meant to take this kind of damage, and the integrity of your shield is quickly waning as told by the constant creaks and groans. You don’t know what to do. Will we make it?

In your haste of shooting first and panicking later, you don’t notice Hunter groaning, finally waking up. And before you have time to even glance at him, the familiar hum of the Havoc Marauder and its lights shine down on you. Your sag in relief. Looks like Omega was able to comm them after all. Never before have you been so glad to see the beat-up hunk of junk. (You would never say that to Tech though–the Marauder is his baby, his pride and joy.)

Echo, Wrecker, and Tech all race off the ship, guns ablazing. Wrecker and Tech stand guard, serving as cover fire while Echo bends down to help you out.

“Hunter, wake up!” Echo hisses and smacks his helmet lightly. Hunter mumbles in pain as he starts to move, trying to look around as his HUD boots back up. Seriously? Now you wake up? you think sarcastically. But you’re much more relieved at the fact that he has actually woken up.

“What happened? Where’s Omega?” Wrecker bellows, worried.

“She’s right here, I’ve got her!” you shout back at the same time Echo says, “He was shot in the chest plate.”

You pocket your blaster and gather the young girl in your arms with every last bit of strength you have left. You aren’t strong enough to hold her in one arm and shoot with the other. That is much more up Wrecker’s alley.

“We have to get him on board!” Tech exclaims as he helps Echo support Hunter. You pick Omega up in both arms and bolt for the ship as fast as you can while yelling at Tech to grab the crate of supplies.

“Incoming!” Wrecker calls out as a fresh wave of troopers advance towards the six of you. You grunt as you deposit Omega in a chair near the controls before pulling out your blaster and helping Wrecker shoot down the men racing towards you.

“Got him. Tech, fly us out of here!” Echo commands while Wrecker makes a gesture for them to get on the ship faster. Hunter stumbles as he does his best to upright himself.

“Go go go!” Wrecker exclaims. Tech shoves the crate next to Omega’s seat and makes a beeline for the cockpit as you continue shooting, moving to the side to make space for Echo and Hunter to come on board. Wrecker quickly climbs in right after them and the ramp closes shut.

Tech immediately pilots the Havoc Marauder up and away from the scene. You vaguely hear the sound of blaster fire hitting the bottom of the ship while you drop your blaster on the ground and wrench Hunter’s helmet off in a panic. You take his face in your hands as you scan him quickly, trying to figure out if he’s hurt or not.

Hunter bats your hands away. “He... he took Omega,” he says and you shake your head. Wrecker pipes up from behind you to respond.

“Who? Crosshair?”

“The bounty hunter,” Hunter mutters as he rubs a hand over his face. Before Wrecker can answer again, you step in.

“No, he didn’t. I took him down. And no, he’s not dead,” you tack on quickly when you see Echo open his mouth. Echo shakes his head fondly and you just grin at him.

“She’s right here,” Echo says instead, pointing to Omega’s sleeping figure. Hunter turns in surprise to see that his brother is indeed telling the truth.

“How...?” Hunter’s voice trails off. Echo and Wrecker look at you expectantly, and Hunter follows suit. You sigh and take off your helmet, setting it down on the ledge next to the controls. You don’t look at them.

“It’s a long story.”

You don’t have a chance to elaborate any further because Tech walks in, interrupting the conversation.

“I’ve made the jump to hyperspace. There was a cruiser in the atmosphere, but I was able to quietly go past them by disguising our ship as a bounty hunter’s. They didn’t interfere. I put in the coordinates for Ord Mantell. I estimate our time of arrival to be five hours and thirty two minutes,” Tech reports and Hunter nods while you voice your thanks.

“Looks like we got time!” Wrecker says cheerily, pulling out an extra chair. Tech looks to you in confusion.

“Did I miss something significant?” Tech asks, concerned about the information he did not receive as he adjusts his goggles. You shake your head but now, all eyes are back on you.

“She was just about to tell us how she saved Omega,” Hunter supplies helpfully and Tech nods in understanding. He grabs a chair as well and sits down, interested in hearing what you have to say.

You look around the room, realizing you can’t get out of it. You are exhausted and just want to sleep but based on the looks you are getting from the boys, there is no way you can leave without giving a sufficient answer.

You sit down on a chair in between Omega and Echo and begin explaining.

“When the cone fell, it separated. I got knocked out when I hit the ground, but I don’t think I broke anything,” you quickly reassure as Tech grabs a datapad to scan your vitals.

“After I came to, I tried comming Echo, but my commlink was broken – I could only hear bits and pieces of what he said. There were some voices near me so I just followed them and–” you pause, not sure if you should tell them what happened. What you experienced, what you found out. “–I saw Hunter and Omega. The ledge I found was way too high for me to jump to, so I climbed up the side of the wreckage to see them and the bounty hunter facing off,” you say, choosing to leave the detail out. It was too personal. You still needed time.

All of them are listening intently, hanging on to every word you’re saying. Hunter’s gaze on you is heavy and loaded with questions. Tech is still tapping away on the datapad, but you know you have his full attention. Multitasking may not be possible for regular humans, but it definitely was for Tech.

“When I saw the bounty hunter, I knew Hunter wasn’t going to win,” you mumble sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. Hunter winces at your statement and you rush to explain why.

“Hunter, you have to trust that I genuinely don’t doubt your abilities. You are much more of a soldier than I will ever be. But this bounty hunter is one of the best, if not the best in the entire galaxy. He’s gone against the Jedi, and won. Based on what Anakin told me at the beginning of the war, Cad Bane is ruthless. He tortured Master Ropal and killed him. Believe it or not, I think he tried to abduct Chancellor Palpatine. Even Anakin had a difficult time fighting him.”

A tense quiet settles over you all as you mentally revisit your conversation with Anakin, and later with Ahsoka. She told you how it was one of the first times she was genuinely afraid that she was going to die, or at least get hurt very severely.

Echo’s rough voice shakes you out of your reverie. “How do–did you know General Skywalker?” he asks, clearly confused at how you referred to him on a first-name basis. You mentally facepalm yourself. How did I forget he served as part of the 501st? You feel incredibly stupid.

You could make up a lie, of course, but it wouldn’t be worth it. Hunter’s enhanced senses and Tech’s vitals scan could probably pick up on your biological signs, not to mention you would feel terribly guilty about not being honest. I promised myself I would tell them…

You blow out a nervous breath, deciding to at least give them something. They deserved that much.

“I’m–well, I was a Jedi,” you admit, staring down at your feet. You can’t bring yourself to look at them, feeling almost… ashamed.

The boys are shocked into silence and you cringe. There was probably a much better way for you to say that, but now it was out there. Yet the pressure that had been weighing down on you since you let the Force back in didn’t lessen.

“What?” Wrecker questions, thrown completely for a loop. “You’re a Jedi?”

Before you can answer, Tech pipes up. “When I reviewed your medical data, there was no note about an elevated midi-chlorian count or any sort of connection to the Force. Additionally, there is no documentation of you serving as a General or a Commander during the war in the Republic military records. How were you a Jedi? And why aren’t you one now? You used past tense in your sentence,” Tech adjusts his goggles as he attempts to register this new information that conflicted with his previous knowledge.

You sigh, drumming your fingers on your thigh. “I left the Jedi Order before the war ended. I promise I’ll explain everything in detail later, but for now, you have to understand that I’m just a Force-user. I trained as a Jedi, but I’m not a Jedi, not anymore,” you clarify, lifting your head up to make eye contact with each of them.

“Aw man, that’s so cool. You have to show us your cool mind tricks sometime!” Wrecker smiles and you agree to his request. It warms your heart to see him so excited.

“It makes sense. You must have seen the regs turn on the Jedi but didn’t know why. When you started traveling with us, you didn’t know if we would turn on you too, even though we’re not regs,” Hunter realizes, and you nod in affirmation. You’re secretly relieved by the fact that he doesn’t seem angry, just… just thoughtful.

“And then when I saw what happened to Crosshair, I knew I couldn’t risk ever telling any of you. But when Rex told us about the chips…” you trail off.

Echo picks up your sentence quickly. “You figured out you would be safe with us if we got our chips removed. No wonder you were so insistent on following what Rex said.”

You smile at the last part, a bit embarrassed. He wasn’t wrong. You were probably even more insistent than Rex was on telling them to get their inhibitor chips out. Better to be safe than sorry you told them. Though at the time, you hadn’t even thought about how removing their chips would impact you and your abilities. You were too focused on keeping the Force out of your body to entertain that thought.

