ofthclight

[ofthclight]

Oh tomb raider how I love and miss you.

[ofthclight]

JON BERNTHAL as FRANK CASTLE | Daredevil: Born Again (2025) - 1.04 "Sic Semper Systema"

[ofthclight]

be honest, how many arguments do you think leia and han get in over the collective amount of bounties on their heads? do you think it bugs the shit out of han or is he secretly impressed that his wife has 100x the amount of money on her capture / death.

[ofthclight]

he's not sure what he expects from her --- or rather , that's a lie . he expects that she'll brush it off the same way she does everything else . a pillar of strength , his lara . she'll probably insist on finishing the job , hunting down the stragglers , or pushing through to the next thing instantly . instead , she breaks . shatters really . mal spares a glance to jonah . it's brief , and panicked , and searching for the kind of all-knowing wisdom that jonah always seems to have in spades . but the other man just nods , giving him an encouraging look , and mal follows his instincts .

those instincts have him wrapping his arms around her more tightly , holding her more closely . he can feel every trembling inch of her pressed against him , the warmth of her tears starting to soak into his shirt .  ❝ i love you . ❞ he shouldn't say it now . it feels selfish and too late and like he's putting too much on her --- and he's always been careful not to put too much on her . lara croft is formidable and terrifying , strong and impermeable . but she's also easily spooked , and so much of their relationship has consisted of him trying not to spook her . but still , the words slip out and he holds her tighter , one shaking hand curling at the nape of her neck to keep her pressed against him .  ❝ so much . ❞

he thought he lost her . he thought he lost her . that she would have slipped out of this world without knowing the truth . without knowing how thoroughly it would have decimated him . she's just been through hell . and he knows that he's putting too much on her shoulders too soon , so he does what he's gotten so used to doing with her , and he pulls back slightly . his palm scrapes against her cheek as he pulls her back so that she meets his gaze .  ❝ you don't gotta say it back but i needed you to know . ❞ shit , he's probably sounding like the clingiest friends-with-benefits known to man . and , to make matters worse , a few tears slip from the corners of his eyes , his nose stinging with the effort it takes not to sob along with her .

mal's mouth opens again to say more . to tell her never to do that again . that it nearly killed him this time and would certainly kill him the next . to beg her to give this all up , to come home with him and --- and what ? be the kind of polite , high society lady that his parents expect him to settle down with ? to sit at tea parties and visit museums and study from books ? that's not lara . and he wouldn't want her any other way . so , he says nothing , pulling her back against him and holding her tightly . opening his eyes only when jonah comes over with a basin of water and a damp cloth .

 ❝ little bird , ❞ it's somewhere between a sigh of fatigue and relief . jonah reaches out to brush a strand of hair away from her face , revealing one of the blooming bruises decorating her features .  ❝ do you want to talk ? ❞ mal loosens his grip enough for her to have freedom to move , should she choose . but truthfully , jonah likes the sight of her there . in the arms of someone who would give anything for her . who would lay himself at her feet just for her to smile .

with mal , he can almost see bits of the old lara . the ball-busting , pain-in-the-ass , too curious for her own good university student who made roth's brows pinch together in exhaustion so easily . the girl she was before all of this . dipping the cloth back in the water basin , he brings it up to lara's shoulder , gently wiping away some of the grime and blood that's coated there .

her bones feel like rocks tumbling down a hill, barely tethered together by filaments that refuse to gain pull, protest against the weight of her body shifting within mal's arms. even as her feet are lowered to the ground, pressure pushes into the soles, her fingers still cling to mal's shirt as if she were figureless, bound into shape by his encircling hold. she's shifted from mal's hold into jonah's as he pulls her to her feet, and lara blinks in a flurry of flashing memories, of the many, many times jonah's pulled her to her feet, digging heels into unholy earths and bloodied sands. her eyes linger on the hold of jonah's fingers around her forearms, but she's beyond that moment, past and present in a violent flux as she blinks furiously, as if the memories could just be shuttered out of the windstorm to settle back where they belong in the crevices of her mind.

finally, she becomes wholly aware of the pressure of jonah's fingers pressing into her bare arms, and her eyes travel up to his face. always kind, always warm. even in this moment, there is boundless understanding. and in this very moment, lara knows, jonah can see it. as her mind plays catch up with her reanimated body, lara knows jonah is very much aware. there is absolutely no reason lara croft's heart beats now. her eyes close almost painfully as the words spill from jonah's lips, as always, he assuages her internal chaos with his own dogma. she tries to smile, tries to let his words wash over her like the blissful, saltine seafoam upon a calm and quiet shore. that love is the reason she's somehow here, and maybe to him it is, jonah's always had much more of that for both of them, when lara's preferred to shell it away.

