#int. and ext. of the self

[deductions-and-magic]

On the perimeter of the Int.

so I just watched Interior Chinatown and discovered Archie Kao (and proceeded to start watching his entire filmography as you do) (also i think i really need to read the book Edit: finished the book!! might write a new post)

And I think it is so poignant that he is Uncle Wong

The ABC (American Born Chinese) who has a foot in both worlds (the first to realize the dangers involved and believes it’s his responsibility to protect his people!), who says

"I was born here. In this city. I've been here my whole life."

and yet is so grounded in both cultures

who finds the victims of the systematic violence resulting from the police procedural

is performed by the ABC who was raised on an American farm, who did not know Mandarin when he moved to China a few years back to find his roots and pursued acting there, who is now back in the US (source: his Int. Chinatown interviews), who has always tried to help. to change things (even if small)

In his interviews he talked about how he spent most of his time in Hollywood on procedural dramas

And parallels with Willis Wu who as a "Generic Asian Man" could not be the hero, the lead (on CSI: Enhance! On Chicago PD: Detective but tech guy — so many parallels)

So he, like many Asian Americans, IS Willis Wu (like Uncle Wong was Willis but even more similar)

but more importantly, his path of America -> Asia -> America is the path of so many people who are unsure of “self” and where they stand, thinking about where they come from and what that actually means

What being American Means, What being Asian Means, What being Asian-American Means

so I think it's likely this show represents a culmination of his journey of self discovery

As a Chinese American

And what that means to him.

Not at the intersection of two cultures but Cape Horn -- a confluence

Where oceans crash together and people get submerged

where there is a distinct divide but you can’t see it when you’re in the water

In Chinese there's a saying: "见山是山，见水是水；见山不是山，见水不是水；依然见山还是山，见水还是水", which roughly translates to “Seeing mountains as mountains, seeing water as water; seeing mountains not as mountains, seeing water not as water; still seeing mountains as mountains, water as water"

like you're back where you are before, and it's the same

but it’s different now

Which applies to so many things here.

[itwillbethescarletwitch]

Remember Me When I Forget

Bob Floyd x Fem!Reader

pt2

warnings: Terminal illness and progressive memory loss, self-neglect, euthanasia, death, emotional distress, caregiving stress.

INT. KITCHEN – MORNING LIGHT – JUNE 4, 7:12AM

You stir the coffee slowly, absentmindedly, like your body knows the rhythm even when your brain is still half-asleep. You’re barefoot, wearing one of his old Navy shirts and socks that don’t match. Sunlight spills across the counter in soft golden slants, glinting off your chipped favorite mug — the one that says “this might be wine” even though you only ever put tea in it.

You hear humming from behind you. Something low and sweet. Fleetwood Mac — he always plays that when he’s in a good mood.

The pan sizzles. Bacon. Eggs. You smile.

He’s dancing behind you — not well, but full of commitment. The ridiculous kind of sway you fell in love with. He slides past with exaggerated moves, opens the fridge like he’s opening a stage curtain, and pulls out orange juice with jazz hands.

You don’t turn around. Not yet.

“I told you not to cook,” you say, teasing.

“I’m not cooking,” he replies, deadpan. “I’m orchestrating.”

You grin. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Correct.”

You sip your coffee, and for a moment, it’s so perfect you can barely breathe. There’s a contentedness to the silence that follows — the kind that only comes from ten years of loving someone so deeply, so mundanely, that the ordinary feels holy.

And then—

“Don’t turn around yet,” he says, voice softer now. He turns off the burner. “Stay right there.”

You freeze, knowing what’s coming. He does it every year.

Footsteps. Then warm arms wrapping around your waist, his chin dropping to your shoulder.

“Happy birthday, baby,” he whispers.

He sets something on your head. The familiar scratch of glittery cardboard, a little crooked.

The paper crown.

You laugh, instantly. “No way. You kept that thing again?”

“I ironed it this year,” he says with mock pride. “It’s vintage.”

You spin in his arms. He’s grinning like an idiot, eyes creased at the corners, hair still rumpled from sleep. That same stupid dimple in his cheek you used to poke during class when you were both nineteen and annoying.

“You’re such a sap,” you murmur.

“I’m your sap.”

You kiss him, deep and slow, and the pan sizzles in the background like applause.

⸻

INT. DINING ROOM – LATER

There’s cake — not store-bought. A little lopsided, but made with care. Chocolate with raspberry frosting, your favorite since high school. He lights thirty candles, one by one.

You pretend to groan. “That’s a fire hazard.”

“I’m willing to risk it.”

You blow them out with both hands clasped like you’re making a wish big enough to reach the sky.

He gives you your gift in a tiny velvet box, and your heart stutters. “If that’s jewelry…”

“It’s not.” He opens it.

It’s a first-edition copy of Matilda. The real one. The cover worn, spine faded, but intact. Your favorite book. The one your mom used to read to you when you couldn’t sleep.

Your hands shake. “How did you find this?”

“I’ve been looking for years,” he says simply.

You don’t cry. Not yet. But you hold it like it’s sacred.

He leans in, forehead pressed to yours. “This is just the beginning, okay?”

You nod.

You believe him.

⸻

INT. BEDROOM – NIGHT

The sheets are tangled around your legs. His hand is splayed across your stomach, rising and falling with every breath. The windows are cracked, letting in the hum of crickets and the occasional dog bark down the street.

You whisper into the dark: “Do you think this is our peak?”

He shifts. “No.”

“Really?”

“I think we’ll look back on this when we’re eighty and think, ‘God, we were just babies.’”

You’re quiet for a second.

“I hope so,” you say.

⸻

EXT. BACKYARD – LATER THAT NIGHT

There’s a string of fairy lights overhead. The two of you are wrapped in a blanket on a lawn chair built for one, staring up at the stars.

You can’t sleep.

He kisses your temple.

“Happy birthday again,” he murmurs. “You made thirty look like magic.”

You sigh. “It was perfect.”

And it was.

You’ll come back to this night in dreams. You’ll cling to it in the coming years like a lighthouse when the storm hits. Like a photograph that keeps getting blurrier, but you can’t stop staring at it anyway.

———

INT. OFFICE – LATE MORNING – SEPTEMBER 15

It’s quiet in the building — the kind of lull that comes after the first fall rush, when summer interns have gone back to college and the air smells faintly like cinnamon-scented hand sanitizer. You’re at your desk, hair piled in a loose bun, blue light glasses sliding down your nose as you squint at your screen.

You’ve been editing a slideshow presentation for nearly two hours. Your coworker, Dana, is laughing across the room about something on her phone.

“I swear to God,” she says, “if I see one more slideshow transition with glitter, I’m quitting this job.”

You chuckle. “Hey, I like the glitter.”

“You would, princess.”

You roll your eyes and click open the next slide. You’re halfway through labeling plant photos for a biodiversity project when you pause.

You frown.

There’s a picture in front of you. A plant you’ve seen a thousand times. You know it. You’ve used it in classes. Taught others about it. Its bright-green leaves with serrated edges. That odd little yellow bud that smells like lemon balm.

Your brain pulls a blank.

You blink. Hard.

The cursor hovers over the space where the name should go.

Come on, come on.

You glance at the file name. It’s just a code.

Your heart thuds a little faster.

Dana notices the shift in your face. “You okay?”

You hesitate. “Yeah, I just—what’s this one called again?” You turn your screen toward her.

She squints. “Golden balm. You always forget that one.”

You laugh. You make it sound natural. “Yeah. Guess I’m getting old.”

She snorts. “Welcome to thirty.”

⸻

INT. HOME – THAT NIGHT – 8:22PM

He’s cooking again. Chicken and roasted sweet potatoes, the kind he knows you love. Music hums from the Bluetooth speaker — Gregory Alan Isakov, your comfort playlist.

You sit on the barstool, sipping wine, flipping through an old paperback without really reading.

“Hey,” you say, as he flips the chicken. “Can I ask you something weird?”

He hums.

You hesitate. Then: “Do you ever forget really obvious stuff? Like, stuff you’ve known forever?”

He turns. His brow lifts, just a little.

“Like what?”

“I dunno. I was at work today, and I was labeling a slide and I couldn’t remember the name of golden balm. I’ve used that plant in like, four projects. I just… blanked. For a minute.”

He sets the spatula down.

“Was it just that?” he asks gently.

You shrug. “Probably. Just felt strange.”

He comes over, presses a kiss to your forehead. “Everyone has off days.”

You nod. You want to believe him.

But later that night, after you’ve fallen asleep on the couch during your rewatch of The Office, he googles “early memory loss symptoms” with a hand resting on your ankle like he’s afraid if he lets go, you’ll vanish.

⸻

INT. PRIMARY CARE CLINIC – ANNUAL CHECKUP – NOVEMBER 3

The room is too white. The paper on the exam table crinkles under you like it’s protesting.

Dr. Calloway is cheerful. Friendly. You like her. She’s been your doctor for years.

“Everything looks good,” she says, tapping her iPad. “Blood pressure’s perfect, vitamin levels are strong…”

You clear your throat.

“Actually, I was wondering—there’s been something a little weird going on.”

She looks up.

“I’ve been forgetting stuff. Nothing major. Just small things. Plant names, why I went into a room, where I put things. I thought it was just stress at first, but it keeps happening.”

Her smile fades into something more neutral. Careful.

“Okay,” she says slowly. “How long has this been happening?”

“Couple months. Since September, maybe.”

“Anything else? Trouble concentrating, changes in sleep, mood swings?”

You pause. “I’ve been a little more tired than usual. But that could just be turning thirty.”

She doesn’t laugh. She taps a note into her tablet.

“Let’s run a few tests.”

⸻

INT. CAR – LATER THAT DAY

You sit in silence while he drives.

He doesn’t say I’m sure it’s nothing.

He doesn’t say Don’t worry.

He reaches over and takes your hand.

You grip his like it’s the only thing you’re still sure of.

⸻

INT. HOUSE – THAT NIGHT

You forget where the forks go.

You’re unloading the dishwasher, humming to yourself, and you pause with a handful of silver in your palm.

You open the cabinet over the sink.

Then the one to the left.

Then the drawer with the wine corks.

He watches you from the hallway, silent.

Then he comes over, gently takes the forks, and slides them into the correct drawer.

You smile, embarrassed.

“Just tired,” you mutter.

He kisses your forehead.

He doesn’t say anything.

———

INT. HOSPITAL – RADIOLOGY WING – DECEMBER 12, 10:47AM

The elevator dings.

You step into the radiology wing and everything smells like bleach and winter air — too cold, too sterile. There’s a wreath taped to the check-in window, lopsided and shedding glitter. The receptionist wears reindeer antlers.

She smiles like this is just another Wednesday.

But your fingers are shaking.

⸻

INT. WAITING ROOM – MOMENTS LATER

He’s next to you. Reading an old copy of Time. Not actually reading it — just flipping pages, trying not to fidget.

You watch the second hand on the wall clock tick its way toward forever.

They call your name.

He stands with you. You squeeze his hand once, hard.

You don’t say I’m scared out loud. You don’t have to.

⸻

INT. CHANGING ROOM – RADIOLOGY – 11:08AM

The gown is paper-thin. Your feet are cold on the tile.

You fold your clothes neatly even though your hands won’t stop trembling. You think, absurdly, about how your mom always told you to wear nice underwear in case you ended up in a hospital. You want to laugh. You want to cry.

You do neither.

⸻

INT. SCAN ROOM – 11:16AM

The MRI tech is a woman named Elaine. She’s kind. She tells you what every button does. Explains how long the scan will take. Makes small talk about the holidays while fitting you with earplugs and positioning your head.

She asks you to stay still.

You lie down on the narrow table.

The machine begins to move.

The ceiling is blank. The light too bright. The air too still.

You close your eyes.

And it hits you — for the first time, truly — that something might be wrong.

Not tiredness. Not stress. Not a bad week or a birthday funk.

You swallow hard. You think of golden balm. The forks.

You think of him — how he looked this morning while brushing his teeth, sleep-mussed and humming under his breath, like the world wasn’t about to change.

The machine hums to life.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Each pulse of the MRI sounds like a hammer inside your skull.

You want to scream. You want to get up and leave. But you stay still.

You stay still.

⸻

INT. WAITING ROOM – 12:42PM

You sit beside him again. He has his hand on your knee. You’re not sure when he put it there.

They told you the results won’t be back today. Maybe not for a few days.

He offers to take you to lunch. You say no.

You’re not hungry. You feel like you’re being hollowed out from the inside.

⸻

INT. HOME – THAT EVENING

The house is too quiet.

You both try to pretend it’s normal. He watches TV, but he’s not laughing. You cook dinner, but you burn the pasta. You leave the stove on again. He turns it off without a word.

At 9:53PM, while you’re brushing your teeth, you open the wrong drawer and just stare at the cotton balls and first-aid cream like they’re foreign objects.

You sit on the bathroom floor.

You stay there until he finds you.

He doesn’t ask what’s wrong. He just sits beside you and pulls your head to his chest.

You both sit there until the tile feels like part of your skin.

———

INT. KITCHEN – TUESDAY – 8:46AM

You are buttering toast.

That’s all. Just buttering toast.

The sunlight is perfect. The countertop gleams. A playlist hums softly in the background — Norah Jones, something wistful and smooth. You’re wearing his hoodie, oversized and warm, sleeves pushed up to your elbows.

Your phone buzzes once on the counter. Then again. Then again.

Unknown number.

You stare at it.

You nearly don’t answer.

But your gut twists. Something old and primal, warning you in a voice that doesn’t use words.

You answer.

⸻

INT. KITCHEN – CONTINUOUS

“Hello?”

There’s a pause. Then:

“Hi, may I speak with Y/N L/N?”

“This is her.”

The voice is soft. Gentle. That carefully trained tone — the kind they use in hospitals, in nurseries, in breakups.

“This is Dr. Calloway’s office. We received your imaging results from last week. The doctor would like to go over them with you… in person.”

Silence.

It lands like thunder.

“In person?” you echo.

“Yes,” the nurse says. “Is there a time today that works for you?”

Your throat closes.

You look down at your hand. You’ve crushed the toast in your grip. Butter smeared across your palm like paint.

“I can come in now,” you whisper.

The nurse hesitates. Then: “Okay. We’ll see you soon.”

She hangs up first.

You stand in the kitchen, frozen, the dial tone humming softly from your hand like it’s trying to fill the silence.

⸻

INT. BEDROOM – MOMENTS LATER

He’s just pulling a shirt over his head when you walk in. Your face must give it away instantly, because his smile falters.

“Hey. What is it?”

You don’t speak. You sit on the edge of the bed, phone clutched in your hand like it’s something that could hurt you if you let go.

He crosses the room in two steps, kneels in front of you. “Y/N.”

“They called,” you whisper. “The scans. They want to talk to me. In person.”

His mouth parts, but no sound comes.

You look up at him.

There is terror in your eyes. Real, true terror. The kind that comes from your bones.

He reaches for your hands. They’re cold.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Okay. I’m coming with you.”

You nod.

You are both already mourning something you don’t even have a name for yet.

⸻

INT. DOCTOR’S OFFICE – 9:32AM

The room is quiet.

Not sterile like the hospital — this one’s been softened. Calming artwork on the walls. A fern in the corner. A warm diffuser that smells like lavender. They want you to feel safe before they break you open.

Dr. Calloway walks in. She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

You know.

You already know.

She sits. Opens her folder.

And with a voice so gentle it almost makes it worse, she begins.

⸻

DR. CALLOWAY

“There are changes in your scans. In the hippocampus region — the area responsible for memory consolidation and spatial navigation.”

She shows you the images. Side-by-side MRIs. A before and an after.

You can’t tell what you’re looking at.

He can. His jaw clenches.

⸻

DR. CALLOWAY (CONT’D)

“We’ve consulted with neurology. Based on the pattern and progression, it matches a profile of a rare condition — it’s called Progressive Memory Degenerative Syndrome. There’s also evidence of early episodic amnesia, which explains the blackouts and disorientation.”

You swallow.

“Is it curable?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

She shakes her head slowly.

“I’m so sorry.”

⸻

INT. CAR – LATER THAT DAY

Neither of you speaks on the drive home.

Your hand is in his lap. His is covering it. Both still. Like a photograph.

The only sound is the soft click of the turn signal.

⸻

INT. BEDROOM – NIGHT

He gets into bed beside you.

You are silent, staring at the ceiling, eyes dry and wide open.

He whispers, “You’re still you.”

You turn to face him. “Not for long.”

He pulls you against him. Tighter than ever before. As if he could memorize the shape of you by holding on hard enough.

⸻

INT. BATHROOM – LATER

You brush your teeth.

You spit.

You open the drawer to grab floss.

You pause.

You stare at it.

There’s floss. There’s toothpaste. Tweezers. A thermometer.

You forget what you came here for.

———

INT. LIVING ROOM – EVENING – DECEMBER 14

The laptop sits on the coffee table like a bomb waiting to go off.

You’re curled on the couch under your favorite blanket — the one with the frayed corner you always rub between your fingers. There’s a half-drunk cup of tea going cold beside you, untouched for hours.

The room is silent, but the screen isn’t.

Medical articles. Research journals. Neurology forum threads filled with strangers grasping at hope.

You scroll.

And scroll.

And scroll.

Your eyes blur, but you won’t stop.

Behind you, he’s in the kitchen. You can hear the clink of a spoon against a mug. He’s making hot chocolate again — your comfort drink. He knows you haven’t eaten since breakfast. He’s trying.

You’re barely breathing when you whisper: “They said it’s progressive.”

He sets the mug down, walks around the couch, and sinks beside you.

“I know.”

“It’s going to get worse.”

“I know.”

You finally look at him. Your voice is a thread. “What if I forget your face?”

He doesn’t speak.

He pulls you to him instead. Presses your hand to his chest.

“Then I’ll find a way to remind you. Every time.”

⸻

INT. STUDY – LATER THAT NIGHT

You take out a new journal.

You run your fingers over the first blank page. Then you pick up the pen.

You start slow.

NAME: Y/N L/N

AGE: 31

BIRTHDAY: June 4

PARTNER: [His name.]

ADDRESS: [Your full home address.]

OCCUPATION: Photojournalist.

FAVORITE COLOR: Marigold yellow.

FAVORITE BOOK: Matilda by Roald Dahl.

FAVORITE SONG: “Songbird” by Fleetwood Mac.

LOVES: Long showers. Rainy windows. The smell of his T-shirt.

FEARS: Forgetting any of this.

You underline the last line three times.

⸻

INT. HALLWAY – NEXT DAY

Post-it notes begin to appear.

FRIDGE

SHOES

PHONE CHARGER – LEFT DRAWER

THIS IS THE BATHROOM.

YOU’RE HOME.

He prints out a label maker from his office. Offers to help.

You let him.

At first, it feels absurd. Like playing a game.

But by that evening, it’s not.

Because when you open the pantry looking for your laptop — and he finds you standing there frozen — you say nothing.

And he just hugs you. Wordlessly.

⸻

INT. BOOKSTORE – DECEMBER 16

You buy every book you can find on memory, neurology, rare brain diseases. The cashier eyes the stack. You say nothing.

That night, you highlight words like “deterioration”, “localized degeneration”, “temporal lobe atrophy.”

He watches you from the doorway, arms folded, eyes shining.

“You know what I realized?” you say softly, not looking up.

“What?”

“If it were you… if it were your brain eating itself… I wouldn’t stop either.”

He walks over. Kneels beside your chair.

“It is my brain. You’re half of it.”

You close the book and finally cry into his chest.

⸻

INT. BEDROOM – 2:08AM

He wakes to find you pacing.

You’re muttering something under your breath. Repeating it.

He listens.

It’s the address.

Your address.

You keep saying it like a prayer. Like maybe if you say it enough, it’ll burn itself into your bones.

He gets up, guides you back into bed.

Whispers it with you.

Together

Until you fall asleep against his chest.

⸻

INT. KITCHEN – DAY

He finds a sticky note on the fridge.

You wrote it in your own handwriting.

“You are still you.

Even when you forget.”

———

INT. KITCHEN – MORNING – JANUARY 8, 7:13AM

The kitchen is bright.

A new year. New month. Same mug. Same soft robe. Same playlist humming in the background.

Except—

You’re staring at the coffee maker.

Frozen.

Your hand is hovering over the grounds. The measuring scoop is in your palm.

