#i GET what people mean when they say its so long now

[reignpage]

Frat Boy!Gojo

Cosmopolitan: sober thoughts

Word Count: 6.1k Contents: their first date, cursing, a little angsty, but mostly fluffy, not proofread (barely skimmed this so again, dunno how much sense it makes)

“Before you get any bright ideas, just know I’m sharing my location with at least ten people.”

Whistling, the biggest pain in your ass saunters over to you

The moon is full, a big white orb that would otherwise bring you a lot of peace to look at but right now, only pisses you off for reasons you’d rather not spend too much time pondering. Rarely anyone comes around these parts; it’s at the very edge of the city, a half-hour drive from campus, and surrounded by miles of dull, old suburbia. You’re standing in front of a metal gate, slightly taller than you, with vines wrapping around the pickets. It swings slowly with every gust of wind, creaking before it meets the stone wall with a bang.

Gojo grimaces. 

“Seriously, did you have to choose the scariest place in all of Eden? I mean, I respect the commitment to the aesthetic, but this is just crazy,” he grumbles, eyeing the cathedral from its huge marble pillars to the sharp spires piercing the night sky. 

You roll your eyes. Trust him to leave the date planning to you just to complain every step of the way. You’re already regretting playing along with whatever games he’s conjured up this time, but at least you’ve got home turf advantage; you know this place like the back of your hand. There won’t be any surprises happening tonight. 

Without replying, you walk off, heading straight through the gate. 

“Hey, wait! Don’t leave me here. I don’t want to end up as a statistic.”

Shrugging, you say, “If you’re scared, you can go back home.”

When he doesn’t say a thing and follows you, you smile. You win. But that feeling of victory doesn’t last very long because then he starts muttering about the cobwebs and how they’re everywhere, then about the tombstones, how they’re so messy with moss covering the engravings and that ‘the spirits must definitely be like so mad about all that’, and when you don’t respond to any of his musings, he even complains about the eerie music foreshadowing his pending doom, like in Jaws.

There is no music. 

“Where are we even going?” He pokes your shoulder, snatching his hand back faster than you can swat at it. “I thought we were going to, I don’t know, have a picnic under the stars and cuddle on top of someone’s grave, like Mary Shelley did.”

“How the fuck do you even know about that?” 

Gojo lifts one shoulder. “Must have heard it online or something.”

You roll your eyes again — you have a feeling you’ll be doing a lot of that tonight, maybe even for the rest of your life if things go the way your parents plan. When you had first found out the village idiot is the president of the most sought-after fraternity of the most prestigious university in the country, you thought maybe no one else had stepped up. But then you found out he’s a Legacy --the Gojos have governed that fraternity since its conception -- and well, the pieces fell into place. 

Mischief no doubt sparkling in your eyes, you look at him over your shoulder. His eyes are full of suspicion and when they meet yours, he becomes even more doubtful of your intentions. With a grin, you whisper, “We’re going someplace no one will hear you scream.”

“Kinky.”           

That didn’t have the desired effect. How annoying. Though you don’t fail to notice how he moves in closer to you, his warmth radiating to your body through your black, fur cloak. You don’t shift away. 

Gesturing for him to follow you through a gap in a wooden fence, you squeeze through to avoid splinters, pulling at your dress when a piece of lace catches on a nail. Just as you’re about to offer advice on how to contort his body to get through, he climbs over the fence and lands on his feet without stumbling, all in one quick sweep, like he’s who wanders these hallowed grounds at night and not you. 

“What?” He asks when he spots your glare. 

Not even those stupid sunglasses are out of place. Very annoying, indeed. 

“Come quickly,” you bark, fixing your silk gloves to cover more of your skin as the chill settles in. It’s only six in the evening, and yet there’s no hint of light in the broad expanse above you, just the moon and the stars lighting your way, and occasionally your companion’s phone flashlight when he needs to look at what he’s stepped in. 

He laughs. “No one’s ever said that to me before.”

“Do you make it a habit to talk about your sex life with a girl on a first date?”

“You’re the first, so not a habit. Not yet anyways.” 

Screeching to a halt, your hand clutches his elbow to still him. Your jaw is slack and you’re staring, completely disbelieving. “There’s no way this is your first date. You took that girl to the casino.”

Gojo stares off into the distance as he ponders the notion, fingers tapping his chin. Then, he insists, “No, it really is my first date. And anyways, I don’t consider that night a date; she pretty much invited herself along. It was more like I was just taking her to the casino as her escort. Or maybe that does count as a date. If so, then I’ve been on a lot of dates. But none where I’ve actually used the word date. Does that even matter because —“ 

You wave a hand in front of his face to cut off his rambling; he talks way too much. “So, you’re telling me, I’m the first girl you’ve ever asked out on a date? That’s insane, Gojo. You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” he protests with a frown.

“You sure acted like you did for months,” you counter. 

He insists, “I don’t hate you. Never did. I just acted out but yeah, I’m sorry. I was a dick.”

Clearing your throat, you straighten up and continue walking. “It’s fine. Water under the bridge.” 

“You sure? ‘Cause I can get on my knees and beg.”

“Don’t tempt me, Gojo.”

He catches up to you and hums a playful tune, his light mood returning; Serious Gojo is gone like he never existed. “Guess that’s what you’re into, huh?”

“You’ll never know,” you snort, pushing a branch away from your face and letting it snap back into his chest, he yelps.

His hand reaches past you, lifting a thicker branch high above the both of you, before leaning close to your ear and whispering conspiratorially, “We’ll see.”

Disregarding the shiver than runs through you, you push on, moving almost on muscle memory alone. Your mind is attempting to distract itself by scanning the area, being careful not to be caught on church grounds after hours, pushing through the woodland to get to the clearing tucked away at the very back, where you go for peace and quiet. 

Truthfully, you have no idea why you decided to have this date here, of all places. This place is sacred. Literally but also figuratively — this is the place you always ran to when the world got a little too loud, a little too busy and bright for you. No one else knows about this haven as far as you’re aware and you always thought you’d do anything to keep it that way. And yet, you’re showing it to him. Actually, guiding him to the place. 

You should have at least blindfolded him so he couldn’t memorise the way. 

Maybe you wanted to spite him by living up to his expectations and being the gothic monster that he thinks you are -- you want to scare him off before he lets his curiosity take him too close to something that might scald him. He needs to be afraid of you. 

Or maybe you recognised that shadow in his eyes, the ones that suggests he’s lost as much sleep about this whole farce as you and thought he could do with a little silence. 

You both arrive at a thick bush, a massive wall of a shrub towering over even Gojo. Behind you, the cathedral is only a blob, lit up by lanterns, whereas you’re both submerged in darkness; there are no streetlamps here. 

“I’m totally going to be murdered here, aren’t I?” He whistles as if to say, ‘it’s been a good life, and I’ll have to just accept my fate’. 

“Yeah, I was lying when I said it was all water under the bridge. I’ve actually been colluding with the devil to sacrifice your white ass.”

Gojo laughs.

He laughs a lot, but rarely like this, you note. He chuckles when his friends do something stupid like push him into the fountain, and he snorts when he reads the most recent article on The Bulletin. But you’ve never really seen him throw his head back and clutch his stomach, at least not with anyone but you. He does it when you get caught texting him under the dinner table, when you give him the middle finger from across the Quad, and that one time you bumped into him in the hallway and almost apologised before you realised it was him.

It’s the kind of laugh that’s infectious, and you hoped every time he does it that you’re somehow immune. However, when he looks at you with a brightening sparkle in his eyes, you realise you’re very much not. 

You clear your throat again. 

“Through here, is a very special place. You must swear you will not desecrate this place, lest the Mother Crone curse you for your treachery,” you announce, wiggling your fingers at him for extra flair. 

Placing a hand on his heart, he stomps his foot like a soldier and swears, “I would never. I will take this secret to the grave.”

Satisfied, you grab the loose part of the hedge wall and pull it aside to reveal the little doorway to your secret hideout. He throws you a side glance before he ducks down and enters. You follow behind him, tucking the disguised door behind you. 

He doesn’t say a thing as you zoom to the side where you grope for something in the grass, right under part of the hedge. When you feel the smooth, cold plastic, you don’t hesitate to switch it on. 

Long wires of fairy lights light up, bulb by bulb, along the top of the hedge and down, like a really wide Christmas tree circling the hidden clearing. You hear him mutter a ‘woah’ under his breath as he scans the area — there’s only one thing here on the flat ground, it’s also lit up fairy lights along the top pole. It’s your most prized possession.

“You have a swing?” He shouts incredulously. Giggling like a child, he makes a run for it, jumping onto one of the two seats where he rocks back and forth on his feet. Then he’s whooping as he swings higher and higher, hair whooshing back and forth as he grins, taking in the cold autumnal air and the growing warmth of the lights. “This is freaking awesome!”

Sitting on the spare seat, you kick your feet gently so you can swing a little. Deep down there was a worry festering within, anxious that he would find this place boring, that he’d scoff at your idea of fun especially on a first date, but looking up at him, still hollering and grinning, you think, that was such a silly thought. 

Gojo slows to a mild back and forth momentum and wonders, “Are you sure I’m allowed to be here? This place seems pretty private, like your own mancave or something. Do girls have a version of a mancave? ‘Womancave?”

In the corner of your eye, you see him clamber down to sit as you answer his question. “I wouldn’t have taken you here if you weren’t allowed, dumbass.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still not convinced this isn’t an elaborate scheme to murder me and hide my body in a grave.”

“Neither.” You shrug. 

He laughs. 

Eventually, you both swing side by side, alternating up and then down. The wind is howling a little, rustling the trees surrounding you and the moon’s obscured by dark cloud. Neither you nor he say anything to break the silence. You were also worried that you’d come to hate his presence in your safe space, finding his tall, lanky presence an irritation, but surprisingly, you don’t mind it. 

It’s nice to have company. 

Especially when that company is keeping his mouth shut. 

“How often do you come here?”

Or not. 

With a sigh, you reply, “Like twice a week. I can’t come as often as I’d like because of all the classes and stuff, not to mention all the wedding planning we have to do.”

“Guess you have it worse than me since I don’t even need to be fitted for a suit; they already have my measurements,” he muses. 

“For whatever reason, it’s always the women who have to plan these things, even though it’s the men that propose.” You accidentally make eye contact with him. “Or at least, that’s how it usually goes.”

Gojo hums, a little sheepishly, before he changes the subject. “So, how did you find this place?”

“We buried my grandmother in the graveyard when I was fifteen. We were close and I took the loss pretty hard. I couldn’t stand all the people pretending they cared so I ran off, got lost and found this clearing. Well, I actually fell through the hedge, but I found it, nonetheless. And this swing was here already. I don’t know how long it’s been here or why it’s here, but it is.”

“That sounds like a fairytale.” He swivels, swinging a long leg over to straddle the seat, facing you as he leans back against the metal chain. “I’m sorry for your loss, by the way. I lost my grandmother too and it was rough.”

You saw that on the news years ago, it was one of those private family events that make the national headlines by complete virtue of the family name. Your parents grieved in public like it was their own loss and you didn’t understand why. Of course, as you got older, you became more and more acquainted with the idea of ‘reputation’ and ‘public image’, but you still feel that same distance to the concept as you did when you were but a child. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you repeat back to him.

He shrugs. “It’s alright. I’ve got my gramps. We’re best buddies.”

“You have a lot of best buds, don’t you?” 

Gojo strikes you as the kind of guy who makes friends easily, thought you question the depth of most of those friendships; sincerity is a rare phenomenon in your world. 

“No,” he huffs, “I have Suguru, the girl that gave you my number, and gramps. I have lots of close friends, though.”

Considering his words, you realise you don’t have any best friends. Sure, you have friends you hang out with often, people that share your interest, that you can party with, but none you feel as strongly about as he does with those three people. You can hear it in his voice, the conviction, the pride, the confidence. And when you glance at him, you know he doesn’t even realise how defensive he sounds about his people.

How nice it must be to have someone like him as a friend.

“We could be friends, if you’d like,” he offers, and when you look at him with confusion, he adds, “You said it out loud, silly. You think I’m a good person to be friends with. Which, of course I am. I’m like super awesome.”

You burst out laughing. What he said isn’t even funny and he certainly doesn’t mean for it to be, but for some reason it is. So, you laugh, throwing your head back and clutching your stomach. He makes noises of complaints, telling you it’s rude to laugh at people. That makes you laugh harder. 

“Gojo, be serious for a second. We can’t be friends, idiot,” you push out between puffs of laughter. 

He frowns, lips twitching to fight back a smile at your flushed face. “Why not? We’re getting along fine right now, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, for now. But we’re going to be married. Or at least, we’re supposed to be. And think of all the complications that brings, it just doesn’t provide the conditions for a healthy friendship, especially considering our beginning. Think of all the people in our circle who had arranged marriages. How many of them get along? Like, really get along. Hell! Think about our parents.”

“Well, we could be different. We don’t have to end up like them. We can break the cycle or something.”

You stop laughing.

Something shifts in the air, like the moon’s reappeared, the wind’s slowed down, and his eyes shine just a little brighter. It’s sudden and you almost don’t notice it, almost shrug it off. But there’s a sincerity lingering between you and it demands your attention.

Fixing him a solemn look, perhaps similar to the one he gave you before, you assert, “That sounds an awful like an admission of surrender, Gojo.”

“Maybe it is.”

The speed at which he concedes, the sheer resolution in his eyes and the way he doesn’t falter when he says it all scream at you something you won’t accept. Can’t.

He grips your elbow, his long fingers wrapping around the limb with ease, demanding your attention. The sombre expression on his ghostly face haunts you. It’s like he’s shifted into a different person, into someone years older, a man burdened with great responsibility. 

“I’m sorry. About how I started this year off. I regretted everything I said as soon as I said them. I can’t even remember why I said and did those things, but I definitely don’t have a good reason,” he rasped, a desperation lacing his words like he needs you to understand, like he tosses and turns over it. “I know you’re just as much a victim of this as I am, but I was facing a problem I didn’t know to solve, and I lashed out. At you. At someone who didn’t deserve it. And I’m sorry.”

You reel back, snatching your arm away. His touch burns the way ice does, and you have to rub warmth back into it, despite the layers between your skin and his. The sincerity in his eyes is alien, revealing far more about the ongoings of reality than you can absorb in one night. Confusingly, your heart is pounding to the beat of a song you’ve never heard before. 

This date thing, taking him to your secret haven, giving him the opportunity to see you not as the enemy but rather as a woman was a mistake. It’s all one big mistake. It would have been fine if he had stayed as the Gojo you knew, the boisterous, obnoxious party animal that cares only about immediate gratification. But the man in front of you is not someone you can marry. He isn’t the type of man you can be around and feel absolutely nothing for. 

“I’m hungry,” you mutter, standing abruptly.

He looks up at you, something passing in his eyes, almost akin to disappointment or sadness, and you can’t bear to think about what that could mean, so you simply gesture for him to follow you. 

In silence, you walk back the way you came, using your phone’s flashlight to navigate through the thick haze of darkness. This was a mistake; you let him in for a second, gave him a glimpse into your life, and you aren’t even sure why. Was it because you could hear your mother’s voice telling you to do whatever it takes to drag the man to the altar or because, despite yourself, you actually wanted to see what going on a date with Gojo means? 

Maybe it was both. 

Or neither. 

You’re losing more and more of yourself these days, doing things you’d never thought you’d do for one reason or another, and you no longer even know what you want. Your pride or your family? A marriage with Gojo or the friendship he’s offering? Is there’s a third option.

“What’d you wanna eat?” He asks, rocking back and forth on his feet as he stares up at a streetlight. 

You’ve both made it back onto the main road, the swings a mile away. He didn’t press the topic more, simply walked beside you and pushed branches away like before. 

It’s nearing eight in the evening and your stomach growls. 

“Who said I’m eating with you?”

Gojo rolls his eyes and pokes your shoulder. With a sulky tone, he groans, “Don’t be mean. You’re hungry, I’m hungry, let’s eat. Simple!”

“Can you cook?” 

He beams, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he looks at you over them, bright eyes sparkling with what you can only guess to be mischief. You realise you really should think before you speak. 

—

That’s how you find yourself in his frat house kitchen, cloak discarded, hair up and gloves off. His frat members are out, partying, he claims, so the whole house is free. When he suggested it, you looked at him like he was insane, but he only wiggled his brows.