no, it's not love. it's something sinister that hammers cracks into her soul, welded by the heat of the sun god's divinity that once coursed through her veins, and something else, something that lingers that she doesn't quiet understand. an unfinished calling, a purpose unfulfilled. such exhaustion weighs her down and lara's body nearly stumbles into jonah's arms as her forehead falls onto his, for now she lets herself believe in jonah, she doesn't have enough to believe in herself in this moment so suspended in reality that lara can't even begin to understand. her lips press together, tongue pushes moisture into the back of her throat, and her hands push on jonah's arms as she finally, finally begins to carry her own weight.

it's lost on her in this moment, the hollowness of mal's presence as he sinks into the ground. it's lost on her what this kind of witnessed loss did to him. grief, lara's discovered, is a promised relic for each person alive, attained not a moment too soon, not a moment too late, and lara's greatest failure would be being the device that delivers that relic to mal, as she would come to realise someday. but right now, she turns into mal's warmth as his arms reclaim her into his hold. lara's eyes close again as she nods into his cheek, her arm winds around his neck as mal's arms lift her off the ground. she's more solid now, a little more frigid, not quiet the dead weight she's previously been in his arms. her other hand presses into his chest, feels the labored blows of his heart against his ribcage.

and she laughs, it's alien even to her own ears, the weary laugh mal pries from her with his remark. it's alien yet so normal, as if they were just belaboring a hard day's work, finally done. she lets herself speculate the very human needs her body requires, and right now she realises she's starving for food and water, for rest, a warm shower, and for a long, long, undisturbed sleep. she wants to keep up with the jest, join in on the banter as she ignores the deep-seated ache freshened by each jostle of mal's uneven steps as they make way outside of the hidden city and back into paititi. ❝ i don't think one drink will do the trick. ❞ she murmurs back, tries to press her lips into a smile as she peers up at mal, her fingers graze the back of his shoulder assuringly, more to herself than anything else. her eyes trail ahead to the tunnel lit by torches that winds back to paititi, and she wonders what kind of madness awaits. would the people of paititi rejoice at the return of their rightful king ? would a full revolt errupt when the remaining cult loyalists realise they're at the precipice pf extinction ? were the remaining soldiers loyal to etzli enough, and battle ready, to stave off a civil war ? was she ready ?

of course, peace doesn't occur to her, it's never been a companion she's expected. as the tunnels swells up into the open sky, lara's eyes tighten and screw shut to stave off the painful glare as she turns her face into mal's neck. lara's not aware the young king had placed greater bets on her success than she's realised, that a platoon of his soldiers stayed back to reign in the panic and control the chaos that would ensue after the sun's been saved. as they draw nearer to the city, the hollers and cheers arise among crowds of the paititians, quechuan chants drown out the the rustle of the winds and the babbling waterfall in the distance. lara slowly peels her face from mal's neck to look upon the path lined with applauders, she hears her name called in the midst of it all, cheers for the young king, and her lip trembles when she realises this really is it. eyes brim and glisten with pools of tears as she holds back the building cry behind her sternum, her fingers clutch mal's shirt for dear composure. her shining eyes travel between jonah and mal as she refuses to just believe that it just simply is done, that they just simply won. that trinity had been truly destroyed, once and for all.

of course, it's not simple. so many lives had been lost, and no matter how much victory they can reap from this, those lives lost in vain were lara's doing. the loss cancels out the triumph. she's earned as much as she's lost, painfully right back at the start, but sharpened with skills both desired and abhorred. lara bows her head, this time to hide away from the cheering, to hide away from mal and jonah, as she blinks away the tears and expels the air from her lungs, breathing in and out shakily, as the noise drowns out from around her and they're once more inside the cave where their entire movement had mobilised. she hears etzli's voice giving commands to tend to the wounded and count the dead, uchu passes down to his men, and suddenly — ' lara ? '

her eyes snap to etzli's face, his young, boyish face. he must be just as old as she's been when she lost her father, and what kind of loss is that to endure at such a young age. he wears the responsibility of his crown so well, and lara can only bow her head, in reverence, in envy. he's handling his losses so much better than she ever did. she bows her head deeply, if she could disentangle herself from mal's hold she'd bow properly, she only knew she'd likely crumble to the floor if she did. ❝ your highness. ❞