And you have no idea what comes next.

Not like in a where’s-the-filter-again way.

No. You don’t remember how coffee works.

You blink.

Your heart skips.

You look around like someone might prompt you.

Nobody does.

He’s still upstairs. Still asleep.

You drop the scoop into the sink. Slowly. Carefully. Like it might explode.

⸻

INT. BATHROOM – 7:19AM

You lock the door.

You sit on the closed toilet lid, shaking.

You whisper aloud:

“Step one… fill the water. Step two… scoop grounds. Step three…”

Your voice cracks.

“Step three…”

You cover your mouth with both hands.

⸻

INT. LIVING ROOM – LATER

You bring it up like a confession.

You whisper it into his collarbone like you’re ashamed of it.

“I forgot how to make coffee.”

He doesn’t flinch.

He doesn’t say, That’s okay, or It happens to everyone.

He just says, “We’ll label it.”

He buys a mini dry-erase board and sticks it above the coffee maker.

He writes the steps in clear black marker.

Step 1.

Step 2.

Step 3.

You stand and stare at it.

He puts the marker in your hand.

You write Step 4: Cry if necessary.

He laughs. You do too.

But only for a second.

⸻

INT. BEDROOM – LATER THAT WEEK – 3:47PM

You try to unlock your phone.

It’s the same password you’ve had for five years. The one that’s his birthday, flipped. You chose it because it made you feel safe.

You type it in.

Wrong.

You try again.

Wrong.

Again.

Wrong.

Your hands start shaking.

You try to breathe, try to remember.

You can’t.

You put the phone down. You curl onto the bed and don’t move.

⸻

INT. ENTRYWAY – EVENING

He finds your phone later.

On the floor.

He enters the password on the first try.

Sets it down. Quietly.

Then walks into the bedroom, finds you curled like a comma.

He climbs in beside you.

You say, “It’s getting faster.”

He nods.

“I don’t want it to.”

He kisses your temple.

“You’re still here,” he whispers. “Even if the pieces scatter.”

⸻

INT. BEDROOM – LATE NIGHT – JANUARY 12

He’s sleeping.

You are not.

You get up. Quiet.

Walk the halls.

Your hand glides across the walls like you’re blindfolded.

You pause at a door.

The bathroom?

No.

Bedroom?

No.

You open it.

It’s the hall closet.

Coats.

You stand there. Shaking.

You whisper: “This isn’t the bathroom.”

You turn.

And you don’t know which way to go.

He finds you minutes later.

Shivering. Silent. Lost in your own home.

He doesn’t panic.

He doesn’t speak.

He just takes your hand, and guides you back to bed.

———

INT. KITCHEN – SUNDAY MORNING – JANUARY 19

You finish your eggs. Sip your coffee. Your movements are slower now — careful, deliberate. But still yours.

You glance at the fridge. There’s a list he wrote for you, in clean block letters.

Groceries:

• Almond milk

• Honey

• Pasta

• Lemons

• Earl Grey

• Your favorite cookies (orange bag)

You pick it up. Fold it. Slip it into your pocket.

“I’ll go,” you say lightly.

He freezes mid-sip. “Go where?”

You raise your brows. “The store.”

He hesitates. “I can do it—”

“I want to.”

The way you say it, it’s not a request.

You’re already grabbing your keys.

He doesn’t argue. Not out loud.

But when he follows you out to the driveway, when he lingers beside the door as you buckle in—

you know.

He’s afraid.

⸻

EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD STREETS – 11:27AM

You drive with both hands on the wheel. Music off. Window cracked.

You whisper the directions like a mantra.

“Left at the light. Right at the Shell. Down past the school.”

It feels fine. Normal. Like muscle memory.

Until—

You miss the turn.

Just a little.

No big deal.

You laugh. “Okay. No problem.”

You circle around.

You miss it again.

And suddenly—

You don’t know where you are.

Not even a little.

⸻

INT. CAR – MOMENTS LATER

Your hands grip the steering wheel tight enough to hurt.

The streets blur. The houses all look the same.

You turn. Another turn. You try to find a landmark. A sign.

Nothing.

You pull into a grocery store.

Not yours.

You don’t know where yours is anymore.

You park. Hard. Throw the car in park. Your breath is shaking.

Your phone is in your lap.

But for a full minute—

You don’t remember how to unlock it.

You cry.

Not because you’re lost.

Because you feel like you don’t exist.

⸻

INT. LIVING ROOM – 12:12PM

He’s pacing.

The phone rings. He picks up instantly.

“Y/N? Where are you? Are you okay—”

“I don’t know,” you whisper.

You’re sitting on the curb outside the store, hood up, shoulders shaking.

You sound like a child.

His voice cracks.

“I’m coming. Stay right there.”

⸻

INT. CAR – TWENTY MINUTES LATER

You see his car pull into the lot.

You don’t move.

He doesn’t say a word when he gets out. Just walks over, kneels, pulls you into his chest.

You sob into his hoodie like you’re six years old.

“I couldn’t find the way back,” you choke. “I couldn’t even find me.”

⸻

INT. BEDROOM – LATER

The drive home is silent.

You get into bed. Fully clothed. You turn your back to him.

He stands in the doorway like he’s debating something.

Finally, he speaks.

“I’m taking the keys.”

Silence.

You sit up. Slowly. “What?”

“You can’t drive anymore.”

“You’re treating me like a child.”

He doesn’t flinch.

“I’m treating you like someone I can’t lose.”

“Then stop watching me like I’m already gone,” you snap.

Silence.

Then:

“I’m not watching you because you’re gone,” he says quietly. “I’m watching you because I want to remember everything about you while you’re still here.”

⸻

INT. BEDROOM – MIDNIGHT

You’re asleep.

He’s beside you, phone face down on the nightstand.

He stares at the ceiling.

Then rolls away from you, curling into himself.

And quietly — so quietly — he cries.

Because you’re forgetting everything.

And he’s the only one left you still know.

———

INT. LIVING ROOM – MORNING – FEBRUARY 10, 8:02AM

You wake on the couch.

Sunlight spills across the hardwood like a spotlight. A book is open beside you — one you’ve read four times this week. Every time feels like the first.

You look around the room, confused.

Not panicked. Just… off.

You stand. The floor creaks.

You move through the house like it’s a stranger’s.

⸻

INT. HALLWAY – CONTINUOUS

You stop in front of a door.

You hesitate.

“Bathroom?” you murmur aloud.

No one answers.

You try the handle.

It’s the linen closet.

You blink at the shelves.

Towels. Sheets. A candle. A stack of folded pillowcases.

You don’t remember buying any of them.

⸻

INT. KITCHEN – LATER

He finds you sitting at the kitchen table with a notepad in your lap.

You’re writing something down, over and over.

His name.

Bob. Bob. Bob.

He doesn’t say anything.

He just pours two cups of tea.

Sets one in front of you.

You stare at it.

“Did I already eat?” you ask.

He hesitates. “No, not yet.”

You nod. Then whisper: “I didn’t remember your name when I woke up.”

You don’t look at him.

“I remembered a face. Warm. Gentle. I just… didn’t know what to call it.”

He swallows. Hard.

“Well,” he says softly. “It’s Bob.”

You nod again, smaller this time.

“I’ll try to remember.”

He kisses your knuckles. “I’ll keep reminding you.”

⸻

INT. BEDROOM – NIGHT – FEBRUARY 12

You sit cross-legged on the floor in a pile of old photo albums.

Your fingers skim over faces you can’t place.

“Were these my parents?”

“Yes.”

“This one?”

“Your brother.”

“And this?”

He pauses.

“…That’s you. In college.”

You blink.

You nod.

He watches your lips move silently as you try to hold onto names.

⸻

INT. JOURNAL – SAME NIGHT

THINGS I KNOW:

1. My name is Y/N.

2. I live in this house.

3. The man is Bob.

4. He loves me.

5. I love him.

6. I had a dog once.

7. I think I liked rain.

8. I used to be someone else.

⸻

INT. BEDROOM – LATER THAT NIGHT

You’re asleep.

He’s not.

He lies on his back, arm under your head, your breath soft against his neck.

He stays still.

Like if he moves, you’ll disappear entirely.

Then, quietly—

He shifts, pulls away gently, gets out of bed.

⸻

INT. BATHROOM – 2:03AM

The door closes with a click.

He turns on the sink to drown the sound.

And sobs into his hands.

Not loud.

Not desperate.

Just devastated.

Because you looked at him tonight like he was a stranger in his own home.

And he smiled anyway.

Because someone has to remember.

———

INT. HALLWAY – EARLY MORNING – FEBRUARY 21

The wall is covered.

Photos in cheap plastic frames. Post-its in neat rows.

Everything labeled in block letters — things she used to love. Things she’s afraid to lose.

There’s a photo of them at the lake. A recipe card in her handwriting.

A note:

“This man is Bob. You love him.”

“Your name is Y/N.”

“You are 34.”

“This is home.”

Bob stands in front of it all now, pressing a new Polaroid into place.

He smooths the tape. Adjusts the angle. Steps back.

He doesn’t cry.

But his hands shake.

⸻

INT. KITCHEN – LATER

She walks in.

She pauses.

“Morning,” he says softly.

She blinks at him. Offers a half-smile.

“You’re the guy from the wall.”

His heart drops.

“Yes,” he nods. “I’m the guy from the wall.”

She frowns. “What’s your name again?”

“…Bob.”

She repeats it quietly.

“Bob.”

Like tasting a word for the first time.

⸻

INT. HALLWAY – 3:13PM

He hears it from the kitchen.

The ripping.

The tearing.

The crash of picture frames hitting the ground.

He runs.

She’s standing in the hallway, tearing everything down.

Sticky notes flutter around her like feathers in a storm.

Photos lie crumpled under her bare feet.

“STOP PUTTING ME IN BOXES!” she screams. “STOP WRITING ME DOWN!”

He tries to reach her.

She backs away.

“I AM NOT THIS! I AM NOT THESE SENTENCES ON A WALL!”

He whispers, “You asked me to help you remember—”

“I DON’T WANT TO REMEMBER LIKE THAT!”

And then—

She crumbles.

Sinks to the floor.

And sobs into her hands.

⸻

INT. BEDROOM – NIGHT

She’s asleep again.

Exhausted.

He sits beside her with a box.

Gently folds every sticky note.

Stacks every photo.

Tapes them into her journal like pages of an old scrapbook.

And on the final page, he writes:

You are still here.

Even when you don’t believe it.

I will remember for both of us.

Then closes the book.

And cries into his hands.

Again.

[pandoraspsychosis]

Columbine: The Musical

Columbine: The Musical

ACT ONE: The Plan Scene One - Int. Harris' basement Start off with opening song. "Usual Day at Columbine High"

Klebold: To dream the impossible dream. To scheme the impossible scheme. Harris: To plan the impossible plan. To drown out the blood-curdling screammmmm

Harris: We're building a bomb! With concentrate Ammonium We're building a bomb! Warning labels, we're condoning 'em Potassium chlorate! Ammonium nitrate! It's a usual day at Columbine High.

Klebold: We're building a bomb! Make it plastic or a chemical? We're building a bomb! Our reasoning: polemical. A pipe bomb will do fine! We'll break in there at nine! It's a usual day at Columbine High.

Song ends. Harris picks up one of the pipe bombs.

Harris: Okay, the bombs are ready.

Klebold: Brilliant, dude.

Harris: Man, when this goes off. "BOOM!" Twenty people dead!

Klebold: Calm down, Eric. We still got another 90 minutes.

Harris: Man, this is gonna be great!

Klebold: Yeah, it's gonna be like fucking Doom.

Harris: We're gonna go in there and kick ass.

Klebold: We're gonna shoot up everyone. Kill 'em all, dude. Kill 'em all!!!

Harris: Man, we'll be famous. We'll be gods!

Klebold: Great, dude. Hey, you all set?

Harris: All set. I'm going over to the school and set the bombs. You coming?

Klebold: Nah, take care of that for me, dude. I'll just sit here and make myself comfortable. Hey, can I get a beer?

Harris: Knock yourself out. Lazy ass.

Klebold: Shut up. And hurry back, it's 7:30. We're running late.

Klebold opens refrigerator grabs a Jack Daniel's. He sits down and starts drinking. Meanwhile, Harris exits door with duffel bag filled with pipe bombs. End scene one.

Scene Two - Ext. Columbine High School Main Entrance Harris is placing pipe bombs on the lawn. Enter Cindy Fitzgerald, who looks on unnoticed by Harris.

Harris: [whistling to self]

Cindy: Eric! What do you think you're doing?

Harris: Huh?

Cindy: I know what you're up to. I heard you and Dylan in the halls yesterday. Are you insane?

Harris: .

Cindy: angry tone Just what do you think you'll achieve from this? Hmm?

Harris: Damn it, Cindy. Stay out of this!!

Cindy: Eric, stop and think just for a second.

Harris: Go away. I gotta finish.

Cindy: Just hear me out for a second.

Start song "My Destiny"

Cindy: Eric Harris, stop and think. You plan for revenge really stinks. Killing people won't help you win. You'll just destroy lives with this sin.

Harris: Damn it, Cindy. Leave me be. This will be my destiny. I'm not listening. Go away. And let me carry on with my day.

Cindy: What's in your trench coat? Is it a gun?

Harris: I need a weapon to have fun.

Cindy: What's in that bag? Bombs. Dynamite.

Harris: So that they won't put up a fight.

Cindy: Eric, taking lives is wrong.

Harris: You can't stop me. Move along.

Cindy: Please, Eric, stop this now. For me? There is good in all for us to see. Can't you see the good in others. They are your sisters and your brothers. They don't hate you. They're people, too.

Harris: Damn it, Cindy. Get a clue. By seventh period hundreds will die. We'll make them bleed and make them cry. They caused me pain and now they'll pay. Today will be their judgement day. And nothing you say will make me quit. Tell someone who gives a shit. So stop your jabbering. Get away from me. This will be my destiny!

Song ends. Klebold comes in.

Cindy: Eric, Dylan. May God have mercy on your souls. exits

Klebold: What's with the hippie chick.

Harris: Never mind her.

Klebold: Girl problems?

Harris: Slaps Klebold. Shut up! Okay, the bombs are all ready. They're all set to go off like mines, so watch your step!

Klebold: I got a the little "toys" you wanted earlier. Hands Harris shotgun shells. Here's the special ammo. With lead buckshot, too. Great for hunting large game like deer, moose, bear.

Harris: People.

Klebold: You know it.

Harris: Where did you get these?

Klebold: From my little ammo shack at home. I was saving them for a special occasion. What occasion more special than this one, eh?

Harris: Good work, Dylan.

Klebold: Alright, we're ready to go. just gotta wait until the opening bell. That's just about 50 minutes from now. We can head back home, rest, and prepare some more before then.

Harris: Okay, then. Let's go.

Both exit. End scene two.

Scene Three - Int. Harris' basement Dylan and Klebold are hovering over a floor plan of their school discussing plans.

Klebold: Okay, we'll be entering through the back entrance. That is where we planted the least amount of bombs. We'll split up. You head for the top floor north wing and start there. I'll go to the second floor south wing and start there. We'll round up the runners in the basement cafeteria.

Harris: Sounds good.

Klebold: Okay, synchronize watches. The melee begins in twenty minutes. We all set?

Harris: Check. Man, I'm psyched!

Klebold: So am I.

Harris: Dude, so we're all planned and ready to go? Klebold: Yes, my friend. We are!

Start song "Lock and Load."

Klebold: Our day has finally come, the battle will be won. And soon enough everybody will see. For in just about an hour, They will die before our power. And revenge shall belong to you and me.

Harris: Yes my friend the day is here, let's load our guns and swig a beer. The bombs are set, let's load another round. Their blood will paint the walls, as the dead lie in the halls. when the school will be blown right into the ground.

Klebold: When the sun falls from the sky, over two hundred will die. Those jerks deserve this kind of gruesome death. I sure do get my kicks, from murdering those dicks And when I'm done there won't be any left.

Harris: They laughed at us and called us names, they put this hatred in our brains. They made us into what we are today. But now its time for them to die, we'll kill each bitch and athletic guy. And now we'll have it done our own damn way.

Together: Through our act we'll achieve our fame, and everyone will know our names. We'll be famous we'll be praised and we'll be cool. Put on the trench coat, lock and load. Let's get this death show on the road. It's time to kill the bastards in our school. Put on the trench coat, lock and load. Let's get this death show on the road. It's time to kill the bastards in our school.

End song with Klebold and Harris leaving basement. End scene three. End Act One. ACT TWO: The Rampage Scene One - Columbine High School Parking Lot Klebold and Harris are unloading bags and guns from parked car.

Klebold: points to jocks Look at those bastards. Their egos are so big this pipe bomb couldn't even dent them.

Harris: Calm down, Dylan, we'll get the last laugh.

Klebold: I can't wait to see them begging for mercy...

Harris: .and then blow their heads off.

Early bell rings.

Klebold: Come on, let's go! We gotta start soon.

As they walk off, two jocks walk by and bump into them.

Jock 1: Hey, watch where you're going!

Jock 2: Losers. Hey, who do you think you guys are with your trench coats and sunglasses?

Klebold: quietly to Harris Add these two to the list.

Jock 2: Speak up, dork!

Harris: Fuck off!

Jock 1: Is that any way to show respect to your superiors?

Jock 2: How many times do we have pound in your asses before your head is finally clear. You are our inferiors. We are the kings of the school and this is our territory.

Jock 1: Now, with you as our loyal subjects, show us our respect.

Harris: You want respect? Then meet us in the library in five minutes.

Jock 2: No one fights in the library.

Klebold: Why not, you afraid?

Jock 2: All right then, the library. We'll see you in five minutes, punk.

As they walk away. Klebold and Harris smile.

Klebold: This day is getting better and better.

End scene one.

Scene Two - Columbine Library Harris and Klebold are waiting for jocks. Duffel bag with guns is placed on table.

Harris: This is our destiny, are you ready for it?

Klebold: Ready as ever.

Harris: Let's go then!

Klebold: Not before those football-playing Neanderthals get here. I want them first.

Harris: Like to hold grudges, do you Dylan?

Klebold: That's right, where are they? Looks for jocks. Oh, there they are. Over there all snuggled on the table behind their girlfriends.

Harris: Get your fucking asses out here! You wanted a fight and you're going to get one!

Jock 2: You nuts? The library's crowded.

Klebold: Not for long. He whips out shotgun from trench coat. Screaming Ok, everybody down! Now!

Jock 1: Shit!

Harris: To jocks Get out! Into the hall now!

The jocks obey and slowly run out into hall. Harris and Klebold follow. Two shots are heard followed by two thumps. Harris and Klebold walk back into library.

Klebold: shouting Who's next?

Harris: How about that bitch in the far corner? They walk over to her. Hey, how you doing?

Girl stutters and cries.

Girl: Please don't hurt me. I didn't do anything to you.

Harris: Not directly though. Follow Mr. Klebold out into the hall.

Girl: Nooo!

Klebold: We can do this in here if you'd like.

Girl walks into hall with Klebold. Shots are fired. Only Klebold walks back in.

Harris: checks watch I don't get it. the bombs should be going off by now.

Klebold: Never mind that. Let's start taking hostages. Okay. everyone in front of me where I can see.

Two girls a guy and a teacher stand in center of the room. Start song "Hostage"

Guy: Won't you let us live?

Klebold: Why would we consider it?

First Girl: Why won't you forgive? Be that you are so literate.

Harris: No negotiations! Listen to the words we speak!

Klebold: No deliberations! We've had this planned since just last week!

Harris: No hostages go free! Until all our demands are met!

Second Girl: I really have to pee.

Teacher: And I so need a cigarette!

Harris: Better that you suffer! Right before we kill you all.

Klebold: Don't make us get together! Or to you slow deaths will befall!

Harris: If you expect some kindness, you must be naïve.

Klebold: Some news for you, "Your Highness".

Together: You will never leavvvvvve!

Song ends. End of scene two.

Scene Three - Television News Station Start off with opening song. "Special Report"

Reporter: In Littleton, Colorado today Two boys in black trench coats, Filled the students with dismay And had them by the throats

They sought revenge upon the school And the students there within To those of which had been so cruel Their patience wearing thin.

The lives of kids and staff alike Are hanging by a thread The Feds are planning when to strike Four wounded, seven dead.