“You scared?” He cocked his head, grinning at you in a way that made you want to punch his teeth in. 

Narrowing your eyes at him, you responded, “No, of course not.”

Gojo bent his arms and rocked his head, making clucking noises that echoed in the empty street. Every note pierced your body, mocking and goading. You knew exactly what he was doing, and it was fucking working, the stupid bastard. Without responding to his accusation, you stomped over to his car and gave him a glare. He fetched his car keys and spun them on his finger with a victorious whistle.

“Grate this,” he orders. 

His kitchen is huge, which is understandable for the size of the house and how many people live here. Apparently, there’s three more kitchens in the damn place, not that you believe even a quarter of the guys that live here know what a cutting board is. The kitchen is surprisingly clean, however. It’s sparkling clean. 

“We have cleaners that comes in every other day,” he chuckles, noticing your looks of complete judgement whilst he boils some pasta. “But we are pretty strict on cleanliness, regardless. And everyone knows, I’m not afraid to crack the whip to keep everyone in line.”

Scoffing, you clarify, “You? Cracking whips? I find that hard to believe.”

He leans against the island you’re stationed at, the sound of water simmering filling the small space between you. Watching you grate the cheese, he hums, fingers fiddling with the lace of your sleeve. He mutters, “I know how to be serious when I need to be.”

You hum too. 

Still fiddling with the fabric, you ignore his wandering hand, fingers slipping under to roll the soft lace between his fingertips. Goosebumps rise on your skin. His touch is tentative, hesitant and gentle — one would think he’s just afraid to snag the fabric, acknowledging the craftsmanship, but one glance up at him, seeing his gaze fixated on your exposed skin more than your sleeve, you know otherwise. 

“Hands to yourself, Geralt.”

“If I’m Geralt, that must make you Yennefer,” he retorts. With a laugh, he pulls away, returning to the stove to tend to the pasta sauce. You don’t realise how much warmth he generated until you feel a sudden draught. 

The smell of frying onions and garlic is delicious and you’re becoming more and more starved by the second. He’s agile, moving swiftly and on muscle memory as he opens drawers and cabinets to gather the things he needs. 

“How often do you cook?” You ask, arm getting tired from the motion of grating the block of cheese.

Gojo shrugs and admits, “Not as often as I’d like. Weekends are for parties and pizza and all the other days, everyone’s doing their thing, studying or whatever, and eating by myself is kinda sad, so I just eat out usually.”

“How is it possible that you eat out so often but still remain so skinny?”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say because the next thing you know you’re being spun around and pressed into the island with a hard body. His arms are caging you in, keeping you still as he grins at you. 

He had thrown his jacket by the door when you both walked in; his biceps bulge as he flexes. They’re so much bigger now, or maybe they were always like that. And he’s pressed so close his Adam’s apple is right in front of you, bobbing when you tilt your head back so you can meet his eyes. 

“I’m plenty jacked, actually,” he brags and to add salt to the wound, he leans down, cheek brushing against yours to whisper against your ear, “wifey.”

You shove him off, snorting at his lame line. He back away with little protest. Trying to hide the heat in your face, you wash your hands, turning away from him completely. 

The rest of the hour passes by in a blink of an eye, and you finally sit down at the dining table across from each other. He’s a decent cook and you pay him a compliment even though it physically hurt to do so. 

“Do you not cook very often?” 

“I make sandwiches and ramen, that’s as far as I know how to do,” you admit with no shame.

He pours you a cup of water and asks, “Do you not have a chef to pre-make meals for you? My father insisted I have one, but I complained to my gramps about the lack of privacy and independence, and he gave up pretty quickly.”

You pause. It’s a stupid question to ask someone, from anyone else it’d drip in condescension, but you know he’s genuinely asking and it’s a valid question, just not one you’re ready to answer. So, with a careful shrug, you say simply, “I’m fine with the way things are.”

Gojo doesn’t sense the tense quiver of your voice, or if he does, he has enough tact to ignore it, so he continues the conversation. He talks to you about what being a frat president entails, and you tell him your experiences as the Treasurer. 

He also shares stories of his friends: the time ‘the gang’ snuck into the gym to put shaving cream in Toji’s locker after he had his room bubbled wrapped down to every single pair of boxers, each and every one of his friends’ drunk habits, and how he’s actually a lightweight so he sticks to beers most of the time but he hates the taste and actually much prefer cocktails. 

“Wait, wait,” you say between laughs, “you drink cosmos in secret ‘cause you don’t want your frat mates knowing their president actually hates beer?”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. But it isn’t my fault those things taste like wheat piss!”

You laugh harder. “They do! They totally do!”

“Has anyone ever said you have a pretty la—“

“Woah!” A voice yells out. “What’s going on here?”

You both turn to look at the wide-open door. Two men walk in, they’re in gym clothes, wide toothy grins on their faces as they stare between you and their president. You recognise them as second years, often hanging around Gojo in pictures or loitering in the Quad. 

One guy, a fake blond, wolf whistles when he sees you. “Satoru, you didn’t tell us you were having a girl over. It’s been a while; we rarely even see your bestie nowadays.”

“Yeah, this is a sight for sore eyes. This place was getting too much hotdog and not enough buns, if you know what I mean.”

When they both guffaw, you grimace. Their voices are grating, like sharp notes, and despite yourself, you cower in your seat. You hate the way they’re looking at you, in half desire and half repulsion — they’re enjoying the sight of a woman in their space, but they don’t know what to make of your attire. Usually, you don’t let people like them get to you, not their comments and not their stares. But something’s different, you’re more sensitive, less guarded. 

“Isn’t she your fiancé? We’ve heard all about her. The girls from Delta Sigma said she dresses like a witch, and well, they aren’t entirely wrong.”

“Get out.”

Three heads turn. Gojo’s standing; you hadn’t seen him move. He’s leaning on his fingertips, head hanging as he stares at his empty plate. No one says a thing. There’s no air in here anymore. Only silence, a grim, gut-wrenching silence. 

They stammer. “H-hey, man. What’s wrong?”

“Get. Out.”

“Come on, we’re just messing around,” the fake blonde chuckles nervously. 

Gojo looks up, slowly, like a creaking door. When his eyes settle on them, they stagger back with the force of his disappointment, and again with his wrath. Though you feel the tendrils of that infinite space between you, you don’t bear its impossible weight. 

With his body tense, veins bulging along his arms, broad shoulders pushed back ready for something you can’t quite grasp in this moment, you realise he really is jacked. And those muscles aren’t just for show or pressing girls against marble countertops. 

As great as it would be to be his friend, it’s even greater to not be his enemy. You didn’t realise it then, but you do now, if Gojo had ever really wanted to make someone disappear, he probably could have done so. 

“You would do well to remember that I, as descendent of the founder of Alpha Phi Delta, have a right to terminate any fraternity brother’s membership without a need for sufficient cause. Just because I’ve never exploited that clause doesn’t mean I’m above it. So, get out. Now.”

Cheeks red and heads hung low, they walk back out without sparing you another glance. 

Gojo sits back down, shoulders still tense. 

The silence hasn’t disappeared, but it has lightened, much more tolerable now. With an uncertainty in your movements, you push your knife and fork together and pat your lips dry. 

“Well, this has certainly been an eventful night,” you say. “I really ought to go, though.”

Gojo nods and takes your plate, leaving to go to the kitchen whilst you freshen up in the bathroom. 

When you come out, he’s already waiting outside with his hands tucked in his pockets, staring up at puffs of clouds he breathes into the night sky. There’s a sombre air around him, like you’re better off not disturbing him, but when he spots you from the corner of his eye, that air evaporates and he beams, literally brightens, practically shadowing the moon. 

“Hey, come on, I’ll drive you to your dorm,” he asserts with a smile. 

And he does. You get into his car for the second time of the night and watch the campus blur past you. Through the ten-minute car ride, he sings along to the pop songs on the radio, bopping his head to every beat like they’re coursing through his veins. 

“You don’t know these songs? Really?” 

He’s completely incredulous, looking at you as if you’ve grown two heads. You roll your eyes and jokingly explain you’re committed to the aesthetic. He finds that funny. The rest of the ride continues wordlessly.

“Alright, this is me,” you announce when he parks. He climbs out the car with you, leaning against his door as you shuffle awkwardly on your feet. “Despite certain parts of the time being…stiff, should we say, I had a lot of fun. Surprisingly.”

A tinge of red colours the tips of his ears. “Yeah, me too. I expected to lose my life, or at least a few limbs, at that graveyard, so I’m pretty happy with the turnout.”

You roll your eyes. “And I’m very happy I’m not covered in pig’s blood coming out of your frat house.”

“No, closest we had to that was the pasta sauce,” he chuckles. 

“Which was surprisingly delicious, by the way. You should cook more often instead of the junk food you eat.”

“Says you?” He pushes your shoulder lightly. “Miss Cup Noodles.”

“Whatever.”

The conversation dies there, laughter fading as both of you eye the doors of your dorm building. You pull your cloak tighter around you, irritated that, even though he’s just in jeans and a plain graphic tee, he’s seemingly unbothered by the temperature drop. 

“You should go in,” Gojo suggests, voice softer, barely louder than a whisper. 

You nod and make a step to go, but then a warm hand wraps around your wrist, tugging you back. He’s carrying the weight of it in his palm, thumb grazing your wrist. There’s electricity thrumming where he touches and you’re about to snatch your hand away before he tightens his grip. 

“Just a second,” he mutters, before pulling out something from his pockets. Something black. 

Your gloves. 

You forgot to put them on, having left them in the kitchen. 

He’s taking his time, smoothing the material over your knuckles, ensuring your fingers are tucked in properly. His thumb lingers on the curve of each finger, exploring the slopes. Your breath hitches as his hands envelope yours completely, his touch deliberate and light and there’s no other way to describe it: it’s positively reverent. 

The glove slide snugly into place, a second skin but they feel new, as if fresh from the machine, still warm. 

You shouldn’t let him reach for your other hand, shouldn’t just watch as he unfolds the other glove, slipping it on with much more care than you yourself had ever done. His eyes are watching the fabric consume more and more of your skin, until they meet the ends of your sleeve, and no skin remains. 

“Gojo,” you breathe out. 

He shakes his head, brows furrowing. “Satoru. Call me Satoru.”

When he finally looks up, your eyes meet and your pulse quickens, quick and short breaths pulling your chest up and down. You didn’t even realise one hand is clutching his shoulder whilst the other remains in his grip. And you certainly don’t notice that you’re standing much closer than before, only a hair’s breadth from finding out whether his lips are as soft and plush as his touch. 

“You smell really nice,” he whispers, thumb running across your knuckles, like he’s willing warmth into your hand. 

You’re so close it only takes one gust of wind to push you together, to taste what a future with him could mean, to seal the first date with something that’ll keep you up at night. Just one kiss, one bad decision and everything could fade away for a second. You could pretend he’s just a boy and you’re just a girl and this is a normal date, that you have a normal relationship and tomorrow you could go back to being arranged lovers. 

His lashes flutter, so long and wispy and you’re jealous. Flickering between your eyes and your lips, you know he’s searching for any sign that you might want this just as bad as he does. You’re craning your head back, back arched to reach him, and when your chest rubs against his for a millisecond, he shuts his eyes with a groan.  

“Hey! If it isn’t Gojo,” a gruff voice bellows.

You step back, gasping for air and desperately smoothing your skirt down as you give a shaky smile to the newcomer. He’s a tall, buff man wearing shorts and carrying a basketball. He pats Gojo on the back, oblivious to the tension, to the way his friend is pouting, grumbling about how he ‘ruined the moment.’

The man looks at you with a friendly enough smile, eyeing your appearance with nothing more than curiosity before he gives you one of those manly nods. 

“Whatcha doing at my girl’s dorm?” He asks. 

Clearing his throat, Gojo answers, “Just dropping my wi—I mean, my friend off. Yeah, just stopping by.”

The guy doesn’t look ready to stop talking. So you take the initiative to excuse yourself with an awkward kiss on the white-haired boy’s cheek and you whisper, “Goodnight...Satoru.”

You don’t wait for him to reply.

Just as you’re about to enter your dorm building, you hear a distinct, “Dude, I totally cockblocked you, didn’t I? Fuck, put that thing away. You’re gonna poke my fucking eyes out!”

You smile just as your phone pings.

[vamplvs]

TYPES OF KISSES

characters — bruce wayne, dick grayson, jason todd warnings — lots of fluff, a bit of swearing, and it gets a little suggestive in jason's notes — this is my first time back on tumblr in about a year or two so forgive me for any errors/organizational issues. also for the record i absolutely pictured battinson

BRUCE WAYNE. — trailing kisses

after a gala, bruce is always worn out. it's draining being in front of press and high society—if that's what gotham's equivalent of socialite extravagance can really be called—for hours on end. putting on a pretty smile, dancing around questions regarding the dark shadow looming over gotham's underbelly, and shaking hands with people he couldn't care less about. none of it is remotely interesting, and being trapped there for hours lest he face alfred's wrath is all the more frustrating.

"how was the night, b?" you speak softly as he sulks into your bedroom, his suit jacket long abandoned elsewhere in the manor.

he only hums in response.

"that bad, huh?" you put down your book and got up from the bed, smoothly making your way over to him. as you get closer, you catch the furrow of his brow and the dip of his frown. "c'mon, lets get to bed, yeah?"

"please." it's a quiet reply, low in the back of his throat.

you make quick work of his cufflinks and the buttons of his shirt, and in no time at all, he's in nothing more than a pair of briefs.

"why don't i go with you next time?" you pull him towards the bed, "i mean, i don't mind wrangling the public." in a swift motion, you fall onto the bed.

"i won't ask that of you."

"that's why i'm offering, baby," you smile up at him, motioning for him to lay down next to him. "if it'd ease your nerves, i would be happy to go with you." you press one kiss to his shoulder, then another just above that one until you reach the edge of his jaw.

bruce wraps a warm hand around you, pulling you closer to him, and you simply continue trailing kisses across his jaw, his cheeks, until just before you reach his lips.

"i would do just about anything if it meant making you happy."

"i know," he whispers at you, deep blue eyes staring intently into yours. a careful hand works its way to the back of your neck and pulls you into a kiss.

DICK GRAYSON. — silencing kisses

"ugh, he was just so-" you cut yourself off with a groan, scrubbing harder at the dishes in the sink. "i mean, seriously, who on earth does that?"

dick snickers behind you, a bemused smile dancing across his face.

"the nerve of some people! why would that question even cross your-" there's a clattering of dishes as one slipps out of your hand. "god dammit!"

"hey, c'mon," dick's hands are suddenly around your waist, "why don't we take a break?"

you turn to face him now, frustration painted on every plane of your face. "no, i need to finish the dishes, or they'll just sit-"

"we can finish them tomorrow," he says with an easy smile, and it's hard not to listen to his voice of reason when he looks at you that way. it's all soft eyes flitting across your face from your eyes to your lips.

"i know the way we are," you huff, "they'll never get done."

"i promise i'll help you tomorrow." he squeezes your waist reassuringly, pulling you towards him and away from the already doomed dream of finishing the dishes tonight.

"but you said you had to-"

"nope, i'm helping you with dishes now. that's the plan."

"but you're already behind on-"

he cuts you off with a kiss, slow and gentle. "i can worry about that tomorrow."

"you really shouldn't-"

he cuts you off yet again, a cheeky grin spreading on his face. "i can keep doing this all night if you really want me to."

"dick," you groaned, your head falling onto his shoulder. he only wrapped his arms around you tighter.

"i can tell when you're saying my name and when you're not, y'know," mirth lacing his words, and you can't help but crack a smile. "you're always telling me to take care of myself, so let me do that for you just this once, okay?"

JASON TODD. — breathless kisses

the adrenaline of the night is already starting to wear thin as you rounded a corner into a dark alley, jason trailing after you. laughter is in the air, and for the first time in a long time, a patrol feels like something more than a task to complete.

"careful, red, it looks like you're getting slow!" you call back to him, feet pounding across the pavement as you race forward towards the fire escape of the building ahead of you.

"oh, yeah?" he shouts in return, fighting to keep the smile out of his voice—even through the mask. he pushes himself forward, ignoring the burn in his legs from the exertion of the night. within a moment, he's past you, using a grapple to propel himself to the top of the building.