Wrecker suddenly gets up and gathers you in a bone-crushing hug. “Well you don’t have to worry now! We got those stupid chips out of our heads, which means I promise we won’t kill you!” he says cheerfully and you can’t help but laugh as you hug him back, the knot in your chest beginning to unravel. You could always count on Wrecker’s wonderfully big heart to raise your spirits.

“You’re right, big guy. It’s honestly a relief. One less thing I have to worry about.”

Wrecker lets go of you and you pick up where you left off. “As I was saying, Cad Bane isn’t a bounty hunter we can take lightly. Crosshair helped me re-engineer my blaster to turn it into a pseudo sniper with attachable parts during the war. Because I was so high up, I could get a clear shot of Bane. From that vantage point, I shot him at the same time Hunter and Bane shot each other.”

Echo’s mouth drops open. “Damn.”

“What I didn’t expect was for Hunter to be rendered completely unconscious. So I told Omega to try to comm you guys while I went on Bane’s ship to see if I could find anything. And I did.” You pull off your backpack and dump out the contents. Bags of credits come tumbling out. You unhook the few bags on your belt and toss them into the pile.

“Bane had a secret compartment with a lot of credits. So I took them and that crate I yelled at Tech to get,” you explain as you reach into the bag to show off the Imperial credits.

Tech’s eyes widen as he lifts up a bag to inspect it. “I will have to calculate how much you took and mark it in the inventory, but based on my initial deduction, this may be enough for us to upgrade the Marauder and provide sustenance for at least a few months.”

“Nice one!” Wrecker compliments and you grin in response. “What’s in the crate?” he asks, walking over to lift up the top.

“Medical supplies. We barely had any left so I figured I might as well take that too,” you shrug as Hunter gets up to join Wrecker to peer at the contents.

“What happened after that? You said you told Omega to comm the others, which means she was awake. Did she get hurt while I was out? Is that why you look so exhausted?” Hunter inquires, astute as ever.

You bite your lower lip. “When I was getting off his ship with the goods, he had woken up again. Before I could do anything, he stunned Omega and then immediately shot at me,” you pause, wondering if you should elaborate on how you got out of the situation. You decide to come clean on this part.

“I… I don’t know how, but I was able to stop the blaster bolts and keep them – and Bane – in stasis with the Force. The problem was that it took a lot out of me. After not really using the Force for so long, my energy reserves were pretty much gone,” you sigh, absentmindedly rubbing your arms. Your muscles are still sore from the event.

“After that, I punched him and knocked him out again. I dragged you and Omega away from the ship so that I could protect you, and I ended up using that giant piece of durasteel as cover to fight off those clones. Then you guys came and rescued us and that’s that,” you finish, suddenly fatigued from the conversation. You slump back into your chair, perfect posture be damned.

“Wow,” is all Echo says, surprised by your strength. It took some serious stamina to be able to withstand so much for so long. Echo remembered seeing Commander Tano and General Skywalker be exhausted after some especially intense missions where they constantly had to use the Force.

“Yeah,” you mutter, massaging your dominant hand. It is still throbbing from the mean hook you threw at Bane. You don’t have any regrets. You glance at Omega’s sleeping figure and soften. The things I would do for this girl.

“Looks like I taught you well!” Wrecker laughs and you smile. When you first met the Bad Batch, Wrecker took it upon himself to teach you basic self-defense and how to overtake an opponent intelligently. Even though you already learned how to fight as part of your Jedi and military training, you couldn’t say no to him when he looked so excited. But it paid off because he’s right. Wrecker did teach you well.

“You did. You basically saved my ass out there with your amazing teaching skills,” you chuckle, glancing down at your hand. You think you’ll probably have to cover it in bacta gel to speed up the healing process before having yet another realization. (You seem to be having a lot of those today.)

I can just Force-heal. Before, you couldn’t Force-heal because it would look suspicious if something healed too fast. But now that they know, you don’t have to solely depend on medical supplies anymore.

Tech, as always, is right on cue. “Is your hand alright? For you to render Bane unconscious must have been no easy feat. Not to mention that according to the medscan I just took, you have a mild concussion, most likely due to your fall. I can run a medical diagnostic test to start and then run more specific tests to combat your pain...” Tech mutters the last part to himself, brain running light years faster than his mouth as his fingers fly over the datapad.

You debate it for a moment before nodding. “That would be great, Tech–thanks. But right now, I’m exhausted, so I’m going to go and crash in my bunk. Wake me up if I need to punch someone again,” you joke before shuffling away from your squadmates. You ruffle Omega’s hair affectionately as you pass by her and pick up your blaster from the ground before climbing down the ladder. You don’t notice Hunter’s troubled gaze or how his Force signature sours a bit as you leave.

You quickly clean up and throw on some bacta patches on a few nasty bruises. You sit down on your bed and pull the privacy curtain before deciding to open up your secret compartment next to your mattress. You stare down at the objects, the only things you have left as a reminder of the past. You reach down for one of them, about to touch it when you stop.

You shake your head and shut the drawer. Deciding to finally, finally hit the hay, you’re out like a light as soon as your head hits the pillow. Dealing with the Force and healing yourself could be done later. Not even your constant pain and crippling worry about your family friends could keep you up any longer.

please consider reblogging! it really helps me and is super encouraging ^_^

#the bad batch #bad batch #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch x you #star wars tbb #tbb #tbb hunter #tbb echo #tbb wrecker #tbb tech #tbb crosshair #star wars fic #starwars x reader #clone x you #clone x reader #hunter x reader #echo #omega #crosshair #hunter #tech #wrecker #im sorry for the amount of times i said please let me know in the beginning notes LOL #i hope u guys liked it #i spent way too much time on this hehe...whoops #i can't decide if i should continue the hunter x reader comfort wip so if u want it... #say it with me kids... #please let me know!

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Chucky

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

Look, I could sit here and try to come up with some smart, witty lead up to who we’re talking about today, but really, why bother?

Now before you grab your pitchforks, I mean that in an affectionate way. Chucky, real name Charles Lee Ray, is one of horror’s most prevalent icons, and this is despite the fact that he gets so little respect compared to other slasher icons of his time. I guess when you’re shorter than a six year old boy, you’re gonna end up standing in the shadows of the taller killers like Freddy, Jason, Meyers, and Pinhead. But, quite frankly, Chucky deserves respect.

Motivation/Goals: Chucky really wants his body back, because I imagine being a serial killer is pretty difficult when you’re a killer doll… Except, no, it’s really not, this dude amasses gigantic body counts all while gaslighting everyone around him by pretending to be a harmless toy, why the hell does he want to go back to being a greasy human serial killer? Well, the answer to that is simple: His girlfriend is Jennifer Tilly. If your girlfriend was Jennifer Tilly, and you were stuck in a plastic body that wasn’t anatomically correct, you’d probably go on a homicidal rampage and use Hollywood voodoo to get yourself a penis too.

Performance: Brad Dourif has been playing Chucky since the first film (except for that one time he was played by Mark Hamill, but that doesn’t count), and really there is just no one better suited. He makes Chucky sound like a really nasty, sleazy bastard, which is all the more jarring coming from the ‘cute’ Good Guy doll that it becomes equal parts creepy and hilarious.

Final Fate: The fun thing about Chucky is that despite him dying over and over and over and over again, he just always comes back! This is par for the course for slasher villains, but with Chucky he never really seems to suffer any hugely notable setbacks. Even more impressive, in Cult he actually manages a big win by possessing the body of protagonist Nica. After all these decades, Chucky finally has a human body again! Hooray!

Best Scene: Chucky’s absurdly Rasputinian deaths in the first two films are amazing for just how much abuse the guy takes before finally going down. Really, both climaxes are fantastic. Also of note is the big reveal of Chucky’s true nature in the original Child’s Play.

Best Quote: As much as I really want to put Chucky with his Jersey accent saying “GENDA FLOOID” while talking about Glen in the 2021 series, I don’t think any quote in his arsenal can quite top the majesty that is the legendary quote from the original Child’s Play:

Final Thoughts & Score: Chucky is honestly one of the most endearing slasher villains out there.

Like, the concept of some killer Cabbage Patch knockoff with the soul of a serial killer grafted inside it with voodoo magic is inherently goofy, and yet he manages to make it work and be genuinely unnerving and terrifying when he wants, especially in the first two films. At the same time, Chucky also manages to slide into comedy with a bit more ease than some of his contemporaries, although he also did not handle it quite as well. Still, the fact is that Chucky works just as well in an absolutely goofy setting like that of Bride or Seed as he does a serious setting, and when they manage to blend things together like in Cult and Curse? Boy does it ever work.

