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#more music that reminds me of nigel

opreaadriann · 1 month

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Weekly Update - Apr 27, 2024

Hello, Nigel Profite voters! Profitists? I’m here after a pretty big week of writing. Unfortunately, this week has been a crazy combination of good and bad news for me, luckily allowing me to concentrate a lot on High School Revenge.

Let’s start off with the important bit. I’ve written 12k words this week. Yes, you’ve heard that right. I’ve completely finished the homecoming party event, which was huge, bizarre, and full of choices. Though my writing pace has been amazing, it only happened because some bad stuff happened irl. I just lost my job, so I had a lot of time between applying for jobs and staring at the ceiling to work on this. What I’m trying to say is that you shouldn’t expect this speed under normal circumstances, since I think the 4k a week from before was more realistic. So, please don’t pray for my continued unemployment just so I could finish the book faster haha.

An interesting thing I’ve worked on this week is setting up special separate screens in the Stats menu for all of the targets, where I give a brief physical description and remind you of their role in the Tragedy. I think this will help if you ever wonder what someone like Vivian or Connor did back then. Since I’ve also made Burt spy on them all, you’ll also gain access to some special info, where you see some of their presumed traits, likes, dislikes, and related skills (i.e music or baseball). I will also add here in the future the clues you get that will help in your upcoming revenge.

As I’ve already said, I’ve also finished the homecoming party event that happens in the first week of school. It’s around 20k words, which is just slightly longer than the whole 2nd chapter. I think I’ve made it a fun experience with all of our weird targets and I hope you will have fun with it once it’s released!

In terms of what I’ve got left for the chapter, I’ve only got to write random events now, some initial relationship and hobby events, and the actual homecoming event. If things go well, in around 1 month everything should be done. Unless I start writing really long separate paths for each RO for homecoming. If I do that, it might take like 1 month and a half or something.

#high school revenge #interactive fiction #if wip #romance #interactive game #choicescript #update

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bi-bard · 1 year

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I Would’ve Stayed till Death Took Me Out but Then You Fucked Up and Gave Me the Gun - Nigel Imagine [Charlie Countryman]

Title: I Would’ve Stayed till Death Took Me Out but Then You Fucked Up and Gave Me the Gun

Pairing: Nigel X Reader

Word Count: 1,038 words

Warning(s): kidnapping, violence, use of gun

Summary: [Inspired by "One More Shot" by Cil] (Y/n) allows themself to get swept up in Nigel's world. All they asked for in return was commitment and love. When he fails to meet those expectations because of his chance to find Gabi again, (Y/n) is prepared to remind him of their deal.

Author's Note: The love I have for this song is unmatched.

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Before I met Nigel, I couldn't have imagined doing something like this.

But if being Nigel taught me anything, it was that many of us were capable of many things that we never imagined doing.

I looked around at the small apartment and sighed. I would call this place the beginning of the end for Nigel and me, but I hadn't even met Nigel before he stayed here.

No, this was the small apartment above the restaurant where Nigel first heard Gabi play. The music that saved his life.

I wanted so desperately to hate Gabi. It felt like it was right to want that. But even when I was at my worst and burning photos and screaming in empty rooms just to hear the echo so it could validate my anger, I couldn't. She was beyond innocent in this case.

Nigel and I met after he was forced out of Bucharest.

He was charming.

He could hold power in any room he walked into. He forced my attention to focus on him.

I had never had someone view me the way that Nigel said he did. I never felt like a person that people chose. I was someone that they settled for.

In reality, Nigel was no different. But I'd damned if I said that he didn't make it seem like that.

He offered me gifts after we met. He explained that I deserved more than I was given, and he wanted to make up the difference.

The first time he kissed me, he said that it was impulsive. That he couldn't stop himself any longer. And I believed him. I really believed him.

And then, he brought me back to Bucharest.

He told me that he wanted to show me the world. Another part of those beautiful things that he claimed that I deserved.

That was when I learned of Gabi. His wife.

His trip was never meant to be a gift for me. There was no intention of showing me the world or offering me what "society had failed to". It was all an attempt for him to get his wife to come back to him.

When I found out, I was confused. Then, I was angry.

That anger drove me. Drove me to meet Gabi and hear the story of her and Nigel. Drove me to find the very restaurant she told me about. Drove me to place Nigel in a chair, restrained, in the very apartment that I saw as an evil starting point.

And now, I was here.

I placed a rose on a shelf nearby. Just so I knew where it was.

I heard shifting behind me.

"Good evening, my love," I said as I turned to face him. "Sorry for the rope but it is necessary."

"What are you doing, (Y/n)?"

"I called it a favor, but I'm certain it's far more selfish than that."

"A favor," he repeated. "To who?"

I felt a smirk pull at the corner of my lips. "Gabi."

Nothing had stoked my anger like the scoff that slip through his lips.

"No embarrassment," I asked. "I just told you that I know you were using this trip as an excuse to get back with your wife, who has no desire for you, and you're laughing."

"Let me go," he replied. "We can talk about this, darling. Don't make a crazy mistake."

"Crazy..."

I chuckled.

"I'm just doing what you taught me. Let one person fuck over, then the whole world will."

"Darling..."

The nickname made my stomach churn. There was a time when it would make my heart flutter and my face warm up. Now, it just reminded me that I was an escape. A coping mechanism. I wasn't loved. I was convenient.

"Come on... let me go."

"No."

He glared at me. "Do you think something like this will have no consequences?"

"Have you not figured out that none of your men tried to stop me? You don't think I could do something like this without help, do you?"

"What the fuck did you do?"

"I can be very convincing," I shrugged. "Do you like the venue I chose? I thought it was very symbolic. Only took a quick sob story to get into."

There was a pause between us. His eyes scanned me. I smiled as he did, reaching back to grab the gun that I had tucked in the waistband in the back of my pants.

I held it by my side.

"Let me go, darling," Nigel spoke up again. "Let's have a conversation. No need to overreact."

"You are not giving me a lecture on overreacting," I stopped him.

His jaw clenched.

"I loved you. God, I loved you so much. You were so good at convincing me that I was the only person you loved. I never felt so wanted. And then, you had to fuck everything up. Your desire for control screwed up every good thing I had. How fucking selfish of you."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, well, then that changes everything," I said sarcastically.

I stepped forward slowly, scanning my eyes along his body as I did. I rested my free hand on one of his shoulders.

I leaned down and kissed him softly.

I remembered when kissing him felt like the most beautiful, passionate thing in the world. Maybe it still was. Maybe that was my problem. My passion could cloud my head. It made it easy for me to get swept up and believe in true love, but it made it hurt so much worse when I crashed into the ground again.

I waited until he started to kiss me back before I pulled away.

I gently grinned. "We could've been so beautiful."

I stepped back.

Nigel gave up on stopping me.

I lifted my arm up and fired a shot into his chest. Right through his heart.

I tucked the gun in the back of my pants before grabbing the rose that I had brought. I place it in the waistband of his pants, just enough for the rose to stand up.

"Goodbye, my love."

I left soon after that.

Nothing was more disappointing than having to accept that sometimes love could be ruined so quickly.

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#nigel imagine #nigel x reader #nigel fanfiction #charlie countryman imagine #charlie countryman fanfiction #charlie countryman x reader #mads mikkelsen imagine #mads mikkelsen x reader #mads mikkelsen fanfiction #imagine #fanfiction #x reader #nigel charlie countryman imagine #nigel charlie countryman fanfiction #nigel charlie countryman x reader

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mllermanda · 5 months

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KND COMMUNITY QUESTIONS CHALLENGE

Found this from user @arudan and wanted to take my shot at it since it's been an long while since I talked about KND (Aka Codename Kids Next Door)

When did you start watching the show?

Based on my memory, I remembered watching the show around 2002/2003 so right at the very beginning. I remembered watching a lot of the show when it came out and have a lot of vivid memories with the older seasons so with my calculations in mind, I would had been around 5-6 years old. Damn.

Favorite season?

Uh with that said, none of the seasons for me felt out of place at all and have their good and bad ones. Even when re-watching the series over again, I don't have one that stands out to mind. So in this case, all of the seasons are my favorite.

Favorite episode?

Remembered seeing this episode when it first came out and it's still an core memory to me which now looking it up, I did not realize it was an Season 6 episode and thought it was earlier; Operation: G.I.R.L.F.R.I.E.N.D.. It was one of the only episodes that has surprised me personally and affected how I view Nigel/Lizzie since I'll be honest, I thought their fate would be similar to 2/5 and 4/3.

Honorable mentions that I want to add here are Operation: S.P.R.O.U.T. (The humor with Numbuh 4 "dying" from eating healthy an A+ for me), Operation: L.I.Z.Z.I.E. (The relationships between the 1st couple in question with the other members of Sector V was very interesting and the dynamic in the episodes where fun), Operation: M.A.U.R.I.C.E. (Maurice is an good character and he makes the episode pretty solid along with an Number 5 themed episode which is always nice), Operation: N.A.U.G.H.T.Y. (Solid holiday episode that I have most memory off since I owned it on DVD and it reminds me how much I like the series), Operation: T.H.E.-F.L.Y. (Really liked the different format they went for the episode for the fly and its nice to learn more about Sector V just based on visuals and music), and Operation: C.A.T.S. (Mr.Huggykins is the star of this episode)

Hated episode?

There's a couple of episodes in mind that I don't like cause it's forgettable or cause an character is annoying but at least the top two that come in mind that I don't really like is Operation: T.R.I.C.Y.C.L.E. and Operation: L.E.A.D.E.R. Due to Lizzie and Tommy (episodes in question featuring them as more important than normal) they become really annoying to watch.

Honorable mentions that I'm adding are, Operation: P.O.O.L. (Mainly cause they tried to make Numbuh 2 Alternative version funny when he's not); Operation: C.A.B.L.E.-T.V. (For the Baby jokes); Operation: W.H.I.T.E.H.O.U.S.E. (Forgettable); Operation: B.U.T.T. (Weird but even then, not that memorable either)

Favorite character?

Easily, Numbuh 5 as the best for me though generally I love most of the cast in the series. Still hold an nice nostalgia to me and can watch each of the main members greatly as each of them have solid episodes as main characters.

Did you cry when you watch OP INTERVIEWS?

I did got sad when seeing it as its an strong episode on its own though I was more sad of losing my nice dreams with the series since it was an obvious final episode.

Funniest moment?

Numbuh 4 with his anger with Rainbow Monkeys are an relatable yet fun treat for me. he's definitely the most comedic to me when it comes with the humor of the show in regards towards his reactions towards things, his answers with certain questions and his general demeanor.

Other funny moments in the show is in regards with the reactions the adults and kids make towards certain characters when they do an dumb action/ say something obviously stupid, Henrich as an character has humorous moments that I enjoy too and Ed, Edd n Eddy cameo appearance in The Grim Adventures of the KND as they were most respectful towards Sector V and summarized what they do perfectly in an harsh yet funny manner.

Saddest moment?

When the show ended since my dreams disappeared.

Otherwise though, it's hard to say that its not the moments that are sad, it's what happens afterwards or what happens in the show that makes it sadder for me.

Examples of this being but not limited too:

Lizzie and Nigel breaking up with each other (Long term it makes sense that they break up but it's how it happens that makes it sad)

In Operation: G.R.O.W.-U.P. at the very end when Father gets dumped in cold ice-cream and is just shiving on the ground while Sector V cheers that they defeated the bad guy. While I'll be honest, its funny how messed up that is in hindsight and even though he is the villain in that episode (and in the series) it was still sad and the delivery the voice actor and animators did with it was excellent.

For Numbuh 3 in the episode Operation: N.A.U.G.H.T.Y. on how she's the only one out of the group that considers giving gifts while everyone else forgets. I can relate to her in that sense and just felt bad for her for the episode with that in mind. Even with the present that Numbuh 4 gives her (which is sad in general cause it's not even full fries, it's like 4 out of the whole thing) , it's lucky that Numbuh 3 saw it more as an nice thing than I did.

The final episode for it ended with an follow up to an sequel series that was unfortunately never created. Along with the unknown fate that the Delightful Children from Down the Lane ended up having.

Operation: Z.E.R.O. for learning about how the Delightful Children from Down the Lane ended up the way they did.

Favorite KND artist?

This is hard to pick since weirdly enough I do not follow many KND artists despite liking the series myself. I think it's one of those things that I don't interact with the fandom much so I had to think on it.

At least where it stands it's an tie between these three (Using Instagram to find them faster though I do know they all having different socials too)

Instagram user @numbuh_97

Instagram user @pennywhistle444

Instagram user @danishi8785

Favorite canon KND ship?

Lizzie/Nigel even though 3/4 and 2/5 are favorites as well. All three ships had a lot of focus in the series that showed different aspects of the type of people they like and how they handle each other which was nice to learn.

Favorite headcanon KND ship?

N/A since I don't usually have headcanons for ships.

What’s one thing you love about the fandom?

The fanart produced by people all around and the different ideas that get from watching the same content. Sometimes I don't agree with the fanart but it's nice to look at. The fanfictions with fandoms are pretty nice too though I rarely read it and don't read any from this series.

What’s one thing you hate about the fandom?

Can not say much for this fandom since I am not an active member but more information on this will be seen down below with this question: What’s one thing you wish would stop in the fandom?

Do you wish there were more die hard KND fans in the fandom?

Since I am not active I can not answer this full-heartly. However, if there was more fanart of the series that was easier to find, then yeah, that would be nice.

When did you start drawing KND art?

Middle school I believe and even then, most of those were private to self. Otherwise publicly posting it, early high school so like three years later.

How old were you when you started drawing KND art?

Redundant question as this would mean I would be around 11-12 when I started (middle school)

How old are you now and are you still drawing KND art?

Currently 26 years old but have not drawn KND art. Real answer is just no motivation to do so but want to try again (hopefully it can happen) I think the reason why I'm more scared of drawing from this show than some of the other ones I do is cause of my judgemental attitude with myself and feel like how inaccurate it is toward the character. That mixed with insecurities and commitment issues towards drawing the series.

What’s one thing you wish would stop in the fandom?

Hard to say that I'm not an active member in the KND fandom but I think in general, I wish people would not become hive-minds and attack others with no evidence. Malicious people with intended good intentions tend to be more harmful than they realized and will attack you at good timing, especially if you let them know your schedule ahead of time.

I have seen this a lot with various of other fandoms and touchy with from myself due to past experiences with an different fandom. Too scared to interact much from any fandom now cause of this issue and it sucks cause it fuels my trust issues I have in the first place.

Quick pick your favorite 2x4?

The weapon that covers people in hot sauce is the first that comes into mind (S.P.I.C.E.R.) Though in reality with really thinking about it, my favorite 2x4 technology is C.O.O.L.B.U.S or P.O.W.U.H.P.A.C.K since both seem useful.

What’s your Codename?

Uh, hard to say since I don't use one currently. For now, just for harmless fun it will be Codename N/A.

#codename knd #codename kids next door #KND COMMUNITY QUESTIONS CHALLENGE #text post #favorites #knd

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chartreuseian · 3 months

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First and Last Line Tag

rules: post the first and last lines of the last 10 fics you posted.

Thank you to @sarcasticsciencefictionwriter for the tag :)

1. Sturdy

“What do you think?”

“Keep yourself safe for me,” Helen said, offering a smile that was brilliant and breathtaking and beautiful before she turned, swiping something from the desk and walked out the door.

2. Mr & Mrs

Taking a deep breath, Nikola fixed his gaze on the ornate stained glass window that towered over the congregation muttering behind him.

“Think of it this way,” he murmured as they started down the dark stairs. “It’s not as if he can marry us off again.”

(So I sort of cheated on the first two because even though the final chapters aren't published, I've actually already written the epilogues for both so I used that)

3. Chasing Dragons

Nigel yawned, stretching as he tried his best to work out the kinks in his neck.

“That has never stopped her chasing them,” he murmured to himself when he was certain he was alone, a small smile curling his lips for a moment before his attention was once again captured by his own quest for dragons.

4. When Will Failed the Perception Test

It was too early to be awake, Will decided as he dragged himself into the kitchen.

WILL Sent 9:12pm Is that from our wedding!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

5. In pretty deep

Kate was, she decided, the very definition of uncomfortable.

Not to go all Magnus on the situation, but wonders would never cease…

6. (Not) Just another day

Henry was, admittedly, wandering the halls without much of a purpose.

He laughed at the image and the memory, feeling lighter than he had all day.

7. Anything good?

"We're going to be late," Erika said, doing her best to keep from tutting.

She let the other woman steer them towards the door, more than ready for a day of girl talk.

8. Almost but not quite

Helen realised faintly that her cheeks were aching, but the thought only made her smile more.

Not with the happy little smiles they both wore while they kept swaying softly to the music, holding each other through song change after song change after song change.

9. Not 1892 anymore

Arranging himself in what he hoped was a look of casual nonchalance, Nikola leaned against the wall as he waited for the telltale hum of the elevator to come to a stop.

He was deeply grateful that it was not 1892 anymore, that’s for sure.

10. The Push and Pull of Celestial Bodies

Nikola Tesla had, on reflection, made a great number of mistakes in his life.

Walking away had been a mistake, but right in this moment, it felt like the very best mistake he had ever made.

Once again, I'm late to the game so I think everyone has already been tagged (??!). If you haven't been, take this as my request to see all your lovely little starts and ends to remind me to go read your stuff (I need a distraction from the writing I should be doing but I don't wanna do).

#fanfic #writing #not me and my obsession with circular narratives #first line last line tag

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guaaa-camole · 2 years

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Like Minds snippet

let me post this small ficlet so it's out of my hand and i can stop dwelling on it...

Pairing: Reader's Choice!Jack/Nigel Colbie Rating: probably mature? Warning/Note: This is super self-indulgent, dramatic, messy, and extra. Can be read as Dark Alex!Jack, Real Templar!Jack, or Reader!Jack slash a very subby!Nigel. Yes, this fic is that unprincipled. I just wanted to appease my beloved Nigel's unhinged obsession. It's the whole point of this fic. Oh, and eng is not my native language. bgm

Nigel sometimes dreams of his Jack, not Alex, the real Jack. His spirit comes to Nigel as if it longs to spend time with him in his sleep, in his bed. Odd that the feeling of being held by him is nostalgic since they have never even met (in this life at least). But oh, Nigel is still certain it's his Jack. Wouldn't remotely entertain the idea of letting himself relax in that warmth otherwise. He can tell the two of them apart from miles away easily.

The thing is, it is always hazy in these dreams. Nigel feels like he is floating through his consciousness, drifting in the limbo between this reality and something else..., the preexistence perhaps? But their intimacy serves as his everlasting anchor, the weight that keeps his sanity intact, and a reminder that he's not deluded like Alex continuously believes.

With Jack's arms around him, he would be drunk on his scent of the winter forest, where they once galloped across together with swords raising high in their hands. He would relish the gentle touches of Jack's finger combing through his hair and the tender voice of Jack's sweet praises next to his ear, comforting him for how much pain and trouble he must've been enduring for the sake of them.

Jack even apologized on Alex's behave, which Nigel thought was just utterly ridiculous but endearing nonetheless.

And when Jack took him, it was an experience that could not be put into words lightly, as the sense of fulfillment was too intoxicating, being the implement for his knave's delight. There's nothing in this world that surpasses the thrill of submission, upon being called affectionately by him, "my dear little spade." It is a title he takes pride in unreservedly. Nigel is, and always will be, a tool of his use after all.

When they were close to climax, which often indicates the near end of his dream and another parting of theirs, they had this almost ritualistic routine where Jack would whisper into Nigel's ear alongside his intense breathing,

"It's alright. We will be united... Tell me why that is, Nigel..."

And he could do nothing but reply- perhaps more like sobbing out at this point, "Because it's fated, Jack..." while holding onto him like a lifeline, staring into the distance through the veil of his tears. He sensed his other half's presence fading away, leaving him but a shell of fortitude to heal inside alone.

Upon waking, he felt the templar's glory searing on his palm, precisely where it was joined with Jack's earlier.

-----end-----

I can't believe I actually wrote this... Literally my first ficlet in eng. (btw, if anyone wants to take this idea and expand it into smt more, pls let me know.

Credit to Tom's amazing performance as Nigel, Korzeniowski's Table for Two as ambient music, and a big shout-out to my muse(gn) @den-dumm🧡

#like minds #murderous intent #like minds fic #murderous intent fic #Jack/Nigel #nigel colbie #reader insert #could be #tom sturridge

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mrmoviemakr · 1 year

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Prehistoric Planet review: #1 - Deserts

While “Deserts” focuses on my least favorite biome, who would’ve thought it would be the best episode of the season showcasing dinosaurs with unique adaptations for survival in these desolate areas. We start with a bang with a herd of male Dreadnoughtus traveling to their mating grounds away from their forest dwelling that is crowded with hundreds of females. A “clash-of-the-titans” spectacle ensures when two males fight for the right to mate with some fantastic music to go with it, showcasing the size and power of these sauropods. Makes you want to bang the air like beating a drum to it.

I loved the sequence featuring the Mononykus, a small Mongolian dinosaur that reminds you of a roadrunner with features like owls in how it uses its facial disc to sense prey since it doesn’t have ears. I was introduced to this dinosaur in “Chased by Dinosaurs” with Nigel Marven and it was completely different from what is depicted here. Looked more like Ornithomimus and I was under that impression for quite a while till then. I would love to see this in “Jurassic World Evolution 2” one day.