"that's cheating!" you scale the fire escape as quickly as you can, panting by the time you reach the top. jason is already a rooftop over by the time you get there, and it's a good thing you're faster on foot than he is—even if only just.

he simply laughs, continuing his dash to the safe house only a few blocks away. you manage to catch up to him, heart beating out of your chest as you both run in tandem, leaping over gaps between buildings and trying to trip each other up. it's only once you both run down yet another fire escape leading to the window of your shared apartment that jason pulls forward once and for all, a grin under his mask as he hears you groan behind him.

in one swift movement, he slides the window open and slips inside. once you get inside, jason already has his mask off and there's a smug smirk on his face.

"what was that about me getting slow?" his chest is still heaving.

you can't help but laugh. "only because you cheated!"

"no such thing in gotham, baby." he pulls you forward by the arm, pressing a short kiss to your lips.

you smile at him, rolling your eyes and still breathing heavily. jason's eyes flit between yours and your lips for no longer than a moment before he kisses you again.

between light, breathless kisses, his hands find themselves wrapped around your waist, and before you know it he has you both dropping onto the couch. your legs are spread over his lap, and you pull away for just a second, forehead pressed to his.

"as much as i love the whole body armor look, why don't we take all this off, yeah?" you murmur.

"i like the sound of that."

[mossterunderthebed]

oho. ohohoho. now to make it goyuu... i need a knight au

ooh what if they're from different kingdoms. and yuuji is the king's only remaining relative so he is unfortunately the Heir. and was dragged to the palace after his uncle found where his father had taken his grandson away from the palace to live out his days in ignominity because he was once a great general but his son sukuna who was greater even than him instigated a violent takeover and disposed of half the previous nobility

and hes a tyrant but a lot of the commoners love him because to be fair his actual policies arent too bad just bloody as fork and super strict and hes big into conquest which hey makes money and brings their country glory so it works.

enter gojo.

emperor of neighboring empire thats not technically much bigger in terms of land mass but has way more people (this has advantages and disadvantages). and yuuji has risen to the rank of general and is known as the tiger of the west which he thinks is embarrassing. and he hates that that's what the people know about him and what they like about him because he wants to be a good ruler. but he doesnt know how only he doesnt think it should be like sukuna rules

and then gojo who ofc would lead his own armies so he and yuuji end up clashing in an unexpected place. and gojo uses guerilla/ambush tactics they werent expecting bc they thought they had the advantage of numbers and yuuji is captured.

and he expects to be tortured and stuff but this gojo guy is actually... really nice? and insanely smart? and really funny too? and pretty handsome too wow ok. and then they kind of end up becoming friends?? and yuuji confides that he doesnt know how to rule well but he really admires gojo whos so smart and has gathered such good people to him (unlike many people who have critisised him as being honourless because of his tactics but its because he and yuuji both understand the value of a life as opposed to expectations of 'character' which is actually just a load of crap the nobles to make themselves sound/look good)

and yea i dont know things snowball and in the end they have a long-lasting long distance love affair until gojo's heir (yuuta) comes of age. bc surprise surprise gojo never wanted to rule esp not after the betrayal of his closest advisor and best friend in his youth. and finally he goes to live w yuuji who disposed of his own uncle in a very moving morally heart-clenching scene

and they live happily ever after and travel back and forth a lot and every time gojo visits his home he acts outrageously but hes still always just as intimidating as ever and even in his late forties h makes a soldier who spoke out of turn piss himself in a public spar.

and he and yuuji are insufferably chaotic and loving until they die and are buried side by side on the land yuuji rehabilitated (his childhood home w his grandfather that was wrecked by sukuna) and they plant little yellow and blue wildflowers over the graves and years in the future the two crossbreed and spawn a lovely little new breed of flower that symbolizes the powerful kind of love that would wait for years and years. a patient kind of love.

and centuries later records are found of them and the graves are unearthed and little artifacts are found and their letters and etc etc etc and their love story becomes known as one of the greatest of all time and stories and plays and poetry are written about it and their letters are translated and published and are turned into a saying 'i would write you a thousand letters' which basically means 'i would love you with dedication through great obstacles and hardship' or more simply, 'i will love you even when its hard.'

and yeap thats the that.

Bonus: at the very very very end theres a little cutscene of their reincarnations meeting for the first time after accidentally bumping into each other and gojo drops something so yuuji kneels and offers it to him and for a second they both get mad deja vu and just stop and stare at each other like they're the most beaufiful thing the other has seen and for that moment rest of the world doesnt exist

*holds back tears* and then they fall in love and get married and adopt some cats and maybe a kid and live in a cozy apartment and stay together for a whole 'nother lifetime and retire to the Sendai countryside and tend to a garden full of Their Flowers which they find out on the second date are both of their favorites for a reason neither of them can quite describe and ughhhhhhhhhhhh

sorry i got emotional. ok bye.

horniest battle moments:

- taking your ally's weapon out of their scabard to use yourself

- using someone else's shoulder as a rifle stand

- nudging someone's chin up with the tip of your weapon

- freezing with your blades against one another's throats, breathing into each other's mouths

[hvnlygrl]

hii! for your celebration (congrats!) wb a rafe cameron blurb based off no. 1 party anthem. maybe something where he meets a girl at a party and basically becomes enamored with her?

no. 1 party anthem. (AG epilogue)

pairing — rafe cameron x fem!reader

word count — 0.7k

synopsis — rafe sees you at a party and can’t help but be drawn to you

song — no. 1 party anthem by arctic monkeys

notes — but i love this request and i love ur blog aesthetic so much its so fire — tysm for sending in an ask!!

join my follower celebration — until feb. 3rd!

alaskan girl masterlist.

rafe was never the type to be obsessed, but here he was, letting his eyes follow you from spot to spot as you chatted and laughed with old friends. he was surprised at how many people you knew despite never having seen you around the island before.

you eluded confidence in every sense of the word, and he couldn’t help but be drawn to you instantly. there was just something about you that intrigued him, something that made him need to know you.

but rafe couldn’t make himself get up and go over to you, so he just opted to watch from a distance as he sipped on his drink.

you seemed to be totally unaware of the set of eyes that trailed you from group to group, that is, until you made eye contact with them.

you watched the boy’s eyes shoot away for a beat, his cheeks going flush with brief embarrassment. it made you wonder how long he’d been watching you for.

you tapped your friend, discreetly pointing in his direction, “who is that?”

she scanned the room, confused for a moment before realizing who you were talking about.

“oh no, y/n don’t even think about it,” she warned precariously.

“what?” you raised a curious brow at her, “why?”

“that’s rafe cameron,” she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “obx’s number one residing douchebag and womanizer.”

you laughed in response, “yea, and you have the best judge of character, right?”

with that reply, she knew there was nothing she could do to change your mind. “ugh. fine, just don’t say i didn’t warn you, babe.”

“yea, yea,” you wave her off, “what happened to not judging a book by it's cover?”

she shakes her head at you, watching you as you move to the other side of the room. you find a semi-secluded area on a large sectional that you can get comfy on, allowing your eyes to trail back up to rafe.

he looks back over to where you were originally standing, heart beating in his throat when he realizes you’re no longer there. he’s almost sure that your friend was telling you about how he’s the devil incarnate and probably much worse, and his confidence drops to an all-time low.

and then he sees you, alone on the couch, looking back at him with a sweet, almost angelic smile.

he chugs the rest of his drink, adjusts the backward hat on his head and makes his way over to you. “now or never,” he whispers to himself.

“hi,” he gives you a soft smile when he reaches the couch.

“hi there,” you smile back, “what’s up?”

“nothing much,” he shrugs nervously, “i’m rafe.”

“y/n,” you hum back, extending a hand out to him. he shakes it and then reverts back to standing awkwardly. “wanna sit down? you’re making me nervous, rafe.”

he chuckles at the statement, cheeks flushing red again as he finds a spot next to you. “are you new here?”

“yes and no,” you scrunch your nose up as you try and find the right words. “i grew up here when i was a kid, but my mom just moved back so this summer is kind of a trial run to see if i like it enough that i’m gonna stay for good.”

“and if you hate it?”

“then it’s back to alaska for me,” you take a sip of your drink before glancing at his reaction.

“alaska? that’s far away,” he gapes at you.

“yea, and cold as fuck.” he laughs at your blunt statement. “i’m really hoping i’ll like it here, though.”

rafe can tell by your tone that it’s meant to have a double meaning. he smirks, more sure of himself now, “i think you will.”

“oh yea? how so?”

“cause you’ll have the best tour guide in the obx,” he grins at you, hand raised in triumph.

“how could i hate it?” you grin back, raising your cup in toast, “to loving obx.”

“to loving obx,” rafe can’t help but feel as though he’s only fallen deeper for you in the span of the conversation and part of that scares him. but he also knows that this could be his chance to start over with someone that doesn’t know all the bad shit about him and his family.

patrons at the party watch in awe as the two of you sit for hours, just laughing and telling stories, all of them completely shocked at the lack of moves rafe tries to put on you.

-> back to masterlist

[eternalera]

so people have been wondering why caitvi is a lot less popular now within the arcane fandom than ships with timebomb or jayvik and as someone who ships them let me explain mostly why this is happening, of course mostly from the writing perspective as there is likely some misogyny included in said reason but thats just what ive heard and not seen (this does NOT mean it isnt happening though). and im also not including it because im just addressing why even some caitvi shippers (that i know) ended up not caring for it in s2

(click read more because this... this is a long one)

first off im stating that this is just a combination of what ive seen from other people and my own opinions. in your opinion these points can be completely dogshit and thats okay because they're opinions. not fact. with that being said lets get started.

1. Tension, s2 act 2 kills almost ALL of the tension that the first act sets up. in the first act you have them getting together, you have them finally kissing and breaking the previous tension in s1 then to keep people interested in the ship in the same episode they have them breakup. and this works people talked a SHIT ton about this and were going feral over it, looking at the trailer and seeing 'oh look at emo vi and her dictator gf!!' and even the 'there are two ways to handle a gay break up' memes. it was all over.

people were feral, waiting for the next act to see them interact and have beef with each other (before inevitably getting back together because we all knew it would happen). but in act two we dont really get that. we get the aftermath from vi's perspective and kinda cait's???? but then we have their interaction and people are hyped at this moment. because this is the moment. the one that they were all waiting for and there's a small scuffle before... it stops.

vi calls cait cupcake and... all if forgiven rather quickly in that scene (obviously in act 3 they have some more drama but we'll talk about it later). they have their moment and its cute. you have cait folding after being called cupcake, its cute. but thats just the thing. its nothing else but cute. there are still stakes dont get me wrong but that moment is just... so bad for cait's character. she has the whole dictator arc and it just takes vi calling her a pet name for her to switch sides.

and yes its adorable, its everything you want in a ship. but it doesnt really make sense when you take in account everything that they've been building up for cait. her dictator arc, her gassing zaun, training with ambessa, losing her mother, breaking up with vi. it all seems undermined by vi calling her a petname and all of the sudden the tension is taken out of their relationship.

they get back together (sorta) and help plan to take down ambessa and that's all it took. its like having a really evil villain who did a ton of bad things but the good guy gives them a pep talk (vi doesnt even do that) and all of the sudden their mind changes completely

it's not realistic, it doesn't make sense.

then you have act 3 and where vi actually confronts cait about ambessa and her going along with her actions and they have a small argument thats kinda just resolved by cait saying that she knows what she did wrong and that she tried helping jinx not get arrested too and then BAM there's a shift in the argument and then we're back to jinx and it never gets brought up again (correct me if im wrong)

their relationship follows this, happy moment, create something that causes tension, build up tension, refuse to follow through.

its like its tightening a string on an instrument to get a tone but before you pluck it the string loosens and all of the sudden you get this really really dull and kinda disgusting sound that doesn't leave you feeling 100% satisfied in the end

or if you're an artist almost filling in a circle completely but at the last second you color just a little bit outside the lines. it's not satisfying.

2. The sex scene, this is just mostly stuff ive seen and while i dont agree with all of it i must say that they do have their valid points of thinking that the scene was a little misplaced. most of the complaints of seen of this is that vi was out of character and that she should've been looking for jinx since it was implied that jinx was going to kill herself to 'fix' everything. and while i dont think vi couldve really known this i do see where theyre coming from as vi is inherently protective of jinx and her actions and even if there was the slightest chance that she might harm herself vi would do anything in her power to stop it and... she just doesnt.

when cait unlocks the cell she doesnt rush out to jinx, she just wallows a bit longer and mopes (WHICH IS FUCKING VALID BTW). then you have cait talk to her and... SEX. yeah there is other stuff between that but some people felt that they shouldve had them have their talk and then had vi rush out to help jinx.

a lot of people also felt that cait was taking advantage of vi in this moment (i do NOT agree with this at all) to an emotional extent and saying how the scene didnt feel right because vi wasnt in her best state (i agree slightly with this) and that the sex in the cell wasnt really reclaiming anything from all those years of being in the cell like the directors originally intended it to

then you have people saying that it was misplaced (and i kinda agree) and that it just felt so sudden for the both of them especially considering everything with them and then there's the next reason...

3. Caitlyn herself, there was so much drama about her character. in the first arc you have people defending her actions and who were ready to die for her and people getting mad at her, saying she was the worst and that she didnt deserve vi after what she did to her. this also comes with her character being set up to do a lot of evil shit in the future. there was drama (when is there not) and that meant the majority of people loved or hated her with a slim minority not really caring her for at all.

she was implied to have gassed zaun (actually its not even really implied as she, vi, and the gang do it that one episode in a montage and they actually show them doing it for like... a scene or two) and overall just have been a really shitty person to zaunites. she slept with maddie (which people HATED) and they kept leading up to her being the big bad the person who vi would have to convince but once again... they meet and all tension is ruined.

cait's character is one of the best and worst things in arcane. they did such a good job setting her up only to fumble last second and yeah... thats enough to effectively kill a ship as one half of it is the other character (assuming is a monogamy ofc) and 50% is not passing. people arent going to be as committed to a ship when they hate the other character in it and thats just a fact

4. Time, it just... didnt work. timebomb got a full episode (practically) devoted to it and jayvik was kinda in there as crumbs. not to mention that their entire arc is sprinkled a lot more effectively and more long lasting throughout s2 of arcane. with timebomb THEY GOT A WHOLE EPISODE

people already like both characters of ekko and jinx so yeah theyre going to go feral over what coudlve been. the dance, everything and it effectively builds up tension with showing us how good everything couldve been and fully releases it in a satissfying way with ekko's leave. with jayvik you have him going insane and realizing that he has to kill viktor in order to stop what happens in the future (GIVING US THE ANSWER TO WHAT HAPPENED IN EP6 and this also gives us more tension in the relationship when viktor comes back).

you have ekko stopping jinx from ending her life (another reason people didnt like the sex scene cause jinx was actively trynna off herself during it) and telling her to give living another chance because you can build something more you can start again. and you also have the implications of them drawing on themselves in the artbook and just in general during the show. you have the hot air balloon contraption that they create. its everything

jayce then meets with viktor in the room and there is tension so much tension and it all goes to them. then you have jayce confronting and giving himself to viktor on the battlefield and its so well written. now, personally i have my issues with how jayce talk not jutsu-ed viktor into stop being evil or whatever (personally that scene was like a 6/10 for me). "BUT WAIT WHAT ABOUT YOUR COMPLAINTS WITH VI AND CAIT AND CAIT FOLDING AFTER BEING CALLED CUPCAKE?!?!" they would be lessened if we were shown them talking and discussing what happened, what went wrong. with them we dont do that, we dont get the release of them regretting what they've done, their actions. that declaration of love.

with jayvik we do (love can be interpreted as romantic or platonic) and they probably spend more time in that scene talking about each other and how much they care for one another than caitvi do in the entirety of s2 when it comes to discussing their relationship.

basically what happened was that the writers confirmed 'yes theyre canon now, nothing else is going to happen to them. okay time to focus on other things' and caitvi got sidelined SO HARD in the end that come people stopped caring for them entirely and put more attention to ships and dynamics that were getting more attention and love from the show.

basically thats all i could think of and its 1am so sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes lol. tell me if i got anything wrong, if you agree or just your general opinions on the matter because this is what i could find/gather about them. have a good day/night everybody :)

[tainbocuailnge]

thinking about the terrible victoria arc and how it could be less terrible. taking chapter 14 as premise & reverse engineering how to better get to that emotional payoff (namely the babel squad finally getting closure for theresa's death and babel's downfall & the fate of the sarkaz being severed) without throwing the base concepts of the other chapters out completely i think for starters the entirety of chapter 9 should just be an event instead. so much of the dublinn plotline was in an event already (what the firelight casts) and ever since ch9 most of "the dublinn plotline" has just been eblana ominously hovering in the distance, its just bloating things with no meaningful contributions. that does mean taking horn and bagpipe out too, much as I like them, but I think they can shine better when they're not competing with so many other white women for empty screentime anyway.

then you want the victoria arc proper to have you meet the self salvation corps asap after sneaking into the city and the core tension is going to be between siege and her gang as face of the nobility even if they individually might not agree with that label, the self salvation corps as representative of the common people of londinium who may hate the nobles but still have their own unsustainable british nationalism to work through, and rhodes island as altruistic outsiders whose reasons for getting involved don't actually have to do with victoria itself. clovisia was obviously supposed to be an amiya expy before she got forgotten almost immediately after her debut, but keeping the focus on these three groups would ideally also get some use out of that.

