#like no that’s a totally fair criticism of what I said I could have worded that differently but at the same time it is kind of draining

[polyamorouspunk]

.

#I want to make a post joking like oh I should be euthanized I need to be put out of my misery but there’s like a 50/50 shot #that someone’s going to come into my inbox and call me homophobic or something because gay people are murdered #like ‘you can’t joke about wanting to be euthanized when other people are murdered against their will it’s insensitive’ #because that’s just the kind of shit I get in my ask box sometimes #this is NOT related to anything about me being like oh I’m afab and I don’t have these problems and people being like but some afab peopledo #like no that’s a totally fair criticism of what I said I could have worded that differently but at the same time it is kind of draining #to talk about my own experiences and have people be like well you need to reword that because it doesn’t apply to ALL afab people #like I wasn’t trying to say it does I’m saying it doesn’t apply to ME because IM afab not afab people overall #but like I’m not going to be mad about that I’m just tired and it’s draining #like I genuinely sometimes feel like I cannot say the most basic things on here NOT because of stuff like that as I said and I mean that #but because of people who really just are super out of touch with how the internet works

[j0elmill3r]

Emotional Motion Sickness

Pairing - Joel Miller x Daughter!Reader, Ellie Williams x Miller!reader

Summary - Joel relives the worst night of his life when you are critically injured.

Warnings - Violence, blood, injuries, angst, sad Joel

Word Count - 2.5k words

Anonymous asked:

Hello! I wanted to tell you that I love your writing❣️ and by the way, I wanted to ask you for a petition for Joel miller x daughter! reader. Where his daughter is almost on her deathbed and has Deja vu with what happened with Sarah.

A/N - Okay what's going on? Why am I so motivated to write? Anyway, as always, thank you for the request, I hope you enjoy it! Feedback, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated!

Joel Miller Masterlist

You'd basically begged your dad to let you come with you, despite being 23 years old, Joel still very much babied you. You sometimes wondered if he still thought of you as the same person that you had been at the start of the apocalypse, an innocent child entirely dependent on her father - He made you think that he couldn't come to terms that you had grown up in this world, having had your entire childhood robbed from you. But if you were being totally honest, you didn't really know anything other than this world, and that's why you thought you bonded with Ellie so well, thinking of her as your younger sister - A bittersweet thought for Joel, since you were a younger sister, even though you had no older sister anymore and were now older than her, it was funny, you were now older than your older sister. He liked to think you and Sarah would share the same bond at that age that you and Ellie do now, even as adults.   

You looked over to the bed Ellie lay in as you heard her giggle to herself - That stupid joke book, you thought to yourself, but hey, it was the little things in this world. She looked over at you.

"Hey, do you wanna hear a joke?" She asked you. You turned over on your other side to look at Ellie and nodded, knowing that you didn't really have a choice in the matter. "Okay, Why did the scarecrow get a promotion?" She started.

"I don't know, why did the scarecrow get a promotion?" You amused her. Ellie giggled to herself before continuing on with her joke.

"Because he was outstanding in his field," You shook your head as Ellie continued giggling. There was something oddly comforting in her jokes, they reminded you of the ones your dad used to tell you when you were little when he was trying to get a smile out of you when you were grumpy. "Your dad doesn't find my jokes funny." Ellie whined. You laughed and shook your head, laying on your back.

"To be fair, your jokes are pretty bad," You broke the devastating news to her, hearing Ellie gasp, and you smiled in amusement.

"I, am gonna go to sleep now and pretend that you didn't say that," Ellie told you. "Goodnight, traitor." She said, trying to sound as offended as she possibly could.

"Goodnight, Ellie," You told her. You tried to go to sleep but felt a settling unease in your stomach that you couldn't explain. You knew you could never shake off your gut feeling, which was why you couldn't sleep. You couldn't seem to switch off, your brain running at a mile a minute, unable to shake off the unease settling in your stomach. The day had gone too well, considering your dad's reunion with your uncle Tommy had gone to plan, there hadn't been some catastrophic fuck up at all during the day, somehow unsettling you. Then came a thud from the front door. Quietly, you crept down the hallway towards the door, your body and breath shaking with each step you took. Another thud. This time, you didn't know if it was coming from the door or your heart thumping in your chest.

Thud.

Crash.

Before you had any time to think, a runner came launching through where the door once stood on its hinges, then sprinting towards you. You screamed out for your dad before being body slammed to the ground by the runner, trying your best to fend it off and protect yourself from being bitten.

"Dad!" You screamed out, fear evidently clear in your voice. Joel woke up at your screaming, immediately reaching for his gun as he ran out of bed and to the room that you and Ellie were sharing, where the aforementioned girl lay sound asleep. Running down the stairs, Joel found you fighting for your life. Without hesitation, Joel fired two shots into the back of the runner’s head. You quickly shoved the body off of you and scrambled to your feet, running to your dad and wrapping your arms around him. Joel let out a sigh of relief as he held you.

"It's okay, look at me, Y/N," Joel demanded softly. You met your father’s worried eyes with your tear-clouded ones. "Did it bite you?" He asked you, in a serious, yet comforting tone. You shook your head in response, rubbing your eyes of tears. It went quiet for a minute, only for it to be replaced by that terrifying clicking sound. More gunshots went off. Bang. Bang. It didn't matter how many times you experienced a hoard of infected, the fallout never ceased to terrify you. Joel knew that, feeling that your breathing had become quick and shallow. "Okay, go and get Ellie, we need to get out of here, okay?" Joel had both hands on your shoulders, looking you in the eyes. This was when he remembered that you deep down, were still a scared little girl.

"Okay," You said quietly, your voice trembling as you looked out of the front door, more gunshots ringing off in the distance. You went back upstairs to wake Ellie up, giving her a gentle shake at first. "Ellie come on, we need to go," You told her. She groaned in response, turning to her other side. "Ellie, I'm being serious. There are runners everywhere." Suddenly, the girl found the energy to get out of bed, quickly jumping into her shoes and slinging her red zipper on. You both ran down the stairs and out of the house, into the open air where herds of the infected runners overtook the commune. You looked around frantically for your dad or uncle Tommy, sighing in defeat when you found neither, deciding to quickly grab Ellie's hand and make a run for one of the trucks you could both take refuge in until it blew over. However, on yours and Ellie's beeline to the row of trucks, you heard one last gunshot ring out.

You stopped dead in your tracks. Everything had gone silent, but then it all came back, the blood rushing to your ears, Ellie yelling out for your dad, your dad calling out your name. You didn't know why, had something happened? Was there something behind you? And then you realized, the blissful unawareness of the gaping hole in your stomach dissipated, and was now replaced with excruciating pain.

"Joel!" Ellie cried out, her eyes filling with tears as she watched you collapse onto your back, hyperventilating as you clutched at your bloodied stomach. "Hurry!" She cried panickily, kneeling beside you. Joel came running over, skidding onto his knees beside you.

No, no, no! Sh-sh-sh-sh, okay, you're okay. Y-You're okay, move your hand, baby. Move your hand.

Memories of your sister’s death came flooding back to him, only it was you in the exact same position, 20 years later.

"Y/N, hey, come on, it's okay, look at me," Joel said loudly over your hyperventilating. "I need to pick you up baby, you're gonna be okay," He promised you, putting his arms under you, wincing as you cried out in pain.

I know, baby, I know, I know, I know, I know! I know it hurts. All right. Don't look down, look up, look up. Come on, baby. You're okay, you're okay…

You continued crying in pain as Joel ran back to the house, carrying you in his now blood-soaked shirt. You'd gone pale, shaking as you grasped at your dad's shirt. Tommy followed in suit as you were taken back to the house that the three of you had been allowed to stay in for the night before continuing your trail to finding the fireflies. Tommy swiped everything off of the table so Joel could lay you down on it. The commune's doctor came in with a first aid kit, rushing over to you.

"I need everyone out," She said, looking at your dad, Tommy, and Ellie. Joel wanted to scream at her. No. He wouldn't leave you alone. "Now, please, or she's going to die." The three had never left a room so quickly, but for Joel, everything was going in slow motion.

"I know, I know, I know, I know, baby. I know, I know! I know this hurts. You're gonna be okay. All right… Baby, baby, baby, listen to me—I gotta get you up, okay? I gotta get you up. All right? You c'mon. You c'mon."

You grabbed his arm the same way that she did - as if it were the only thing keeping you alive at that very moment. Joel sat down on the stairs, dropping his head into his hands, leaving Tommy and Ellie clueless about what to do. Tommy knew what Joel was thinking, he still remembered the night of the outbreak, remembered holding you, only 2 years old at the time - 4 days shy of your 3rd birthday - as your sister slowly died in your father’s arms.

She continually gasped, both for air and in pain as Joel tried to pick her up.

"I know, baby! No, no. I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know! Tommy, help me!"

Tommy watched on helplessly, holding an increasingly distressed you. Although you weren't quite old enough to comprehend what was going on, you knew it wasn't good - You could hear your sister crying and gasping, but Tommy held you chest to chest, you didn't need to see what was going on.

"Joel," Tommy said tearfully, looking over at his oldest brother and oldest niece, who now lay limp in her father’s arms. Joel looked back to his oldest daughter.

"C'mon, baby girl. C'mon, baby girl, I gotta get you up. C'mon! C'mon, we'll get up! C'mon, baby girl, wake up! C'mon… come—please," Joel gave up begging, collapsing to his knees in tears. Tommy put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, and it was then that Joel realized how distressed you were. "Give her here," Joel sniffled, rubbing his eyes and nose as he held his arms out for you. He held you close as you continued sobbing.

"Daddy," You cried, clinging to your father as though he was your lifeline. He put his hand on your back, trying not to let the tears in his eyes spill over as he rubbed your back.

"It's okay baby girl, daddy's here, I've got you," He assured you, sensing your fear. "It's all gonna be okay baby girl, I promise." Joel didn't know who he was assuring, him or yourself.

The tension was thick was the commune nurse came out of the dining room, coated in a layer of your blood. She made eye contact with Joel, remorse written on her face.

Oh, no.

You had ended up staying longer in Wyoming than the three of you had hoped for, but there was no way it could have been prevented, given that you had been put on ordered bedrest for at least 3 days, but Joel had made you do 4 - Just in case, he had said. Ellie had been more clingy with you than usual, which had reminded you that despite how hardened she liked to act, that she was still only a child who had been unfortunate enough to be born into this world.

You knew the night had been traumatic for your dad, resurfacing painful memories of Sarah's death, you didn't know if your dad would have recovered if he would have lost you in the same way he had lost her. Joel sighed as he watched you limp into the kitchen, holding your stomach as you did.

"Good morning," You said quietly, hobbling over to the chair so you could sit down. Joel shook his head at you and handed you a glass of water, and your last antibiotic. "Thanks." You popped the pill into your mouth and took a swig of water, then swallowing both.

"You're supposed to be in bed," He gently scolded you. "Another day resting won't kill you." He said. You sighed and shook your head, you knew why he was being like this, he just didn't want to lose you, he had already lost so much to this apocalypse.

"Dad, I'm fine, honestly," You assured him, looking up at him as he leaned against the kitchen counter. "Just still a bit sore." You said, rubbing your stomach as you moved. You had to be careful of how you moved, just in case you tore your stitches.

"Please go back to bed, baby," Joel pleaded with you. You knew he wouldn't relent in trying to get you back onto bed rest, you sighed in defeat and nodded. "Thank you, do you need me to carry you up the stairs?" He asked you. You blushed in embarrassment as you nodded - what 23-year-old still needed her dad to carry her to bed? Well, obviously you did since your large intestine had a slight tear in it. You whimpered slightly as he picked you up, and you saw the guilt immediately flood onto your dad’s face.

"'M fine," You mumbled, holding onto him as he carried you up to his bed. You didn't question it, but accepted it for you were in need of some comfort, and if sleeping in your dad’s bed gave you it, then so be it. You saw an amused smile on his face as you looked up at him, quirking a brow in confusion. “What?”                                                                                                                               "What's' Forrest Gump's password?" He asked you, a small smile on his face.

"Huh?" You asked, confused at who this Forrest Gump character was.

"1Forrest1," He finished. Then you realized - Ellie's jokebook, and how he used to tell you dad jokes when you were sad to try and cheer you up. You giggled at the joke as you looked at your dad. "You have no clue who that is, do you?" Joel asked you, laughing as you did.

"Not one at all, old man."

#joel miller x daughter!reader #joel miller hbo #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams hbo #x daughter reader #x daughter!reader #x daughter #hbo the last of us #the last of us

[coral-melon]

Heya!! CM! (Get it your user!)

Its 🍓 again :3

Would you be able to write imagine/hc thingys how they would react to seeing your human form for the first time when you go to the human world with them! Im thinking along the flustered fluff/ possibility suggestive thoughts about mc =^=

Any of the brothers/dateables u want! But if your looking for specific just mammon & levi as personal preference :3

(AFAB preferred but No description of gender js cool too :3 )

Aghhh sorry this is worded so weird I’m not the best leaving suggestions i feel too askyy ;^;

Your writing is lovely and i can’t wait to see more!!

- 🍓

Hello again -🍓! Love the ‘CM’ nickname! And by all means, ask whatever you want and however much you want! I’ll always make the time to write any requests~

Also sorry for taking so long; I really wasn’t too sure how to write this, and I’m sorry but I kinda tweaked it and lil bit.. ^^’ I was going to make everyone but I ended up only doing Mammon cuz I thought it would’ve been a very long post. BUT! I can most definitely make separate posts for each of the brothers if that’s something you and others want!

A and as always, if it sucks just lemme know! Constructive criticism is always welcome >;)

Cotton Surprise

Obey me! Mammon x Sheep!MC

Genre: Fluff, crack/shenanigans, slightly suggestive

What’s it about?: Seeing your human form for the first time!

Not that many but They/them pronounce; mainly AFAB

A throwback to Lesson 19 from the original game but tweaked it as well

Edit: ((There were minor changes cuz someone made a comment that pointed out to me how maybe some people didn’t understand what I was telling. Totally my fault ^^’🙏))

None of them ever understood why you turned into a sheep. It happened as soon as you first arrived to Devildom. But the more time they spent with you, they got used to it — some even forgetting you’re a human all together.

One day, most of the Brothers were sitting together in the living room. It was mostly quiet until Asmo brought the question: “Hey, What do you guys think MC looks like if they weren’t a sheep?”

It left them a bit dumbfounded that they hadn’t even thought about it. They got so used to you being a sheep so it kinda just slipped their mind. It also got them to start bickering a ton of what they thought you’d look like.

— “What’s with all the commotion?” A voice interrupts their conversation. Lucifer walks in with you in his hand, talk about perfect timing!

— “We were just talking about what MC looks like if they were in their human form.” Beel explains.

— “Oh right.. none of you have seen them.” Lucifer remarked, chuckling softly under his breath.

— “What does that mean?” Satan says with already irritation in his voice.

— “Well, it’s only right that I know what MC looks like. I was the one who picked them, after all.”

This got many of them heated! Jealous that Lucifer was pretty much the only one that knows. Mammon, Levi and Asmo were whining about how that’s not fair, Satan was gritting his teeth, and Beel along with Belphie just sat quietly watching the scene. They quieted down once you said, “I could just describe what I look like, y’know.”

All of them gathered around like a bunch of kindergartners getting ready to listen to a story book. They payed such close attention to every detail you said and tried to visualize it in their head to the best of their ability. It only made them even more eager to see you for themselves.

And it didn’t happen until the very last moments before you had to go back to the human realm..

… With a true loves kiss! >;D

Cliché, I know. - -’

Mammon

After dipping the House of Lamentation, he ends up in who knows where but more importantly, away from Levi. After he was done huffing for air, both of you start laughing from the absolute fun of stupidity you guys had. You couldn’t help but think about how odd it must’ve look from someone else’s perspective.

You two eventually eased off and took the time to catch your breaths. And then realize the beautiful view you guys have of Devildom. He sits you down gently on the thick stone fences while he rests his body on it. There was a short, soothing silence between the both of you — a soft, cool breeze blowing while you watching the city lights together. Mammon eventually brakes the silence and says,

“Y’know what? It’s always fun whenever you’re around.. I’m always smilin’ and laughin’ when we’re together. There’s never a dull moment..” he says softly; when you look up at him, he’s not looking at you but can tell he has a blush decorating his cheeks.

You smile at him warmly, before looking down at your tiny trotters. You were a sheep till the very end.. you had fun, but you can’t help but get a little sad thinking about it. Like just now, you would’ve been able to run away with him instead of being carried like a pillow.

“W-Who needs the human world, eh? You don’t gotta go back! I want you right here in Devildom, I want you here with me, all the time..!” Mammon looked straight at you, you perked up at him once he said that. He looked at you as if you were the greatest treasure he’s ever had. He wasn’t kidding around, such an unusually serious and determined face…, you felt butterflies in your stomach.

There was a silence again, you looked at him with in awe eyes. He slowly leans in, you leaning slightly forward.. letting whatever was going to happen, happen. Until finally, his lips reached you.

☁︎ —Poof— ☁︎

Light clouds suddenly surrounds you, Mammon was completely taken aback; and then he just freezes. When the clouds disperse, it revealed you.

You felt.. different. Blinked a couple of times before you looked down again. And to you completely surprise, the troopers you looked at but merely a few seconds ago were replaced with hands! You touched your face, your hair, your legs.. they were all back! You give a yell for joy, your curse has been broken! But then you also realize how you didn’t have any clothes on… you looked at mammon — who had his face completely red and eyes glued on you, completely frozen in place. Which made you freeze for a moment.

(Him)→ ╭( ⸝⸝๐_๐)╮ (○□○) ←(you)

— “AAAAAAAHHH!!!”

— “AAAAAAAHHH!!!”

You tried to cover yourself to the best of your ability; but first of all, you can’t really cover much. Second, he already saw everything! Both of you were very flustered, embarrassed, and still shocked by what just happened. You weren’t a sheep anymore! What’s up with that?!

Thankfully, Mammon at some point finally snaps out of it and covers you with his uniform’s blazer. You grip onto it tightly and covering yourself to the best of you ability. You mutter him a ‘Thank you’ under your breath. But both of you were still quite frantic, looking at each other with wide eyes while huffing to calm you nerves.

“Aha! …Found you!” A voice suddenly says from a short distance. It was Levi!

“Oh shit..”

“Mammon, Give me back my moneeey!!”

“Yikes! Time to go!” He says, lifting you up into his arms and making a run for it. And man did he run! He probably ran faster than when he was being chased by Lucifer. Levi didn’t see it coming’.

You were in a daze, you’ve been carried by him countless times.. but today you felt like a princess that’s been swooped by Prince Charming — a very peculiar one, but still charming.

He — at some point — stops running and hid in whatever corner he thought was good enough so that Levi wouldn’t find you two. With his back to the wall, he collapses to the ground. With you still in his arms but making sure you didn’t fall. You can’t help but laugh and pull him into a tight hug.

Mammon felt like his face was going to explode any second now, he just couldn’t believe that he was holding the actual you — and naked at that! But whatever was going through his head completely perished once he heard your lovely laugh. You were so happy.. embracing him with all your new found excitement. It felt like it was only the two of you in the whole word, so nothing else mattered.

“You broke my curse, Mammon!” You say. When I say this guy’s ego got inflated, I mean it. He felt like nothing could stop him now. That’s right! The great Mammon just did that! No one else!