It’s also interesting to note that Chucky seems to actually learn and grow as a character. Slashers like Freddy, Jason, and Meyers do not ever really mature as characters, and that’s fine; we want to see them as unstoppable killing machines. But Chucky manages to sort of grow as a character across the films, and I think it helps make him more well-rounded. For instance, he spends a lot of Bride abusing Tiffany, t the point he kills her and traps her in a doll, and he really screws up their relationship in Seed. But by the time of Curse and Cult, it’s clear he’s stabilized their relationship and that he does genuinely love and value her. Then there’s his relationship with Glen; in Seed, Chucky was totally against their identity, but come the 2021 TV series and he seems genuinely accepting of his “GENDA FLOOID” kid. Like yes, he’s still a psychotic murder doll, but it’s pretty neat to see he’s not static and that he can change while still maintaining his edge.

Chucky is a fun antagonist who I feel never really gets the respect he truly deserves. Like, yes, you’d be hard pressed to find someone who doesn’t recognize him, but you really don’t hear him brought up with the same reverence as, say, Jason Voorhees or Ghostface or Pinhead. This is in spite of Chucky managing to do what very few villains can: Go from an utterly irredeemable hate sink to a laughably evil villain you can love to hate and still be entertaining all the way. For that, I think he deserves a 9/10.

Before we go, let’s briefly touch on Chucky’s partner in crime and love interest, Tiffany Valentine.

Portrayed by Jennifer Tilly, she is the exact spice this series needed after the first three films. It’s honestly to the point where it’s extremely weird to go back and watch earlier movies and see that she isn’t there. What makes her really fun is how she actually seems to have morals and boundaries, while Chucky does not. For instance, she completely and totally accepts Glen’s genderfluidity while Chucky is just violently homophobic. That’s not to say she’s a nice person, because she’s definitely as insane and murderous as Chucky himself, but she has a little bit going for her… but she loses a lot of sympathy in Curse and Cult where she indulges in some truly heinous acts.

Also, it’s really funny that she canonically is Jennifer Tilly now. It’s a long story, don’t ask. I don’t want to talk about Seed more than I have to. Tiffany manages to score a 9/10 as well, because really, do you expect me to award the slasher movie equivalent of Harley Quinn being played by Jennifer Tilly anything less?

#Psycho Analysis #Chucky #Child's Play #Tiffany Valentine #Brad Dourif #Jennifer Tilly

[outerspacesteve]

headcanon #10: steve and bucky’s notebook

[TFATWS EP. 3 SPOILERS]

So... Bucky is using Steve’s notebook, leave me alone to cry, please :’)

Imagine Steve giving him the notebook after Endgame, because there’s finally some peace and quiet, so he suggests to Bucky that he catch up on some of the things he missed since WW2.

And later, when Bucky is flicking through the pages, he stumbles across a note:

“Buck,

If you ever need grounding, if you ever need reminding of who you are, just come here. I know this is an awful thing to think, and that everything you went through was horrific, and I can’t even begin to imagine what it was like, but I’m glad we got to see each other again. 

When I woke from the ice and ran into Times Square, I remember the first thing I thought. It wasn’t confusion, it wasn’t shock or anything like that, no, it was “Bucky would’ve loved this.” It was like something straight out of those sci-fi books you used to read. So, in that sense, I’m happy that you get to see it, that you now have the time, and the peace, to explore.

It’s bittersweet in a sense - they got rid of the old laundromat that was down the road from your ma’s, and the grocery, where you used to sneak some extra food from when Mrs Smith wasn’t looking, that’s gone, too. They replaced it with some modern hipster café thing, I don’t really know, I only went there once. I wouldn’t recommend it though, the coffee wasn’t great. 

But he parks are still fairly similar. I never did find out whether our old apartment was still standing. I didn’t really want to know; felt like finding out they’d replaced it would be like cutting one of the last threads tying me to you, and our old life. 

But I got you back. Can you believe that? You were sent to hell and back, countless times, and yet we still found out way back to each other. That’s some next-level destiny shit, Buck.

You were the one person who always knew me. The real me, not the Captain America bullshit. Just plain old Steve Rogers, the little scrawny kid who you had to constantly check back alleys for, any time you were somewhere without me. You never did care for the whole stars-and-stripes façade, and for that I’m thankful. 

I could write pages and pages of things I’m grateful for, or memories that I treasure, but bottom line is, you were everything to me, Bucky, you are everything to me. I’m not sure what I would’ve done without you. You’re worth so much more than you give yourself credit for. You managed to save my sorry ass more times than I can count. And no matter how many times I told you that I could get by on my own, or that I had them on the ropes, you said you knew, but you stayed anyway. 

Remember in ‘37, and winter had just begun, and I had come down with another bout of pneumonia? It was the first time I was bedridden for weeks on end since my ma died. I remember you doing everything you possibly could to help. Of course I was the most uncooperative son of a bitch on the planet.

I must have been a pain in the ass; coughing all night so you hardly slept a wink and would be dead on your feet the next day at work, being too stubborn to let you help me cool down or warm up, refusing any of the soup you would make me. But none of that ever made you leave my side.

I remember, whenever you weren’t fussing over me, or telling me, “Steve, I swear to god, drink this soup or I’m going to force-feed it to you,” you would be telling me about this new book you’d seen in the shop window on your way to the docks. 

You said it was called The Hobbit. You said it was an adventure book, about a group of dwarves searching for some dragon-guarded treasure. You practically had the blurb memorised! You couldn’t afford to buy it, what with me out of a job, and you spending all your money on food and medicine, but you went to the bookshop every day, just to look at it. You said you tried to read a few pages each time you went, but that Mr Robinson soon caught on and threatened to ban you from the store the next time you left without buying anything. You even checked the library, but it was a new book and they didn’t have it there, either.

You didn’t let me get a new job that winter, said it was better not to risk getting ill again, and that we would be able to figure anything else out. Obviously, I put up a fight, but eventually, you managed to convince me. I did take up a few art commissions, though. And I managed to scrape together enough money to buy you the book for Christmas.

I remember the way your face lit up. Even though our apartment was freezing, and our Christmas tree was tiny, and dying, and all kinds of pathetic, none of that mattered. I was just glad to see you so happy after all the stress that I’d put you through over the last few months. You said you didn’t mind, and you gave me the tightest hug, and said that your present looked kind of meagre compared to the book. It wasn’t, but even if it was, I would have loved it anyway, because it was from you.

You devoured that book within days. I don’t think I ever saw it more than a few feet away from you. The pages yellowed, became worn and thin, the cover faded and creased, but you still carried it around as though it was your prize possession. I was secretly so happy that it was me who had put that smile on your face.

And then the following spring, when I was once again ill and bed-ridden, you would sit by my bedside, and read The Hobbit to me. Even through my fever-induced haze, I could tell how much you loved the book - it shone through into your voice, into the small smile you’d wear when we got to your favourite parts. I don’t remember much of the storyline, but I do remember you. I think I paid more attention to you than to the book itself.

They wrote sequels, you know? And there’s movies now, too. I never did get around to reading or watching them, though. I couldn’t bring myself to do it without you. Felt like that was something I should be doing with you. You should watch them, sometime. Sam says they’re good.

Anyway, I love you, Bucky. Never forget that. None of it was ever your fault, it wasn’t you. But you’re free now, free to do whatever you want, free to be whoever you want to be. And if you don’t believe that, then believe me, at least until you can believe it for yourself. 

Thank you, Bucky. Truly. For everything.

Love, Steve”

And on every few pages, randomly spread throughout the notebook, there’s a little drawing or doodle that Steve has done. Sometimes they’re drawings of memories shared between him and Bucky, sometimes they’re things Steve thinks Bucky would like, and sometimes they’re just completely random things that he felt like drawing. There’s even a cartoon drawing of Sam doing something stupid, and Natasha just stood off to the side, rolling her eyes. 

Bucky loves all of them. But the one he likes best is the drawing of him and Steve on the bench at Coney Island, sat shoulder to shoulder, mouths covered in ice cream, and massive grins on both of their faces.

On the bad days, when his head is too loud and he can’t seem to quiet it, he’ll open the notebook. Sometimes he reads the letter, sometimes he just looks at the pictures. Usually, though, Bucky will open the notebook to one of the lists Steve had written when he came out of the ice, and he’ll watch something that Steve had already crossed out, signifying that he had watched it.