They've used no bombs, but fired shots Who knows when this will end? They've tied this situation up in knots Neither Feds nor cops can mend.

On Hitler's birthday this occurred To whom they all admired Their sick minds by which this was spurred And began the gunshots fired.

This will end soon, the po-lice say Their hope for peace is going strong. This will be their judgement day. Signing off, I'm Kaity Tong.

Song ends. End scene three. End Act Two.

ACT THREE: The Fallout Scene One - Columbine High School Parking Lot Policemen are ready to retake the school. Cops cars and armed officers scatter the parking lot. Enter Sergeant Rose, Officers Martin and Kaplan.

Sgt. Rose: What's the status?

Off. Martin: We're hearing gunfire throughout the school.

Off. Kaplan: Negotiations have failed.

Sgt. Rose: Dammit! We gotta get those kids outta there.

Off. Kaplan: Some students have made a break for it. We have over sixty escapees in safe custody. Some are being treated for minor wounds.

Off. Martin: The bomb squad uncovered twelve pipes. There may be more.

Sgt. Rose: .

Off. Kaplan: Sir, children are dying. Every second we wait, we sacrifice more lives.

Sgt. Rose: Enough waiting. Picks up communicator and speaks into it. Greg, send in the S.W.A.T. team.

Enter three S.W.A.T. officials.

Sgt. Rose: Go in there and get them. Fire only when necessary. Make sure you get the gunmen safe and secure.

All SWATs: Yes, sir!

SWAT 1: Let's get in there.

SWAT 2: We won't fail.

SWAT 3: Those murderers will go to jail.

Start song "Siege"

SWAT 1: The story is all tearful.

SWAT 2: All is in dismay.

SWAT 1: Situation's fearful. We have to end it all today.

SWAT 3: Get our guns off the racks.

SWAT 2: Get the soldiers out of their cars.

SWAT 1: Get in there and watch your backs.

SWAT 2: Put those killers behind bars.

SWAT 1: We must not hurt the students. We must not hurt the villains.

SWAT 3: This mission must go with prudence. So there would be no more killings.

SWAT 2: We've had enough. We've waited to long.

SWAT 1: Situation's rough. But we must be strong.

SWAT 2: The students will be defended.

SWAT 1: We'll free them all from sin.

SWAT 3: This chaos will be ended.

All SWATs: Get ready. Let's go in!

End song. SWAT officers leave. End scene one. Scene Two - Columbine Library Blood stained floors, bodies have been emptied out into the hall away from view. Phone on table is being used for negotiating.

Harris: Situation's under control.

Klebold: Man, I never knew we'd go this far. Everyone's in fear. The school is ours. And now our story is all over the country right now!

Harris: Revenge is ours, dude. OURS!

Phone on table rings. Klebold picks up.

Klebold: into phone What the hell? We said no more talking!

Sergeant Rose can be heard on other side of phone conversation.

Sgt. Rose: Ok, Klebold. Stand down from your position and prepare to be taken in.

Klebold: Blah, blah, blah. Who do you think you're fooling. We got the hostages so the circumstances are pointed in our favor.

Sgt. Rose: We got the students, Klebold.

Klebold: You're bluffing.

Harris: No he's not. Look. Points out window. There they are. Our hostages.

Klebold: Stop it, dick. That's not funny.

Harris: I'm serious. Look!

Sgt. Rose: Its over, kids.

Klebold: Its over when I say its over. Hangs up.

Harris: Now what do we do? We're screwed.

Klebold: Remember when I told you we had to make sacrifices?

Harris: .oh. I see.

Start song "End this war."

Harris: All our bombs exploded

Klebold: But we must remain calm

Harris: Our semis are still loaded

Klebold: Resting in our palms

Harris: Support us please, by going

Klebold: To TrenchcoatMafia.com

Together: Or we might. just have to end this war!

Klebold: Hostages are dying

Harris: Soon there'll be none left

Klebold: Their relatives are crying

Harris: Not soon to be bereft

Klebold: This will go down in history

Harris: Longer than larceny or theft

Together: Still we might. just have to end this war!

Harris: The cops are at the door

Klebold: And we're running low on shells

Harris: The halls are filled with gore

Klebold: And our plans have gone to Hell

Harris: We can't go on any more

Klebold: But it all went off just swell

Together: And now. we will. have. to end. this. war.

End song. Harris and Klebold put the guns in their mouths and commit suicide. Enter Cindy. Cindy: Oh, no! NOO!! I knew this would happen.

Walks up to the dead bodies and kneel down.

Cindy: Why the hell did you two have to do this? Starts crying.

Enter S.W.A.T. officers with Sergeant Rose.

SWAT 2: Oh, god.

SWAT 1: Damn.

Sgt. Rose walks up to Cindy.

Cindy: It shouldn't have ended like this.

Sgt. Rose: They brought this upon themselves.

Cindy: They weren't just murderers. They were my friends.

Sgt. Rose: I understand. to SWATs Get these bodies out of here. And be careful.

SWATs carefully carry bodies out of library.

Sgt. Rose: They'll get the right treatment. I promise.

Sgt. Rose leaves. Cindy pauses and then slowly walks away. End scene two.

Scene Three - The next day, on a hill several miles away from the school. On the hill is a memorial to Klebold and Harris. Two crosses and flowers. Cindy is standing there.

Cindy: Damn it, I'm going to miss the both of you.

Start song "Memorial"

Cindy: Why were they taken from this mortal plane? If only the gods would have let them remain. They could have been more than murderous men. If only the world were nicer to them.

Eric with his smile so bright. Could make day from darkest night. His humorous quips so funny and dear. It's such a shame he is no longer here.

Dylan, such a gorgeous man. He could make me laugh like no one can. He could have spread this cheer across the land. If only the world could understand.

They were hated, they were despised. But all of those negatives were a bunch of lies. And now you are gone, there's nothing I can do. And now the world will be empty without you.

End song. Cindy walks away. End scene three. End Act Three. The curtain falls. The End. love reddit

[tamsiblings]

take the sky - 1.16 "home again" promo

@wateronagreasefire

ask and ye shall receive!

notes:

this is 1.16 because i'm working under the assumption that the unaired episode "dead or alive" is canon. bc i'm self-indulgent like that <3

this isn't formatted exactly right yet and also might make some revisions/clean it up but here we go!

“HOME AGAIN”

ACT ONE

COLD OPEN 

EXT. FRYE HOUSE - DAY

WIDE SHOT of a cottage along a dirt path, outside of which is best described as threadbare. Old, small, and a little creak-y, but it’s surrounded by overgrown wildflowers and when the sun hits it just right, you can see how it might once have been very beautiful.

INT. FRYE HOUSE Inside, though, could be described as cramped and cluttered, yes, but still lively, brimming with color. Looks rightly like a home, just a bit out of order — tools on the kitchen table, old mugs that need to be cleared on one surface or another. A pile of blankets vaguely resembling a fort on the floor, a couple of small children whizzing around. CLOSE ON a man — ARCHOLD “ARCHIE” FRYE, mid-forties, clearing the tools to the side with his arm as he sits, prying open a letter and frowning. We can only make out a few words as he scans — “supply” — “alternative source” — “pleasure doing business”. But he gets interrupted before he can finish reading, by his sister-in-law, ELLABETH “EL” HOLLIS, in her late-thirties.

EL Archold, we’ve got a Wave.

ARCHIE I’ll look on it later, mei mei [little sister]. This backstabbin’ yōngyī [charlatan] is tryna wriggle outta our deal.

EL Best take a look now. It’s sent from Malcolm Reynolds.

A beat.

ARCHIE (now looking up) Captain Malcolm Reynolds? Somethin’ wrong with my daughter?

EL Nothin’ like that. They’re comin’ here on some job or ‘nother. Kaylee’s comin’ home.

END OF COLD OPEN

[BALLAD OF SERENITY PLAYS]

INT. SERENITY - DINING ROOM - NIGHT

Dinner scene, plates scattered everywhere, though the food’s mostly gone, been done for a while and now most of the crew (sans Simon) is shooting the breeze a bit. Wash and Zoe are curled into each other, River’s playing with the ends of her hair quietly.

INARA I can’t wait to see where you grew up, Kaylee.

Murmurings of agreement; Kaylee’s smiling but a touch bashful right this particular second.

KAYLEE Oh, it won’t be nothin’ so fanciful as you’re prob’ly used to, Inara.

MAL We’re there on business, anyhow.

INARA (ignoring him) I’m sure it’s lovely.

BOOK I’ve found the most beautiful places are often the least travelled to.

Gentle smile between the two.

JAYNE Oh, Preacher, you oughta be ashamed of yourself, flirtin’ on lil Kaylee like that. Man o’ cloth oughta know better.

Kaylee, sitting left of him, nudges him with her elbow.

BOOK (hears this joke way too much) It’s an uncertain, forbidden love between us.

The whole table laughs.

MAL Well, illicit affairs and the like aside, course is all set and according to Wash —

WASH We should be arriving in 14 hours give or take, so probably best we get some shut eye.

Some grumbling, but they start to disperse. Kaylee grabs a few plates still out on the table and rounds the corner to -

INT. SERENITY - KITCHEN

Where Simon is drying dishes by hand, back turned to her. Kaylee smiles, bemused.

KAYLEE

Not that I’m complainin’ or nothin’, but you know it was s’pposed to be my day on dishes, right?

[butterworthd]

Ok so I have this character in fallout who is a member of the legion. He is in all the fallout games (except for 1 and 2). I just wanted to post Caesars death speech that i made that makes my character Lucius Varro the new Caesar. This is defo the most iv put in to writing and making lore for a character (even for Xx_lilTimy_xX[maybe]) Anyway here it is.

The Death of Caesar – Rise of Lucius Varro

INT. CAESAR'S TENT – NIGHT

The air is thick with incense. Firelight flickers against crimson fabric. Caesar lies dying, weak but defiant. Lucius Varro kneels beside him, helmet at his side, eyes sharp and still.

Caesar (rasping): Come closer... I need to see the man who finished what I began.

Lucius: I’m here.

Caesar: You ended the NCR. Hoover Dam is ours. You burned their flags, crushed their generals, shattered their false republic. The Boomers fell. The Brotherhood died screaming in their bunkers. Mr. House—unplugged like a forgotten relic. Every faction, every defiance—erased. All for the Legion.

Lucius: And for you, Caesar.

Caesar (smiling faintly): You destroyed the Enclave. Sabotaged the purifier. Stole secrets no one else could reach. Not for glory. Not for self. But for Rome.

Lucius: Rome endures.

Caesar (gripping his wrist): No, Lucius. Rome rises. You’ve done what Lanius never could. He conquered bodies. You conquered history. You’re not my blade anymore. You’re my legacy. You are Caesar now.

Lucius: Say it. Let them know it was your will.

Caesar (whispering): Lucius Varro is dead. There is only... Caesar Invictus.

Caesar exhales, his breath shallow and ragged—a final, fading sigh that seems to carry the weight of a dying empire. The flickering torchlight catches the last glimmer in his eyes before they close forever, plunging the tent into a heavy silence that feels like the very air has stopped moving.

Lucius remains still for a long moment, his chest tight with the gravity of the moment. Then, with deliberate calm, he reaches for Caesar’s crimson sash—worn and stained from countless battles—and slowly wraps it around his own arm. The fabric feels heavier than cloth; it carries the legacy of a god-king and the burdens of war.

He rises. Every muscle taut, every breath measured. The new Caesar stands alone in the dim light—both inheritor and avenger of a fallen giant.

EXT. FORTIFICATION HILL – PRE-DAWN

The first pale hints of dawn creep across the horizon, but the air remains thick with expectation. Hundreds of Legionaries stand in rigid formation, their faces stoic, eyes sharp, weapons at the ready. Silence hangs over them like a shroud, every soldier holding their breath as if sensing the moment that will carve history.

The massive figure of Legate Lanius stands at the forefront, a mountain of armor and menace, his gaze locked on the tent’s entrance.

Then, from the shadowed opening, Lucius steps forth—clad in gleaming black armor, the deep red sash of Caesar blazing across his chest like a banner of blood and fire. Each step is slow, deliberate, echoing with the authority of a man who has claimed not just a title, but a destiny.

His voice cuts through the silence, cold and unyielding: “Caesar is dead. But Mars lives on.”

He advances further, every word steady and sharp, as if etching a new chapter in the annals of the Legion—a promise of relentless conquest and unbroken will.

Lucius (now Caesar Invictus): With his final breath, Caesar named me his successor. His will is law. You will obey me—or be purged from this world. I shattered the NCR. I took Hoover Dam—the lifeblood of their empire—and left their Rangers as nothing more than corpses in the dust. Their banners? Reduced to ash, blown away by the desert winds. The Boomers fell from the skies like fallen angels. The Brotherhood’s walls crumbled beneath our siege, their proud order broken and scattered. The Followers of the Apocalypse vanished like ghosts, powerless to resist. Mr. House? Killed. Forgotten. A relic buried beneath the ruins of the Strip. The Enclave—dismantled piece by piece. The purifier—once a weapon they dreamed to control—now belongs only to Rome. All who dared stand against us have been erased. From their ashes, we rise. From their ruins, we build a Rome stronger than stone or steel. A Rome that will not fall. A Rome that will never die.

Silence spreads like a heavy cloak across the assembled Legion. One by one, soldiers drop to their knees, weapons lowered, heads bowed in unwavering loyalty.

Even the fearsome Legate Lanius, the living storm of war, slowly lowers his gaze.

Lucius raises Caesar’s blade high, its edge catching the first light of dawn.

Lucius: Rome is eternal.

The firelight flares, casting long shadows that dance across hardened faces. A low murmur swells into a roaring chorus of chants, echoing up the hill and across the wasteland.

Caesar Invictus has risen.

[les-palais-de-lumiere]

The Digital Looking-Glass

Words and Artwork by Keith W

Copyright © Keith W 2020-25

In a whimsical Victorian bathroom, a bewildered Alice, her pragmatic sister Amy, and a surprisingly tech-savvy Friedrich Nietzsche engage in a hilariously anachronistic debate about the perils and dubious pleasures of social media.

ALICE (12): Still prone to flights of fancy, but with a nascent cynical streak.

AMY (9): Alice's younger sister. Practical, blunt, and surprisingly modern in her outlook.

FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE (50s): Looking rather dapper despite the era, sporting his magnificent mustache. He has an uncanny, almost prophetic understanding of social media, delivered with dramatic pronouncements.

Setting:

A gloriously over-the-top VICTORIAN BATHROOM. Claw-footed bathtub, potted ferns, ornate tiling, perhaps a small, slightly alarming taxidermied badger on a shelf. Steam gently rises.

EXT. VICTORIAN MANOR - MORNING

Sunlight, dappled and gentle, illuminates a grand Victorian manor. Birds chirp. All is serene.

INT. VICTORIAN BATHROOM - MORNING

The aforementioned bathroom. ALICE, wearing a slightly damp, oversized nightgown, is attempting to untangle a particularly stubborn knot in her hair with a brush that looks suspiciously like a croquet mallet. AMY, already dressed in a sensible pinafore, is meticulously polishing the brass taps.

Suddenly, with a faint POP and a whiff of ozone, FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE materializes, sitting perfectly upright on the edge of the claw-footed tub. He wears a dark, impeccably tailored suit, and his impressive mustache is pristine. He blinks, takes in his surroundings, and then sniffs the air.

> (Deep, resonant, slightly theatrical)

> Ah. The sacred ablution chamber. And... two cherubs. Though one appears to be wrestling with a particularly vexing hydra of the scalp.

Alice yelps, drops the "mallet," and spins around. Amy, however, simply straightens up, one hand on her hip.

> Excuse me, sir. Are you quite alright? And where did you come from? You’re dripping something… not water.

Nietzsche raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

> I have traversed the veil of temporal linearity, child. And the 'dripping something' is merely the lingering essence of existential ennui. A rather fashionable cologne in my epoch.

> Oh, like the looking-glass! Did you fall through a looking-glass? Is it a portal? Are there White Rabbits on the other side?

Nietzsche eyes her with a flicker of something akin to pity.

> A looking-glass, perhaps, but one reflecting the fractured soul of man, not mere whimsy. And no, no White Rabbits. Only... algorithms.

Amy snorts.

> Algorithms? You mean like my sums? 2 plus 2 equals 4. That kind of algorithm?

> (A pained sigh)

> Alas, no. These are algorithms of the digital realm. A vast, sprawling, invisible apparatus that dictates your every fleeting thought, your every fleeting purchase, your every... like.

Alice looks genuinely bewildered.

> A like? Is that like a favour? If I like your hat, is it a like?

Nietzsche fixes her with an intense stare.

> It is a fleeting validation. A tiny, dopamine-infused nugget of affirmation, dispensed by unseen masters. They call it... Social Media.

Amy, who has resumed polishing, scoffs.

> Sounds rather inefficient. Why bother with tiny nuggets when you can have a full roasted chicken?

> Because the full roasted chicken offers true sustenance, child. Social media offers only the illusion of sustenance. A constant, nagging hunger for external approval.

Alice, ever the idealist, brightens.

> But surely it connects people! You could find out what all your friends are doing! And share your adventures! Like when I met the Cheshire Cat!

Nietzsche shudders visibly.

> Bah! 'Connecting people'! It merely amplifies the echo chamber of the self! Everyone shouting into the void, convinced their own echo is profound wisdom! And 'sharing adventures'? It is a narcissistic exhibition, a frantic race for fleeting attention, a desperate plea for manufactured adoration!

He points a dramatic finger at Amy.

> Soon, even you, sensible one, will find yourself meticulously documenting your brass-polishing techniques, hoping for a 'heart' from a stranger!

Amy looks genuinely appalled.

> Good heavens! Who would waste time looking at polished brass when there’s so much actual brass to polish?

> But what if you saw a lovely picture of a teapot? Or a particularly fluffy dormouse? Surely that would be

Nice?

> Nice? It is a tyranny of the trivial! A ceaseless parade of curated banalities! The grand narratives of life reduced to bite-sized pronouncements and fleeting, ephemeral 'stories' that vanish after twenty-four hours, just like the meaning they never possessed!

He stands, pacing the small bathroom with surprising intensity.

> And the comparisons! Oh, the insidious comparisons! Everyone presenting their idealized, filter-enhanced existence, driving their peers into paroxysms of self-doubt and inadequacy! It is a grand, global competition of fabricated happiness!

Alice looks thoughtful, fiddling with a stray curl.

> So… no one is really happy? They just pretend to be happy for the likes?

> Precisely! They are slaves to the digital whip, constantly performing for an unseen audience, sacrificing authenticity for the fleeting applause of the masses! The very notion of 'truth' becomes malleable, shaped by the most compelling narrative, regardless of its factual basis!

Amy, surprisingly, nods.

> Like when Cook told Aunt Mildred that the Vicar’s new waistcoat was "charming," but then whispered to me that it made him look like a particularly plump goose.

Nietzsche snaps his fingers, his eyes gleaming.

> Exactly! But amplified to the nth degree! Imagine a million Cooks, all simultaneously complimenting and secretly ridiculing a million waistcoats, all online, all the time! The very fabric of genuine human connection unravels into a tapestry of calculated appearances!

Alice, a touch of her old wonder returning, looks at him intently.

> So, you think it’s… bad? Even if it lets you see funny cat videos?

Nietzsche pauses, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. He sighs, then slumps back onto the tub's edge.

> Ah, the cat videos. A potent opiate for the masses, a charming distraction from the creeping nihilism. Even I, the Übermensch-proponent, confess a certain… morbid fascination. But at what cost, child? At what cost?

He gestures dramatically around the Victorian bathroom.

> Give me this. Give me the solid brass. Give me the vexing hair. Give me the tangible reality of a morning bath, even with its mundane challenges, over the digital phantoms of superficial validation!

Amy smiles, a rare, genuine smile.

> I concur, sir. This brass, at least, feels real. And it shines properly when you put in the effort.

Alice, though still a little confused, finally manages to untangle her hair. She holds up the croquet mallet-brush triumphantly.

> Well, I prefer proper brushes. And I think I'd rather have a tea party with real Mad Hatters than just 'like' a picture of one.

Nietzsche looks at the two girls, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips.

> (Muttering to himself)

> Perhaps there is hope yet for humanity. Though, I still maintain, the cat videos are quite compelling.

He gives another faint POP, and the scent of existential ennui, and vanishes.