He takes a closer look at you face; he always kept in mind all of the details you said that day, but you looked way better than what he had imagined. He couldn’t believe his eyes…

You suddenly pull him in and give him a passionate kiss; and oof, was he over the moon! After that one, he starts feeling greedy. Just one kiss isn’t enough..!

—☁︎

Later on, he bought you a few clothes since, of course, you didn’t have any. And decide to go back home.

When he went back to the House of Lamentation, he wanted nothing more than to just sneak in without his brothers knowing. But much to his dismay, Levi was already waiting for him at the gates. And when he realizes that the person he’s holding is you, he goes hysterical and now the rest of his brothers know..

“Oi, that’s enough! Step aside! Can’t ya see MC needs to get to their room??”

He’s always looked out for you.. from beginning to end. You felt like you were falling in love with him all over again. It was hard to believe that life here was coming to an end.. You want to make the most of it before having to go back home. But at the moment, you just wanted time to stay still, just for a moment..

End

I had a lot of fun writing this! So tysm for requesting it -🍓. Tho again, I’m sorry for not really completing what you asked for.. I still hope I was able to put a smile on your face! Take care~

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me requests #obey me fluff #obey me shenanigans #obey me crack #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon x mc

[mystarsohee]

theres nothing like doing nothing with you

genre: fluff, a little bit of angst, comfort

inspired by bruno majors "nothing" mostly the first verse/chorus tbh (also my first post lowk scared !!!!)

!!! non-sexual use of daddy

cg!sohee gn!reader

silently coloring on the living room floor, which is one of your favorite things to do while trying to make time go faster so sohee would come home from whatever hes doing. usually you would wait to move into a younger headspace until sohee came home, but you felt upset. upset over who knows what, you just felt bad that day.

you didnt hear the door open. or sohee walking into the living room, until you heard his voice, "hi baby! im home now okay?" with a smile on his face which always made you feel at ease, and a kiss to your cheek. you only hummed at him. he decided to sit next to you, "your coloring looks amazing baby, you're gonna have to give that to me so i can hang it up!" again, only humming at him to express your agreement.

"do you want to play? or have you eaten? i havent seen you all day!" sohee questioned. you responded, "i dunno" not accepting it as an answer, he got up and headed towards your room. where was he going? all you wanted today was to be near him, but now hes gone again? you slowly start to sniffle, just because you felt bad all day without your daddy, but he disappeared! "baby? what happened?" oh. you looked up slightly, your favorite stuffed animal stared right back at you. "im sorry love, i could tell you were a bit upset and i went to grab a stuffed animal for you before i tried to talk to you." he said along with a kiss to your head. "cm'ere, lets sit on the couch together." without a word, followed his request, you cuddled up next to sohee, comfortably with his arm around you. not wanting him to think you're mad at him, you held your stuffed animal and tried to explain, "i feel really bad."

"bad? did something happen?" he placed the back of his hand to your forehead to check for an alarming temperature. you looked up at him with a pout, "no.. just feel bad." hating to see you like this, he quickly tried to come up with a solution. he brushed his hand through your hair, "well.. seunghan left his nintendo switch here, are you up for a game of mario kart?"

mario kart? sohee knows that you dont play around when it comes to mario kart. in this headspace or not, you wont go easy on anyone. "i'll beat you!" you sat up as adrenaline quickly rushed through you at the thought of playing mario kart. "we'll have to see about that baby, i've been practicing!" he responds, again, with that pretty smile of his.

after one round and your victory, sohee quickly asks for a rematch. "no fair! i was distracted by your cute face." he says, pretending to be defeated, though he knew he would lose because he cant resist your face while you concentrate on maintaining your spot in first place. you can't help but laugh at him, "daddy how did you lose, this one was so easy.." you ramble a bit and criticize his technique, and try to give him advice. though he makes an effort to listen, he focuses on the way your eyes sparkled while talking about something you love. he wonders if you look that way when you talk about him to someone else. snapping out of it, he hears you say "i don't feel like playing this anymore, it's too easy.."

"well, what does my baby want to do? how are you feeling after totally crushing me in mario kart?" he doesn't want to suggest anything, because you usually like to be the one who picks the activities you feel like doing that day. you think for a few seconds, while sohee cleans up the controllers, "i want to do nothing." you do this often, you request to do something that sohee doesn't really know how to give to you. he still does everything in his power to meet your needs. if you ever asked him to bring the stars down from the sky for you, he would do whatever it takes to get them to you. "alright then. nothing it is." so he just sits there. doing nothing. just like you asked. you did the same, sit against him in silence. and you felt perfect! exactly what you wanted. to be with your daddy, and do nothing! just be there with him is all you want.

the both of you sit there, for atleast an hour or two. you just fidget around with his hands, and admire his pretty moles. he just stares at you in disbelief, watching you somehow entertain yourself with just himself! no movie, no phones, just the occasional "i love you" or kiss coming from you or him. theres a million other things sohee could be doing right now, but he doesn't care about that. as long as you're happy and content with the current situation, he would be too.

"have i told you lately, i'm grateful you're mine?"

author note: my first post on tumblr ever !!!! i hope whoever reads this enjoys, and feel free to request something for me to write! im pretty much open to writing anything riize/nct whether its agere or not 💞 feedback would definitely be appreciated!

#sohee x reader #sfw agere #kpop agere #cg!sohee #cg!riize #mystarsohee #riize sohee #sohee #riize #riize imagines #songfic #riize fluff #sohee fluff #lee sohee

[lipzlipzlipz]

Coping

After the second task, Fleur wanted someone to blame, knowing full well who really deserved her ire.

765 words, rated G

Takes place in the same world as my fic Tender Is The Night which you can read here on ao3. I’m not totally sure but I don’t think I’ll be adding this ficlet to ao3 so it’ll just live here for now.

For the Ladies of HP Fest Monthly Mini: 1 Feb 2024 - Fleur Delacour @ladiesofhpfest

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This is outrageous and an affront. I demand to file a formal complaint against whoever is responsible,” said Fleur upon bursting through the door of Olympe Maxime’s office in the Beauxbatons carriage. It had taken time to make sure Gabrielle was cleaned, fed, and napping in her room, but once she was convinced of her sister’s warmth and safety she’d marched straight towards the office.

From her chair behind her desk, Maxime watched for a few moments as Fleur furiously paced back and forth, then said, “Calm yourself, Fleur. You should’ve known the song wasn’t meant to be taken literally once you realized what was stolen from the champions were actually people. You should’ve known Gabrielle wasn’t in any danger.”

“How? How could I have known that?” Fleur asked, coming to a stop and glaring at the older woman. “People have died in this tournament. No matter what protections they used today, the risks for the hostages – for any of us – have never been zero.”

Was she the only one who knew this? How could anyone think this was acceptable?

“Gabrielle is not old enough to have consented,” argued Fleur. “It’s also clear my parents were not told the full extent of her requested involvement because they certainly would not have given their permission either. And why her, for that matter? The other champions had friends, a couple of Yule Ball companions – Gabrielle is my blood! The only one brought in from outside the school.”

It wasn’t fair. Granted, the other champions had undoubtedly been unnerved at the thought of their friends under threat, each of them having to cope with that turmoil as they braved the task. But what was taken from her had been her family. If her dalliance with Hermione Granger were known and she’d been selected instead, Fleur was certain she would’ve been less rattled by it. While the girl’s participation as Krum’s hostage still filled the young Veela with an odd mix of fear, concern, and jealousy, Hermione was fifteen and a capable witch, and Fleur would’ve been on more equal footing with the other champions in her search for her.

Now that she thought about it, another thing the hostages had in common was that neither of them was of age. It was absolutely barbaric that the age limit put on champions had not been a limit for their hostages as well. And Gabrielle wasn’t even in school yet. Her little sister… immobilized and tied down under that horrible lake. The thought sent a frightening chill down her spine.

“Whose idea was it to choose her? Was it yours?”

“Of course not,” replied Maxime in a placating tone. “The organizers and headmasters consulted together. I suggested your friends Odette and Paolo, even the boy you took to the Yule Ball since it was apparent that’s where they were leaning for Krum and Diggory. It was Mr. Crouch who’d sent a message through his subordinate to suggest your sister… hm… in hindsight, the note was curiously adamant about it.”

Her eyes narrowed. Fleur didn’t like Crouch. It hadn’t bothered her that he’d skipped the Yule Ball and the second task. But now she wanted him here so she could give him a piece of her mind.

“But regardless of Mr. Crouch’s motives,” continued Maxime pointedly, “you as a fully-grown witch and champion of Beauxbatons were expected to maintain your composure no matter who was chosen. You faced the same obstacles in the lake as the others.”

Fleur frowned and clenched her fists. Unsaid, yet loud and clear, were the criticisms at her performance against the grindylows, creatures a fourteen-year-old boy had bested, and she felt those criticisms as if they were lashings across her back.

Not wanting to let Maxime see how she’d been cut, she stormed out of the office. Only when she reached her bedroom did her face fall and her shoulders sag. Fleur opened the door and silently entered her room, collapsing onto a chair facing her still-sleeping sister.

The innocent girl who idolized her would never cast blame. Neither would Hermione. And later, Fleur would seek out the brunette and take comfort in her arms, but right now she wanted to wallow in the painful truth of her shortcomings.

The issues of fairness in the tournament didn’t matter. What mattered was her.

Her wits and skills. Her ability to overcome her emotions and accomplish her task.

Which she hadn’t.

In the end, when challenged with the belief that someone she loved was in danger… Fleur Delacour had failed.

And she would never forgive herself for it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note: I didn’t originally plan to contribute to this fest but then yesterday I had an idea of how this conversation between Fleur and Maxime could’ve gone, taking inspiration from Tender and how I kept her canon tournament performance, and I typed this up.

Thanks for reading!

#pretend Fleur and Maxime are conversing in French #fleurmione #but more like background fleurmione #fleur delacour #ladies of hp fest monthly minis #tender is the night

[cosmicjoke]

I totally get that Levi kept Erwin's true motivations to himself out of respect for him, but at the same time it saddens me that he kept it from Hange (someone else he was close to) and he sort of sat back and watched her suffer under the weight of a false legacy for four years. Hanji's term as commander was going to be challenging no matter what, but it's messed up to me that she had to hold herself and is held by the a lot of the fandom to a standard that didn't exist, at least not in the way they thought. I'm not good at wording things so if it sounds like I'm going after Levi I'm not trying to

I don't think it's fair to say Levi "sat back and watched Hange suffer", he was there for them and acted as basically their right hand-man, the same way he did Erwin. He never abandoned Hange. Erwin was the one who handed down the commandership to Hange, and Erwin was the one who chose to go to Shinganshina, knowing there was a high probability that he wouldn't survive it. And I don't think Erwin's legacy was false, in the end. As Levi tells him, it was because of Erwin that the Survey Corps reached as far as they did. It was his vision and his skill as a leader that enabled them to succeed for so long and so beyond what they ever had before. None of that was false. None of that was a lie. Whether Erwin's own, personal motivation in bearing the burden of the commandership was for humanity or a personal dream didn't really matter in the end, because he still lead the SC admirably and effectively. So I think Levi keeping Erwin's secret was his attempt to save Erwin from unfair and unjust criticism. People thinking less of Erwin for not being perfect and not being entirely selfless would have been a travesty, because they would have used that to discredit his own sacrifices for the SC and for humanity.

I understand what you mean, that it was unfair to Hange to have to bear the burden of the commandership for Erwin's sake. But it could easily be turned around and said that it would have been equally unfair, or more unfair, to continue to saddle Erwin with that burden, simply to spare Hange. It was really a catch-22 situation, and that's the nature of the Survey Corps and their mission, in which sacrifices have to be made for humanity's victory. Hange signed up for the SC, like everyone else, and they knew what that meant, they knew the risk involved, and what was expected of them all in their mission to free humanity. In the end, for Levi, it came down to a choice in which someone was going to have to bear the burden of the commandership. There wasn't any option in which that wasn't a reality. And he chose to let the man who had held that burden for years, and who had already sacrificed his own mental health to it, finally rest, and to save him from the possibility of losing his humanity entirely. What people don't always want to acknowledge about Levi's choice is that Erwin's guilt was eating him alive, a guilt unique to his realization of what was truly motivating him, and that without the possibility of his dream on the horizon to distract him from that guilt, with the realization of that dream, there would have been nothing acting as a buffer between Erwin and that guilt. It would have consumed him. When Levi says Erwin would have had to become a devil if he'd continued on as the commander, I think he meant that literally. He knew Erwin was in danger of losing his humanity, because of his guilt. Hange was in no such danger, because Hange wasn't weighed down by guilt, at least, not guilt associated with them harboring a secret motivation. Hange's burden and exhaustion, and eventually, sense of guilt, came about because of their inability to find any, real solution to the hostility facing Paradis from the rest of the world. It wasn't the same as Erwin's guilt. It wasn't rooted in secrecy or even in the sacrifice of lives to further the SC goal. The titan threat was more or less eliminated for them after they retook Maria, and there were no more deaths of soldiers until the Yeagerists overthrew the government, essentially. Hange's guilt was rooted in their sense of failure as a commander. It's important to understand this distinction, because while Hange's guilt and burden was heavy, it was never a threat to their humanity. It never threatened to consume them the way it did Erwin, it never threatened to turn Hange into a "devil", because it had nothing to do with Hange harboring a secret that threw into question their altruistic intentions.

Levi was forced into choosing then between letting Erwin lose himself entirely, losing his humanity, or Hange enduring the weight of the commandership. He can't be held responsible for Hange, or Armin, for that matter, holding themselves, unfairly or not, to Erwin's standard. Erwin was a great commander, regardless of what his true motivation was. It wouldn't have been fair to him to sully that objective truth by exposing a secret told to Levi in confidence. When Levi tells Armin "Nobody could replace Erwin", it shows he still believed in Erwin as a truly great leader, worthy of the respect and admiration of his soldiers. He still saw Erwin as a great man, despite his faults. Hange failing, in their own eyes, to live up to Erwin's legacy, and allowing that supposed failure to drive them toward a sense of guilt, isn't Levi's fault. Levi never told anyone they should compare themselves to Erwin. Levi never told anyone they should try to be Erwin, or emulate him. He told Armin the exact opposite, in fact, and if Hange ever expressed to him their own feelings of not being worthy of Erwin's legacy, Levi would have told them the same. That they brought their own strengths and their own worth to the role, and there was no point in beating themselves up over not being what Erwin was. And again, that's sort of the point. Erwin was a great leader, regardless of his personal motivations, and he was a great leader for his own, unique qualities, his vision and intelligence and determination. No one could or should have ever tried to replace that. It wouldn't have been right for Levi to besmirch Erwin's legacy or call into question the respect he was entitled to, just to help Hange, or Armin, or anyone else stop being so hard on themselves by comparing themselves to a man no one ever asked them to.

#Levi Ackerman #Hange Zoe #Erwin Smith #attack on titan #shingkei no kyojin

[ms-cartoon]

Usually, I wouldn’t post about this kinda thing... I’m not even sure this is fully necessary to be posted. I don’t wanna make it seem like I’m trying to grab attention or pity or anything like that just so someone could feel bad for me. No, that’s not the point of this post. But its mostly to show how sensitive and toxic fans could get about a youtube show that’s not even that good. 

I’m sorry to all the Vivzipop stans, but whether it’s a fact or opinion of mine, Helluva Boss is NOT the greatest thing on earth people. And it’s not just because of the writing or the characters. It’s just not that good. This web series is not pitch-perfect! It should not be that great to where you should feel the need to go after people who don’t like it.

If you love this show to death to the point where you would call it your most favorite series, then fine. It’s whatever. LOVE the show. I really don’t care. I’m not gonna judge someone for liking something I don’t like. I’m not THAT immature! I’m not gonna make a comment on someone’s post, calling anyone stupid or crazy for shipping Stolitz or saying Stolas or Blitzo are well-written characters or that Stolas makes a great father. I don’t even bother to make a comment on a post about people not liking critiques about HB/HH, saying something like, “Those haters don’t know what they’re talking about!” “What is wrong with these critiques??” “This is a bad take!” Mostly because I would just be wasting my breath.

So with that being said, why make those same comments on a simple critical post!!??

So I made a post about the recent gif of the new and upcoming episode of Helluva Boss. It’s shown with Striker capturing Stolas and they make a ride somewhere on a horse (which is a complete waste of time. Your main objective is to kill him. Just shoot the frikin bird!) And I was mainly ranting about how it didn’t make sense that Stolas was getting captured. I was saying that despite being tied up he could’ve used his abilities and turned Striker into a stone like he did with an imp in episode 2 of season 1, or not even just that, just any of his powers. Though I did make a fair statement saying that whatever was tied around him could be some sort of special angelic rope that could be keeping him from using his powers. All while also pointing out that he is still free to move his legs cuz they don’t appear to be tied together. And his hand is free; he’s on the phone with Blitzo. I also opinionated that this might be another Stolitzo-centric episode and I was not going to like it. And THAT was when the hate comments came my way (No kidding, honestly)

One of them didn’t even seem like it was harassment, but it still annoyed me how they said I was just whining and complaining. They said, “Duh! Blitzo and Stolas are the main couple!” and “If you don’t like it, then don’t watch!” “What’s the problem with it?”

You wanna know why that’s a problem?

Okay. First off... Stolas and Blitzo are NOT EVEN A COUPLE! I don’t know where the crew is going with these two, but they’re not even official yet. Plus, there is no point continuing with the Stolitz-centric BS if it’s going to take long for them to become a thing. And how can they be?? How would it even make sense? I highly doubt Stolas would even make a good boyfriend. Stolas being the horny perverted dick-for-brains that he is does nothing but flirt with Blitzo and makes inappropriate remarks at him to the point where they have to censor his words. All he ever did was make Blitzo uncomfortable, and he knew that!! 

Not to mention he forced Blitzo into an agreement to have sex with him each month in exchange for a book which is totally pointless now! Especially when there’s this thing called asmodean crystals, where you could use them to go to the living world anytime you want!! And at that moment, he saw through one of the bath bubbles that Blitzo was in the middle of a dangerous predicament and STILL decided to call him at the worst time just to make this deal. Since it was in the heat of the moment, Blitzo felt he had to agree with him just so he could end the conversation and get back to finishing his job while staying alive. That just goes to show me that Stolas was using this to his advantage to make Blitzo agree with him since he saw what was going on and decided to call him while his life was on the line. He totally knew what he was doing!! And since being caught by humans is SUCH a bad thing and would cost your reputation, why risk that kind of possibility with no ounce of concern for your “boyfriend’s” safety?

And instead of seeing Blitzo as a person with FEELINGS, why does Stolas call him his, “Impish Little Plaything”? He’s practically telling Blitzo, “I OWN YOU!” He was literally taking advantage of him and manipulating him!!! And if he loves Blitzo oh so much, why does Stolas still feel so entitled while looking down on the imp race! He’s not even as nice to Moxxie or Millie. And he even abused his butler!!

And then there was that time on their date when Asmodeus was calling him out on having an affair with Blitzo and had the absolute NERVE to try and hide his face!! Why was he suddenly embarrassed about that anyway? This was NOT the first time where he was seen in public with him. He was fully obligated to show himself at the door with Blitzo in front of that guard that wouldn’t let him in. He even flirted with Blitzo in front of everybody at that Harvest Moon Festival!! And now, all of a sudden, he’s embarrassed to be seen with? And he had the AUDACITY to invite Blitzo into his home to cuddle with him!!! 