He would imagine what Steve’s reaction to the film or show may be, and what Steve might have thought of it. And sometimes, it really does feel like Steve is right there watching with him.

#back on my stevebucky bullshit #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #avengers endgame #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #captain america #steve rogers #chris evans #winter soldier #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #stucky #stevebucky #steve x bucky #the avengers #avengers #marvel headcanon #marvel headcanons #marvel imagine #avengers headcanon #stucky headcanon #stucky imagine #marvel imagines #avengers headcanons #marvel incorrect quotes #mcu incorrect quotes #stucky fic #mcu imagine

[twdmusicboxmystery]

TWD 11x06: On the Inside - Analysis

Okay, how did everyone like this episode? I loved it! It might be my favorite episode of the season so far. Partly because of all the horror movie vibes and jump scares. I thought that was delightful. And Lauren Ridloff did an amazing job. But more than that, it's because of all the symbolism and what I think this represents. Seriously, I think I might have like fifty-six theories come out of this one episode, LOL. Not brand-new theories, but just connecting symbols in a way I haven't before. For now, let's talk about the broad arcs here and what they mean.

***As always, spoilers abound below for 11x06. Don’t read until you’ve watched! You’ve been warned!***

Basically, we’re following two storylines in this episode. The first is Connie and Virgil. The second is Daryl, Leah, and the Reapers. I suppose you could call Kelly and Carol looking for Connie a third story line, but given that they're searching for Connie, it's really just a subplot of Connie's arc.

Connie and Virgil:

There are a lot of people saying that they might be setting Connie and Virgil up as romantic partners. I think that's probably the case, for a lot of reasons. They were very purposely put together in this house. After the episode, Angela Kang talked about how Virgil basically had to suppress part of his heart in order to get through the death of his family. That's why he seemed a little bit villainous when we first met him with Michonne.

Actually, we're seeing a major theme here that we've seen with other characters. Near the end of the episode, Virgil tells Connie, "I lost myself for a long time." It's very reminiscent of what Michonne said to Carl in 4x14. It's a theme we see where the character goes through some kind of trauma, and the aftermath of that trauma is very much a PTSD thing. They lose themselves to insanity for short time, but then someone is able to bring them back. We see this with many characters over the years. And this is something they're doing with Virgil. So this was Virgil kind of coming back to reality. Michonne gave him the chance to come back first, but he also says that her giving him that second chance led him to Connie and he sees that as Providence.

So basically, A.K. is saying that Virgil lost a big chunk of his heart when his family died, but he's rediscovering it here with Connie. And that's very important. I can't imagine them saying that, or him having this kind of arc, if there isn’t going to be a romance between them. Which, for the record, I think is cute. I totally ship it. (Totally objective over here. As always, of course. ;-))

But the big question is, what does this foreshadow? I'll give you three guesses and the first two don't count.

I think this is a foreshadow of Beth and Daryl. I'm sure you're shocked to your toenails. I'll give you a moment to recover. Good? Okay.

A lot of us got Alone vibes from this episode. Just the two of them in house together. The undercurrent of possible romance between them. There's even a hug at one point.

Actually, the white, plantation style house with the white pillars immediately struck a cord with me. Back when they were filming the missing scenes from S5, they filmed in a house just like this one. it wasn’t the “white cabin” as we always refer to the house Emily was seen going into. But it was next door to that one and had a sign up about not mowing the lawn because it would be used for filming. 

I don’t know if this is actually the same house, but I’m willing to bet that this will end up having parallels to something we see when we finally get those missing scenes.

Once they get inside the house, we see Connie holding the door shut against walkers. It's very reminiscent of Daryl doing that at the funeral home in Alone.

The thing is, I don't even think callbacks to Alone are the big cheese. (For the record, we also saw them around Kelly, but I'll get to that in a minute.)

Because more than being a call back, this is a foreshadow. It represents some time in the future when Beth and Daryl will be together inside the CRM and trying to escape. Remember that “No Exit” sign in Beth’s cell?

We have a situation here where Connie and Virgil are trying to get out and there's literally no exit. All the doors are locked, they’re being trapped everywhere they go, they get separated. Even when Connie is in the wall, looking at Virgil, she wants to warn him of things, but she has no way to get into the room with him. There's literally no exit for her.

There are so many parallels to Beth and Daryl.

They emphasize the fact that Connie is lost. After getting out of the cave and walking around for walkers for so long, she clearly lost her bearings and doesn't know where she is or which way to go to get to Alexandria. It puts me in mind of the scene from 6x10, where Carl was talking to Judith and said if she was ever LOST and needed to find her way HOME, she should use the North Star. This is another way in which Connie is being paralleled to Beth. She's lost and needs to find her way home.

Virgil talks about wanting to get Connie HOME. To get her back to her family (which just so happens to be her sister). Of course there's the undercurrent of romance.

I also couldn't help but notice outlets throughout the episode. This house is very dilapidated and dirty. There's grime and rust and darkness everywhere. But we can very clearly see the outlets on the walls, as though they’re brand-new. I believe that's to draw our attention to them. Outlets suggest power, which suggests lamps or batteries.

Remember how I said that the whole battery theory is about resources and that it indicates the CRM? This is why I think this house represents the CRM. And I'm not at all saying that at some point, we’ll see Beth and Daryl running through a house together, as Connie and Virgil do here, trying to escape some threat. I think this represents a much bigger arc of them being inside the CRM and trying to get out. It will probably span a lot of episodes, maybe even multiple seasons.

At one point, we see a red coda pendant hanging in the window behind Virgil. Remember that, via the Matrix theory, red represents the outside world that TF is currently unaware of, and of course Coda suggests Beth. That’s a big part of the evidence for this template being a foreshadow of Beth and Daryl.

I’ll go over all the background details tomorrow, but pretty much every detail I found suggests what I've laid out here. I'm going to do completely separate post on the awake/asleep theme as well as the mailbox theme. That one stemmed from last week's episode (11x05), but I haven't gotten a chance to post it yet. And of course we saw the mailbox feature prominently in this episode as well.

We also have a situation where Virgil basically tells Connie to go on without him and that it’s very important to him that she gets home. And then he gets stabbed, and she not only saves him, but pulls him out of the house. We’ve always said that we think there will be a time when Beth will save Daryl. I think this is a foreshadow of it.

I think we'll have a situation (again, much bigger than what we see here in the single episode) where Daryl will be willing to sacrifice himself, his life, to get Beth back to Maggie. Of course she's not going to allow him to do that, but he'll probably be hurt very badly.

(And for the record, I think we've seen foreshadows of this and other arcs. Daryl getting hurt when fighting Alpha was probably a foreshadow of the same thing. I'm sure we could identify others.) I think he will be hurt and Beth will save him, and that will happen as they’re figuring out how to get out of the CRM.

To touch on Kelly’s side of things, we see her find a camp that Virgil and Connie had previously been at. She finds Connie’s stuff there, and the orange backpack that Virgil must have left behind. The thing that jumped out at me here is that, in the foreground, we saw ropes around the camp with cans attached as an alert system.

That was featured very prominently in Alone, both because Daryl set up something like that at the funeral home and also because the other half of that episode was about Maggie/Sasha/Bob and they did the same thing in their camp. So again, major callbacks to Alone, and to what this is probably foreshadowing.

But my favorite thing about this was connections that I made. Things that kind of confirm events we’ve suspected in 4B, but have never been able to prove. Let me explain.

First, there’s the reunion between Connie and Kelly. And this really jumped out at me. Not only because it's two sisters reuniting, but because of the way it was shown.

When approaching Connie, Kelly is crying and says, "I'm sorry." And that's out of character or out of place in any way. She’s sorry that for what happened to Connie and that it took them so long to find her. All that is completely understandable. But at the same time, Kelly has no reason to feel bad about what happened to Connie. It wasn't her fault, and she's been a dutiful sister looking for her intensively ever since.

But I think the “I'm sorry” will make a lot more sense if we hear Maggie saying it to Beth, given everything that's happened, and especially what happened in S5. I mean, Beth did get left behind.

The other thing is that when they see each other and then hug, the background music almost sounds angelic, like a choir. I mean, they really wanted this to be a big deal, the reunion between these two sisters. And not that the Kelly and Connie's reunion isn't a big deal. It's very sweet, but I feel like this a foreshadow something much bigger. And what other reunion between sisters could qualify for something like that except Maggie and Beth, who didn't get the reunion in season five?