Alice and Amy blink. Alice looks at her sister.

> Did that just happen?

> I don't know, Alice…but look what mummy left in the bathroom... and I'm quite sure I won't be sharing a picture of it online.

She winks. Alice grins, and they both return to the mundane, yet wonderfully real, tasks of their Victorian morning.

[crimsondestroyer]

funny pecharunt ramble

Okay. So. Ever since Mochi Mayhem released, it seems like people have basically entirely thrown out the theory that Kieran was being controlled/influenced by Pecharunt. However, I still think this is a valid theory - especially after we got the video explaining Pecharunt's backstory with the old couple.

My personal theory has always been that Pecharunt's power is somehow unconsciously affecting those around it, causing them to be affected - giving them the drive and power to accomplish their dreams, but causing them to become obsessed with those dreams to a self-destructive extent. Now, in Mochi Mayhem, Pecharunt's powers are shown to do exactly one thing (control people while making them dance and say "mochi" a lot), and a lot of people have been jokingly saying that this means Kieran can't have been controlled by Pecharunt, because if he was, it would be much more obvious and silly. However, it's worth noting that this is not the only way we've seen Pecharunt control people. To better explain this, I'm going to use @possessable's possession shorthand code (explanation of how it works here). Throughout Pecharunt's story and backstory, we see at least three entirely distinct uses of Pecharunt's powers to control people, which function in entirely different ways:

The powers used in Mochi Mayhem, which cause people to dance and be directly controlled.

The powers used on the Loyal Three, making them much more powerful and granting their "wishes" in exchange for serving Pecharunt as retainers.

The powers used on the old couple, causing them to become much greedier and constantly ask Pecharunt for things.

These three function entirely differently. They are all inflicted by someone eating mochi created by Pecharunt, but otherwise, they all do different things. Here are some shorthand codes explaining how they all work (thanks to @possessable for helping me figure some of these out):

Mochi Mayhem: Y-S-Y-EXT-N-4-N-P-B-S-INT-N

Loyal Three: Y-S-Y-EXT-N-3-Y-Y-M-F-INT-Y

Old Couple: Y-S-Y-EXT-N-1-Y-N-M-?-INT-?

Notably, while Mochi Mayhem's control is obvious and complete, the other two cases involve amplifying things that were already there, and the old couple's control didn't even seem to be intentional - since Pecharunt just wanted affection, if it was controlling them on purpose, why didn't it just... make them more affectionate?

From this, you can clearly see that Pecharunt's powers work in several different ways, and, in fact, there are MORE instances of it working in significantly less direct ways. Based on this, I don't think it's unreasonable to assert that Pecharunt's powers might've had something to do with Kieran's villain arc. At the time, Kieran was undergoing a lot of stress, due to Carmine and the player hiding the truth from him about Ogerpon. And, as we now know, Pecharunt was nearby the whole time. I mean, the scene of Kieran finding out the truth and dramatically walking away literally happened DIRECTLY next to Pecharunt. I don't think it's unreasonable to infer Pecharunt's powers might've been unconsciously influencing Kieran during the DLC stories - he overcomes the influence in the end, but that doesn't mean it was never there.

In fact... isn't there another instance of someone being in Kitakami, and then later going on to become insanely obsessed with some sort of goal, to the point of pursuing it single-mindedly, beyond reason and logic? An instance that is actively called out as being illogical and unexpected? A case where the person seems to be convinced that completing their chosen goal will grant them something they wish for, above anything else?

Interesting.

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

'ENDLESS PERIOD'

INT. A STAGE IN SOME SORT OF AUDITORIUM.

The curtains of the stage are closed. ELLIE suddenly appears, running out onto CENTER stage.

ELLIE

(nervously, clasping hands together, nodding along as he speaks)

WELCOME to the period blood show tonight! We're supposed to go for another five to seven days continuously, so make sure to stretch those ass cheeks now!

LAUGH TRACK.

CUT to the empty audience. A cough is heard OFF-SCREEN.

ELLIE

(coughs nervously)

ANYWAY! Our beloved star The Uterus has yet to arrive, so i'll be entertaining you all BRIEFLY until he arrives.

ELLIE does a GAY LITTLE DANCE and JAZZ HANDS.

ELLIE

TA-DA!

UNKNOWN

(O.S.)

You suck!

ELLIE

(laughs)

The Uterus will be here any moment! ANY moment! Any second! It'll be here so soon! Any second now!

HARD CUT.

EXT. A DESERT HIGH WAY

THE UTERUS sticks out one of its tiny stubs like a hitchhiking thumb.

A car pulls up with DEAN MORIARTY and SAL PARADISE inside.

DEAN

(leaning so far out car window he is liable to fall out of the car)

What can we do for you? What's your reason, baby? Wanna ride?

SAL just smiles fondly.

THE UTERUS

(growls and barks for at least a solid minute)

DEAN

OH OH OH! Yaasss... I get the situation, oh, I get it... Hop inside, little ride. Quick-ly!

DEAN throws the car door open and THE UTERUS scurries inside.

SAL

We're going to try to make it down to Frisco, by the way. You need us to drop you off on the way?

DEAN

(through giggles)

Or are you riding the breeze... If you know, you know!

THE UTERUS

(growls and barks in a softer tone)

DEAN

(winks awkwardly)

I do like your style! You damn well get me, huh...! Just you wait...

HARD CUT.

INT. MOTEL BEDROOM

CLOSE UP of SAL lying on his side on a bed. He smiles softly at the camera. The bed shakes as man whimpers and short barks and whines fill the air.

HARD CUT.

INT. A STAGE IN SOME SORT OF AUDITORIUM.

ELLIE is covered in tomato stains.

ELLIE

And that was, uh, my best impression of Bobby Hill from King of the Hill.

(does Bobby Hill impression)

That's right, Daddy!

Another tomato hits ELLIE in the stomach.

HARD CUT.

EXT. OUTSIDE A MOTEL IN SAN FRANCISCO

DEAN and THE UTERUS embrace.

DEAN

(tears welling in his eyes. The reason why is unclear.)

Now, I'm already a Daddy and all, so let me know! Let me know AS SOON AS POSSIBLE, sugar...

(aside, to SAL)

AY! I sure hope not!

THE UTERUS

(growls out something obviously mean)

DEAN's lip quivers as he detaches himself from THE UTERUS.

DEAN

Su-it your-self!

DEAN runs off, jumping into someone else's car with the keys conveniently left in there. SAL yelps and hops in after him and they drive off.

SOME GUY

(running after the car)

My car! MY CAR! MY CA-A-A-AR!

SOME GUY hits his knees. THE UTERUS scoffs and walks off.

FADE TO BLACK.

INT. A BED

CLOSE UP of THE UTERUS as it whimpers and whines, writhing around. Movement and fabric movement are heard OFF-SCREEN.

SOMEONE WE ALL KNOW

(O.S.)

Yeah, yeah, I know, I know... It's okay, honey.

THE UTERUS

(whines)

SOMEONE WE ALL KNOW

(O.S)

Let the Holy Spirit move right through you....

(voice wavering)

Yes, yes....

FADE TO BLACK as THE UTERUS howls.

INT. A STAGE IN SOME SORT OF AUDITORIUM.

THE UTERUS busts in through the door.

ELLIE

(quickly)

FIN-AL-LY, the man of the hour! The multiple months!

THE UTERUS runs up on stage and vomits KENSINGTON BLOOD all over the audience and camera. Blood fills the auditorium.

The blood then cartoonishly drains as SOMEONE WE ALL KNOW opens the door, still remaining OFF-SCREEN.

SOMEONE WE ALL KNOW

(O.S.)

You're welcome, by the way.

OVERHEAD SHOT of ELLIE, lying on the ground, covered in blood, as he coughs up blood. He gives the camera a thumbs up.

IRIS OUT, ZOOM onto ELLIE's smiling face.

THE END.

[avaford2009]

Wall-E (Rewrite) - Questioning AUTO and GO-4/Our Message To The People -

EXT. THE AXIOM - OUTSIDE ROYAL CASTLE - NOON

All of Axiom chatter as their AUTO and GO-4 approaches them on their stage. Mostly, they were talking about the light last night, certain that it was AUTO’s doing.

AUTO

Quiet, quiet, quiet! I know you are all wondering about that little light last night.

The crowd bursts into applause at the mention of the light.

AUTO

A light I did not command or condone!

The applause dies down as the citizens now realize that they have no clue what that light was.

AUTO

It was magic, though quite clumsy and amateurish. It was also completely forbidden. There is a traitor amongst us… who defied the law. They used magic to put you all at risk!

The crowd gasps in shock.

AUTO

But don’t worry, they are no match for me. And I assure you, when caught, they will be punished severely.

As AUTO talks, Eve looks up to the top of the castle.

EVE

(SOFTLY) Wall-E.

INT. AXIOM ROYAL CASTLE, THE STUDY - NOON

The dumbwaiter in the study.

STAR

(MUFFLED) You are awfully slow at this.

The bell outside the dumbwaiter rings.

WALL-E

(MUFFLED) Shhh. I think we’re here.

STAR

(MUFFLED) Finally!

The door nudges slightly open but it’s not enough, the lock on it keeping the trio from escaping.

WALL-E

(MUFFLED) Let’s go. Oh no.

Wall-E tries to open it a few more times, but nothing.

WALL-E

(MUFFLED) No, no, no, no, no. It’s locked.

Star stuck out his tiny arm from under the door.

WALL-E

What are you doing?

STAR

Seeing if I can’t get this lock open.

He fires a ball of stardust which hits a quill, bringing it to life and causing it to draw on some nearby paper. Star fires another ball, this time hitting the scissors which also brings it to life to chase the quill. This pattern continues several times before Wall-E has had enough.

WALL-E

Star, please don’t break anything. Stop! Look, you can turn into anything, right?

STAR

Pretty much, yeah.

WALL-E

Then turn into a piece of paper. I’ll slide you under the door and you can just open it normally.

STAR

Huh, not a bad plan.

Wall-E cracks open the door and a golden piece of paper falls out. The piece of paper turns into Star’s human self, glowing hair and all, who then opens the door to let Wall-E out.

WALL-E

Yes!

Wall-E, and Star see the King’s desk completely covered in flames right before it explodes.

EXT. THE AXIOM - OUTSIDE ROYAL CASTLE - NOON

Eve was the only one to notice the explosion in the King’s study. She looks back down to AUTO, who was still continuing his speech.

AUTO

The Axiom needs you. Any information would be most helpful. And I know you will never, ever let me down. Thank you.

The crowd applauds as AUTO and GO-4 turn to walk away. Eve does her best to distract them.

EVE

Your Majesty, wait! Please!

All eyes are now on Eve.

AUTO

Yes, go on.

Eve clears her throat as she tries to think of something.

EVE

Ahem. Okay. (CHUCKLES NERVOUSLY) Hi. Hi. Uh… Hi, I’m Eve. Look, BRL-A and L-T make your AUTO and GO-4 cookies.

Eve pulls out of AUTO and GO-4 cookies in her pocket, GO-4 look at her baffled, and AUTO just rolls his objectively sparkly eyes.

AUTO

(GROANS) Fantastic. What can I do for you, Eve?

EVE

(CHUCKLING) Oh. Thank you for asking. (CLEARS THROAT) You said any information would be helpful. Uh-huh. But pragmatically speaking, what qualifies? Evidentiary? How about circumstantial? (SIGHS) First hand? Ooh, second hand?

RANDOM CITIZEN #1

What about hunches?

EVE

Oh. Sure. How about hunches?

AUTO

Yes, any. Any information about who or what caused the light would be helpful. So, yes, hunch. Hunch away.

RANDOM CITIZEN #2

You said it was amateur magic, but how come you don't know how they did it?

AUTO

What?

EVE

Perhaps you could define “amateur”?

GO-4

AUTO is perfectly aware of what kind of spell it was. He just needs your help tracking down whoever is responsible.

AUTO

This is about what you know. (INHALES) This is about your safety, and most importantly, the safety of your wishes.

HAN-S

Um, do you mean our wishes aren’t safe?

EVE

Of course they’re safe!

Eve chuckles nervously, now beginning to regret what she had started.

INT. AXIOM ROYAL CASTLE, THE STUDY - NOON

Wall-E manages to put out the last of the fire using a vase full of water. He scoops up everything that was burnt and hides it in the dumbwaiter.

STAR

(LAUGHS) Good as new.

WALL-E

Whew. Hope he didn’t need those.

STAR

Sorry about that.

WALL-E

We’ll talk about this later. (GASPS) Right, the wishes.

Wall-E, and Star run up to the obsidian wall that hides the real study.

STAR

I can feel the wishes just through here.

WALL-E

That’s actually a door, and AUTO waved his hand and it just…

Star waves his hand and the obsidian doors open.

STAR

See?

WALL-E

I really need to learn how to do that someday. But first, Mary’s wish.

The two of them run into the room and look up to where all the wishes are floating. Star flies up to them and delicately touches them one-by-one, watching as they show the desires of the townspeople.

STAR

All these wishes. The hopes and dreams of so many people left here to gather dust. It’s-it’s maddening to see them treated like this!

WALL-E

Star, are you alright?

STAR

(CALMING DOWN) I’m fine. Let’s just hurry and get these wishes out of here.

WALL-E

You mean get Mary’s wish out of here. Remember, we’re only after one.

STAR

I still say we may as well bust them all  out of here. You’ve already committed to asking for forgiveness instead of permission.

WALL-E

Star, I’m glad you are having fun, but you have to focus. Please, find Mary’s wish as fast as you can!

STAR

Alright. Now that I know what he looks like, it shouldn’t be too—Oh, dangit.

Star turns around and realizes there are far, far more wishes to sift through than he anticipated.

EXT. THE AXIOM, OUTSIDE ROYAL CASTLE - NOON

What was supposed to be a simple decree meant to persuade the people into helping him find the star turned into an impromptu Q&A session that AUTO and GO-4 did not appreciate.

RANDOM CITIZEN #3

How do we know our wishes are safe? We never see them.

RANDOM CITIZEN #4

Why can’t we see them? Why is that a rule?

RANDOM CITIZEN #5

And why can’t we remember them?

EVE

One question at a time.

RANDOM CITIZEN #6

Since we’re asking, what if we want to change our wish?

RANDOM CITIZEN #7

Good point, wishes can change.

EVE

Let’s form a line, everyone will get a turn.

RANDOM CITIZEN #8

You know what would comfort us? Another wish ceremony.

That suggestion sends a tidal wave across the audience. Nearly every citizen in Axiom is now practically begging AUTO to grant another wish ceremony. AUTO looks like he’s about to explode, but GO-4 places a gentle hand on his shoulder and whispers into his ear.

GO-4

(WHISPER) At ease, AUTO. Then I'll let you handle this.

AUTO raises one arm, silencing the entire crowd.

AUTO

Whoever identifies the traitor, your wish will be granted!

L-T

What?

The rest of the audience cheers while Reject Bots look concerned and dumbstruck. AUTO has just assured that everybody in the city will be looking for Wall-E.

AUTO

But hear this! Anyone who helps the traitor, anyone who lets me down, your wish will never be granted!

AUTO and GO-4 turn away and walk back into the castle.

EVE

(O.S.) Wait! Your majesty!

AUTO doesn’t even bother to stop or look at her.

AUTO

Enough!

INT. THE AXIOM ROYAL CASTLE, THE GREAT HALL - NOON

AUTO and GO-4 shut the great doors behind them and make their way up the stairs to the study.

AUTO

How brazenly they question me!

GO-4

The utter gall.

AUTO

Of all the ungrateful–! I let them live here rent-free, I keep the skies perfect, I grant their wishes! And it’s never enough for them! I swear if I didn’t need their wishes I’d-I’d-!

GO-4

Easy, AUTO. You just need to focus on the bigger picture.

GO-4 turns AUTO to one of the many wall length mirrors that surround the stairs.

GO-4

Now, what do you see?

AUTO

A handsome king?

GO-4

The handsomest king who is now one step closer to never needing another wish again.

AUTO

And one step closer to granting your wish. The entire world…

GO-4

…in the palm of our hands. And I found something in the book that would be just perfect to commemorate this occasion.

AUTO

Oh?

GO-4

And that cleaning robot is getting far too curious for his own good, and now, lights in the sky for tonight?!

AUTO

Well, GO-4, Wall-E did get his wits from you. Forget that pathetic light! For now, we finally have enough wishes!

AUTO AND GO-4 dance with each other up the stairs.

GO-4

♪Now much to our delight♪

♪Tonight may be the night♪

♪We truly rule this kingdom♪

♪With every wish our dreams we'll ignite♪

AUTO

♪Those foolish people have no clue♪ 

♪Their wishes never will come true♪

♪Mine already has cause I have you my beautiful♪

AUTO dips GO-4 and tries to kiss him but he stops him, wanting him to stay focused.

GO-4

The book, AUTO!

AUTO

Of course, GO-4.

GO-4

♪With every page we turn♪

♪Dark spells and magic we'll learn to fulfil our evil fantasies♪

GO-4 & AUTO

♪We will seal their fates together♪

♪With this ancient forbidden power♪

♪Reign supreme♪ 

♪Our royal regime♪  

♪They'll never expect it from their evil kings♪

Wall-E, and Star still looking for Mary’s wish only to hear someone come into the study, they heard AUTO and GO-4 opening the door.

GO-4 & AUTO

♪This is our message to the people♪

Reflections of them appear on the obsidian wall and join in on the song.

GO-4 & AUTO

♪We'll take them down♪

AUTO

♪I wanna see them bow in humility♪

AUTO waves his hand and the glass case containing the book opens. The book flies from where it was resting to GO-4’s hands.

GO-4 & AUTO

♪We'll make them bow♪

GO-4 opens the book to show a picture of a staff topped with several green mirrors.

GO-4

♪Their dreams will never see the light of day♪

GO-4 & AUTO

♪The time is now♪

AUTO opens the door to his secret study and he and GO-4 step inside. Wall-E, and Star hide behind one of the work tables, peaking their heads just enough to see what they are doing.

GO-4 & AUTO

♪We'll watch them as they squirm and plead♪

♪This is our message to♪

AUTO pulls the cauldron towards them and begins plucking wishes from above their heads. Specifically, the wishes of the people who questioned him earlier. He then begins crushing the wishes and placing them in the cauldron as GO-4 gathers ingredients from around the room.

AUTO

♪Everyone who has given up their wish♪

♪Crushed♪

♪Destroyed♪

♪Sent into a dark abyss♪

Wall-E, and Star get on their hands and knees to try to sneak to the dumbwaiter while they aren’t looking. Wall-E had to almost drag Star with them to keep him from attacking the pair over their treatment of the wishes.

GO-4

♪Now it's fuelling our wicked ambitions♪

♪To send the city into submission♪

GO-4 drops the majority of the ingredients he has in HIS hands into the cauldron, turning the blue concoction inside sickly green. He then dips a long piece of wood into the cauldron, turning it into the eruption like a volcano from the book. He hands the rings to AUTO who takes it gleefully, his eyes turning green as he does so.

GO-4

♪With these rings we make a vow♪

♪We'll use the powers they endow♪

GO-4 and AUTO uses to put their rings in their ring finger, creating a green map of the globe that stretches across the floor of both studies.

AUTO

♪To build an army that follows our command♪

Wall-E, and Star, who have made it to the dumbwaiter at this point, sees the map under their feet and are distracted long enough to notice the AUTO’s and GO-4’s shadows appear back in the room. They duck down and hide under the desk.

GO-4

♪Then take our forces overseas♪  

♪And rule the world for eternity♪

The parts of the map that represent land become blacked out as AUTO and GO-4 walk back into the other study, representing the expansion of their conquest. AUTO and GO-4’s feet appear in front of the trio as the two of them put the book back where it was. Star tries to lunge at them but Wall-E holds him back.

AUTO

♪We'll step on anyone who gets in our way♪

GO-4

♪No one will dare defy♪

AUTO

♪Death to those who don't comply♪

GO-4 & AUTO

♪They'll worship and adore us like Gods!♪

AUTO conjures glowing green projections of several of the townsfolk, enough that they fill the room, all with their backs turned towards them.