We have another spectacular sequence, showcasing a watering hole covered with hundreds of dinosaurs getting their fill of water before it dries up. Not just herbivores are there, but also carnivores including a Tarbosaurus, an Asian cousin to Tyrannosaurus. Watching it appear on a sand dune from a distance with other dinosaurs busy drinking is my favorite shot of the entire season. The sequence also reminded me of the water truce from Jon Favreau’s Jungle Book. I just love how both predator and prey would put their differences aside to have some water.

We move to North Africa for a mating ground for Barbaridactylus, pterosaurs with impressive bony crests. It shows how dominant males would fight for their place among the smaller females, but what’s more impressive is that some males don’t get that big nor grow those large crests and tend to be sneaky. It was hilarious watching a larger male mistake the sneaky male by displaying. Was it showing off by accident or on purpose? Who knows. But the lesson here is that there’s more to impressing a girl than with size and strength, but being sneaky is not the best tactic.

Our last sequence is more serene as we watch a herd of hadrosaurs called Secernosaurus travel through sand dunes made of gypsum to parts where there’s more food. It was interesting to see them use the stars to guide them at night. I know one or some animals to do that but can’t think of it. Another cool moment was them licking off droplets of water from the fog of seawater as a source of water.

Another thing I appreciate is how the show doesn’t end with the typical extinction event like in “Walking with Dinosaurs” or “When Dinosaurs Roamed America.” Sure, there’s that dreadfulness when the final episode fades to black that it’s happened but looking back at each episode and comparing with the finale of “Walking With,” the world is still full of life at the time and not choking to death from increased volcanic activity. I don’t know if we will see that in the future, but it’s doubtful. And that concludes my reviews for the first season and look forward to traveling back to the prehistoric planet next Monday. 😉

3.5/4 stars.

P.S. It was interesting seeing the Dreadnoughtus expose gular sacs to impress females like frigatebirds and anole lizards. 😉

#prehistoricplanet #prehistoric planet #dinosaur #deserts #apple tv #hans zimmer #david attenborough #documentary

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fleshadept · 2 years

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smth I find interesting is their differences in like the Definition of murder. like stede didn't directly kill either of the badmintons, but he still thinks of himself as a vicious murderer. but Ed only directly killed ONE person, but indirectly killed soo many ppl, like when Jack says he lit the boat on fire, and he says technically the fire killed those people. my theory is stede hates himself, and has the whole time, so unconsciously he's grasping onto this as a reason for it, and Ed is trying to never think about those people he killed so he doesn't hate himself any more than he has to.... idk I just think its an interesting character detail :-]

the interesting thing to me is that stede did not feel bad At All for "killing" nigel. like he straight up told the elder guy that. the dude asked if he felt bad for killing him and he said Not really, he sucked even as a kid! and figured out that really the reason he felt bad was because he felt inadequate and nigel reminded him he'd abandoned his family (nigel reminding him of this is also how we, the audience, are introduced to the idea that stede left them for piracy) which made him feel guilty about THAT, so what you said about him displacing his self-hatred onto this is pretty accurate.

so he didn't really feel bad about being a murderer. it's why he could leave mind-nigel behind on the shore at the end of that episode. stede isn't as averse to murder as he is to violence, per se. we see in his flashbacks that violence has been associated with masculinity for his whole life, the specific kind of masculinity he's been excluded from, that violence turned on him as a result of his exclusion. also it seems like he just thinks it's gross lol

when chauncey died, it had the same effect: chauncey forced him to remember that he abandoned his family, he didn't really give a shit about chauncey dying, but he remembered what he'd done "to" his family (assuming they were worse off without him) and felt like he needed to resolve that. it had already been on the forefront of his anxieties from learning he had been declared dead, so chauncey just pushed him over the edge, so to speak.

it's telling that when he says "at some point, a man's gotta face the music for the things he's done and the people he's hurt" we get a shot of nigel dying at "the things he's done," a relatively neutral statement, and a shot of his family at "and the people he's hurt," because from his perspective, he really only cares that he (possibly) hurt mary and the kids.

there are some inconsistencies that i hope they explore later, like stede burning that ship of aristocrats alive but looking taken aback when calico jack said ed burned a ship of people alive (with the crew still trapped inside? perhaps that was the difference).

ed's philosophy is harder to parse because we haven't spent as much time with him. he clearly sees violence as monstrous. the only person he's ever killed was his dad, which he did as a last resort to keep his mom safe after his dad was violent, and we don't know for how long that went on. after that he "always outsourced the big job," which seems like a pretty straightforward way to rationalize necessary violence. he didn't skin that guy, fang did. same end, different means.

the fact that he constructed the myth of the kraken around killing his dad is VERY interesting. not only does he outsource actual killing to his crew or other external forces, he took his one true murder and turned it into a horror story he uses to scare people, saying it's the only thing that scared him. it's hard to tell if he genuinely believed in the kraken until stede's fuckery triggered his real memory or if he knew the whole time. either way, he clearly was traumatized by killing his dad and that led him to his current philosophy, whatever the extent of that is.

looking forward to season two, it seems like they're foreshadowing ed dropping this philosophy entirely by not just going back to being blackbeard but declaring himself the kraken, the part of himself he invented to rationalize his one and only murder. which, of course, implies he'll be doing more murdering. we'll see!

#giddy over s2 for real #sorry this was a whole fucking essay but it was an interesting question i've thought a lot about #especially stede's philosophy #i hope we get more direct ed POV next season because this one was very stede and the crew POV which ofc makes sense BUT-#anyway #stede bonnet #edward teach #blackbonnet #ofmd #our flag means death #cricket answers #cricket chirps

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ailendolin · 1 year

Text

Whump Wednesday - 54 - BBC Ghosts

Title: Starving [AO3]

Characters: Fanny, Thomas, Nigel and Jemima

Prompt: Fanny used to love to sing but can't bring herself to anymore thanks to her mother and George. - Prompt sent in by the lovely @magicaltear.

A/N: This is set in the same universe as my fic The Club . It's not necessarily to have read it to understand this one but it provides some context for how the Singing Club started. There are also some spoilers for series 4.

Prompts are open, so if you want me to write a story for you as well just send me an ask with the fandom, characters and your prompt. I’m writing for Ghosts, Yonderland, Horrible Histories and Bill at the moment.

Six Idiots Whump Wednesday / Fluff Friday masterlist is here.

————

Starving

The last thing Fanny expected at the end of that very long day was for Thomas to ask her to join a Singing Club she hadn’t even known existed.

“Forgive me if I’m overstepping,” he said as they happened to be walking back to their respective rooms together, exhausted and ready to get some rest after spending the last few hours trying to come up with the right way to apologise to Alison. “But it seems to me that you actually wanted to participate in our Sorry Song earlier …”

He turned to her with those large, expressive eyes of his, leaving the sentence hanging with an inquisitive look on his face. Fanny lifted her chin a little higher and steeled her face to sell a lie. “I did not. I’m not even sure that … abomination of yours can even be called a song.”

“And yet you knew the words when Kitty faltered,” Thomas pointed out, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Because I was subjected to them for hours, Thomas,” Fanny said with an air of exasperation. “Anyone would remember the lyrics after that.”

Thomas looked down at the floor for a moment before he sighed softly, almost as if he was disappointed. “Well, for what it’s worth: I’m glad you took part in it even if the song didn’t end up working in our favour. And if you ever feel like singing again, you’re more than welcome to join our Singing Club.”

“Singing Club?” Fanny asked, feeling intrigued despite herself. “I wasn’t aware that Pat had organised one.”

“Oh no, sorry, it’s not an official club. I should have said that,” Thomas hurried to explain with an apologetic smile. “It’s just something Nigel, Jemima and I started a while ago. We get together two or three times a week in Jemima’s pantry and sing together. Nothing fancy, just … simple songs. Folk songs and the like, you know?”

His lips pulled up into a soft smile and his gaze grew a little distant as he remembered something Fanny was not privy to. There was a fondness in his eyes that she would have never expected him to feel towards Jemima and NIgel of all people, and it suddenly hit her that he looked happier in that moment than she had seen him in a very long time. It reminded her of a time, long ago now, when something as simple and common as music had brought a similar joy to her as well.

Feeling her heart begin to ache with sudden longing, Fanny firmly pushed those thoughts away. “I see.”

Thomas blinked as if waking from a dream. His smile shifted from soft to self-conscious and he fiddled with his hands as he so often did when he was nervous.

“You don’t have to join us, of course,” he said quietly, looking down at his restless hands rather than meeting her eyes. “But we’d be glad to have you.”

He sounded so utterly genuine that Fanny felt her carefully erected façade crumble a little.

“Thank you, Thomas,” she said, a little awkwardly. “That is a very kind offer but seeing as I don’t make a habit of singing I’m afraid I’ll have to decline it.”

Thomas looked disappointed but not surprised. “Well, if you ever change your mind, you know where to find us.”

He gave her one last flickering smile before he bid her goodnight with a perfectly elegant bow and faded through the door to his room. For a heartbeat or two, Fanny stood there in the middle of the empty hallway and remembered soft piano notes, wintry lyrics and the feeling of being free.

She shook her head at herself and willed her feet to move on from silly things such as carols and choirs. They were for other people, not for her.

Not anymore.

————

Despite her best efforts not to think about it, Thomas’s Singing Club refused to leave Fanny’s thoughts over the next few weeks. She found herself walking past the pantry more often than she usually did, straining to hear faint notes from behind the door and chiding herself for feeling disappointed when there was nothing but silence. It wasn’t that she actually wanted to join the club – definitely not that. She was just curious about its odd constellation of participants. At least that’s what she kept telling herself as she lay in bed late at night and found herself humming soft melodies she hadn’t dared to give voice to in over a hundred years.

There had been a time once when she wouldn’t have hesitated to sing her heart out. Fanny still remembered the joy of sitting beside her mother at the piano and singing with her. They were the fondest childhood memories she had of her mother – before proper manners, unmet expectations and financial disaster had ruined their relationship and turned it into something cold and full of resentment.

“Stephanie, would you please stop that incessant humming. It’s not appropriate.”

A sigh. “Yes, Mother.”

“Are you whistling to yourself again?”

Biting her tongue. “No, Mother.”

“We don’t need you singing along now, do we, Stephanie?”

Swallowing hurt feelings and grinding her teeth. “No, Mother.”

Fanny did not remember when exactly singing became something secret that had to be hidden from the world unless it was done properly – which meant in a choir where her voice became one of many and got lost in a sea of soaring music. But she did remember when she banned it from her life completely. Even now, so many years later, her heart still ached at the memory of watching her handwritten sheet music go up in flames until it was lost forever. Her marriage to George had changed her for the worst in many ways but the loss of music in her life, the loss of her voice, was one she still found herself mourning the most.

“You call that singing? A mangy street cat can yowl better than you,” he’d once said to her.

Her husband had always been awfully good at hitting her where it hurt the most. Fanny had tried to ignore him at first but his constant remarks eventually wore her down and became so unbearable that she’d destroyed every songbook she owned in a fit of anger and frustration.

An already quiet and joyless house became almost deadly silent after that.

Fanny wondered if Thomas had witnessed that terrible moment of pain and fury in her life all those years ago, wondered if maybe that was the reason why he had asked her to join his Singing Club and not someone else. Kitty would have been the logical choice, really – she loved to sing and did it with such open and unrestrained joy that Fanny couldn’t help but envy her sometimes. No one had ever taken her voice away from her, had silenced her with glances and glares.

But Thomas hadn’t asked Kitty – he had asked her, and Fanny couldn’t deny that a part of her desperately wanted to take him up on his offer. But days had passed since he made it. It would be awkward for her to change her mind now, not to mention that he might not have been entirely serious when he’d proposed the idea to her. Perhaps he’d only asked her so he could mock her like George had and–

Fanny firmly put a stop to that thought. Thomas might be many things but he was not someone who would ridicule anyone for doing something they enjoyed – unlike her and the others who never managed to hide their disdain when he took to the stage and performed one of his poems. It was admirable, really, Fanny found herself thinking, that even after two centuries of meeting nothing but criticism and thinly veiled contempt for his work Thomas still hadn’t given up on it. He shook off their groans and muttered mockery in a way Fanny had never been able to with George or her mother, and it made her appreciate him and his poetry, awful as it might be, a little more.

Still, she couldn’t just turn up at Singing Club out of nowhere, could she? Thomas might welcome her presence but would the others? Had he even told Nigel and Jemima about his generous invitation?

Fanny resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands in a very unladylike manner. She hated that something as simple as walking through a door could be so hard for her, that the mere idea of allowing herself to be even just a little vulnerable in front of others made her chest feel almost painfully tight. She wanted to experience the same joy Kitty felt when she sang at the top of her lungs and the passion that drove Thomas to compose something new every day.

And yet she couldn’t even bring herself to fade through the door in front of her.

“Just be quiet, Stephanie,” her mother used to say.

“Leave the talking to me,” George had murmured before greeting men that were just as flawed as he was with a smile that was as fake as their marriage.

Their voices were louder than the longing inside her heart; always had been, always would be. Fanny had resigned herself to that a long time ago.

Pursing her lips, she resolutely turned away from the door and the soft singing coming from behind it.

————

It was pure chance that had her passing by the pantry a few days later on her way to visit her pets in the garden. It wasn’t the sound of singing that made her stop mid-step this time but that of laughter. Soft giggles filtered through the old wood, so different from Jemima’s usual quiet and serious manner. They were joined by soft, unrestrained chuckles that sounded carefree in a way Thomas rarely was when he took part in one of Pat’s clubs. Nigel’s breathless laughter completed the beautiful symphony.

Turning towards the door, Fanny listened despite the voice of her mother telling her to go and George’s urging her to tell the three off for being too loud.

For the first time in decades, she chose to ignore them.

She leaned closer to the door, drawn towards the joy spilling out from behind it. It reminded her of her children who used to hide in this very pantry, thinking no one would be able to hear their giggling from inside it. Fanny had, of course, and yet she’d chosen to turn a blind eye to their antics and keep George away so they could play their games in peace. Her husband had never liked the sound of children in the house, and knowing that she had done everything in her power to ensure that her children’s voices wouldn’t be stifled like hers had been.

It was one of only a few acts of rebellion she had allowed herself.

Fanny wondered if Jemima’s singing had drawn them to the pantry back then. Perhaps she had been their imaginary friend, and maybe the little plague girl had considered them her friends as well until they’d grown out of the age of playing silly games in cupboards.

The thought saddened her more than Fanny would like to admit.

The laughter beyond the door in front of her slowly faded away, pulling her back to the present.

“Can we sing a song now?” she heard Jemima ask softly.

“Of course, my lady,” Nigel said, his voice still vibrating with laughter. “What song would you like to sing?”

Jemima was quiet for a moment, obviously thinking about it. “The one about the fish in the sea.”

“Of course you do,” Thomas said, sounding unbelievably fond. He cleared his throat and began to sing. It wasn’t a particularly beautiful or breath-taking song but it was sung with such obvious joy that Fanny found herself closing her eyes and taking it in as if she was starving. She supposed she was, in a way; had been for a very long time.

One song turned into another and then another. Before Fanny knew it the old grandfather clock in the front hallway chimed the hour. She gasped, too surprised to stifle the sound as she realised that she’d been standing in front of the pantry for almost an hour and was already late for Food Club. She hurried to the common room and was immediately met with the Captain’s disapproving glare when she entered. “You’re late.”

“Well, I’m here now,” Fanny said and took her place next to him as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “Shall we begin?”

As Kitty launched into yet another story about her least favourite food, Fanny found her thoughts straying back to gentle melodies and quiet laughter.

————

“You should join us next time,” Thomas said casually as they made their way through the garden later that day because Robin wanted to show them something in the woods.

“I’m afraid I have no idea what you mean,” Fanny said, knowing exactly what he was alluding to. She quickened her steps in the hopes of catching up to the Captain and Pat ahead of her and escaping what would undoubtedly be an uncomfortable conversation.

Thomas, however, was not so easily deterred. “You’re welcome to linger outside the door, of course, but we’d rather you come inside and join us. Jemima would love to meet you, actually.”

“Really?” Fanny couldn’t help but ask in surprise. The knowing smile on Thomas’s face was enough to make her realise her mistake. With one small word she had all but admitted to loitering in the hallway by the pantry, just like Thomas had said. She had no idea how he knew that she’d been there but there clearly was no use in denying it now.

So she faced him and told him honestly, “I don’t think I’d be a good fit for your club, Thomas.”

“I disagree,” he said plainly.

Fanny heaved a heavy sigh that must have come across as annoyed because Thomas’s face fell and he backtracked, babbling about how sorry he was for overstepping and that he didn’t mean to force her into something that she didn’t want to do and–

“All right,” Fanny said, if only to stop him talking. Thomas’s head snapped up, his eyes impossibly wide with hope, making her realise that there was no turning back now. She suddenly felt her heart in her throat. “I’ll come to your club but I make no promises of singing.”

Thomas nodded eagerly. “Of course. We start at four tomorrow and I promise we will be done before Film Club starts.”

Fanny managed to swallow around the lump in her throat. “Very well.”

Thomas beamed at her.

“I promise you won’t regret it,” he said before he skipped ahead of her down the path, humming happily to himself as Robin led them deeper into the woods.

Feeling lighter than she had in years, Fanny watched him go and allowed herself to smile.

#fanny button #Thomas thorne #bbc ghosts #nigel the plague ghost #jemima the plague ghost #bbc ghosts fanfic #my fic #whump wednesday #wwff challenge #bbc ghosts spoilers

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the-fiction-witch · 1 year

Text

Haunted

Media Bright star

Character Samuel Brawne

Couple Samuel X Reader

Rating Sweet + Spooky

Concept Unstoppable Cries

I sat in my study trying desperately to work, but my pen had seldom touched paper. I was distracted by everything and nothing. I pulled my eyes from the paper in desperation for inspiration looking out the three tall arched diamond cut windows that looked out across the rolling hills even if they were grey and desilet this time of year the sky the colour of charcoal with that horrible smell of perticorn and damp fabric. It had been raining for a week now with no sign of it subsiding any time soon. The low clouds blocked the sun, the sky and even the sweet freshness of the breeze. The harsh wind whistled through causing odd bangs and clatter in the garden, on the porch and such like even if the house was as shut up as possible causing even more darkness and dampness. They had said in the paper that this storm would be here a while locking down the local town. My candle on my desk flickered dancing in reaction to the draft and my breaths but it lit across my blank paper work seeing to mock me at my inability to fill them. I turned away from my desk and from the window looking into my office. The fireplace still burning by some miracle would have thought the weather would have extinguished it by now. A few small trinkets lining the mantle with the two large pillar candles on each edge the wax dripping from years of use and replacements. The mirror gave me no comfort. I had often considered smashing it but I had enough bad luck. My violins lined the wall but most of them were so dusty and out of tune it would be a murder to play them. I forced myself from my chair hoping for peace from this room. I stepped into the corridor and immediately my mind begged for solitude, the sounds of the storm continued in the rest of the dark damp house with now the sounds of clattering rushing around, screaming, shouting, music playing all of it already giving me a headache. I sighed and headed down to the kitchen where the maid worked on dinner "AHH hello Mr brawne" she smiled

"Hello." I sighed getting myself a drink

"Awful storm isn't it sir?"

"Yes it is, where's Nigel?' I asked her

"Oh his usual place sir"

"Alright, I'll go deal with him. You go up and see to Lilly she's screaming like a banshee' I told her taking my drink and heading back into the house I went to the living room seeing it empty the fire burning but little else going on everything sat as it usually was but the door open to the conservatory. I went out seeing the small metal framed conservatory with the wooden floor rugs, and sweet wooden furniture the storm battering the garden outside.

"Papa!" Nigel smiled running over and hugging my leg

I gave his head a pat trying not to look at him as much as I loved him … I struggled to face him. He reminds me of his mother so much. He even sits in here watching the rain just like his mother.

"I missed you papa"

"Yeah, I've missed you too Nigel. What are you up to?"

"Just watching the rain"

"Alright, go in in before you get a cold" I told him he nodded and happily hurried inside, likely going to his playroom, so I shut up the conservatory and headed back into the house myself even if I could still hear that stupid screaming! Fine, I'll do it myself. I headed upstairs to the nursery seeing the crib in the middle of the dusty room I shut the door for a moment unable to take the horrible screams "Lilly darling please. It's just the rain" I told her but still she screamed so I went to her crib picking her up letting her rest on my shoulder "please just stop screaming little one. Please. Just stop." I pleaded with her "enough. Enough screaming enough crying just go to sleep okay go to sleep and he storm will be over" I told her and she silenced her tears so I set her back in her crib to rest with her blanket. I quickly and quietly left her room not the only sounds the storm outside and the sweet music. I couldn't help my smile Going down to my favorite room in the house, the sweet grand windows looking out to the garden, a large door to the porch locked up tightly, the fire long extinguished in here, not even a single candle on the only light what came through the window, a layer of dust across the sofa when I ran my fingers across it, the sweet music playing the sound of ivory being tickled so skilfully, the black grand piano sat so perfectly on the rug with a few sweet pictures in frames across the top and on the stool. Her.