We’ve always said that Connie was a proxy for Beth, and that the cave-in, followed by her being missing was a parallel to Beth’s arc. So, this arc ending in Connie finding someone she’ll eventually have a romance with and then finding her sister is makes me very hopeful for what we'll see when Beth returns.

I have to say that this is kind of a relief to me. Because of Daryl's line back in Still about how, "you ain't never going to see Maggie again," I’ve gone back and forth about whether Beth and Maggie will actually get a reunion. Yes, there are plenty of ways to explain away that line, and I don't disagree with any of them. But I’ve still been really back-and-forth about whether this is going to happen. After seeing Connie and Kelly really reunite, I have no doubt that eventually will see a Beth/Maggie reunion. Yay!

Next, is the fact that Virgil and Connie talk about how the people living in this house lured them into a trap.

This is talked about very much anymore, but was always but what happened in Alone was always so wonky to me. I know it was supposed to be, but the whole thing felt like it was orchestrated somehow. I mean, what happened to the dog? We hear barking, but we didn't actually see the dog again, because when Daryl open the door all the walkers were on the porch. But how did that many walkers get up to the porch without them hearing it?

When Beth and Daryl sat in the kitchen staring at each other, they heard the cans rattle and then at the dog bark. I think that the idea was that Daryl thought it was the dog moving the cans and that's why he was going to open the door and get it to come in. He didn't understand that there were walkers there. But why didn't they hear the walkers? More importantly, why would that many walkers go up to the door if they couldn't see any humans on the inside? It's completely weird behavior for walkers. And then when Beth leaves the house, she just happens to be picked up by a car?

Like I said, I just always felt like the whole thing was really orchestrated, but even at Grady, we were never told that it was. Gorman suggested to Beth that they happened upon her accidentally. Of course, Gorman is the opposite of trustworthy, but we also understand better now the way that these episodes are often approached. We sometimes see things from one character's point of view over another. Clearly, Slabtown was seen from Beth’s point of view, so if she couldn't see the truth about what happened, that's why we couldn’t neither.

My point is, in this episode, Virgil says that he and Connie were herded there like prey. These feral people apparently went to the camp (Kelly says the left in a hurry and something was very wrong, and I think she's right. Given that Virgil and Connie left all their stuff behind; Connie would not have left behind her slingshot on purpose). Which means the creatures came to their camp, scared them away, chase them toward the house, herding them that way, in order to eat them.

Now, I'm not saying that's specifically what happened in Alone, but I think it kind of proves that what happened was an orchestrated trap that was set up to capture Beth.

And we do get the sense from what Noah told her that Grady purposely left the strong behind and took the weak. So, I'm not sure if Beth and Daryl were actually herded toward the funeral home. From what we saw, it really was more like they happened upon it. But I'm wondering if once there, someone observed them, or observed them approaching, and decided that they would be optimal targets. Given that Beth was injured (which they would have known if they saw Daryl giving her the piggy back) obviously it would always be her that was taken, while Daryl—obviously the more survival-oriented of the two—would be left behind.

And I love this connection because it proves (as far as we can prove theories 😉) that there are things they haven’t shown us, not just in S5 with the missing 17 days, but reaching all the way back to S4.

The other thing that's just kind of cool to consider is that, as I said before, the other half of the episode was about Maggie/Sasha/Bob, right? There are a lot of things that their sequence foreshadows as well. And in the episode, Maggie is specifically looking for Glenn, not Beth. However, given that this episode with Connie and Virgil also featured Kelly, Connie’s sister, looking for her, it just doesn't seem like it could possibly be a coincidence that the other half of Alone was Maggie searching for someone. What I’m saying is that both Alone and this episode, 11x06, foreshadow what will happen when Maggie and Beth reunite. I'm sure I could go into the details of Alone find a lot of connections, but I don't have time to do that right now. Maybe during the hiatus. Maybe. ;-).

Daryl and Leah:

Okay, I guess we need to talk about Daryl and Leah’s part of this episode as well. I don't have as much say about the symbolism for them. This is really more about where this is going.

Daryl tortures Frost, which I'm sure some people are going to have a problem with. But A.K. said that this is really about Daryl wanting to stay on the inside with the Reapers. As I said after ep 4, Frost is smart and he understands what Daryl is doing. A.K. said he did exactly what Daryl wanted to do him to do here. Daryl wanted him to give them a basic location but not an exact one. In other words, to tell them the neighborhood but not the exact house. And that's exactly what Frost did. Angela says Daryl did this because he was trying to save Frost’s life. Unfortunately, by the end of the episode, we see that didn't work out so well. But he was attempting to save him.

You have to watch the details closely to pick this up, but the first house that Daryl, Leah, and Carver go to is not the house Maggie is in. That's why Daryl says they should stick around and look around for things, because he knew Maggie wasn't there and wanted to give her time to escape. But the second house we see them go into is where Maggie and co are hiding under the floorboards.

At first, it seems to be empty, but when Daryl comes downstairs, he sees the place where they might be hiding and slides the rug over it. In the end, Carver sees it and checks, but Maggie and the others have already made their escape.

I had to stop and think about that for a minute. Since Beth wore yellow and we think yellow equals life and escape, I would have thought the yellow house would be where Maggie and the others were hiding and then escaped from. That would've made more logical sense. But actually, the yellow house was a decoy.

It gave me a whole new insight into the meaning behind the color yellow in TWD universe.

I still think yellow represents escape, among other things. But it also represents looking for someone in the wrong place. Even if you think about Rick’s mini death fake out in 7x12, there was probably only 12 feet between where Michonne thought he was (right side of the screen being eaten by walkers) and where he actually was (left side of the screen coming out of the yellow carnival car) but still, she was looking for him in the wrong place and assumed he was dead because of it.

I also thought of the Glenn situation in S4. Maggie looked for him on the school bus (yellow). And in both cases, it was because that’s where Rick/Glenn were last seen, but what was UNSEEN was how they ESCAPED. So, TF was looking for them in the wrong place.

And I’m sure something similar will happen with Beth during the missing 17 days. It doesn’t really change what we believe happened with Beth, but it makes me want to re-examine every yellow reference we’ve ever seen on the show, which is probably hundreds by now, lol.

At one point, Carver is coming down the stairs and Daryl runs over to him and starts talking really fast. He says that they (Maggie’s group) will not to come back here, that it wouldn’t be smart, etc. The first time I watched it, I remember thinking that Daryl was being really obvious. It made him seem nervous and like he was hiding something. And he probably was somewhat nervous. The reason he ran over Carver right then, is because he didn't want Carver to see the hiding place where Maggie and the others were (because Daryl himself noticed it when he was coming down the stairs).

But the other thing to remember is that Daryl knows Maggie and the others are down there. He was using this to give them information. He talks about how the Reapers have walls and weapons, twenty people inside their town, etc. That is also him getting Maggie information so she would know what they're up against. It was actually very smart on his part, even if it kind of tipped Carver off.

By the end, they returned to Pope and find that Frost is dead. I thought it was super weird and creepy that Pope started laughing when Carver said they had lost Maggie's group. That's very out of character for him. Angela Kang said Pope was purposely playing mind games to make Daryl and Leah paranoid, but even so. That laugh was just maniacal.

So, not sure exactly where this is going, or what Pope's plans are. He kind of suggests that maybe Frost turned on Daryl and sold him out before he died. I doubt that's true, but Pope also strikes me as the kind of guy who, if he's decided Daryl is an enemy, doesn't actually need proof of it. So, we'll just have to see where this goes.

Okay, that's it for today. I'll do details tomorrow. How did you all like the episode?

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

[juyeoniemyhoney]

a soulmate who wasn’t meant to be

You love Jungkook. You’ve always known that much. But after living under the same roof for a year, you finally realise that your love for Jungkook is not at all platonic but in all ways romantic. Your feelings only build as another year passes and finally, one grocery run later, you tell him how you feel. Spoiler alert, it doesn’t end well.

-pairing: jeon jungkook x reader 

-genre: angst, just angst all the way.

-warnings: swearing, Jungkook’s a little bit of an ass in this one

-word count: 3775 words

-A/N: hii this is my first time posting on tumblr but i’ve been writing since like 2016 lol. i hope you like this depressing imagine and stay tuned for more imagines that are coming soon. also, i don’t really even like the ending and i feel like i dragged this out wayyyy more than i should have but oh well, i hope you enjoy it anyway. please let me know what you think and feel free to leave feedback so that i can improve!

---------

When you decided to live with your best friend, you should’ve known you were bound to fall in love. 