It’s not like Blitzo is innocent in this either. He also manipulated Stolas just to get what he wanted. Not once, but twice. He tricked Stolas into stealing all of his father’s belongings when they were kids. Tricked him ONCE AGAIN when they grew up, seducing him as a way to distract him while stealing his grimoire. Blitzo didn’t even care about him. He probably didn’t even want to see him after all those years! He was just there to take the book and LEAVE!! And he only went along with having sex with him out of pity.

How can we even call these two a couple, yet Blitzo was so quick to let Sharkboy bang him in his room! And why did we hear Stolas call Striker “sexy” while on the phone with Blitzo in one of the leaks???

Yeah... main couple my ass....

These commenters go on to say something like, “You’re not critiquing! All you’re doing is complaining! You’re just being a hater!!” 

Now, let me explain the difference between criticism and hate:

Criticism - the expression of disapproval of someone or something based on perceived faults or mistakes.

or 

the analysis and judgment of the merits and faults of a literary or artistic work.

Criticism can be positive or negative. I mostly give negative criticism while also showing some irritation and annoyance about whatever I’m talking about. I’m pretty sure that’s mostly where they think I’m just complaining or hating on it.

 Okay, so I like to express my feelings... so what??? EVERYONE does it when they give a critical analysis. And I’ll admit, I do hate the show. I definitely don’t feel for it like I did when the pilot first came out. But at least I actually have A REASON for hating it. More than a few reasons in fact. 

Speaking of hate -

Hate - the feeling of intense or passionate dislike for someone or something.

People always say that hate is a strong word, and I can agree. But the difference is that when you hate something, there is no reason or logic. When you hate something, you don’t care at all about wanting that something to improve or get better than how it is. It doesn't matter, because you just hate it that much! All there is is mockery and disrespect. And when you express hate, you’re attacking someone or harassing them with your harsh words.

And me hating something is different, cuz at least I’m actually expressing the reason why I don’t like it. And I’m not trying to harass ANYONE!! I’m just saying what I think is wrong, why I think it’s wrong, and that I don’t like it! And I actually WANT HB to get better.

Some may think I’m complaining about something when really all I’m doing is stating a fact or opinion.

"the writers will come up with a stupid bad reason” is not a good critique, it's just complaining.

Well sh*t, am I lying??? Man cheats on his wife, and we all know cheating is wrong, no matter why he did it. Oh, but wait- turns out she’s very abusive toward him and doesn’t love him at all! So now, it’s suddenly okay that he cheats. And despite hating him, she still decides to stick around and not divorce him just because she likes to torment him. Why does she like to torment him? Who knows! She’s just evil by nature as it turns out! Man could divorce said wife himself, but only sticks around for the sake of his daughter so she could live a normal life even though he and his wife already constantly fight in front of her. Can’t ignore the fact that he flirts with someone in front of her and continues his affair with that someone despite how she felt about it.... and he just wants her to be happy....

Yeah... definitely makes total sense.

Then they say this, “Maybe Stolas isn’t escaping because it’s a comedy show, DUH!! Things aren’t supposed to make sense. Sometimes things happen and you have to go along with it.”

No...No, sweetheart. That’s not how things work. Besides, for a comedy show that’s not supposed to make sense and be taken seriously, they really try their hardest to tackle some serious moments that are supposed to be soo emotional. And with the way THEY’RE doing it, it’s not very easy for me to just go along with it. There are some things I just can’t ignore and I’m going to feel annoyed by them. I’m sorry (I’m really not)

And as for, “If you don’t like it, then don’t watch it!”

Let me tell y’all somethin’.... If I wanna criticize and post about shows that I think need criticism, then I’m gonna continue to watch the show. If I wanna put anti-tags on posts, then will do that. And if I wanna watch something simply to laugh and make fun of it, then I will. If YOU don’t like that, then that’s on you. Just know that all you’re doing is wasting time typing your butthurt comments about me “complaining” about something knowing damn well I’m going to continue making criticism regardless of how you feel when you can simply just ignore me. Better yet, just BLOCK ME so you won’t have to see me complain about your precious favorite show ever again. I don’t understand what’s so hard about that. It won’t take but a couple of clicks of a button. 

And lastly, one of these comments go on to harass me, calling me pathetic and mentioning this, “How could you hate on something, make art of it and sell it?? You can’t even come up with anything creative on your own! How pathetic!” And it is a VERY stupid reason to come at me over a criticism post. I don’t like HB, there are a lot of people who don’t like HB, but lots of other folks do. So I make art of it and I sell it. And it’s not like I’m intentionally stealing anything. I know I’m drawing the same art style, but I’m creating my own designs of my OCs. I’m not the only person who does this, mind you! I’ve seen plenty of artists do this on Twitter and Deviantart. So what this person is trying to point out here is completely irrelevant!

I may have replied back and said, “There are other people who do this kinda thing. So go and harass them! Go back and forth on their post!” I really didn’t wanna recommend they do this to other people, so I apologize on behalf of the people who sell art with this style or criticize this show for saying that. I was mostly just telling them what’s the point of coming at me for this reason when other people do it too. Like I said, all they’re doing is wasting their time knowing we are never going to hear them out.

So yeah, I just wanted to put this out there. These guys really irritated me. Looks like I joined the club, being harassed by toxic fans. Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered replying to them and going back and forth with them. These guys were probably twelve years old. There’s no point in me arguing with children, cuz they never admit when they’re wrong. But if I feel that someone sh*t-talking me, then I won’t let it slide!!

#helluva boss blitzo #Helluva Boss #criticism #critique #critisism #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critical #helluva boss critique #toxic #toxic fans #Helluva stans #helluva boss fans #anti stolitz #anti helluva boss #anti blitzo #anti stolas #indie animation #stop harassing people

[aropride]

wrt that poll abt tone indicators thats going around.w ell first of all tbh i think some of the hatred for them comes from cringe culture. but second of all. some of the criticism is totally fair like there are a fuckton of tone indicators and sometimes . there really dont need to be. and the abbreviations can be confusing i try to type out ones that arent s srs or j. tho i feel like most of the newer ones were popularized on twt so itmakes sense they wouldnt be written all the way out

like i think my prolem is when theres SO many and theyre redundant. i found a carrd with a fuckton of them that im gonna comment on To entertain myself sorry

like these 3 all feel redundant .. why do u need a different tone tag for Mostly joking than Half joking ? or for a Coping joke ? just use /j or combine with with like, /neg or something to get the tone across yknow? and /ji - first of all looks like /ij (inside joke), second of all why not just use /j

and like. why half serious or mostly serious or not serious when /j or /hj exist ? why /ns when it looks so similar to /nsrs, which means the opposite ? ive been using /s since like 2015 and /srs since like 2018 so ivegot those down and dont confuse them but i see why could be for some one who hasnt used them b4, why make it more complicated?

i like /g or /gen in theory- ppl have said its confusing bc gen could be general which i get, but for ppl familiar w tone tags tend to know what it means. genq is one ive used just bc. its fun to type tbh. and i think ppl get what it means but its not really Necessary. BUt genep and genc feel unnecessary when /g and /srs exist, and /gene is just, a word. that's just a word ! 😭

ojh my god. i should do a tone indicator tier list

as you can see my adhd meds are working

/nbr is funny bc half the time when some1 says theyre not being rude they definitely are. also there's already /g /srs and /lh. /nm is either helpful or deeply confusing Bc i try to take it at face value but sometimes i see it and im like. Why would i be mad ? and i start overthinking. but thats a me problem

i like this one i use it when i complain a lot Bc i dont want ppl to think im vagueing them i just love complaining

i love these ones. tone indicators for Being Mean To Someone. dunno if its on this list but ive seen /pa and /sbh (/passive aggressive & /somebody here, respectively) which is SO funny. i dont think theyre helpful really though except /neg Bc again. these all mean very similar things !!! why not just clarify extra things with a parenthetical

THESE R ALL THE SAME TONE !!! why not jsut use one single tone indicator for this !!! or none at all and just type the word !!!

need /nfl on a shirt in the aro colors so poeple know im not fucking interested in them. that aside. 1. whywould u need this ever !!! why not use again just /j if necessary.and 2. isnt the nfl a football thing

these r similar but i do like them, i think typing out a whole word again is a better solution so u dont have to scavenge google for the meaning but i think its helpful to clarify this and isnt synonymous with /j or /s or /lh

i think these ones are almost all just from the op's discord server or w/e, i won't bash that cuz if it works for them it works, that being said i dont think This many tone indicators for these types of things r helpful outside of that specific context yknow? also, /fx is really funny

ok i wont say that typing tics dont exist bc tics can be complex and vary by situation etc so im sure they can, but is that happening That much that u need a tone tag for it ? and also like. for /unin just delete the msg or say "oops sent too early hang on" or smth.. and as for vocal stim. first of all why is it /vt ? and second of all . why ... would u need that to type out ? bc if ur vocal stimming that would be. out loud? i.e. not in a chat where youre typing ???????@????>?,//???? BAFFLING. also in what situation is /gib necessary i genuinely cant think of one

ANYWAY.

None of this is to rag on tone indicators (/genuine) i think they can be helpful + i am always being gensrs when i use them. i just think some r a little silly & a lot from longer lists are unhelpful Bc theyre supposed to make communication Easier and Clearer + haveing So many tone indicators with Different Implied Tones WITHIN the indicators !!! makes it harder imo. bc if theyre to clarify tone why should i have to fight for my life deciphering why someone went from /mj to /hj yknow.

like this is all my Opinion and imsure these r all helpful for Someone otherwise they wouldnt exist but i rly feel like the system could be condensed a bit yk.

do i have a system in mind to suggest here ? well.

(also. this whole post is /genuine, /lighthearted, /not upset, and /not passive aggressive. and a bit /silly)

#text

[rising-volteccers]

ngl, i feel like one reason i love pokemon horizons so much is because of how much i can relate to liko. i saw some of your ask responses/posts about liko's character development and how others have some rather negative opinions on it. so, i was so curious to see how the episode would play out.

after watching the episode today, i personally think that what liko did does not ruin her development at all? i think it's fair, in the sense that liko is still in the midst of figuring out her path. i don't think her progress needs to be linear, and like kabu said, there is so much to learn from failure.

i also find that these seemingly sudden changes are realistic. on a personal level, even i act in different ways than i and others expect. in an academic setting, most people perceive me as confident and assertive because i lead projects and recite a lot, but there are times i hesitate out of fear (what if i can't do it? what will others think of me? what if my professor/supervisor thinks i'm incapable/stupid?). i've also experienced passing up the opportunity to someone else, only to regret it later and wish i stepped up.

liko feels very much like a younger sister to me, because i understand what it's like to grow up and how COMPLICATED that process is. personally, i think it's great that they add some moments like this in her journey. anyway, yeah these are my thoughts!

oh and just so you know, this is that anon who sent an ask about liking your account and anticipating your thoughts every week. will probably mark my asks with this star 🌟 so you know it's me hehe! hope you're doing well!

Honestly you put the words right into my mouth! Character development and growth isn't always linear! Sometimes I feel like those who are 'critical' about Liko's character forget that she's still ultimately a kid, a preteen at best. That's an age where you're continuously learning about yourself, trying to figure out who you are. Liko's a kind hearted, considerate girl. We've seen since episode one that she's the sort who overthinks, thinking that what she's doing is the best course of action but ultimately she didn't realize she wasn't considering the feelings of those around her.

What I feel like is one of Horizons' biggest strengths is that they touch upon topics that both kids and adult could relate to. Friede finding that being a professor isn't all that cracked up to be. Losing a friend over a disagreement. Showing kids that adults aren't totally different from them, that it's normal for them to cry too. Liko still figuring out her path, that there's even success in failures because you've got an opportunity to grow from it instead of it being a do-or-die situation.

You can fail. You can grow. You can achieve. I love how these themes are shown in the episodes.

And you're totally right about how complicated the process of growing up is! Even when you reached adulthood, it's still a work in progress to learn who you are, what you want, what your dreams are. It's nice to know that you see Liko as a younger sister! I too see her as one who I want to help her navigate through the intricacies of growing up.

Thank you for sharing with me your thoughts and informing me who you are! I'll just refer you as star anon then haha! And I'm doing as well as I can be! Just chugging along one day at a time. Hopefully you're doing well too!

#Pokemon Horizons #Hana answers

[mywingsareonwheels]

What I wanted characters to say to each other this year so far...

(Spoilers behind the cut for: "Endeavour" series 9; "Shadow and Bone" series 2; "Good Omens" series 2; "Heartstopper" series 2)

Fred Thursday, to E Morse: I love you, you're my best friend and like a son or brother to me. I don't want to leave you behind, or neglect you. But I'm burned out, and exhausted, and scared, and you seem to be doing a lot better and meanwhile my son is disintegrating and my daughter is getting married and I am *so tired* and so terrified, so you can't be as much my priority right now as I'd like. It's hard for me to confide in anyone or let you help me. But I will try, and I do love you, so so much.

E Morse to Fred Thursday: I love you, you're my best friend and like a father or brother to me. I find it so hard to believe that you care about me, and I'm scared that everyone is leaving me behind yet again, and I'm hurt that you are, and I don't know how to help you. Please confide in me and let me try. I do love you, so so much.

Kaz Brekker, to Inej Ghafa: I love you, but I'm in a bad way and I don't know how I can be with you in a way that works for us both. But I do love you, so so much. Please come back one day.

Inej Ghafa, to Kaz Brekker: [actually she pretty much said it all, bless her] [but another affirmation of love would have gone well I think]

Aziraphale, to Crowley: we aren't going to agree on this, but I'm not leaving you behind because I don't love you. I think I'm doing the right thing. I'm scared and broken and everything is hard right now. But I love you, I ache for you, I know that you are good and kind and worthy and you don't need to be an angel for me to love you, *I will be back*.

Crowley, to Aziraphale: we aren't going to agree on this, but I'm not staying behind because I don't love you. I'm desperately worried about you and I wish I could change your mind. I'm scared and broken and everything is hard right now. I'm worried that you can't love me as I am. But I love you, I ache for you, I will try to trust you, *I will wait*.

Pretty much everyone in Heartstopper: ACTUALLY USED THEIR WORDS even if it took them a while, excellent, well played good gentlebeings. If Stephane Nelson can get his act together by s3 that'd be great (hey, Thibault has form for redeeming himself as a dad ;-) ), but Nick will cope if he doesn't. 9/10 at least for all the characters who aren't shits.

Disclaimer: this is not in any way a criticism of the writers of any of them except I think Endeavour, for I have... complicated feelings about that final episode, and whether doing That was actually really, totally necessary to set up Inspector Morse (I don't think it was, for at least two reasons, so it feels to me like gratuitous pain and the fucking up of a precious character arc tbh). But wrt Shadow and Bone and Good Omens? Fair play, that's brilliant storytelling, some things need to take their time, and romantic cliffhangers are awesome actually (provided they then get resolved at some point!). And Shadow and Bone has multiple awesome relationships, in some of which communication does actually happen. <3

But that doesn't stop me yearning for those characters to say those things, even though I think it's artistically better that the ones in S&B and GO didn't just yet. <3 Heartstopper is a different kind of show, where that would be less appropriate. But in S&B and GO it is actually brilliant. Just... ow. ;-)

Watching Heartstopper after the other three was rather a particular blessing tbh. :)

#itv endeavour #endeavour s9 spoilers #endeavour s9 #endeavour spoilers #shadow and bone s2 spoilers #shadow and bone s2 #shadow and bone #shadow and bone spoilers #good omens s2 spoilers #good omens s2 #good omens spoilers #good omens #heartstopper s2 spoilers #heartstopper s2 #heartstopper spoilers #heartstopper #fred thursday #endeavour morse #e morse #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #aziraphale #crowley #endeavour morse & fred thursday #kanej #ineffable spouses

[vxxlkyrie]

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Cupid

Word count : 942 words (4 865 characters)

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Masterlist

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VALENTINE'S DAY SPECIAL!

----

“Ash.. what on earth are you wearing?” You stood awkwardly outside one of the bathroom stalls, staring at Ashley. She thought it would be hilarious to go to school dressed as Cupid for Valentine’s Day.

“I told you I was going to dress as Cupid!” She says with a big smile. You were speechless.

“I thought you were joking!” You whisper-yelled to her. It definitely wasn’t the usual colours she wore, especially not to school.

It was a poofy, white and pink dress with light pink ribbons all over. She even had the bow and arrow with the heart tip. Even down to feather wings on her back. Definitely wasn’t the craziest thing she’s worn, but still, she mostly wore black and purple not white and pink. To be fair she did show up to school in one of those blow up dinosaur costumes.

“Don’t you think it’s cute? I was going to go around school pretending to be Cupid!” She was definitely excited. You sighed. Once Ash had an idea there was really no talking her out of it and you knew that.

The two of you walked out of the bathroom, making your way to the gym. Since Valentines Day was in a couple days, the school was throwing a dance for the students. And of course, got the very same students to help organize it.

The rest of your group was sitting in a corner blowing up balloons and working on a banner. Larry, Ash and you had been assigned to work on the banner whilst Todd and Sal blew up some balloons. Well, more Todd blowing up the balloons and Sal tying them.

As Ash and you resumed your sides of the banner, she leaned over to you with a smirk.

"You knowww, since im 'cupid' now i could totally shoot both you and Sal" She said, winking a couple times. Your face flushes a little.

A while ago you had confided in Ash about your, very not secret, crush on Sal and she's been trying to get the two of you together ever since, insisting that he liked you back.

"No!" You whisper-yelled in her direction, hoping to not get Sal's attention. You looked over at him quickly to see him struggling to tie the end of the balloon around his finger.

"I really regret telling you i like him."

"And i keep telling you to tell him cause he likes you back!" You quickly try to cover her mouth. Unfortunetly, you werent quick enough and the entire group looked at the two of you. Ash took your hands of her mouth.

"I'm telling you, ask him to go to the dance with you." She smiled at you. You looked awkwardly at her, then to the boys.

"You like soemone?" Todd asked.

"Possibly.." You respond with a quiet tone.

"WHO?" Larry pushed Ash out of his way. Sal didnt seem to want to be part of the conversation. Was he upset? You cleared your throat.

"No one." You said with a smile. It hurt a little to call Sal 'no one' but you had to say it to get Larry off your back.

"Are you still coming to my place for our movie night or are you going to be too busy with your new.. boyfriend" Sal said, a hint of anger, maybe even jealousy, in his tone when he said 'boyfriend'.

"Yeah i am, and I don't have a boyfriend." You say quietly. The two of you remained in silence as Ash eyed the two of you closely.

-

The silence between you and Sal was nearly unbearable. Normally when the two of you would watch movies together, it would be a shitty movie Sal had found and the two of you would laugh and criticize the plot and awful characters.

But now it was silent, with the ambience noise coming from the TV.

"So." Sal starts.

"Once you and this new guy get together, will he join the group?" His tone indicated that he wasnt too fond of the idea. You couldnt help but be flattered that he didnt want other guys that were interested in you join the group.

"Well no." Maybe it was the fact that Ash had finally been starting to convince you or maybe it was cause it was going to be Valentine's Day soon, but you had suddenly thought that hinting to Sal that you like him would be a good idea.

"No?" He sounded almost hopeful as he turned to look at you.

"He's already in the group.." You said silently, your cheeks flushing. You couldnt look at him, it was too embarassing.