I said in a post i made after i read ch11 that it really isn't hard to see what siege's gang and the steam knight are supposed to represent, the symbol of victoria's honor and glory was betrayed by the greed of its nobles and its rightful heir is running a street gang, if you want to save victoria you have to decide what kind of "victoria" is worth saving to you. so in the victoria arc that doesn't suck these three parties are gonna have to actually talk about and contend with their inevitably clashing images and visions of victoria, and steam knight is gonna have to be a mandatory boss.

I also feel like manfred was fought too early for how much backstory weight he has to the babel gang and how long he sticks around after that. as if in ch10 they straight up didn't know yet that victoria arc was gonna end in being about babel, which might genuinely have been the case. so in the better victoria arc im making up in my head his bossfight is gonna get pushed back a few chapters.

like i'm thinking first victoria chapter you fight steam knight, it starts with meeting the self salvation corps and has you quickly throw everything on that gamble of getting siege the sword because both the glasgow gang and the corps buy enough into the idea of a past glorious victoria that can be brought back to try that only to have to face the decrepit husk of that glorious past in order to get it. siege can be passive in this one still, because her doing basically nothing is going to last only one chapter here instead of two and a half and it's going to serve a point.

so now you have the sword but both the gang and the corps are quite shaken about how they obtained it, and in the second chapter tensions between the three factions begin to rise when the obvious ideological disagreements about where to go next become impossible to postpone. you fight damazti here because the cluster is gonna be an awesome plot device for pushing mutual distrust and paranoia. honestly I don't even remember what the deal with damazti cluster was or what it was supposed to contribute so in the better victoria arc they do something about that too probably. and siege is forced to form actual opinions and say them out loud, and they're going to differ from what the rest of the glasgow gang is saying.

then by the third chapter you're able to sort out that internal conflict enough to finally muster the forces to fight manfred, this is probably where you get siege actually forming the exemplars and stuff, showing leadership and ideals and all that. i think allerdale can eat shit and so can the npc members of siege's gang so I'm cutting them out, we're putting all the focus on forcing these royal fake street punks from siege's posse and plain londinium factory workers from the self salvation corps to find common ideological ground. i like delphine though delphine can stay. there was a scene in one of these chapters with siege and amiya talking about their responsibility as figureheads that i liked (because it almost did something with siege) that i think would fit here, and it's an obvious chance to do something with clovisia too. like this is a good point to talk about more abstract ideas of leadership and turning people into figureheads and the way people will turn to a single person to save them, to start making it a bit more about theresa too. so here you get rhodes trying not to drag their feet because it's the part where it starts actually getting personal for them, materially because several members have a history with manfred but conceptually because there's an incoming shift of focus

defeating manfred marks rhodes island having to admit that they're very much in it for theresa and the sarkaz and their own personal history rather than just altruism towards "victoria", vague as that concept has become these past few chapters, so you get a somewhat more natural shift into the sanguinarch and the feranmut skeleton and finally theresa because we can sensibly compare the ideal and reality of the glorious war-torn homeland between victoria and kazdel, and the more abstract throughline of where the border between honoring the past and being dragged down by it lies. logistically the manfred fight would probably be in order to get out of the city and investigate the vampire shit so he'd serve as a kind of border between this being about victoria/londinium and this being about something beyond that in that way too.

and ch13 and 14 is when things finally started picking up so I don't think they actually need all that much tweaking beyond making it consistent with the things changed in the stuff before it. and probably cutting out some more characters. because the worst part really is that the focus was just all over the fucking place so just keeping the cast more manageable would do a lot. i think that teacher woman was interesting enough to be allowed to stay and that guy who killed himself in front of the sanguinarch was fun he can stay too. but i feel like the nightingale plotline might have to go.

[sirsagrell]

The holidays have passed so it's time to yap critically about Veilguard some more.

So. I like to project themes and meanings on Dragon Age stories that weren't even necessarily intentionally put there by the writers. And how well Dragon Age used to lend itself to that favorite pastime of mine, was, I think, one of its main strengths.

Hear me out.

Dragon Age is a game, and a game is not a book. A Dragon Age narrative is not done being written until you the player play through it and fill in the blanks. And you don't just play a role, as in define the player character and make choices for them. Through the interplay between your character and the world, trough the influence you have on the world and the people in it, you pick out the themes and meanings that your very own Dragon Age narrative explores and expresses.

It used to be a damn fantasy writer simulator. No wonder it inspired so much creativity.

Some of it was intentional, and some, probably, not. Some, but far from all of it was due to the infamous Dragon Age Grey Morality(TM).

(Where that Grey Morality(TM) was executed well, and where not is a separate conversation, and that conversation has very much been had, extensively, over the past ten years. I'm not getting into that here.)

Most of this effect, however, relied on the simple fact that Dragon Age never presumed to tell you what the correct themes and meanings of a Dragon Age story were. (Yes, you could arrive at some really unfortunate themes and meanings with the story building blocks given to you, yes, I know. But you never had to.)

You were asked questions (Yes, some of them were stupid questions). But if you were in any way interested in thinking about the messy source material presented to you, you immediately arrived at questions even deeper than the writers ever intended to ask, and weren't some of them just fascinating.

Veilguard, I feel, almost stopped asking questions. Worse, when it does try to ask them, it tells you what the answers are supposed mean. Literally. In a tooltip (!) in the interface (!!). There's a correct way to read Dragon Age now, somehow.

I'd say the most egregious example of this shift is Rook's unquestionable heroism.

We, Dragon Age and I, used to ponder the meaning of being celebrated as the hero, regardless of what kind of person you really were. Or the futility of trying to be the hero when all the societal systems work against you. Or the terror of being the hero, when you're suddenly forced to become a whole societal system yourself. My Dragon Age protagonists had a really sad and shitty time being protagonists. 'Twas good for their souls.

Enter Veilguard and Rook.

You start the game and you're introduced to Rook, the game's hero. You are repeatedly reassured that you're the hero, and Were Chosen For Reason. You can attempt to express doubt about maybe having made the situation worse, and you're immediately assured by your companions that you shouldn't. "You got this Rook", the game repeatedly says. (It's thankless work, fixing the world, Solas shares, but Solas is from a different game and probably didn't get the memo.) Everyone is actually super thankful to Rook, even the people you left to be blighted, you're a universally good influence, after all, and you couldn't be two places at once, any reasonable person understands. You're doing your best. Don't you worry, your best will be enough.

Oh, and just in case you're still having doubts, Rook, all your antagonists are mindless and/or power-hungry fools, and, like, elfy Thanos. It is objectively correct to oppose them. By doing so you're not just saving people but helping the world move past the violence of the past and into a brighter safer future.

Honestly, I don't think I have ever played a game that went to such lengths to assure you you're the Good Guy here. I've never played Marvel games though, are they like that? Is this why…

This is getting too long. So I'll sum it up as best I can.

Veilguard isn't juvenile in meaning, not really. In tone, yes, in meaning, for the most part, no. It does tackle some heavy stuff. But Veilguard knows what exactly it means to say and it will beat you over the head with its message, until you know it too.

And that, to me, for a Dragon Age story, is just sad.

[truthinquotations]

While i absolutely love malevolent and everything about it from its insane concept to the fact that everything is done by one fucking guy i cant help but laugh at the fact that theres no difference between supernatural and malevolent in terms of queerbating 😭😭 i think I’m cursed to like homoerotic media made by straight men who wont ever commit to the bit they created

I’m not saying that i want them to be together like explicitly or whatever its just that i know that theres no reason to add certain things in the plot other than to create this kind of ambiguous state. And i know its not just me cos my bestie who got me into malevolent and recently watched all supernatural says the same thing😭😭 So now we’re just making jokes about how stereotypically “bury ur gays” or “make them go their separate ways” the ending will be lmao in true fashion of the best queerbait media

Top 3 are: 1) they get separated and go their separate ways cos John wants to “find himself” 2) they get separated and john goes to find lily (and don’t get me started on lily that whole thing is fucking HILARIOUS to me) 3) one of them dies and the other is forever in mourning

Again i love malevolent but the last seasons really r trying it in this department 😭😭😭

Edit. Lmao i know its a controversial take so not surprised at the comments. First of all i cant be “wrong” about a feeling I have its just how i FEEL about the show in the later seasons. You can say you disagree but to say that im wrong about my feelings just doesnt work lol im not here to defend a thesis. Secondly i know for a fact it’s not just me and my bestie feeling this way since yk this post also has ppl who agree with me🤷. If you get what I’m talking about you immediately understood my point, if you don’t, u don’t, its ok, I’m not advocating to change the podcast lmao

Pls stop with the whole “a lot of people see it as a aromantic relationship they dont have to be a couple friends tell ily to each other often” respectfully IN MY OPINION they have passed that line of friendship a long time ago. You can interpret it however you want same as I can interpret it however I want. But as a person who has a couple fandoms where i love the friendships and platonic relationships of characters i have never genuinely paid attention to to the amount of ily characters say bcos yk it would be a regular amount😭😭 Same as it never struck me weird if some characters been jealous in a friendship bcos it was clear that it was a friendship pure and simple. Which js why iI dont feel like jarthur is written as friends even if they never get together (which i dont even want lol i dont see how it would fit into plot atp). Honestly just how many times yall tell your friends that you love them or be ready to kill their other friends 💀💀

Some moments in malevolent feels eerily similar to supernatural and tw and if you get it you get. Two that come to mind is how in spn they had dean have sex with a female angel when everyone obvs been shipping him with cas. And how teen wolf brought dereks little sister that was practically his copy in every way on screen and alluded to stiles having a crush on her 😭. I get similar vibes when john brings lily out of fucking nowhere as his “light” (Or purpose or tether to humanity smth like that i forget the exact wording). I died laughing when hearing that like im sorry i get what he’s saying you don’t have to explain it to me but he brings her up so abruptly and i was just sitting there mentally asking myself “what do you know about her??? Who IS lily???” Like we’re suddenly meant to think lily is a bigger influence during those 2 months on johns humanity then arthur is😭😭 i mean come on even arthur was like ???

i wouldn’t be as surprised if they showed us some interaction like lily reading to arthur or smth like us hearing her voice or idk her last fucking name at least😭😭 something that would make it clear why he’s bringing up that character from fuck knows when other then its the only female character that can be considerably linked to john as his “light” in this scenario.

You can view their relationship however you want if you dont see it perfect then its not meant for you. I however genuinely cant view this as just friendship, the whole being jealous to the point of wanting to kill someone who seems as devoted to your partner as you are, refusing to be parted even when opportunity WAS presented and so on. If you can thats great, media is not meant to be interpreted in one way I can say its not friendly and you can say its your fav aromantic duo 🤷

I dont even think Harlan is doing it on purpose we just have very different definitions of what platonic means lmao. However the increase of these moments in the last seasons felt kind of purposeful to me lol which was what brought this on. And pls dont tell me its cos they got closer in the latter seasons arthur killed himself in s1 they’ve been close😭😭😭

I just don’t think that a person who hasn’t heard that harlan wont make them a couple, hasn’t heard a bit of discourse, listened to the podcast and certain moments of “ily” or their separation anxiety yada yada yada and would never think they have romantic feelings for each other or that its not where its headed.

Also if I feel like i experienced this exact same thing with media before and it was called queerbait and universally acknowledged as such I’m not gonna reinvent in my head definition of friendship and platonic love to fit what was previously labelled as queerbait there, Im gonna call it queerbait. Especially since it feels like every other media that was labelled as such before. Im not advocating to change the podcast or cancel it or whatever im expressing an opinion i have on my blog that i know other ppl even if not a lot agree with.

I stand with my cancelled take 💀💀💀

[blossoms-phan]

✨philm club✨ rewatch - october 19th, 2015

liveshow - notes/thought yaps under the cut!

i love how they’re explaining how they do their individual liveshows to each other like im not saying they were just sat in the other room twice a week watching the other persons liveshow but like surely you have some idea of how it usually goes lmao

“im quite mellow today we’ve been in a car for a while” phil does seem like he has more mellow/chill energy in this one i imagine they were tired but also so go go go at this point resting for a second would only slow them down more

6 year friendiversary and dinof anniversary! It's so insane to me that it was only 6 years atp like this dnp was not too long after i became obsessed with them and i blinked and now its 15 years

dan “reassess your lives” and phil “i think you should be thanking them”- i think this is fascinating and ties into how today dan still automatically goes “im so sorry” when people say i've been watching you for x years and it makes us all want to shake him by the shoulders and say don't apologize silly man!!!!!!!!! take the compliment we mean it with love!!!!!!

dan exposing his ass to audience in leeds and years later during wad great stuff 

phil smacking his head on stage wow some things really don't change 

“calm down” in a silly voice from dan always reminds me of the cLaM dOWN airplane northern voice live clip 

i haven’t rewatched a liveshow in so long so much hair adjusting 

they sound so british sometimes 

“dan do you know what yaoi is” this is so funny to me you are asking the poster boy for yaoi day in 2024

looking at pics of p!atd on tumblr COME BACK TO ME TUMBLRINAA they r right btw i love pretty odd 

“dan choke me with your legs” why r u reading that. whore. see in 2015 knowing that a literal child probably said this its kinda cringe but also me with sister daniel and like all the Thigh in general these days so who am i to speak

“i like being remembered because that doesnt happen often with the celebrity folks”  :( this is sweet i know this time was A Lot and in general the radio stuff wasn't for them in the end and they appreciate that it was cool and fun but dan also mentioned how it was annoying to just be brushed off or being in a position where you're just forced to chase after all these big named people that dgaf about you but its just nice to see they noticed when they were remembered and the 1975 mention i could write an essay about 2018 dan and the album abiior

phil stopped the bus for fish and chips hehe i literally had fish and chips today this is cray. i hope they actually had them for dinner this day i would love to have a parasocial fish and chip night with them

you are pal creators :’) 

editing tips mention they are so unserious 

i am so emotionally attached to the london apartment but referring to it as “the house” when they have an actual House now is really getting to me 

aww talking about tabinof :’( i cant remember if i've talked about this before but there was hugee “drama” back in the day when it was first announced of people accusing them of selling out or some dumb shit when this wasn't another copycat youtuber ghostwritten book they poured their hearts into it as silly and fun as it was and the way dan talks about it really shows that i hope they were proud of it and still are

dan you don't really have the same hair but ok 

talking about the australian today show and they were just on it last month!! why does that make me so emo 

bitten right on the florida

bakeee offfff mention this is why i loved liveshows like just yapping about the shows they watch and cry over together

dan self aware get over it crashing out “so what he enjoys a themed drink” he is so silly dfjfkdfksfkj i love this part

can i live in that autumn moment?

rare what phil has been listening to! movie soundtracks ok king

dan being a little pretentious talking about their differing tv show opinions and phil just mocking his hand movements and giving a 2 word review their dynamic is so dear to me

Is this an unpopular opinion idk i can’t stand 3d movies  

black and blue as always

phil’s laugh and look and dan going “you cheeky little bugger” at him putting “phil and dan” on the chair page<3

hearing them talk about tour in the tatinof days when it was their first go and things like how its amazing hearing people sing to the preshow playlist in the context of like right now is soooooo as a longtime fan who yearned to attend tatinof while it was happening but couldn’t and finally actually experienced them and the magic of a dan and phil show and things like singing hot to go with phannies just a few months ago god im going to miss this era sm

the apocalypse/ai/technology tangent is scarily relevant right now and from nearly 10 years ago wow hashtag we’re all doomed

susan boyle after the amazingdan reaction video lmaoo

they were really doing the most during this era like omg so many promises of things coming soon among the tour and spooky week and book and they were literally just home for one day after being in a car for hours earlier that day like they seem in good spirits in this one and i know its just chill chatting for an hour but boys! take a breather! 

overall i enjoyed this one! i don't rewatch old liveshows a lot but this is a fun way for us all to commit to rewatching and discussing one a week bc there's always so many fun little forgotten details and i think it would be fun to continue even post break! i was very tired while watching this and somehow still wrote out this very long yappy list of notes which are really just a stream of consciousness which no one will read probably but i humbly present them anyways <3

[lostsoulaltair]

Owari no Seraph Chapter 143 - Analysis and Review. SPOILERS Ahead

今日は皆さん。久しぶりですね。

Hey everyone, it's been a while hehe...Soo, given that the chapter was released in Japan, we'll have to wait until it gets released on this side till Jan 10th. Nevertheless, I want to give an insight.