' i don't know what is next for you, lara. but for now, stay, recover. celebrate with us. you've earned your place among us, serpent warrior**. ' etzli's words are spoken swift and confident and almost leave no room for a rejection. lara's humbled by his generousity, and finds her heart swollen with a strange kind of pride, as if unuratu's destiny was not the only piece of her lara's claimed. all she can do is nod in grateful acceptance to his kindness, and etzli smiles, beams even. for a moment, she forgets he's a king, just a boy touched by grief too early, again, lara's doing. no, trinity's doing. you've stopped them, she tells herself. etzli ushers one of the women to guide the trio into a more secluded hut where they can wash off and rest, away from the remaining troops and cityfolk. more directions are given, something about food, a celebration to honor the fallen, a feast for the sun, so many things that lara can't keep her head upright to hear, the voices drown out as the heavy leather is drawn over the entryway of the hut, and in the sweltering heat, finally, finally. jonah, mal, and lara are alone.

finally, lara turns her face into mal's shoulder, and her sobs break through so violently her entire body shakes, her arms wind tightly around his neck, and she cries.

[ofthclight]

YEARS OF TRAUMA , RECOVERY , AND ISOLATION have left a void inside of her . the kind that people usually fill with suitable social skills and girlfriends and normal human interaction . it's never more apparent then when she's around coop . because she doesn't know how to act . is she still that same terrified girl who reached for him , clung to him , in the hospital ? or is she someone else ? the survivor . the final girl . the baker ? ❝ terrible taste . ❞ she says it as if he should know , as if this is something they talk about regularly . her terrible taste in partners . quincy feels her throat tighten as he takes a bite . when he groans at the taste , she exhales . ❝ i'll take that as approval? ❞

COOP HAS ALWAYS BEEN A TOUGH NUT TO CRACK.  those first few years, she wasn’t ever sure if he even liked her — some days, she’s still sure that he only keeps in touch with her out of some deranged sense of guilt. responsibility. it was he who saved her that night. quincy’s done enough research on trauma and it’s side effects to know that anyone who survives something like she did: they have their vices. their crutches. and she’d like to think that hers is the tiny blue pill in her pocket, or the locked drawer full of reminders that she exists. but sometimes she wonders if maybe her crutch is the officer sitting in front of her. the one she’s chained to the very night she can’t quite forget.  ❝ red velvet. ❞  she watches, trying not to look too…on edge watching him toy with the box.  ❝ halloween batch. ❞  as if that explains it.  ❝ slasher themed. ❞  the irony isn’t lost on her.   ❝ jeff keeps retiring himself as my official taste tester. ❞

WHY DOES IT SATISFY HIM SO MUCH WHEN HE HEARS THE THEME? Her cupcakes, an homage to him even if she doesn't know it. And it's almost enough to soothe the bolt of anger that fills him when she brings up Jeff. "Come on- a man who won't offer himself up on a silver platter to be a tastetester? What kind of taste do you have, Quince?" Quickly, his hands flip open the top of the box in an overdramatic showing of how eager he is, to offer himself as a taste tester for her baking exploits whenever she needs him. "It looks amazing." The compliment is easy, as he lifts the cupcake out of the box and looks over it. An easy grin is on his face as he wonders, briefly, if there are any unconscious features in the directions. Forgotten memories of the night they met, even if she doesn't remember the very beginning consciously. Bringing it to his lips, he sinks his teeth in, a faintly happy groan escaping him as he does.

@ofthclight continued from here.

[ofthclight]

all things considered , she supposes he can be trusted on her very important journey . besides , if he reports back to mother and father what she's been doing , she'll simply change her tactics . a good leader is always as flexible as she is strong-willed . leia lifts her chin and sets her shoulders , giving herself perhaps an extra half-inch of height before she proudly declares their day's destination :  ❝ i'm fighting in the rebellion . ❞ she's mapping out battle strategies with sticks , stones , and foliage from nearby trees . but she thinks it's pretty good . perhaps one day father will even let her in on one of his secret meetings she's supposed to know nothing about .  ❝ do you have any experience with the rebellion ? ❞

@ofthclight​

               ❝ i’m not a kid. ❞  she’s a princess. and she’s reasonably sure that there’s a difference. for a few moments, leia studies him, eyes narrowed, trying to gauge just how serious he is. freedom isn’t quite as appealing with him leering about. he doesn’t exactly blend in. but she’s spent the better part of the past three days mingling with senators and representatives and cousins ( the latter of which are always the worst ). wearing pressed garments and sticking pins in her hair and being on her best behavior. and there’s a gnawing itch to be free from it — and even with him, she supposes something is better than nothing.  ❝ very well. ❞  she attempts to mimic her mother’s confidence as she lifts her chin and marches past him, continuing on her way. they’re not going far. and she’s not in any real danger — but even if she was, she could handle herself. the blaster holster strapped to her hip is proof of that.