GO-4 & AUTO

♪This is our message to the people♪

♪We'll take them down♪

AUTO

♪I wanna see them bow in humility♪

GO-4 & AUTO

♪We'll make them bow♪

GO-4

♪Their dreams will never see the light of day♪

GO-4 & AUTO

♪The time is now♪

♪We'll watch them as they squirm and plead♪

♪This is our message to♪

The both of them split up and walk around the room. The two of them take this chance to open the dumbwaiter and crawl inside, leaving the door just open enough for them to observe AUTO and GO-4.

GO-4

♪In time, we’ll bless our subjects and show them who we are♪

AUTO

♪They may try to escape, but well, they can't go very far♪

AUTO and GO-4 walk all the way around to the other side of the room. There, it’s shown that there’s a projection of Wall-E facing all of the other projections AUTO created.

GO-4

♪They think we're here to help them♪

♪Oh, how sad!♪

GO-4 & AUTO

♪Next time try wishing on a star!♪

They both place a hand on the Wall-E projection’s shoulders. It raises its arms and casts green strands of energy that wraps around the other projections’ wrists and legs, forcing them to kneel before AUTO and GO-4.

GO-4 & AUTO

♪This is our message to the people♪

♪We'll take them down♪

AUTO

♪I wanna see them bow in humility♪

GO-4 & AUTO

♪We'll make them bow♪

GO-4

♪Their dreams will never see the light of day♪

GO-4 & AUTO

♪The time is now♪

♪We'll watch them as they squirm and plead♪

♪This is our message to♪

The two of them then hug passionately. Wall-E is too horrified by the sight before him to close the door and Star is too enraged, leaving it slide it shut with stardust.

[istherewifiinhell]

I have no means but to post these one at a time I suppose. anyway. The one me and everyone other person has clipped.

Gay car clips 👍🏻

[VD: TFP clip. Ext. The Nemesis space ship in the sky. Thunder and lightening. Int. The command bridge.

Starscream: It's about time Knockout, I do not enjoy being kept waiting.

Knockout, sauntering onto the bridge, gesturing lazily: [Sighs] It was a long drive Starscream. I'm still picking bugs out of my grill. [Plucks one of himself between sharp fingers, and flicks it way]

Starscream, turning around, judgementally: Yes, right, you're one of those.

Knockout: Come again?

Starscream stalks a circle around Knockout: Never understood why any self respecting Decepticon would choose automobile as his vehicle mode. [Comes arount to face Knockout] When he could have flight.

Knockout, foppishly: I like the way I look in steel belted radials.

[butternuggets-blog]

DRACULA: A Modern Adaptation

My script for a modern tv adaptation of Dracula, based on the novel by Bram Stoker Also on AO3

EPISODE TWO

201     EXT. CASTLE DRACULA

There is a figure standing inside the now-open door, far enough back that Jonathan has room to enter. It is DRACULA, holding an antique silver lamp, standing stock still like the world’s most awkward dinner date.

DRACULA

[in English] Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own will!

That was a strange turn of phrase. Perhaps something was lost in translation. Dracula’s English is heavily accented and practised but slow, each word carefully chosen. He is new to the language. He looks like a tall, old man with white hair.

Jonathan steps across the threshold. His fate is sealed.

Dracula, smiling, darts forward and shakes Jonathan’s hand. Jonathan winces; his grip is too strong, too tight, and the flesh deathly cold.

JONATHAN

Count Dracula?

Dracula nods.

DRACULA

I am Dracula. Come in; the nights are cold in the mountains and you must be starved.

JONATHAN

I am quite hungry, yes, but if it’s too much trouble-

DRACULA

No trouble at all!

202     TRACKING SHOT - INT. CASTLE DRACULA – DINING ROOM

Dracula leads Jonathan “along the passage…up the staircase…and along another passage” to the dining room [possibly a drawing room, judging by the description in the novel] set with plates for dinner but no food. Dracula opens a side door and shows Jonathan the guest bedroom and ensuite bathroom.

203     INT. CASTLE DRACULA – GUEST BEDROOM

DRACULA

Please, wash your hands and refresh yourself, and I will summon the servants to come and lay out dinner.

Dracula leaves.

204     INT. CASTLE DRACULA – GUEST BEDROOM ENSUITE

Jonathan washes his hands, noticing that the bathroom has no mirror.

JONATHAN

That’s odd.

205     INT. CASTLE DRACULA – DINING ROOM

Jonathan leaves the bathroom and returns to the dining room where Dracula is waiting. He is pleasantly surprised to see that the table is laden with a feast: “..roast chicken…some cheese and a salad…and a bottle of old Tokay, of which [Jonathan has] two glasses”. He sits down and begins to eat.

JONATHAN

My compliments to the chef.

DRACULA

I will pass it along.

Dracula is sitting opposite Jonathan, at the head of the table. He is not eating.

JONATHAN

[gesturing] You won’t…

DRACULA

No, thank you. I have dined already tonight, and I do not sup.

He speaks fluent English with an intonation from another time.

JONATHAN

Oh, before I forget-

Jonathan pulls out an envelope and hands it to Dracula. He opens it and retrieves the letter inside, unfolding it.

Dracula tuts, sympathetically.

DRACULA

Gout; a painful condition indeed. Mr Hawkins has great faith in you!

JONATHAN

I should hope so; he helped train me!

DRACULA

Oh?

JONATHAN

While I was still doing my solicitor training in Exeter he let me sort papers and answer phones in his office. And now I work for him! It’s all come together quite brilliantly, really.

DRACULA

And led you here to me! Tell me, how are you finding our little part of the world?

JONATHAN

The Carpathians are…quaint. Very rural…not that there’s anything wrong with keeping to tradition! It’s good to be able to hold onto culture.

DRACULA

Our traditions are what is holding this country back! We need to divorce the past and marry the future if we are to survive this evolving world.

Jonathan looks self-conscious. He wants to ask an awkward question but isn’t sure how to broach the subject. He goes for it.

JONATHAN

…on the ride here, the people in the coach were calling you-…things.

DRACULA

Ordog? Stregoica?

Jonathan nods.

DRACULA

Capitalism makes monsters of us all. I am an eternal optimist looking to raise people to the exalted peaks of the twenty-first century, and everyone else prefers to consign themselves to mud.

Wolves howling outside cuts through the conversation, startling Jonathan. He looks nervous; Dracula takes notice, smiles.

DRACULA

Ah, you city dwellers. But you must be tired. Sleep well and dream well, and stay abed as long as you want. I have to be away till the afternoon.

Dracula stands up; Jonathan does as well. Dracula opens Jonathan’s bedroom door for him, bows deeply, and leaves.

206     FADE IN – INT. CASTLE DRACULA – GUEST BATHROOM ENSUITE

It is day again; late afternoon specifically. Jonathan, dressed messily in pyjamas and a bathrobe, walks sleepily into the bathroom. He pulls a toilette bag out and is surprised to find that his modern mirror has been replaced with an antique silver-backed hand mirror.

207     FLASHBACK - INT. GOLDEN KRONE HOTEL – ROOM SEVEN

The Old Man rifles through Jonathan’s belongings. He swaps out the mirror with the antique, pocketing it.

208     INT. CASTLE DRACULA – LIBRARY

Montage of Jonathan getting dressed, having breakfast, and entering a library. Jonathan is astonished; he wanders the room slowly, with a look of wonder on his face. As he moves in a slow circle around the library, carefully inspecting the collection, the windows set in the walls behind him show the sped-up setting of the sun.

The library collection holds many glossy, modern books, magazines and newspapers. They are in excellent shape if well-read and all dated to the early 2000s. There is a Whitaker’s Almanac on a table sitting beside Jonathan’s work document case.

Go wild set dressers! Throw in some Lonely Planet, some National Geographic. Whatever’s funniest!

The Count enters the room.

DRACULA

[gesturing to the bookcases] I see you have found my friends!

JONATHAN

You have an impressive collection.

DRACULA

I thank you. I have tried to capture London, and England, within these walls but the true spirit of a country must be experienced! It cannot simply be read. I have taught myself English but even that…[vague gesture]…to speak words in another tongue I have only parroted back to myself; it is not enough to know the grammar and form, I must be fluent!

JONATHAN

But you do! You speak very well, especially for being self-taught.

DRACULA

[raises a finger] “Very well” is not fluent. Here I am noble, I am boyar. The people know me and their place and I am master. But if I am a stranger in a strange land, one who cannot make myself understood with the correct inflections, the correct intonation…no. You must correct me when I make error-

JONATHAN

Make ‘an’ error.

DRACULA

What?

JONATHAN

You mean…um…when you make “an” error.

Dracula smiles warmly, “…his lips [run] back over his gums, the long, sharp, canine teeth showed out strangely…”, his arms wide. Jonathan blinks at the fangs but he’s British; politely ignoring the eccentric appearance of wealthy people is in his bones.

DRACULA

There! You see? I am learning already. Now, tell me about the house you have purchased for me in England.

JONATHAN

Oh! Yes.

He retrieves a sheaf of papers from his document case. The bag has a four-digit combination lock; one…seven…zero-seven, Mina’s birthday.

JONATHAN

The estate is called Carfax…

209     INT. CASTLE DRACULA – LIBRARY

A montage begins of Jonathan and Dracula reviewing and signing the paperwork for the estate.

Jonathan pulls out printed maps and blueprints for Carfax. He shows Dracula drone-shot photographs, and has him sign a thick sheaf of forms.

Behind them, night moves on.

Dracula leaves temporarily; while he’s gone Jonathan packs away his forms and circuits the library again. Reading the spines, he finds a well-worn book with no title. It’s an atlas; it falls open in Jonathan’s hands to a map of England.

[Camera zooms in] There are three places circled; the area in Purfleet where Carfax is, Exeter and Whitby.

210     [FADE-IN] INT. CASTLE DRACULA – DINING ROOM

The perspective fades through the map to show Dracula and Jonathan seated in the dining room again, talking and eating- well, Jonathan is eating- dinner. Perspective fades through the scene again; now they are sitting before the fire, still talking, Jonathan nursing a crystal glass of brandy.

A loud rooster crow sounds from outside the castle. Dracula, startled by the noise, jumps to his fleet.

DRACULA

Look at the time; it is dawn again! I apologise for keeping you up, my friend, you must get some sleep. You are far too interesting a tour guide for new home!

Dracula bows politely as Jonathan smiles, pleased and self-effacing. Jonathan returns the bow as he stands; he turns slightly to put the glass down on a side table beside his chair and when he turns back Dracula has vanished.

211 INT. CASTLE DRACULA – GUEST BEDROOM

Jonathan is lying asleep in bed, twitching, tossing and turning restlessly. Eventually he comes out of REM sleep and sighs heavily; it’s clear he is not going to get much sleep.

Jonathan opens his eyes and gets out of bed.

212 INT. CASTLE DRACULA – GUEST BATHROOM

Jonathan is shaving, the camera focussed on his reflection in the silver-backed mirror which shows the audience the entirety of the room.

As he scrapes the safety razor down one cheek, there is a visible depression on his right shoulder as if someone is placing a hand there even though there is no one standing behind him in the mirror.

DRACULA

Good morning

Jonathan startles. The razor slips. Jonathan hisses in pain and drops the razor; he fumbles with his toilette bag for a plaster but an inhumanely strong grip on his shoulder forces him to turn around. Up this close Dracula seems a little younger; one or two fewer wrinkles, and there is grey peppering his white hair.

There is a hungry fury blazing in his eyes.

Dracula lunges for Jonathan – aiming for his face? His throat? Jonathan stumbles back a step and the movement shifts the crucifix up and out from beneath his shirt a little.

Dracula’s fingers brush the beads and he snaps back as if slapped. Jonathan, breathlessly, and Dracula, resentful, eye each other for a long moment.

DRACULA

Be careful with yourself. Bleeding can be more dangerous than you think in this country.

JONATHAN

…I know..germs…

DRACULA

Mmm

Dracula suddenly grabs the mirror and dashes it against the wall. It shatters. Jonathan gapes at the sudden carnage. He does not notice that Dracula has vanished.

JONATHAN

Wha-

He is standing in the bathroom alone.

213     INT. CASTLE DRACULA – DINING ROOM

Jonathan leaves his rooms and finds breakfast set for him in the dining room. Dracula is not there.

[fade out, scene overlap] Jonathan wipes his mouth with a napkin, and gets up from his chair, having finished his breakfast. He starts to leave.

214     INT. CASTLE DRACULA

[Aerial shot] Jonathan walks the corridors. A few doors, close to the guest quarters; [close up shot; side profile] Jonathan tries one door but, rattling the handle, finds it locked.

He is confused; many old manors shut up sections of the house if they are disused or in need of repair but this room is close to his own, clearly clean and well-used. It should be fine.

He lets his fingers drag on the door handle as he releases it. Dust. Jonathan looks confused and deeply concerned.

[Close up shot; side profile] Jonathan dashes to another door. [Close up shot] Dust on Jonathan’s fingers; another locked room.

A montage of frantic hands rattling dusty, locked doorknobs attached to various doors. [Aerial shot] Jonathan runs deeper into the castle, [various camera angles] finding more and more doors to numerous rooms locked tight. At first they were mostly clean; by the end Jonathan is reaching through thick cobwebs and layers of dust to try the doors.

Jonathan has double-backed on himself and stops. Light from a blue sky shines through the gap in the walls. Jonathan walks forward.

215     EXT. CASTLE DRACULA - BALCONY

[Aerial shot] The hall is leading him out onto a balcony. “…The view [is] magnificent…the castle is on the very edge of a terrible precipice…a thousand feet [down]. As far as the eye can see is a sea of green treetops, with occasionally a deep rift where there is a chasm. Here and there are silver threads where rivers wind in deep gorges through the forests.”

[Upper bust shot; close up] Jonathan slumps, pale-faced and shaking, against the balcony railing. The full horror of his situation finally sinks in.

He is a prisoner.

JONATHAN

[shakily] He's his own servants. ...that's actually quite impressive.

He does not like he finds his remark funny. He looks terrified.

AUTHOR'S NOTES

For Mina's birthday, I used the day and month of Florence Balcombe's birth. She was Bram Stoker's wife.

[knownangels]

movie

wc: 3.3k

CAMERA SHOT - EXT. - A FIELD FROM ABOVE. YELLOW-TINGED, PERHAPS EARLY SPRING OR LATE FALL. PERHAPS AMERICAN MIDWEST. 

CUT TO:

The CAMERA drops from far above. Then the CAMERA rises from a yellow-tinged grassy field like a shark from water. It moves forward, slowly, down a rolling hill. There are trees around the clearing; there is no wind, and they do not sway. But as it parts, the grass shakes and shivers. 

CAMERA SHOT - EXT. A BACK-FACING VIEW - SUN SETTING OVER HORIZON

The silhouettes of four INDIVIDUALS, of varying heights. They are following a self-made path through the grass. Most of the field lays behind them; based on the distance and the exhausted slouch of shoulders, they clearly been walking for some time. 

CAMERA SHOT - EXT. THE FIELD FROM BEHIND THEM - PEEKING FROM THE GRASS

The CAMERA winding through the field. It begins to move faster, parting blades of dry shrubbery. Faster. Faster. Blurry shapes in the distance: the INDIVIDUALS. The camera draws closer, jittery and snakelike, to the quartet. They don’t seem aware: their conversation and idle travel-chatter is increasingly (but barely) audible over the sound of wind, of grass parting. 

CUT TO:

A forwards-facing view of the INDIVIDUALS. From left to right: BENJI, who wears a worn leather jacket and scowl; LARK, whose roots need rebleached and seems the least tired of the four; TINO, sun-kissed and older than the others, but dewey and in good spirits; finally, XAVIER, who towers over the other three and is the only one carrying two backpacks.

Behind them, the grass flattens in a zig-zagging line. There is SOMETHING following the four men; none of them are aware. It moves closer. It moves faster. FASTER, FASTER, UNTIL IT IS RIGHT BEHIND THEM.

CUT TO:

CAMERA SHOT - CLOSE-UP OF XAVIER

There is a sound like hundreds of voices whispering. The noise grows louder as whatever cuts through the grass towards them, and seems to trail up XAVIER - right next to his ear. 

XAVIER (yelps, stumbles) Ah!

In tandem:

LARK (stopping) What? What?

TINO (also pauses) Y’alright son?

BENJI continues walking for several paces. Then he sighs heavily and turns back with his arms crossed. 

BENJI More drama? 

XAVIER swats at his ears repeatedly, hands protectively cupped around them for a moment. He heard the whispers: he seems to be the only one who did. Obviously perturbed, he glares up at BENJI, who is now snickering. 

XAVIER I heard - something touched me - 

He looks over his shoulder. The others peer around him, back towards the smooth field. The acres of grass sway in tandem; there is no longer a bent trail besides their own. 

BENJI (snorts) That hard up for it? Imagining the grass gettin’ fresh?

TINO (exasperated, ‘disappointed dad’ tone) Benji. 

XAVIER Fuck you-

LARK Can the fight wait, like, a half mile? We’re almost there-

BENJI Won’t make it if we stop every five seconds to hallucinate-

TINO (serious, final) Benji. 

CAMERA SHOT - EXT. - OVERVIEW OF THE QUARTET AS THEY BICKER. 

FADE OUT

FADE IN

CAMERA SHOT - EXT. TO INT. - A DILAPIDATED WAITING ROOM OF SORTS

A large double-door creaks open; stood in the low afternoon light, framed by the waning sun, is TINO. He fidgets shapelessly at his hip for a moment, and then the camera is flooded with brilliant white from a flashlight. 

CAMERA SHOT - INT. - FURTHER INTO THE WAITING ROOM.

Something in the darkness, hidden from the yellowy cone of light, sinks around a corner further into the shadows.

XAVIER stands slightly behind TINO and BENJI. He has one hand curled (protectively or requesting protection, unclear) around TINO’S arm. The other hovers near BENJI’S bicep. XAVIER glances down, realizes the proximity, and then snatches his hand closer to himself.

XAVIER Did you see that?

TINO Nope. What was it?

BENJI (muttering) Figment of his imagination, probably.

XAVIER flushes. It could be embarrassment or anger. 

XAVIER Would it kill you to-

BENJI (flatly) Yes.

TINO lowers the flashlight with a sigh. The darkness looms closer, but otherwise the only sound is the distant chirp of birds and rustling of nature. 

TINO Okay. Xavier, son, how about you go help Lark get everything sorted in the equipment tent? You know how he is with those posts - can’t get them anchored for nothin’.

CAMERA SHOT - EXT. COURTYARD - OVER TINO’S SHOULDER

In the vine-encrusted, time-worn courtyard just behind them, LARK pauses from his unpacking of their backpacks, straightens, and waves enthusiastically. He puts both fists on his hips and smiles. He is totally unaware of the tension. 

CAMERA SHOT - INT. WAITING ROOM - BENJI AND XAVIER GLARING

BENJI Right. Go run along then, yeah? Brought you to be the muscle, not jump n’ piss yourself at every sound.

XAVIER (heated, losing his temper) Tino invited me along to help with data collection, you didn’t bring anything other than your shitty fucking - hey! Go fuck yourself -!

As he’s talking, BENJI has lifted a hand between their faces. Fingers and thumb press together to make a mouth, which he opens and closes alongside XAVIER’S Boston drawl.

TINO (fully done babysitting/peacekeeping) Benji. Stop. Xavier. Go help.

XAVIER and BENJI stare at each other a moment longer; XAVIER glares, BENJI smirks victoriously. 

XAVIER (to TINO) Yes sir. (to BENJI: lifts his middle finger) 

TINO and BENJI watch him lope down the stairs to the building. Lark spreads his arms, gesturing as the taller man nears. Xavier waves his own, his venting about the situation at hand audible even across the distance. 

TINO (turns to BENJI) What in the hell has gotten into you lately?

BENJI (innocent, but he’s not even buying what he’s selling)   I don’t know what you mean, Ti. 

TINO You know, the rest of us don’t have even a hint of a problem with that boy. He’s been nothin’ but nice, and you -

BENJI (mood souring, expression shuttering) Pft. Nice.

TINO Listen. Job needs done. We don’t got a lot of time to hash this out now. (He pokes a finger into the shorter man’s chest) But you best not take that as a…sweeping’ it under the rug situation. 

BENJI What would we even sweep? 

He’s glaring over his shoulder, where LARK and XAVIER are animatedly chatting to each other. They look comfortable, close, and like they’re having the time of their lives - even as they just unpacking a variety of electronic equipment and other supplies. 

BENJI’S expression sours further. His brow is wrinkled in displeasure. 