In her beautiful grey dress with sweet silver flowers her hair up in tight curls as usual playing her keys so perfectly humming along as she did. I sat on my usual chair watching her play for what felt like hours Still feeling my heart race as much as it did when we first met.

A crash of thunder broke across the sky making me jump at the flash of lightning and as it flashed she was gone. The music stopped. I was alone. In utter scilence.

"No. No no no bring her back. Please… please just one more song" I pleaded my tears welling up at the sight of the empty stool I made my way over sniffling my tears away as I sat on the stool looking at the sweet frames Nigel's drawings, the portrait from our wedding, and the sweet photo from when we bought the house her in my arms Nigel in her own him only being a baby at the the time. I stroked my fingers across the keys and slowly plaid the song I wrote for her for our engagement. But the song brought back memories, our first time meeting a Christmas when we were both due to play in the square as part of the town's celebrations, our engagement, our wedding, the day Nigel was born, when we bought this old house … and the memory that still haunts me her blood curdling screams still echoed in my mind then that haunting silence. The creak of our bedroom door, and she was gone. Without so much as a goodbye her body, cold and lifeless surrounded by her own blood.

"It's a girl sir" the maid told me holding Lilly on her arms,

I stopped playing leaning on the piano unable to hold back the wave of tears

"You shouldn't torture yourself Samuel" her sweet voice Cooes holding my hand sitting beside me on the stool

"What choice do I have. I deserve it"

"What happened wasn't your fault"

"If I hadn't wanted another baby so badly, you'd still be alive"

"You couldn't stop me from giving you a baby" she smiled resting her head on my shoulder "how's Nigel?"

"Growing like a weed, he's just like you"

"Does that sadden you Samuel?"

"... somewhat. I struggle to face him now, the older he gets the- the more he looks like you, the more he does the little things you used to. And that makes it hard for me to be with him without thinking of you"

"Don't blame him for that Samuel he needs your upmost love" she Cooes

"I know, it's just hard." I told her "I wish I could still have you here with me. I'd give anything in the world to have you back"

"I know, so would I" she smiled giving my head a kiss before she disappeared into my memory. The moment it did I heard the screaming and crying so I rolled my eyes and headed back towards the nursery but with every step my mind flooded with the memories of… that night.

"Please… please no. No I can't loose her too! Please!" My own voice echoed in my mind getting louder and louder until I reached the nursery. And I saw the crib where Lilly laid, my own body on her floor in desperation screaming, crying because hers had stopped. Hers had silenced. Never to begin again "no no please Lilly, Lilly please just breathe. Please. Please. Take a big breath for daddy please. Please Lilly! I can't loose you too. Please" I was manic, I was mad, all I wanted was for her to take a breath just one more, but it was far too late for that.

I forced back my tears going into the nursery looking at the empty crib, knowing she was long gone and yet her cries still haunt me.

"Papa? Are you okay?' Nigel asks

"I'm okay little boy just… thinking about your mother, and your sister"

"You loved my mummy very much didn't you?"

"I did, and I love you just as much I told him. Come on let's go to the kitchens grab a hot chocolate and watch the storm" I told him picking him up to hold him on my hip.

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after-nine-at-the-oasis · 25 days

Text

Agh crap xd

See I kind of want Isaac to tell Nigel but also not xd

Maybe the puritan will remind him of his love lol

Alberta o.o xD

HETTY XD

"My dear Isaac" STOPPP 😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️

Honeyyy he's gonna tell him isn't he xDD idk he might not

I don't think that's gonna put his mind at ease xD

Isaaaa xD

SIR

Maybe he just left xD

I mean it's a good question but- AH CRAP NIGEL LOOKS SUSPICIOUS

Isaac control your reactions more after this please xD

But hey he won't be here :D

YESS hallelujah :D

Isaaaac WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT CONTROLLING YOUR EXPRESSIONS

Sir 😭

Does Nigel even know he was the stripper xD

ISAAAAC

Okay he does know

That does make this worse but at least we don't have to explain xd

Yeah because that's a casual reaction Isaac 😑😐

Y'all I swear if I have to lose Jacob and Zach and Jerome and Asher, AND NIGEL AND ISAAC-

I'm gonna lose it

It'll be fine :))

It'll aallll be fiiiine

This has happened before (basically) with them and they'll be fiiiinee 😌😌😌

AH CRAP I HAD TO GO FOR A SECOND AND FORGOT I WAS HERE 😭

Auwgh gosh

At least with live TV I can just sit there and plug my ears and turn away so I can only see a tiny corner of the screen xd

With this I have control to pause it lol

Another 6 minutes after 25 minutes xD

AGH CRAP

He sees xd 😭

Isaac. You are not capable of a nonchalant reaction

Oof 😭😭💔😳 o.o

Y'all I'm stressingggg 😭😭

NO PLEASE RUN AWAY I NEED THE BREAK

AUAUUUGH 😭 y'all help I'm not gonna make it through this

Sir 💀 now is not the time xD

Yeah that joke doesn't help o.o xD

Y'all I'm stressed

I'm not too stressed because I believe they'll be fine but like y'all it hurts me 😭😭

Okay but that doesn't mean that he doesn't love you!! Bad question to ask!!

Okay but no was his first answer 👀

We can salvage this xd 😭

See the reason I wanted more time was for Isaac to have time to process his feelings 😭 like in 2x18 xdd

And realize it was all chill!!

Then again maybe they need to have this conversation before that xd

Okay let's not call it lustfulness 💀

ISAAACC

Sir I'm gonna kill you

Ik you're already dead but xd

My point is I DON'T THINK NOW IS THE TIME TO MENTION IMPERFECTIONS

Exactly I'm Nigel 😭

Okay well these are even tinier than I thought lol

AH CRAP

Bro's still not over that 😭

Not saying he should or shouldn't be I'm just like guys xd

Return of we were on a respite xD

I swear if he says something like "maybe we should be on another one" I am gonna lose it

It better be

Okay I do like the earnesty here though Isaac :')

Nahh that's a good thing Nigel :D

I'm trusting this music :)

Oogh gosh

"That was a pretty good trade" SLFGDKHS XDD

Okay I think I can trust this music :))

Yess there is

AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!

THE GRAB :'D

H E L P

OUAGH and that classic emotional Isaac whisper 😭😭❤️

We love that for us :')

AWWWW

See you saying it instinctively makes me believe it and believe you believe it :')) you knew it deep down 🥰🥰 :'D

AWWW :'))

Okay is the ox thing continuing xD

Okay no more war jokes Isaac leave it on a win xD

At this very moment o.o slfkdhjs??

Well great :DD 🥰🥰

Hallelujah phew lol

Now you just have to deal with that puritan ghost xd

She better not somehow permanently kill one of them or something I swear xD

#ghosts #ghosts cbs #cbs ghosts #oasis's ghosts chatter

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ambitionsource · 9 months

Text

AMBITION “Through the Valley of the Shadow of Death” [ 4.10 ]♮PART 1, half 1

RECAP

Over a series of shots from “Dear John,” Farkle setting fire to the imaginary museum of his relationship and watching it go up in flames:

Lucas, voiceover: Previously, on AMBITION…

That’s right, in case you missed it -- Farkle and Jordan are no more. Their final split was the result of just one of many personal reassessments that occurred last episode, as the ensemble evaluated where they are now and where they hope to go from here.

While Yindra finally met with the manager and producer Reese Dalton-King and hesitantly began her descent into the competitive world of girl groups, Maya discovered her dream duo of a producing team may not be as rosy as she thought. They have apparently diverging opinions on what path her career should take, which leaves her debating how much of her vision she’s willing to negotiate. Zay is facing similar friction, his ambition ruffling more feathers than winning him fans as he juggles what the best path forward could be -- with or without Turner Academy.

Zay: Everyone is always throwing their opinion at me. Everyone always has a damn opinion. I am working my ass off to make this thing work, and yet no one is fucking satisfied with it. Everyone keeps talking at me like I’m deflecting, or acting out of my ass, or making some big mistake. Well, I’m not. I’m doing the sensible thing.

If you say so, Zay. At the same time, Vanessa got a wake-up call of her own when she was called out by her professor for her lack of identity, which prompted a long-time-coming confrontation with her parents (particularly her father). Thankfully, she had the calm refuge of hanging out with Nigel while she helped him with an assignment -- and ended up giving him some potentially life-changing advice of his own to go for transferring out of NYU if that’s what he decides he really wants.

Vanessa: Take it from me, trying to do things the way everyone else wants you to is a recipe for disaster.

As the reigning king of that methodology, Charlie spent most of the week spending time with his mother in an effort to figure out why she’d grown cold with him since his return. As it turns out, it was more good news than bad -- he’d just done so much growing in the time he was away, Eleanor wasn’t sure where she’d fit in his life now that he’s back and so full of confidence. But they were able to meet in the middle, Charlie reaffirming their relationship and its sacred importance.

Charlie: I will always want you to be there, mom. Eleanor: My perfect boy. Charlie: Not perfect. Just… trying. Just me.

Isa didn’t have so much luck in the family department, an ongoing clash with the paparazzi bringing havoc to the MacNamara clan in a way they’d never endured before. Convinced they were doing more harm than good, Isa fled the scene -- and found shelter in the familiar embrace of old friends (or ex-friends, depending). Conveniently just in time, as Farkle dumped his soul-sucking boyfriend.

But one relationship proved itself plenty resilient against the odds. Riley and Lucas came back together after a busy week and a strong showing at opening night of Ghost: The Musical, finding home with each other as they always do… and Lucas took the time to make one affirmation abundantly, adamantly clear.

Lucas: I love you, Riley.

He may not say much, by nature, but for Riley, he’ll say it as many times as she wants.

But the lavender haze of love and comfort couldn’t last forever. There’s too much impending change, too many rising stakes, for the tide to remain low much longer. When Riley answered a call from Grace and called Lucas back into the room, their eye contact sending a message with no words necessary, that reminder was made loud and clear.

We’re cresting into the final episodes of the season, and the time for talking is growing short. Big decisions must be made, and emotional revelations demand to be felt.

And for some, the clock is ticking down on what meaningful time there is left. When it finally runs out, what’ll be left behind? What more is there to come? Are they ready for it -- can they be?

Only one way to find out. Can you hear it?

Tick… tick… tick tick… tick tick…

End of recap.

Over black, our first entry into the episode is a sound.

A heartbeat. A metronome of sorts, the most natural rhythm there is. It keeps up a faint momentum -- thump thump, thump thump -- as lights rise…

INT. IMAGINATION SPACE - AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

On a plain, dark stage. It’s a near replica of Adams Academy, only there’s no house to look out into. No audience to perform for. The edges of the wings and stage are cast in perpetual shadow, and the world in front of and behind the lit stage seems to go on forever. The set is pointedly simple -- just thirteen acting blocks arranged in windows along the rear of the stage, painted black.

The angle shifts, seemingly nothing but dust filtering through the light… then RILEY MATTHEWS steps into frame, in profile. She shines under the light.

And as the heartbeat quietly tapers out, she begins to sing.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “God Only Knows” as performed by Mollyxo || Performed by AMBITION Ensemble

[ Lyrics specific to characters -- follow along here! ]

Riley takes the first couple of lines, the camera shifting to face her head on. We slowly start to ease out as the next vocalist picks up the slack, a light coming up to illuminate ASHER GARCIA standing on one of the acting blocks to the back and right of Riley. Then ISA DE LA CRUZ, when it's their turn, between them and adjacent to Riley.

As we continue to widen our lens, it becomes clear that almost all of the acting blocks are occupied, darkened silhouettes standing on each like Riley, Asher, and Isa. As they take their solo lines, a ray of light shines on them to allow them to join the somber picture -- ZAY BABINEAUX. FARKLE MINKUS. VANESSA JOHNSON. CHARLIE GARDNER. While each ensemble member gets their solo moment to sing, the rest support with delicate a capella harmonies, filling the otherwise vacuous soundscape.

YINDRA AMINO gets her moment, then MAYA HART. Finally, NIGEL CHEY, who brings up light not only on himself but on JADE BEAMON on the block next to him. Characteristically, she doesn’t have a solo, but she quietly sings along with the other harmonies.

All of the lights are up now, giving us the chance to assess the ensemble properly. They’re all dressed in black, semi-formal wear, just with slight variations to each look that makes it unique to the individual (in fact, there’s so much costuming detail and specificity in this episode, it got its very own appendix to supplement this chapter). There is a sense of uniformity as they harmonize together, staring straight out into the darkness.

Only two acting blocks remain empty, the one in the front and center between Farkle and Riley, and one in the back row next to Asher. However, that last one isn’t entirely empty -- a lone six-string guitar leans against the front of it, a black beanie draped over its neck.

The center empty block makes sense soon enough, once we’ve expanded our view enough to get a full picture of the stage. While all of the singers are facing the same direction, it appears they’re actually facing the back of the stage -- the apron is jutting out behind them, where a lone figure is sitting on the edge by himself. By the time Nigel finishes his solo, and they transition into repeating the closing chorus, focus flips around and allows us to see from the house perspective…

Where LUCAS JAMES FRIAR is looking out into nothing. The camera eases in towards him while the harmonies peter out, the rest of the ensemble with their backs to him. He sits still, numb. Not singing, seemingly not hearing. By the time the camera stops, close on his face, we can see the slightest traces of conflict in his expression. Flickers of anger. Confusion. Desperation. Grief.

Although we can’t see her anymore, it’s Riley’s voice who carries the final word.

God only knows what I’d be without you…

Then, the scenery around Lucas slowly starts to shift, although he remains still and grim…

INT. HOSPITAL - WAITING AREA - DAY

The darkness fades into a lighter hue, becoming the off-white wash of hospital walls. Lucas is no longer sitting on the stage, but in an uncomfortable looking chair, which we can see as the camera pans back out again. Other noises begin to populate the soundscape, as if we’re emerging from underwater -- footsteps, urgent chatter, the hum of fluorescent lighting. To his right, GRACE FRIAR sits, equally solemn.

On his other side, Riley is there, restless but quiet. She keeps one hand resting lightly on his forearm on the armrest between them, but doesn’t say anything more.

Where they are now, waiting for the inevitable, there’s not much to say.

Cue title sequence.

INT. HOSPITAL - WAITING AREA - DAY

Things pick up right where they left off, Lucas, Grace, and Riley waiting in somber silence. They straighten up when a DOCTOR emerges from the double doors and makes their way over to them. Grace and Lucas both get to their feet.

The doctor mirrors their serious expressions, though laced with a hint of professional sympathy.

Doctor: We’ve gotten him situated, hopefully made him a bit more at ease. The respirator will help with breathing, though we will try to alternate him off of it and see if there’s any improvement.

But they don’t sound optimistic. Although they’ll offer support as long as it’s feasible…

Doctor: There isn’t much more to be done. All we can do is keep him comfortable and hope for the best.

“Hope” isn’t exactly the diagnosis you want from a medical professional, but Grace and Lucas don’t comment. They don’t seem capable of it at the moment, somewhat in shock.

The good news is that for the grim circumstances, Kenneth himself seems in good spirits. That’s what the doctor claims, anyway, before inviting them back to see him and discuss next steps. Grace nods, exchanging a glance with Lucas to silently question whether or not he wants to come along. Without a word, he gives her a subtle head shake. She can take this one.

Grace does so, not objecting as she lets the doctor lead her back through the double doors. Lucas watches them go, features as difficult to read as ever, though decidedly not in good spirits himself.

INT. MACNAMARA HOME - LIVING ROOM - DAY

Back on the west coast, the MacNamaras are grappling with a different kind of family drama. ZACHARY MACNAMARA and RUBY MACNAMARA are more than stressed about Isa’s sudden disappearance, the latter pacing the carpet as they try to determine what could’ve happened. The situation was unideal, as they all know, but they didn’t ever expect they would just bounce.

Ruby: I know things were high pressure, and no one was at their best. But I thought we were handling it well enough -- I thought we were tackling it together. I don’t know what could’ve happened that made them think breaking off on their own was the best move.

From his slouched perch in the recliner, LOUIS MACNAMARA grows sheepish. But he says nothing, crossing his arms and sliding further into his seat. MILO MACNAMARA, on the other hand, can’t keep from talking. He’s very upset about Isa’s absence, confused and concerned and wondering what went wrong. What if something happens to them?

Milo: I don’t get why they would leave. Did I do something wrong?

Ruby gives him a sympathetic smile, coming to sit with him on the couch. She assures him that no, this has nothing to do with him. Any of them, likely. It’s a series of unfortunate events, that’s all. They’ll work it out.

Milo: Isa can’t stay out there all alone. They need to come home. [ worried ] What if they can’t find their way back? What if they’re lost?

Somehow, that’s not a concern Zachary has, for all his other ones. Despite the gravity of the situation, he isn’t worried about Isa being on their own.

Zachary: I have a feeling I know exactly where they’ve ended up.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - DAY

The zipper closes on a hard-sided baby pink suitcase with a flourish, Maya getting to her feet and wiping her hands of the task. She is excited as she picks up the luggage and rolls it towards the door, declaring that she’s all set to go. Farkle eyes her assembled baggage from where he’s munching on cereal at the table, raising his eyebrows in amusement.

Farkle: Think you’ve got enough to last you there? It’s only a weekend trip, you know. Maya: Yes, I’m aware, but you never want to be caught without the right outfit for any occasion. I’m off to make music, not a fashion emergency.

As she goes on to explain the details to Farkle, we learn that she’s going on a weekend songwriting trip with Melissa and Justin. The latter has a lake house where he often hosts these kind of workshops for their clients, and some of the best hits have come out of it. Now that “Haute Stuff” is on deck and ready to go, the studio has greenlit her EP, so she’s going to need some banging new material to go on it.

Maya: Mainly, I just take it as a sign that they’re taking me seriously, which is all I want. Farkle: With two hits in a row and another on the way, they’d be insane not to. Have they given any of the demos you shared a listen yet? Maya: No, but I’m hoping this trip might offer opportunities for just that. I’m open to crafting new stuff, obviously, but if we hit a road block and need to visit something with a foundation…

Even so, she’s not holding her breath. She figures her original stuff will have to wait until the next project, once her EP has proven a success.

Before Farkle can object to that perspective, their conversation halts when Isa emerges from Farkle’s bedroom. They all glance at each other, not quite sure what to say -- it’s been a while since the three of them had to interact in such close quarters like this.

Which sounds like the perfect reason to get going. Maya claims she best be off, thanking Farkle for letting her borrow the family car to get to the studio. He nods and wishes her luck, which she accepts with a salute and air kiss. Isa doesn’t interrupt, hanging in Farkle’s doorway until Maya has made her exit.

Then, it’s just the two of them. Farkle turns in his seat and offers them a shy smile, which Isa returns. He asks if they slept okay, which breaks the ice enough to let them feel as though they can venture into the rest of the apartment.

Isa: Fine. Well, enough, given the circumstances. Sorry again for just showing up out of the blue like that. Farkle: Please, it’s fine. Like I said, our door is always open. I’m glad you felt like you could crash here when you needed to. Isa: It was definitely appreciated. Though you really didn’t need to let me take your room. I could’ve handled the couch.

Farkle waves off the concern. It’s not like he can’t stomach a night or two on the couch, and they’re the guest. Isa scoffs at that, sliding into the chair opposite him.

Isa: “Guest.” Sounds so fancy. Since when did we become old enough to be hosts and shit? Farkle: Beats me. I still perpetually feel like I’m scampering feral around Triple A and stealing people’s retainers.

Isa cracks up, earning a smile from Farkle. It is a weird time to be alive, in the collegiate years torn between youth and adulthood…

With its many varied challenges. Still smiling, Isa softens somewhat, braving the question of how Farkle is doing. With Jordan and everything…

Isa: I’m so sorry things ended like that. And that I showed up like, two seconds later. Seriously, my timing historically could not be worse. Farkle: No, it’s okay. No worries. Honestly, the distraction was welcome. Better to go into problem-solver mode to help a friend than wallow in my post-split misery and make myself feel worse. Anyway, don’t see why you’re apologizing. You were one of the ones telling me he was full of it. You should be saying I told you so. Isa: I mean, you’re not wrong. But that doesn’t mean it makes me happy to hear it. You could do better, but I don’t like that you had to get hurt first to get there.

But c’est la vie. Farkle shrugs. He shouldn’t be surprised.

Farkle: Given my track record with… just about everything, it’s only fitting. Like, of course my first relationship would be a clusterfuck with a megalomaniac that damages all my other relationships in the process. Would’ve been out of character for it to be anything but a disaster. [ running a hand through his hair ] Actually, the mere prospect of anyone wanting to get with me in the first place was joke enough. That should’ve been my first clue.

Isa frowns, not liking the self-deprecation. Especially not when they fundamentally, fervently could not agree less… but that’s not something they need to get into right now.

Farkle spares them the chance anyway, changing the subject to their melodrama. Now that they’re here, do they want to talk about what caused them to make a great escape and show up on their doorstep? They got the basics out of the way yesterday night, but surely there’s more to the story… but Isa brushes him off. They’d rather not talk about the family saga.

Isa: You know what? I’m finally actually here, and we’re both in the same fucking place, so let’s just enjoy that for once. Okay? I just want to focus on the fact that we can finally hang out. Forget the other bullshit.

Farkle chuckles, a bit bashful, but he’s not going to complain. Lord knows he has plenty to ignore right now too. So he’s all game for just getting to chill, like old times, though he’s not exactly sure what that entails. He doesn’t have any bright ideas. Isa scoffs.