              what she is is precocious.  it’s amusing in some small measure,  but it will grow old fast.  he has had a few charges which wished to slip away from his watchful eye in the past.  a good chunk of them had good reason for it but in this instance,  he is here in a protective role.  and a rather generous one if he does say so.  most would march her back to the palace.  he gave her a choice.  emil represses his amusement as she reorganizes her demeanor to appear commanding.  she does an excellent job of it.  ❝  very well,  ❞  he echoes.  he folds his hands behind his back and follows after her.  emil glances about them with each step.  there is little in the way of threats.  but even still.  ❝  where is it that you’re trying to get off to?  ❞  he asks,  lifting a brow.  

[ofthclight]

THE CUTTING EDGE (1992) dir. Paul Michael Glaser

[ofthclight]

he ponders the question for a moment , as if waiting for the sting of reality to bite . a reminder that he's alone in this world . but that's how he likes it . how he's always liked it . as a boy , he kept to himself . quiet , reserved , usually with a book in his hand or his eyes on his surroundings , observing . as an adult , he isn't much different . and that's never bothered him , although he's sometimes wondered if it should . in response , edric only gives a small shake of his head , keeping his movements slow as he brings his hands together and rubs his thumb over a knuckle .

they're at an impasse , one that seems far greater than it should be . on one hand , she's lacked control for so long that he doubts she knows what to do with it now that she has it in excess . on the other hand , him making a decision would likely result in her resorting to old habits . ones that he has no interest in continuing . ❝ anything you've wanted to see? ❞ his throat feels thick , brows furrowing slightly as he studies her , as if the answer will somehow reveal itself in the etch of her brow or the way she chews her food .

 @ofthclight / from here

one of the first things they were ever told during training and recruitment was that they needed to be careful around the assets .  there were those who could damn near read minds .  manipulate emotions .  it’s what made him so good ,  he thinks .  what made him so valuable to them .  edric has always been good at keeping things under wraps .  he has spent a lifetime keeping his thoughts and emotions under wraps .  under control .  but it’s not until now ,  when she looks up at him with wide ,  soulful eyes ,  when her soft voice skewers him through the heart as if it’s a knife ,  that he realizes he has to be careful for an entirely different reason .  for many reasons .  in many ways ,  it’ll be easier for her to trade one captor for another .  he can’t remember if she’s ever known the taste of freedom ,  but even if she has ,  it has been so long that the liberty of it might damn near be as suffocating as the chains that she just escaped .  edric swallows ,  considers his words carefully before he regards her with a pinched brow .   ❝ i leave that up to you , ❞  he murmurs ,  giving her a firm nod .   ❝ i’m here to escort you as long as you need me to . ❞  and no longer than that ,  he thinks .  as soon as she gives him any indication that she’s ready to be on her own ,  that she’d rather him go his own way ,  he’ll be gone .  he can promise himself that ,  he thinks .  at the very least ,  after everything that has been taken from her ,  he can stand beside her as she finds whatever comes next .  edric glances down to where she sits tentatively on the floor ,  the book resting in her lap as if it’s the most precious of cargo ,  bar of food between her teeth .   ❛ not prisoner . ❜  he signs ,  the movements of his hand definitive and confident .  firm in his conviction .

she can do little else but stare for several moments which, while only lasting mere seconds, feels more as if it were long minutes. the man might as well have signed in an entirely unknown dialect. not prisoner. she mulls it over in her mind...over and over and over. ❛ i have nowhere to be escorted to, ❜ she finally manages to point out. it's done in a dull sort of way, like an absent answer given by shell-shocked lips. how overwhelming a concept freedom is. it might be nice to crawl under the bed just now and make the world small once again. instead, magnolia settles for another small bite from her protein bar. it suddenly seems sickeningly sweet. brows furrow and head tilts downward as she makes an effort to think clearly. usefully.

silence lingers far too long. stillness settles into her sorrowful bones. should it not be exciting? anywhere in the world, the whole earth sprawls before her. it is rather terrifying. an empty chasm hungry to swallow. ❛ no one will miss you? ❜ she suddenly thinks to ask. before lithe hands even finish their movements, she knows the answer. he too is alone.