P.S: As usual, ships are excluded and everything's held within a neutral view.

The chapter starts retaking from chapter 142, an encounter between the Shinoa Squad and the 5th Progenitor Ky Luc. There is an eventual fight of willpower given that Shinoa is aiming to turn Ky Luc into a cursed gear from the black series so Mitsuba can wield. Along this, we have a flashback on which it is revealed as to why Ky Luc followed Urd Geales with utmost loyalty.

The reason behind is because Urd wants to die. But not die like a demon but as a human. To reach mortality in order to die like the human he was born.

Upon hearing such dream, Ky Luc was amazed by such dream, promising himself to carry on and live until Urd fulfilled his dream.

Given this, Ky Luc's will was all that kept him from turning into a demon, nevertheless, given that Shinoa was devouring him as well, Shinoa was able to feel his feelings and memories, making her overwhelmed, nevertheless, the squad was there for her so she could manage to turn Ky into a demon.

She apologizes to him for that and at the end we have an Owari Kaisen. [Shinoa made the new demon as two fingers. Don't ask what the author was thinking cause Idk either haha].

As for the end of the chapter, Shinoa now knows what Urd and Rigr are thinking along Yuu's location.

Analysis

First of all, many might consider or may think that the portrayal of strength between Shinoa and Ky Luc was unfair along that her power up was random...

I will say that the way things are paced is not exactly the best. The story is reaching its eventual end and yes, there are things that could have been detailed much better or polished nevertheless, let's not forget details that have been from the very beginning.

What do I mean?

Ever since the LN were published, it has been stated that Shinoa is far stronger than other characters. That includes Mahiru, Guren, the adults even by Shikama. But why's that?

Simple, Shinoa has had the ability to accept demons without losing her heart, without needing to do trials like other wielders as seen in old chapters and the last one which was chapter 102 till chapter 106. [That's when Yuu fought went to save Mika, then fought against him to make him his cursed gear].

Now, following suit, why did Shinoa never do such task when she had the power but chose until now?

Well, it all goes with the narrative but also with her emotional development. What do I mean?

Perhaps people what makes them feel like something's wrong is not only the narrative but also the building of "expectation". Long ago, I was actually pissed, angry or rather upset with how things turned in OnS in terms of story, I felt no motivation to write or the sort but then, along a friend, we started to consider other aspects from what we actually expected but rather, what the characters were displaying emotional wise and rationality wise.

Which means, the characters are driven regarding how they feel, what they aspire, what they want, along what they know about their own selves.

With Shinoa, she thought she had found out what she wanted, she thought that because she had fallen in love and was together in a squad, she had truthfully lived when in reality, she was taking the baby steps required to live.

As Kouhei Kadono's LNs suggest. In order to have the right to die, you must live first.

But returning to the topic. Shinoa had a massive advantage against Shikama not because of raw power alone. It was first seen she could take any demon into her and use them (LN which came to portrayal on chapter 133). But let's remember that Rigr made certain Shikama's powers were constantly restrained due to the place they managed to create, giving Shinoa an advantage.

In the case of Ky Luc, Shinoa was able to bust her own teammates so they could actually pull a fight against a beast like Ky Luc.

Her being able to know how to create a demon, this was shown in early chapters when Mikaela turned into a demon. Knowledge is power and in a war where life is at stake, such knowledge comes in handy.

The next question, why did Ky Luc lose if he was powerful?

One of the topics that it's heavily touched in Ky Luc's backstory is that Ky had no sense of why he wanted to live. He had a bind that all he knew was that he had to survive. Ky fought through life to survive but not until he met Urd Geales, did he find a first thing to live for. Nevertheless, he is living for someone but not living for himself. What do I mean?

Usually, the story tends to portray how characters want to be recognized, how they want to be seen to someone else's eyes along how people start gathering around them. But the other side of the coin is, what is exactly to live? What does living exactly mean?

It's not just about living for someone but actually finding a reason for your own. It is a delicate thread between selfishness along personal love, it's hell after all. It's finding in a desolate land a reason as to why one's self is existing and living. Even during hell, or during the trial called life, people find meaning, they find things to do, to enjoy, to aspire for, to spend time with, to cry for, to lament for, but to grow for as well.

Ky Luc's human clock stopped, the reason he lost was because he always believed that vampires would be the strongest of their kind, never considering what divided humans and vampires. What exactly made humans be special yet frightening, but rather, he thought as long as he fought, as long as he made himself stronger, he wouldn't lose. But it was a different day there...Ky Luc had a past stained with blood and I'm not going to say he's a justificable character, but rather fascinating, how despite the mind along the ideals can set someone to see light, for others such light only reflects darkness.

As for the final point. The squad's role

For sure, the way they got their power up was not exactly the best developed point but given that the story had to move on, that's what we got. Shinoa being able to access to the First Progenitor's powers is what allowed her to give her team a chance to fight given that the protagonist is broken in terms of power as well, so there must exist a balance in power scale.

But, what is there to need to be discussed with the squad?

Their union.

One of the things that's been visible is that once Yuu left, the squad had a turnoil of emotions, distress, sadness, along feelings akin to feeling lost.

Like lambs who were waiting for the lead to guide them, but given that someone stood there, a new beacon began to shine. But instead of following Yuu and Guren; they began to follow a beacon to a new path. One on which they could dictaminate what they wanted to do with their lives.

Kimizuki, Yoichi and specially Mitsuba, have displayed growth despite few chapters passing by; they do treasure the family they have, they love Yuu but they are living in the present. They are not tied to what happened millenia ago, they want a better world, a world that lets humanity prosper and end the eternal hell they've been subjected to endure but among this, the real creation of bonds has been visible. The squad supporting each other, working together along ensuring each other is alright is one of the most precious things that can be witnessed.

As a side note

I usually complained about Mitsuba's poor development...but right now, her worrying about Shinoa, showing what it is to be a caring friend, what it means to give support for someone you hold dear. It means there is progress instead of blindy following. I hope we get to see interactions between Mitsuba and Ky Luc with time along constant development with the members of the squad.

What do you think about this? Let me know.

It's alright if you don't like it, just remember, respecting each other is what leads to good conversations.

[donttxtathebeach]

Forever & a Day| chapter 15 : before the sun

word count 11.4k (grammerly premium has become my favorte thing because when im in the zone i fear grammer is the leastr of my worries.

warnings: angst a lot of it. jelosuy( mostly insecurity and fear of loosing someone)

summary

a journey of childhood friends, fame, love, and rediscovery. when both of their worlds colliding once more, Y/N and Drew learn to navigate the delicate space between their shared past and their very different presents. Will their love withstand the pressures of fame, distance, and time? Or will they find that some things are better left in the past? Follow along as Y/N and Drew embark on a journey of growth, understanding, and the complexities of love.

previous|next

masterlist

Y/N sits by her window, the faint hum of New York City filtering through the night. The skyline stretches endlessly in front of her, a vast sea of lights and life, yet she feels strangely disconnected. She stares at the towering buildings, their windows glowing like small beacons in the dark, yet none feels like they belong to her. The city is alive, always moving, constantly pulsing with energy, but she feels like an outsider looking in for the first time in years. Her once-familiar place in the center seems far away, like a dream she can’t quite remember.

The wind brushes against her skin, calm and almost indifferent, as it slips through the cracks of the window, ruffling her hair. It’s the only thing that feels real—like it’s moving, too, not stuck in time the way she feels. She doesn’t know when she started to feel this way when the excitement of it all—the lights, chaos, and constant motion—began to lose its pull. But tonight, it’s like everything presses down on her all at once. The success, the recognition, the glamorous life—none of it means anything when she feels so empty inside.

She’s used to being in the center of everything. From a young age, she’s been the one people gravitate toward—the supermodel who’s graced countless runways, starred in high-fashion campaigns, and built a name synonymous with grace and poise. It’s been years of flashing cameras, magazine covers, and standing ovations, each cementing her place in the world.

People call her lucky, blessed even, and on the outside, she is. She has everything they think she could want—a career that most women would envy, fan adoration, and a life that seems to glitter with opportunity. Yet, as she sits here in her luxury apartment, with the vast cityscape stretching out in front of her, Y/N can’t shake the feeling that she’s become a stranger to herself. The person everyone sees—the confident, collected woman on the red carpet—feels like a façade now, something she’s been playing for too long. Inside, she feels lost, untethered from the very thing she’s built her life around.

The last few months have been more complex than she’s willing to admit. The distance between her and Drew has been growing, and as much as she’s tried to ignore it, she can’t anymore. Drew. She lets out a long, slow breath, her gaze unfocused as she watches the lights blink in the distance. He’s been away filming Hellraiser in Serbia for weeks now, and even though she’s been busy traveling for shoots and campaigns herself, the absence of his presence in her life has been undeniable.

But that’s not the worst of it.

What’s been gnawing at her, keeping her up at night, is how much closer Drew seems to get to Odessa Akzion, his co-star. It’s subtle how he talks about her—how her name slips from his lips with that same warmth he used to reserve for Y/N. His voice softens when he talks about their scenes together, how much they’re “getting along,” and how “easy it is to work with her.” Y/N hears the difference in his tone and feels the weight of his words settle into her chest like a stone. It’s nothing overt, nothing she could point to and say; this is the moment I knew something had changed, but it's there, lingering in the space between them. And it eats at her.

She doesn’t want to acknowledge the ache in her chest or admit it even to herself. She’s never been the type to get caught up in jealousy. After all, she’s built a life where she controls everything. She's learned to compartmentalize her emotions, to keep her personal life private, and her professional life soaring. But with Drew, it’s different.

He’s not just her boyfriend—he’s the one person who’s always made her feel like she could breathe easily. He’s the one person who has always seen her—seen her—beyond the glossy images and the designer clothes. When they’re together, she doesn’t have to be the woman the world expects her to be. She can just be Y/N.

But lately, Y/N can feel that sense of calm slipping away with how he's been talking about Odessa. The air between them has thickened, becoming suffocating. The conversations they used to have—light and easy, filled with shared jokes and the comfort of knowing each other’s thoughts before they were even spoken—are now strained. She can feel the distance, like an invisible thread slowly pulling them apart, no matter how much she tries to ignore it.

And that’s the part that hurts the most—the helplessness. The feeling that no matter how hard she tries to hold on, the more she pulls, the more she feels them slipping through her fingers.

Her phone buzzes on the table, the screen lighting up with Drew’s name. A wave of emotion rushes over her—guilt, longing, uncertainty—and she considers not answering for a moment. It would be easier. She’s been avoiding his calls for a few days now, and every time the phone rang, the weight of the conversation loomed. Deep down, she knew that talking to him now would only make the distance between them more real. But she can’t avoid him forever. She doesn’t want to.

Not because she doesn’t love him—she does, more than she’s ever loved anyone—but because every time they talk, it feels like the distance grows a little more. Every word and pause feels like it’s amplifying the gap between them, and she doesn’t know how to fix it.

Taking a deep breath, she picks up the phone and swipes to answer. Her heart is racing in her chest, her palms slightly clammy as she grips the device. She glances out the window one last time; the city lights no longer offer the comfort they once did. It’s a fleeting thought she quickly pushes aside as she forces herself to focus.

“Hey,” she says, her voice steady, the words slipping out with practiced ease, as though everything is perfectly normal. As though nothing has changed. Her heart is pounding, but her voice betrays none of it. She’s learned to keep calm and sound composed even when she feels anything but.

“Hey, babe,” Drew’s voice greets her, warm and familiar, but there’s an undertone to it now—a hint of something Y/N can’t quite place, a subtle tension that wasn’t there before. It’s the same but different, like a familiar melody played in a new key. “How are you?”

The question is simple, but Y/N can hear the concern beneath it, the way he’s searching for something—perhaps a sign that she’s still the same and okay. She wants to tell him she’s okay and that everything’s fine, but the truth is, she doesn’t know what “fine” even means anymore. She feels like a part of her is slipping away, like the person she used to be—the confident woman who never doubted herself—has been replaced by something fragile, something uncertain.

“I’m fine,” she replies, trying to keep things light, her voice lacking the warmth it used to carry when they spoke. She forces a smile, even though he can’t see it. She knows it’s not entirely true, but it’s what she’s always said. “Busy, you know? New York doesn’t slow down.” She lets out a small laugh, trying to mask the strain in her voice, but it’s barely there. It doesn’t feel right. The words feel hollow, empty in her mouth.

She wants to say more, to explain that it’s not the city that’s getting to her, that it’s not just the workload that’s draining her, but the weight of their relationship—the quiet distance that’s become unbearable. But she doesn’t. Instead, she pivots, asking the question plaguing her thoughts. “How’s Serbia?” she asks, her tone casual, though she’s bracing herself for the answer.

Drew’s response is slow as if he’s weighing his words carefully. “It’s… fine,” he says, his voice quieter now and more reflective. “It’s been intense. We’re in the final stretch of filming, and things are moving fast. Odessa and I… we’ve been working a lot together. It’s been great, though.”

The mention of Odessa comes out with that soft edge, and despite herself, Y/N feels a sharp sting in her chest. She can almost hear the shift in his voice, how it softens when he says her name, how the words linger in a way they never used to when he talked about other people. It’s so subtle that Y/N wonders if he even realizes it himself. Y/N forces herself to smile, but the familiar ache begins to surface inside. Drew and Odessa have spent so much time together lately. He talks about her often, almost as if it’s natural. Y/N can hear the difference in his tone when he mentions her—excitement there, an energy she hasn’t heard when he talks about their time together. The way he speaks of her—bright, almost reverent—hits her like a cold wave.

She swallows hard, trying to keep her voice steady, even as her insides tighten. The smile she’s been forcing falters, and she quickly brushes away the thought of it, focusing instead on the conversation. “Sounds great,” she says, her words coming out softer than she intended, almost whispering. But it’s the only thing she can manage right now.

The distance between them—so vast, so palpable—feels like it’s closing in, wrapping itself around her chest, suffocating her. She wants to say more but doesn’t know what to say. The words that feel true are the ones she’s been avoiding: that things aren’t acceptable, that the connection she once had with him feels fractured, splintered beyond repair. But she can’t say that—not yet.

And so, she holds her breath, letting the silence fill the spaces between them.

Y/N tries to focus on the soft hum of the conversation, but her mind keeps drifting back to that one name: Odessa. What is it about her that has Drew so captivated? She can’t help but imagine their late-night rehearsals, the way their chemistry on-screen might translate into something off-screen. Y/N can’t deny it—there’s a pang of jealousy she hasn’t allowed herself to feel before. She’s always been secure in their relationship and confident in their bond, but something about Drew’s recent words makes her uncertain.

Her gaze drops to her hands, and for a long moment, she stares at how her fingers rest against her phone. The delicate, polished nails that have graced countless magazine covers feel foreign now—just another piece of the person she used to be. She used to feel so confident in her skin and powerful when she held a camera’s gaze, but tonight, all that feels like an illusion. Her fingers tremble slightly, betraying the calmness she’s trying to project. She inhales deeply, the air heavy in her chest, trying to gather the words she knows she has to say.

She feels the weight of them—each one pressing down on her chest, forming an invisible knot in her throat. She has to ask. She has to know if things are changing if Drew's heart has already shifted, or if she's just being irrational. It’s hard to pinpoint when it all started to feel different, but it has. The subtle distance between them, the late nights, and the whispered conversations about Odessa all add up, and she can’t ignore it any longer.