"W.. already.. is it Larry?" You look at him suddenly as he asked.

"No? What made you think that?"

"You went really quiet when he was asking about it earlier." You sigh.

"No it's not Larry.." Sal looks at you in silence.

"So.. it's me..?" You look over at him and nod.

"Really?" He asks quietly. You nod again. You could feel your face get hotter and hotter as time went on, the silence from before returning.

"I mean, I was going to ask you to the dance." Sal said, slowly reaching to grab your hand. You smile.

"I'd be happy to go with you, if your offer still stands."

-

You would never forget the giant smile Ash had on her face when the two of you had walked into the gymnasium the night of the dancehand in hand.

Who knows. Maybe if you had listened to Ash a little sooner, you wouldnt have had to be as patient with your feelings as you were.

----

#sally face #sally face fanfiction #sally face fandom #fanfiction #ao3 writer #fanfic #requests open #taking requests #x reader #ao3 fanfic #cupid #valentines day #romance #lovestory #romantic #lovers #cupids bow #valentines #love #mutual pining #matchmaker #sally face x reader #sally fisher #sally face game #sal fisher #sal fisher x y/n #sal fisher x reader #female reader #nonbinary reader #fem reader

[pancake-breakfast]

When I said I wasn't ready for this to end on my last post I didn't intend to then not post until the weekend, but somehow using TriMax to try and soothe my JJK feels didn't seem like a good idea, so here we are.

Stream-of-consciousness thoughts for TriMax Vol. 14, Chapters 4-6 below.

Chapter 4: Never Give Up! Never Surrender!

CW: Blood (in color)

This honestly seems like an odd title given how suicidal our main character is, but let's run with it. Maybe it's referring more to the Earth Fleet.

Vash, asking important questions.

WTF, why is dead Legato just standing there screaming? Like, yes, I get that him standing around screaming in an unsettling fashion is totally in character for him, but... he's dead, yeah? Or... is it Vash screaming? I mean, I feel like screaming is generally the appropriate response to Legato showing up.

What the...? Surprise Wolfwood. He looks in pretty good spirits for a dead man.

Dang, that's a lot of ghosts.

OMG it's REM.

Wait, is he dying? Like, I know he's dying, but is he dying dying??

Oh, he hit a wall between him and them. He must not be quite gone yet. But gods, his hair looks fully black here.

Oh, wait. It has just a bit of lightness in it still.

Vashie looks sooooo tired.

Meanwhile, humanity is trying its very, very best to communicate with the Plants Knives has absorbed.

Ooh, looks like the Plants are forming Opinions.

That's a big boom.

Oooh, critical failure for Earth Fleet.

The good news is Knives and/or the Plants he's merged with just saved all of Humanity on Noman's Land. The bad news is everyone still has to deal with Knives.

Hahahahaha, this kind of spirit is the soul of Trigun. Thanks, girls.

You're right, Meryl. It's absolutely too heavy a burden for him to carry alone. I hope he knows you feel that way. And not just you, but so many others, too. I hope he's at a place where he can accept that.

Wait, what cracked Meryl's helmet?

Eyyy, Vash is conscious again!

Chapter 5: Ticket to the Future

Where's he stuck? Limbo?

Ahhhhh! He heard Meryl's words!

Oop, feather to the face for Vash, too.

I like how he calls himself Vash the Stampede in his head. Not Vash. Vash the Stampede. You have to say the whole thing.

I still don't know what the hell he caught, if anything.

Dang, Knives isn't even gonna bother slaughtering the humans. He's just gonna leave them to rot.

What is that noise, Knives? Is it maybe your sisters? Are they now making their noise un-ignorable?

Were you really united? Did you ever actually check with them? Or did you just assimilate and assume that because the assimilation took, they were in agreeance?

It's not just Vash at this point, though, is it?

Wait, is Vash gonna plug into Knives? Ohhhh, he does not look enthusiastic about this move.

Sooooo much giant Plant underboob.

Oh, Vash is going to plug himself into the connection they've set up to try and talk with the Plants. That's hella dangerous. Has he ever been plugged into anything before? What if he can't maintain his sense of self in there? Though I guess Chronica could when she plugged into Domina... but that was only a fraction of the entity Vash is gonna jump into, and the entity he's gonna jump into includes Knives.

Hahahaha, I feel like Knives telling Vash not to touch him is exactly the fuel Vash needs. Big sibling energy here.

This looks distinctly unpleasant for the both of them.

Everyone's screaming for ice cream here.

Eyyyy, the giant fused entity is dissolving! Presumably into feathers.

Yyyup. Feathers. Weird-shaped feathers.

Wait, is Vash falling?

More screaming, but this time in Japanese.

LOL, it's not tenacity but recklessness. Fair. This is Vash we're talking about.

I feel like I keep saying this, but Knives doesn't look so good.

I keep saying that about Vash, too, but it continues to be true.

All these freaking feathers. I'm STILL blaming CLAMP for this.

Chapter 6: Mind Games

Memories for everyone!

Yeah, Meryl's allowed to panic a bit when she gets inundated with foreign memories again.

But look at her, doing her best to stay focused. She knows Vash is at his limit and she's doing her best to support him.

UGH, HE CAN FEEL HER EMOTIONS!!! HE CAN FEEL THEM!!!! That there's a rare genuine Vash smile. He may not know if it's gonna work, but he's so grateful for her effort and support. He's glad she's here for him right now.

This is a Thing. Everything dissolves when communication ends. When there's no more room for it, whatever the reason may be.

Heh, they call Vash "Red Brother." I approve. I think he'd like that.

Love and Peace, yo.

They're leaving Knives.

I bet in Stampede, if they get this far, everything will dissolve into flowers. That is NOT LESS CLAMP-LIKE.

Ooof, there's just a mess of bulb-less plants lying everywhere now. That seems dangerous for them.

This guy doing what he can to communicate via a feather. I approve.

This scene. I love this scene. I love the tenderness of his touch on the one Plant's head. I love how he changes his words from a statement of fact, a demand and a command, to a desperate request. I love her smiling peacefully through her tears.

Vash is up and on his feet!

WHAT IS THIS?!?! WHAT IS THIS PROMISE THAT HE'S NEVER MADE BEFORE?!?! WHAT IS THIS WILL TO LIVE AND TO COME BACK AND TO SPEND TIME WITH SOMEONE HE CARES ABOUT INSTEAD OF RUNNING AND RUNNING AND HIDING AND ISOLATING??!?! WHAT. IS. THIS?!!?!?!?

After watching Stampede, I read somewhere that someone was saying how those who were familiar with the series were gonna have fun explaining to Stampede-onlies how Knives getting destroyed in July is just him being dramatic. Looking at him missing HUGE CHUNKS of his body and yet still somehow maintaining his basic shape, I can't help but think he's being dramatic again.

"My head's killing me." You don't say? Maybe it's because HALF OF IT IS MISSING?? What a freaking dork.

I... honestly don't know if what Vash is aiming for here is something that can be defined as "freedom."

Howwww can there only be two chapters left??? [insert panicked hyperventilating]

Chapter Archive

Trigun Vol. 1: Covers + 1-3, 4, 5-6, 7-8, 9-10 || Vol. 2: Covers + Extras, 1, 2-4, 5-6, 7-8

TriMax Vol. 1: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 || Vol. 2: Covers + 1, 2-4, 5, 6-7 || Vol. 3: Covers + 1-3, 4-5, 6-7 || Vol. 4: Covers + 1-2, 3-5, 6-7 || Vol. 5: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 || Vol. 6: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6

Archive Intermission for Formatting Reasons!

Vol. 7: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 || Vol. 8: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5 + Bonus || Vol. 9: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 || Vol. 10: Covers + 1-3, 4-5, 6-8 || Vol. 11: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 || Vol. 12: Covers + 1-3, 4-6, 7-9 || Vol. 13: Covers + 1-3, 4-6, 7-9 || Vol. 14: Covers + 1-3

Extra Credit Archive

Trigun Vol. 1: Nebraska vs. Vash's Motivations, Vash's Loneliness, Vash's Depression (pt. 2 of post), Soupy Brains || Vol. 2: Coin Factoids || TriMax Vol. 1: Lina, Vash, and a Haircut || Meryl, Vash, and the Pursuit of Happiness || Vol. 5: Knives, Vash, and Hatred for Humanity || Vol. 6: Coping Series: Wolfwood, Meryl, Vash || Vol. 8: The Uncoordinated Counterattack || Vol. 9: Justice, Punishment, and Mercy, The Tolling of an Iron Bell || Vol. 10: Crucifixion Symbology (pt. 2 of post), Merging of Families, Being Childlike (And Why God Hates Chapel) || Vol. 11: New Hair, New Outlook

#trigunbookclub #trigun maximum #volume 14 #pancake thoughts

[dreamhusbandsdarling]

okay, so here's a small part of an unfinished work of arthur x eames fanfic which i probably won't be able to finish it ever, but would love to share it:

Post inception. Eames hadn't seen the team for quite a while, though he still thought about them from time to time. The moments they shared while prepping for inception were one of few happiest memories he had, and even though there were conflicts and endangerment in the process, the results ended up to be pretty satisfying. He considered that as the best mission he had ever been a part of. It was only the most common that people in this line of business are usually tied up together for a few months and go off different paths to never see each other again for a few years, not especially after Dom decided to limit the amount of criminal activities he participates in after getting back to his children. You don't see an extractor as good as him nowadays, therefore it was refreshing to see an invitation to perform another inception from an extractor newbie. He said yes to it anyway, only because someone that he goes back a long way with was in the team. "Arthur. " On the first gathering of the new team, he approached a familiar face with two glasses of wine in his hands. "Ah, I see you decided to take on the job offer. " Arthur got a hold on one of the glasses, "Thanks. " "They'd need someone who's got experience in their team for this job to work out, don't they? " Eames swallowed up the entire glass of wine in one shot. "How were things after parting ways with Dom? " "Well, let's just say that I had a long and relaxing holiday and here I am, back in the business with independent choice of job selection and a better person. " Arthur smirked and took a small sip from the glass. "You're just talking shit. " Eames couldn't help but smile, "Aside everything, I'm very happy to be working with you again. " Arthur looked flustered, his eyes flickering with unspoken emotion: "Me too. Always. " An awkward moment of silence settled between them for a while, their gaze wandering into the decorations in the room - tracing every detail of it as if they cared. Eames could hear his heart beating fast; he certainly didn't hope that Arthur could hear it too. The alcohol is starting to kick in - which ultimately meant that he definitely wouldn't be thinking about what he says in the next few minutes: "What do you think of me, Arthur? " "What? " Arthur looked confused, refilling his glass for more wine. "What do I think of you? " "Uh-hmm. " Eames was still not looking at Arthur directly into the eyes. "Dangerous, certainly. " Arthur made some weird noises from his throat, "You often act before you think, bolder than anyone else in the room, ironically the most clueless one. You pick up fights that you weren't supposed to win, and even if you did win them, you'd end up wounded and hurt. But you didn't seem to care. " "Fair enough. " Eames nodded, hands nervously touching the back of his neck. "Anything else? " "Tainted. I mean, we all are, doing these jobs. You probably weren't the most innocent one in the room. " Arthur thought about it for a while, "Sorry, that was kinda a heavy word. " "It's fine, I totally agree with it. " Eames finished another glass of wine in one shot. "... and flawed. You have a peculiar taste in music, you know that, right? And you don't sing well either, as much as you'd like to. " Arthur laughed. "That's so kind of you," Eames shook his head in disbelief, "I can't believe you'd criticize my singing when everything you just said likely came from a song." "Most probably, I just have it in mind. " Arthur shrugged. "How about me? What do you think of me? " "You? " Eames raised his eyebrows, "After all the nice things you've said about me? " Arthur smiled unapologetically. "Fire away, darling. " Eames scoffed while rolling his eyes. Arthur waited for a while, impatiently, and after reaching out for another drink, he heard a soft and fainted voice coming from beside him: "Beautiful. "

He turned his head, surprised, thinking that he must've heard him wrong. But there was Eames, mouthing "beautiful" once again carefully and seriously, like honey dripping from his tongue, staring at him so intensely to the point where Arthur couldn't hold his head up to meet his gaze. Amidst the chaotic atmosphere surrounding them, they sunk into a long moment of thoughtful silence as if there was only the two of them in sight. --- "Liam's a dickhead. " Eames murmured resentfully, but Arthur heard him anyway. "He doesn't even have an ounce of idea about what he's doing. Doesn't take any advice either - the idea's not gonna stick. He's way too greedy for this inception to work. " Arthur looked at him quietly, the best he could do was to stay beside him. "It's too late to turn back now. All we need to do is to keep ourselves alive, that's our priority. I wouldn't want to go to Limbo. " "Alive we'll be, alright, " Eames frowned, "Point is, will we be alive when we get back to reality? The CEO definitely has figured that we drugged him by now. We'd be inmates in jail before we knew it. " "Hey, hey, Eames, look at me. " Arthur stepped forward and stood in front of Eames, palms placing on his chest to stop him from moving back and forth anxiously. "You're alright. We're alright, and you know that. If this doesn't work out - we'll leave the scene before he ever wakes up. It's gonna be okay, trust me. " Eames' rapid breathing eased slightly at the sight of Arthur's face, as if he has found solace. He shook his head, trying to get his thoughts out. "You're right. Sorry. " "After all of this is finished, I'll take you to my favourite place. In my hometown, there's an enormous field of endless sunflowers stretching towards the horizon, disappearing as the sky meets the ground and form a line. You'd love it. We'll stay there however long as you wish, long until we'd have forgotten about everything. " Arthur smiled, his voice as soothing as possible. Eames nodded hard, the only thought in his mind right now was how pretty Arthur's eyes were. They were twinkling as if filled with stars. "Yes, I think we should. "

#arthur x eames #inception fanfic #inception #i totally didn't quote lana's song there

[heavencasteel420]

WIP Wednesday

Featuring: Robin vs. bra shopping and Jonathan vs. the machine (a scary elevator).

From Tomorrow’s a Long Way Off (brief references to sexual harassment and heteronormativity):

It was amazing, Robin thought, as she watched her mom put the towels into a cabinet, how the smallest comment could get her blood boiling. She knew her mom liked Gail for having interests other than boys and clothes; those were some of the reasons she liked hanging out with Gail. Yet Robin could hear words behind the words. She’s a smart girl, not like you. Not like Molly. You should spend more time with Gail and less with Molly, so you can be a little less stupid.

“Molly’s smart, too,” she protested.

It was true, if you didn’t count the business with Steve. Molly was great at math. Her mom just rolled her eyes.

“I never said she wasn’t.” Then she looked critically at Robin’s shirt. “You need a new bra. Since Gail canceled, we should go to Penney’s and get one.”

Robin crossed her arms over her chest and felt blood rush to her face. She’d had the bra she was wearing since eighth grade, and it was one of the only ones that didn’t scratch or dig into her skin. She hadn’t realized that it wasn’t doing its job anymore, but everyone else must have.

“Didn’t you burn bras?” she asked. If she was nasty, her mom wouldn’t notice that she was upset.

“I did,” her mom said drily, “but you take after the women on your dad’s side. I also don’t think you understand symbolism.”

“Well, I’m sorry my breasts aren’t feminist enough!”

Her mother just squinted at her.

“Robin Elizabeth, you are not making any sense. What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing.”

Her tears were falling fast, though. She didn’t want to go bra shopping with her mom, who would pick on her for hours before making her agree to an itchy, ugly bra that she liked. She didn’t want to be looked at by gross old men or seniors who treated her like a joke. She didn’t want to be looked at by any man. What she wanted was a girl to look at her like she made the sun rise, but it felt like that would never happen.

“Are you getting your period?” her mother asked, in a slightly softer tone. “I have some Midol if you need it.”

“No!” Robin exploded. “I’m just apparently an idiot who’s been walking around with my tits out all summer! No wonder everyone’s been staring at me!”

Her mom stared at her. Robin waited to get scolded for being crude or overdramatic, but instead her mom did something totally shocking: she burst into laughter.

“It’s really not that bad,” she finally said, once she’d caught her breath. “You’re not going to shock anyone who’s seen Three’s Company.”

From Tonight, Tonight (brief ableism, vague references to Jonathan’s life in Hawkins being rough):

“Well, I hope the traffic back up isn’t bad,” Kevin said. He opened a door at the end of the hallway, leading to a smaller room with an elevator. It wasn’t like the ones in apartment buildings or malls, with buttons pressed by the passenger; instead, it was controlled by someone in a room with close-circuit TVs, somewhere in the labyrinth of Pennhurst. “Debra’s family’s just over the Roane County line. She’s one of the McCorkles. You probably know them if you’re from Hawkins.”

“Mm-hm.” The McCorkles were one of the old farming families in Hawkins. “I had geometry and English 9 with Lisa-Anne, I think.”

“Oh? I’ll make sure to say hey.”

Jonathan thought of Lisa-Anne—serene, ladylike, way into 4-H—and suppressed a tired grin at the thought of being remembered to her. He was so sure she’d want to hear from the basket-case son of crazy Joyce Byers. Still, it had been a nice thing to say.

“Thanks,” he said. “I remember those little purple tomatoes she grew for the county fair last year.”

He’d ducked into the agricultural tent while Will and his friends rode the Tilt-a-Whirl for the second time. He’d gone up with them for the first round, despite his distaste for being tilted or whirled, because Will had still been little enough to be wary of the creaky machinery. Maybe he’d been right. The whole town had been creaky, full of rusted parts and sharp edges. Jonathan should have known that from his own experience: Clint Morris’s granite fists, Robbie Hagan’s slow white smile, the free-and-reduced lunches that seemed to get smaller every year.

#I JUST got him through security #okay not exactly #I started the Joyce part but had to rewrite because it’s set in a different room now #Kevin is the nice guard and he’s dating a McCorkle #the McCorkles reliably producing dainty girls with green thumbs is also a motif now #as are tomatoes #jonathan byers #robin buckley #tomorrow’s a long way off #tonight tonight the highway's bright #(oh and that elevator is based on a real elevator I have been in) #(I’m not claustrophobic but jfc)

[ambitionsource]

AMBITION “Reassessment” [ 4.09 ]♮PART 2, half 2

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - ROSARIO’S OFFICE - DAY

Zay’s turn in the hot seat across from Gao, there for his check-in the next morning. He’s not as reserved as Vanessa, holding Gao’s stare from the get-go, but he’s not necessarily at his most charming. Given their history, and the week he’s been having, he doesn’t have it in him to kiss ass.

Thankfully, Gao isn’t looking for him to. She’s not the type to bend to flattery, and the two of them have already had enough challenging back and forth to know it’s not worth wasting time with niceties. In some ways, being able to cut to the chase without delicacy is refreshing for both.

So waste time, Gao does not.

Rosario: I assume you’re going to tell me that you’re doing fine. Zay: Should I be saying anything else? I’m sure your gradebook concurs. Rosario: It does. Despite your unprofessional showing at auditions last year, you’ve made good on your promise to prove your capability. There is no doubt you have the proficiency. Zay: And otherwise? Rosario: Your audition will surely speak for itself. Better than last year’s, at least.

Not that that’s hard. Well, if that’s all there is to say… but Zay doesn’t move. He doesn’t, because based on her tone, he can sense there’s more.