[ofthclight]

people often ask him what he misses most about hockey , and the answer has always remained the same . the simplicity . the rules were simple , at least for him . nothing gets past him . nothing gets through him . not a puck , not a body , nothing . his body was meant for one job and one job only , and that was to defend the thing most important to him . and then , well , one unfortunate move met an ill-placed skate and the rest is history . folklore for the figure skaters he surrounds himself with now , and warning for the hockey players he surrounded himself with then . the resulting knee injury was bad enough that it ended his professional hockey career just like that , but not bad enough that he can't still twist , turn , and lift a pint-sized human above his head while she dazzles the crowds and judges alike .

people have stopped congratulating him on their victory today , and he knows he should be gloating . grinning . celebrating along with anya --- who , now that he thinks about it , probably isn't celebrating at all . hell , the terror probably has their next four routines already half-planned in that terrifying , beautiful brain of hers . the mere thought is enough to break through his rare bit of brooding to bring a small smile to his mouth . his attention landing to his hands where he's wrapping the lanyard part of the medal around his hand over and over , then unwrapping , only to repeat . the same methodical , ritualistic way he used to wrap his stick before every game .

it's only then that he tunes into the commotion around them . like the beginning trickle of water before a flood . doors at the end of the hall leading to the parking lot slam open , someone shouts to call 911 --- he's up and moving before he even thinks . someone outside is crying . although , the word is a poor description of the sound . on the ground is a crumpled body , hands clutching at a knee , hair hiding a face . teddy's body floods with cold . he knows that body , that knee , that hair . that cry .

people ask him what he misses most about hockey , and his answer will always be the simplicity of it . defend . protect . when necessary : use your fists . old habits die hard , and they die screaming . his icy gaze darts from anya to the gangly , feral-looking figure currently being restrained by a few other bystanders , all of them pale and confused . the dots don't take long to connect . teddy's feet carry him there in four -- five strides . his arm is pulling back before he can think and his fist is flying once . twice . a third time and the guy's already on the ground , knocked cold .

a siren sounds from behind him , punctuated by another sob and anya's blubbering about a knee . her knee . people gawk at him , but he's past caring . let them talk . film . gossip . his priority isn't his image , it's his sanity . and right now , his sanity , his lifeline in this entire sport , needs him . ❝ i've got you . ❞ she fits easily in his arms , slides easily onto his lap as he brushes hair away from her face . ❝ couldn't leave you alone for five minutes , huh ? had to go and get yourself into all sorts of trouble . ❞ jesus fuck , the wound is bad . her leg is bent at an odd angle , there's a pipe --- a fucking pipe --- lying on the ground a few feet away . he feels nauseous . ❝ i got you honey , you're gonna be okay . ❞ she needs to be okay . skating is her life , the same way it's his . although for her , there is no easy pivot to something else , no rebound backup to fall back on . his arms squeeze tighter at the same time that his mouth presses to her temple .

there's a moment when the music fades out, when the applause becomes a white noise and all anya feels is the beads of sweat freezing on flushed skin, the warmth of @ofthclight's hands where they lay on her in the finale of their performance, the entire rink becomes silent except for labored breaths forming clouds between them. anya thinks of that moment as what heaven could truly be like, refractory bliss that eventually gets invaded by the announcer's boom that splits the silence for applause and cheers to infiltrate and anya and teddy return to earth.

it's a high anya rides and chases and craves in its very intensity, she leaves teddy in the dressing room as the event draws to a near end, as she treks out to the parking lot, packed with with cars of the audience and cars of contestants and their coaches. the song from their earlier performance plays loudly from the earbuds she's wearing, she's too indulged in their victory, as the medal swings upon her chest along with the literal skip in her step. now is the perfect time to gift teddy one of her favorite books, wrapped and stowed in the car's trunk for this very moment, when they're so close to their goal.

she doesn't hear the footsteps behind her, nor does she sense the shifting gravels as they approach. suddenly she's thrown into a car's hood, the ribbon of the medal tightens like a noose as they fling her aside. air gets knocked out of her chest with the force of the impact, she doesn't even hear her own voice, she doesn't remember if she screams as her arms come up to push against the scrawny chest of the man who flings her once more, this time the mesh sleeves decorated in strass rip in his grip, and she lands palms first onto the ground, head bounces off the concrete, earbuds clatter somewhere under the car, the song still plays, the smooth riff of a bass guitar scores her horror when the pipe rises and strikes her knee, and footsteps scurry off as more draw close, rescuers, perhaps? the rink's security ? random parking lot stragglers ? more attackers ?

she's too shell shocked to think, the world around her becomes too loud for anya to register. she can only hear the muted song play on and on, the earbuds still connected to her phone. red and blue lights flash, there's a distant siren somewhere, someone is wailing, the axis of the world around her shifts and she realises someone sits her up, she realises she's the one who's wailing, her face is red and hot and swollen with tears, her throat is so closed from the force of her cries she can barely breathe. that's when she sees the flash of blonde and blue, and she clings to it desperately, as she's gathered into a familiar warmth, and finally she finds the words, ❝ my knee, god, my knee ...❞

semi plotted starter for teddy wyatt.