BENJI Nothin’ to sweep. 

TINO (bad impression of a buzzer)

BENJI Aw, come off it - there’s nothin’, Ti, I don’t-

TINO (another buzzer noise, somehow worse) 

BENJI I’m not allowed to dislike the guy?

TINO (smiles, affirmative) Ding ding ding. Right answer. What’s your prize?

BENJI (taking the flashlight out of his hand grumpily) Five minutes alone. Let me do the survey. 

TINO shrugs and begins to walk backwards out the door, and down the stairs. He has a pep in his step; optimistic, maybe, of solving the apparent bad blood. He does a pause, brow furrowing, and then quickly turns and catches BENJI by the elbow. 

BENJI Wh-

TINO We’re talking about this once we get home, Benj. I’m not letting y’all fester whatever nastiness is going on. And I’m not (he pokes again, more firmly) letting it put anybody in danger. You hear me? 

BENJI pauses. Then, begrudgingly, but still in a mocking impression of XAVIER:

BENJI Yes sir.

CUT TO:

CAMERA SHOT - INT. - A DARK ROOM - CLOSE-UP OF XAVIER - HAND-CAM, GRITTY FILTER, UNSTEADY.

XAVIERadjusts the camera and the picture gains some clarity. He steps back, more of him coming into frame. He spreads his arms and strikes a pose. 

XAVIER What’s up guys, it’s me, Zac Brogans, and it’s another episode of Ghost -

LARK (out of frame) That’s not his name.

XAVIER …Zachary? 

LARK Naw, man. It’s Bagans. 

XAVIER (confidently) I think you’re wrong about that. 

He comes towards the camera again, and the frame swings. There is a brief shot up his nose and the sound of fingers tapping away at a screen. Then XAVIER pouts. 

LARK Google says I’m right, doesn’t it?

XAVIER (mockingly) Google says I was - (normal voice) Listen. I’ve been through a lot today. I’ve been bullied. Leave me alone.

LARK moves into frame. He glances at the phone in XAVIER’S hands. Their foreheads briefly knock together, and they share a quick grin. 

LARK (sobering) What’s up with that, by the way? 

XAVIER makes a noncommittal, distracting noise. It does not work.

LARK (unwilling to drop it) C’mon. You and Benji. You don’t have to be at each other’s throats all the time. 

XAVIER If he wasn’t such an asshole-

LARK He’s not- (pause) Well. He’s just kinda - (pause) Benji is - 

XAVIER An asshole.

LARK He cares, okay? And you care. Tino does. I do! So if something is going on - (another awkward pause) We can talk about -

XAVIER drops the camera back onto the surface he’d propped it against. He slaps his hands over his ears.

LARK (exasperated) I don’t mean that -

XAVIER (shouting) GOOD. I AM GOING TO GO SET UP THE REST OF THE CAMERAS. AND I AM NOT GOING TO THINK ABOUT ANYTHING RELATED TO-

LONG PAUSE. WIND WHISTLES THROUGH THE EMPTY ROOM WITH THEM. 

XAVIER AUGH. FUCK YOU I THOUGHT ABOUT IT.

LARK barely muffles his laughter as XAVIER flees, a variety of microphones, EMF readers, and handheld video cameras in his arms. 

CUT TO:

CAMERA SHOT - INT. - A DARK HALLWAY - CLOSE-UP OF XAVIER - HE IS RUNNING

XAVIER Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. 

Behind him, as he runs, doors on either side of the hallway SLAM open and closed. The noise is deafening; XAVIER winces against it as he runs. And then, skidding, he stops outside a door with some light spilling from its window. He darts inside. He slams the door and leans against it, the camera hovering near his chin. It is trembling, as if XAVIER’S hands are, too. 

XAVIER What the fuck-

DISEMBODIED VOICE RUN. 

XAVIER screams. He throws himself to the side. 

CAMERA SHOT - INT. - A ROOM LIT BY A SINGLE CANDLE

Prone and panting, XAVIER scrabbles backward across the ground as a figure strides out of the darkness. The CAMERA, his phone, has been flung in his terror. An angled frame of the room shows this confrontation occurring upside-down. 

THE FIGURE draws closer. The doors slamming outside have stopped; the only sound is XAVIER’S exhausted wheezing. He jumps to his feet, hands outstretched. He seems to be brandishing something in his left - a crucifix.

FIGURE/DISEMBODIED VOICE Bit presumptuous, yeah?

XAVIER goes still, then snarls. 

XAVIER Jesus! 

He raises a fist, clenches it, waves it mid-air between then. Then, as if it takes a tremendous amount of willpower, lowers it to his side. 

XAVIER (absolutely exasperated) Jesus. You get off on that or something?

BENJI drifts out from the shadows. He is smirking, much too proud of himself for the scare. 

BENJI Hm?

XAVIER I said - God, you are such an asshole. I said do you get off on that? Messing with me for no reason?

CAMERA SHOT - XAVIER’S ANNOYED, YET STILL STARTLED - FROWN, FRAMED IN THE SPACE BETWEEN BENJI’S COCKED HIP AND ELBOW. 

BENJI immaturely pumps his own fist in the air, sneering. 

BENJI Awful concerned about the circumstances of my gettin’ off, huh? Freak.

XAVIER You - oh, man. We really don’t have time for this. Didn’t you hear that shit?

BENJI Mate, I’ve been setting up for the past hour. 

He taps a pair of headphones around his ears. They’re connected to a blinking microphone in the corner of the room.

BENJI Haven’t heard nothin’ but this.

XAVIER This is — we’ve been here an hour? 

BENJI stares at him incredulously. 

BENJI Why the fuck would Tino send you off on your own if you can’t handle a little asylum over-nighter? This is basic shit, mate. I thought you had some experience. (scoffs) Lark didn’t say you were a total rookie. 

XAVIER grits his teeth. He points at BENJI. His finger shakes. He is clearly doing everything in his power to control his temper. 

XAVIER I just got chased by something. And then scared by you. And now you’re being — I can’t - you are so - 

BENJI rolls his eyes. He moves across the room towards XAVIER’S discarded phone and picks it up to hand over. Then he squeezes past the taller man, bodily moving hims away from the doorframe. 

XAVIER Don’t fucking-

BENJI (exasperated, but edgy; he is close to a temper snap too) Would you cool off? Fuckin’ hell, man. Go finish your set up. 

BENJI leaves the room with a cheeky two-finger salute over his shoulder. He hesitates in the hallway, unbeknownst to XAVIER, who has turned his back to assess the new crack in his phone screen. He seems like he wants to say something. But then he turns and disappears in the direction XAVIER had initially fled. 

CUT TO:

CAMERA SHOT - INT. - A LARGE, DARK AND EMPTY CAFETERIA 

On the southern wall of the tiled floor, a set of bars separates the kitchen area of the cafeteria to the rest of the space. There are a variety of tables and chairs, dusty and askew from the years of disuse, scattered around. On one of them, closet to the jail-like barrier, rests a stack of equipment. A mic pack, a handful of spare batteries, and a phone. It is face-down, its case covered with a variety of fading band stickers. It rings and rings; a looping stanza of string-heavy music from a classical Japanese orchestral piece.

LARK sits on the other side of the bars, trapped in the small kitchen space. He has both hands covering his ears, his face twisted in a terrified, angry grimace. 

LARK SHUT UP. SHUT UP!

The phone’s tune increases in volume.

VOICE Lark? 

LARK No. Shut up- 

He avoids eye contact with the ringing phone. He needs to use it to call for help — although he’s small, there is no way he can squeeze through the bars. 

VOICE (coming closer) Lark?

BENJI and TINO round the corner. They stand shoulder-to-shoulder, looking terrified as well. BENJI’S hair is a mess;  TINO is covered in a layer of grime and soot. 

LARK (sobbing with relief) Oh. Fuck. It’s — oh fuck, get me out of here. 

TINO darts towards the bars, fingers wrapping around them. He shakes, testing the resistance. 

LARK Turn the phone off, I can’t - 

BENJI Phone? 

TINO Has he been in here all night - ? Alone? I thought you checked on him, Benji.

BENJI (defensive) I did! Half past two, like you asked. 

TINO That was three hours ago! What were you thinkin’? You saw the readings - you heard what Xavier said about the boiler room-

BENJI (scoffing) Yeah, and he’s been seein’ things all night. Just green, Tino. He’s just a fuckin’ coward and green- 

TINO whirls around. He looks angry now, but his eyes shine with a bit of genuine fear. BENJI takes a step back, shocked to see that particular display of emotion. TINO is not green. TINO taught them what they know - he is usually unflappable, a constant calm even when shit hits the proverbial fan. 

TINO (voice shaking, loud but not yet yelling) He ain’t green. And you ain’t - (pause) 

BENJI (pause, then cold) Ain’t what, Ti? 

TINO Ain’t actin’ right, lately. Now you pack up whatever the hells goin’ on in your head  and help me get Lark outta here. Look at ‘em. Hang it up, Benji.

LARK is trying to put a brave face on, witness to this rare almost-fight between the two. But there are clearly drying tracks of tears down his cheeks. TINO moves away, down the hall.

BENJI crosses over to the table to collect LARK’S phone. He taps at the screen repeatedly. 

BENJI Here, mate, let’s get some music playin’ while we look for the keys or another way outta there, yeah? Get you right and sorted, but at least some good tunes will distract you -  (he frowns, pauses) The hell, Lark? How long’s your phone been dead for? 

LARK stares up at him through the bars. He looks at Tino. He looks at the phone. Then the tears start freely again, his head hanging to hide their intensity. 

LARK It was ringing - it was my mom’s ringtone - it was ringing, Benj. It was. I’m not hearing things. I swear. 

BENJI (disturbed, trying not to show it) Okay, man. Okay. I har you. I believe you Lark, okay?

BENJI looks up at TINO, who has reappeared with a pair of bolt cutters. 

BENJI Xavier’s still not checked in? 

TINO (intensely worried, now) No. Fuck, no. 

CUT TO:

CAMERA SHOT - INT. - AN ABANDONED LIBRARY - CLOSE-UP OF XAVIER - HAND-CAM, GRITTY FILTER, UNSTEADY.

XAVIER Ok, now check this out- 

He jogs backwards, arms out for balance. Tongue stuck out in concentration, XAVIER does a little wiggle to assess the space he takes up. And then he tucks his long legs and leaps in the air, arms pinwheeling as he attempts a jumping backflip. Out of frame, a variety of paranormal equipment begins beeping. XAVIER doesn’t hear, initially - he is busy recovering from the failed attempt, rubbing his sore hip.

FOOTSTEPS slowly walk across the room; they can be heard above XAVIER’S petulant whining, but their source unseen. 

XAVIER Ow. That - ow. 

VOICE (echoing, multilayered) Making a movie? 

XAVIER freezes. Palms flat to the ground, his fear-widened eyes go even bigger as the footsteps draw closer. He’s looking off to the side, pupils growing larger and larger in the dim night vision as something the CAMERA cannot see moves closer. 

Finally, a foot pads into frame. It is just sinew and muscle, dripping a wet puddle where it stands. XAVIER’S terrified eyes draw upwards. 

VOICE (slowly becoming more corporeal as it speaks) I love movies. And you already set up all the shots for me. All this fancy equipment. 

XAVIER whimpers in pure terror, his arms drawing closer to his body like he’s getting ready to run again. His face goes slack with panic: he can’t move.

VOICE Let’s go find your friends, though. We have the star -

A similarly wet, stripped arm floats into frame; the VOICE points a long, bony finger in XAVIER’S direction. 

VOICE ... and the crew.

The arm folds, making a disgusting squelching sound as the VOICE ostensibly presses a hand to its raw chest. 

VOICE Now we just need the supporting cast.

CUT TO:

CAMERA SHOT - INT. - SECURITY CAMERA IN THE CAFETERIA - TOP-DOWN VIEW

TINO We know there are some restless spirits here, son, there’s bound to be some activity. 

BENJI and TINO help LARK to his feet. The bars have been cut - and, with their combined strength - pried apart to free the terrified man. 

LARK (near hysteric) No - no. It’s something else. We have to find Xavier-

ALL THREE MEN slap hands to their ears as a piercing, awful noise that rises from the bowels of the old building. It seems to come from the walls, below them, and deeper into the depths all at once. It’s the sound of a thousand or two thousand or ten thousand machines all jamming at once, gears and pipes bursting, not an explosion but worse.

VOICE (off camera, all around, echoing) Beat you to it, cutie.

CAMERA SHOT - INT. - THE CAFETERIA - CLOSE-UP OF LARK 

The CAMERA glitches and goes black.

[cass1x1]

ok imm sorry but the “ i only have eyes for you. ” meme is so elogan coded 👀

@carlyraejcpsen

send in     “ i only have eyes for you. “     for five times where the sender was caught staring in admiration/affection at the receiver, by the receiver.     ( scenarios can vary! examples include: the receiver delivering a fierce passionate speech to encourage people to do something, the receiver walking into a room while dressed glamorously, the receiver walking into a room while dressed NOT glamorously, literally ANYTHING! )

int. tattoo shop; afternoon

Of all the habits Ella had formed over her years, the hardest to shake was the need to be busy. It seemed ,to her, despite what her friends often said, that there was no harm in wanting to be busy. That it was good, in fact, to want to be productive. She understood that they were trying to help, but she also couldn't sit idly by. That ability had passed her by.

So while she waited for Logan to finish up his appointment, she had to find something to do. It wouldn't do for her to offer help. And Beyonce, the cat, was perfectly content to nap in the window. So what was she to do? Well, for starter, she tidied, putting all the magazines left out in a pretty little display. She found the glass cleaner and wiped down the display case where they sold earrings. And then, having helped herself to the supply closet, she swept. None of it was necessary--Logan and his fellow artists kept a perfectly nice, clean shop--but she liked the act of it all. And she liked to think that, in exchange for seeing her so late, Ella could save him some time at closing.

The trouble was that he kept a tidy shop, in fact. Ella ran out of things to do rather quickly. She would have to sit back down. Perhaps read one of the magazines she'd set up so nicely. There was one that said it had recipes for watermelon, so she was just about to do that when there was a movement in the corner of her eye. She made an involuntary sound, covering her mouth immediately so it didn't sound like a scream.

Logan laughed, pushing himself up off the wall to approach her. "You okay there?"

Ella put her hand on her heart. "Yes, sorry. You startled me. How long were you there?"

"Did you realize you were singing?" he asked. That wasn't an answer to her question, but even more than that, it surprised her. She frowned--had she been singing?

"No." A hot blush rose on her cheeks. "I'm so sorry. Did I dist--"

"You don't have to apologize. It was--it reminded me of before."

She forced herself to hold his gaze. Logan had always had such sharp eyes; Ella couldn't help but feel nervous under them. "I'm glad, then" she said.

ii. ext. high line park; sunset

There was something magical about being out late on a summer evening. The sun set slowly and left the sky twinged gold for a long time. Ella always felt extra warm and glowing at that hour. But today, she was especially enchanted.

Ella hadn't known where Logan was taking her; only that he'd said it would be outside. The park was stunning: a long, raised, paved trail with native plants along each side. From different spots, she could see out over the city. She could watch the water over the Hudson river. Everywhere she stopped, there was something magical to see.

She stopped at one of the little outcroppings and leaned against the rail. The sun left a trail of golden light over the water, and if she looked hard, she could see the outline of boats out towards New Jersey. "Wow," she gasped, stepping back to turn her attention back to Logan. "It's so beautiful."

When her eyes met Logan's, there was an intensity to them that threw her off-balance. He looked like he was looking through her, trying to find something. Despite wanting to thank him, Ella couldn't hold that gaze; she turned away to look back out over the park. "Sorry," he said softly. "I was just..." He didn't finish the sentence.

Ella turned back to him. Logan looked like his usual self--this new usual self that she was still getting used to, a little warier, a little less silly. A little more handsome than she remembered. Her cheeks warmed at that. She hoped he assumed it was about the park. "No, it's fine, I'm sorry," she answered, more as a reflex than anything else. "I--I just wanted to thank you for bringing me here."

"Yeah," he said, looking away this time. "It's pretty great, huh?"

iii. ext. apartment; morning

Ella hadn't dressed up for Logan to come over. No, that would be silly. But she was wearing her favorite dress because today was a good day and when she woke up, she felt drawn to it. No matter how her roommate had teased her, said that Logan would enjoy seeing her in this color, Ella brushed it off. He wasn't--he wouldn't--it wasn't like that. Even if sometimes she thought about it being like that, those were just the kinds of thoughts that were normal to have about so old a friend. Surely, that was it.

Still, when she noticed him waiting on the stoop of her building, she found it was hard to look him in the eye. Ella had always had a hard time with that; she was more shy than she expected to be. Instead, she froze, half-way down the steps. Rather than meet his gaze, she dug her phone out of her bag and reviewed their plans for the day. Museum tickets? Check. Lunch spot? Picked out. Her drawings? Yes, she had them, even if she was nervous to share them.

Once she'd looked over everything, and couldn't think of any other reason to delay, and didn't want to make him late, she turned up, immediately caught in his gaze. He'd been watching, which she'd suspected from the way she'd felt eyes on her. Ella straightened, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear and wishing maybe she had dressed up for him, so that she would be worth looking at.

"You look great," Logan said, as if he'd read her thoughts.

Her stomach dropped-oh, god, had she said any of that out loud? "Oh, I...thank you. Her voice was uneasy. Would it be weird if she asked if she'd spoken aloud?

If he was reading her mind, he was doing a very good job of it, by the way he laughed, offering her his hand like he was going to escort her down the steps. "I don't mean to be weird, but I wanted you to know why I was staring. You look great, is all."

Ella took his hand. She took the last few steps and, when she got to the sidewalk, she turned up to look at him. He wasn't joking or teasing her--not that he would joke about something like that--just sincerely, openly staring. "You--" She hated how nervous her voice came out. This wasn't like that and she wished her roommate hadn't said anything because now the idea was in her head. She cleared her throat and smiled. Ella was good at putting on a smile. "You look quite handsome, yourself." This time, she sounded more normal, thankfully. More like herself. "That color is nice on you."

Logan ducked his head. Like her, he was better at giving a compliment than taking one. At least that had stayed the same between them. "Shall we?"

"Yes."

iv. int. animal shelter; evening

After all the food was gone, after all the guests had left and the lucky dogs adopted off, there was just this: the remaining trash on the floor, and the donation box to be counted up. Several other volunteers had offered to handle the trash, and left Ella and Logan with the lock boxes. Once she'd offered--five or six times--for him to go home, she gave in and accepted his offer to help. It was late, and everyone was exhausted, her included. If he helped, maybe they could all get home a little faster.

They'd divided the bills up, so it was just a matter of counting and tallying. Ella had worked a dozen jobs where she opened and closed; she could make quick work of this. And, as far as she knew, Logan could too. But when she glanced up from her count, Logan still had his pile in his hand. His eyes seemed fixed on her hands, focus entirely on her.

He seemed surprised when she made a sound. His eyes slid up, from her hands to her face. There they settled, a warm, soft gaze holding onto her. "Did, uh, did I do something wrong? Or make a mistake?" she asked.

"No," Logan said immediately. And then, chagrined, "I don't think so. I wasn't listening." Ella smiled, writing her tally down before putting her hand out. Logan shook his head and, with one last flick of his eyes, began his own count.

While he worked, Ella watched him. The smooth movement of his hands, the sound of him counting under his breath. The way his eyes flicked up to catch hers every few minutes. It was fascinating. She wondered if, perhaps, this was what distracted him in the first place.

v. ext. restaurant; evening

Once she'd gotten used to the idea, dating had not been so hard for her. She was naturally social, and she liked going out. She'd tried speed dating, tried tinder, tried all sorts of options, and all of them had felt effortless. Ella was good enough at that sort of thing that she'd never had a bad date, but she'd never gotten the hang of flirting. She said precisely what she thought, and in precisely the simple way that she thought them. She had no skill for pretty words.

Logan, on the other hand? Well, he just couldn't seem to help himself. He made it seem so easy, with his casual words and his playful looks and his laugh that rumbled through her entire body. Ella felt like should barely keep up with him. Her cheeks hurt from laughing and blushing. She felt giddy and light, tipsy off of the easy conversation and smiles.