Zay: But? Rosario: Are you assuming there should be a but in this conversation? Zay: I have no idea what it could be, but considering you haven’t already dismissed me to stop wasting your precious time, I’m leaning yes. Rosario: Cheek once again unnecessary, but fair enough. You certainly know how to read an audience.

Yes, there is a caveat. Zay’s abilities are on full display, so he has no shortage of talent. His personality is more than on display, sometimes a bit too openly. He consistently ranks high amongst his peers, and he’s had no trouble batting back competition in the standings all year long. Some might say had he been able to audition last year, really audition, they wouldn’t even be sitting here having this conversation. There’d be no transfer to try for.

There’s just one blemish marring his record in Gao’s critical eye.

Rosario: I’m not convinced this is what you want.

You could hear a pin drop. Of all the things Zay was predicting she would say, that little bombshell never occurred to him. He’s so stunned, for a second all he can do is gape at her, mouth hanging open slightly.

Zay: What? Rosario: I do believe you heard me the first time.

Zay shakes his head slightly. She cannot be serious.

Zay: I don’t know what gave you that bright idea, but it’s completely unhinged. Rosario: There’s that personality again… Zay: I want to dance. Dance is what I was born to do. Rosario: I didn’t say it wasn’t. Zay: You just said -- Rosario: I said I’m not convinced you want this. A spot at Turner Academy. You are clearly passionate about dance, Mister Babineaux, I hold no illusions about that. I would be remiss to suggest otherwise. I believe your drive for the art is genuine. But that doesn’t mean you want to be a part of Turner Academy.

He sputters, at a loss for words. Rosario remains totally calm, treating him with the same even-handed demeanor as she did Vanessa.

Zay: I have no clue where you could’ve possibly gotten the impression that I don’t want -- Rosario: Your academics have remained subpar since you enrolled at NYCA. I’ve seen no indication you intend to change that. Zay: [ with a scoff ] You been talking to some of my classmates? Rosario: You’re passing, but just barely. Bare minimum effort isn’t the kind of trait we like to see in Turner students. Zay: I have a learning disability. Sue me. Rosario: A learning disability is a valid challenge. It doesn’t excuse a lack of commitment. Zay: I’m here to dance. Not do biochemistry. Rosario: But this is a dance academy, Mister Babineaux. It’s not just about the dance. It’s an academic institution, and well-rounded focus is part of the package. Zay: Okay, well, if that’s your only reason -- Rosario: I also noticed you’ve been making quite a few rounds on the audition circuit. Zay, baffled: What, do you have a tracker on us or something? Did you tap my phone? Rosario: [ with an eye roll at his theatrics ] Believe it or not, I have a life outside of these walls. I have friends in the business, and this town is smaller than you think.

So yes, she’s heard his name in regards to auditions around town. In all honesty, she admires his initiative. He clearly has ambition.

Zay: So I’m being penalized for that? Rosario: No. I’m simply pointing out that for most of your peers, this is the opportunity they’re giving their undivided attention. I’m not saying either way is correct. Zay: I could be off doing callbacks right now, or blowing this off entirely, yet I’m sitting here having this insane conversation with you. Rosario: But it’s only you, Mister Babineaux, who seems to think he’d rather put his eggs in another basket. I doubt it’s because of a lack of confidence. So you tell me -- if all goes well, and perhaps you’re offered more than one great opportunity, which direction are you going in? Is Turner truly your top choice?

And if it isn’t, then is it really in their best interest to give him a spot? When there’s others giving everything they have to get in here?

It’s a fair question -- one that Zay isn’t equipped to grapple with right now. He’s had this plan, this path for how to break in, laid down in his brain since junior year. It was the sensible route, the right way to do it, so he gave it everything he had. Even when obstacles fell in his way, he found a way around them. He persevered. He did everything right, followed expectations.

And it’s still not good enough. He does what is expected of him and takes the traditional route to his dream, and apparently he doesn’t want it badly enough.

No matter what he does, Zay cannot fucking win. He grits his teeth.

Zay: I don’t know. I guess when you offer me a spot, we’ll find out.

Rosario matches his glare, not batting an eye.

Rosario: Yes. If you’re offered a spot, I suppose we will.

Peachy. Zay gets to his feet and makes his exit, frustration bubbling just under the surface. As he pushes through the door and into the corridor, an energetic engine of a backing beat kicks up --

INT. USC - FILM SCHOOL - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Potential Breakup Song” as performed by Aly & AJ || Performed by Farkle Minkus & Zay Babineaux

While the opening musical riff wraps up, we find Farkle standing in the lobby of the film school. He’s glaring at a portrait of Jordan on display, being showcased for some class accolade or another. The shining pinnacle of directorial genius.

A genius who can’t remember one stupid date. Bursting with indignation, Farkle launches into the song first, taking the starting verse. The most famous lyric is pointedly apt, though of course, Farkle is biting out the expletive version.

Except for the fact it was my birthday My fucking birthday!

He pushes out the door backwards, falling into the light --

EXT. USC - FILM SCHOOL - DAY

And into the courtyard, where he slides through the remainder of the first verse. His doubts are becoming difficult to ignore now, slipping out in song.

But obviously my armor was cracked What kind of a boyfriend would forget that?

INT. TURNER ACADEMY - FACULTY HALL - DAY

Zay picks up the pre-chorus, sharing the same indignant energy as he bounds through the halls of the school he’s been playing so hard to get. Not quite the same as a romantic relationship, but in some ways the game feels the same -- and Zay is growing sick of playing it. They don’t think he wants this -- that he’s meant for it?

Well, they better be careful. Because they might just lose him.

The type of guy who doesn't see what he has until she leaves Don't let me go

Zay finishes the pre-chorus and bursts out of the building.

EXT. NYCA - CAMPUS - DAY

And explodes into the chorus as he takes off down the steps of the Turner building, breaking into a sprint across campus.

EXT. USC - CAMPUS - DAY

At the same time, Farkle does the same at USC, the chorus intercutting between them. The shared energy is electric, kinetic, full of pent-up aggression and dissatisfaction.

Onto the second verse…

INT. THEATER - DAY

While Farkle continues to dramatically tear up his school turf, Zay changes his objective. He barrels headfirst into taking those callbacks, almost as much a “fuck you” to the insinuation that thinks he shouldn’t as an instinct of his own ambition he’s been fighting all week long.

As the number continues, the song acts as a fill-in for Zay’s auditions, seamlessly interweaving all his stops into a montage split with Farkle’s melodrama in L.A.

EXT. USC - CAMPUS - DAY

When the guitar solo hits at the bridge, we see both angles full force, as it becomes a dance break for each. While Zay absolutely slays his choreography with the skill we know he possesses, Farkle leans more interpretive and untamed -- almost like a little mini-mosh pit all to himself in the center of Trousdale walkway. His freak flag flying without restraint, no longer able to be chained up under the guise of placating the boyfriend who can’t seem to do even one ounce of the same for him.

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Then we’re rolling through the final chorus at full volume, Zay taking to the streets again and racing off to the next thing. He does jumps and spins as he goes, like he just can’t contain himself, as Farkle does his equivalent of the same all through Ronald Tutor Campus Center -- walking on top of tables, leaning back against hand rails, the whole nine yards (almost a spiritual throwback to “brutal”).

As the song draws to a close, Zay makes his way into his final audition…

INT. THEATER - DAY

Which is where he ends, sticking the landing on his final step and staring out of breath into the stage lights. Clearly having put his all into the callback, since he can’t seem to properly put his emotions anywhere else.

EXT. USC - CAMPUS STORE - DAY

Farkle is equally out of breath when he makes it to the top of the steps outside the bookstore, running right into Jordan. He simply stares at him for a long moment, all of the anger he just sang about sitting on the tip of his tongue.

INT. THEATER - DAY

The disembodied voices of judgment thank Zay through the dark.

Casting Director: Thanks so much, Isaiah. We’ll be in touch.

EXT. USC - CAMPUS STORE - DAY

Jordan raises his eyebrow.

Jordan: Minkus? [ amused ] You got something to say?

Oh does he… but it doesn’t come out. Not now. Somehow, confrontation is harder in reality than the musical landscape in our imaginations. Instead, Farkle recedes, stepping down a step or two and apologizing for getting in his way. Jordan gives him a pat on the arm as he passes, not at all attuned to his odd demeanor and flushed cheeks.

Jordan: I’ll be in the editing bay late tonight. I’ll call you. Maybe -- we’ll see if I have time.

Farkle doesn’t answer, letting him walk away. The weight of his discontent on his shoulders, growing too heavy to ignore… but his blind optimism that things will work out still hanging by the thinnest of threads.

EXT. LOS ANGELES STREETS - DAY

Josh is on the phone on his way back from lunch, managing to catch Riley while she’s getting ready at call time. He wanted to wish her luck for opening night and tell her a thousand times how he wishes he could be there to see it.

That, and he was also hoping for a quick bit of advice. He’s relayed the whole Floyd situation to her, wondering if she can chime in considering she’s closer in age to his client.

INT. NYU - DRESSING ROOM - DAY

After hearing Justin’s genius guidance on it that Josh is planning on right now, she does not look swayed in his favor.

Riley: Sorry, Josh, but that kind of sounds like the worst advice I’ve ever heard.

Well, that’s not what you want to hear, is it? Riley quickly follows up to explain that she doesn’t doubt Justin has some experience here, and he’s obviously at his rank in the industry for a reason. But from a personal perspective, this sounds like an absolutely terrible way to go about it.

Riley: I totally get not wanting to be the bearer of bad news. Josh: Yeah. Yeah, and this guy has stuck with me even in the rut. I don’t want to let him down. Riley: But that’s kind of exactly my thinking. You have a relationship with Floyd. He trusts you. Your entire dynamic is built on trust and mutual support. What kind of message does it send if you’re constantly bait-and-switching your own clients? Do you not respect them enough to think they can handle the truth? Josh: No. No, of course not. Riley: That’s just what it sounds like to me, based on Justin’s approach. If I ever found out you were gaming me like that, as a client, I think I’d be way more upset about that than whatever constructive criticism I didn’t want to hear at the time. It just sounds… manipulative, to me, if not kind of cruel.

All things Josh definitely doesn’t want to be. He would never want to make clients feel like that. It’s the antithesis of what he wants to be as a collaborator. But if not that, then what is he supposed to do?

Riley: I just feel like your whole job here is about trust. If you can’t communicate, if you can’t come together and confront the hard things when they really need to be confronted, then what does that say about the relationship? That says more to me than anything you might say in the easy times. I know I’m a “communication matters” bitch through and through, but this just seems textbook to me.

If they can’t communicate, it’s not going to work. No matter what kind of dynamic it is, and no matter how much they like one another. Josh sighs, knowing she’s right.

Josh: How is it you ended up being the wise one? I’m supposed to be the mentor.

Riley laughs, rolling her eyes. Then she grows serious, sincere in her encouragement.

Riley: I have no doubt you can find the right way to tell him the truth. You’re thoughtful, Josh, and very compassionate. There’s a reason grandpa Alan was always a little nervy about how much time you spent playing doll house with me. He didn’t get the elaborate psychoanalytical narratives we were exploring in there.

That manages to earn a laugh out of Josh, breaking some of the tension. Riley smiles at hearing it.

Riley: You have a good heart. Don’t forget about it. And don’t just try to get the trust of your clients -- trust yourself, too. 

With that, she’s gotta go. She wishes Josh luck and he thanks her, once again telling her to break a leg and knock ‘em dead out there.

INT. ACADEMY MUSEUM - DAY

Speaking of people who can’t communicate… Louis and Isa are officially at the museum, dutifully doing his homework assignment as promised. It’s not going as smoothly as it could, though, given Isa’s recent stint in the tabloids on their own. People keep double-taking when they pass by, despite Isa’s best efforts to be inconspicuous. A whisper or giggle usually follows them from room to room.

Attention that is most definitely not aiding their cred with Louis. He grows more irritable by the minute, and Isa’s admirable but poor attempts at breaking the ice only grind his gears more.

Given the conversation doesn’t seem to be getting them anywhere, Isa backs off and gives Louis some space, going to another exhibit at the opposite wall. Once he’s alone, Louis tries to focus on his assignment… but he overhears a couple of teenage girls gossiping, eyeing Isa across the room.

Girl 1: OMG, did you see the pic of her though? Looked straight up deranged. Girl 2: I have no idea why Z.D. Roman would want to bring that into their family, lol. Girl 1: Gotta wonder how lame his kids are if he’s that desperate for something different. Like, please.

That’s it. He’s had enough. Louis crumbles his worksheet and storms out of the room.

Isa reads something interesting and turns to look for him, thinking it might be a good conversation primer… but they don’t see him. They scan the rest of the room -- no dice.

Louis is gone. They actually lost their fucking half-brother.

Isa: No. No, no, no --

They start to jog through the room and look for him, a security guard plainly yelling after them that there’s no running in the museum.

EXT. ACADEMY MUSEUM - DAY

Isa doesn’t give a shit about those rules. Right now, they’re in panic mode. As if they haven’t messed everything up enough already, now they’re going to seriously let Louis go missing? How do you lose a whole ass twelve year old?!

Thankfully, in a small miracle, he isn’t hard to recover. Isa sprints out of the museum just as Louis starts marching down the steps outside, shouting after him. He stops, but doesn’t turn around, clenching his fists.

Isa: Are you out of your fucking mind? You cannot just leave like that! You scared the shit out of me! Louis: Sorry. Actually, wait, no I’m not.

Isa groans, running a hand through their hair.

Isa: Dude, what is your problem? Why are you in such a mood all the time? Louis: You! You are my problem! Isa: Okay, melodrama, you can dial it back a bit. If you think you’re going to impress me, you have a long way to go. I went to Adams Academy, your diva game isn’t even close. Louis: I don’t know what that means! No one does!

And he doesn’t want to know. He didn’t ask for a new sibling, and he doesn’t want to know anything about them. So they should just leave him alone. They’ve already done enough, like almost get him knocked to the ground outside church. Or hog their dad. Isa tries, one more time, to be empathetic despite their frustration.

Isa: Look, I get it, dude, okay? I don’t like change either. Like seriously, I hate it. But I didn’t ask for this either. I didn’t get to choose my parents, or how upside-down my family tree is. But I’m here now, and I’m trying to make this work. I’m trying to be part of your family, so could you just --

Louis snarls, whipping around. When he locks eyes with Isa, his adolescent glare could maim.

Louis: Well, stop! Stop trying! It’s never gonna work. Don’t you get that? Isa: I -- Louis: You are never gonna fit in. You are never gonna be part of my family. And good, because I don’t want you! No one does! The only reason mom and dad even let you in is because they feel bad for you. If dad wasn’t careless when he was a teen, do you think anybody here would care about you? No! So just go away.

Damn… there’s a unique, unfiltered way with words twelve year olds possess that is just like a knife to the gut. It’s unrefined and messy, and totally borne out of overwhelming emotion he doesn’t know how to process, but Louis’s words strike Isa too deep anyway. Even though they know it’s not the truth -- even though they know exactly the kind of hurt Louis is speaking from.

Louis storms down the steps and keeps walking, leaving Isa dumbstruck and silent outside the museum.

INT. GARDNER HOME - KITCHEN - DAY

In the realm of less volatile younger siblings, Rosie is in the kitchen, munching on trail mix and texting Uri at the counter. She tenses up and quickly hides her phone when she hears footsteps incoming, but relaxes when it’s just Charlie who walks through the doorway.

He knows the telltale signs of her secrecy though -- been there, done that -- so her nonchalance doesn’t fool him. He gives her a grin and assures her it’s only him, tossing her a wink as he opens the fridge to retrieve his water bottle.

Charlie: You don’t have to put the Jewish heart back under the floorboards just yet. Rosie: Ugh, shut up. And what does that even mean? Charlie: Tell-Tale Heart? Edgar Allen Poe? The guy who is so guilty he hears the heartbeat under the floorboards -- Rosie: Oh, of course it’s some lit nerd thing. You are so annoying. Will Europe take you back already, or did they ban you for being too boring? Charlie: Don’t worry, you know your secrets are safe with me. Don’t have to answer to anyone but yourself. [ a beat ] And God. [ another beat, then imitating a heartbeat ] Tha-thump. Tha-thump --

He hops slightly closer to her on each beat. Rosie rolls her eyes and groans loudly, shoving him away from her. He merely smiles, taking a drink from his water. Hey, he can only joke about it because he’s been there!

Rosie: You were more bearable when we had secrets. We should go back to that.

It’s just the teenage angst talking, and she’s mostly kidding, which Charlie knows. But speaking of teenage angst… Charlie takes the chance to ask about the church aversion, why she’s suddenly decided she doesn’t want to go. Not that he’s judging, but it’s clearly causing some friction. He just wanted to see what she was thinking about it all.

Rosie: Ugh, it’s literally not even that big a deal. I don’t get why it has to be a big thing. Charlie: I’m not saying I disagree. I think church is more meaningful if you actually want to be there. But you know it’s a big deal to mom and dad. Rosie: Yeah, but… like, ugh. It’s just like -- it’s not even about church. That’s not the problem. It’s just that I have like… other stuff going on. That I want to be doing. But it’s like if I even mention not wanting to go, no matter what the reason, it’s an automatic atomic bomb for mom.

Charlie gets where she’s coming from. Especially at this age, when it feels like there’s so many things they can and should be doing, that they’ll miss out on if they’re not there. Especially when you’ve got heathen friends, to which Sunday is just another free day.

Rosie: It’s like, we are the only family who takes this so seriously. Charlie: Well, guarantee that’s not true, but -- Rosie: Like, Uri’s family is religious, but they don’t go to synagogue every week. I actually don’t know the last time Uri went. Charlie: Okay, please tell me you realize all of what you just said is really not going to help your case in a theoretical argument with mom.

Rosie huffs, crossing her arms. But touché. Charlie thinks on it for a moment, trying to see both sides and find a compromise. He acknowledges that Rosie’s wish for more freedom is completely valid, and he doesn’t think it’s an impossible ask. But with so much friction around it right now, it probably has both of them on defensive just waiting for a trigger to blow up.

Rosie: Um, mom is always on defensive with me. In case you didn’t notice. Charlie: Yeah, thanks for proving my point. And I think you know that, which means you go into every conversation ready for battle. Am I wrong?

No… Rosie concedes that.

Charlie: Yeah. Exactly. So I’m not saying this is fair, but I think if you want better chances, you just need to pick your battles. Be a little more strategic about it. Mom can be… sensitive, so it’s just about playing your cards right. Rosie: I don’t think having a relationship with your mom should be like playing poker.

In an ideal world, no, but this is being a Gardner.

INT. GARDNER HOME - ENTRYWAY - DAY

Speak of the devil, Eleanor comes down the stairs and heads towards the kitchen, but she stops in the entryway when she overhears Charlie and Rosie talking. She pauses and decides to listen for a moment instead, particularly when she hears they’re talking about her and church.

Charlie: Maybe one day it won’t be. But I’m just saying, meet her in the middle. I know it doesn’t always seem like it, because she’s intense about stuff, but I think mom has more room for empathy than you might think. Rosie: Sure, you would say that. Because she always gives it to you. Charlie: I like to hope so, yeah. I have to believe that. She’s our mom, and she cares about us. She just wants you there because it’s important to her, all of us being together like that. And it’s a way for her to look out for you. No better safe space than God’s company, right?