Flashback to senior year of high school. The two of you had miraculously graduated with incredibly average grades. Jungkook got into university solely because of his outstanding performance on the rugby team and you had gotten in thanks to pure luck. Seriously though, that was a really close shave. Anyway, the decision to live together when the two of you realised that you were going to the same university came as easy as a spring breeze. 

Which thus began the deterioration of your heart. 

Ever since you met Jungkook in your first year of primary school, his big eyes and beaming smile had always tugged at something in your chest. You had never denied this feeling, assuming it was because you love Jungkook, which you did, just platonically. But having to live with Jungkook made you realise that even though you were with him most of the time, you never really wanted to leave his side. 

For years, you had denied any thought that maybe you might be in love with Jungkook. But you had taken every single thought by the throat and stuffed it deep, deep down inside you, into the deepest, darkest corners of your being, forgotten and left to rot. Every single time your heart fluttered when you looked at him, every single time your skin tingled when he touched you, every single time your cheeks blushed when he did something for you, you had stopped yourself from feeling those things, those pesky little butterflies in your stomach because Jungkook is your best friend, nothing more, nothing less. Even though you know that he always meant more to you than you did to him. 

The one thing you dreaded once you realised that you love Jungkook more than a friend, was your monthly grocery run. When the both of you had first bought the flat — which you had only been able to afford thanks to Jungkook’s kind, high-rolling parents — you had both agreed to always go grocery shopping together, no matter what. You’re not really sure how this agreement came about, but at the time, it didn’t really matter to you because Jungkook was just Jungkook then.

But now that Jungkook is Jungkook, your crush, your heart cannot help but swell with how domestic grocery shopping with Jungkook always sounds. 

And grocery shopping with Jungkook is what you are going through right now. 

Right now, a year after realising that you are romantically in love with Jungkook and two years after moving in with your best friend, Jungkook stands next to you in the feminine products aisle, holding a crumpled piece of paper with grocery items carelessly scrawled on it, his other hand on the shopping cart that is a quarter-filled with household items that the two of you need to last until the next month. Despite how this situation is not at all scary, your heart beats like you are hanging precariously over a high ledge, palms clamming up as you nervously ball up the fabric of your shirt. 

“Which one is it?” Your saliva is stuck halfway down your throat when he asks the question, causing you to choke and cough the saliva up. You seriously need to get better at hiding your nervousness around him, if this even counts as hiding it, seeing as how you are literally not being normal, cool, or calm. You mentally face palm yourself for being you. 

“Um, I don’t see it,” you reply as calmly as you can, relaxing a little when you hear that your voice does not waver at all. 

“Here! Isn’t it this one?” Jungkook exclaims suddenly, scaring the absolute shit out of you and causing you to jump up in surprise, letting out a squeak when you see that it is the brand of pads that you use. You shove the thought that Jungkook does pay attention to you and tell yourself that it is because he has to see it on top of the cabinet in your shared bathroom every time he goes into it. He has lived with you for two years, of course he knows what brand you use, you idiot. 

“Yeah, thanks,” you mutter as you throw three packets into the cart before walking off, hands casually locked behind you as you roam the aisles, not sparing Jungkook another glance as he pushes the cart and follows behind you. You refuse to look at Jungkook and have your cheeks heat up again, especially not after he caught you blushing when you first met up with him fifteen minutes ago. 

Despite the fact that Jungkook had gotten into university solely thanks to rugby, he had surprised everyone by deciding to major in film. Though you had been a little surprised, you knew that film, or anything that had to do with a camera for that matter, had always fascinated Jungkook. And now in his third year of university and a certified adult, Jungkook had decided to get a job and stop relying on his parents. A little later than everyone else, but at least he finally decided to stop splurging the monthly allowance he got on cocktail nights at the bar around the corner. The job he got was a good step for Jungkook but a horrible one for you for he had decided to audition for a modelling company. And he got in. 

Which is why you don’t want to even spare him a glance. Because Jungkook had just gotten off work which meant that he had his hair done up, soft strands of light brown styled so that it was out of his eyes, allowing the light to hit his usually hidden, dark brown eyes, turning them a golden brown that reminded you of slow-dripping, melted caramel. And even though all he is wearing is a sky blue shirt and navy slacks, your mind and heart is going absolutely feral at how well they compliment him, high-waisted slacks cinching his waist and loose shirt hanging off of his broad shoulders. You realise that your arms ache to hold him.  

“What’s next on the list?” you ask, derailing your thoughts, as you nonchalantly survey the aisles so that you don’t have to turn around and look at Jungkook, even though you want to. You want to look and never stop. But he can’t know that. 

“Cereal,” he answers, catching up to you so that he is walking next to you, the end of his sleeve brushing the top of your shoulder. You give into your urge to look up at him and immediately, as if someone has punched you right in the gut, the wind is knocked out of your lungs because he is already staring down at you, a small smile tilting the corner of his lips up. You can quite literally feel your pupils dilate and you pray to god that he did not see it as you quickly but— you hope —casually turn your gaze away from him, nonchalantly asking, “Oh, we ran out?” 

“Yeah,” he replies, stopping to retrieve the cereal from the shelf. You reach out too but he beats you to it, knowing full well that you will never be able to reach the cereal that only sits on the highest shelf. Your heart stops for a while when you can feel him unintentionally press into you, chest brushing up on your ponytail, heat radiating from his body and pulling sweat from the pores of your palms. But the warmth quickly retracts with him as he pulls away from the shelf and haphazardly dumps the box of cereal into the cart before setting off, pushing the cart forward and out of the aisle, leaving your frozen form in the dust. 

You quickly snap out of it and follow Jungkook. 

As you trail behind him, pretending to look at products along the way so that you can stay behind him and play with your thoughts, your mind wanders off. All too suddenly, you are daydreaming, imagining yourself as courageous as you confess your harboured feelings to Jungkook. In this alternate universe that your imaginative mind has created, Jungkook beams down at you and accepts your confession, confessing that he too had been harbouring feelings for you. Jungkook calling your name snaps you out of your delusions. 

“Y/n?” 

It takes you a little too long to realise that he is talking to you but when you do, you reply with the most flustered, the most nervous sounding what you have ever heard leave your mouth. 

“I asked you if you wanted Nutella,” Jungkook patiently asks again. Far too nervous to properly internalise the question and reply with a proper answer, you haphazardly shake your head and pretend to wander off into an aisle filled with shampoo. You honestly don’t know why you said no. Nutella runs in your blood and your stupid diet — which is really just you being far too lazy to actually get up and make food — has your body aching for Nutella. But your pride runs deeper than you expect and you do not correct yourself, allowing Jungkook pass by the Nutella without another glance. 

Now back to overthinking. One of the reasons why you liking Jungkook is so bad is because, well, he has a fucking girlfriend, one who he loves very much. Plus, as if the universe absolutely fucking hated you, Jungkook had told you about said girlfriend, on the bloody day that your stupid ass had finally realised that you were romantically attracted and in love with Jungkook. And as if punching you in the face wasn’t enough, the universe had pierced your heart with the fact that you knew this girl. He had started dating Yoora. And you loved Yoora. Or more specifically, you found it humanly impossible to hate that girl. 

Ever the polite and sweet girl, Yoora had helped you pick up the wind-scattered pages of the love story you had written, handing them to you with a sweet smile and wishing you a good day ahead as she walked off. After that, you seemed to see her everywhere. So much so, that she had finally decided to approach you one day and become acquainted with you.

The aching pain of your unrequited love only continued, with each glance at Jungkook. You had also third-wheeled on a number of their dates and watching Jungkook look at Yoora, or someone who wasn’t you for that matter, with so much love squeezed your heart painfully, as if the universe was trying to wring a towel dry and your heart so happened to be said towel.

And Yoora being nice to you isn’t helping either. She has always looked at you kindly even though you are literally living with her boyfriend. Maybe she has always assumed you are gay or don’t harbour any feelings for Jungkook, or maybe she has always thought the best of you, that even if you did have feelings for Jungkook, you would never even dare try for him. 

So how on earth are you supposed to love him when Yoora’s kind and understanding eyes always flash through your mind when you think about Jungkook? How on earth are you supposed to hate her for stealing Jungkook away from you when she has been nothing but nice to you? But at the same time, how on earth are you supposed to like Yoora when she is the reason Jungkook is impatiently waiting for you to finish with your last year in university so that you can finally move out? How on earth are you supposed to like her when she is all that occupies Jungkook’s mind, leaving you forgotten like you are some childhood toy that Jungkook has grown out of? How are you supposed to live at all when those three fucking words take over your body like a goddamn curse, seizing control of your feelings like your heart is some kind of airplane and your feelings for Jungkook are forcing your heart into a nosedive, flying straight into the ground and shattering the feeble vessel? 