She’s always been poised, a woman who could command a room with grace, her composure never faltering, no matter the storm brewing inside her. But that calm seems to be slipping through her fingers like sand in a windstorm tonight. This is different. Her usual defense mechanisms—the practiced smiles, the perfect silences, the feigned indifference—aren’t working this time. The vulnerability she’s spent so long hiding is flooding her, threatening to spill over.

For the first time in a long while, Y/N feels like she’s losing control. And in this moment, she knows there’s no avoiding what’s been festering between them—no more pretending that everything is fine. The quiet doubts, the late-night questioning, the subtle shift in Drew’s attention—it’s all here now, plain and painful. She’s done keeping her fears locked away. She’s done pretending that the space between them doesn’t exist, that she’s not drowning in the silence where words used to fill their days.

Tonight, her heart speaks louder than her polished exterior. She opens her mouth, but the words catch, tangled with the weight of everything unsaid.

“Drew, I don’t mean to sound jealous,” she starts, her voice steady but her heart pounding. The words feel too raw as if they’re carving their way out of her, unfiltered. “I’m just… I can’t help but feel like suddenly I’m not a constant in your life anymore. Like I’ve been replaced by something or someone else.”

She swallows hard, the tightness in her throat making it difficult to keep her voice from cracking. Her chest aches with the weight of her unspoken fears—the insecurities she’s never had to face before, at least not with him. It’s Odessa; she knows that much. How Drew’s spoken of her recently—so casually, so quickly—has planted a seed of doubt in her heart. It’s the way his eyes light up when he talks about her, the genuine excitement in his voice, the subtle shifts in his attention when her name comes up. Y/N isn’t stupid. She can feel it. And the uncertainty that’s been creeping in for weeks now threatens to suffocate her.

“And if that’s what’s happening…” She takes a deep breath, her words coming slower now, like each one is a small confession she’s afraid to make. “Please, let it end before I break my heart fighting for someone who let me go a while ago.”

Her voice wavers as she finishes the sentence, the full weight of her vulnerability sinking in. This is the hardest thing she’s ever had to say. Every syllable feels like it’s being ripped from her chest, each word heavier than the last. But a part of her knows this is the only way to get through to him, the only way to find some clarity.

The silence stretches out, long and suffocating. Drew doesn’t respond immediately, and Y/N feels the weight of that silence settle over her like a blanket she can’t shake off. Her heart races as she waits for him to speak, her mind spinning with every possible outcome. Has she said too much? Will he tell her that he feels the same, that they’re just in a rough patch, or will he admit that maybe, just maybe, things have already started to slip away?

Her grip on the phone tightens as the silence continues, each passing second dragging her deeper into her doubts. This moment feels like a tipping point, where everything will either fall apart or be pulled back together.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she says suddenly, her voice quieter now but full of a rawness she can’t hide. She can almost hear him on the other end of the line—can picture him running his hands through his hair, his face furrowed with confusion, maybe even pain. She can hear the unspoken questions in the silence that’s stretching between them. She doesn’t want to listen to them. She doesn’t want to see that look in his eyes—the look that’s torn between love and uncertainty.

“I don’t want to see that look on your face like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” she continues, her words cutting through the tension that’s thickening with every passing second. “I need to know if this is real, Drew. Suppose you’re still in this, or if it’s time to stop pretending we are.”  

Her heart is in her throat now, the fear of losing him bubbling up in a way she hasn’t allowed herself to feel before. She needs answers. She needs him to stop dancing around the truth and stop hiding behind empty promises and vague reassurances. She needs to know if he still sees her the way he used to—if he still sees her as the woman he’s fighting for, the woman who has stood by him, even when the world’s been pulling them in different directions.  

The call is still. And Y/N can feel the heaviness of Drew’s silence as if the weight of the world is on him. She wants to pull him back to her, to tell him that she’s here, that she’ll always be here if he needs her. But something inside her tells her that if they don’t face the truth now, they never will.

“Baby…” Drew’s voice cracks, and the sound rips through her. The weight of it is like a blow to her chest, sharp and accurate. She feels it deep in her bones, as if every ounce of his vulnerability is seeping through the line. Her throat tightens, and she closes her eyes, trying to fight back the tears that are threatening to spill.

“Drew, I…” She swallows hard, but the words he says next make it clear that the battle is already lost. His voice is soft strained, like he’s been holding something in for far too long. “I think right now maybe we need to just… shit, I don’t know.”

Y/N feels her heartache in a way she’s never known before. She’s always prided herself on keeping her composure, always keeping it together, even in the most overwhelming moments. But this… this is different. The raw pain in his voice makes her feel more fragile than she ever thought possible.

She wants to reach through the phone and wrap herself around him. She wants to tell him everything will be okay and that they’ll figure this out, but the truth is, she doesn’t know if they will. There’s so much between them now. There is so much unspoken, so much that’s shifted under the surface, and she can feel it all pressing against her chest.

“I think maybe it’s best if we decide to give each other that space,” she says quietly, her voice softer now but steady—calm on the outside, even though inside, she feels like she’s breaking apart. “Our lives are pulling us in different directions right now, and I get it, Drew. I really do.”

Her hands clench around the phone, the cool glass grounding her in the moment, reminding her that she has to stay strong. She takes a steadying breath and continues, “My career’s at its peak right now. I don’t know how much I can give you or how much I have left to offer in the way you need me to.” The words taste bitter as they leave her lips. She hates them. He hates the idea that she’s admitting the truth—that she can’t be there for him in the way she wants, in the way he deserves.

“And you…” She pauses, feeling a pang deep in her chest. “You’re finally getting that big break you’ve wanted, Drew. The one you’ve been working for. I can see it in your eyes. You’re finally getting what you’ve dreamed of, and I… I don’t want to be the one who holds you back or drags you along, pretending like I can keep up.” Her voice falters slightly, but she pushes through it. “I can’t keep pretending, Drew.”

The words hang in the air between them, heavy and final, and Y/N isn’t sure if they’re the right ones. They taste like surrender, like giving up, but at the same time, they feel like a release. She’s been holding on for so long, but she can feel herself slipping. And though her heartaches, there’s a small part of her that knows—deep down—that this is what they both need. Space to grow, space to breathe.

But even as she says it, a part of her wonders if she’s making the biggest mistake of her life. Can they really go on from here? Can they really be okay? The uncertainty gnaws at her, but she can’t keep pretending that things haven’t changed.

There’s a long silence on the other end, and Drew doesn’t speak at first. Y/N’s breath catches in her throat. She holds it, waiting. She wants to know if he’ll say something—anything—but when he finally does speak, it’s a whisper. Soft, almost pleading.

“Please… don’t finish that sentence,” he says, his voice shaking with emotion. “I don’t want to let you go.”

Her heart stutters at his words, a jolt of pain making her stomach twist. She can hear the desperation in his voice, and it’s almost more than she can bear. She wants to tell him that she feels the same, that she doesn’t want to let him go either, that she loves him, and that the thought of losing him scares her more than anything else in the world. But as much as she wants to say it, she knows deep down that they’re not the same people they were when they first met. Things have changed.

The space between them has grown too broad and is no longer just physical. It’s emotional, deeper, and more difficult to bridge. And that scares her because even as she loves him and her heart screams to stay, she knows they both need time. It's time to figure out who they are when they’re apart, time to see if they can come back to each other or if they’ve already grown too far apart.

“This isn’t goodbye, Drew,” she says, her voice quieter now, steady, but with an undercurrent of sorrow that she can’t hide. She’s not sure if it’s more for him or for herself. “It’s just… simply… see you later.”

Her voice trembles as she speaks, and she hates how fragile it sounds. She's always been the one to hold everything together, to glide through the chaos with poise and grace, never letting anyone see the cracks beneath the surface. But right now, as she stands on the edge of this conversation, everything feels like it's unraveling. The weight of it—the pain, the loss, the distance that’s grown between them—presses down on her chest, making it harder to breathe.

She can’t escape the feeling that they’re both on completely different paths now. Drew's been sprinting ahead, leaving her in the dust, moving so fast she can barely keep track of him. And her? She feels like she’s been walking in circles, stuck in a place that she can't escape, no matter how hard she tries. It’s like she’s been running laps around the memories of them, watching everything pass her by while he’s already miles ahead, his life already moving on without her.

She’s trying to catch up, to close the distance, but every step she takes feels slower than the last. And somewhere, in the quiet of her mind, she wonders if maybe this is how things were always meant to be—if perhaps she was always going to be the one who stayed behind, watching him move forward. The thought breaks her heart, but she can’t ignore it.

"You’re racing ahead while I’m still walking these laps,Everything passes me by, one step at a time.You’ve been moving on so fast,And I’m just trying to catch my breath, trying to find my way."

Her hands tremble slightly, betraying the calm she’s desperately trying to maintain. She presses the phone tighter against her ear, but the silence that hangs between them feels deafening. She can hear the shallow sound of his breath on the other side, and it makes her heart ache even more. His pain is so palpable it’s almost suffocating. She knows he’s hurting, too—that much is evident from the tightness in his voice when he speaks.

“I don’t want to lose you, Y/N,” Drew’s voice cracks, the words coming out low and raw, as if he’s barely holding it together. “I don’t want to lose us.”

And at that moment, she felt everything. The weight of the years they've spent together, the memories that fill every corner of her mind, all the love that has held them together despite the cracks forming between them. She feels it all—the longing, the ache, the desire to fix everything and make it right. But she knows, deep down, that this is the only way they can move forward. She can’t keep pretending that everything is fine. It’s not okay. They’re not OK.

Her chest tightens as she swallows the lump in her throat, forcing her voice to stay steady even though it feels like her entire world is falling apart. “Don’t hear what I’m not saying, Drew,” she whispers, her words deliberate, each one heavy with meaning. “I don’t want to lose you either. But we can’t keep living in this moment, pretending like we’re the same people we used to be. We need space. We need time to figure out who we are without each other. I can’t be the person you want me to be, and you can’t be who I need you to be, not right now.”

The silence stretches between them again, thick and suffocating. She can feel the distance widening, like an invisible gulf that neither of them knows how to cross. She wonders if they ever will.

“I’ll always love you, Y/N,” Drew’s voice breaks through the stillness, so quiet now that it’s almost a whisper. “Always. You’ll always be a part of me.”

The words hit her like a wave, crashing over her and leaving her gasping for air. She feels everything—the love, the heartbreak, the finality of it all—and for a moment, she almost caves. She wants to tell him she’s sorry, to beg him to stay, to find a way to make it work. But deep down, she knows they’re too far gone. There’s no more running back to the way things were. They’ve already crossed that line, and all they can do now is move forward separately.

“I know,” she replies softly, the words barely above a whisper, but they carry all the weight of everything unsaid between them. Blinking back the tears, she’s not sure she can hold back much longer. “And I’ll always love you, too. But for now, we need this. We need time. Maybe when the time is right, we’ll find our way back to each other. But right now… we need to grow apart. Just for a while.”

Her voice falters, but she doesn’t stop. She can’t stop now. This is the hardest thing she’s ever had to do, but it’s the right thing for both of them. They can’t keep pretending that everything’s fine when it’s not. They need to figure out who they are and who they can be—whether that’s together or apart.

The line goes quiet, and she can feel the finality of it settling over them. She can almost hear the weight of his heartbreak, just as hers is. And in that silence, she wonders if they’ll ever find their way back to each other. But for now, there’s nothing more to say. She’s done running the race, done trying to catch up to him. She’s going to let the flowers grow for a while, give herself the space to breathe, to heal.

She takes a deep breath, wiping away the tears that have started to fall. She’s not sure what comes next. She’s not sure if they’ll ever be the same. But one thing is clear—this isn’t the end. It’s just the beginning of something new. Something they both need.

She turns off the phone, standing up to face the city that never sleeps.

Maybe, just maybe, when the time’s right, they’ll cross paths again. But not tonight. Tonight, they need to stop running.

Y/N’s steps are heavy as she enters Hailey’s apartment, the familiar soft click of the door echoing in the stillness. The moment she crosses the threshold, it feels as though the weight of the world has followed her inside. The space, usually a warm refuge from the chaos of her life, feels foreign today. The usual comfort of Hailey’s apartment—the soft, muted colors, the gentle lighting, the scent of lavender and vanilla that always seems to calm her racing thoughts—doesn’t have the same soothing effect. Instead, everything seems distant and colder. The walls feel like they’re closing in around her, and she wonders if she’ll ever feel at home here again.

Her heart is a storm of emotions, a turbulent swirl of confusion, guilt, sadness, and exhaustion. The ache in her chest is like an open wound, raw and painful, and it seems to expand with every passing moment. She feels every single step as if it’s an effort to move through quicksand, each one pulling her deeper into the heaviness of what she’s just left behind. The thought of Drew—of everything they were—echoes in her mind, the image of his face, the sound of his voice, the feeling of his touch, now all tainted by the space between them. No matter how hard she tries to silence it, the grief bubbles up, pressing against her chest.

Hailey’s apartment has always been a sanctuary—a place Y/N has always sought solace in, a reprieve from the whirlwind of her own life. It’s the one place where she can let down her guard, where she can be herself without the need for the carefully constructed façade she wears every day. But today, it’s not the comforting embrace she’s used to. It feels like a distant memory, something she once knew but now finds herself disconnected from. She barely registers the sleek modern furniture in the living room, the polished glass coffee table, and the carefully curated bookshelves filled with novels and art books that always seem to reflect Hailey’s taste and attention to detail. The oversized couch, with its perfectly arranged throw pillows, usually makes her feel at home—but now, it’s all a blur, fading into the background. Everything is out of focus, just like her thoughts. She can’t even focus on the things that once brought her comfort because they all feel so far removed from the chaos swirling inside her.

She knows that she’s not just leaving Drew behind. As she steps further into the apartment, a wave of realization crashes over her: in many ways, she feels like she’s losing herself, too. She’s not the woman she was a few months ago, the woman who felt in control of her life. Now, she feels adrift, caught between two worlds, unsure of which one she even belongs to anymore.

Hailey is sitting on the couch, her legs tucked underneath her and a half-empty cup of coffee in front of her. Her focus is on her phone, her fingers scrolling absentmindedly through whatever has caught her attention. But the moment the door creaks open, she looks up. Her eyes immediately fall on Y/N, and the lighthearted expression that had been on her face falters the second she sees the expression on Y/N’s. Her smile slips away, replaced by a look of concern that runs deep, the kind only a true friend can offer.

Hailey’s eyes soften in an instant, and a motherly concern rises in her as she stands up quickly, her movements fluid but careful, like she doesn’t want to overwhelm Y/N with her presence but knows she has to do something. She crosses the room in two long strides, her feet silent on the hardwood floor. “Y/N…” she says, her voice dropping a few tones, the softness and warmth in her words doing nothing to ease the tight knot that has formed in Y/N’s chest. It’s the way she says her name—so gentle, so full of understanding—that makes Y/N’s heart ache even more.

Without another word, Hailey steps closer, her brow furrowing with worry as she takes in Y/N’s tear-streaked face, her shoulders trembling ever so slightly. Y/N can feel the weight of her concern, but all it does is make the lump in her throat grow even more significant. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Y/N doesn’t answer right away. She stands frozen for a beat, her chest tight, every part of her unwilling to let the words spill out. It’s like there’s a wall inside her, something preventing her from sharing what’s weighing so heavily on her heart. She’s not sure if she’s trying to hold herself together or if she just can’t bring herself to say it aloud. The silence stretches on, thick and suffocating, until finally, it’s the tears that speak for her. They begin to fall slowly, as if hesitant at first, but then they come in a rush, pouring down her cheeks in a silent flood. The sobs wracked her body, shaking her to the core as everything she’d been holding back came pouring out.

She can’t control it. She doesn’t want to prevent it. She feels like she’s drowning in her own emotions, and for the first time in a long while, she’s allowing herself to feel it all—the regret, the fear, the heartache. The dam she’s built up over the past few hours has cracked, and there’s no stopping it now.

Hailey doesn’t hesitate. She moves quickly, and there is a sense of urgency in her steps. Gently but firmly, she guides Y/N to the couch, urging her to sit, her hands steady on Y/N’s shoulders. Hailey doesn’t say a word at first; she simply sits beside her and places her arm around Y/N’s shoulders, pulling her into the kind of embrace that only a true friend can offer. It’s the kind of embrace that says everything without needing to speak. Y/N leans into it, feeling the familiar warmth of Hailey’s presence, but even as she closes her eyes and lets herself melt into the comfort, it doesn’t soothe the ache in her chest. Nothing can.