There’s a hint of irony in Charlie’s comment, shared between siblings, but it doesn’t register to Eleanor. What she does catch is Charlie’s emphatic defense of her -- and his best efforts to get Rosie back on track and keep their family unit strong.

Charlie: Just come this weekend. Let it be. And then maybe next time, when you want to change plans, mom will meet you in the middle too. Just give each other a bit more grace.

Rosie sighs, but relents, claiming she’ll think about it. That’s more than she’s given Eleanor in the last few weeks, so Charlie being home is already doing wonders.

But that’s not what lingers with Eleanor in the moment. What’s causing the emotion in her chest is the sense that Charlie really didn’t become some totally different person when he left the nest, so far apart from the boy she loves. He’s still there -- and he’s proven time and again that she truly raised him right.

A gentle smile creeps onto her lips.

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - RECORDING STUDIO - DAY

Josh is waiting for his last meeting of the day, and it’s the one he’s dreading most. He bounces his leg anxiously and compulsively checks his watch on his wrist, not sure whether he wants time to speed up or slow down.

It’s irrelevant, as Floyd arrives right on time. He’s brimming with enthusiasm as always as he steps into the studio, greeting Josh and immediately jumping into work. Did Josh get the chance to do a mix on the “Feeling Good” demo? Did he like any of his ideas?

Floyd: I admit, the whole tuba crescendo might have been a bit much, but if we’re looking to make it stand out -- Josh: I did want to talk about the demo, actually. How about you take a seat?

Floyd happily complies, plopping down onto the couch and giving Josh his undivided attention. Those big, blue sad cow eyes are staring right at him, waiting for him to blow his mind. Full of trust; full of excitement. Josh can see what Justin sees when he tells clients exactly what they want to hear -- he can see the path of least resistance, at least for him.

But he can’t do it. If he’s got different voices vying for dominance in his mind, this time, it’s Riley’s that rings true. So instead of empty words, Josh takes a deep breath and delivers all he’s really got.

The truth.

Josh: I don’t think we should use this track as your debut. Floyd: Oh. [ absorbing that ] Oh… why not?

There’s no great way to say you sound like a dying cat, is there? Josh searches for the diplomatic approach.

Josh: It’s… not your best. Floyd: You said it had charm. You said you liked it.  Josh: And I did! I do. One of the reasons I like it is because of how much you like it, and translating that passion is half the battle. You’ve got no shortage of enthusiasm, man, that’s for sure. And I swear that will only help you in the long run. [ a beat ] But I don’t think this plays to your strengths. I love the enthusiasm, but that’s not necessarily what the world out there is going to hear. They don’t know you, the way I do, so they might not get that.

Floyd frowns, but doesn’t speak. Even so, his disappointment is palpable. Josh feels the need to fill the silence, wishing there was a way he could ease the blow.

Josh: I just think that with your debut, your introduction to the world, everyone should get to sense the absolute best of you. Something that sings past your vocals and highlights that charm; your quirkiness. Your enthusiasm. Like “Very Best Day,” just… not that either. Floyd: So you don’t think the cover is good. Josh: That’s not what I’m saying. And I’m not ruling it out in the future -- you have fun with it, and it’s a classic. But that’s exactly it -- it’s a classic, so it’s not you. When we introduce Ernest Floyd to the world, I don’t want there to be any confusion as to all the things that make you worth supporting.

And no, unfortunately, a poorly sung but soulful rendition of “Feeling Good” doesn’t convey any of that. Josh wants him to feel empowered, but he’s also supposed to be guiding him to success, and so that’s his honest opinion.

Floyd: … sure. Sure, okay. Josh: We’re gonna find the right one. I really do believe it. Floyd: Yeah. Yeah, all right. I’ll think about it.

But with that, guess their meeting is just about done. Floyd blankly gets to his feet, heading out almost as soon as he came in. Josh does his best to hide his own disappointment, hating this feeling. Being the bad guy; being the buzz kill. Maybe Justin was right.

Before he leaves, Floyd stops by the door.

Floyd: Thanks. Josh: For what? [ dryly ] Crushing your dreams? Floyd: For telling me the truth. I know it probably would’ve been easier to just let me do whatever -- I know I’m not exactly your star client. You don’t have to spend that much time thinking about my best move. Josh: Well… I wouldn’t say… Floyd: But you do. Think about it. And the fact that you told me this, even if it sucks to hear… [ with a shrug ] Feels like you’re taking it seriously. Taking me seriously. It’s nice to know that I can trust you. That you’ve got my back.

Like a producer is supposed to do. Yeah. Floyd manages a smile in spite of the bummer, steeling his resolve and promising Josh he’ll come up with something even better. He’s right, they’ll land on the one. He believes it.

Josh returns the smile, relieved.

INT. TRENDY RESTAURANT - NIGHT

That same evening, Justin and Melissa have taken up residence at their usual table in a trendy restaurant east of Hollywood. They’re debating what to order this time while they wait for their company to join them, playfully arguing over whether pineapple on pizza is a crime or not.

It doesn’t take long for their guest to arrive. Once the maitre d points her in their direction, Maya eagerly buzzes her way over to their table. They all exchange bright greetings, the duo inviting her to settle into the seat across the table from them. They catch her up on their current order debacle, as they can’t seem to decide what to get but have argued their way out of any interest in pizza.

Maya hardly cares about the food. She’s more than ready to dive into the music. Now that her role in the production of “Haute Stuff” is mostly done, it’s time for the next big thing -- which is to say, her EP. And as she’s been mentioning, she has a lot of ideas for what could go on it.

Maya: I don’t know if you’ve had the chance to listen to the demos I shared yet, but I’ve basically already laid out the perfect arrangement. Or at least, some concepts. Obviously the hits are a need-to-include -- though I don’t think “Haute Stuff” necessarily needs a slot, if we’re looking to showcase my range. And not to say that I’d prefer for this to be a self-written EP, but it’s not something I wouldn’t like.

Melissa and Justin exchange a look, tacitly deciding how to proceed. Maya is clearly jazzed, and totally on a roll, so she doesn’t even notice.

Maya: In fact, recently I’ve been really inspired conceptually. There’s a lot going on in my personal life -- well, honestly, not really my personal life so much as everyone else’s personal life which is impacting mine, it’s a headache and a whole thing -- and I feel like I definitely could nail some serious emotional bullshit to the wall. I don’t know if you all have heard me truly belt yet, but if you pair me with a piano -- Melissa: You’re right, Maya. We should dive right in. Let’s talk about the EP.

That’s what she’s been doing! Aren’t they listening? Still, she perks up, backing off her rambling and opening the floor to them. Justin and Melissa share one more look, then Justin braves the first stab.

Justin: It is epic that you’ve been doing all those demos on your own. Seriously, keep it up -- the creative juices need to be flowing, and once this EP hits, we’re sure we’ll need a lot more where that came from.

All sounds good. Maya nods along.

Justin: But we haven’t had the chance to dig into the tracks yet. Not all of them, at least. Melissa: The ones we did were good, don’t get me wrong. But we’re just not sure it’s the right direction for your career at the moment. Maya: Oh. [ a beat ] What? Melissa: You have had such success with your first two singles, which were home runs. And the label loved it enough, they were willing to gift us a swing at “Haute Stuff” from their vault. Justin: Which we are certain will be a hit. Melissa: But we don’t want to stray too far from that vein just yet. It’s great that you have all these ideas, and you want to explore new sounds. We’re into that. Justin: But the label wants sure bets. They wanna take a chance on you, but within reason. You’ve proven that you’ve got the goods, just with this certain kind of sound. So for your first smash debut, we figure we should keep it that way.

Long story short, they won’t be using any of her current material. Not that it isn’t good -- apparently, they wouldn’t really know -- but they want to stick to the working formula. An EP full of “O.M.G.” and “Haute Stuff” is guaranteed to kick her off strong.

Maya absorbs this, squaring her expression.

Maya: I see. Melissa: Again, it’s not that we don’t think you have the stuff. Justin: I mean, clearly you do. Your numbers are insane for a breakout, and your vocals are killer. Not to mention you’re smoking hot. All that tracks, and believe us, the label knows that. Melissa: That’s why we don’t want to do anything that’ll screw up that trajectory. Justin: Trust us on this. Deliver a banger EP, keep dazzling and looking good, and we’ll handle the rest. We’ll get where we wanna be before you know it.

Pizzazz and glamor has always been her thing, after all… shouldn’t be too hard to uphold that veneer. She can sing a few more brassy, confident bangers and get her foot in the door. Whatever it takes, right? This is the dream, after all.

But perhaps she didn’t expect it to feel so plastic. But Maya knows better than to blow this chance. Justin and Melissa are invested in her; they all want to see her succeed. If she plays her cards right, she’ll get to do it her way eventually.

So for now, just smile and look the part. Maya plasters on a starlit smile and nods, expertly hiding her frustration.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Not all parts are built to last. Farkle returns to his room after another show, but he doesn’t look energized the way he used to after performing. Tonight, he just looks exhausted.

He collapses onto his bed, rolling onto his side… when he spots something over the side that catches his eye. He sits up again, reaching out and retrieving the box of stuff Isa pointed out tucked away by his bedside table.

He carefully sifts through the contents, pulling each item out and laying it out on the bed in front of him. His Wicked playbill. Pride & Prejudice. All those pictures of him through the Adams of years with his cohort, looking geeky or gangly and in full-on freak mode.

Looking like himself, with the people who helped him figure out who the hell that was. Funnily enough, he can’t even remember when he boxed it all up and shoved it aside.

He pulls one photo out of the pile -- one of the principal cast of Les Miserables, him with his best Javert scowl. Mostly theatrical, at that time… and one castmate in particular looking just about ready to call him out for something. Probably deserved. The one peer who has always been especially good at keeping him real.

Before he can second-guess himself, Farkle reaches for his phone.

INT. BABINEAUX HOME - ZAY’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Lucky for Farkle, Zay isn’t asleep despite the late hour. He’s clearly been trying, but his mind is running too fast. Too many contradictions to contemplate; too many questions he doesn’t know the answer to.

Even when he does what he’s supposed to be doing, he can’t get it right. Even when he does exactly what’s expected of him, when he follows the rules and beaten path, it gets screwed up. He’s supposed to take the traditional route and get a school to endorse his talent -- but God forbid he hate the school part in the meantime. He’s meant to be ambitious, to take any opportunity that comes his way -- but then he’s an asshole who can’t decide what he wants.

He’s got someone he likes, and he’s making it work despite the challenges. He’s moved on, because that’s what reasonable people do when they find someone compatible rather than waiting around for a faithless prayer. He moved on.

But God forbid…

This is why you don’t stay up late with nothing but your thoughts. It gets too dark at night… in this case, his phone lighting up on his nightstand is doing him a favor. When he realizes it’s an incoming call, he sits up instantly and reaches for it, trained like Pavlov for late-night rings…

Obviously, it’s not who he expected. Honestly, when Zay sees Farkle’s picture lighting up his phone, he doesn’t look thrilled. He’s got enough crowding his mind right now, the last thing he needs is another misplaced chewing out or stupid argument with him.

And yet, for some reason, he can’t bring himself to hit ignore.

Zay: Hello?

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Farkle seems equally surprised that he actually picked up. The scene proceeds intercut between them.

Farkle: Um… hi. It’s Farkle. Zay: Yeah, I know. I have caller ID. It’s 2022. Farkle: Oh, yeah. Right. Zay: What it doesn’t tell me is why the fuck you’re calling me at two in the morning. Farkle, bewildered: Two in the -- ? [ a beat ] Oh, shit. Zay: Time zones are a thing. Farkle: Shit, yeah. Sorry, I totally -- I forgot. [ with a sheepish chuckle ] Sometimes, I guess I’m still just mentally there, so everyone is still on my timeline.

Even still, it would still be two in the morning… but Zay doesn’t gripe. He doesn’t, because based on the slight warble in Farkle’s voice and that odd instinct from moments earlier, he has the sense he already knows the answer to his own question.

But Farkle has to get there on his own. After a moment, he clears his throat.

Farkle: Sorry, again. I just… I just had a question. Real quick. Zay: [ rubbing his eyes ] I’m listening. Farkle: Um… your boyfriend. The one you had in freshman year. Did… [ a beat ] did you love him?

Zay pauses, seriously thinking about it. Choosing his words carefully -- knowing if Farkle is asking, then what he says will matter.

Zay: I thought I did.

Doesn’t mean it was real, though. Doesn’t mean it changed any of the shitty reality. Farkle nods to himself, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Farkle: Right. [ another beat ] Did he love you?

That last thread of hope, hanging on for dear life, creates the crack in his voice. Zay winces slightly, but pretends for his sake that he didn’t hear it.

Zay: He said he did. Maybe he thought he meant it too. Farkle: [ knowing it’s coming ] But… Zay: But words are just words. There’s not really a way to prove their truth. He might’ve told me a thousand times how much he liked me or not -- wouldn’t have made it genuine. [ a beat ] I mean, I’ve had people who never told me so out loud, never said the words, but I still…

You know. When someone loves you, really loves you, it’s translated through more than just words. Zay feels his throat start to ache and clears it, shaking his head to get back on track.

Zay: It’s about how you feel. The way it all makes you feel. I don’t have the dictionary definition, like I can’t spell it out for you, but you’ve got instincts. I know you do. If it’s good, then you’ll know how it’s supposed to feel.

Farkle does. He does, and that’s what he’s so scared of. Because he knows it’s not supposed to feel like being an afterthought. It’s not supposed to feel like backhanded compliments and condescending affection; it’s not a forgotten birthday or blindsided family ambushes.

Zay: He liked something about me, but I don’t know what. Sometimes the idea of a relationship is more compelling than the reality.

In this case, Zay might be speaking from recent experience… whether he wants to acknowledge it or not. Farkle processes that, silently wiping the tears from his cheeks with the heel of his palm. Once he’s had the chance to collect himself, he asks one more question.

Farkle: How did you know? When did -- [ holding it together ] when did you figure it out?

Zay takes a deep breath, letting the air out through his lips. It was so long ago, almost feels like another life. But if he had to take a guess…

Zay: There’s kind of two parts to it. Later on, like now, I look back on it and see it because I know the difference. It’s hard to see it when you’re in it, but in hindsight it’s 20/20. Farkle: Right. Zay: Like, I’ve had stuff since then -- [ quickly ] obviously, you know, since I’m… I have a girlfriend. Now.  Farkle: Right… Zay: And the thing is, it’s not easy to get over, like it takes time. But now that I’m out of it, I realize how insignificant it was in the long run. Not on my psyche, and shit, but for longevity. When I got over that one, I got over it. It wasn’t easy, but I did it. Other ones…

Some might say he’s still not over them. But semantics… anyway…

Zay: The other moment happened during the relationship, but I don’t think I got that it was at the time. It took a while. But… I kind of think of this shit as a balancing act. It’s a tightrope walk, except you’re both pieces of it. You’re walking the rope, but you’re the net too. In a relationship, a real one, you walk it together. It’s not a cake walk, and you might lose your balance. But you’re the net, and if one of you falls, you catch each other. You know you’ve got that support -- you can believe that there’ll be someone there to catch you.

Trust. Support. Belief. It’s all interconnected. Without any of those pillars, the foundation crumbles.

Zay: And one day… I just realized I was walking without a net.

Brooklyn wasn’t there for him -- not in the way he should have been. Thankfully he took care of the risk by breaking up with Zay before he could take a bad fall, but that feeling of insecurity was always there.

Farkle seems to know exactly what he’s talking about. No matter how badly he wishes he didn’t. A long moment of silence settles over them as Farkle swallows it, screwing his eyes shut. Zay doesn’t rush him, or push him to talk.

Finally, he does, clearing his throat again.

Farkle: Well, thanks for picking up. And… saying all that. I know it’s intrusive of me to ask. Zay: It’s fine. [ a beat ] You okay? Farkle: … Yeah. [ nodding to himself ] Yeah. I will be.

Zay smiles sympathetically. Farkle thanks him again and promises he’ll let him go to sleep, but before they hang up, Zay gets one last word in.

Zay: You deserve it real, Farkle. You’re a lot to handle, but you deserve someone who walks the walk with you. Who walks out on the rope and doesn’t look down.

Farkle may not believe that now, but hopefully, with time… he manages a teary smile and nods, thanking Zay one last time.

Farkle: So do you.

With that, they hang up, both left alone with their own late-night thoughts. And boy, are there a lot of them to pick through tonight… as they recline back against their pillows, the delicate synth piano opening of Ghost picks up…

Riley, pre-lap: I wanna marry you, Sam.

INT. NYU - THEATER - NIGHT

Opening night has arrived, and we’re well on our way! Riley has just delivered her bombshell declaration as Molly, starry-eyed and shining under the stage lights. Evan stands opposite her as Sam, looking slightly stunned at the lovesick admission.

Evan: What? Riley: I’ve been thinking about it. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, I think we should just do it! Evan: You’re serious? Riley: Yeah!

Riley really is at peak bubbly and adorable in her acted enthusiasm, it’s impressive Evan can keep a straight face. But he’s an actor, so he holds his own, allowing the scene to unfold towards the next number. Aptly, the subject matter is eerily relevant…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Three Little Words” as performed by Ghost: The Musical Original Cast Recording || Performed by Riley Matthews & Evan Scott

After they exchange banter about Evan’s -- Sam’s -- surprise at her suggestion, Riley prompts the opening question.

Riley: Do you love me, Sam? Evan: What do you think? Riley: Then say it! Evan: What are you talking about? I say it all the time! Riley: No, you don’t. You say “ditto.” It’s not the same.

With that, the actual number begins, Evan picking up the lyrics and easing into the song. The two of them still share the same natural chemistry and charisma that got them the roles in the first place, and it’s neat to get to see Evan actually embody a role rather than play back-up to Brandon Rivas.

Riley, as per usual, is endearingly emotive. She’s playing a part, of course, but listening to her sing about unspoken words and endless patience with her lover does strike a particularly resonant chord.

The whole brigade that has shown up to support her in the audience clearly agrees, all proud and fond smiles as they watch their friend perform -- Jack and Eric are seated a few rows back with HARPER BURGESS, SHAWN HUNTER, and ANGELA MOORE. CORY MATTHEWS is with them, also with AUGGIE MATTHEWS in tow.

And in a big line through a row in the center section, the cheer squad is there in full force. Nigel, then Zay, who has brought along HENRIK FON VELDT too; Charlie watches with a bright smile, leaning over to hear what Rosie whispers to him, with URI MINKUS on her right (no more convenient a casual date than seeing your brother’s friend perform, I guess).

Then, of course, there’s Lucas. Taken with Riley’s stage presence as always, light smile on his lips, but there’s a shade of something heavier in his expression too. Because although he may be far from an expert on musicals, and wouldn’t pretend to be, he’s not oblivious. The themes of this show in particular aren’t especially subtle, and he notices the authenticity in Riley’s performances more than most.

It’s just three little words, Sam

He’s spent enough years at Adams to know that often times, the best performances are those that ring with even a hint of personal truth.

Do you love me?

INT. NYU - THEATER ATRIUM - NIGHT

The whole gang is eagerly waiting for Riley to emerge after the show ends, avidly discussing the performance in a little, rowdy circle. Well, they’re mostly discussing the show -- Nigel is chatting with Charlie about another topic entirely, staring at Rosie and Uri chatting with friends a few feet away.

Nigel: So your sister… is dating a Minkus. Charlie: Yep. Well, on the record, no. But yes. Nigel: Wild. Small world. [ a beat ] And does she know about how you and Farkle --

Charlie cuts him off, lightly shushing him and shaking his head. Some things are better left unknown.