Isa: Nothing? You don’t have any suggestions. [ off his shrug ] You’ve lived here for over six months, and you don’t have any favorite spots? Any local haunts? Do you just float from here to campus every day and let that be that? Farkle: I mean, yes, to a degree. That’s called being a student when not living two blocks from your college. Isa: Blah, blah. Farkle: But otherwise… I don’t know, I haven’t had much time to explore. Maya and I did a little, when we first got here, but then it was school. And rehearsal. [ a beat ] I did some things with Jordan, but it was mostly stuff he was into, so…

Jordan dictated so much of his free time these last few months… and now it’s all tainted anyway. By him; by them, or the death of it. So yeah, he’s got nothing.

Isa shakes their head. That just won’t do. Guess they know what they’re doing instead.

Isa: We’re gonna go out there, and we’re gonna make some new memories. Dump that old crap out and make room, because oh, we’re gonna get out there. We’re gonna explore. Farkle, amused: Yeah? Isa: Like Dora the fucking explorer, you and I. Let’s see this town the way you were supposed to. [ quirking an eyebrow ] You in, or what?

Well, when they look at him like that, playful and challenging and energized… like he could ever say no. Farkle makes a face, but then relents, nodding with a grin. Isa mirrors it.

INT. YINDRA’S APARTMENT - DAY

Yindra is also packing a bag, but not for a songwriting retreat. She’s made it through the first cuts of the girl group project, and now, they’re bringing the finalists on a weekend excursion to continue seeking the best combination for a powerhouse group. They’re being quite hush-hush about the whole thing though, for a bit of mystery and excitement, so Yindra’s intrigue is tempered with a fair amount of apprehension.

Still, she tries to keep calm. She convinces herself it’ll be okay, talking aloud as she finishes packing. Jade and DARIUS AMINO listen along, encouraging her positive outlook.

Darius: Just try to have fun. It should be a unique experience, if nothing else. Jade: And show them how fantastic you are. Don’t forget that part. Yindra: Right. You’re so right. It’ll be fine. Totally. [ a beat, then again ] No, yeah, it’ll be fine.

Jade also points out the potential in this trip beyond the girl group thing.

Jade: Maybe you’ll find some kindred spirits out of it. I mean, that’s kind of the whole thing, isn’t it? A bunch of talented, driven ladies coming together for this opportunity. Darius: That’s a good point. Sounds like potential friends in the making to me.

Or potential nightmares. But won’t know until she sees for herself. Yindra takes a deep breath and manages a smile, aiming for optimistic. They’re right. She’ll have fun. She’ll be fine.

INT. HOSPITAL - WAITING AREA - DAY

Not much optimism to spare at the hospital. Lucas is chatting quietly with Riley in their seats, exchanging soft murmurs. Their attention is drawn to the lobby doors when Asher walks through, though, with Charlie on his heels. The latter is carrying Lucas’s backpack on his shoulder, having brought stuff from the apartment he might need.

Lucas gets up immediately as they approach, shocked to see Asher. He asks what the hell he’s doing here -- shouldn’t he be in class? And hundreds of miles away?

Asher: I drove down when Riley texted. Dylan wanted to be here too, but he has like three midterms this week, so I convinced him to hang back until he finishes those. He agreed, but only if I passed this on.

Asher steps forward and gives Lucas a hug, squeezing him tight. Lucas stands frozen, not sure how to react, still unable to process the fact that he’s even here. When he steps away and lets him go, Riley rises to join their circle.

Asher: Anyway, he’ll be here as soon as his exams are done. Maybe sooner if he comes up with a compelling excuse to get his last midterm delayed -- I told him not to, but that’s never stopped him before. Lucas: Well, tell him not to again. He doesn’t need to do all that. He shouldn’t feel like he has to rush down here because of me.

In fact, Lucas doesn’t get why any of them are there. This isn’t their problem, and it’s just miserable bullshit, so they should save themselves the angst. All three of them open their mouths to argue against that -- with varying mixes of exasperation and empathy -- but they’re interrupted when a NURSE passes by their little crowd. She doubles back and informs them that they certainly can’t have this many guests back here at one time, especially if they aren’t immediate family.

Nurse: During this time frame, only one non-familial guest at a time. The rest of you can come back during regular visiting hours.

Charlie apologizes on their behalf, all of them staying quiet until the nurse walks away. Then Lucas scoffs, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Lucas: It’s fine anyway, because like I said, I don’t need any of you to be here. Save yourselves the time and the trouble and go home.

Lucas turns and skulks off, retreating back to the other side of the waiting area. Charlie and Riley exchange an uncertain look, concerned; Asher resists rolling his eyes at the theatrics, waiting until Lucas is out of earshot to continue the conversation. His best friend getting all huffy and defensive when on the emotional knife’s edge is nothing new.

Asher: We’ll take turns. That’ll be for the best, anyway, so we can accommodate all our schedules. Charlie: [ with a nod, to Riley ] That way you won’t have to miss class or performances.

To be frank, Riley hasn’t thought about either of those things for even a second since last night. She manages a nod.

INT. CAR - MOVING - DAY

Yindra is in an Uber with REESE DALTON-KING, who is giving her some final advice before she goes off on this mini-weekend chance to impress. Be charismatic and friendly, but not fake. Be at the top of her game, and don’t get distracted. Don’t get too attached to anyone there, because there’s no guarantee any of them will come back for the final round -- including her.

Peachy keen. Yindra takes a deep breath, nodding and claiming she’s got it. It’s not her first rodeo with cutthroat competition at least. Reese offers her a smile, genuine, and assures her he has plenty of faith in her abilities. He’ll be shocked if she doesn’t make it through.

All there is left to do is find out. The car pulls to a stop and Reese gets out first, holding open the door for Yindra to climb out.

EXT. JUPITER MUSIC - DAY

A small crowd has gathered outside the headquarters for Jupiter Music, where other young women are arriving with their family, guardians, agents, etc. While some are sharing warm goodbyes with family, others are getting last-minute tips or hype from their team. No one is pretending this isn’t one of the last tests barring them from a major opportunity. Perhaps one of the only ones they’ll ever get, with the unpredictability of this industry.

As Reese walks with Yindra towards check-in, another FEMALE AGENT suddenly catches his attention. She’s standing with another young woman, a few years older than Yindra with a brassier build but undeniably as pretty. This is RONICA LEWIS (24).

Before either girl can say a word, or really size each other up, Ronica’s agent says something snarky to Reese that makes it more than evident they have beef. Is he really planning to put forth another wannabe starlet, when he should know by now that she’s just going to blow his picks out of the water?

Yindra: Um, wannabe -- Reese: It’s an open call. You should know, with tenure in this industry as long as you’ve had it, that anyone is welcome to throw their clients into the ring. Agent: Yes, well, one would hope for an outcome of actually booking one of those clients, but it’s cute to see you keep trying. [ to Yindra, full of irony ] Best of luck, babe.

It doesn’t seem at a glance like Ronica agrees with the behavior of her agent, but it’s hard to tell. Reese nudges Yindra along before either of them can retort, leaving the catty agent behind. Clearly, the stakes of having a successful entry into this group are bigger than just personal. There’s more pressure than Yindra might’ve imagined.

When she asks about that exchange, though, Reese brushes it off, going back to his professional demeanor. That agent just has a history of scooping his best opportunities -- typical industry bullshit. Yindra shouldn’t let it get to her. Just keep her head in the game, and eyes on the prize.

One of the organizers of the retreat whistles to get people’s attention, directing everyone to one of the busses parked along the curb. One bus for the ladies, another for their teams. These will take them to the secret location of where this retreat is starting, and reveal what the big treat of the event will be.

As the girls start to shuffle towards the bus, one of the taller of the pack -- ALEENA SAYYID (22), a beautiful, striking Muslim with deep brown eyes and a jaw that could cut glass -- offers a pithy remark as an aside.

Aleena: Anyone else feel like the odds of us all getting trafficked just shot up significantly? No? All right then.

Yindra can’t decide if she wants to laugh, or run full speed in the other direction. But she dutifully marches towards the bus with the rest.

INT. SHUTTLE BUS - DAY

Yindra steps up into the bus, quickly scanning and searching for a place to settle. There’s no telling how long this bus ride might be, and assessing where to sit amongst all these unfamiliar faces -- competitive faces at that -- feels like Minesweeper.

One girl who is obviously younger than Yindra, waif-like and pretty, is chatting too animatedly to be tolerable for long bouts of time. Pass. A couple rows behind her, a light-skinned girl with intense eyes and a boast-worthy afro of curls shoots Yindra an unimpressed glare. Also pass.

She doesn’t get much more time to decide, as Aleena nearly bumps into her from on her way up the steps behind her.

Aleena: Yikes. Traffic jam? Yindra: Uh, sorry. Sorry --

Yindra takes the least risky move, surging forward and plopping down into a seat next to a thin blonde with a trendy bleached pixie cut and cute, round cheeks. This is HEATHER REED (20). She appears cool enough, which Yindra knows is no guarantee of civility, but right now she’ll have to take her chances.

She raises her eyebrows at her sudden landing, slightly amused.

Heather: Hi to you too. Yindra: Yeah, hi. Sorry. Heather: No biggie. I’m Heather.

She holds out a hand. Yindra shakes it.

Yindra: Yindra. Heather: Pretty name. I like it. Memorable, too.

Before Yindra can thank her, they’re accosted by the waifish girl. She plops into the seat in front of them and leans over the back to chat. She appears to be making the rounds, introducing herself to everyone and anyone. Her friendliness is nice, but it has that practiced edge to it that reeks of young professional rather than genuine socialite.

Ladies and gentlemen, meet TABITHA FLORES (18).

Tabitha: Hi there. I’m Tabitha.

She offers a hand to both Heather and Yindra, who take turns shaking it.

Tabitha: What brings you both here? I was looped in by my management -- that seems to be the most common path so far. Though of course, I can’t forget to mention the execs who put in a good word for me. I did a couple recurring spots on a Netflix show or two. It’s NBD.

Humble brag. Neat. It does what it’s supposed to do, though, which is casually drop that this girlie is already walking in with a few industry credits under her belt.

Tabitha: Great experience, but singing is my true passion, so this feels like the right move for me. I actually was offered a leading role for a new show they’re developing on Paramount+, but it’s like, some reboot of a franchise from ten years ago that no one asked for. Ew, right? So I’m placing big bets this’ll be the much smarter trajectory.

As if she’s already a shoo-in for a place. She sure can talk enough to fill all five spots -- her momentum is only interrupted when another hopeful bumps into her from behind. This girl is a walking Fabletics ad, tan skin just slightly too sleek to be natural and clearly a master of make-up.

Madysin: Were we talking about invites? I got mine from the label itself. Not to brag or anything. Tabitha: Oh. [ tightly ] That’s nice. Heather: How did you manage to swing that? Madysin: It’s all in the numbers, babe. I’ve been building my TikTok following for exactly this reason. Once you’ve got the goods, the offers just start rolling in. Admittedly, though, this is the first one I’m excited about. You can only fake enthusiasm for a diet tea so much.

The girl with the afro rolls her eyes, scoffing and crossing her arms. Not impressed. This is SLOANE SHARPE (17). The TikTok sensation keeps chatting, fluffing her hair.

Madysin: Anyway, I’m pretty sure it was my viral dance videos that got their attention. They went like, mega viral. I’m actually pretty well-known on the platform -- Kylie Jenner and Nikki Haley have both stitched with me, so I have a pretty wide base. Name’s Madysin May, handle “at madysinmayi.” You may have heard of me. Sloane, flatly: Never.

Yindra shrugs, also unfamiliar. MADYSIN MAY (21) doesn’t seem fazed, continuing her trek towards the back of the bus. As Tabitha spins around and finds a new girl to chat up, Heather turns and gives Yindra a wide-eyed look just dripping with amused judgment.

Heather: What bus did we just board? Crazy town?

Yindra can’t help but laugh, though she keeps it quiet. At least one other person here doesn’t seem like a pre-selected industry baby or pathological headcase.

The executive boards the bus and tells all the ladies that they’ll be on their way now, so everyone get pumped! If crazy town is where they’re headed, there’s no turning back now…

INT. GLOBAL BEAT - OFFICES - DAY

JOSH MATTHEWS is at his desk in the office box, seemingly hard at work sifting through his inbox when Maya emerges from the elevators with her things. She can’t pass up the opportunity to pick on him, quietly picking up her suitcase to sneak up on him from behind. Once she’s behind him, she playfully rolls the suitcase into the back of his chair, startling him and causing him to nearly spill his coffee.

Maya: Whoops! Fender bender.

Josh whips around, on defense, but he relaxes somewhat when he sees it’s just her. He’s surprised that she’s elected to talk to him out of the blue, and that she has all this baggage with her, but he finds he’s not opposed to the surprise.

When he asks what she’s doing there rolling her things into his personal space, she excitedly explains that she’s going on the songwriting retreat. Josh nods.

Josh: So you’re the talent they’re taking this time. They usually keep it vague when I book it in their calendar. Maya: Yep. The label is very keen on “Haute Stuff,” even though it hasn’t dropped yet, so they’ve greenlit us to start work on putting together an EP. No announcements yet, so keep it hush-hush --

Josh raises a hand in surrender then puts a finger to his lips, signaling his lips are sealed.

Maya: But an EP will need songs, so that’s what we’re gonna make this weekend. Pop domination is so close, it’s like you can almost taste it.

Might be getting a bit ahead of ourselves there, but the enthusiasm is infectious. Josh can’t help but crack a smile. He crosses his arms and leans back against his desk. He figures the retreat should be easy breezy, considering she already has a handful of demos, right? If they just pull from those, they hardly will need to break their backs over the weekend.

Although he’s paying her a compliment, Maya recedes somewhat at the mention of her personal portfolio. Given the reception she got from Melissa and Justin -- which is to say, none at all -- she seems to have cooled on the demos.

Maya: I think they’ll want to craft some brand new material for this breakout. You know, be involved from the ground up. [ with a shrug ] Besides, they weren’t my best anyway. Best to leave them in the dustbin, I bet.

She plays off nonchalant about it, but there’s just the slightest of cracks in her facade that lets the disappointment shine through. Josh is confused regardless -- he’s not going to puff her up without merit, but he finds it hard to believe all of her demos were compost material. Given her instincts for mining gold with “On My Grind (O.M.G.)” and “LolliPop,” the odds that there’s nothing worth building on in a portfolio full of her work sounds off.

He doesn’t get the chance to question her, though, as JUSTIN MILLER emerges from his office and comes to join them seconds later. He greets Maya with great fanfare and throws an arm around her shoulders, hugging her to his side as he declares victory on their EP greenlight. Maya beams, happy to share in the successful move.

Josh: Congratulations. Justin: Thank you, thank you. Couldn’t have done it without ya, Josh, keeping my life organized and above board.

And producing whole songs for you. Don’t forget that. Justin pats Maya’s head affectionately.

Justin: Now we’ve just got to get this moneymaker upstate and start crafting some bangers. Pop a bottle for us while you’re here, Josh -- it’s gonna be a wild weekend!

One he’s not invited to, in case that wasn’t clear. MELISSA SUZUKI emerges from the office and locks it up, duffle slung over her shoulder. She greets Josh cheerfully as well and tosses him the keys to their offices, telling him to take good care of the place while they’re gone.

Justin: It’s up to you, young padawan. Don’t let us down. Josh: I’ll do my best. Melissa: And now we’ve got to go make some fucking good music. Justin: Hells yeah, baby! Let’s go!

Justin leads the way towards the elevators, a true pep in his step. Melissa rolls her eyes fondly and gives Maya a playful elbow nudge as she follows, letting their client bring up the rear. She follows eagerly, tossing Josh one more jazzed smile over her shoulder as she goes.

Josh manages to return it, giving her a salute to send her on her way. It feels nice to not be bitter anymore, to feel like they’ve bridged their bad start and he can be happy for her. Like he would for Riley -- like she’s another industry niece.

Just would be nice if he got to be in on the excitement too. Instead, he goes back to his work, slumping into his chair and staring at his busy inbox.

INT. CHUBBIES - DAY

Charlie has taken up residency at Chubbies for the afternoon, only a few blocks away from the hospital. He’s working on transcribing some of the journal entries he wrote while abroad into a digital form on his laptop, organizing the thoughts into something more malleable in case he ever wants to do something with it beyond just hiding the journal in his nightstand drawer with his Bible.

When Zay steps through the door and spots Charlie sitting in one of the booths, it looks like he can’t believe his good timing. He can’t hold back his smile as he saunters over to join him, lightly drumming on the table to get his attention once he’s made it in front of him.

Charlie jumps slightly, breaking his concentration to look up, but he brightens naturally when he recognizes who has paid him a visit.

Charlie: Hi. Zay: Hey. Just who I was hoping to see -- I was actually gonna send you a text, but then I just got lucky. Charlie: [ raising his eyebrows ] Color me intrigued.

He gestures to the booth opposite him. Zay happily slides in and takes a seat, leaning forward on his elbows and getting right to it.

Zay: So as you know, my Turner audition is this week. Charlie: Shoot, yeah. Are you feeling good about it? Zay: As I’ll ever be. At this point, it’s kind of a leave it all on the stage sort of thing, so I’m trying not to overthink it. [ moving on ] Anyway, we’re gonna get our official slots later this week, but they’ve given us the venue and window of time for the auditions already. And it doesn’t say anywhere in the fine print that this is a closed door affair, or anything, so… I was hoping you’d come. To see my audition.

Despite his nonchalance, there’s an earnest edge to his delivery that kind of knocks the wind out of Charlie. He’s a bit surprised he even thought to extend the invitation, when he’d expect his mind to be on anything but him right now.

Charlie: Oh. Wow. Zay: I know it’s late notice, sorry. I would’ve asked earlier, but like I said, we just got the deets today. I didn’t want to throw it out there and ask anything of you until I knew it wouldn’t be like, an instant disqualifier to have friends because God forbid we have anyone rooting for us. Charlie: No, for sure. That’s okay. I assume Vanessa’ll be there too? You’re allowed to watch each other’s stuff?

Well… good question, Charlie. Truth is, Zay has no idea whether she will, but based on his own thinking, he has his suspicions.

Zay: Uh, I don’t think so. We’re not exactly all gungho at the moment. Charlie: Oh. [ a beat ] Is everything okay? Zay: No, no, yeah. It’s chill. It’s just -- [ hastily explaining ] so obviously there’s a lot on the line, you know, with the auditions. Transferring. And we both want it, and we get a little competitive, so the impending pressure was kind of putting a strain on things. Charlie: Right. Zay: So we decided it would be best for us to take some space while this was going on, like, not get in each other’s way and let the focus be on the dance. So that way, no matter what happens, we can’t blame one another for the outcome. We’ll do our thing, lay it all out there and not interfere, then once this audition shit is done we can just snap back into place and it’ll all be back to normal. Easy peasy.

Right… although Zay speeds through that explanation like it’s obvious, Charlie has a bit of trouble keeping up. He holds it together well, but there’s more than one moment where slight shifts in his expression betray his bewilderment. Like, okay… sure… probably not how he’d want to handle something like that at this point, if he were in a relationship…

But he’s not, so he holds his tongue.

Zay breezes past the topic, coming back to what he cares about -- the audition. Namely, whether or not Charlie is willing to spare the time to be there.

Zay: It’s totally fine if not, but I figured better to ask than assume. You know I don’t believe in signs or karma or any of that mumbo-jumbo bullshit, but at the same time, I’m not gonna miss a chance to improve my odds if it’s right there in front of me. And based on my track record in the last few years, far more of my wins than my losses have occurred when you just so happened to be in attendance. Charlie, bashful: I mean, I wouldn’t say… Zay: So if it’s at all possible, it would be great to have my good luck charm present for what might be the biggest audition of my life up to this point. Not to mention my best friend who can actually appreciate good dance when he sees it. [ holding his gaze ] So?

Give him a second, Zay, he’s still tingling over the good luck charm comment. But really, what did he think he was going to say? As if he was going to be able to look at Zay, gazing at him hopefully with those brown eyes, and ever say no?

Charlie: Of course. It would be an honor.

There’s just one condition, which is that it depends on timing. Charlie makes clear that he has some important plans already scheduled that same evening, so he might have to dip out early depending on when Zay’s slot is assigned. But he’ll do his best to be there.

Just the promise of his supposed charmed presence is enough for now. Zay grins, lightly smacking the table in triumph.

INT. JOHNSON HOME - DAY

The mood isn’t so jubilant in the Johnson home, despite the same important events looming on the horizon. It appears Vanessa has entered a stalemate with her parents, none of them speaking a word when Vanessa enters the kitchen to grab her lunch before heading off to class. RAY JOHNSON doesn’t even look up from his paper.

ALEXIS JOHNSON does, though, eyeing Vanessa when she’s not looking. There’s a slight frown in her features, a motherly concern that can’t be concealed by the ice that’s spread throughout their home.

Vanessa hardly notices when she finally turns to address them. She keeps it brief, simply informing them of the same details regarding her audition. The date, where it is, that that’s where she’ll be for that stretch of time that evening. She’s not asking for permission, she’s just keeping them in the loop.

She doesn’t wait for a response -- she knows she won’t get one. Ray doesn’t even act as though he heard her, like the words just evaporated into thin air. Alexis keeps her head down as Vanessa passes and heads out the door, then glances after her with that same pensive expression.