After a long, uncomfortable silence, where only the faint sounds of the city outside seem to echo in the background, Y/N finally speaks. Her voice is trembling as she chokes on her words, each one slipping out like a painful confession. “Hailey… I ended things with Drew.” The words are hard to form like they’re stuck in her throat, and as they spill out, their weight crashes over her. She swipes at her eyes, but the tears keep coming, uncontrollable now. “I… I didn’t want to, but I had to. I just… I don’t know what to do now. I feel so lost.”

Hailey’s face shifts from concern to empathy, her expression softening even further as she hears the pain in Y/N’s voice. She squeezes Y/N’s shoulder gently, a silent reassurance. “Oh, babe,” she says softly, her voice full of tenderness. “I’m so sorry. You two… you always seemed so happy together. What happened? I thought you were in such a good place.”

Y/N wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, her fingers trembling, but it doesn’t help. She’s still broken, still fractured by the decision she’s made, by the reality of the situation. She takes a shaky breath, trying to find the words to explain everything—the confusion, the feelings that have been building inside her, the slow unraveling of everything she thought was solid. “I’m not mad at Odessa, not in the slightest. She’s really a sweet person. But… I just feel like I’m losing everything, Hailey. Like I’m the one standing in the way of his future, and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to make it right. I never meant to come off jealous, never wanted to feel like I was competing. It’s just… it’s the little things, you know? The moments I used to share with him—those little wins he’d tell me about, the way he’d get so excited to share his life with me. Now, it’s all so distant. I’m here, chasing my own dreams, and he’s out there chasing his, and I’m not part of that anymore.”

Y/N pauses, struggling to steady her breath. The words are all jumbled now, tangled together like a knot in her chest. She rubs her temples, her fingers pressing against the pressure building behind her eyes. “I just wish I could be there for him more. But now I feel so selfish because I feel like I’m choosing my career over the love of my life. I feel like I’m abandoning him like I’m walking away from the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Hailey listens carefully, her heart aching as she watches Y/N struggle with the conflict inside her. She’s known Y/N for years—through the highs and the lows, through the times when everything seemed perfect, and the times when it all fell apart. She knows her friend knows how hard this decision must have been for her. “I know it feels that way,” Hailey says quietly, her voice soft but steady. Her hand gently squeezes Y/N’s, a reassurance that she’s not alone. “But you’re not selfish for wanting to build your own future. I can’t even imagine how hard it must have been to make that decision. But it sounds like you knew, deep down, that it wasn’t working., not because of anything you did but because the two of you are just on different paths right now. It’s not the end of the world, though. You’re not choosing between your career and love. You’re trying to give yourself space to grow, too.”

Y/N’s chest tightens as she listens, but the uncertainty still gnaws at her. She rubs at her eyes, wiping away the tears that haven’t stopped flowing. “I don’t feel like I’m growing, Hailey. I just feel… empty, like this huge part of me is missing. He was my best friend, Hailey. My person. And now… now it feels like I’m just… nothing. Like I’m floating.”

Hailey pulls Y/N into a hug, wrapping her arms around her tightly, her own eyes brimming with unshed tears as she watches her friend break down. “You’re not nothing, Y/N. You’re so much more than a relationship; you know that. You’re strong, and you’ve built an incredible life for yourself. It doesn’t make this pain go away, but it doesn’t mean you’re alone, either. Drew loves you; I know he does. But sometimes love is about letting go, giving the other person the space they need to grow, even if it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done.”

Y/N’s head drops onto Hailey’s shoulder, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know if I can live with this decision. I don’t know if I can ever be okay with it.”

Hailey exhales slowly, her fingers brushing through Y/N’s hair as she speaks. “Babe, you don’t have to have it all figured out right now. It’s okay to feel broken. It’s okay to not know how to move forward. But I promise you, you’ll get through this. You’re so much stronger than you realize. Don’t rush yourself to heal. It’ll take time, and that’s okay. Just take it one day at a time.”

Y/N nods, her face still wet with tears as she wipes them away. She looks at Hailey, her eyes filled with vulnerability. “I just… I just don’t want him to forget about me. I don’t want to lose him completely.”

Hailey holds her gaze firmly, her expression reassuring. “You won’t lose him, Y/N. Not if it’s meant to be. You have to trust that. Love, like what you had with him, doesn’t just disappear. If it’s real, it will come back. It might take time, but you won’t lose him forever.”

Y/N manages a small smile; the ache is still present but somehow a little more bearable. “I hope so,” she murmurs, a quiet optimism flickering in her heart.

Hailey gives her a playful nudge, trying to lighten the mood. “Alright, enough of the sad stuff. Go take a long, hot shower, and I’ll come by tomorrow with your favorite takeout and wine. You deserve a night where you don’t think about anything except relaxing.”

Y/N lets out a small laugh; the sound is soft and fragile, but it’s there. “That sounds perfect. Thank you, Hailey. I really needed this.”

Hailey smiles warmly, squeezing her hand. “I know, girl. I know. I’ve got you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Y/N enters her apartment with a deep sigh, her tired eyes scanning the empty space that once felt like a sanctuary but now feels like a cold, hollow shell. The weight of the day presses down on her, and she feels the exhaustion seep into her bones. She doesn’t have the energy to even turn on the lights, so she simply makes her way through the darkened apartment, relying on the soft glow from the streetlights outside.

The city hums around her—distant voices, the occasional honk of a horn—but inside, it’s like the world has gone quiet. All that remains is the soft rustle of her footsteps against the wooden floor and the quiet thrum of her heartbeat. The emptiness is palpable, and Drew's absence is more noticeable now that she’s returned home alone. She didn’t think the space would feel so vast without him, but it does. It’s like all the life she once felt in the apartment has been drained out.

She moves to the kitchen, mindlessly pulling out a bottle of wine, the red liquid swirling in the glass as she stares at it. It’s been a long, emotional day. A hard day. A day that felt like it stretched on forever, filled with painful realizations, tears, and the weight of decisions that had been building up for months. But no matter how much time passes, nothing seems to make it easier. She still feels that same ache, the one that sits heavy in her chest, and she doesn’t know how to shake it.

Her phone buzzes, pulling her from her thoughts. She almost ignores it, but then she sees the name on the screen. Sofia Richie.

Y/N’s heart skips a beat. Sofia. Her best friend. The one person she always turns to in moments of doubt. She hesitates for a second, wondering if she’s ready to talk about everything, but then she answers, knowing that Sofia deserves to hear from her.

"Hey, Sof," Y/N says, her voice quiet, almost timid.

"Y/N," Sofia’s voice comes through, filled with warmth, but there’s an undercurrent of something else—something Y/N can’t quite place, but it’s there. It makes her stomach twist because she knows that tone too well. "So, umm, as your best friend, I’m a little hurt that you didn’t come to me first. You could’ve called me, you know. I would’ve been there for you. I always am."

Y/N freezes for a moment. Her chest tightens as the words settle in. Hurt. Sofia’s hurt. The realization hits harder than she expected. She never wanted to hurt Sofia, never wanted to make her feel left out, but the truth is… she did. And now, it stings.

“I… I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me right now,” Y/N says, her voice cracking slightly. “I thought you had enough on your plate with planning the wedding and everything. I didn’t want to burden you, Sof. I didn’t want to make you deal with my mess when you’ve got so much going on.”

Sofia’s silence is heavy, and for a moment, Y/N can’t tell what she’s thinking. The quiet stretches on, thick with unspoken words. Finally, Sofia responds, her voice softer now but still carrying a layer of sadness.

“Y/N… you’re my best friend. My sister. And that means that your mess is my mess, you know that? I know I’ve been busy with the wedding and all that, but nothing could ever make me too busy to be there for you. Not with something as big as this. I just… I feel like I should’ve been the first person you reached out to, not Hailey. I’m here, babe. I always am. And I want to be there for you when things are hard.”

Y/N’s heart aches as she hears the disappointment in Sofia’s words. Sofia’s always been the one who understood her without explanation, who knew when something was wrong even before she said it out loud. And here, she feels like she’s let her down. She never wanted Sofia to feel like she wasn’t enough like she didn’t matter in those moments when she needed to talk.

“I’m so sorry, Sof,” Y/N whispers, guilt washing over her. “I didn’t mean to shut you out. I just… I thought I could handle it. I thought I could figure everything out on my own. But now it feels like everything is falling apart, and I didn’t know how to ask for help.”

Sofia exhales deeply, a soft breath through the phone that tells Y/N she’s processing her words. “I get it, Y/N,” she says, her voice a little more composed now. “But you don’t have to do it alone. You know that, right? I don’t care how crazy my life gets; you’re always a priority for me. I want to help you through this, not just when things are easy but when things are messy. Especially when things are messy.”

Y/N’s hands tremble slightly as she holds the phone to her ear. She feels a lump in her throat that she doesn’t know how to swallow. Messy. That’s exactly how she feels. Messy, broken, unsure. She doesn’t even know where to begin to fix herself. But Sofia, as always, has a way of making her feel like she’s not beyond repair.

“I should’ve come to you first. I know that now,” Y/N admits, the words almost painful to say. “But I guess I didn’t want to feel like I was dragging you down with me. You’ve been so focused on your wedding, Sof, and I didn’t want to be that friend who always has problems.”

Sofia’s voice softens, and Y/N can almost imagine her shaking her head, even though she can’t see her. “Stop, Y/N. You’re not dragging me down. You never have been. You’re my best friend, and I want to be there for you, especially when you need me most. So please, don’t ever feel like you’re a burden.”

The words hit Y/N harder than she expected, and she took a slow breath, trying to steady herself. Sofia is the one person who’s always made her feel seen, understood, and accepted for exactly who she is. To hear that she still wants to be there for her, even after everything, means more than she can express in words.

“I just… I don’t know what to do now,” Y/N says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I ended things with Drew, Sof. And I don’t even know if it was the right choice. It feels like I’ve lost everything. Him. Us. And now I don’t know where I fit into my own life anymore.”

Sofia’s voice becomes more serious now, a steadying force that wraps around Y/N like a comforting hug. “I know it feels impossible right now. But you’re not lost, Y/N. You might feel like you are, but you’re not. You’re strong, and I’ve seen you handle so much in your life. This is just another chapter. It’s going to be tough, and you’re going to feel broken for a while. But eventually, you’ll find yourself again. You’ll find your way. And when you do, I’ll be here, just like I’ve always been.”

Y/N closes her eyes as Sofia’s words sink in, the weight of them settling in her chest. The ache is still there, raw and unrelenting, but Sofia’s voice, filled with love and reassurance, gives her something to hold onto. Maybe it’s okay to feel lost for a while. Perhaps it’s OK not to have all the answers.

“I’m really sorry, Sof,” Y/N says again, feeling the depth of her regret. “I should’ve been better about reaching out. I promise I won’t do that again. I’ll come to you, no matter what.”

Sofia’s voice lightens slightly, and Y/N can almost hear the smile in her words. “It’s okay, Y/N. You’re going through a lot, and I get that. But next time, don’t wait. I want to be your first call, not your last. And I’m always here for you. Always.”

Y/N lets out a shaky breath, feeling some of the tension in her body at ease. “Thank you, Sof. I really needed to hear that.”

“Anytime, babe,” Sofia replies, her tone soft but firm. “And when you’re ready, we’ll get through this together. But right now, just take care of yourself. You’ve got this.”

Y/N smiles faintly, the tears still threatening to spill, but somehow, at this moment, feeling a little less overwhelmed. “Thanks, Sof. I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/N. Don’t forget that.”

As the call ends, Y/N leans back on the couch, her phone resting in her hand. For the first time all day, she allows herself to close her eyes, letting the weight of everything she’s been holding onto drift slightly out of her mind.

The quiet hum of the city below is a stark contrast to the storm raging inside Drew. Standing at the window of his hotel in Serbia, he gazes out over the empty streets stretching into the unknown, his eyes unfocused. The world outside feels as distant and detached as the emotions swirling within him. The weight of his decision presses heavily on his chest, suffocating him in a way that the thick silence of his hotel room cannot. The bustling city below, with its lives and its movement, seems so far removed from the stillness of his heart.

His fingers grip his phone tightly as if it’s the only thing anchoring him to reality amidst the chaos of his emotions. He glances down at the bright screen in the dim room, the light casting an ethereal glow over his tired face. The decision he and Y/N made earlier feels like it happened a lifetime ago, yet it’s so raw, so fresh, still lingering like an open wound. The buzzing of his phone feels like an intrusive reminder of how much is out of his control right now.

Drew hesitates before pressing the call button. His finger hovers over the screen, unsure. The voice of his mom, the woman who’s known him his entire life, seems like the only source of comfort right now—someone who wouldn’t judge him, who wouldn’t make him feel like the weight of this breakup is all his fault, even though a small part of him believes that it is. After a long moment, he presses the button, and the phone rings in the quiet room.

The sound of the ringing fills the empty spaces of his mind, drowning out the constant swirl of guilt, regret, and sadness that has consumed him since the moment he said goodbye to Y/N. He waits, feeling time stretch out endlessly until, finally, her voice comes through on the other end of the line. It’s a familiar comfort, a warm hug through the phone.

“Hey, sweetheart. How’s it going? You okay?” His mom’s voice is warm and soothing, the kind that always seemed to bring him peace, even when the world felt like it was falling apart. It’s like a lifeline, pulling him back from the edge of his emotions.

Drew swallows hard, his throat tight. He rubs his forehead with the heel of his hand, trying to force back the overwhelming exhaustion of the day—the heaviness of it all. His mind feels like a jumbled mess of words, feelings, and regrets. The weight of everything—his career, the band, his relationship with Y/N—feels like a mountain pressing down on him. His breath comes out in uneven gasps, and he’s not sure if it’s from exhaustion or the surge of emotions crashing through him.

“Mom,” he starts, his voice hoarse and raw. “I… I ended things with Y/N.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, both a confession and a confession of defeat. Drew closes his eyes, trying to block out the flood of emotions that immediately rush in at the sound of them. His chest feels hollow like he’s already lost something too precious to get back.

There’s a long, telling pause on the other end of the line. Drew can almost hear his mom’s thoughts racing as she processes the gravity of his words. His heart beats so loudly in his chest he thinks it might drown out the sound of her response. Then, at last, her voice fills the silence—soft, gentle, but laced with concern.

“Oh, baby,” she says, and Drew can hear the pain in her voice, even though she’s trying to keep it steady. “I’m so sorry. I know how much she meant to you. What happened?”

Drew leans back against the cold hotel wall, the hard surface pressing into his spine like a reminder of how everything feels out of place. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and lets the exhaustion settle into his bones. He rubs his hands over his face, trying to calm himself. He needs to explain, but it’s hard to make sense of the storm inside him, let alone put it into words.

“It wasn’t anything she did, Mom. It was me.” His voice cracks slightly, and he can feel the tightness in his throat, the overwhelming sadness threatening to break through. “I got so caught up in everything—Hellraiser, the band, my career—and I know it hurt her. I could feel her pulling away. I know she felt me doing the same thing. We were just… drifting. We were so different. She wanted more, and I couldn’t give it to her. I tried, but I couldn’t keep pretending like everything was fine when I knew we were both losing each other.”

The words feel foreign, almost like someone else is speaking them for him, and yet they’re his, his painful reality. His voice catches on the last sentence, and he rubs his face again, unable to stop the flow of emotion. He clears his throat and takes a shaky breath. “I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t fix it.”

He pauses, lost in the memory of her face, of the way she looked at him when they made the decision. The love, the sadness, the understanding. It was too much, and yet not enough to keep them together.

“There’s something about the way she handled everything with so much grace,” Drew continues quietly, his voice filled with both admiration and deep regret. “She never once made me feel like I was doing something wrong. She… always put my best interests before her own. That’s why I love her, you know? I’ve never met anyone who loved me like she did. I feel like I failed her in every way possible.” His voice wavers, the guilt heavy in every word. “But she would never say that. She’s just not like that. She’d never make me feel like I was the problem.”

His mom’s sigh comes through softly on the other end of the phone, and Drew can almost picture her shaking her head, knowing exactly what he’s feeling but refusing to let him drown in it. Her voice is steady but filled with insight when she speaks again.