Riley emerges from the dressing rooms moments later, immediately being greeted by applause from the gathered crowd. She’s a bit surprised by the reception, smiling bashfully and bowing her head gratefully, before she scans for her people. Once she spots them, she’s basically accosted, all of them surging forward to meet her and pulling her into a group bear hug. She cracks up.

Zay: There’s our girl! The star of New York University. Henrik: Seriously, great job. You were sick. Nigel: So great. Making all us Adams apples proud.

Riley thanks them, flush with excitement and joy. She accepts a hug from Charlie.

Charlie: I second all the above. You were amazing. [ quieter ] And I really want to unpack all of it with you and everything, but the Havies are here to see Evan, and if possible I would really, really not like to run into them --

So essentially, he’s asking for permission to bail. Riley laughs, nodding and gesturing him away. They’ll have plenty of time to catch up later. Charlie mouths a relieved thanks and gives her one more kiss on the cheek, then cheerfully tells everyone else goodbye before dashing off to collect his sister and get the hell out of there. Once he’s made his exit, Henrik leans over to murmur to Zay.

Henrik: So that’s your friend Charlie? Zay: Yeah. Henrik: Damn. Never would’ve guessed he’s nearly as nerdy as you always say, because he is so hot. [ playfully ] He single?

Loaded question, Henrik. Zay manages a strangled smile, but can’t bring himself to answer.

Meanwhile, Riley’s attention is directed elsewhere, when she discovers another unexpected friend came to see her perform. Vanessa awkwardly approaches their circle from the outside, lightly tapping Riley’s shoulder. When she turns around and recognizes her, her eyes light up.

Riley: Oh my God. Hi! Vanessa: Hi --

Riley gives her a hug, catching her off-guard. But Vanessa accepts it after a moment, returning the gesture.

Riley: I had no idea you were coming. Did you like the show? Vanessa: Yeah. Yeah, it was good. You were awesome. Riley: Thanks. I’m glad you got to see it. Especially opening night. Vanessa: Yeah. I wasn’t… I wasn’t sure I was gonna be able to make it either. But I wanted to be here -- to support you, and everything -- so… I did.

She decided to do something she wanted for a change, the way she wanted. To support a friend. Besides, she’s fairly certain if the roles were reversed, Riley would’ve shown up for her in a heartbeat. Riley beams, touched.

EXT. FILM FESTIVAL VENUE - NIGHT

Jordan is pacing outside the venue where the film festival is being held, already in full swing inside. He’s dressed nicely and looks like he’s in peak presentation shape, sans the impatient scowl on his face. He has his phone to his ear, and curses when it goes to voicemail.

He won’t have to wait much longer, though. He lifts his gaze and releases a frustrated sigh when he finally spots Farkle walking up the driveway towards him, but he doesn’t seem especially happy to see him.

Farkle has appropriately dressed up for the occasion, in dress shirt and slacks, but he doesn’t look quite as toned down and suave as Jordan. In fact, he looks more Farkle than we’ve seen him as of late, his chosen dress shirt an off-beat and slightly distracting shimmery shade of dark purple.

True to form, Jordan hardly notices, and when he does, he isn’t impressed.

Jordan: There you are. Where the hell were you? I’ve called you like five dozen times. The event’s already started. [ getting a better look at him ] What the hell are you wearing? I said this was classy -- you know what, nevermind. Whatever, we don’t have time to fix you. Come on. Farkle: When’s my birthday?

Jordan blinks at him. What the hell?

Jordan: What are you on about? We don’t have time for you to be cute right now, we’re already late. Come on.

Jordan turns around, starting to head up the walkway, but Farkle doesn’t move. He doesn’t follow. It only takes a few steps for Jordan to realize his shadow is staying behind. He slowly turns back around, tilting his head at him impatiently.

Jordan: Minkus. Let’s go. Farkle: [ not budging ] When’s my birthday? Jordan, huffy: Is this some kind of joke? Are you really going to choose now to play twenty questions? Farkle: It’s not a hard question. [ pithy ] Only one correct answer.

One that Jordan clearly, painfully, can’t answer. But Farkle already knew that. As he stands there and watches Jordan sputter, he throws him other lifelines, seeing if he can snare even one.

Farkle: Okay, how about my star sign? That’s a wider range. Or what’s my favorite musical? What high school did I go to? How many siblings do I have? Jordan: This is ridiculous. I do not have time for your little quirks tonight. Farkle: You’ve been my boyfriend for months. It’s an easy question. You answer it, then we go inside and the conversation is over. It’s that simple. [ holding his glare ] When is my birthday?

Tellingly, Jordan doesn’t know. He won’t admit it, but it’s obvious. He doesn’t know, so he deflects instead, claiming that Farkle is being so random and selfish right now.

Jordan: First you show up late, and now you’re… having a diva meltdown, or something? On a night you know is important to me? Did you like, forget to take your meds? Is this an episode?

Oh, of course, that he remembers. Farkle scoffs a laugh, shaking his head to himself… then he nods. Jordan didn’t address his question, but even so, Farkle got his answer.

Jordan: Whatever. It’s fine. We’ll talk about it later. For now, people are waiting for us, so let’s go. Farkle: No, you go. It’s your night, after all. You don’t need me. [ putting his hands in his pockets ] This is… this is done. We’re done. Jordan: … you can’t be serious. You’re seriously breaking up with me? Now? Farkle: That’s what it looks like. But it’s not my fault you can’t remember one simple date. [ pointedly ] February 12th, by the way. You know, the day you decided was also important to you so you could try a fancy new premier dish you didn’t even like.

Woof… slowly, Jordan’s missteps are starting to dawn on him. That, and he’s realizing that Farkle is dead serious. So he tries the next tactic in his playbook -- shifting blame.

Jordan: Is this about De La Cruz? Your little director friend? Farkle, bewildered: What? Jordan: Come on, it’s obvious. They never liked me. I don’t know what they said to you -- Farkle: This has nothing to do with -- Jordan: But they’re clearly jealous. Surely you can see that. Unless this is more about you. What, is the De La Cruz connection better? A smarter gamble in your eyes? Farkle: Their name is Isa. And this has nothing to do with them. This is about you. In fact, you should be fucking thrilled -- you love it when things are all about you.

This time, Farkle isn’t playing his games. He’s not having it. He’s holding his ground, and yes, he is legitimately dumping him. Farkle starts to back away.

Farkle: Good luck at the festival, Jordan. I know how much you care about your career; hope it works out for you.

He’s really going to walk away. Farkle turns to do just that, heading back down the driveway, when Jordan lashes out one last time.

Jordan: So, what then? What are you gonna do now? If I’m not there to show you off, who else is going to put up with you? [ a beat; insistent ] Who do you think is going to care about you if I don’t?

Damn, the self-importance truly is astronomical. And the dart is well-aimed, shooting exactly where it hurts… but all Farkle can do is laugh. He looks over his shoulder back at him.

Farkle: You probably don’t know this -- actually, I know you don’t, because you clearly don’t know anything about me -- but I’m more than acquainted with going it alone.

So he’ll be just fine without him and his enormous ego. With that, Farkle walks away, walking down the driveway without looking back.

Jordan scoffs, the actual one clearly uncomfortable with walking the walk alone. He huffs and heads back towards the venue, not nearly as suave as before. As the iconic guitar chords ease in…

EXT. HOLLYWOOD STREETS - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Dear John” as performed by Taylor Swift || Performed by Farkle Minkus

Farkle starts the number as he walks the streets in a daze, still not entirely sure if what just happened was real. If he’s really walking away from the only relationship he’s ever had, or if it’s all a fever dream. He doesn’t feel quite grounded in reality -- he doesn’t quite feel like anything.

Then, when he thinks about it, he hasn’t felt like anything in a while. He isn’t sure when he last felt truly like himself.

And my mother accused me of losing my mind But I swore I was fine…

INT. MUSEUM DREAMSCAPE - NIGHT

Farkle steps through an archway and into an immaculate museum, similar to all the ones he and Jordan walked on one of their many pretentious dates. They all blur together, creating a memory in his mind just like this -- cavernous rooms with echoing hardwood floors, plain white walls, spacious but empty. Even more hollow when he realizes he’s walking it alone.

The art and artifacts on display aren’t classic art or nouveau sculptures -- it’s remnants of their relationship. The remains of their decaying romance, the fragments Farkle had been collecting and holding onto in his mind to convince himself it was worth it. Moments captured in watercolor and framed on the walls; stupid memorabilia he scrapped together over the months on display like priceless antiquities. All carefully preserved, protected behind glass.

INT. BING THEATRE STAGE - NIGHT

In the last vignette of the performance, Farkle is alone center stage under a spotlight in an empty auditorium. He’s in his Cathy costume from The Last Five Years, only there’s no one to perform for. The auditorium is empty.

It’s just an audience of one -- himself. His chance to make sense of what he just experienced, to justify it to himself, the whirlwind of a romance destined for disaster with a creative genius who never saw his value.

Well I stopped picking up and this song is to let you know why

The performance continues between these three settings, building in intensity as the numbness wears thin and the reality of what’s happening really sets in.

EXT. LOS ANGELES STREETS - NIGHT

We get the first glimpse of that when Farkle hits the first chorus, spitting out the lines like they’re venom. Spilling out of him before he can stop them, at least not as well as he’s holding back his tears. He splits the chorus with his persona on stage, doing his best to keep it together.

INT. MUSEUM DREAMSCAPE - NIGHT

As we dip into the second verse, Farkle continues his journey through the museum. Before long, he stumbles upon the most prized piece of art on display, the lynch pin holding the whole collection together.

Him. A version of himself he no longer recognizes, encased in four walls of bulletproof glass. Wearing one of his dorky blazers he theoretically buried in the box by his bedside table, coif carelessly untidy and not perfectly polished in place. He’s seated at the piano, mindlessly playing a song again and again that present Farkle can’t hear. Dutifully putting on the performance, separated from reality. From himself.

There to be the muse, looked at, silently admired. But not seen. Not touched. Not free to be his full worth.

Or maybe it’s you and your sick need To give love then take it away

That is, until he looks up and sees himself on the other side of the glass. Display Farkle stops playing, stunned, staring at the version of him with the shimmery purple shirt and hollow eyes looking back at him. Suddenly aware, for the first time, that he’s out of touch.

He gets up as present Farkle approaches the display, still unable to look away from each other. The Farkle behind glass reaches up, only to be shocked when his hand hits glass. It never occurred to him until now that he was boxed in. Trapped.

Present Farkle puts his hand on the glass, mirroring the other… but he can’t free him. Only he can do that.

So present Farkle turns and walks away, continuing through the exhibit and leaving the other one behind.

EXT. LOS ANGELES STREETS - NIGHT

While Farkle keeps walking away from the festival, doing his best to keep his chin up and look ahead. It’s hard, though, and his eyes are growing glossier… he makes the mistake of turning back to look over his shoulder, but it’s not Jordan he sees haunting him from behind.

It’s Zay. And Isa. And Maya. His brother; his mother. Everyone who tried to warn him, who tried to get him to see reason. Their expressions convey pity, but their eyes scream “I told you so.”

And I’ll look back and regret when I ignored how they said

When Farkle sings the next line, they echo it, silently mouthing along.

Run as fast as you can!

Farkle does just that, shaking his head and turning to run. As he takes off in a slow-motion sprint --

INT. BING THEATRE STAGE - NIGHT

Stage Farkle launches into the next chorus, really leaning into it.

INT. MUSEUM DREAMSCAPE - NIGHT

At the same time, the Farkle left in the museum has started to panic. Now that he’s seen the light, he’s desperate to escape. He bangs on the glass, muted as he screams for help, searching for any way out. He doesn’t even remember how he ended up here, so detached from everything else and frozen behind glass.

Actually, yes he does. When he looks through the glass and glimpses a painting across the room -- one of Jordan and him at his family estate, being shown off like an ingenue and paraded around before the inevitable mouse-trap waiting at dinner -- he suddenly remembers quite clearly how he got here.

Someone convinced him this was where he belonged. Someone who was supposed to love him, but never did.

Don’t you think eighteen’s too young to be played By your dark twisted games when I loved you so?

Farkle frowns, filled with anger. He spins around and goes back to the piano, pausing for a long moment…

Then he picks up the piano bench and throws it at the glass, the entire case shattering and crashing down around him just as the guitar riff builds into the bridge.

I should’ve known

INT. NYU APARTMENT - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

The montage cuts forward to when Farkle finally makes it home, coming back to a room he hardly recognizes as his own. Now that he’s alone, the emotion has nowhere else to go -- tears start to slip down his cheeks as he takes to destroying the evidence, ripping down any remnants of Jordan from his space.

INT. MUSEUM DREAMSCAPE - NIGHT

Once Farkle emerges from the rubble of the glass case, nicked and bleeding from a thousand little cuts, he does the same. He starts to wreak havoc on the museum, tearing down displays and ripping paintings off the walls. It’s a full-on diva meltdown, righteous in its rage, chewing up the scenery in the most literal way.

INT. BING THEATRE STAGE - NIGHT

As both scenes of destruction unfold, the Farkle on stage rails into the bridge, shredding the vocals and tapping back into the best version of a performance Farkle knows how to give -- emotionally authentic. Raw. Not consumed with whether his hands are flexing or if he’s perfectly on pitch.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - FARKLE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Farkle finishes his purge and collapses onto his bed in an exhausted heap, face flushed and tear-stained.

All the girls that you’ve run dry have tired, lifeless eyes ‘Cause you’ve burned them out

INT. MUSEUM DREAMSCAPE - NIGHT

In the museum, Farkle isn’t crying. He’s not crumbling. He’s deadly calm as he retrieves the last item left standing on display -- a matchbook from the “On My Grind (O.M.G.)” video shoot. As the bridge briefly goes gentle, he takes the matches and lights one, staring numbly at the small flame flickering at the other end.

Then he turns around and tosses it towards the bonfire of their relationship he created in the center of the museum, letting it all go up in flames.

I’m shining like fireworks over your sad empty town!

EXT. LOS ANGELES STREETS - NIGHT

Real Farkle belts with everything he’s got in the vocal run closing out the bridge, equally as teary as the future version of him in his room. The rest of the last chorus is split between him singing as he finishes his walk away and the one on stage, delivering the emotional anthem as only Farkle Minkus could.

INT. MUSEUM DREAMSCAPE - NIGHT

Meanwhile, Farkle continues to feed the fire in the museum, throwing the last of the pieces of their relationship into the flames. The foundations are starting to crumble around him -- beams cracking, smoke billowing, utter collapse imminent. But he doesn’t run away. He doesn’t flee.

Instead, he strides back over to the piano, still upright in the midst of his mayhem. He retrieves the piano bench from where he threw it and puts it back in place, settling down onto it and releasing a breath.

Don’t you think I was too young to be messed with The girl in the dress wrote you a song…

Then Farkle starts to play. Unbothered, utterly centered. Even as he’s riddled with battle scars, and the world is on fire around him, he focuses on the keys, tapping out the closing piano notes in the arrangement of the track.

INT. BING THEATRE STAGE - NIGHT

As the song dwindles to its conclusion, losing steam, each vignette gets its last moment. Farkle on stage offers his last repetition of the closing line, weary and resigned.

INT. MUSEUM DREAMSCAPE - NIGHT

Farkle continues to play in the inferno, playing those simple notes again and again… but he finally finds his voice again. He gets his chance to speak, taking the second to last line with venomous resentment.

Don’t you think I was too young?

EXT. LOS ANGELES STREETS - NIGHT

In reality, Farkle is all of these things. He’s devastated; he’s righteous. He’s weary. He’s furious. He’s resigned. He’s nothing and yet all of the above, a dizzying disaster of emotion and feeling.

And yet, it’s comforting. It’s familiar. He might be on fire, but at least he’s himself.

At least he’s free.

He looks back over his shoulder one last time, getting his goodbye glance. He knows, despite the pain, that he won’t be going back.

You should’ve known…

Then he turns and continues walking down the street, leaving Jordan and the showstopping performance in the past.

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - GUEST ROOM - NIGHT

Following the disastrous trip to the museum, all Isa wants to do is hide in their room and never speak to anyone ever again. From their huddled position between their bed and the wall, they’re prepared to do just that…

But they know that they shouldn’t stay like this. What did Eric say? Communication is always the best solution. Avoiding the issue doesn’t help anything. These days, it’s like everyone needs a dose of that reminder.

Suppose they should at least try. Isa forces themself to get up. Their hand shakes a little as they reach for the door handle, everything within them screaming to get back into their safe hiding spot, but they resist the urge to run away.

They’re going to do the mature thing and face the problem head-on. They’re going to talk to Zachary. 

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - HALLWAY - NIGHT

Isa approaches Zachary and Ruby’s bedroom door and raises a hand to knock. Before they do, they notice that the door is already slightly ajar. They take a small step forward to knock as they open the door, but halt when they hear hushed voices from beyond the door. 

Isa knows they shouldn’t eavesdrop. They know they should either knock and make themself known or leave them to the privacy of their conversation, but their feet are glued to the floor.

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - ZACHARY AND RUBY’S ROOM - NIGHT

The couple are both sitting up in bed, lit up by their bedside table lamps. Ruby has her hair wrapped up in a silk scarf, and Zachary has a pair of reading glasses on and a Kindle on his lap, but it’s left unread while he talks with Ruby. He reaches out to take her hand in his as he talks.

Zachary: I’m sorry you’re having to deal with all of this.  Ruby: [ with a small, tired smile ] It’s okay. I’m sorry that you’re having to go through this sort of thing again. How are you doing? 

Isa would like to know the answer to that question, too. Zachary sighs, then admits that he’s stressed. 

Zachary: This is exactly what I’ve been trying to avoid my entire career. What I never wanted you and the boys to have to deal with. It’s why I broke up with Valerie in the first place. I couldn’t do anything without a horde of paparazzi following me; they camped outside my house, took photos of us through the windows. It was awful. [ a beat ] I didn’t want someone else to define me. Let alone with that much scrutiny. I’m not cut out for this part of the industry; this media circus.

Few people truly are. Even Val, the beacon herself, couldn’t survive it in the end. Sympathetic, Ruby rests her head on Zachary’s shoulder and intertwines their fingers.

Ruby: I know. But we’ll get through it. As a family.  Zachary, softly: I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you and the boys to ground me. [ with a kiss to her forehead ] I love you. 

Ruby smiles lightly, squeezing his hand.

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - HALLWAY - NIGHT

That definition of family doesn’t appear to include Isa. And for good reason, since all they’ve done is destroy the peaceful life that Zachary managed to create after his mess of a relationship with Valerie. 

They see where they stand. They’ve been rejected from too many foster families to not recognize it.

Vision blurred with tears, Isa silently rushes back to their room.

EXT. MACNAMARA HOME - DRIVEWAY - NIGHT

Outside the house, now with a hastily stuffed backpack, Isa takes a moment to look up at the home. The final light from an upstairs bedroom goes out. They’re going to sleep; they didn’t hear them leaving. Or they did, but they just don’t care.

Good riddance. They can practically hear Louis’s glee.

Isa swipes the tears from their eyes and sets off down the street, not looking back. 

INT. GARDNER HOME - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

Eleanor is on the couch when Charlie returns from the show, working on cataloging contact information taken from the coffee greet that week.