[ofthclight]

i'm here out of spite and that spite is:

people are going to realize that w.yatt r.ussel is a Certified Snac because of, ya know, and i want to stake my claim as an OG knower of this fact

people are also realizing that j.on b.ernthal is ALSO A CERTIFIED SNACCC and again, i was here first. FIRST.

the new t.ron trailer dropped and My Boi wasn't in it and that, my friends, has me incensed

[ofthclight]

MONARCH: LEGACY OF MONSTERS | 1.09 "Axis Mundi"

[ofthclight]

Lia where have you been, it’s been months?! Oh my god that’s so embarrassing, I’m so sorry, I’ve been crying over Star Wars.

[ofthclight]

Wyatt Russell in Night Swim (2024)

[ofthclight]

Anyone But You (2023) dir. Will Gluck

[ofthclight]

ANYONE BUT YOU (2023) dir. Will Gluck

[ofthclight]

[ofthclight]

no one would ever call him a romantic. he's not even sure anyone would dare suggest that he's good with words. but sometimes, when he looks at her, he wishes that he were. maybe then he'd be able to explain that the tightness in his chest doesn't feel so suffocating when she looks at him like that. or that when she smiles, he feels like he might actually be able to breathe for the first time in what feels like months. the last time they went to a dance together... fuck, he wishes he remembers which part she was referring to, because he only remembers sweaty palms and a too-tight suit and trying to calculate how low he was allowed to place a palm on her back so that it remained decent but also sent a clear message to everyone else that stared at her that she was ( at least momentarily ) off the market.

❝ when it comes to you spellman, i'm always up to the task. ❞ he can't offer her more than that, he'd be selfish if he even considered it. but he can pretend. he can flirt and charm and sweep her off her feet a bit, but he knows it'll always have to end there. ❝ eight o'clock. ❞ he confirms, swinging his legs off the chair and standing tall, taking a step closer to reach up and pick a stray strand of hay out of her hair. ❝ i'll pick you up. ❞ leaning down, jake brushes a kiss over her cheek, pausing when his mouth just barely ghosts over the shell of her ear, ❝ missed you, 'brina. ❞ ( @awalkoflife )

continued from ( x ) with @ofthclight / sab + jake.

❝ the alternative being? ❞ she asks, raising her brow in playful curiosity because she already knows what's being suggested here. it doesn't take a single ounce of magic to read between the lines. sab hasn't forgotten the way he used to take up literal pages of lines in her diary. there were memories from so many summers past, stories of their life that somehow, felt like fiction instead of reality. they weren't kids anymore and maybe that fact alone was enough to explain it. she had to take into account the distance between them too, the years that passed due to his career. the separation that forced them to lose touch until every once in a while, he appeared again, much like now, looking every inch the heroic homegrown hero. and god, she missed him. no matter how many times he left, or for how long, the countless occasions she'd tell herself to move on.... she came to find that she never could.

what is time though, she considers, when he's looking at her with those eyes and that grin. it's enough to convince her that maybe, there's a world that still exists where they're seventeen again and staring up at the stars, wondering where they'll be at this precise moment. his question makes her heart momentarily skip a beat. it's not what she's expecting and the answer she has for him is one she spins into a question of her own. ❝ you remember the last time we went to a dance together, jake seresin? ❞ perhaps it wasn't imprinted on his mind quite as strongly, but she never did forget that night. for all of the right reasons, of course. she would have promised him the world and she almost did. ❝ i don't know if you're still up to the task these days. ❞ she smirks, taking the flyer and pinning it back up. it's almost time to pack up, so she makes a new suggestion. one that will allow him to see her out of her overalls, with freshly washed hair, wearing clothes that aren't covered in kernels. ❝ why don't we take you out for a test drive tonight? that way we can grab a beer and you can show me some of those mighty fine moves of yours. how's eight o'clock? ❞