The answer is that you can’t. You can’t fucking live. 

“Is that all?” Jungkook asks you after about ten minutes. You did not even notice that you were lost in your shitty thoughts for that long. When you raise your head to look at the cart instead of the floor, you see that it is filled with groceries that will be a pain in the ass to carry home alone. Right, you totally forgot Jungkook is meeting Yoora right after this, which means you’ll probably have to carry everything back by yourself, seeing as how you’ve been carrying groceries home by yourself for the past three months. 

“Yeah,” you reply after your eyes lazily scan over the items, looking up to give Jungkook a weak smile before walking away and leading the way to the cashier. 

Silently, the two of you load the items onto the conveyor belt one by one, allowing the cashier to scan and pack the items into flimsy plastic bags before handing them to you. Jungkook pays since it is his turn and quickly tucks his wallet into his pocket before rushing to help you by taking most of the plastic bags from your hands, leaving you with only one bag. Against your own will, your heart swells with love. 

“Aren’t you meeting Yoora?” you question him as the two of you begin to walk out of the building. Jungkook turns to you and flashes you a bright grin, one that has something splintering in your chest and your breath hitching. 

“I told her to wait a little longer,” he answers, smiling sheepishly, tone hinting that he feels guilty for ditching you for the past three months. As he should. You reply with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. 

“Also,” he starts, trailing off a little as he pauses to let you walk ahead little before switching places with you so that he is walking on the outer side of the pavement, steps spilling onto the grass when the both of you have to squeeze past people who selfishly idle on the pavement, lingering outside shops for smoke breaks. Your heart’s quickening beat rings in your ears. You ignore it and flash him a grateful smile before he continues his sentence. 

“As I was saying, what’s up, Y/n? You’ve been a little off these days,” Jungkook questions, taking his eyes off the pavements to periodically glance at you, eyebrows knitted together in a concerned frown, teeth worrying his bottom lip. 

Of course Jungkook would think something is fishy. Once upon a time, the both of you could easily read each other like a children’s picture book, it was foolish of you to think that just because he prioritises his girlfriend before you, doesn’t mean that he can’t read your behaviour. It was foolish of you to think that Jungkook had changed at all. So far, he seemed normal. Maybe it was just you. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’ve been cold lately. If you haven’t realised, all you’ve said to me throughout this whole shopping trip were short sentences that end the conversation straight away. And I know you’re always working on your essays for your classes but we don’t even have movie night anymore. Not to mention that you barely even talk to me anymore. So tell me what’s wrong. Did I piss you off or something?” Jungkook explains, a sadness oozing from his gentle gaze that he turns to you as the both of you halt at a pedestrian crossing. The sorrow in his eyes causes your chest to tighten as you find it impossible to talk. Because you miss him too. So much. You would kill just to feel the unadulterated rapture you felt when you were spending time with Jungkook. You really just want things to go back to how they were before you liked him. 

“Oh, I’ve just been going through a lot lately,” you answer, trying to keep your reply as vague as possible, hoping he leaves it at that and waits for you to tell him when you are ready. 

But of course, Jungkook continues to pry. 

“What are you going through? Come on, Y/n, you can tell me. If you do, maybe I can help you,” he bombards you, eyes silently pleading that you allow him to fix your problems. You know he means well. Jungkook has never intentionally caused harm to you but right now, you just want him to drop it. Because how on earth are you going to explain to him that you are in love with him and are jealous of his pretty, smart, kind girlfriend? 

Apparently your brain knows how.

“Well,” you start before you can stop yourself. The look in Jungkook’s eyes makes it impossible for you to just cut it off there, so, you continue. 

“I’ve liked this boy for a long while now but he has a girlfriend. I really want to tell him but I’m afraid it’ll ruin our friendship,” you blurt. At first, your chest feels light, heart finally rid of the words that had weighed it down. But then, you look at Jungkook, gorgeous eyes conflicted as he carefully articulates what he wants to say next. Then, again, your heart fills with an unimaginably heavy weight that sinks it all the way down to your gut. And you cannot help but think, he knows. He knows and he’s is going to break my heart all over again. 

“Can I ask.. who it is that you like?” he asks wearily, as if he is a hunter approaching a wild deer that startles easily. As the two of you turn the corner to your shared apartment, you glance up into his eyes once more and your heart sinks further. Fear. Fear swallows his eyes as he awaits your answer, afraid that what you’ll say next will completely decimate the past fifteen years of your best friendship, afraid that you will completely destroy his trust with your next words. 

And even though you want to lie to him, you find it impossible to. Which is why, before you can stop yourself from blurting it out, you reply with, “You.”

The feeling of complete and utter horror hits you after a second of lag time. Despite the extra second that it gives you to prepare yourself, you do not use it and when the realisation of what you said hits you, it hits you hard, like a million bricks to the face. 

Jungkook stills and you freeze too, too scared to even look at him. The both of you stand on the street, a few steps away from your ground floor apartment, a few steps away from privacy. But you think that at this point, privacy completely flies over Jungkook’s head. 

“I have a girlfriend, Y/n,” he states, as if you didn’t already know. You turn to face him and Jungkook’s expression is not at all far from terrifying. He has never looked at you with such stern, angry expression, eyebrows knitted together in a disapproving frown rather than his previous concerned frown, and it quite literally scares the shit out of you. His gaze has hardened and he looks at you as if you have committed murder — which you have, seeing as how you have completely lynched this whole fucking relationship. 

“I know you have a girlfriend,” you scoff. You swear for a second that Jungkook glares at you. Your heart stops. What have you done?

“I just-“ you start, trying to explain yourself but Jungkook cuts you off by raising his hand. For the shortest of milliseconds, you think that he is going to hit you, slap you, do something. But then, you dismiss the idea, knowing full well that Jungkook will not harm you. He is Jungkook. No matter how angry he is, he won’t ever lay a hand on anyone, especially you. 

“You know I have a girlfriend and yet you decided that it was appropriate to confess your feelings to me now?” he questions in a clipped tone, frown deepening with each thought that passes through his mind. 

“Look, Jungkook,” you start, taking a deep breath before continuing. To your surprise, he listens patiently. 

“I have been in love with you for two years now. Or well, I realised in our first year of Uni. But I’m pretty sure that I’ve been in love with you for far longer than I’ve realised. I know that you have a girlfriend and I know that I’m being selfish and a really shitty friend right now but I’ll be honest, it was beginning to burst out of me, my feelings, the words that I yearned to speak but could not, knowing that I’d be condemned to hell for speaking them. So quite frankly, I know I shouldn’t be scolding you, but I don’t need a fucking scolding from you,” you snap at him. Your breathing is laboured after the words leave your mouth. You pause for a second and watch him, waiting for him to make a move, to blow at you anyway. But he stays silent and you walk away, shoving your key into the lock of your apartment and swinging the door open with so much force that it slams into the coat rack standing behind it, knocking it down. 

Jungkook silently follows you into the house, gently placing down the groceries at the entrance of the kitchenette before he slips back into his shoes and leaves, slamming the door behind him. The slam is loud and resounding, and it feels like the sound waves are reverberating inside your chest, shattering your heart like glass. 

Left in the deafening silence, an air of complete and utter regret filling your apartment like a thick fog, the weight of your’s and Jungkook’s words finally take their toll on you, somehow increasing the gravitational pull on your body and pulling you to the floor. You do not know how you have yet to burst into tears but right now, all you can feel is a numbness that overwhelms your senses, dulling them down. Your ears tune out, your vision narrows, and the cool, tiled floor of the kitchenette beneath your fingers does not feel like cool tile at all. 

God, Jungkook must hate you now. 

And finally, at that thought, the idea of your best friend — or really, your only true friend — hating you, do your tears fall. 

#bts #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts fanfiction #jeongguk #jeon jeongguk #bts imagines #bts scenerios #fanfiction #bts angst #angst #jungkook fanfiction #jeon jungkook fanfiction #fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jeongguk fanfic #bts au #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #college au #bts college au #jungkook college au #drabble #jungkook x y/n

[gamequeenanya]

Nico Collabs With Thomas: The Boyfriend Tickle Challenge! (Switch!Thomas, Switch!Nico)

Summary: Thomas and Nico try a special challenge for a video - answer a question wrong about the other person, get tickled! Who will get flustered? Who will be giggly? And who will win this challenge? 