INT. CHEY APARTMENT - NIGEL’S BEDROOM - DAY

Nigel appears quite a bit nervous himself that afternoon. He’s been compiling research and information on schools and acting programs in the UK for days now, and he’s finally gotten enough together that he feels confident enough to share with others. There’s a plan, albeit in rough sketches, for how he could make this happen. He could actually try and jump the pond.

But that doesn’t mean he has the nerve to do it. The document he’s working on is titled “Notes for Mom and Dad,” so the hurdle of telling them is clearly foremost on his mind. If he can just find the right way to go about it… if he can just find the guts to open his mouth in the first place…

Executive, pre-lap: Ladies, the best and brightest of your future potential awaits!

EXT. SANTA MONICA - DOCK - DAY

The buses have brought the hopefuls and their management to Santa Monica, where they’re deposited on a private dock. In the not-so-distant background, the famous Pier with its spectacle and ferris wheel add pops of color to the scenery.

Our focus is on this pier, though, where a large, luxurious yacht is waiting for them. Yindra walks with the other girls towards the end of the dock, staring up at the fancy boat with wide eyes. Whatever she was expecting the first year out of high school to look like, she definitely did not have Hollywood cruising on her bingo card.

Big shot executives from Jupiter await them in suits when they arrive, shiny smiles intact. All assembled, there are about fifteen young women gathered for this opportunity, all ranging between 17 - 25 in age. The CEO greets them and reminds them that this is an amazing chance for them to kickstart the rest of their careers. While he speaks, Madysin makes sure to elbow her way to the front and put on her biggest smile.

Jupiter CEO: Although not all of you will be selected to move onto the final round, nor be a part of this future girl-power-powerhouse, we hope you’ll make the most of this weekend and all it has to offer. A chance to get your name and talents in front of a slate of industry professionals, the time to mix with fellow talented women and perhaps make some brand new besties -- and last but not least, have a hell of a lot of fun!

No middle-aged man is capable of saying all that without sounding cheesy as hell, but the idea is there. Everyone applauds, Yindra doing her best to mean it and not let the nerves speak for her.

With that, it’s time to get on board -- literally! Assistants move forward to start ushering the ladies onto the gangway, the executives telling them to wave goodbye to their teams and get ready for a great time.

As Yindra obediently follows, she glances back over her shoulder towards Reese. He gives her a thumbs-up and beam, brimming with confidence. Ignore the others. Show what she’s got. She’s got this.

Can only hope his confidence isn’t misplaced. Yindra returns the smile, signaling she got the message. Then she walks the plank onto the yacht, sealing her fate for the weekend.

INT. YACHT - MAIN FLOOR - DAY

The entrance brings the girls to the main interior room of the yacht, a trendy and modern lounge. It feels somewhat like the house of a reality TV show, with comfy couches, a big TV, and a sound system. To the right, a decently sized kitchen is set-up, though it’s made clear early on they won’t feel the need to use that so often. Most of their meals will be catered for them during the retreat. Beyond the couches, glass doors lead out onto the main upper deck, letting in tons of sunshine and treating them to a gorgeous view of the water.

The rest of the spacious vessel will be unveiled in due time, but for now, they need to go through the check-in process. The organizers direct them accordingly, stating that each of them will briefly step into their privacy booth to record an introductory video. This will be used as a reference for later deliberations. It’s also noted that many of the common areas on the boat have cameras for security (sans the bathrooms and bedrooms, of course).

Staff also takes their belongings, noting that they’ll be taken to their bedrooms, which will be assigned to each girl by the end of the first evening. They’re also collecting their phones, as they want this retreat to be about staying in the moment and bonding with the fellow girls (plus, no leaks).

Yindra watches apprehensively as they take her bags and phone away. Truly no turning back now.

INT. YACHT - PRIVACY BOOTH - DAY

Privacy booth is one way to put it, but it may look more similar to what reality TV fans could call a “confessional booth.” The room is small, about walk-in closet-sized, with sound-proofed walls. At one end is a telephone, so they can still contact others if need be. Then in the center of the space is a stool, which faces opposite the camera system inset at the other end of the wall.

Yindra tries to acclimate to all of this as she takes her turn in the booth -- the first one, in fact, given her “A” surname. She awkwardly settles onto the stool and then finds the button to press that’ll start the recording. She manages a smile just in time.

Yindra: Hi there. Yindra Amino. Nineteen years old. Mezzo soprano. New York native.

With that, a brief, chipper montage ensues, jumping between each of our main players on this girls retreat. We see each girl introduced from the camera’s perspective, as if we’re watching the footage later.

Tabitha: My name is Tabitha Flores -- Sloane: Sloane Sharpe -- Heather: Heather Reed. Madysin: Madysin May. TikTok “madysinmayi.” Chances are you’ve already heard of me.

Momentum stalls a little bit when a tall redhead takes the stool. This is KIMMY PRICE (20), undeniably pretty with big blue eyes and a modelesque frame. She’s peering into the camera, clearly confused. After a long beat…

Kimmy: Um… hello? Is this -- is it on?

The door creaks open, one of the staff poking their heads in. We can’t see them, but their voice catches on the recording.

Staff: It’s on. Kimmy: Oh. Okay. Thank you. [ once the door shuts, with a peppy grin ] Hi! I’m Kimmy. Hailing from Cincinnati -- Sloane: Chicago -- Heather: Portland -- Aleena/Tabitha: [ split-screened ] Los Angeles. Madysin: Dallas, Texas, baby. You know what they say, everything’s bigger -- and everything is better, too!

The client of Reese’s rival takes the seat, more poised and professional than the younger girls thus far.

Ronica: I’m Ronica Lewis. Mezzo, though my strongest register is alto. Four years experience in the industry -- Aleena: Three long years in the industry -- Tabitha: I’m just getting my feet wet in the music industry, officially speaking, but don’t let that wig you out. I’ve got a following on my Soundcloud and Spotify for the singles I’ve released since I started writing in middle school. I’ve also got experience on the screen, through my roles in -- Sloane: … high school and community theater, which I detailed in my original paperwork before signing up. Kimmy: I have been working with a vocal coach, but I absolutely love to dance. I hope this group will get to do a lot of that. Madysin: My dance videos have gotten over five-hundred thousand views, and that’s just talking averages. So clearly I can bring that to the table. Aleena: I have light training in gymnastics, and I’ve been taking ballet, hip-hop, and jazz since I was about seven years old. Yindra: I haven’t broken out -- so to speak -- in the industry just yet, but I attended one of the top arts high schools in the country and spent four years honing my craft. I also was invited to perform at the Hollywood Haunt this past fall, an event known for highlighting the best up-and-coming unknown talent in the business.

No need to mention it’s because Maya passed her an extra ticket. Details. Although all of their stories and journeys to this moment are different, each of the fifteen girls we see concludes with a very similar sentiment.

Tabitha: I’m very excited for -- Aleena: This opportunity. I hope that -- Madysin: Throughout the week, you will get to see -- Kimmy: I will get to show you -- Yindra: Just how much I have to offer. I will -- Aleena: Give my all, as I always do -- Sloane: One-hundred percent. Then I guess -- Ronica: We’ll see what happens. But thank you for this opportunity -- Yindra: And I’m keen to see what the weekend holds.

We land back on Kimmy for the conclusion, who is still cheerfully talking.

Kimmy: I’m also very excited to get to spend the weekend with the other girls, and maybe make some new friends. Whoever ends up in this group, I just know we’re going to be the best of friends. So… yeah! I can’t wait. [ a long pause ] Okay, I’m done now. I think. Um, how do I -- ?

She grasps around the booth for the solution, until she finds the button on the wall to suspend recording -- and sends the whole thing smashing to black.

INT. HOSPITAL - HALLWAY - NIGHT

Riley has taken on shift duty for the evening, hanging out with Lucas while they wait. In theory, no news is good news, but it’s hard to even know what they’re hoping for at this point…

So instead, she’s focused on taking care of him. Although he insists he isn’t hungry, she’s convinced him to at least grab something from the vending machine. Any carbs is better than none at all.

Lucas: Don’t see how it even matters. If I pass out, or whatever, I’m already in the opportune place to be helped. [ under his breath ] Don’t think our bills could go any higher…

His deadpan delivery is less charming than usual, given the circumstances. But Riley lets it slide -- she knows his head is all over the place. She simply nudges him into picking something from the options, sliding a few quarters into the slot and waiting for him to press the buttons.

While they watch the painfully slow mechanics of the machine, Riley takes the opportunity to bring up something that’s been on her mind. Obviously, she respects that he’s not that keen on digital communication, but she thinks he might want to clue Isa into what’s going on. Even though they’re not in town, she’s certain they’d want to know what’s happening.

Lucas, on the other hand, doesn’t seem keen.

Lucas: I’d rather not bother them. Riley: I really don’t think they’d see it as a bother. They’ve been following this whole thing just like we have for months. I know if I were away and something like this were happening, that it was so -- I’d want to know. I’d want to be able to help, if I could. Lucas: Yeah, well, they can’t help. They can’t do anything about it. So that’s kind of a moot point, isn’t it?

Riley maintains her patience, but she raises her eyebrows at him. Not impressed with his tone. He grows sheepish, going back to staring at the machine.

Lucas: Sorry. Riley: It’s okay. Lucas: I don’t mean to be like this. Like, take it out on you or -- [ tapping the machine glass ] Stuck.

Riley frowns, glancing towards the vending machine. He’s right -- whatever they ordered has gotten stuck right before freedom, trapped in the last second before freefall. Riley huffs in irritation and digs in her wallet for more quarters.

When she comes up short, Lucas holds up a hand to halt her complaints. He glances around them to make sure no one is looking, clenches his jaw… then he shoulder-checks the machine. It jostles it just enough to release their snack.

Guess sometimes all you need to get unstuck is a bit of a good shake… and that’s one way to get all your pent-up emotion out. Riley drops down and retrieves the item from the slot, handing it to Lucas when she’s back at full height. He thanks her, but doesn’t make any moves to eat it.

They hang by the machine for a few moments longer, cast in a subtle blue glow. Lucas clears his throat, plastic crinkling as he fidgets with the snack in his fingers.

Lucas: I get why you’re making the point about Dora. I get why you’d feel that way. But I’d really rather not say anything. Riley: … okay, but -- Lucas: Like, it’s fine that you texted Dyl and Asher, but I kind of wish you’d warned me first. I wasn’t planning on telling them either. Riley: I’m sorry. I thought you’d want them here. They want to be here for you. Lucas: I know.

But it’s complicated. Sure, it’s a comfort to have his best people around, but it’s also embarrassing. He kind of wants to crawl under a rock right now and disappear, and that doesn’t pair naturally with socializing. He understands Riley’s instincts, especially since it’s her, and he doesn’t hold it against her. He just doesn’t want to involve any more people than necessary. This is doubly true for Isa, considering…

Lucas: They’ve got their own stuff going on right now. I want them to focus on that, not get roped back into my bullshit. I’m inconveniencing enough people as it is. Riley: It’s not an inconvenience. Lucas: Just… can you do that for me? Please? Do me that one favor.

Riley still seems certain withholding the news is a bad idea… but when he looks at her like that, so gentle and tired, and asks so little of her, she doesn’t see how she could refuse. If she wants to help him, and that’s all he wants from her, how could she reasonably say no?

So she relents, keeping the ball in his court. She nods and takes his wrist, soothingly rubbing her thumb against his forearm. He offers a weak smile.

He also takes care to remind her that she has class in the morning, as well as rehearsals that afternoon, so she should not feel compelled to spend all night wasting away in here with him. He doesn’t want her to mess up her own stuff because of him. Riley confirms she knows that, and isn’t, but she also makes zero moves to go anywhere else.

If it comes down to want, there’s no place Riley would rather be than in the trenches with him.

INT. THE LAST BOOKSTORE - SECOND FLOOR - DAY

Meanwhile, Isa remains oblivious and is having a good time, having spent most of the afternoon visiting Los Angeles staples with Farkle. They’ve ended up at the famous Last Bookstore in downtown L.A., with its endless rows of shelves and cool book-themed art installations.

It’s a great vehicle for getting them back in top shape, too, because nothing fuels their banter better than arguing over narratives. They’re currently bickering about some piece of classic literature that Farkle has pulled off one of the shelves, and the back and forth snaps back into place so easily. Debate is like a heartbeat, the rhythm of their dynamic that keeps them alive.

Farkle: Okay, well, I don’t know how else to say it other than just doing it, so I’ll say it again -- you’re wrong. You literally could not be more wrong. I’m concerned about your reading comprehension at this point. Isa: You’re worried, but I’m fucking relieved. Here I was, so concerned back in New York that coming out here to L.A. would make you into some sort of savant, some culturally elite media mogul, but nope! You’re just like before -- stubborn, erroneous, and out of your damn mind.

Anyone who passed by them might think they hate each other just hearing that, but the fondness dripping off Isa’s words and the amused smirks on their faces betray the opposite. This is just how they are -- and boy, does it feel good to have it again.

They make it to one of the prime draws of the bookstore, the window in the bookshelf, a popular artsy photography spot. Isa can’t help themselves, going around to the other side and pulling out their phone to snap a picture of Farkle through the books. He offers a light smile at first, just a hint of shyness -- then he makes a cracked expression, making Isa laugh as they capture that one too.

Isa: Fitting. Perfect representation.

Farkle manages to snap a couple of his own before Isa notices, and once they do, they stick their tongue out at him. He grins, then pockets his phone. Still on opposite sides, Farkle examines them for a beat before speaking again.

Farkle: Can I be honest? Isa: Were we not before? Did you think I was joking when I said you were out of your mind?

Farkle laughs mockingly, earning a proud smirk in response. But yes, he should feel free to speak his mind. It’s just Isa, after all -- if he can’t be honest with them, who’s seen the worst of him, then who?

They continue their journey as they talk, walking through the tunnel of books.

Farkle: I just thought… I was kinda worried this would be awkward. You know, like, us. Hanging out together after so long. Isa: … yeah? Farkle: Yeah. But that’s the thing, it’s not. Like, not at all. It feels just like before -- like we’re just the same as we always are.

Isa turns to look at him, the two of them standing close together to fit in the tunnel. In their mind, it isn’t quite just like it always used to be… if the way their heart flutters looking up at him in the shadows of the literature around them is any indication.

Even so, that little detail aside… they smile.

Isa: Same. And yeah, it’s a big fucking relief.

Farkle mirrors their grin, obviously equally grateful. But all that gratitude is starting to feel a little dizzying, in such close confines, so Isa leads the way back out of the tunnel and into the light again.

Once they’re free, Isa asks how it’s possible Farkle has never come here before. Not only is it apparently a local cultural classic, but it’s like, custom built for him. Even if he didn’t feel like he could come alone -- which would be bizarre anyway -- how is it possible he didn’t at least come with Charlie?

Isa: This kind of seems like a place Charlie would be foaming at the mouth to see. Farkle: [ with a snort ] Yeah, I’m pretty sure it was one of the first places he went when he got here. He did invite me, but I couldn’t go. I had class when he wanted to go. [ with a shrug ] Otherwise, I don’t know. I thought about it, but Jordan wasn’t into it. He said it was touristy and basic and all that. I believe his exact word was “lame.” Isa: Well… [ searching for a clever retort ] he’s lame.

The diss is so half-assed and uncreative, Farkle can’t help but burst out laughing. It’s enough to catch the attention of a few other shoppers, who cast the two of them irritated glances. They quiet down and keep walking, but both of them are now working overtime to suppress their giggles.

Sorry, Los Angeles, you’ve only just begun to meet the dual menace that is Farkle Minkus and Isa De La Cruz.

INT. MALIBU LAKE HOUSE - DAY

At the same time, Justin, Melissa, and Maya are just arriving at Justin’s lake house in Malibu. It’s a spacious and rustic looking set up, with an absolutely epic view of the hills. A gorgeous open floor plan, wood finishes… it’s Hollywood glamor all right, and Maya is already loving every second of it.

Justin calls for her to make herself at home, and directs her towards the end of the hall on the first floor for her guest room. He and Melissa both have rooms on the second floor.

Already, it feels magical. Hopefully, the music will be the same.

INT. YACHT - DINING ROOM - DAY

The sun is just beginning to set on the horizon, painting the ocean golden through the windows as all the travelers settle in for a fancy dinner on the lower deck. The executives with the label are sharing this celebratory first meal with the contenders of the girl group, taking the chance to get to know them and learn more about who they might be supporting in the future.

It’s not very illuminating, though, as everyone is on their best behavior in front of the head honchos. In fact, the girls don’t speak much at all, the meal mostly being dominated by the executives loving to listen to themselves talk. They speak loftily about their high aims for the group, how this will surely be the project that reignites an enthusiasm for the art of the girl group in the public consciousness. Yindra half-listens, using more of her focus to eye the rest of the girls at the table and observe from a safe distance.

Once they’re dismissed for the evening, the head organizer informs the girls that they’ll find their room assignments posted as they head out. They didn’t think they’d all get their own rooms, did they?

INT. YACHT - YINDRA’S ROOM - NIGHT

Nope, we’re bunking in this little sailing adventure. It’s almost like sleepaway camp, two twin extra-long beds set up on opposite sides of the small wood-paneled room.

Yindra steps inside first, finding her things on the bed on the right. She starts to go through them, wondering if it’s even worth it to unpack, when her new roommate appears in the doorway a moment later.

Heather. The girl from the bus. The two of them size each other up for a beat, then break into smiles.

Heather: Okay, not to be a bitch, but I’m so damn relieved you’re my roomie.

Yindra grins, echoing the sentiment. They hit it off so well this morning, it feels like pure luck. Heather goes to her side of the bed and starts going through her things as well, commiserating about how weird that dinner felt. This whole experience is going to be odd as hell, isn’t it?

Yindra: I think that’s basically a guarantee, yeah.

Well, at least they know they’ve got an ally… or Heather hopes so. She pitches the idea to Yindra, suggesting they band together early and stick together. They already get along, and it’ll put a lot of pressure off them if they know they have a friend to socialize with from the jump. Less time stressing about cliques and small chat, more time to focus on what matters.

Yindra isn’t going to argue with that. She nods in agreement, the two of them exchanging a low-five to seal the deal.

Baby, let the games begin…

INT. HOSPITAL - WAITING AREA - DAY

Lucas is without additional company early the next morning, just him and Grace occupying the waiting area chairs. Grace is finally managing to get a wink of sleep, as light and restless as it may be, head tilted back against the wall. Lucas is doing everything he can not to disturb her, even quieter than usual and lost in his own sleepless thoughts.

His efforts are for naught, as Grace awakes with a start when the double doors open and another NURSE comes out to greet them. She offers Grace an apologetic smile, then notes that Kenneth is awake and they’ll be doing some morning diagnostics and discussions about his care if they’d like to join.

Grace nods, getting to her feet -- then the nurse turns to Lucas, specifically extending the invitation to him as well. As if he isn’t sure whether he’s allowed to come back to see his father, rather than grappling with a myriad of complicated feelings about the whole thing and can’t decide if he wants to witness it or not.

But now he’s been asked so directly, it would feel even weirder to refuse. Lucas clears his throat and gets to his feet, reluctantly following Grace and the nurse through the double doors and into the deeper bowels of the hospital.

INT. HOSPITAL - KENNETH’S ROOM - DAY

When the three of them arrive, KENNETH FRIAR is already chatting up and charming the other nurse administering his morning medications. The doctor from yesterday was right -- he seems in surprisingly good spirits, not missing a beat despite the fact that he’s definitely looked better. You might even believe he’s just in for a routine visit, if you didn’t know he was dying.

Grace dutifully comes to stand by his bedside while Lucas awkwardly hangs by the wall, mainly trying to stay out of the way. Kenneth wasn’t expecting to see him, but with his good graces today, he decides to make him feel welcome.

Kenneth: Good to see you, bud. Wasn’t sure if you were here or not.

It’s a bit of a dig, actually, but Lucas is so disarmed by the nickname it doesn’t even register. Kenneth hasn’t called him that in years, basically since he was a toddler, and it became far more infrequent the more the friction between them grew and Kenneth’s temper grew less resilient. It feels like whiplash -- like pulling the stitches out of an ancient wound.

Unfortunately, the nurses won’t be able to do anything about this one.

So Lucas says nothing, offering a pathetically strained smile in response instead. Kenneth doesn’t seem all that impressed by it, but they’re distracted anyway when the doctor returns and greets them all with as much cheer as you can muster with a dying patient.

Someone might want to give that memo to Kenneth, though. For all his charm, he actually seems optimistic about the whole thing. Yes, things are bad, but maybe a rest in the excellent care of the hospital is just what he needs to rebound. Maybe he’ll pick back up before long -- he feels good enough now that he’s gotten hydrated and has the help of these lovely nurses.

Maybe it’s not so helpless after all. Who knows?

Lucas dips his head to the floor, not sure whether the denial or possibility that could be the truth is more discomforting.

EXT. YACHT - UPPER DECK - DAY

The first morning of official retreat business, Yindra finds her way out onto the upper deck before 9AM. As promised, breakfast is being catered for them, laid out on a long table manned by staff (to keep anything from blowing away with the refreshing sea breeze). There are four round tables set up to dine at, but one is relegated solely for the organizers and executives still present for the actual events of the retreat.