“Honey,” she says gently, her words warm and reassuring, like a balm to his soul. “I think she was really trying to put your best interests before her own. The way that girl loves you—it has so much depth. There’s a power to that love that most people can’t even comprehend. She’s someone who’s willing to let go if it means you can find your way, and that’s something rare. She’s not giving up on you, Drew. She’s giving you the space to be who you need to be.”

Drew’s eyes close, a heavy tear slipping down his cheek, and he lets the words settle into his chest. His mom’s words are comforting, but they don’t change the fact that he feels like he’s lost everything.

“And that’s a kind of love that not many people can truly understand. The magnitude and the extent of that love?” His mom continues, her voice unwavering. “It’s immeasurable.”

A bitter laugh escapes Drew’s lips, one that sounds hollow even to him. “I miss her so much, Mom. I miss everything about her—the way she looks at me like I’m the only person in the room, the way her laugh fills the spaces we’re in. I miss the way she’d always pushed me to be better, to be more than I thought I could be. I’ve messed everything up.”

His mom listens, patient and understanding. She doesn’t interrupt, allowing him to speak his truth freely. After a long pause, when Drew feels like he’s emptied himself of everything he could say, she finally responds, her voice calm but filled with wisdom.

“Sweetheart,” she begins, her tone firm but gentle. “Sometimes love isn’t enough to make two lives fit together. You and Y/N, you’re both strong, driven people. But you’re on different paths right now, and that’s okay. Sometimes, no matter how much you care for someone, your lives just don’t align in the way you want them to. And that’s not a reflection of the love you share; it’s just the reality of where you both are in life.”

Drew’s chest tightens at her words, the weight of them sinking in. The truth of it is undeniable, but it doesn’t make the pain any easier to bear. “It doesn’t feel okay, Mom. I don’t know how to live without her. I don’t know how to fix this. I feel like I’ve lost everything.”

His mom’s voice softens, her love flowing through the words. “Drew, you didn’t mess it up. You did what you thought was right. I know it’s painful, but sometimes love means letting go. It means giving the other person the space they need to grow, even if that means stepping away for a while. And if you really love her, you have to let her go. Trust that, when the time is right, you’ll find your way back to each other.”

The words are a balm to his soul, but a deep frustration still churns in his chest. “I don’t know if I can do that, though,” he admits quietly, the sadness creeping into his voice. “I just want to hold her again, tell her I’m sorry, and that I’ll fix everything. But I can’t do that from here. I can’t fix it if I’m not there with her.”

“I know, baby,” his mom says softly, a note of tenderness and understanding in her voice. “But the hardest thing is letting go. It’s giving the other person room to breathe. If it’s meant to be, you’ll find your way back. You don’t have to force it, Drew. You can’t force love.”

Her words hang in the air, both a release and a heavyweight, and Drew feels the tension in his body loosen just a little.

“I hope you’re right, Mom. I really do.” His voice is soft, but he clings to her words, even if they don’t entirely take away the ache.

“I am, sweetheart,” she replies firmly, her voice full of conviction. “But in the meantime, you have to take care of yourself too. You can’t pour from an empty cup. Don’t forget that.”

Drew exhales deeply, his body relaxing just slightly. “I’ll try, Mom. I really will. Thanks. I needed to hear that.”

“I’m always here for you, Drew,” she says, her voice full of unwavering love. “You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m just a phone call away, always.”

“I love you, Mom,” Drew says quietly, his heart aching, but his thoughts finally feel like they’re beginning to make sense.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Always,” she responds, her voice steady and sure.

As he hangs up, Drew leans back against the wall, the phone pressed to his chest, feeling the weight of the conversation lingers. His mind turns back to Y/N, and the empty space between them feels more vast than ever. And yet, in the midst of it all, there’s a tiny flicker of hope—because maybe, just maybe, love, in all its painful beauty, will find its way back to them.

After hanging up with his mom, Drew stares at the cold, blank wall in front of him, feeling the weight of his emotions grow heavier. The silence in his hotel room feels oppressive, almost suffocating, and no matter how much he tries to push it away, the pain of the breakup is there, lingering in every corner of the space. It’s a silence filled with the echo of the decision he made—a decision that, even now, feels too raw and too big for him to fully process.

His fingers trace the edge of his phone absentmindedly. Drew knows what he needs. He needs to talk. He needs someone who won’t judge him, someone who gets it. Someone who can offer a sense of clarity amidst the chaos in his head. Jonathan Davis. His Outer Banks costar. He is one of his closest friends and, at this moment, his voice of reason.

Jonathan is more than just a friend—he’s been Drew’s rock. The person who’s offered advice when things felt tangled, who listened without judgment when Drew’s world fell apart. And Drew knows, without a doubt, that if anyone can make him see this situation clearly, it’s Jonathan.

Drew taps the screen, scrolling until he finds Jonathan’s name. His thumb hovers over the call button for a moment, and a tight knot forms in his chest. What does he even say? How does he even begin to explain the mess his life has become in the last few days?

Finally, he hits the button. The phone rings, and Drew closes his eyes, willing himself to keep it together. Jonathan picks up after a few moments, his voice warm and steady.

“Yo, what’s up, man?” Jonathan greets, a slight hint of concern creeping into his voice. Drew knows that Jonathan can sense when something’s off, and right now, Drew feels like everything is off.

“Hey, Jon,” Drew replies, his voice sounding much smaller than he intended. He leans against the wall, pressing his palm to his forehead, trying to gather his thoughts. The words come out slow, deliberate as if he’s saying them for the first time. “Y/N and I broke up.”

There’s a long pause on the other end. Drew can feel Jonathan processing it, trying to absorb the magnitude of the words. Jonathan doesn’t rush to speak, which is precisely what Drew needs. He doesn’t need sympathy or pity. He just needs someone to listen.

“Shit,” Jonathan finally says, his tone shifting to something softer. “I’m sorry, bro. I really am. I know how much she meant to you. You two were… good, you know?”

“Yeah,” Drew murmurs. He sinks down onto the bed, running a hand over his face. “I thought we were. I thought I was doing the right thing, but... everything feels wrong now.” His voice cracks, and he lets the vulnerability show for the first time since the breakup. “I don’t know if I did the right thing, Jon. I can’t stop second-guessing myself.”

Jonathan’s voice is calm and steady. “Dude, it’s okay. It’s okay to feel like that. You made a tough call. Sometimes, doing what’s best for both people means stepping away. But it doesn’t make it any easier, right?”

Drew exhales slowly, the weight of his decision hitting him again. “Yeah, but it wasn’t her. It was me. I just… I got so caught up in everything else—Hellraiser, the band, all of it—and I could feel us drifting. I could feel her pulling away. And I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to fix it. And now... now I feel like I’ve lost her for good.”

Jonathan’s voice softens like a soothing balm on Drew’s raw, exposed emotions. “You haven’t lost her, man. Not if you’re both meant to be. I know everything’s falling apart, but trust me, you’re not alone in this. I’m here, you know that.”

Drew lets out a shaky laugh, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease just a little. “Yeah, I know you are, man. I’m glad I called you. But it’s hard, Jon. It’s like... I know what she needs, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. I miss her. I miss how she’d always look at me like I was the only person in the world. I miss her laugh. I miss everything. And now I feel like I ruined it all.”

Jonathan’s response is quiet but unwavering. “Drew, you’re not the only one hurting. She’s probably feeling the same way. And yeah, maybe things didn’t work out this time, but it doesn’t mean it’s the end. Relationships are messy. People change. But it doesn’t mean you’ve failed her. And it doesn’t mean you don’t love her. You have to give each other space to grow, even if that means letting go for a while.”

Drew closes his eyes, taking in Jonathan’s words. It’s hard to accept, but Jonathan has always been the one to cut through the noise and make him see things. He’s always been that voice of reason, his solace when everything else feels overwhelming.

“I don’t know, man,” Drew says quietly, his voice laced with doubt. “It’s just so hard to let go. I feel like I’ve lost everything. I don’t even know who I am without her.”

Jonathan lets the silence sit between them for a moment, and then he speaks, his voice steady and full of conviction. “Sometimes, Drew, love means letting go. It means stepping away so you can both find yourselves. I know you don’t want to hear that right now, but I’m telling you, if you’re meant to be with her, you’ll find your way back. But you can’t force it. You can’t force love. If you love her, you’ll give her the space she needs. And you’ll give yourself the space to figure out what you need, too.”

Drew leans back against the bed, the weight of Jonathan’s words settling in. He knows Jonathan’s right. He just hates that it feels like everything is out of his control. “I hope you’re right, Jon. I do.”

“I am,” Jonathan says firmly, and Drew can hear the certainty in his voice. “I’ve seen you two together. I know the love you had. And that doesn’t just disappear overnight. But right now, you’ve got to focus on yourself too. Figure out who you are without her for a little while. It’s not about forgetting her or moving on. It’s about finding your footing again. And that takes time.”

Drew feels the tiniest shift in his chest, like a crack in the storm raging inside him. He can’t fix everything. Not now, not yet. But maybe Jonathan’s right. Maybe he has to let things breathe. Perhaps the space will help them both find clarity.

“Thanks, Jon,” Drew says, his voice quiet but full of gratitude. “I needed to hear that. You’re the only one who can make me feel like maybe this isn’t the end.”

Jonathan lets out a small, knowing laugh. “Hey, I’m just doing my job, man. You know I’ve got your back. Always.”

Drew chuckles softly, even though it’s tinged with sadness. “Yeah, I know. I appreciate it more than you know.”

“You got it, bro,” Jonathan says with a light tone, but there’s still a depth to it. “Take care of yourself, alright? And remember, I’m just a phone call away. Anytime.”

“Yeah, I will,” Drew replies, his voice steadier now. “Thanks. Seriously.”

The call ends, but Drew doesn’t hang up right away. For a moment, he just sits there, processing everything Jonathan said. Drew knows he’s not going to figure it all out tonight. He knows the pain isn’t just going to disappear. But at least, for the first time in a while, he feels a sense of peace, a tiny flicker of hope amidst the uncertainty.

Jonathan keeps repeating: “If it’s meant to be, you’ll find your way back.”

[zalder]

Doing the right thing was always harder than doing the easy thing. That was why so many people so many people struggled with it. It was a weakness that even Zarah didn’t know that she was immune from. At the end of end of the day, she was human and even she could have impulses that were less than generous from time to time. “It’s easy to say what you would do when you’re not in the situation to have that choice,” she could admit. “I like to think that I could resist the power and do the right thing. Intellectually, it’s what I’d want to do but then there is this other side of me – a darker side of me that would literally make the worst choices.” That was where she hoped that there would be people in her life who would bring her to her senses and encourage her better angels to win. “What is meant to happen is supposed to happen and maybe it still would but if you could do something to interrupt someone’s worst day, wouldn’t any sane person give it a go?” After all it was all theory based on fictional technology and so none of it really mattered at the end of the day.

Zarah was very much an action sort of person. She could plan when it was necessary, knew how to put things together in a cohesive way. In her day to day, she simply took action when an idea came to her. She didn’t allow herself to get too bogged down with worrying about the aftermath – especially when it came to things that there wasn’t any real chance of long term consequences. It probably helped that in general she wasn’t afraid to do thing on her own. It was great when she could pull someone else in but if they didn’t she wasn’t going to let that stop her if she felt strongly enough about it. That didn’t mean, she believed in inviting herself in on things, even with people she generally thought liked her. “Do random roadside attractions have employees?” she couldn’t help but ask. She assumed if there was a museum or a whole town built around the landmark it seemed likely but if it was more like a random art exhibit on the side of the road it was probably less likely. “It would be pretty disappointing if you ended up somewhere alone and no one to take the photos but exceptionally long arms work as good as a selfie stick.” Honestly, the trips without pictures could be just as much fun if it meant getting to fully immerse in the experience without technology getting in the way. “The savings book idea would fail me. I’d end up borrowing from it every time someone invites me out. I’m much better taking it to a saving account I have to pretty much leave alone.”

There were pros and cons of not immediately heading to college after high school. It had taken her some time to really make that decision to get back into it. She’d never really had that dorm experience and a lot of the people in her classes were younger, not that she was exactly old but she had a few more years of life experience in comparison to some of them. She felt like having her own place, having a full time job and trying to balance the classes at night as an adult was easier than it would have been if she’d pursued it when she was eighteen or nineteen in comparison now. That didn’t mean it didn’t have its complications. For now, she was content to have a bit of a break before the next semester really kicked in. “I’m sure one of them will step up,” she said with a nod. They seemed nice enough and if they didn’t step up, surely someone that he worked with would be willing to help for a good cause. There wasn’t any cause as good as a road trip. “If they don’t, we’ll figure it out. I’m pretty good at rolling with the punches.” She allowed herself another sup of her drink. “Hopefully, he’s not home freaking out about fireworks. Marmalade hates them. I had to dose him a bit before I left the apartment.”

elias smiles, nodding a bit, “you’re not wrong there. it would be so tempting to use that power to visit old memories, or create new ones with your vision versus how they are intended to be created, but the right thing to do would be to use it for some actual good in the world. to make some difference that will affect the lives of millions in a positive way.” he wondered about the possibilities, what he would do. mostly he wondered if he would have the strength to use that power for actual good and not selfish reasons like the ones he stated. he would like to think he would use it for good, but there was no way for him to truly know. “change wouldn’t be too bad in the world. i know they say that people are supposed to die without interruption, but does the same go for blessing the less fortunate? i guess it would, huh?” he tried not to over think it because it’s not like they really had a time turner, tardis, or delorean of any sort of way to go back to the past. but still one did have to wonder.

most of the time when elias was planning future plans, unless they were revolving around someone’s birthday party or something else important, chances were eli was simply just planning. he had wanted to do this type of road trip for some time but had never had anyone who seemed interested in it, and he felt bad asking people to join him. but he was starting to feel like life was passing him by, everyone else seemed to be forming the memories he wished to form too, and he was tired of sitting on the sidelines. at least, in terms of traveling. “i assume they do too. in my head i just picture a very excited employee with a camera hanging around their neck just ready to snap the first picture they can. blinding you with a flash before you even get to step one foot in the actual place. if not, i guess i should invest in a good selfie stick. even if i have a good road trip partner i would feel bad making them my personal photographer, and i would them in the pictures too.” then he could create a nice scrap book of memories, the idea made him smile a bit more. “i will also invest in one of those savings books, you know? the kind that like start at a dollar or something and keep adding on until a certain amount? apparently it’s actually a very helpful tool, if you’re responsible enough. we can definitely make it happen.”

“oh, i bet.” even though he has been out of college for some time he can still remember the mountain of homework and reading he had to do during the semester. and during finals week or midterms? forget about it. he would be buried in a sea of books just reading things ranging from how to properly help a cow give birth all the way to assisting with a delicate surgery. by the end of it all, it was a miracle anything stuck. his smile softens when she says she’s glad for his support, it made him feel good to know he could support the dreams of his friends in one way or another. he grins at her night driving comment, playfully replying, “whaaat. no, of course not.” now summer 2025 had officially gotten exciting and his mind buzzed with all the places they could visit. “i’ll have to check in with my roommates to see if they would mind taking care of mochi while we go off on our adventures. i don’t think mochi would be up for any alien body snatching either, though i have not yet had this type of conversation with him. maybe i should do that tonight and give him the option.” he looks over to her, “just in case he gives me the meow of approval, how do you feel about traveling with a cat? he’s mostly calm, but he does get randomly affectionate and suddenly needs all the head scratches in the world.”

[stevethehairington]

MOBY DICK MAY HAVE BEAT THE BOAT BUT I FUCKIN BEAT MOBY DICK JFC LONGEST BOOK EVER

[sonknuxadow]

my honest reaction

[icewindandboringhorror]

It's always interesting to hear about people's weird/unexpected "alternate life paths". Like, something that you could have done with your life, a job you almost took, a school you almost went to, etc - that was still actually realistic enough that it could have happened, but NOW it seems to not suit your current personality.

Like for example, I currently hate advertising (how manipulative it is, brands trying to be 'relatable', social media amplifying it to an obnoxious extreme, etc.) so much that even seeing a little ad before a youtube video is grating to even witness, but there was a point in time where I was genuinely seriously considering going into marketing/making commercials as a career lol. Or like, I have a relative who was very inclined to be a pastor when they were younger, even though today they're a super strong atheist, etc. etc.

[hauntingblue]

Stampede aka another episode of luffy turning haters into dick riders just with his kind and big heart