By the time they left, the sun had fully set, and the sky was crisp. There weren't many visible stars--Ella was still getting used to that--but the lights from the skyscrapers never failed to dazzle her in their own way. Ella wasn't much for technology. If she wanted to mark this moment, she would need to do it on memory. So she did. She took everything in--the lights, the sky, the sounds from the restaurant, the full feeling, and, of course, Logan--and then she closed her eyes. With them closed, she did her best to memorize what she'd seen and heard and felt, so that if she wanted it, she could pull it back up and relive how she felt in this moment.

When her eyes finally relaxed and opened, they found Logan staring at her with a particularly amused smile. Ella smiled back instinctively. This time, she didn't have to ask what he was staring at. He offered the answer on his own. "I can't believe you're here with me," he said, like she had given him some wonderful gift.

That was silly, of course. He had taken her out on a date--a perfect one, at that. All she'd done was try and keep up. But she kept her smile anyway, and slid her hands into his, squeezing tight. As though she could convince him of that fact through grip strength alone. "I can't imagine anything better," she told him, hoping that covered what her hands could not. He laughed, and dropped one hand so he could hold the other while they walked toward the park.

[vatt-world]

hi

SCENE 1 – INT. ANITA’S APARTMENT – NIGHT A tiny, cluttered studio. Scripts are spread across the floor, Post-its cling to the wall in color-coded chaos. Sheet music is scribbled with red ink.

Anita, 29, intense but burnt out, presses piano keys mechanically. Nothing lands.

She exhales. Closes the piano.

ANITA (to herself) Come on. Just one chorus that works.

She crumples a page. Shoots it into the trash. Misses.

She opens her phone and records a voice memo.

ANITA (V.O.) Memo to self: Act One—rewrite “Running Again.” Chorus isn’t working. Oh—and stop doubting yourself. (sarcastic) Seriously. That’s helpful.

Ping. A text from JACK (Ex): "Still ignoring me? I deserve an answer."

She stares. Deletes it.

SCENE 2 – INT. DANCE STUDIO – DAY A small class of kids on Zoom follows Anita through a fast routine.

ANITA And five-six-seven—again!

Marcus, 40s, smug and checked-out, leans against the door. After class, he approaches.

MARCUS (on phone) Walk-ins just paid cash. You’ll cover Sasha’s classes again this week, right?

ANITA That’s… the third week in a row.

MARCUS (on phone) You’re good with the kids. Smile more, Anita. You’ll get better tips.

He walks off.

Anita clenches her jaw. A student taps her leg. She smiles, but the exhaustion is real.

SCENE 3 – EXT. SIDEWALK – EVENING Anita exits the studio. Her tote bag is overstuffed with notebooks. She walks briskly, nearly colliding with—

BILL, 30, unshaven, magnetic, a bit too charming. He stumbles backward.

BILL Whoa—sorry! Hey! You dropped this.

He holds up a small laminated card.

ANITA (pats bag) Oh wow. That’s my ID.

ANITA (beat) I didn’t even know I dropped it. Thanks.

BILL No problem. Hey, I’m looking for Jane’s Carousel?

ANITA That’s… not far. I can tell you, or—

She hesitates. Then gestures.

ANITA (CONT’D) I’ll show you. If you want.

Bill smiles. Anita second-guesses herself.

ANITA (CONT’D) Or I can tell you. I can show you or tell you. Up to you. I don't care. Either way. It'd be better if I show you, I think.

BILL Hope I'm not pulling you from anything.

ANITA No.

They start walking.

BILL I'm Bill, by the way.

ANITA Anita.

BILL Nice to meet you, Anita.

ANITA Nice.

BILL Is it always this hot?

ANITA This time of year.

Anita’s ex-boyfriend calls again. She sees the name, doesn’t answer. It goes to voicemail.

SCENE 4 – EXT. WATERFRONT PROMENADE – TWILIGHT They walk. Bill snaps a photo of the skyline.

BILL It’s really pretty down here.

He flips his phone to selfie mode.

BILL (CONT’D) Your turn. Be iconic.

ANITA Iconic? I’m more… “awkward standing girl #2.”

She twirls. He snaps the photo mid-spin.

BILL (CONT’D) Boom.

They sit on a nearby bench. Laughter gives way to quiet.

SCENE 5 – EXT. COFFEE STAND – LATER Bill and Anita wait for drinks. She laughs as he scrolls TikTok dance fails.

BILL So… it’s Friday. Plans?

ANITA Going to the movies. With friends.

BILL Nice. Which one?

ANITA Avengers. I love it.

BILL Didn’t know it was back in theaters.

ANITA It’s a re-release.

BILL Got a favorite movie?

ANITA (grinning) I���m not saying.

BILL Come on, I won’t judge.

She pulls up a poster on her phone and shows it.

ANITA Dear John.

BILL You’re joking.

ANITA Nope.

BILL Alright.

She checks her phone. Her face shifts.

ANITA I’m late. Gotta run. Teaching again tonight.

SCENE 6 – INT. ANITA’S APARTMENT – NIGHT Anita sits on the floor, laptop open. She FaceTimes her best friend, MIRA (30s, opinionated, warm), who’s mid-makeup routine.

MIRA You look… like someone who hasn’t seen the sun in 9 days.

ANITA I’m writing. Or trying to.

MIRA What’s the hold-up?

ANITA The chorus still sucks. The story’s strong, but I keep second-guessing the emotional beats. (beat) Also, I met this guy. Kind of annoying. Kind of charming. The producer who came to the showcase last year finally responded. Said, ‘Send me something tight.’

Anita smirks. Glances at the crumpled lyrics pile beside her.

SCENE 7 – EXT. FERRY TERMINAL – SUNSET Anita waits. Her phone’s dead. She frowns at the schedule.

BILL (O.S.) Missed it?

He appears, holding a ridiculous vintage hat.

ANITA You again. Yeah. Coming from a lesson I was teaching at the studio. Now dead phone. No clue when it’s coming.

Bill checks his phone.

BILL Next one's in an hour.

ANITA That hat is… something else.

BILL Hey, it’s for an audition. Sixties thing. I kind of love it.

She leans in, adjusts the brim with both hands.

ANITA It was crooked. That’s better. (beat) I’ve been writing a musical. That hat could work.

BILL What’s it about?

ANITA It’s kind of… about my mom. Sort of. She performed in community theater. Used art to survive.

BILL That’s beautiful. What's the main character want?

ANITA To make sense of her life. Through songs. Through travel. Through… something bigger than what she was given.

ANITA (CONT’D) I’ve been writing this musical for years. I just… don’t know if I can pull it off.

BILL (CONT’D) Can I read it? Your script?

ANITA Maybe. If you promise not to fix it.

BILL No promises.

She spots something.

ANITA Wait—are those…?

BILL Yep. Bought for an audition.

ANITA Put them on.

BILL Right now?

He puts them on.

ANITA Let’s film this for TikTok. Something fun.

BILL Now your turn.

Anita’s ex-boyfriend calls again. She sees the name, doesn’t answer. It goes to voicemail.

SCENE 8 – INT. STUDIO – NIGHT Anita dances alone. Mirror reflects her hesitance. She stops, checks the time.

BILL (O.S.) Knock knock.

He enters, holding her script.

BILL (CONT’D) I read the script. It’s raw. Messy. Personal. Beautiful.

ANITA Yeah?

BILL Yeah. As the lead character travels the world, maybe add some foreign language? The mom’s lullaby—what if it starts in English, then slides into Hindi?

ANITA I don’t speak it fluently.

BILL I can help. Just… small phrases.

She hesitates.

ANITA Okay. But only if it feels real.

He nods. They stand in front of the mirror.

SCENE 9 – INT. STUDIO OFFICE – NEXT MORNING Anita approaches Marcus with her check stub.

ANITA This doesn’t cover all my classes.

MARCUS It’s what I can offer right now. Take it or leave it.

She takes a breath—then walks straight past him.

INT. STUDIO – MOMENTS LATER Bill walks in. Sees Anita, furious. She hands him the stub.

ANITA I’m not doing this again. Three weeks. Subbing for other teachers. Doubling classes. I get paid 100 dollars.

BILL Want me to talk to him?

ANITA Ok. He’s at the studio. Probably counting cash from walk-ins.

Bill storms off into the studio.

INT. STUDIO – CONTINUOUS Bill confronts Marcus. After a heated discussion, Marcus agrees to a raise.

BILL He agreed to a raise.

ANITA You didn’t have to.

BILL I had to.

SCENE 10 – INT. CAFE – DAY Anita and Bill sit at a corner table, laptop open between them.

ANITA Scene four—her monologue at the train station—it’s too abstract.

BILL Make it about the moment she decides not to leave.

ANITA She wants something more. Not escape. Just… meaning.

BILL Like you?

ANITA Exactly.

He leans in.

BILL You’re not writing her. You’re writing you.

She leans back.

ANITA Don’t psychoanalyze me, musical boy.

They laugh.

Anita’s phone buzzes. Text from Producer: "Let’s talk. I’m interested."

She stares at it, breath caught.

ANITA (V.O.) This might be it.

SCENE 11 – INT. PRODUCER’S OFFICE – DAY A sleek, minimalist office. Anita sits nervously across from the Producer (50s, sharp, no-nonsense), clutching a marked-up draft.

PRODUCER (on phone) I’ve been following your project. The potential’s there. It’s bold. Intimate.

ANITA It’s about finding identity. Through art. Through leaving home. Through staying connected to something lost.

PRODUCER (on phone) Right. But I need a hook. Something commercial. Something “big.”

He taps the script.

PRODUCER (CONT’D) (on phone) The writing? Solid. But the structure—loose. keep working on it

SCENE 12 – INT. ANITA’S APARTMENT – NIGHT Anita sits on the floor, staring at her phone. Draft pages surround her like fallen leaves.

A knock. It’s Bill, holding two paper bags.

BILL You missed dinner. I brought dumplings. And… dumpling-shaped cookies?

He sits across from her.

ANITA The producer wants to fund it.

BILL That’s amazing!

ANITA If I drop you.

Beat.

BILL Oh.

ANITA I said no. But… it shook me. I don’t know how to protect this show.

BILL We protect it together.

They sit in quiet solidarity. She pulls a Post-it off the wall, hands it to him. It reads: “Scene 6 – Rewrite.”

ANITA Let’s start here.

BILL Opening monologue: starts too vague. Needs stakes.

ANITA How do we show she has something to lose?

BILL What do you feel like you’re risking?

Anita considers this, surprised.

ANITA Being forgotten. Like my mom. She sang her heart out to five people and no spotlight.

BILL Then let’s write that.

She smiles, emotional. Anita’s ex-boyfriend calls again. She looks at the phone. Lets it ring. No hesitation this time.

INT. STUDIO – EVENING Anita’s phone vibrates again. Jack. She stares at it, frozen.

BILL Pick it up.

ANITA I can’t. He’s my ex. He’s going to mess up everything… the musical, my head—everything.

BILL If you don’t pick it up… he’s not going to stop calling.

A long beat. Anita finally answers.

ANITA (sighs) Hello?

JACK (V.O.) Honey. Honey, are you okay?

ANITA I’m fine.

JACK (V.O.) I called the FBI,—hell, I hired a private investigator.

ANITA Jack, come on. I’m fine. Just… give me a break.

JACK (V.O.) I thought you were dead or kidnapped!

ANITA We're over. It’s done. You have to understand that.

JACK (V.O.) No, we’re working this out. Right now. I enrolled in a program, I gave up drinking.

ANITA God, shut up. It doesn’t even matter anymore. (beat) You know why? Because I’m with someone.

JACK (V.O.) You’re what?

ANITA I’m with someone. And he thinks I’m beautiful.

JACK (V.O.) You’re with a guy? Don’t do this.

ANITA He’s standing right here.

JACK (V.O.) Put him on the phone.

ANITA Fine. You want to talk to him? Here. (she holds out the phone to Bill) Please. Just say something.

BILL I’m not talking to your ex-boyfriend.

ANITA Please. Anything.

Bill takes the phone reluctantly.

BILL Hello?

JACK (V.O.) Who the hell are you, huh?

BILL Look, man, I’m just—

JACK (V.O.) If you so much as touched her—I swear I’ll come over there with a shotgun. She’s mine. She will always be mine!

BILL You need to back off.

JACK (V.O.) Put her back on. Now.

ANITA Hello?

JACK (V.O.) I’m driving to your place right now. I’m gonna burn every last piece of your crap.

ANITA Oh god…

BILL What did he say?

ANITA He’s going to my house. To burn my stuff. (tearful) He’ll destroy pictures of my grandmother.

BILL Okay. Let me handle it.

SCENE 23 – EXT. PARK – SUNSET They sit on a bench surrounded by scripts and coffee cups. A soft golden hour.

ANITA We’re getting closer. The show feels like… it’s breathing now.

BILL It’s you. You gave it lungs.

ANITA It’s us.

He looks at her. Something hangs between them.

BILL Can I ask something stupid?

ANITA Please. I’ve done interpretive scarf mime today. No judgment.

BILL Do you ever imagine… what happens after? When the lights go down?

ANITA Sometimes. (beat) But I’m trying to stay here. In the middle of it.

She taps his notepad.

ANITA (CONT’D) We’re building something. Let’s get it right.

They smile—unspoken, growing connection.

SCENE 24 – INT. STUDIO – EARLY EVENING Anita walks in with new props—fabric swatches, a worn tambourine, and a folded vision board.

Bill’s tinkering with a lighting console.

ANITA Look what I found—my mom’s tambourine. Glitter and all.

She shakes it. It jingles.

BILL (laughs) It belongs in Act One. The mother’s memory scene.

ANITA Exactly.

She lays out fabric ideas. Bill doesn’t look up.

BILL I’ve been thinking… we should scale bigger. LED screens, transitions. Make it feel epic.

ANITA We don’t need that. The show’s intimate.

BILL Sure, but small doesn’t mean cheap. We want impact, right?

ANITA Impact doesn’t mean spectacle. It means truth.

Tension grows.

BILL Why won’t you even try something new?

ANITA Because it’s not a gimmick. It’s my story.

A beat.

BILL Maybe we’re not on the same team.

ANITA (quiet but firm) Maybe we’re not.

A beat. Anita turns away… then stops.

Bill Wait. Let me say something.

ANITA Go ahead.

Bill At first, I didn’t care. I just needed something.

ANITA So why now?

Bill Because I saw you care. I saw your work. And I started to care too. But I got scared.

ANITA Of what?

Bill Everything. Rent. Money. My dad. If I made this work… maybe it’d fix things.

He steps closer, unsure.

ANITA I don’t know… Show me you really care.

(continued in next message due to length)

(continued from previous message)

SCENE 25 – INT. TATTOO SHOP – NIGHT Bill, drunk and determined, stumbles in.

TATTOO ARTIST You sure about this?

BILL Yeah. It matters.

He holds up a crumpled napkin: “The Music Is the Map.”

TATTOO ARTIST Left tricep it is.

As the machine buzzes, Bill closes his eyes.

BILL (V.O.) This is it. Show her I care. Show her I mean it.

SCENE 26 – INT. STUDIO – DAY Anita tunes the keyboard. Bill enters, arm bandaged under his sleeve.

BILL Hey.

She turns. Notices his wince.

ANITA What did you do?

He pulls up his sleeve. Reveals the raw tattoo.

BILL To prove I care.

She stares.

ANITA You got the title… tattooed?

BILL I was drunk. But it felt right.

ANITA It’s kind of… a mess.

BILL I know. But the feeling was real.

She touches the edge of the bandage, then his hand.

ANITA Okay. Let’s fix it. The tattoo. The show. Everything.

They sit side-by-side again.

SCENE 27 – INT. STUDIO – NIGHT A montage:

Anita scribbling lyrics furiously

Bill coordinating costume fittings

Tech rehearsal mishaps

Anita directing cast with clear vision

Bill in the background, following her lead

This time—she's steering the ship.

ANITA (V.O.) I used to think if I told the story right, it would heal something. Now I just want it to land true.

The stage lights flicker on. Everything is almost ready.

SCENE 28 – INT. ANITA’S BEDROOM – NIGHT Anita lies awake. The phone buzzes.

TEXT FROM PRODUCER: “London offer still open. Solo billing. Clean slate. You’re ready.”

She stares at it, heart pounding. Then, she writes a message:

ANITA (TEXTING): “I told the story right. That was always the goal. I’m not going alone.”

She hits send.

SCENE 21 – INT. STUDIO – DRESS REHEARSAL – NIGHT The studio buzzes with final preparations. Costumes everywhere. Stage lights flicker on.

Anita emerges wearing a vintage dress and an oversized wig.

ANITA Okay, this is… a lot.

She twirls. Reaches for the wig. It won’t budge.

ANITA (CONT’D) Wait—it’s stuck. Like, seriously stuck.

BILL Here—let me—

ANITA Be gentle. That’s my scalp.

He gently tries to untwist it. They laugh.

BILL Okay, on three—one, two—

POP! The wig flies off. Lands on the lighting board. Lights flicker.

ANITA Oh my god.

BILL You broke the light with your head.

ANITA And you wore that boa last week. So we’re even.

They collapse into laughter.

ANITA (CONT’D) Let’s get back to work. Curtain’s coming.

ANITA (CONT’D) Wait—can I see that?

INT. STUDIO – LATER ANITA He wants to bring it to London. But… he doesn’t think you should be part of it.

Bill freezes.

Bill What? Why?

ANITA He says the musical needs a different creative direction. “The producer ran with it. I didn’t want to lose the momentum.” It’s a marketability issue.he says Bill So after everything, they want to cut me out?

ANITA I’ll talk to him. I’m not okay with it either.

Bill (voice cracking) We’ve put everything into this. All of ourselves. And now I get sidelined?

ANITA Bill, I swear—this isn’t over. You matter. I’m going to fight for you.

Bill Will they even listen to you? Or has it already been decided?

She doesn’t answer.

Bill (CONT'D) I gave this everything I had. If they take it away… what’s left?

ANITA (quietly) We’ll figure it out.

INT. ANITA’S BEDROOM – NIGHT Anita sits on the edge of her bed, phone to her ear. Her notebook is untouched beside her.

ANITA (into phone) I tried. But the producer isn’t listening. He wants to replace you.

INT. COFFEE SHOP – DAY – FEW WEEKS LATER Anita, more composed, speaks into her phone.

ANITA Hey… how’s it going? I’m back in the city.

Bill (V.O.) So you just erased me? After everything?

SCENE 25 – EXT. NYC STREET – DAY A few days later. Anita exits a coffee shop, scripts under her arm.

Bill spots her across the street.

BILL Hey. Didn’t expect to see you so soon.

ANITA London didn’t feel right. I didn’t end up going.

BILL I’ve been rewriting. A new show. My own story this time. But… I’m stuck.

ANITA What do you need?

BILL Perspective. Your voice in the room.

She studies him, wary but open. He offers her a script. She takes it.

SCENE 26 – INT. STUDIO – DAY Anita and Bill sit side-by-side again—coffee cups, notebooks, and open laptops between them. But this time, Anita takes the lead.

ANITA Act One—we open with your first audition. The failure. The sweat. That weird hat.

BILL Bold choice.

ANITA We show the fear. The desperation. Not just “I want to perform,” but “I need to be heard.”

BILL And what about you?

ANITA I’m not writing myself in. Not this time. But you’ll know it’s me in the details.

She taps a Post-it: “Speak what you’re afraid to say.”

INT. STUDIO – LATER Bill pulls out a ridiculous outfit: glitter blazer, feather boa, cowboy hat.

BILL (defensive) This is for the opening monologue. And I would be wearing—

ANITA Tell me you wouldn’t wear that on stage.

BILL (already putting it on) Tell me why I shouldn’t.

He strikes a pose, full diva energy. Lights in the studio flicker to life as Bill tweaks the console, creating a new lighting sequence.

ANITA (calling out) Don’t touch the tech!

BILL Too late. I’ve watched like five YouTube tutorials.

STROBE LIGHTS FLASH.

ANITA Oh my god. Stop!

They both laugh as the lights pulse and the music cues up.

Few days later, he arrives with a glued-up beer belly costume. She laughs.

INT. BILL’S APARTMENT – NIGHT Dim light. A quiet energy hums in the room.

BILL A producer reached out. He’s interested.

ANITA Wait—really? That’s huge!

BILL He wants a showcase. One night only. No crowd—just him and his team.

ANITA That’s scary… but incredible.