All around them, the view is nothing but ocean. If there was any hope of jumping ship -- metaphorically speaking -- that option has long since sailed.

In that respect, Yindra is very grateful she already has a lifeboat in her roommate. Once she plates her food and thanks the staff, she turns to scan the tables and has that new-kid terror of not knowing where to settle. It appears some personalities are already beginning to clash -- Tabitha and Sloane have chosen seats at opposite ends of the deck, though it’s not clear who chose to make it that way -- while others are already bonding together. Aleena and Ronica are seated at one table and chatting easily, commiserating with a couple other hopefuls closer to their mid-20s than teens.

Having already clocked Ronica as a rival by inheritance, Yindra doesn’t think she could break into that circle if she wanted to. That’s why it’s a relief when Heather waves her over at the third table, where she’s saved her a seat. Yindra comes to join her without missing a beat, greeting the other girls they’ve chosen to sit with.

Heather: [ quietly, to Yindra ] Throwback, right? Feels just like high school. Yindra: Girl, you have no idea.

Heather laughs, popping some fruit into her mouth. But damn, would it be nice to have some of those high school friends around right about now…

INT. YINDRA’S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - DAY

Jade is catching up with Nigel on a video call, the two of them chatting about Yindra’s great foray into the industry unknown. Both of them are confident about her prospects, but the idea of going on a retreat with people just as eager for the opportunity as you does feel too intimidating for two introverts.

Nigel: It would be like going away on a boat, with no exit, with fifteen Mayas for a weekend. Like, what are the odds of survival? Jade: Despite the bizarre fact that I think Maya may actually be growing on me -- don’t tell Asher I said that -- yeah, I could never. Nigel: Your secret is safe with me. But if I were on that boat, I’d be jumping.

Jade laughs, settling onto her bed. We get the chance to see how she and Yindra have rearranged the space to accommodate both of them, making the most of the small space and giving cozy college roommates vibes. Nigel comments on that new arrangement, glad that Jade has found a safe and familiar place to settle but still not sure how he feels about his best friend and girlfriend shacking up.

Jade: Don’t worry, she’s not going to steal me away. Though if anyone could… Nigel: Yeah, yeah, we know. Yindra has game. No one ever kidded themselves that I was the suavest of our friend group, believe me.

Jade smiles affectionately, blowing him a kiss through the camera. While the topic is on the table, Nigel tries to take advantage of it without being too suss… speaking of their relationship, how is Jade feeling about it? Since she hopped coasts, how is she feeling about long distance?

Jade: Good. Weirdly enough, I actually don’t think it’s made that much of a difference? I mean, obviously I miss you. It takes a bit more work. And some days after too much needle work, boy do I crave one of those neck kisses you’re so good at -- Nigel: [ clearing his throat ] Well… Jade: [ with a mischievous smile ] And that too. I miss your utterly ridiculous embarrassment about anything remotely beyond PG even though it’s just the two of us talking and we’ve been dating for a year. It’s adorable. But otherwise, I’m doing okay. Think we’re handling it pretty well. [ a beat ] Why? Are you not okay? Nigel: No! No, no, I’m good. I’m also -- all of that. I echo it, one-hundred percent.

He was just… curious. That’s all. How they seemed to be faring with it all. Good news, it seems, but he just wanted to check in.

And because maybe, just perhaps, their distance might be that much longer before too long. Nigel doesn’t say that, letting the conversation move on, but it’s on his mind as he files her response away for later.

INT. YACHT - LOWER DECK - DAY

For the first true retreat activity, they’ve relocated to the lower deck. Most of the space is dedicated to a green room-esque conference space, which for this weekend they’ll be using as a multipurpose activity room. There’s a long table at the end where the label reps and organizers will sit throughout the events.

To start off, they’ll be doing a harmonizing workshop in an effort to see how different combinations of their voices sound together. There will also be opportunities for small solos throughout, but the time to show off their vocals will come later. For now, this exercise is about blend and harmony.

Simple enough. Yindra believes she can handle that. They get broken into groups of five to start, based on the voice parts they identified with in their paperwork and intro videos. Then, they’re handed some sheet music of popular music that they’re expected to quickly pick up -- a sight-singing test, in a way.

From where she’s been grouped with Kimmy and Sloane, along with two other girls, Yindra exhales a deep breath. She’s not the best at sight-singing, but she got enough practice at Adams. When they receive their sheet music, Kimmy makes a small noise of nervousness of her own.

Kimmy: Gosh, I don’t think I’ve done this since choir class in junior year.

Sloane is also squinting at the page, but she doesn’t look anxious as much as she does unimpressed.

Sloane: Top 40 I see. Suppose we won’t be breaking the mold much sound-wise with this, will we…

It’s an industry-produced girl group, babe -- you’re not doing musical rocket science. Yindra doesn’t comment, keeping her focus on her own work. They’ve got a minute to review their parts before they start doing run-throughs, so no time to waste. But no pressure…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “No Pressure” as performed by Mahalia || Performed by Yindra Amino (feat. Girl Group Hopefuls)

Though not what they’re actually singing in the exercise, Yindra’s emotions leak through in what she sings with this groovy R&B track. It’s an apt reflection of what this process in the industry has felt like so far -- something that the other girls there can probably relate to as well. Fitting, as they harmonize on the backing vocals and take a few of the solo lines as the activity unfolds.

While the performance continues, we watch transitions between each combination of ladies in camera rotations and subtle fades. Girls are swapped in and out like dolls, just pawns in the larger game rather than individuals.

When Ronica takes Yindra’s place at one point and sings one of the solo riffs in the number, we can see the anxiety build on Yindra’s shoulders. Ronica is talented, with a great voice -- and she rests exactly in the same range as Yindra. If they weren’t technically competition before, they certainly are now, even if just strictly from a vocal perspective.

Can't go wrong with the right team, no pressure You ain't never gonna get no, get no better

This process of revolving ladies and morphing harmonies goes on until the track peters out, leaving us with the view of Yindra on the sidelines. Just benched for now, while another combination is being tested -- but dreading that it’s an early signal of what’s to come.

No better, no pressure…

INT. MALIBU LAKE HOUSE - RECORDING STUDIO - DAY

Pressure might just be the word of the weekend, as Maya is the one feeling it now. Even though she came into the songwriting retreat with high hopes, it’s off to a rocky start. She’s been in the studio room with Melissa and Justin basically all afternoon, but they’ve got nothing yet to show for it.

Basically, the creative juices are not flowing. Every seemingly bright idea seems to hit a dead-end. Justin is starting to lose interest, reclined back on the leather couch and tossing a hacky-sack absent-mindedly while Melissa and Maya continue to mine their collective brain power for any good start.

The main problem, it appears, is that for all her efforts to relinquish some control, Maya still finds herself clashing with her producing team. They all have ample enthusiasm, but their vision for what Maya should do next seems to have fundamental friction. They want more of what’s already proven to work; Maya wants to push boundaries and stretch her sound, at least once before this EP finishes. She doesn’t want to get pigeon-holed before her career even really starts.

Ultimately, a disjointed vision can only lead to uninspired collaboration. After another thought goes nowhere, Melissa’s energy starting to wane as well, Justin gets to his feet and declares he’s gonna order lunch.

Maya: Now? Shouldn’t we push through until we have… I don’t know, a starting concept? Maybe a verse? Justin: Babe, if we wait for that to happen, we’ll be skin and bone. [ heading for the door ] I’m thinking pizza. We can splurge, because it’s the company’s dime. Mel, pineapple or no? Melissa: Fuck you.

Justin laughs as he exits, claiming he’ll go pick it up along with some other goods for the weekend. Once he’s gone, Melissa releases a sigh, rubbing her temples.

Melissa: Maybe we should just outsource to the label for the rest of this EP. I’m sure they’ve got other “Haute Stuff” in their repository. If we can round out this project with solid bangers, that’ll buy us some more time to -- Maya: No!

Maya is almost too quick to reject that idea. She doesn’t mean to bulldoze -- not this early, anyway -- but she feels strongly that she needs to have as large a presence as possible in her output. She doesn’t want to be another hack, and she has the deep instinct that becoming a one-note wonder is going to be a death sentence. It might bring in the money, but it won’t lend her the credit and accolades she desires. It won’t help her ascension to true pop relevance.

Melissa raises her hands in surrender, claiming she’s with Maya on this. She wants them to craft their own hits if they can hack it.

That just means they better start getting some good ideas, and fast. Maya chews her lip, feeling the heat.

INT. YACHT - LOWER DECK - DAY

The heat persists on the open seas as the girls move into their next activity -- dance workshop. As is traditional with many girl groups, choreography will be a big part of their jobs, and proficiency in keeping the beat and selling moves will be a major must. So they’re teaching them a routine today that they’ll be tested on later, to see how they deliver it.

Theoretically, this shouldn’t be a big deal for Yindra. She went to Adams, where there was no shortage of choreography. Many of her good friends are into dance, so some of that has rubbed off on her. She knows she can hold her own and step through an intermediate routine.

But in a competition as tight as this, holding her own might not be enough. Even as they’re learning the routine and doing soft run-throughs, it’s hard not to feel like she’s falling to the back of the pack. Immediate standouts emerge -- Aleena’s movements are confident and fluid, demonstrative of her obvious dance training. Sloane is a surprisingly strong dancer, sharp and precise and not afraid to show off her flexibility. Kimmy’s stated love for dance shines through even now, full of energy and natural personality. And although she’s full of hot air and her TikTok dances are silly at best, Madysin can carry a beat.

Yindra isn’t the worst dancer there, but she’s far from the best. If she only ranks “middle of the pack” in the categories that matter, that’s only gonna put her somewhere in the top ten -- and not guaranteed as one of the final five who make the group.

She’s lost in her head about it enough to lose focus and miss a couple of steps on this run-through, causing Tabitha to run into her with her bony elbows. She shoots her a disgruntled look, which Yindra grimaces at apologetically. Her bad.

And man, how much badder is it going to get?

Choreographer: Nice, ladies. Let’s put it all together now and see how it goes. [ clapping them in ] Five, six, seven --

EXT. YACHT - UPPER DECK - DAY

On a much-needed break, Yindra escapes to the deck to get some fresh air. It’s the only place she can flee, anyway -- they’re on a boat. She leans against the railing and closes her eyes, letting the sea breeze brush her face and trying to calm her nerves.

Yindra: Zay Babineaux, give me the strength…

Dance blessings are seriously what she needs right now! She’s startled slightly when someone steps over to join her, but it’s a relief when it’s only Heather. And she comes bearing gifts -- a virgin cocktail from the kitchen. They’ve earned it after this day so far, being grilled from every angle.

Heather: Alcohol would’ve been preferred, trust me. But best I can do.

Yindra scoffs a laugh, thanking her anyway and accepting the drink. As they sip their cocktails, Heather starts to commiserate about the experience so far… and given their insecurities, it’s hard not to gossip.

Heather: I don’t know if you noticed, but that Sloane girl has a killer high-kick. Thought she was gonna knock my teeth out. Yindra: OMG, I know. I was surprised. I wouldn’t rule it out either. Heather: Total surprise. I got the impression she wasn’t into this whole thing, just based on her attitude. That showing at dance didn’t track though. Yindra: … no, for real. When we were doing the harmonies workshop, she legit said some shady stuff about the music we were rehearsing with. Like this is probably going to be par for the course of… whatever this ends up being. You know that, right? Heather: Ugh, that’s so fucked. I can’t stand that. Like, if you’re not into this whole thing, why are you here? When there’s girls like us who are dying for this opportunity?

It is a choice… although, Yindra can kind of understand it. Not just because she has experience with folks like Zay, but also because a girl group wasn’t her first choice either. It wasn’t how she envisioned her career going, but it’s a path, and in this industry it feels like you better take what you can get. She may not echo Sloane’s dismissive attitude, but she can relate to the sense of having to follow a trail you aren’t sure you want to go down.

She gets the nuances, but she doesn’t say them, because it’s way more gratifying to bitch about it with a friend and soak up the self-pity for a minute. Heather shrugs and offers a toast, tapping her glass against Yindra’s.

Heather: Made it this far, at least. Cheers, bitch. Yindra: Cheers.

And who knows what’s to come.

INT. L.A. APARTMENT - NIGHT

Having returned for the evening, Isa is slouched on the couch while waiting for Farkle to return from his room. They’re fiddling with their phone, instinctively going into their message thread with Zachary and exiting again when they think better of it. What is there to say, anyway?

They ruined everything; they left. That should be the end of that, for the best of everyone involved.

Farkle seems to read their mind when he reenters, flopping over the arm of the arm chair and reclining into it as he asks if Zachary has reached out. Isa claims no, pocketing their phone.

Isa: Don’t blame ‘em. Farkle: They probably just don’t know what to say. It’s kind of a whack situation -- I don’t know that I’d know what to do either. Isa: You, not knowing how to handle a fiasco? Shocking. Farkle: Hey, I wouldn’t be throwing stones. Your glass house is looking especially shiny right now.

Isa rolls their eyes. Anyway, they make a point of thanking Farkle again for letting them seek refuge here regardless of what happens. They know they’re intruding.

Farkle: Dude. You’re our -- my -- friend. Anyway I can help, you know you don’t even have to ask.

Even so, Isa seems uncomfortable with the intrusion. They state that if this persists too long, they’ll try to figure out alternate accommodations fast -- whether that’s a temporary dig here, or going back to New York sooner than expected. They don’t want to take advantage… and they don’t necessarily want to push things with Maya. Farkle frowns.

Farkle: I swear, she doesn’t mind. I can talk to her about -- Isa: No. No, it’s fine. Like I said, I’ll figure it out. Thanks though.

Farkle doesn’t seem convinced, but Isa changes topics. They’re starving -- what’s for dinner? There’s a lot of variety to choose from in Los Angeles, so the world is their oyster. But that doesn’t make Farkle any less indecisive.

Isa: Yeesh. Jordan really did sand you down, didn’t he? Where’s the overly opinionated, obnoxious tastemaker of Adams Academy? [ kicking his shin with their foot ] Hello, anyone in there?

Farkle’s turn to roll his eyes. He fends off Isa’s socked feet with his own and then shrugs.

Farkle: To be fair, I don’t think that mellowing started with Jordan. I would attribute that more to spending a full year stuck between you and Maya, two of the loudest -- Isa: [ ignoring that ] Don’t overthink it. I want your real, most base desires right now. I’m saying it’s dinner time -- what do you want to eat? What comes to mind? First thing. Now. NOW. Farkle: Okay, okay! Um, ahh [ blurting it out ] New York style pizza!

Isa raises their eyebrows, somewhat amused. Seriously? All the culinary world at his fingertips, and that’s what Farkle picks?

Farkle: Sorry, you put pressure on me. I panicked. And I don’t know, you said you wanted base. It can’t get much more base than that. Isa: I’m just surprised. You didn’t even like pizza that much when we were in New York. Farkle: Yes, well, the heart wants what it wants. And you don’t really know what you’ve got until it’s gone.

Anyway, it’s lame, perhaps, but Isa asked for it. That’s all he’s got. If they want to tease him and pick something better, be his guest.

But Isa isn’t going to judge him. They aren’t going to deny him a basic bitch moment -- and they aren’t snooty enough to think they could do better. Instead, they claim they’re going to find some damn New York style pizza then, reaching for his laptop and starting a Google search.

Farkle can’t help but smile, gaze lingering just a bit while Isa is distracted with their research.

INT. MALIBU LAKE HOUSE - NIGHT

Meanwhile, the night holds very different prospects for the lake house retreat. Melissa and Maya are debating what to do for dinner themselves when there’s a knock at the door, both of them exchanging an intrigued look. Justin went out to grab weed an hour or so ago, but he wouldn’t be knocking… would he?

Apparently so. When Melissa goes to open the door, it’s not just Justin on the other side. He seems to have brought along half the neighborhood with him -- a bunch of young creatives looking for a good time.

Justin: Thought we could use a little pick-me-up… and I may have just taken it to an extreme.

But what better way is there to loosen up? That’s that -- they’re hosting a rager tonight. That’ll get their energy back up, not to mention it’s a great opportunity to network. Maya and Melissa exchange smiles.

Maya: Let’s party!

Yeehaw! The crowd cheers as Justin leads them inside, just as a bass-heavy, catchy party tune briefly fills the soundscape. And no one does it better, particularly for millennials…

INT. MALIBU LAKE HOUSE - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Backstabber” as performed by Kesha || Instrumental

A montage unfurls the party for us, showing the progression of the night in high energy, fun bursts. It’s about as classic Hollywood vignette as you can get, full of interesting, pretty people and plenty of interesting substances. Justin and Melissa make excellent hosts, gregarious and generous with their space, and it’s clear that they’re known entities in this part of Malibu.

Maya fits into their world near seamlessly, to her credit. Her charm is on full blast as she sips a mixed punch out of a red Solo cup, but she’s more focused on making good impressions. Given her starry personality and undeniable good looks, it’s not hard.

The only snag in her rapport comes when Justin invites her over to meet one of his female producing friends by the bar, KELSI (30s), pointing out that they were just about to take a line of cocaine -- a staple of most industry gatherings like this. Does she want to join?

Justin: Kelsi here is the master of lining ‘em up right. Kelsi: It doesn’t take a PhD, J. You just have shaky hands.

Justin fakes offense, patting his chest like he’s been wounded. Maya ignores the exchange, eyeing the powder cut into lines on the bartop apprehensively. She’s dabbled in lighter fare before -- like weed with Isa and Farkle now and then back in senior year -- but this feels like a whole other level. And that was with friends; that was in a scenario where she was sure she was safe.

But this is safe too, isn’t it? She trusts Melissa and Justin -- they wouldn’t put her in a dangerous situation. Not when they have both personal and professional interest in one another and maintaining this relationship. And what does she know about safety -- look at her and Isa and Farkle now. It’s a clusterfuck.

Even so, her instincts win out this time. She politely declines to partake, and despite Justin’s playful boo-ing in response, they take it in stride. She’s spared from having to dwell on it further when Melissa comes over and claims she has friends she wants to introduce her to, dragging her away.

Justin and Kelsi go on their way, leaning over the counter to take their hits. The music builds until the bass almost feels unbearable --

INT. HOSPITAL - WAITING AREA - NIGHT

Until it cuts off abruptly, drawn in sharp contrast to the oppressive quiet of the hospital.

Asher is taking his first shift with Lucas alone, staying with him until non-familial visitors are required to leave for the night. The two of them aren’t talking much, but Lucas doesn’t seem bothered by that -- he honestly prefers it. It’s part of what made them compatible friends in the first place, being able to enjoy companionable silence. Asher sits cross-legged in his chair and idly spins a fidget spinner.

Waiting for nothing doesn’t make it easier, though. Lucas is restless, slouched in his chair and bouncing his leg compulsively. He watches the nurses and doctors that come in and out of the back hallways like a hawk, not sure whether he wants them to be coming for him or not. Not sure if he wants news, or never wants to hear another word about his father.

After another minute of this, Asher reaches out and gently touches Lucas’s knee, freezing his movement. When Lucas glances at him, he offers a nonchalant explanation.

Asher: You’re making me nauseous.

It’s his matter-of-fact delivery that somehow breaks the tension. Lucas releases a chuckle, stretching his legs out to deter further bounce.

Lucas: Sorry. [ off his unbothered shrug ] Does that actually do anything? Asher: What? Lucas: That… toy. Thing. Asher: Oh, the spinner? Weirdly, yeah. Like, I doubted it for a long time too, but bizarrely, it does help. Just like… anxious tendencies. I’ve started using it a lot more in class, if I start to feel weird during lectures. I don’t know what it is, exactly, but I feel like the mindless movement of using your hands kind of distracts the brain or something. Makes it less effective at needless panic. [ brightening ] Oh, that reminds me --

Good thing Lucas brought it up. Asher reaches into his messenger bag and retrieves something from the inner pocket. He passes it to Lucas, who accepts it with mild confusion.

A Spongebob-themed fidget spinner.

Asher: There you go, try it for yourself. Good thing you reminded me. Dylan wanted me to give that to you -- since he couldn’t be here now, he thought he could at least let you borrow that in his stead until he could be.

Of course. Lucas turns it over in his fingers, observing the faded yellow and chipped paint from many a Dylan fidget.

Lucas: Looks like it’s seen better days. Asher: It’s one of his oldest ones. Not to mention his favorite. Unsurprisingly, he was the one who convinced me to try using one for myself -- though his use stems from the ADHD.

Well, not like Lucas has any reason to object. Or anything better to do, other than sit there and let his thoughts consume him. He glances at Asher to get a feel for the motions, how he’s supposed to hold it and all that, but fidget spinners are one of the most user-friendly inventions there is. There’s not really a wrong way to go about it.

Another minute of quiet. This time, Lucas breaks it.

Lucas: It’s kind of ironic that both of my most experienced friends in this field aren’t here right now. You know… dead parents. Asher: True. Though life rarely operates in helpful methods. Lucas: Does he ever talk to you about it? [ a beat, cautious ] His mom?

Asher contemplates the question, thinking about how best to respond.