Nico had asked Thomas if he could guest star on the show sometimes. He'd said sure! For their first collaboration, Nico sat next to Thomas in his room as he read off various ideas they could do.

"Here's a good one: The Try Not to Laugh Challenge!" Thomas said. Nico giggled.

"Seriously? My giggly boy Thomas has to try not to laugh?" He teased, wiggling his fingers. Thomas giggled, letting out a snort too.

"W-whatever!" he whined.

As Thomas read through the list of YouTube challenges, Nico kept teasing him by wiggling his fingers towards Thomas' sides, snickering quietly. He'd occasionally poke them too. Finally, after about five minutes of it, Thomas had enough. He turned around and tackled Nico to the floor.

"Okay, Nico... you win. How about YOU try not to laugh for ten minutes, okay...?" Thomas grinned mischievously. Nico gulped, knowing he was doomed.

Thomas tickled under his chin.

"Wait Thomas!" He said, resisting. "It's supposed to be you not laughing!"

Thomas seemed to change into Janus as he turned his head a little and got a smooth silky voice. "Plans change sometimes, sweetheart."

Nico struggled a little and found he couldn't get free.

Starting at his armpits, Thomas softly ran his fingers back and forth in the hollows. Nico squealed and thrashed about, shaking his head.

"EHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEHEHEEE!! NAHAHAAHAHAHAAHAAHAA!!"

"Aw, you're failing already!" Thomas said. "Don't worry though. I'll go easier on you."

His touch got lighter, making the sensations more tingly and torturous.

"Hehehehehheheeee!! Please!!" Nico cried. Thomas paused, grinning down at him.

"Please what, Nico...?"

Nico shook his head. "Stahahahhaaap!"

Since they hadn't come up with a safe word yet, Thomas played it safe. He pulled away, leaving Nico to pant on the floor.

"Have we learned our lesson...?"

Nico huffed, sitting up and crossing his arms. "I'm not talking to you." He straightened his glasses, noting his cheeks were hot.

Thomas just sat there, satisfied to draw this out as long as he could.

Spoiler alert: Eventually Nico did talk with Thomas again, and that time they did make an actual video.

"The safe word is banana." Thomas said.

"No," Nico replied, knowing where this was going.

"That way when I don't say it, I can say, 'Orange you glad I didn't say banana?'" He giggled.

Nico sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Thomas, I swear..."

After that was agreed upon, they set up the camera and got ready to film their video.

They'd discussed the video beforehand and decided Thomas should go first. Nico got out some cards with questions written on them.

"Hi everybody!" Thomas said, doing his super happy smile. "Today, I'm joined by my boyfriend Nico! And we will be doing the boyfriend tickle challenge!" He laughed a little at saying that. Everyone could tell he could hardly wait.

Next to him, Nico grinned, holding up a card.

"First question, Thomas. And no cheating! ... What colour is my underwear?"

"What?!" He said, completely taken by surprise. "H-how would I know that?!"

Nico chuckled. "Just kidding! Here's the real question! 1. What's my favourite type of rock?"

"That's an easy one," Thomas said. He hesitated. "It's igneous, right?"

Nico sighed in defeat. "Yep!"

Thomas grinned, pumping his fist. "Yes!"

Clearing his throat, Nico went to the next question.

"Now then... What's my favourite hairstyle for women?" Nico said, thinking he'd have Thomas stumped.

"Uhhh... All women are beautiful regardless of how they style their hair!"

"A very Thomas answer! I'll give you half a point since it's technically correct! The real answer was beehive!"

"Dang!" Thomas said.

Nico lightly danced his fingers on Thomas' sides.

"Eheheheheheee!" Thomas wiggled in place. Nico giggled along. This was fun!

Giving Thomas a bit of a break, Nico moved on to the third question.

"Alright, number three, the big cahooney, your chance to prove yourself once and for all as the ultimate boyfriend!" Nico said. He checked the card and blushed. "Okay, no, we're skipping that one." He flipped over to the next card. "Ah. We're skipping that one too."

Thomas chuckled. "Are they really that inappropriate?"

"No!" Nico cried indignantly. "These are all family friendly questions!"

"Let me see."

Nico shook his head. The next thing he knew he was wrestling Thomas on the ground.

"Hehehey, no! Get away!" He shrieked. Thomas tried to reach the cards in his hands but he kept them high over his head. A quick tickle to the armpits, and Thomas had the cards in his hands. Nico covered his blushing face. "Oh gosh!"

"Hmmm... Question 3: Innie or outie belly button? I'm pretty sure yours counts as an outie." Thomas said, lifting Nico's shirt to check if he was correct. "Yep!" A gentle boop, and he pulled his shirt back down. Nico giggled. He wrapped his arms around himself, big smile never leaving his face. Oh gosh, what if Thomas' camera recorded all this? And it probably did. Thomas turned to the next card. "Oh, and worst tickle spot?" He giggled. "Pretty sure it's your right foot!"

Nico squeaked. So Thomas had been paying attention! "Okay, okay, you win!"

Thomas helped Nico up. He paused his teasing for a second. "Hey, Nico? If you're uncomfortable we can stop. We don't have to post this to YouTube if you don't want."

"You mean it?" He said. Looking away, he smiled nervously. "I mean, I was enjoying the game... But it does seem kind of embarrassing to show to the whole world, you know? Can we keep it, um, just between us?"

Thomas nodded, eyes sparkling with sincerity.

They turned off the camera and put it away. But the game wasn't finished yet.

"Your turn now, Nico!" Thomas teased, grabbing his own set of cards. Nico sat in his chair and tried not to squirm. "Okay, first question... Which celebrity does my dad look like?"

Nico twiddled his thumbs, thinking desperately. He didn't know! "Uhhh, uhhh, Jeff Goldblum?"

To his surprise, Thomas nodded. "Good! Next question, what nickname have the fans given to Logan's tie?"

"Tyler." Nico said without hesitation. Thomas nodded again.

"Alright, last question... You're doing great so far, don't worry..." He smiled reassuringly at Nico. "Now, this should be an easy one. What's my favourite cartoon?"

Nico blanked. There were so many cartoons Thomas had talked about over the years... But which was his favourite? He stressed and thought over it for many minutes before Thomas told him his time was up.

"Wait wait waaaaait!" Nico cried. "W-what was your favourite?!"

"To be honest, you could have said any of the ones I mentioned in my videos and it would have counted. I love them all equally!"

"What?!" He squeaked. This time Thomas gently scooped him into his arms and began scratching his sides. "Eheheheheheheheee!"

"Awwww!" Thomas said, smiling at how cute Nico was.

"Unfair!" he whined.

"Oh, that's not unfair, Nico... this is!" He put Nico in a tickle hold and massaged his hips.

Nico screamed with laughter! "HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAA!! THOHOHOHOOMAS!!"

Next, Thomas reached around to tickle all along his back.

"AHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHHAHHAAA!! NOT THERE!!"

Then he lifted Nico's shirt up and blew raspberries on his belly button.

"AHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAA!! IHIHI'LL GET YOHOHOHOU FOR THIS!!"

"I'd like to see you try!" He said, giggling. Thomas danced his fingers all over Nico's stomach, avoiding the hands trying to fight him off. Well, for a few seconds, at least.

Nico managed to flip their positions and grab Thomas' wrists. He grinned down at him. "Surprised...?"

Thomas blushed, fully accepting of his fate.  

And Nico sure got his revenge! He skittered his fingers along his neck, making Thomas giggle and roll on the floor. He pulled his shirt up, and skittered his fingers all along his stomach. He blew raspberries on his belly button.

"HEHEHEHEHEHHEEHEHEHEHEHEEE!!" Thomas practically flailed. Nico swirled his fingers along both of his sides, making him wiggle back and forth. "HEHEEHEHHEHEHHEEEE!! NIHIHIHIHIHICO!!!"

"Yes, Thomas...?" Nico said, pausing.

Thomas panted, and looked up at Nico with starry eyes. He kept giggling for a long while. "Ahahaha... Hahahahaa... Ahahaaahaaa..."

Nico helped him sit up.

"O-Orange you glad... I didn't... say banana...?" Thomas said with a grin. Nico rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Thomas. Yes, I am..."

Nico stayed with Thomas for the rest of the evening, wondering how he could ever come up with a pun to rival that one.

#sanders sides tickling #c!thomas #switch thomas #switch nico #lee nico #tickle fic #my writing #just thought this would be a fun idea