Eleanor: How was the show? Charlie: It was fun. The show itself is… interesting, but Riley and Evan made it work. Riley especially was spectacular. Eleanor: [ with a smile ] I’m sure she was.

And she sure thinks she knows why Charlie would think so… anyway, Charlie asks what she’s working on, and she explains that she’s adding the contact information they collected from the visitors to their church directory. She is going to send a follow up welcome email inviting them to service.

She takes care to remark that they did have a decent amount more young people decide to sign-up after chatting with Charlie… so he does have quite the influence. Charlie waves her off, coming to join her on the couch.

Charlie: Don’t give me too much credit. Eleanor: I think maybe we’re not giving you enough. Perhaps the ladies were right, maybe we should get you on a billboard or two. [ off his laughter ] Though of course, I’ve always known you were a charmer. Pride and joy of the Catholic boys club in primary, ideal date to the eighth grade dance…

Charlie can’t help but laugh, but more because he wouldn’t agree with any of those characterizations. She really has no idea how awkward and out of place he’s always felt… but in some ways it’s nice. It’s nice that she has such a high opinion of him, and to hear her verbalize it again. With the chill since his return, he wasn’t sure if the sentiments survived his absence.

Once their laughter dies down a bit, Charlie braves addressing just that.

Charlie: I had fun this week. Getting to do stuff together. Eleanor: Me too. Though I don’t see how you possibly found any of it fun. I’m sure it was dreadfully boring for a young man with plenty of other things to do. Charlie: I’m an academic nerd on the tail end of a gap year with nothing to do. My schedule really isn’t that packed. [ off her playful head shake ] But mostly it was nice to hang out with you. Like we used to when I was younger. [ a beat ] To be honest, I kind of felt like… since I got back, things haven’t felt quite the same.

Based on how Eleanor clams up a bit, expression hardening, it’s clear he wasn’t making that up.

Charlie: I wasn’t sure if I… did I do something wrong? Or upset you? If I did, I didn’t mean -- Eleanor: No. No, heavens, no. You’re fine, Charlie. You’ve done everything right. You always have. I’ve never been prouder of you.

Then why is it so hard for her to say so… the reason for the hardness in her features becomes clearer when her eyes start to gloss over. She’s trying not to cry. Charlie frowns, but Eleanor preemptively waves off his concern.

Eleanor: I’m sorry. This is so silly of me. [ swiping at her eyes ] You didn’t do anything wrong. You’ve done exactly what you were supposed to do. Grow up, explore the world, share your grace with it. And you’ve done so well. So, so well. You’ve done nothing but make your father and I endlessly proud. [ a beat ] But it changed you, too. You’re not the same as you were when you were a kid -- even when we left you at JFK. Not in a bad way, just… in ways I wasn’t expecting. That I wasn’t prepared for. You came back with all this… confidence, independence. This new glow. I didn’t know how to process it. To see you shining so bright in this world without us. [ choked up ] Without me. Charlie: Mom… Eleanor: But that’s silly of me. That’s my own… silly motherhood emotions, and it has nothing to do with you. And any fears I had, doubts of how you could’ve changed for the worse… they were irrational. Completely irrational. You’re wonderful as you’ve always been. More, even. [ with a sigh ] I think I just didn’t know how to imagine a world where you didn’t need me anymore.

Charlie smiles sympathetically, admittedly relieved. Of all the reasons she could’ve been cold to him, this is about the best he could’ve asked for -- so gripped with the fear that she might have lost him, when that’s always the thing he’s feared most in the other direction.

The love is mutual. That’s all he’s ever wanted to know.

Charlie: I still need my mom. And even if I didn’t, since I’m growing up with two great parents who raised me well, that doesn’t mean I won’t want you around. I will always want you to be there, mom.

Eleanor laughs sheepishly, wiping a tear from her cheek. Charlie reaches forward and takes her hand, which she gratefully squeezes. She looks at him fondly, all the pride in the world in her eyes.

Eleanor: My perfect boy. Charlie: Not perfect. Just… trying. Just me. Eleanor: Well, that’s perfect to me.

She reaches forward and pulls him into a hug, which he happily accepts. He returns the embrace tightly. Absorbing the motherly warmth and acceptance for all its worth.

Finally feeling like it isn’t nearly so fragile as his doubts always feared.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - NIGHT

Riley finally returns from NYU post-opening night, tired but in good spirits. Performing is draining, but it was fun to put on a show again. To have all the people she loves who could be there come out in support. To have another way to bring everyone together again.

She jumps lightly when she hears noise in the apartment, but she’s hardly surprised when it’s only Lucas. He emerges from her bedroom and receives an immediate smile in return. It’s impressive, how she can never seem to lose the joyful thrill of seeing him again.

Riley: I thought you might be here. Lucas: Well, big night. But am I that predictable? Riley: No, no. I was just thinking the whole way home how I was hoping you’d be here, how all I wanted to do after this long, long week was get home and see you, and somehow I just knew you’d get the message. You’re getting so good at reading my mind.

Don’t know about all that, scientifically speaking, but it’s cute how sincerely Riley says it. Lucas can’t help but smile.

In any case, he couldn’t possibly let the night end without congratulating her properly… as any good stage boyfriend would, he came prepared. He removes his hands from behind his back and reveals a small bouquet of flowers. Simple, understated but beautiful, peppered with purple hues.

So perfectly Riley. Her eyes sparkle as she approaches him, taking the flowers delicately and lifting them to her nose for a smell.

Riley: Thank you. They’re so pretty. [ hugging them close ] I love the colors. Lucas: I know.

Of course he does. He knows everything about her.

Lucas: You were incredible tonight. As always.

Riley smiles and takes the collar of his jacket, giving him a soft kiss. Then she claims she needs to get the flowers situated, going around the kitchen counter to find a vase and fill it with water. Lucas watches her for a long moment, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Lucas: Interesting show. Riley: I know. It’s kind of silly, really, but it’s not like the movie it’s based on is the pinnacle of storytelling either. Lucas: It’s based on a movie? Riley: [ with a fond, exasperated look ] Martian, I swear. Yes, it’s based on a movie.

News to him. Wouldn’t have made much of a difference to him either way. At least the themes were pretty easy to understand, if heavy-handed at times… he got one pretty loud and clear.

Lucas: Said some kind of important stuff I think. Albeit heavy-handed. About… speaking when you can. Using your words. [ a beat ] Saying what you need to say, in case people get the wrong idea and think otherwise.

It’s just three little words, after all… Riley glances over her shoulder at him, examining him. Wondering if he’s seriously comparing them to that… after a moment, she tilts her head, giving him a reassuring look.

Riley: It’s just a musical, Lucas.

She turns to face him, leaning against the counter. Lucas nods.

Lucas: Maybe so. But it made me think… which I guess is kind of a victory, right? Isn’t that the whole point of these things, to make the audience think? Riley: I suppose. Though I’m not sure Ghost: The Musical is the epitome of a brain-teaser.

Lucas slowly makes his way across the floor to join her, taking his time while he finds his words. Riley doesn’t rush him, letting her gaze linger.

Lucas: I don’t pretend to know anything about this stuff. Music, stories, whatever. But I can get a hint. And it doesn’t take much to know that that Sam dude fucked up. He had a good thing, but he didn’t know how to keep it. He didn’t know how to tell her. And then he lost his chance, and she spent all that time wondering. Riley: Unless you’re planning on getting shot in an armed robbery any time soon, I wouldn’t be all that concerned… Lucas: With me, let’s be honest, you never know.

That’s not the point, though. Lucas has arrived in front of her, determined to say what he needs to say. Riley waits, only slightly impatient, as he gently takes her hands in his.

Lucas: I know I don’t know what to say. That I don’t say enough. That I never know what I’m doing -- that for some reason you seem to have endless grace, and patience, and don’t expect me to have all the words. That you’d never tell me otherwise. [ off her light head shake ] I know you don’t ask for much, but I want to make sure you know. I want to be sure that you know how I feel, even if the words aren’t exactly right, because I don’t want you to doubt it. I don’t ever want you to be stuck wondering.

Riley’s captivated now, lost in the soft sincerity of his voice. The delicate passion he always speaks with when it comes to her, even if he’s convinced he’s useless with words. When it’s Riley, he has a way with them -- he always has.

Lucas brings a hand up and brushes some hair out of her face, cupping her cheek. He grazes his thumb along her cheekbone, soft and delicate, really taking her in. Riley holds her breath, hanging on his every word and locked on those green eyes.

Lucas: I love you, Riley.

Four little words, yet they’re like kryptonite. So simple in their truth, but so profound.

Riley uses all of her integrity not to melt, but Lucas does her the favor of keeping her steady. His other hand slides down to her waist and holds her close as he pulls her into a kiss, slow and sweet. It lingers, a shudder of anticipation tingling down Riley’s spine.

And Lucas thinks he’s not romantic. Please.

They hang on the precipice of another kiss, lips parted and just barely grazing, when Riley speaks. A gentle, slightly shaky plea.

Riley: Say it again.

Lucas doesn’t hesitate to oblige. If Riley asks, he’ll do anything she wants.

Lucas: I love you. [ bumping their noses together ] I love you.

They exchange another kiss. Then another. Another, growing more drawn out with each soft declaration, murmured against her lips. Never losing its impact, heartfelt and genuine. Delicately devout.

Riley wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him closer, savoring every second and every word.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - NIGHT

Obviously, Farkle is at about the exact opposite end of that spectrum tonight. He finally makes it back to the apartment, burnt out but having shed all his tears on the way home.

Still, it’s more than evident he’s gone through it, and Maya clocks that immediately when she looks up from her laptop where she’s seated on the couch. She can automatically tell something is wrong, but she tries to aim for light.

Maya: Hi. How was the festival? [ re: his demeanor ] Surely the pretentious films weren’t that terrible. At least, for your sake, I hope. Farkle: I wouldn’t know. I didn’t see any films. I left long before that.

Maya eyes him curiously, waiting for more. Knowing there’s more. Farkle doesn’t bother to hide it. He holds his arms out with a shrug, the sentiment coming out with a bittersweet bite.

Farkle: It’s over. Jordan and I are done.

To his surprise, Maya isn’t elated. She gives him a look of genuine sympathy.

Maya: Shit. I’m sorry. Farkle: Me too. [ with a scoff of a laugh ] Honestly, I thought you’d be happy.

Maya’s expression shifts to fondness, albeit tinted with sadness.

Maya: [ like it explains everything ] You aren’t.

If he’s hurt, she’s hurt. It’s simple as that. Sure, it’s a relief Jordan is going to be out of the picture, but that’s not worth the hurt she can see stained on his cheeks. Her preferences aren’t worth it if it’s at the expense of his pain.

That’s exactly the kind of energy he needed from Jordan -- someone who would put his feelings first. Friend, lover, it doesn’t matter. If they don’t even have the consideration of mind to care, they don’t deserve his time.

Maya holds out her hands towards him, and he smiles sheepishly as he comes to join her. He flops onto the couch and she wraps him in a comforting embrace, resting her head on his upper arm. They sit that way for a long moment, thoughtful in the quiet.

Maya: It’ll happen for you someday. I know it. You’re gonna find someone who deserves you. [ a beat ] I mean, I’ll never believe anyone is good enough for you, but I’m impossible to please.

That manages to get a laugh out of him. He tilts his head to look at her.

Farkle: Figures. I don’t think I’ll ever do better than Maya Hart.

She smiles proudly. Damn right. She gives him another squeeze and a quick peck on the cheek, then goes back to resting her head on his shoulder. He tilts his back against hers, closing his eyes and immersing in the familiar comforts…

When there’s a knock on the door, disrupting it. Maya and Farkle exchange a look, confused -- neither of them seem to be expecting anybody. Maya raises her eyebrows.

Maya: If that’s him, I’m just saying, I have some pepper spray I have been dying to use.

Farkle snorts, shaking his head. But if it is his toxic boyfriend back for another fight, may as well get it over with… he gets to his feet and approaches the door, Maya watching from her perch on the couch.

It’s not Jordan. When Farkle pulls open the door, Isa is on the other side, backpack on their shoulder and things hastily gathered from the MacNamaras. A nomad yet again, searching for refuge and also hoping to find comfort in the familiar.

Farkle and Maya both stare at them, unprepared for their arrival.

INT. NYU APARTMENT - RILEY’S BEDROOM - DAY

Familiar peace is the vibe of the next morning for Riley and Lucas, the two of them not in any rush to get out of bed. They’re still half-dressed from the night before, and nowhere near ready to disrupt the lavender haze. For now, they’re prolonging it as long as they can, exchanging long, leisurely kisses even as they unconvincingly discuss facing the real world again.

Lucas shifts to let his lips transition to her cheek, then her jaw, then traces a lingering path along her neck. Riley hums in satisfaction and adjusts to give him more room, running her fingers through his hair. Even as they speak, their actions do no work to support their words.

Riley: We should get up. Lucas: [ into her neck ] Yeah. Riley: We should. Maybe. Although… Lucas: You have to go put on a show. Call time for dress rehearsal is in an hour.

Riley groans dramatically, earning a chuckle from him into her skin. Seriously, how many dress rehearsals does one girl need? They’ve already put on the show once! Particularly when her very talented boyfriend is kissing her neck?

Riley: You can put me on the record, there is literally nothing I would rather do less right now.

It’s not the musical’s fault -- there’s just simply nothing worth giving up this for. Lucas might concur, generally speaking, but it’s also his duty to ensure Riley doesn’t miss any opportunity to show everyone else how incredible she is. He may not get the performing thing, but the importance of that, he understands without question.

So he rallies her anyway, in spite of how he could very well probably stay there and kiss her for the rest of time. He peppers her with light kisses as he makes his case, pointing out that the show must go on. All that jazz. Riley isn’t enthused, but he wins her over eventually.

Lucas: What if I make breakfast? Riley: [ with a hum ] Depends. What are you making? Lucas: I’ve gotten pretty good at omelets since Joe started torturing me with covering cook shifts during brunch rush. Maybe French toast, if you promise to get out of bed. Riley: Mm… I’m tempted… Lucas: I’ll warn you now, though, it won’t be as good as anything Charlie would make. I’m not a miracle worker. Riley: Oh, what a loss. [ accepting a kiss ] Somehow, I think I’ll manage. Lucas: So we’re getting up? Riley: [ with a sigh ] Yes. Yes, we’re getting up.

But Lucas first, since he’s got his end of the bargain to uphold. He smiles, starting to sit up, then he doubles back, leaning over her.

Lucas: Hey. Guess what. Riley: Hm?

He didn’t forget what got them here in the first place. He drops his voice to just above a murmur, like he’s sharing a secret just for the two of them.

Lucas: I love you.

He gives her another swift peck, earning a giggle, then pushes himself out of bed. Riley grins and falls back against the pillows as she watches him go, running a hand through her tangled hair. She relaxes and closes her eyes again for a moment, soaking in the serenity and listening to the sound of Lucas starting to move around the kitchen.

This is it. This is as good as it gets. No matter what she’s doing, or where she is, as long as she has this to come home to, she’ll be okay. She has absolutely zero doubts.

But for now, the show must go on. She sighs and makes herself sit up, rubbing her eyes and bundling the blanket around her chest. She reaches for her phone when it starts to vibrate on the nightstand, expecting a text from one of her friends or maybe some reminder about dress rehearsal.

It’s not a text. It’s a call.

From Grace.

Riley doesn’t hesitate. She answers as soon as she reads the caller ID, apprehensive frown already on her face.

Riley: Hello? Yeah -- yeah, he’s here.

She starts to search the blankets, looking for Lucas’s phone. She finds it, flipping it over and seeing what Grace must be relaying on the other end.

Two missed calls, and a handful of texts. All from her. Based on Riley’s expression, it’s not good news.

Riley: Lucas!

He’s back in the doorway in seconds flat, worried based on the tone of her voice. She meets his eyes, phone still pressed to her ear.

She doesn’t have to say anything. With the look on her face, he already knows. He knows who must be calling -- he knows what he’s about to hear.

The lavender haze is over. Reality doesn’t wait.

And boy, does reality have a big storm coming.

END OF EPISODE.

[ ← Last (Part 2, half 1) ] [ 409 Hub ]

#409 #episodes #s4

[dragonofeternal]

So this year has been really, really good in terms of like... reminding/validating that I'm actually like smart and good at what I do?

Like.

First off, I got my new job which whips ass and is super fun and challenging and pays way better and where my ability to do nine million different things is like very valuable. Like oh yeah, I can reformat this word doc/that powerpoint. Do you want me to do a little bit of graphic design to make this actually look nicer? Oh, you need this video for a presentation but it's on a site other than youtube? Yeah sure, I'll rip it for you. And also just the day-to-day of being able to take good notes, and being able to help copyedit training materials, and generally being a pleasant and mostly on top of things person in the office.

THEN, I took one of Killian's creative writing classes along with them. Which, for one thing, was super fun, good teacher, nice to have an organized space/time to hang out and talk about writing. But also it was really validating to have someone outside of the internet/my inner circle of friends read and critique my work who was like... I dunno another adult/serious writer type person? Our teacher is a published poet -- Though more specifically she's prolific as a TRANSLATOR of poetry. A fair number of the translated Palestinian poets you've seen being posted around tumblr recently are most certainly her work. -- and when she realized the level I was writing at she started critiquing my work a lot harder. Still had nice stuff to say! Just also being willing to dig in and point out places where I could improve.

We actually hung out with her last night at a fellow classmate's band's show and she took both me and Killian aside for expanded critique/thoughts on our final pieces, and said some really nice stuff which included that she sees both of us as like professional-grade writers who should continue to hone their craft and who she really wants to see succeed/get shit published/etc. I'm currently letting a short story (that is... probably gonna end up as a novella orz) that I wrote for class sit before I do another draft of it, and then she's offered to do a more critical line edit for me so I can shop it around and get it published somewhere really good.

(Which is also interesting because I see myself as working very much in genre spaces and she's very in the "literary" sort of mode, and she said that she saw a lot of literary prowess and style in how I wrote which she could see getting it published in a more literary type journal. And that's like a weird/wild thought bc of my complicated thoughts on the way the literary/publishing world looks at and treats genre writing blah blah blah....)

At the SAME show, though, our teacher had brought along a friend, who is also a teacher at the community college. Said friend works for the theatre department and recognized me from volunteering to act at a one-day event last semester for Killian's playwriting class. Like this was an event where I was acting for MAYBE a grand total of fifteen minutes. And she basically said "HEY YOU'RE REALLY GOOD, WHY HAVEN'T I SEEN YOU AT ANY OF THE AUDITIONS?" So then I chatted with her some about how I've done a lot of theatre over the years but time/jobs/money meant I haven't had a chance to in a long time...

But now my job is a 9-5! So I gave her my number and I'm now basically the understudy for if/when someone drops out of the productions currently going on. Apparently they have a lot of issues with people dropping suddenly so it's likely that I'll end up doing something next semester! Which is good cuz like. Damn, do I love the theatre, and I've missed it A LOT.

I dunno just having two different people being really impressed about my creative work in a short time was really, really mood/ego boosting? I dunno. When I last did theater in Pittsburgh I ended up feeling really burnt out by the exhausting sense of always having to hunt for work, feeling like I wasn't good enough, etc... And last year I was struggling a lot with feeling like all my writing was futile/unwanted/etc... So having people remember me and be super complimentary was. Nice.

#state of the liz #long post under cut