Asher: Not a lot? Sometimes. When we were earlier in our relationship, I’d prompt him to talk about it sometimes, just because I felt like he wouldn’t ever if I didn’t. You know Dylan, I mean, you kind of have to nudge him into talking about the gloomier stuff, even if it would do him good. But I don’t think he’s necessarily avoiding it either, at least not consciously. Lucas: Yeah. Asher: Honestly, I think it’s mostly just that he doesn’t really have a lot to say about it. He loved his mom, still does, but the truth is he doesn’t really remember her. Or any of what happened. He was only like, seven when she passed away. Grant was even younger. I think he likes to believe he remembers way more than he actually does, but none of it is the actual death. I guess you don’t really retain that stuff the same way, when you’re younger.

Unlike now, when Lucas is two decades into life and already blessed with trauma to last him a lifetime.

Asher: That’s not to say he wouldn’t be helpful if he were here. That’s kind of Dylan’s charm, you know, that he’s useful in any situation. Just how he is. But I don’t think his experience could really be called expertise. Because of his age, and because… you know, it just… isn’t the same. Kenneth is… Lucas: Different.

Yeah… can’t say much more than that. And Lucas doesn’t seem keen to either, his conversational burst ebbing away as swiftly as it appeared. Asher doesn’t push him, giving him an empathetic glance before letting his attention drift back to his spinner.

Lucas keeps his blank gaze towards the hospital doors, waiting for nothing, fingers absentmindedly turning the fidget spinner.

INT. YACHT - MAIN FLOOR - NIGHT

That evening, the girls are gathered in the cozy main floor. The organizers claim they’re giving them the “night off,” which is instead being spent on some girl bonding time. They’ll be watching movies, true slumber party style! The pressure is off for the evening, so just vibe! Have fun! Get to know each other!

That’s a cute idea, albeit totally forced. And it’s not like the pressure is totally off, as the organizers and some industry reps are still present, hanging on the couches in the back of the room but still observing everything. Despite the cutesy presentation, it’s hard to shake the sense that this whole thing is just another test of some sort.

They get to choose the movie, out of a selection on a table, and some girls do not hesitate to jump in and try to dictate what they watch. Tabitha immediately goes for Bring It On, declaring it the winner.

Kimmy: I was going to say Clueless. I love that movie. Sloane: Lots of chick flicks here… it’s almost as if we’re a boat full of women. What ingenious thinking… Tabitha: Whatever, I called first. Heather: Um, who died and made you queen, friend? Madysin: Yeah, I vote with Kimmy. Clueless supremacy. Tabitha: This isn’t a democracy, girls. It’s a cheerocracy. And I declare you all overruled.

Fierce debate continues, pulling more girls into the discussion. It’s all playful, mostly, though there is a subtle edge to it all just under the surface. Sloane loses interest quickly and slouches onto a couch in the far corner.

Yindra stays out of it, for better or worse, keeping to her perch on one of the other couches. Aleena is seated a spot or two away, and can’t help but make commentary.

Aleena: Letting a bunch of competitive women fight over what movie to watch, but dressing it up as an adorable slumber party vibe -- yeah. That’ll bond us in no time. That’s how the female brain works, after all.

She said it mostly to herself, but Yindra can’t help but snort. She casts a glance in Aleena’s direction, the two making eye contact… then after a moment they exchange smiles.

It doesn’t last long, as Ronica returns from the kitchen to bring drinks over for her and Aleena. Once she settles back down between them, Yindra feels like she has to turn away. Which feels equally stupid -- they’ve all known each other for twenty-four hours. Why does she have this feeling that dynamics are set in stone, that she has to have these rivalries with people she doesn’t even know?

Guess the industry has a way of bringing it out in you -- with basically no effort.

Ronica: Are they done picking yet? Aleena: Mm, no, the fun is just getting started. Ronica: Typical. Glad I didn’t wait for drinks.

Indeed. And the drama is heating up a bit -- Tabitha and Madysin have gotten into a heated argument with two of the other younger girls, enough of a spat that the organizer feels the need to step in and ask them to simmer down. Kimmy politely raises her hand.

Kimmy: Could we maybe do a vote instead? That way it’s fair for everyone. Organizer: That sounds like a great idea, thank you, Kimmy.

So democracy wins after all! Kimmy smiles. Tabitha rolls her eyes, crossing her arms.

All that over a pick for a stilted movie night… well, two more days to go. Yindra clasps her hands together and takes a deep breath, settling in for a long evening.

EXT. L.A. APARTMENT - ROOFTOP - NIGHT

As promised, Isa and Farkle have obtained a New York style pizza. They’ve decided to eat it up on the rooftop for the ambience, each peeling off their first large slice and trying not to make a mess as they eat over the box. Isa folds their slice in half and offers it in a toast towards Farkle, who smiles and knocks their crust together.

Once they start to dig in, Isa questions why Farkle didn’t bother to cave to his base impulses sooner than this. Like, one night of less-than-couture cuisine surely won’t ding his trendy new Los Angeles reputation. Farkle snorts, dismissing that sentiment, but it doesn’t take long to identify the source of the reluctance. Once he’s done chewing, he confides it.

Farkle: Jordan was a picky eater. Not so much in taste, but like… in taste. He wanted to be doing the new thing, the fresh thing, always one step ahead. And in some ways that was cool, like I really liked getting to be in on the trends and kind of have this insight into it all. You know, as someone who is perpetually and effortlessly uncool. So I appreciated that about him -- Isa: [ with their mouth full ] Mm-mm. No. We’re not complimenting him. Save the sugarcoating and down-playing for someone who cares. Farkle: [ out of habit ] He seriously wasn’t that --

Isa shakes their head and interrupts his weak defenses, reaching over the pizza box to press a sauce-slicked finger against his lips. No Jordan defenses. Farkle wrinkles his nose and starts to shove their hand away, but then thinks better of it and licks the sauce on their finger instead.

Isa pulls their hand away and scrunches their face, pretending to gag, but they can’t ignore the tiny, odd thrill that rises in their stomach at the same time. They choose to ignore it.

Farkle: Anyway, I guess part of it was that. Because at first, when I got here, I just wanted to… like, fit in, and do this right, and not ostracize myself from the jump since I’m so good at doing that. So I second-guessed myself because of that. Then, when Jordan came into the picture, it was that only tripled, because I wanted to impress him and not do anything that might lessen his perception of me. Including being inclined to enjoy knock-off New York pizza when I’m surrounded by the culinary treasures of Los Angeles.

Isa frowns slightly. They can’t help but wonder when Farkle picked up those insecurities -- when he suddenly decided it was worth caring what everyone else thinks.

Isa: For the record, I think anything you like is inherently and fundamentally leagues better than whatever Jordan Nelson thinks is top-tier. Just saying. Farkle: Uh-huh, sure. You’re not biased or anything. Isa: Not at all. Farkle: In any case, doesn’t matter now. Since, that’s… you know. Over. [ with a laugh ] You know, it’s kind of funny, but considering how everyone was jumping down my throat about him -- rightfully so -- I expected the news of his departure to be way more celebratory. Like, when I told Maya, I’m surprised she didn’t throw a damn party. Or at least say I told you so. If anyone would have been happy, I would’ve assumed her.

Isa shrugs, taking a bite of their pizza.

Isa: I don’t think it’s weird at all. Farkle: Seriously? You, the runner-up royalty of loving to be right, don’t think it’s strange that Maya, the queen of loving to be right, wasn’t thrilled that I finally dumped her least favorite person on planet Earth? Isa: Hey, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. That role is reserved for Asher and Asher alone in Maya’s heart. [ off his eye roll ] But no, it’s not surprising to me. Farkle: Why not? Isa: Maya is your best friend. She loves you more than anyone else. Like, she’d defend any of her friends -- albeit with occasional bragging, if applicable -- but you’re a different league. You’re special to her. She would go to hell and back for you, and even if she were right, she would never rub it in your face if you got hurt. It’s different with you.

A feeling Isa knows all too well… while Farkle processes that perspective, they can’t help but vocalize it.

Isa: You’re special, Farkle. I always figured you knew that, given… your whole being, but if you don’t I’m saying it now to make it abundantly clear. You are one of a kind, and I hope it’s more than obvious now that Jordan is a pretentious shit who never deserved you. You deserve someone who gets you, where you don’t have to feel like you have to second-guess everything you do. [ a beat ] You need someone who knows how special you are.

Pretty specific criteria… and something Isa seems pretty confident speaking about. But once they’ve said so, it’s like it’s glued them in place. Farkle just looks at them, taking in their words, and Isa can’t seem to look away; to disrupt the static or break their gaze.

In fact, it kind of feels like gravity holding them in place. Pulling them closer… Isa might even be stupid enough to lean in…

But no. That’s insane. Farkle just broke up with Jordan, and he’s vulnerable right now. He’s looking for comfort; he’s looking for a friend. That’s all this moment is -- that’s all they are.

So Isa redirects before they can do anything unwise, glancing down at the pizza box between them.

Isa: Not gonna lie, though, this pizza is kinda ass.

Farkle bursts into laughter, before admitting he has to agree. Though what were they expecting, trying to find authentic New York style pizza in L.A.? It’s a travesty, really. They banter back and forth a bit about what to do with it -- Farkle supposes they’ll have to torture themselves with finishing it, since they did put the time and effort into obtaining it, but Isa brushes that off. Life’s too short for bad pizza! Carpe diem!

Farkle: Well, what are we supposed to do with it, exactly?

Isa shrugs coyly, grabbing the pizza box and getting to their feet. They rattle off some nonsense about fate and happenstance and oh, what if the wind just happened to snatch their happiness and carry their pizza away… before “accidentally” stumbling and tossing the pizza box off the side of the roof.

Farkle gasps, cursing and getting to his feet.

Farkle: Holy shit -- Isa: Whoops!

Whoops indeed -- especially for the poor residents of Larchmont unfamiliar with the unique chaos of Farkle Minkus and Isa De La Cruz. Because seconds later, they hear a loud cuss from down below.

Unfortunate Passerby: What in the everloving fuck?!

WHOOPS! Suppose better a falling pizza than say, a piano or an anvil. Nevertheless, Isa and Farkle are beside themselves. Isa breaks into cackles as they fumble back towards Farkle and duck down into a crouch, as if the victim of their pizza prank will float up and come looking for them. Farkle kneels down next to them, equally punchy, easily won over by the unapologetic disaster that is Isa.

At this rate, with all their laughter, someone might assume they were drunk up there causing all this havoc. But in fact, that’s just the effects of being with each other.

INT. MALIBU LAKE HOUSE - NIGHT

The party is still rolling at the lake house, but Maya is starting to lose her spark. She’s feeling a bit fish out of water, younger than most of the folks present and still the new kid in the mix. She’s still only nursing a mild intoxication from alcohol, while most of the other partiers are well into a high of a mix of substances.

It’s a vulnerable position to be in, standing alone on the sidelines while her hosts are busy hosting others. Justin and Melissa seem so effortlessly cool, chatting up their friends and right in their element in this industry scene. A scene Maya knows she’ll need to master, if she wants her career to go the way she wants.

She’s not used to this feeling, this sensation of feeling two steps behind.

But perhaps it shouldn’t be so unfamiliar. When she thinks about it, it’s been remarkably easy for her to be left behind in other ways. Her phone buzzing in her pocket almost serves as a cosmic reminder of that, gifting her a text from Farkle.

“Hey, hope the retreat is going well! Bet you’re writing some epic stuff. Just wanted to give you the heads up -- I don’t know what’s going to happen with Isa’s housing situation right now, but if they can’t manage to fix it, I feel like we should really consider letting them stay with us. I know things aren’t totally chill with you guys, and I wanna respect that, but I still think we should do it. I can find a way to keep the peace and make it work. We’ll talk more when you’re back, but wanted to just float it now”

For some reason, this hits Maya harder than she expects. Maybe it’s the Malibu vodka talking. Maybe it’s the sense that she just got Farkle back, just freed him from the clutches of a soul-sucking monster, only for him to turn around and jump off another cliff without waiting for her to catch up. She moved out here to be with him, to tackle this insane industry together, but it seems there’s always something -- or someone -- more important. He’s always got bigger things to focus on.

And theoretically, so does she. She has a new social scene right here, opening its arms to her. Justin and Melissa are giving her plenty of attention, lots of opportunities. They don’t see her as old news, but the next best thing. They believe in her.

She can’t afford to fall behind. Not now. Not when everyone else has already left her in the dust.

So she steels her resolve, ignoring Farkle’s text and pushing down whatever mixed feelings it tugged out of her gut. She weaves through the crowd until she finds Justin and Melissa again, just about to start a new line of coke.

Perfect timing. Maya grins and claims she hopes Justin cut it good this time -- she wants to give it a try.

This is met with excited cheers and a clap on the shoulders from Justin. Exactly the electric reception Maya had been hoping for.

She lets Melissa guide her towards the counter and faces the lines, just waiting for her to take the nose dive. With classic Maya determination, she gathers her blonde hair behind her and takes a deep breath. Before she leans down --

INT. HOSPITAL - WAITING AREA - NIGHT

The clock on the wall ticks on, reading just a few minutes after two in the morning. It’s just Grace and Lucas again in the seats, only this time Grace is the one still awake. Lucas has grown exhausted enough to doze off without realizing it, somehow contorting his body to curl up and huddle in on himself while his head is tilted against the wall. Suppose after a few years, you get used to making do and fitting into small corners of reprieve.

Much like him this morning, Grace isn’t making any effort to disturb his rest. She stays quiet as a mouse, only glancing up at him occasionally to ensure he’s still resting.

The peace doesn’t last much longer.

In the distance, beyond the double doors, a relentless high-pitched beeping picks up. The intercom above them suddenly crackles to life, a voice calmly stating code blue. It repeats it a couple of times, with eerie efficiency, loud enough to startle Lucas awake. He’s delirious for a second, totally forgetting where they are or why they’re there.

That blissful ignorance is also fleeting. Footsteps are heavy on the other side of doors, movement of people on a mission -- and then moments later, nurses and doctors push a gurney through the doors, headed fast for the ICU.

A gurney carrying Kenneth.

Lucas is damn well awake now. Both he and Grace leap to their feet, the latter stumbling slightly. Lucas reaches out to hold her steady, and she is brave enough to ask a nurse what is happening. When no one responds, Lucas picks up the slack, using some of his inherited presence from his ailing father. He has a way about him, it has to be said, that can demand attention.

Lucas: Hey!

A couple of nurses jump, whipping around. The rest carry on without them, pushing Kenneth through another set of doors. Now that they’ve got some attention, Lucas’s temporary confidence evaporates. So Grace takes over, again urgently asking what the hell is going on. Where are they taking Kenneth, and what’s code blue?

Nurse: Your husband suffered a sudden cardiac arrest at approximately 2:07AM -- Lucas: Cardiac arrest? Grace: Is he okay? Nurse: That’s what we’re hoping for. Luckily, he’s in just about the best place possible to suffer heart failure. Lucas: But is he going to be okay?

Well… they can’t answer that. They won’t know until they know. The nurses excuse themselves and chase after the group from earlier, leaving Grace and Lucas to absorb that shock alone. The reality that that could be it, that it could happen just like that -- that it really could happen at any moment, and they just have to accept that. As much as their logical minds may have known this, the rest of them can’t seem to catch up.

But no way are they getting any more sleep tonight. As the hypnotic bass line floats in…

INT. MALIBU LAKE HOUSE - NIGHT

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Pretty Little Birds” as performed by SZA || Instrumental

The transition away from the hospital almost feels like it’s happening in a dream, hazy and psychedelic. That’s the vibe Maya is immersed in right now, thoroughly enjoying the loose feeling and free mind of her first cocaine trip. The music is somewhat echo-y, and occasionally glitchy, like it’s skipping on a record player. She’s full of energy and confidence again, but it’s also numbed a bit by the earlier alcohol, so all in all it’s disorienting to see it from our angle.

The whole experience is artistically obscured, Maya enthusiastically grooving to herself in the shadows and slashes of light. It’s hard to tell if the party is even still going on, or where exactly she is -- because she’s mentally somewhere else entirely. Occasionally, she’ll pause in a beam of light and reach out to catch wisps of fog passing around her… ones that appear to be iridescent lines of music or lyrics, shimmering in her grasp for half a second until it floats away again.

Another night and day contrast between coasts, no matter how synthetic and fabricated it might be. For now, it’s freedom, and Maya will take it. She tilts her head back and launches into a spin, breaking into laughter as light begins to drown out the screen.

Once we’re swallowed by burning white --

INT. MALIBU LAKE HOUSE - MAYA’S ROOM - DAY

Sunshine is gleaming through the windows, indicating it’s well into the morning when Maya finally stirs back in reality. She’s still in her clothes from the night before, seemingly just having crashed on her bed after the wild night. She manages to sit up and runs a hand through her messy hair, having trouble shaking off the daze.

The strange part is, she honestly can’t remember much of it. She remembers she had fun, and that it was an interesting and energizing experience. But otherwise, it’s all a blur, a blank slate of nothing. It unsettles her a bit, actually. If that’s the trade-off, a bit of a bump to heighten the spirits doesn’t seem worth it.

That is, until she leans back and hears something crinkle loudly underneath her. She sits up and rolls onto her knees, discovering a bunch of papers ripped from her journals scattered on the bed. She must’ve fallen asleep with them last night. Confused, she picks them up and starts to flip through them.

It’s song ideas. New song ideas, and evidently not bad ones based on the way her expression lights up. So much for writer’s block -- she has a whole treasure trove here, that she must’ve apparently dashed out during her creatively buzzed cocaine high.

INT. MALIBU LAKE HOUSE - DAY

Melissa and Justin are both already up, chatting idly in the kitchen while they have coffee. They’re seasoned regulars to the L.A. coke scene, so they don’t have nearly as much of a hangover.

They greet Maya happily when she finally emerges from her room, remarking on how she hasn’t changed yet. Did she really just crash like that? They pick on her with fond amusement -- baby’s first coke dip!

Maya can humor the teasing, as she doesn’t have time to be indignant. She’s way too excited about the gold she discovered this morning, handing out the papers to both of them and claiming the blockade has ended. Whatever that party did last night, it worked. They’re back in business!

Based on their reactions, her excitement isn’t unfounded. This is definitely more than they had yesterday, so they’ll fucking take it! Melissa exchanges a high-five with Maya, while Justin comes around the counter and picks her up from behind to spin her around.

Justin: Fucking magic, this one. What am I always fucking saying? Melissa: A little partying always does the trick, that’s what.

Justin barks a laugh. True enough! Maya grins when her feet touch the floor again, buzzing with the praise. It feels good to be fawned over, supported, treated like she’s the next best thing.

It feels good to be heard.

[ 410 Hub ] [ Next (Part 1, half 2) → ]

#410

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jacobs604 · 2 years

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VISUAL MAPPING - All Annotations

1- Portraiture, great use of negative space & selective painting, 2- Another portrait study, I like the intent shown in the strokes and 'unfinished' feel, 3- An even more messy and abstracted portrait style showing great use of suggestive strokes. It shows the correct feature in so little detail.

4- A close-up eye area which has incredible softness and range of hue, 5- Amazing portrait similar to (1) but incorporates a background in a relaxed way, 6- Awesome composition in this painting with clever ways to command attention using colour and detail, 7- A neoclassical painting from the 1800s which depicts the assumption of the virgin mary. I recreated this 2m tall painting a few years ago and it shaped who I was as an artist for sure

8- Renaissance painting with an exciting canvas shape + composition, 9- A snippet from Michelangelo's Sistine chapel back wall, a project very influential to my own work thus far, 10- St. Jerome portrait, chosen as the range of value is fantastic and well balanced, 11- A poster with exciting use of photo manipulation that resembles the studies I have previously mentioned (1,2,3,5)

12- Terry Urban piece, which uses illustration rather than painting to show a relaxed unfinished, rough/grunge style, 13 + 14- Two alternative T Urban paintings which embrace messiness, colour, detail and incorporate a loose spray paint feel. These, in particular, have influenced quite a few of my past paintings & design. 15- Colourful illustration work that reminds me of childhood pastel drawings. Also, amazing texture was used.

16- Small b/w illustration showing cool texture and style, 17 + 18- Artwork by rapper LAUSSE THE CAT, follows grunge themes and fits perfectly with his music style. The content of his discography touches upon drug use, partying, growing up and other adult themes. 19+20, Publication by Nigel Tan shows an awesome blend of texture, photography and illustration + typically clean typography. This publication encapsulates a lot about what I love in communication design at the moment.

21- Cool use of blending 'boring' type with grungy paint bleeds and creates an excellent juxtaposition. 22+23- Two posters with clean typography that were 'ruined' by messy and mindless spray paint, pen, paint, etc. 24- Another publication shows this common theme of combining pure aspects with messy strokes. Reminds me of a lot of graffiti and also Jean-Michel Basquiat.

25- I like this poster due to the bold colour and clever negative space. It reminds me of a polished version of covering up graffiti. 26- Publication design with cool photography and limited bold colour + type as image. 27- Design system with a cool composition range, colour balance, + fantastic overlapping illustration elements. 28- Typography based poster by Emil Ruder, a Swiss graphic designer who mastered the principles of the Bauhaus art school.

29- Cool use of sans-serif type poster, which is also a kinetic type project. 30- Another poster from Swiss type legend Emil Ruder, 31- Awesome expansion from Swiss principles by showing an abstract composition,

32- Beautiful b/w architectural sketch that likely began my love for unfinished styled work years ago, 33- Architectural illustration displaying how simple it can be to render light + shadows, 34- A 3D render from Peter Tarka, which serves to me as a reminder for some past 3D work I created for years as a young teen. The composition, colour, and use of lighting are fascinating

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teachandwrite-blog · 2 years

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beautiful losers

There’s a beautiful, ingenious, wonderful, courageous documentary on Amazon Prime Video titled "Beautiful Losers."