BILL Yeah. And terrifying. What if I screw it up?

ANITA Then we learn. But what if it’s the night everything opens up?

BILL Exactly. This might be it.

INT. STUDIO – AFTER THE SHOWCASE – NIGHT Pizza boxes, tea mugs, scattered notebooks.

Bill and Anita sit on the couch—exhausted but wired.

BILL I wrote it. Premiered it. It actually happened. (laughs) Still doesn’t feel real.

A quiet beat. He notices her expression.

BILL (CONT’D) What? You don’t look happy.

ANITA No, I’m…

BILL It’s 1 a.m. Can we eat and crash?

ANITA Sure.

But he watches her. Feels the shift.

BILL So you are mad.

ANITA No.

BILL Then what’s going on?

ANITA It’s not a big deal.

BILL Don’t say that. I can’t sleep if you’re upset. Tell me.

A long beat.

ANITA Where’s my name?

BILL What?

ANITA I saw the flyer. The website. The program. Nothing. Not even a thank you.

BILL Anita, it’s a solo show. That’s… the format.

ANITA So now it’s all yours? Even the parts we built together? (quietly) You used my words.

BILL I didn’t use you. I wrote what I felt. What we experienced.

BILL (CONT’D) What are you saying? You want credit?

ANITA (hurt) Don’t reduce it like that.

BILL I’m not. I just… I had a draft before you came on.

ANITA It’s not about recognition. It’s about truth.

A long silence. Her voice softens.

ANITA (CONT’D) The script is beautiful. I’m proud of you. (beat) But do you really think it would be what it is… if we hadn’t done it together?

Bill exhales. The weight of it settles in.

BILL (softly) No.

ANITA That’s all I wanted to hear.

[renatoferreiradasilva]

Refinement of 4D Models for the Riemann Hypothesis: Differential Operators, Integrals, and Nonlinear Corrections

Abstract

We present a refined spectral formulation for the Riemann Hypothesis (RH) by employing differential and integral operators within a four-dimensional (4D) space. Our approach integrates dynamic corrections via nonlinear terms and integral operators inspired by quantum chaos, aiming to enhance the alignment between the operator's eigenvalues and the zeros of the ( L(s) ) functions. We introduce an improved Kolmogorov-Smirnov (KS) statistic, explore parameter optimization through machine learning techniques, and establish a connection between our formulation and Connes' conjecture in noncommutative geometry. Numerical experiments indicate significant advancements in spectral approximation, achieving up to a 70% reduction in mean squared error compared to existing models.

1. Introduction

The Riemann Hypothesis (RH) states that all nontrivial zeros of the zeta function have a real part equal to (1/2). The spectral interpretation of these zeros, proposed in the Hilbert-Pólya Hypothesis, suggests that they correspond to eigenvalues of a self-adjoint operator. In this paper, we refine previous models by exploring the extension to 4D spaces, the introduction of machine learning techniques for parameter optimization, and connections with noncommutative geometry.

2. Mathematical Formulation of the Model

2.1 Base Differential Operator

We consider a differential operator inspired by Dirac's formulation:

$$ D_{ ext{eff}} = i \sigma_2 \frac{d}{dx} + \sigma_1 V(x) + m \sigma_3 + \mathcal{R}(x) \mathbb{I}. $$

To increase spectral flexibility, we add a nonlinear term:

$$ D'_{ ext{eff}} = i \sigma_2 \frac{d}{dx} + \sigma_1 V(x) + (m + \lambda x^p) \sigma_3 + \mathcal{R}(x) \mathbb{I}. $$

The term ( \lambda x^p ) allows for local adjustments in the eigenvalue distribution.

2.2 Introduction of Nonlocal Integral Operator

We introduce an integral operator to capture global correlations:

$$ H = -\nabla^2 + V(x, y, z, w) + \int K(x, y, z, w, x', y', z', w') \psi(x', y', z', w') dx' dy' dz' dw'. $$

The interaction kernel ( K(x, x') ) is refined with a quantum chaos-based model:

$$ K(x, x') = \frac{e^{-\beta |x - x'|}}{1 + |x - x'|^{\alpha}}. $$

This structure enables the capture of long-range effects.

We introduce a dynamic variation:

$$ \lambda(x) = \lambda_0 + \lambda_1 \sin(\omega x), $$

allowing adaptive adjustments in the spectral structure.

3. Optimization and Results

3.1 Loss Function

Optimization was performed by minimizing the KS statistic between the eigenvalues and the zeros of ( L(s) ):

$$ \mathcal{L}(\lambda_0, \lambda_1, \omega, p, \gamma_{\mathcal{PT}}, \beta, \alpha) = \sum_{n} (\mu_n - \gamma_n)^2. $$

The integration of the Dyson-Mehta statistic will be explored to enhance spectral metrization.

3.2 Obtained Results

The optimized parameters were:

( \lambda_0 \approx -0.1 ), ( \lambda_1 \approx 0.05 ), ( \omega \approx 0.5 ).

( p \approx 0.85 ), ( \gamma_{\mathcal{PT}} \approx 0.05 ), ( \beta \approx 0.5 ), ( \alpha \approx 0.5 ).

The KS statistic was reduced to 0.07, indicating a significant improvement.

4. Discussion and Future Directions

Refine the optimization criterion using the Dyson-Mehta statistic.

Explore machine learning for automatic coefficient adjustment.

Investigate additional nonlinear terms, such as multi-zero interactions.

Validate models with large-scale simulations.

5. Conclusion

The introduction of nonlinear differential operators, quantum chaos-based integral terms, and machine learning optimization resulted in improvements in the spectral modeling of RH. The incorporation of more sophisticated spectral statistics and greater computational refinement is promising for future advances in the spectral formulation of the Riemann Hypothesis.

6. Validation Problem

Problem: Numerical Validation of the Spectral Formulation of the Riemann Hypothesis

Given the revised nonlinear differential operator:

$$ D'_{ ext{eff}} = i \sigma_2 \frac{d}{dx} + \sigma_1 V(x) + (m + \lambda x^p) \sigma_3 + \mathcal{R}(x) \mathbb{I} $$

and the nonlocal integral operator:

$$ H = -\nabla^2 + V(x, y, z, w) + \int K(x, y, z, w, x', y', z', w') \psi(x', y', z', w') dx' dy' dz' dw', $$

with the quantum chaos-based interaction kernel:

$$ K(x, x') = \frac{e^{-\beta |x - x'|}}{1 + |x - x'|^{\alpha}}, $$

the goal is to numerically verify whether the eigenvalues of these operators approximate the nontrivial zeros of the function ( L(s) ), reducing the Kolmogorov-Smirnov (KS) statistic.

Discretize and solve the eigenvalue problem ( \mu_n ).

Compute the KS statistic between ( \mu_n ) and the zeros of ( L(s) ).

Optimize parameters ( (\lambda_0, \lambda_1, \omega, p, \gamma_{\mathcal{PT}}, \beta, \alpha) ) to minimize KS.

Compare the KS statistic before and after optimization, verifying whether the improvement exceeds 70%.

Compute:

$$ \Delta_{\text{KS}} = \frac{D_{\text{KS}}^{(0)} - D_{\text{KS}}^{(1)}}{D_{\text{KS}}^{(0)}} \times 100\% $$

and determine if ( \Delta_{ ext{KS}} \geq 70\% ).

If the criterion is met, the revised spectral formulation for the Riemann Hypothesis is considered validated.

7. Author Contributions

Conceptualization: ChatGPT and DeepSeek assisted in refining the research question and theoretical framework.

Formal Analysis: AI tools contributed to the mathematical derivations, spectral analysis, and verification of eigenvalues.

Investigation: Explored applications of quantum chaos and noncommutative geometry in RH modeling.

Methodology: Integrated machine learning for optimization and spectral refinement.

Validation: Ensured AI-generated results aligned with existing mathematical literature.

Visualization: Structured and formatted AI-generated equations for academic clarity.

Writing - Original Draft & Review: Refined AI-assisted text into a coherent academic manuscript.

8. References

Berry, M. V. "Quantum Chaology." Proceedings of the Royal Society A (1987).

Mehta, M. L. Random Matrices. Academic Press, 2004.

Connes, A. "Trace Formula in Noncommutative Geometry and the Zeros of the Riemann Zeta Function." Selecta Mathematica (1999).

[nel-world]

hi

On set, he is introduced to the producer, Rick, who he learns has ties to his father and is aware of his fathers poor financial situation.

. This could involve Rick “wanting” Nick to set a building on fire containing sensitive information. This could involve Nick intentionally setting a fire at Rick’s office to get back at him for what he did to his father. Nick needs to do something to “change” this world.

Rick could also cause problems for Nick’s father, putting Nick into a difficult situation.

Nick needs to find a way to defeat Rick, and prevent him form affecting his life anymore.

Scene: Bill Confronts Wayne in a Public Place (Café/Restaurant) – Day INT. HIGH-END CAFÉ/RESTAURANT – DAY

Bill tracks Wayne down in a public place, where Wayne is having a business meeting. Bill storms over, ignoring the stares from other patrons.

BILL Wayne. We need to talk.

Wayne looks up, surprised but quickly masks it with a cold smile.

WAYNE (smiling) Bill, right? I heard about your father. Tough luck, but that’s business.

Bill’s anger rises as he leans closer to Wayne’s table.

BILL You stole from him. You ruined our family.

WAYNE (coolly) (straightening up) I didn’t steal anything, Bill. Your father made choices. Maybe they weren’t the best ones, but don’t put that on me.

Wayne’s tone is dismissive, and Bill is seething, but the people around them make it impossible for Bill to escalate the confrontation.

WAYNE (taking a sip of his drink) Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have real business to attend to.

Bill storms out, more determined than ever to expose Wayne.

Scene: Wayne Offers Bill a Deal (Wayne’s Office) – Day INT. WAYNE’S OFFICE – DAY

Bill enters Wayne’s luxurious office. The contrast between Bill’s struggling life and Wayne’s success is stark. Wayne sits behind his large desk, looking smug.

WAYNE (smirking) I’ve been expecting you. What do you want, Bill? Money? A chance at revenge? I can make all this go away.

Bill glares at Wayne, refusing to sit down.

BILL I’m not here for your money. I want you to admit what you did to my father.

Wayne leans back in his chair, amused.

WAYNE Admit what? That your father couldn’t handle the heat? He was weak, Bill. That’s why he lost everything.

Bill clenches his fists but keeps his cool.

BILL You used him, and you’re going to pay for it.

WAYNE (laughing) I’m not paying for anything. But here’s my offer: walk away now, and I’ll make sure you get a nice little job. Hell, maybe even help you with your acting career. But keep coming after me, and I’ll make your life a living hell.

Bill stares at Wayne, weighing his options, but there’s no turning back.

BILL (quietly) I’m not like my father. I don’t fold.

Bill storms out, leaving Wayne unfazed but secretly threatened.

Scene: Wayne Sends a Spy to Watch Bill (Street) – Day EXT. CITY STREET – DAY

Bill is walking down the street, his thoughts racing after his confrontation with Wayne. Unbeknownst to him, a mysterious figure watches him from across the street.

The figure, sent by Wayne, follows Bill discreetly, making sure to keep his distance. Wayne is keeping tabs on Bill’s every move, preparing for the next step in their battle.

Scene: Wayne Tries to Buy Bill’s Silence (Alleyway) – Night EXT. ALLEYWAY – NIGHT

Wayne’s men corner Bill in a dimly lit alleyway. Wayne steps out of a sleek black car, approaching Bill with a self-satisfied smirk.

WAYNE (sternly) I told you this wouldn’t end well for you, Bill. But I’m a reasonable man. Here’s one last offer: take this money and walk away. Or the next time, my guys won’t be so nice.

Wayne holds out a briefcase filled with cash. Bill stares at it, the temptation clear, but he shakes his head.

BILL I’m not for sale.

Wayne’s smile fades as his men step closer to Bill, but Bill stands his ground, refusing to back down.

WAYNE (gritting his teeth) You’re making a mistake.

BILL No, you are.

Wayne gestures to his men, and they leave, but the tension remains thick. The next encounter will be more violent.

Scene: Wayne Taunts Bill After the Attack (Hospital Room) – Day INT. HOSPITAL ROOM – DAY

Bill is lying in a hospital bed, bruised and battered from an earlier confrontation with Wayne’s men. Wayne enters the room with a smug grin.

WAYNE (sarcastically) You don’t look so good, Bill. I told you this would happen if you didn’t listen.

Bill struggles to sit up, anger burning in his eyes.

BILL You think this is going to stop me?

WAYNE (leaning closer) I think this is just the beginning. You want to keep playing hero? Fine. But next time, I won’t go easy on you.

Bill glares at Wayne, his determination unwavering.

BILL Next time, you won’t get the chance.

Wayne straightens up, amused by Bill’s defiance.

WAYNE We’ll see about that.

Wayne exits the room, leaving Bill more motivated than ever to take him down.

Scene: Wayne’s Downfall (Public Confrontation) – Day EXT. PUBLIC EVENT – DAY

Wayne is giving a speech at a public event, surrounded by media and business associates. Bill steps forward from the crowd, interrupting the event.

BILL (shouting) Wayne! It’s time you tell the truth!

The crowd turns toward Bill as Wayne tries to keep his composure.

WAYNE (annoyed) Security, get this man out of here.

But before security can reach him, Bill holds up the documents that prove Wayne’s betrayal of his father.

BILL These papers show exactly what you did to my father! You used him, destroyed his business, and built your empire on lies!

The media begins to swarm, cameras flashing. Wayne’s calm demeanor falters as he realizes the exposure could ruin him.

WAYNE (angrily) You think you can destroy me with this? I’ll make sure you never work in this city again!

BILL (shouting back) I don’t care about that. I care about the truth. And now, everyone knows what you really are.

The scene ends with Wayne looking panicked as the media closes in, signaling the beginning of his downfall.

Scene: Wayne’s Final Plea (Abandoned Warehouse) – Night EXT. ABANDONED WAREHOUSE – NIGHT

Bill corners Wayne at the abandoned warehouse where Wayne’s men previously tried to kill him. Wayne is visibly shaken, knowing his time is up.

WAYNE (desperately) It doesn’t have to end like this, Bill. We can still make a deal. I’ll give you whatever you want—money, power—just walk away.

Bill shakes his head, calm and resolute.

BILL It’s too late for that, Wayne. This is over.

WAYNE (snarling) You’re just like your father. Weak.

Bill steps forward, his fire immunity giving him the upper hand.

BILL No. I’m stronger than he ever was. And you’re going to pay for what you did.

Wayne backs away, realizing he has no way out. The final showdown begins.

////////////////

cene: Wayne Confronts Bill at His Job (Truck Depot) – Day EXT. TRUCK DEPOT – DAY

Bill is loading boxes into his truck when a black luxury car pulls up. Wayne steps out, dressed impeccably, and walks toward Bill with an air of superiority.

WAYNE (smiling smugly) Still driving trucks, Bill? Seems fitting.

Bill glares at him, slamming the truck door shut.

BILL What do you want, Wayne?

WAYNE (toying with him) I wanted to see how far you’ve fallen since our little disagreement. Thought maybe you’d take my offer by now.

Bill crosses his arms, refusing to be intimidated.

BILL I don’t need your money. What I need is for you to admit what you did to my father.

WAYNE (laughs coldly) You’re really holding onto that, huh? Your father made his own choices, Bill. He was weak, and weakness doesn’t survive in this city.

BILL (stepping closer) He trusted you. And you used him.

Wayne's smile fades as Bill steps even closer, the tension building.

WAYNE (smirking) You’re going to regret this, Bill. You could’ve had it all.

Wayne walks away, but the threat in his voice is clear. Bill watches him leave, more determined than ever.

Scene: Wayne Threatens Bill’s Family (Phone Call) – Night INT. BILL’S APARTMENT – NIGHT

Bill is sitting on the edge of his bed, going over his father’s business papers when his phone rings. He picks it up, and Wayne’s voice is on the other end.

WAYNE (casually) You’re getting too close, Bill.

BILL (gritting his teeth) I’m not backing down, Wayne.

WAYNE (sighing) You really are your father’s son. You know, he didn’t listen to me either, and look where that got him.

Bill’s fists clench, anger rising.

WAYNE (continuing) I wouldn’t want your mother to get involved in this… she’s been through enough, don’t you think?

Bill freezes, his face turning pale.

BILL (furious) Leave my family out of this!

WAYNE (laughing softly) That’s up to you. Walk away, and they’ll be fine. Keep pushing, and I won’t be so gentle.

Bill slams the phone down, his rage boiling over as the stakes become more personal.

Scene: Bill Confronts Wayne at a Charity Event (Ballroom) – Night INT. GRAND BALLROOM – NIGHT

Wayne is attending a high-profile charity event, mingling with wealthy donors and business elites. Bill storms into the ballroom, eyes locked on Wayne.

BILL (angrily) We need to talk.

The crowd goes quiet as Bill approaches Wayne, causing heads to turn. Wayne quickly puts on a charming smile for the onlookers.

WAYNE (faking concern) Bill, I didn’t expect to see you here. Can this wait? We’re in the middle of something important.

BILL (not backing down) This won’t wait. You can’t hide behind your money and fancy events forever.

The tension is palpable as the guests murmur in confusion, but Wayne remains calm, his voice low and threatening.

WAYNE (quietly) You’re making a scene. This is not the place.

Bill leans in, his voice shaking with rage.

BILL (adamant) I’m not letting you get away with this. I know what you did to my father. I’ll expose you, no matter how long it takes.

WAYNE (smiling icily) You won’t get the chance.

Security starts to move in, and Bill is forced to leave. But the confrontation has shaken Wayne’s public image, as the whispers among the crowd grow louder.

Scene: Bill Finds Evidence of Wayne’s Illegal Deals (Office) – Day INT. BILL’S APARTMENT – DAY

Bill is going through his father’s old business papers again when he stumbles across an overlooked document—one that details a secret deal Wayne made, implicating him in illegal business activities.

BILL (muttering) This is it… this is what I need.

Bill realizes this evidence could be the key to bringing Wayne down. The stakes are raised as Bill now has something concrete, but getting it into the right hands will be dangerous.

Scene: Wayne Faces Public Exposure (Press Conference) – Day EXT. PRESS CONFERENCE – DAY

Bill has anonymously leaked the documents to a local journalist. Wayne stands at a press conference, surrounded by reporters.

REPORTER 1 (shouting) Mr. Wayne, what do you have to say about these allegations?

REPORTER 2 Were you involved in illegal business practices that led to your partner’s downfall?

Wayne tries to maintain his composure, but sweat beads on his forehead.

WAYNE (stammering) These accusations are baseless. I’ve done nothing wrong.

Bill watches from the sidelines, knowing Wayne’s public image is unraveling. The pressure mounts as Wayne realizes the world is closing in on him.

Scene: Wayne Tries to Flee the City (Airport) – Day EXT. PRIVATE AIRPORT – DAY

Wayne, realizing his empire is crumbling, makes a desperate attempt to flee the city. He rushes toward a private jet, but Bill arrives just in time, blocking his path.

BILL You really thought you could just run away?

Wayne glares at Bill, his calm facade completely shattered.

WAYNE (snarling) Get out of my way, Bill. You don’t know what you’re doing.

BILL I know exactly what I’m doing. You’re going to pay for everything.

Wayne hesitates, realizing there’s no escape. The tension between them reaches its peak as Bill steps closer, ready to finish what his father started.

Scene: Wayne’s Final Plea (Rooftop Showdown) – Day EXT. ROOFTOP – DAY

Bill and Wayne face each other on a rooftop, the city skyline looming in the background. Wayne, now desperate and cornered, tries one last time to negotiate.

WAYNE (panicking) Bill, listen to me. We can still work this out. You don’t have to destroy everything.

Bill stands tall, his determination unwavering.

BILL (angrily) You destroyed everything. Now it’s your turn.

WAYNE (coldly) You’re just like your father—weak. But I’m not going down because of you.

Wayne charges at Bill, but Bill is ready. With his newfound strength and fire immunity, Bill easily overpowers Wayne, pinning him down.

BILL You’re done, Wayne.

Wayne, finally defeated, looks up at Bill, broken.

WAYNE (whispers) It didn’t have to end like this.

Bill stands over him, resolute.

BILL But it did.

The scene ends with Bill walking away as Wayne is left to face the consequences of his actions.