Beautiful. What does that word mean to you? My college ring from UNC Chapel Hill has a Latin phrase etched on its side. Esse Quam Videri, to be is more important than to appear, the essence is more important than the video. Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self control - these are qualities you see, hear and know inside of beautiful people. These are essence. These are who beautiful people ‘be.’ These make people beautiful.

Losers. What does that word mean to you? “The first shall be last and the last shall be first,” says the good book. Do we believe this? Really? I think not but I hope so. For the last are usually humble, are usually the ones who know we are made from the dust of the earth, the ones who treat EVERYONE as if they are are filled with the breath of God. Have you seen the moment when American track athlete Isaiah Jewett was about to clinch 2nd place in the 800 meter race in the Tokyo Olympics? He became entangled with Botswana’s Nigel Amos, and the two collapsed on the track. It is unclear if Amos accidentally tripped Jewett or if Jewett accidentally tripped himself. But Amos reached out, held Jewett, and accompanied him to the finish line. And just as the came to the finish line, Amos took a step back so Jewett would finish a step before him. Two track athletes flying toward the finish line and one of the athletes gets tripped up and crashes to the track in agony and defeat. The athlete beside him, the athlete who has spent 10’s of thousands of hours to get to that moment of winning a medal lifts his competitor off the ground, and accompanies him across the finish line, both in last place, both as losers, yet both as models of what it means to be human, what it means to be beautiful.

Beautiful losers.

The documentary. created by filmmaker Aaron Rose, is about an underground, outsider, passionate, creative movement called (you guessed it) the "beautiful losers" movement.

With interviews by Shepard Fairey, Margaret Kilgallen, Barry McGee, Jo Jackson and like minded, like hearted creatives, the documentary helps us understand the meaning of being a beautiful loser, of doing beautiful loser things.

Heartfelt and quirky (like me), each of 14 stories look at artists who use graffiti, skateboarding, street music and other alternative mediums to help folks see and feel the world more clearly and deeply.

Do you know of Shepard Fairey?

He’s a street artist who created the iconic HOPE poster of Barack Obama that became THE symbol of the 2008 election.

Do you know any of the other artists in the documentary?

Some are graffiti artists, some are photographers, some are directors, some are painters and some are sculptors.

They are bound by a common philosophy - make something out nothing that becomes beautiful to losers (who are really winners in an upside kind of way).

As you see and hear the stories, you learn the artists were considered "losers" when they began their art became "beautiful" by joining together into a community of beautiful losers and encouraging each other to keep on creating.

The stories and art remind me that genius is found surprising places, and that I can discover it if only I have eyes that see and ears that hear.

If only I look and see with the eyes of my heart.

If only I listen and hear with the ears of my heart.

If you want to learn more about these beautiful losers then you can go to www.beautifullosers.com.

I encourage you to be a beautiful loser and create art every day!

I am.

I do.

#brown eyes #beautiful #keeper of the lost cities #astonishment

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macbetha · 3 years

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below the cut, you'll find an interest check chapter for quatervois, a nancy drew pc fic. it's francy and also my idea of my absolute dream game. please let me know what you think and enjoy!

+++

After Ned breaks up with her and she loses her father, Nancy struggles to find her old vigor for detective work. While on vacation in London with Bess and George, Nancy accepts the urgent invitation to return Blackmoor Manor. Her English getaway quickly turns into an investigation once Nancy realizes the true reason Nigel Mookergee asked her back to the moors. Finding Deirdre Shannon at the manor under the same pretense only sets Nancy’s nerves further on edge. It isn’t until the Hardy Boys show up in Blackmoor that Nancy gets a glimpse of who she once was. With a manor full of suspects and a glass heart cracked open, Nancy is determined to find the truth.

Dear Ned,

How are you? It’s been a while. I’ve always started off my letters telling you about my latest case, but I’m not on one right now. I’m sure that’s hard to believe. Bess and George have whisked me away to London. I’m sure you would love it here. This is the first time I’ve seen Bess and George since I sold the house in River Heights. I stayed with Kyler and Matt in Ireland for a while. I needed a change of scenery. Their daughter just turned two. I’m somewhat jealous I’m happy for them. Anyways, I miss you I hope you’re doing well. I’m sure New York is lovely at Christmas time. I hope Stephanie is I wish Stephanie well How is Stephanie? I hope Stephanie is doing all right. I appreciated the card Stephanie sent when dad passed away. Warm regards, Merry Christmas, Love Nancy

She stares down at the letter as if the red ink were her own blood. It feels just as wounding, seeing her emotions made physical in the words on the paper. Only when a tear splatters on the page does she break free from her trance to the past. Nancy is the only person in her hotel suite, yet she works to rid the evidence like one of her own suspects. She pulls her feet up in the desk chair and crosses her ankles, holding the arch of her right foot – it recently became the victim of her latest culprit. Nancy’s foot got caught under the getaway car’s tire, and she is lucky to even be able to walk after the event. Months later, it’s stiff as hell with the most intense cramps she’s ever endured. Heart racing to forget the night it happened, she focuses on the snowfall out the window – counting little sparkles of snowflakes, though the world blurs when she squints. The doctor thought her failing sight as well as the daily headaches were on account of being hit in the head so many times.

She busies herself with choosing a postcard to send Hannah and Nancy selects one with a cat dressed up as a royal guard. The cuteness puts a smile on her face, however small – she hopes it’ll do the same for Hannah, but there is no telling. Nancy had the gut-feeling Hannah was lying about recognizing her the last time Nancy visited the nursing home. Torment swirls like wind to fallen leaves. She doesn’t have Hannah or Togo to come home to. Togo passed just before Nancy’s thirty-second birthday, and Carson fell ill soon after that. Nancy looks to her hotel bed where Mr. Woogle Woggle sits tucked between two pillows. It seems he is the only one that hasn’t left her. A knock on her hotel door reminds her that is simply not true. Nancy rights herself, fixing her posture to the stance of someone passionate, and she opens the door. Bess and George greet her with blazing smiles; Nancy gives silent thanks for their presence in her life. She would still be in Scotland with Kyler and Matt, had Bess and George not insisted to take her on a vacation. Nancy imagines that their insistence was due to them wanting to keep Nancy from spending Christmas alone on the road again like last year. “Nancy,” Bess stresses. “You’re never going to guess who we ran into in the lobby!” Horror strikes dull and loud in her ears. Surely, it’s not Ned. Please, don’t let it be Ned. George says, “Give you a hint: they were involved in one of your cases.” Nancy’s despair leaves her throat tight. She glances down the hallway, preparing to yank Bess and George into her room and dial her Cathedral contact to get them set up in witness protection.

“That didn’t narrow it down at all, George,” Bess says with a roll of her eyes. “Nancy’s been on hundreds of cases.” Nancy’s strain creeps into her one word: “Who?” Bess and George beam. “Maya Nguyn!” ++

Nancy follows Bess and George to the elevator in a hurried stupor. No thoughts can she conjure as she steps free from the elevator walls which seem to close in on her; Nancy marches into the lobby and notices a woman in the crowd of tourists. She stands with her back to Nancy, her hair drawn up in a bun, and her chin is lifted high with no time for games. Maya turns around and her bright red mouth stretches into a smile. “Nancy!” “Maya,” Nancy huffs in disbelief. She tenses in Maya’s sudden embrace before all but falling into it. This is something good I did; Nancy cherishes with shut eyes. This is someone I helped. When Maya pulls back, Nancy says, “What are you doing all the way out here? You said in your last letter, you were still in Washington.” “My house is technically there,” Maya nods. “But I get to work on the road more these days.” Her brows crease over a sympathetic smile. “Bess and George tell me you’re kind of in the same boat.” Nancy shrugs, struggling to hold Maya’s concerned gaze. “It’s just easier,” Nancy lies. Maya seems to see right through it, but she doesn’t speak on it. Nancy will have to thank her later. George says, “Maya offered us free tickets to a play she’s reviewing tonight and get this – it’s at the Globe Theater!” “Remind me what’s so special about a globe theater,” Bess sighs, checking her nails. “Not ‘a’, Bess, the.” George shakes her head. “The Globe Theater – well, technically it’s a reconstruction of the first one, but it’s where Shakespeare wrote his plays.” “It’s the opening night of a new play,” Maya explains. “And Nancy, you’ll never guess who the star is.” Nancy cannot take anymore guessing games. “Brady Armstrong.” Maya blinks. “Well – yes, actually.” Nancy frowns. “Wait, really?” “Yes,” Maya laughs. “I’ll be conducting an interview with him after the show if you want to go backstage and chew him out for all the stunts he pulled back in the day.” A spark of vigor heightens Nancy’s senses. That doesn’t sound bad at all. Still – “Are you sure we won’t be a distraction or –” “Nancy.” Maya’s hand falls on her shoulder. “You saved my life. You’re the furthest thing from a distraction.” Gratitude floods her before Nancy nods. “All right, then.” +++ The walk to the Globe would be depressive what with the sky being the color of a soaked napkin, but the Christmas decorations lift everyone’s spirits. Nancy limps by a shop playing Christmas oldies through the open door and she is borne back to her father listening to records over cocoa on Christmas morning. She tries to push the memory from her mind, then she thinks of building snowmen with Ned and having snowball fights that turned into the sweetest kisses she’s ever received. The music won’t stop. There are three Christmas trees in the display window and their flashing lights strike pain behind Nancy’s eyes. She pants through a sensory overload before someone squeezes her hand. Maya smiles in understanding as Bess and George walk obliviously in front of them. “It’s hard,” Maya says. “This life on the road. You pick up a few habits.” Nancy squeezes her hand in thanks before tucking her own in her peacoat’s pocket. “I want to enjoy this,” she admits quietly. “But I think the holidays are always hard.” Maya nods. “It won’t be this way forever, Nancy,” she promises. “I’ve got my fingers crossed for you.” Cross your fingers, there’s a story behind this door! Nancy swallows around the lump of panic in her throat. She plasters on a smile. +++ The theater is packed with noise and touching and all-around boisterous patrons. They find their seats in the crowd and Nancy doesn’t watch where she’s going – she must keep her eyes on the open ceiling to remember how to breathe. She sits down at the end of the group and Maya passes out programs. Quatervois, the title reads. Bess says, “What does that mean?” “It means you’re at a crossroads,” Maya says. “A turning point.” “Sounds a little dramatic,” George grumbles. Nancy traces the swooping lines of the title with

her thumb, repeating the process until the lights go down. The masked chorus emerges from the shadows and gives a synopsis: Down from Olympus a great hero emerges, Mighty in his strength and courage! A choice he must make Shall he ignore fate? Will he choose love, Or follow his destiny there-of? When Brady saunters on stage in an impossibly short silk chiton, it’s an out-of-body experience for Nancy. He still hasn’t grown his ponytail back, so Simone could very well be in the audience right now. Nancy rubs her aching temple at the thought. Brady begins his journey as the character Diogenes, a demigod that was supposedly – according to the play’s plot – written out of ancient Greek mythos. Diogenes must defeat those who want to leave him forgotten in history, lest he admit that he can’t win this fight and live his life like everyone else. Nancy assumes the play’s ending too soon. She imagines this will be a droll experience written only to paint Brady as a glorious hero that can conquer anything – but she is quickly surprised. Brady is stabbed in the final act and addresses the audience in a wail: And so my story ends a breath too early, No time to even be weary! The moon shall pass over my corpse, And the sun will beat down on my ashes with no remorse. Today, I have failed my quartervois Alone, forgotten, and lost. When the curtain falls, Nancy’s mouth is parted in disbelief as a tear burns down her cheek. They don’t receive a proper goodbye with Maya since the rest of the crowd is bustling toward the exit. She does have time to say that Brady is producing a new television series and will be scouting some locations further into Essex; Maya will be following the film crew there for test shoots. She embraces each girl individually and holds Nancy for a beat longer, whispering, “You’ll call if you need to talk?” “Of course,” Nancy says by impulse. “Same to you.” +++ Nancy is proud of herself for going out, but when she closes the door to her hotel suite, her back thunks against the wall and she must take deep breaths for several minutes. She decides to treat herself to a bubble bath even though it’s nearly midnight. She rolls her hair up into a bun and looks at it in the mirror, how haphazard and messy hers is in comparison to Maya. Nancy isn’t jealous – but she can’t help but notice when people are thriving. She wants to figure out how to do it herself and hasn’t found the cure yet. The bath is claw-footed and deep. Nancy sinks into the steaming water before goosebumps rise on her arms, and her freckled skin blushes in the heat. The water does wonders for her foot. She eases her head back on the lip of the tub and nears a light doze when her cell phone rings. It rests atop a stack of towels by the tub. Nancy wipes her damp hand off before looking to the screen. Frank Hardy. Nancy answers and taps the speaker button to relax back in the tub. “Hey.” “Hi, Nance,” Frank says, his voice a familiar balm after such a stressful time. “What’s going on?” “Things aren’t too different from last week’s call,” Nancy smiles. “But I’m on vacation with Bess and George.” “Oh wow! That’s awesome. I hope it’s been fun.” Nancy’s glazed eyes blink. “Yeah,” she rasps. “It’s nice.” She clears her throat, searching for her old enthusiasm. “But what about you? How’s Joe?” “Same as usual, a pain in my ass.” Nancy chuckles before a distinctive lift raises Frank’s voice. “We’re actually getting ready to get on a plane for a case – but I wanted to make sure everything’s good with you.” Nancy’s hand closes in a fist on her raised knee. “Gosh, it’s been so long since I’ve been on a case.” “Not really. You just took a few months off to stay with Kyler, right?” “Yeah, but that’s the longest I’ve ever gone without a case since I started.” “I’d give you ours if I could,” Frank says. “Really not looking forward to such a long plane ride. Oh, they’re calling for our gate – but do you want me call you when I land?” Gratefulness is a warm glow in her heart. “No, that’s okay – but

thank you. Be safe on your trip and tell Joe I said hi.” “Can do.” Frank pauses. “I – tell Bess and George I said hi.” “Can do,” Nancy repeats. She chews her lip. “See you soon?” She feels foolish for saying something when Frank is headed to a case. While the weekly phone calls have kept Nancy sane, it would be even better to see the Hardy Boys. “I’ll make it happen,” Frank promises. “See you, Nance.” After they hang up, Nancy struggles to get out of the tub with her swollen foot. She gets into a pair of sweats and wraps up some ice in a washcloth, then holds it against her foot. Nancy mulls over her conversation with Frank, wondering how much of her poor mood could be due to not solving a mystery. With a deep yawn, she tosses the soaked washcloth in the wastebasket, not able to walk to the bathroom to put it in the sink. She cuddles up to her teddy bear and flicks the lamp off when her phone rocks to life on the nightstand. Bewildered, Nancy turns the lamp back on to look at the screen. The number is unknown; she sees her hand tremble around the phone. She lets the call go to voicemail before the phone vibrates to life once again. Bracing herself, Nancy answers. “Hello?” “Yes, hello – I’m trying to reach a one Nancy Drew?” The voice is British and eerily familiar, like Nancy heard it in a dream. “This is she.” “Splendid! Oh, you wouldn’t believe the trouble I’ve gone to in order to find your number.” “Sorry? Who is this?” “Why, Nigel Mookergee. We met at –” “Blackmoor,” Nancy whispers. “Nigel, hi. What’s going on?” “I’m afraid the manner of my call is not a jovial one,” he says. “How should I explain this? Well, I suppose from the start. You see –” He sighs. “Don’t tell anyone I’m speaking of this, but the Penvellyns have fallen into a bit of… financial trouble.” Nancy says, “’Financial trouble’?” “It’s certainly not my business to spread, but yes. It’s not that they are a poor family by any means, but one diplomat’s salary is not enough to keep up a castle.” Nancy sits up, grabbing a pen and notepad from her bedside table. She jots as Nigel continues. “The Penvellyns began to host historical tours at the manor – much to Mrs. Drake’s dismay, I might add. Jane wishes to expand the business to the paranormal side of things, and I don’t quite agree with the idea myself, but she insists it’s just what the manor needs.” Nancy finishes scrawling and says, “So, you’re working for the Penvellyns now?” “Yes. I’m afraid there’s been some situations – inconsequential events, if you will – that need a glance over.” Nancy arches a brow. “You mean an investigation.” “Ah, such a serious word. I simply want to make sure we are fully prepared to expand the business.” Nancy’s eyes narrow. “Right. When would you need me there?” “As soon as possible -” Nigel catches himself. “I mean, at your earliest convenience.” Nancy glances over her notes, running her hand over the page filled by red ink. She closes her eyes against the sight and says, “I’ll be there tomorrow.”

thank you so much for reading! please let me know what you think and stay safe. and please consider following me here and on twitter! xoxo

#nancy drew #nd #nancy drew pc #nd pc #CUR #clue crew #blackmoor manor #curse of blackmoor manor #francy #frank hardy #nancy drew fanfiction

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nachosncheeze · 2 years

Text

Music of Blindspot

The music of Blindspot 2x10 - Nor I, Nigel, AKA Leg In Iron

Another one that's several weeks delayed, but I'm still catching up on the rewatch, and honestly this episode is SO INTENSE that it's hard to focus on any one thing at any moment!

This week's post is fairly short and mostly nonsense. This ep has a lot of borrowing and recycling of sounds from different season 1 tracks and although they're largely in bigger, more identifiable chunks than previous season 2 episodes, there's very little that strikes me as particularly compelling in terms of themes. I feel like I should state again that I'm by no means a music critic, composer, or anything remotely in that realm, but my impression as a Dork Who Likes Soundtracks is that they were probably going more for feelings and ambiance rather than actual callbacks and references. Either that or the holidays and omicron have rotted my brain (eminently possible tbh), because if they're there, I'm not hearing them this week. Links will be sparing but there'll be at least a couple.

As always, all music is composed by Blake Neely and Sherri Chung; I’m getting nothing out of this except an excuse to re-watch with my own little auditory memory mini-game. Please don’t do anything shady with the YouTube links; I don’t want to get the OPs in trouble or we could lose access to this awesome content. Also note that linked music recycled from season 1 was released on an official soundtrack, which is still purchasable on iTunes etc. And it's good to support the things we love! :D

Post is behind a cut, because it’s long and at this point, almost entirely spoilers. :D

~~~~~

When Thornton is confessing to Patterson (tied to a table) about why he joined Sandstorm - for his late wife - the music is not the same but reminds me a lot of Ultimate Polygraph in 2x01 - different melody but similar sound/instruments/structure from the moment when Nas asked about Oscar, and Jane's (tied to a chair) confession really got underway. This comment means absolutely nothing, I just thought it's neat. There are a lot of instances of "similar but different" between Jane and Borden apart from their shared history; for example Patterson's attempt to arrest him at the end of the previous episode ("FBI, you're under arrest... whoever you are") struck me as a really similar vibe to "So if Taylor Shaw is dead, who the hell are you?" at the end of 1x23.

The fight in the diner is a veritable root veg mash of season 1 fight scene sounds. I'm not gonna try to tease that apart, but if you think it's funky try tracks from season 1 like "Field Trip" or "Exploding Art" or "No Love in an Elevator".

We're still getting a lot of Torn Apart sans "The Truth Can Save You" (season 1) elements. On first watch, it was around this point where I really started to think of Torn Apart as the "Roman and Remi" theme specifically as opposed to "Jane is conflicted" or "Jane's past/family" more generally, because it increasingly centers around Roman and ditches the "Jellery" bit.

So here's something not really related to this episode but I don't know why I haven't said before now (and it's gonna get weirder the longer I put it off... really I should do a season 1 OST post at some point): when I say "Jellery" bit, I'm of course referring to elements (esp. perc) borrowed from The Truth Can Save You, which we call the Jeller Theme because it tends to come up whenever Jeller are having Very Emotional Shippy Moments. But Torn Apart isn't the first track to borrow it: you can hear a variation on the same underpinning "Learn to Trust" (also from the season 1 OST)... which is the piece from the end of 1x11 when Jane goes to meet Oscar for the first time... and that borrowed "Jellery" bit I keep referring to kicks in right when she's at the crossroads deciding whether to go to the park or to the tower.

When Shepherd first starts interrogating Patterson - There's nothing I'm picking up on here specifically that's of note, but I'm listing it anyway because it (especially the piano near the end, as she's first introducing the needle) very vaguely made me think of Departed Host and I got nostalgic and wanted to highlight that amazing track because imo it's one of the best standalones from S1 and everyone should listen to it absent the dialogue at least once. That is a run-on sentence and a half and my English teachers would be scandalized, so I may as well compound their suffering by continuing this sentence ad infinitum as well, and tell you that's the piece from the end of 1x20 that covers the montage of Mayfair's hotel suite date with Alexandra, Jeller and Sawyer playing Uno, Jane spying on Oscar, and Mayfair discovering Alexandra's body.

#blindspot #blindspot 2x10 #blindspot rewatch 2021 #blindspot rewatch #blindspot ost #music of blindspot #blindspot s2 spoilers #i was hungry when i proofread this okay?#i have half-assed #nachos blindspot oc

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